The Golden Hall of Meduseld

[Wolfchild]

*An unbearable scream suddenly forces Vearg to cover her ears, and she would her eyes the same if she thought she did not need to keep the beast, or beasts, in focus. The noise was agony in itself, for it brought memory of when she had seen them last, and the sound was lost now in a flourish of further cries from the camp around her, though these were the sounds of people, not the malice that swept the skies with terror. "Fell beasts of Angmar! To arms! To arms!" cried Vearg, though all who had felt the scream of the wraith kind would need no instruction to protect one another. It was instinct. Men ran from tents, forgetting sleep now and gathering what they could in hope to drive off what sought to capture and maim them from the air. But all carried the sense of panic that came with all encounters of the fell beasts of Angmar; a subdued terror that consumed all before it was meant to.

Another scream, this one getting closer. Vearg had three weapons with her that she readied, the main being a bow and arrow, which gave reason for the quiver that rarely left its attachment to her back, and then by her side was an axe used similarly by dwarven folk, round bladed and leather bound at the handle, and by the other side of her waist was a sheathed sword, showing now only the hilt, for in her hand an arrow was set upon the string, ready. Men around her did the same, now watching, waiting for some other sign of the creature to reveal itself, but above their was silence. Deafening silence.

Minutes passed, and all began to feel uneasy as they struggled to identify where the beasts had gone, or what sly pleasure was had in provoking this fear below. Some began to question whether the beasts were still approaching, though none would dare to set their weapons down.

Then, like a blast of ice, a deafening cry pierced the sparse treetops overhead, and through it clearly the shadow black wyvern that had made it overlooked a terrified, but upholding crowd. The reins, if they could be called thus, which twisted around the monster's head, told them all that this creature was riddden by one of the kind that kept such beasts; always and only those of Angmar who had no soul left to break. Suddenly it swooped low above them, claws like knives tearing through the structure that the camp once had, to which the creature met a flurry of arrows at the command of "Hado i philinn!" uttered from Vearg, and instantly the use of such words was remembered from long ago, and understood. For those who did not, riders from the North showed them what must be done, and bows were drawn. At the first piercings that met the beast in hundreds, the wyvern screamed again, though in more pain than malice, and beat it's  torn wings into the sky with bidding also from it's master. Some aimed for this black rider too, but it seemed that arrows could not penetrate his body, even the closely aimed shots towards exposed skin, or the slit in it's helmet giving slight to, but revealing nothing, of the eyes. The beast itself seemed immune to the effect so many arrows could produce, though it cried out enough in pain as the rider tried to move closer again for another slash to the camp, which was already in turmoil. Vearg fired another shot, as did others behind her, but she aimed near the head of the creature, where more damage could be inflicted, and the beast was likely to fall sooner, so that the real enemy could be dealt with.

She did thus, and and another scream agonised all who surrounded it, except the rider who still held on to the reins with a force despite the fact that the creature that held him was slowly dying. Quite unexpectedly, the beast ungraciously fell from the skies, though tried once again to attempt it, failing as it did so. Swords, axes and all other manner of blades were not unsheathed and drawn from their master's sides, but arrows still finished the beast off in readiness. The animal collapsed thus, letting out a lower, more chilling scream, before his head plumetted on an already ravaged tent, and the best was dead. The black rider lost no power in dismounting, but he was without the creature that was able to give him more presence than he already could manage on his own, if it was possible. Arrows were drawn and fired again, but still failed to act, and simply ricochet onto the ground.

This Angmar wraith drew out a long steel sword from his side, blackened in many ways as he was, pointing to Beren as he spoke "Thus your love is consumed, Beren Erchamion, as you will be before long! Though you have slain the beast of Angmar, I still have her soul in my posession...I will not rightly give that away whilst you strike down what is mine. Maybe my need to recapture the forces of your company have failed this time, but when we next meet let us see how many arrows you can spare with Morgoth's forces appearing to you in full! That will decide true bravery, I think. And then you will join your precious love..." A low, gravelled, bitter voice put fear in all so that none dared to speak, finding bravery consumed temporarily inside them. The wraith turned slowly to Vearg, watching the terrified comany with mixed pleasure and malice, and again, pointing his sword and speaking with equal hate; "And here is my noble traitor, come to stand with sword drawn, despite my hospitality...it is a shame to see you wasted so. The wolves of Minas Morgul miss your company, as do I" To this, there was a host of muttering, but this was silenced by a ferocious growl from behind them all. Two of Vearg's riders were holding back Tsyeni, who struggled to be free in the aim that he would devour the wraith and silence the bitter tongue. But the creature was too strong, and behind men that had once fired arrows, leapt the great beast, whose great jaws were poised to rip flesh from bone, until the clean sweep of the wraith blade carried him with unknown force to the ground, casting him near where the wyvern had fallen. The wolf did not move, but whimpered. Vearg drew an arrow as swift as the blade met it, but she knew it was hopeless to attack.

The wraith spoke again, with similar tone as previous "Foolish Vearg. For stealing my animals you too shall pay the price. I would make you repent for your mind tricks there also, but I fear that what I left you with last time is sufficient enough. Remember, it will not just destroy your life, but it will destory you, also. When the sting is as hot as the iron it came from, it means another escapee has been found, and their lives are taken. You can thank yourself for that, Vargaz..." The name is whispered, the identity feared. The black rider sheathes his sword again, satisfied that his chaos is complete. They stand in silence once more, but soon a galloping of approaching horses draws their focus, and many are stunned to see three more wraiths on horseback run past, one hoisting up the once skybound, and dashing off just as quickly without being stopped. All stand, stunned.*

[Beren One-Hand]

*Beren stood both baffled and stunned at the appearance of Angmar at the Downs.  Though Beren remained shocked at the news regarding Vearg.  For the taming of the wargs or wolves was extremely uncommon among the Edain, although some had done so in the Eldar days in Beleriand - this sparked a hint of suspicion in Beren's mind when he met Vearg, but he did not speak it aloud.  Beren remained an honourable man, one who gave each one the benefit of the doubt, seeking not to judge, unless one had given reason to do so.*

*Beren spoke up to the crowd, as the men were getting restless and eyeing Vearg with looks of hatred and anger: "Men, do not look at her so, with eyes of malice and with your teeth gritted like blood hungry orcs.  Vearg's past surprises even myself.  But she has proven her loyalty and valor.  And I would not have you turn on her.  To come this far and face Angmar thus, is proof enough for anyone as to their loyalty.  Redemption is possible for all who are willing to change.  Will you not heed my command, men?"*

*While the men were discussing Beren's proposition among themselves, something unexpected happened.  A tall figure, hooded and cloaked in blue garments, with a long white beard appeared out of the shadows in the Downs.  He looked like the wizardly type, but one could not guess at his identity until Dwalinstone shouted at him to reveal himself and to speak: "Speak now, or the arrows and swords of angry men recently besieged will attack!"*

*The blue hooded and cloaked figure raised his hand and spoke: "Greetings, great Company of the Last Days.  I am Stargeld the Blue.  The Istari appointed for the sole purpose of aiding you in your quest.  The Blue Wizards were thought to have been lost, failed and forgotten.  But this was not so.  Our purpose was that of gaining intel and information concerning the people of the East - the Easterlings, to learn their ways, and then when the time came, to aid those of the West in their plight to destroy Morgoth.  Although it was not recorded in your histories, I knew Gandalf, Sauroman and Radagast, and they knew I.   Gandalf  ventured into the East on a few occasions to bring us tidings about the lands to the West.  Now, nonetheless, it is time for me to offer my services and aid.  Will you accept?"*

*The men looked even more amazed and baffled than before.  With all that has happened, and now this?  One of the Blue Wizards revealed . . . finally . . . and now of all times?*

*Beren spoke again: "Truly this continues to be an eventful evening.  Welcome Stargeld to our Company - as you call it, it shall be - the Company of the Last Days.  Let us rest and get aquanted.  Please meet my loyal companions: Vearg, bravest of women and wolf master; Dwalinstone, dwarf of dwarves, a modern day Thorin, the heir to the Lonely Mountain; and Xenophax, my Lord, blessed mearas and friend."  It was at this time that they got aquanted, talking for hours, trying as best they could to wrap their minds around the events that had come to pass and that which lied in the future.*

*Dawn marked the leaving of the other men - those from Edoras who had quarreled and sought to drive Vearg out of the Company.  Beren, in one breath asked for their assistance, and then when they sought to even stoop so low to insult him, Beren, in another breath cursed them at their leaving.  And it was said in later times that those men who had been cursed had been caught and sacrificed by the Wights of the Downs.* 

*For now, the Company had just exited the Downs and continued their journey northward.*

[Wolfchild]

*The rest of the day was difficult, if not uncomfortable for Vearg, who herself was a depleted creature inside, consumed much by the wraith's cruel words, and more so by the exclusion the majority of the company now gave her, despite Beren's constant words to them. She could see doubt in their eyes, and knew that it was right to be there, for her past was not something any had truly known, other than herself for so long. She had stayed away from the discussions that evening also. The blue wizard seemed a fascinating character, but talks with him were often overpowered with the name 'Vargaz' which was either shouted or whispered in its mention. Dark days. She chose instead to focus her intensions on Tsyeni, who she feared was dead from the force of the strike, but it was his strong shoulder which had held out and taken nearly all of the impact. She did not think it was broken, but he would not be able to be ridden as long as he took to recover. However, if the men around her were in two minds of trust, watching her try to heal the very thing which the enemy used as mounts did not bode well for the situation, by any means. To add to this, they knew she would have trained them once, however long ago. Few approached her then, except for her own Northern kindred, and still even fewer words crossed.

She slept that night by the wolf's side, exposed to the elements, partly because her tent was one of the many destoyed, but also because she wished to gaze at the stars for a time. She checked the wound again, wondering what this additional scrap of information would do for her reputation if uncovered, and saw the blackness had spread slightly from the scar, as if bleeding into her very skin. As always, it was covered with haste. Later, it stung once more, though the thought of its meaning was camouflaged by cold rifts into slumber. The need in the morning to get up and move on was clear, and luckily few posessions were damaged, and could be carried as normal, though Tsyeni was spared the load of anything for this day, and assumedly others in the next few. Vearg walked on foot, followed by Tsyeni, limping occasionally. Communicating little, the journey north proceeded.*

[Beren One-Hand]

*While journeying northward, and out of the Downs, the Company halted at a small brook for rest.  And it was at this time that Stargeld felt it within himself to approach Vearg - not for judgement or rebuke, but to consol her and to exhort her.  "My lady, do not let the hatred of oblivious men put you down.  They know not how it was to walk in the ways you have experienced.  Their reaction is human, but ignorant.  The men who doubted you have been gone for some time now.  Before you, and with you are those I believe can be trusted.  Even though you barely know me, I hope too, that in time, you will learn to trust my wisdom and friendship."*

[Wolfchild]

*Stargeld's words do indeed console Vearg in her mind, though the thoughts are still poignant and unavoidable. She knows that there will be more on the way, which is a daunting prospect, and that those who left will undoubtedly spread the word that Beren travells with one who once served the Witch King. Her head may even have a price already. "Stargeld, I thank you for your words- you are one more now who trusts me for who I am, rather than who I was. Be it known that I was decieved in those dark days, for it was my work with what animals I raised, rather than who I raised them for, that controlled my purpose there. When I saw what lack of mercy there was to these noble beasts, I was not so consumed in mind as to save them from further turmoil. But I paid the debt with my life. Alas, I will linger no more on the subject now. Thanks you again, friend, your trust is a blessing, and I look foreward to travelling with one amongst such noble minds as these".

At this point, Tsyeni stumbles and becomes startled because of it, raising both front paws for a moment and uttering a strained yelp for the pain in his shoulder. As he does so, the reins being held by Vearg twist, and are brought suddenly across the arm upon which the hidden scar is positioned. Vearg winces, and lets go of the reins for a moment in reaction to the stab of pain, tended by the other hand, until quick thinking brings both back to grab the startled wolf, stroking his forehead and whispering into his ears. The wolf is calmed, but the moment is concerning.*

[Beren One-Hand]

*Beren observes what has happened to Tsyeni and approaches him.  Normally a warg would lash out on anyone approaching it, even one as obedient and well trained as Tsyeni.  But Beren had a calm in the eyes, and he saw the wolf's pain.  And with the pitty and anguish he felt for the poor beast, Beren sung an old ode that Thingol taught him all those long years ago.  Beren begins to sing; and as he does so he can see the spirits of Tyseni lift, and it seems that the wolf now bears a sparkle in his eyes like none that he had before.  Beren continued the ode.  Beren had learned much in the way of healing through his time with the elves and through Luthien and Thingol, as well as his mother-in-law Mellian the Maia.  Now the wound appeared to be closing and the bones and tisues that had been ripped and torn, were being repaired by the quiet melody being sung by Beren.  Tsyeni arose like one recently back from darkless, and Beren placed his hand on his head, and blessed the animal in Sindarin, telling him to rest, for he said: "Tomorrow you will feel as you once did."  Tsyeni immediately passed out, as if Mr. Sandman himself had paid him a visit.*

*Meanwhile, the Company looked upon this act with amazement and wonder.  And Vearg, above all was baffled at the kindness and power within Beren.  She began to weep softly to herself, as she embraced her beast and friend, Tsyeni.*

[Wolfchild]

*Vearg places her head upon Tsyeni's, in silent thankfulness for his wellbeing. His great chest thunders with the heavy breathing of deep sleep, and his darkened black and brown fur rests upon the earthy ground below. Content that he is safe resting, Vearg gathers wood and builds a fire, as do others in the company to give light in the approaching darkness, as well as warmth and a place to cook what food is needed. For the first time in a while, Vearg is truly happy. She fingers the amulets and talismans worn around her neck with distant contented memory, and even the tooth of the beast fought in the fires of Minas Morgul after the dark days does not provoke the bitterness like previous past memory. Instead there is the knowledge within that she is safe and amongst those who trust and recognise her for who she really is. Fear, as always, remains deep within the confines of her mind, but is temporarily forgotten as the knarled branches ignite and the orange flames are revealed. She eventually drifts into slumber like Tsyeni, and doses under the moonlight.*

[Beren One-Hand]

*At dawn all were pleased with the recovery of Tsyeni, and started back on their journey.  It was agreed upon by all that the Company should continue their journey north, toward the Anduin, to possibly seek refuge at Caras Galadon - now the abandoned city of Galadriel, Lady of Light.  Since she passed over the seas to Valinor, no one speaks of Lorien anymore.  Some say that Thranduil's elves had occuppied it; others say that it had simply been abandoned.  And even some will say that some evil presence had taken residence there, for one could not mistaken its proximity to Dol Guldur - which many believe has been rebuilt by Angmar.*

[Wolfchild]

*Knowing how near Don Guldur was did not promote good memory, but Lorien was a place Vearg had always desired to visit, despite the fact that many of the elves who called it their home once had not been seen since their departure to Valinor. There was a strong desire within her, as well as the rest of the company, she thought, that Angmar had not taken a place so pure and natural as Lothlorien was, but the possibility was all to evident. Keeping hopes up, the company proceeded towards the ancient forests, where the huge trees spanned into the clouds almost, and on the ground the mighty roots wove themselves deep into the mossy soil. As the tree cover cut off a great deal of sunlight, the company walked carefully and kept a watch around one another for any signs of movement that was not their own.*

[Beren One-Hand]

*The Company knew not what they would find upon entering the forest.  But, as their journey pressed northward, stopping for rest in the abandoned elven city made sense.  And so the Company set up camp on the edges of Lorien.*

*All of a sudden in the middle of the night, Dwalinestone was heard crying out: "An intruder has entered our camp.  An intruder!"  And it was at that moment that the Company could see in the shadows an elvish looking sillouette.  And just as the apparent intruder had revealed himself, Dwalinestone rushed at him with all the speed and strength he could muster, cocking back his axe, and in a swift slicing motion.  However, before he made contact, Dwalinstone was turned to stone.  All were taken aback at this point.  Even still, Beren approached the figure and spoke, warning the intruder in Sindarin: "Reveal yourself, whether friend or foe, we shall find out your identity either way!"  Then out of the shadow came the "intruder," who pulled back his hood, to the surprise of all.  Although, Beren was still surprised nonetheless, as were the others, Beren knew the supposed "intruder" and was extatic to see him.  It was none other than Maglor, his friend of old, and gatherer of information from back at the Pony.  "I am glad to see you, my old friend.  I saw in Andunie's palantiri, your flight from the Pony, but I knew not whether the seeing stone could be trusted.  Well this time, I know that what I saw was really the case.  What tidings do you bring in this dark hour?  Should we venture further into Lorien?  Or steer closer to the Anduin?  We are heading to the halls of Thranduil in Mirkwood, to learn of Morgoth and Angmar."  Maglor replied: "Do not fear entering the sacred city.  To my knowledge none remain here.  But do not underestimate the power of the elves.  For even in the absence of the Lady of Light, an emanence still lies within Lorien, and even such a power that might deter Angmar or Morgoth from entering.  But even still we should be careful and cautious."*

*After the reunion of the noble friends, Maglor and Beren, Beren introduced all of the Company with Maglor.  Maglor was pleased to meet all within the Compnay, especially the Wolf Rider, he called her - that is, the lady Vearg.  Maglor was one who honoured and reverred those who had fallen from grace, but had risen from the grave, proverbally speaking, like himself.  For none knew what ever became of Maglor in the other tales.  But within this tale his legacy is made clear.  Furthermore, Stargeld spent several hours discussing many things with Maglor, thus getting well aquanted.  Turning the dwalf into stone, wouldn't go over too well, once the spell wore off.  The history between dwarves and elves says it all.*

[Wolfchild]

*Eating and drinking well over the course of the eveining, Vearg mulled over an ancient map which she had brought with her, chartering their journey from Edoras, and updated with their current encampment. Many a song was sung that night, each from the different races and corners of Middle-Earth, which could be noticed in the way that they were sung, and what tales the rhythms told. It was both sweet and beautiful to hear these stories captured in verse, for they were noble characters described within them, and lands once so untouched by any that the idyll was like being immersed in some magnificent dream. Vearg herself began one of the wholesome sings of the North, to which the surprise was that each of the ten from the same location joined in, weaving into it themselves, producing what became almost a harmonic chant of their homelands, deep but merry with its elegant words. The jovial nature of it was enhanced when the once sleeping Tsyeni awoke, sat upright, and began to howl entirely of his own accord. Vearg then joined in with Tsyeni's song, and somewhat astondingly sounded very similar to him, as if a second wolf had answered the first's call in the dead of night.

But many minutes into this intriguing lull of howling and wolfish song, all stopped silent for the faint sound just hearable far into the distance. Many miles away, an entirely differnt body of howling was growing amongst the darkness. Other wolves were out there, and they were joining in.

Instantly, Vearg's ears pricked at the sound, for the music of nature was much loved within her soul. She smiled then, for she knew that even if these creatures who could only be heard on the wind were of the enemy's bidding, they were not yet lost within the shards of Angmar's devilry. Somehow, she knew that she would be meeting these great creatures again, though not in the same context as her last.*

[Beren One-Hand]

*The sound of the wolves in the distance made even the brave Beren shriek.  Both Stargeld and Maglor believed the woods to be safe, but the howling of the wolves, and the warning of Vearg made them doubt this previous assumption.*

*Meanwhile, the spell put on Dwalinstone had worn off.  And he was fuming with anger, and if it hadn't been for the restraining of Beren and Vearg, Dwalinstone would have fought Maglor to the death.  It seemed that it would take awhile for these two - that is Dwalinstone and Maglor, to reconcille.*

*Beren spoke up to the Company: "Maglor and Dwalinstone, two of my dearest friend's.  Please do not quarrel.  Try to co-exist, for we need not loose the prowess or wisdom of either of you.  The company is blessed to have Maglor among its ranks.  For it seems the inevitability of the evil wolves will require the skills and talents of us all.  Nonetheless, let us press onward to the elven city, and meet whom we will along the way."  Maglor, who none knew had stepped into the woods for some reason had returned, and with a large case.  "My noble friend's, here is a gift from the elves of old, weapons of archery - bows and arrows.  But know this, the quivvers will never run out of arrows -  a magic of the elves of old.  The bows and these 'never ending' arrows are made to be deadly accurate when aimed at a foe deemed evil and united with the dark powers."*

*Tsyeni looked as if struck by fear when eyeing the arrows.  For it seemed that by some past experience, he had felt the piercing of such arrows, and for that he cowered on the edge of the camp.  And it was at this time that Xenophax, mearas and noble steed of Beren, approached Tsyeni and calmed his spirit.  And it seemed to all that the two beasts became comrades ever after this event.*

[Wolfchild]

*When Tsyeni had gazed upon the elven arrows concealed within their respective quivers, he remembered suddenly when he had last encountered such items of weaponary, long ago. Vearg, sitting no more than a foot away, saw this glint in his eyes, and remembered the day too. On one shameful occasion, the wolf riders of Minas Morgul had attempted to storm Helm's Deep, when the majority of it's peoples were still occupied in Edoras. Those who defended it were new to battle, and their numbers were so meagre that it seemed like the old fortress would be taken before long. Vearg knew this, because she rode at the head of the wolf riders, with Tsyeni amongst the last of his own kind; a wolf that was powerful, but so much that it began to think for itself. This aside, the problems began when an unexpected band of elves came to hold on to the last thread of hope that the Keep had left. They were still fighting on the ground below, when from the walls more arrows than any had ever seen were released with careful aim towards the invaders that they were. Within hours, the effect of those arrows had been satisfactory. Bruised and beaten, it was astounding Vearg herself was still alive, but like Tsyeni, they were both only just so. She had been hit twice by the same elf, who thinking her dead began to shoot the wolf also. When she came to later, and saw the level of death around her, of the slain wolves she wept, for she had known them from cub. Tsyeni had only almost died for the arrow that had been fired at his throat, and she had to heal him without being shot again from above, for he was unable to move.

Being then of a much blacker heart, she had sought what any of Angmar's kind would too have done; she sought revenge. After the time it took for Tsyeni to manage walking again, she had used her ability to howl to devious consiquence. She called not only the remainder of those Morgul wolves, but the wild creatures also. Like a pack they rode to a forest now forgotten by sadenned memory, for they slew every elf within there in nothing other than cold blood and malice. The word had then spread around of the Vargaz, as she was once known, who rode only with wolf kind, and did the cruel bidding of her master like a stab in the dark, swiftly, and then were once again gone into the night. To this end they were hunted by those who, like her, wanted vengeance. And so it was that men too, sought the need to rid Middle-Earth of this threat. Hunters...damn their souls.

Tsyeni was the only one left, and the only other thing living that knew of that experience, except the survivors, who were in this age few now. Each of their attitudes had changed now, for the better, but both still had a keen dislike of elven weapons. Oddly to the rest of the group, Vearg chose not to take one of the quivers, but stuck to her own. Even now she fought alongside those previous enemies, she would not take the feared arrows. But what would Beren say, when she told him of the one thing she could not kill, even for the just cause?

She realised she must tell him, for the sounds of such animals in the distance struck deep within her soul. Intervining in a conversation Beren was having with Maglor, Vearg asked for a moment of his time, to which he looked understandably concerned, as she was not one to talk usually unless she was first spoken to. She spoke with an edge of nervousness, "Beren, for the cause of our company we show both strength and courage in our ways. We are honourable people, fighting for the justice of our kind, taking evil from a burdened landscape. I ride with you now, for which I am proud, but there is something of my past within my soul that will not die, or change so easily. Before you knew me fully, I was simply a woman  who rode a wolf from the Northern wastelands to Edoras. As our journey has progressed, you have learned more from my history that I was notably unkeen to share, and now the truth is revealed you have greeted me still with your trust and honour. For this I cannot thank you enough. But still, you know that I was once a wolf rider, which seems a simple definition of what I am now, but then it meant something malicious and hate-driven, as I was, given the despised name of Vargaz, the black of night. I am a rare exception to others who keep the same beast, but it is this creature, the wolf, which is the very essence of who I am. I tell you this now, in warning Beren, that I cannot slay wolf-kind, of any manner. Maybe it is my love for the animal that drives me so, or some trick the Witch King has left me with, but I find myself unable to kill the wolf, even if my captors themselves drove them to my door. I would add to this that I see it my duty to protect the creature with the same methods as I do for this company. If there is a time that we encounter the creatures of Angmar or elsewhere of evil riding such creatures, I will slay them, but the wolves themselves will know me, and they must be spared in order for  them to take their souls back. I will give them their minds, like I did the others."*

[Beren One-Hand]

*Beren stood silent, while contemplating what Vearg had said.  Many things raced through his mind.  Without Vearg's aid, and if the wolves were too numerous, they might be overtaken.  But Beren had a strong sense within himself that their death would not come in such an ordinary way.  But stil, if they pressed onward and were forced to face the wolves, would Vearg turn on the Company itself?  Beren did not want to believe it.  And just as these very thoughts passed through Beren's mind, he slipped into a trance, in which Manwe spoke to him: "Beren, you must not be troubled.  For what lies deep within the forest are not wolves.  The wargs have not become so bold to venture into such lands as of yet.  That is the good news.  Nonetheless, what lies within the woods is a more dangerous foe than that of wolves.  What lies within the forest are known as the Band of Seven Trolls.  They were bred by Morgoth himself during his uprising from darkness.  Although they are of troll-orc kind, they can mimic various sounds and can take different shapes.  Beware, because these creatures would rival the great Balrogs and Spiders of old.  Melkor has once again poured all of his malice and evil into them.  But encourage the Company, oh great One-Handed.  Your deed  many eons ago - the taking of the silmaril from his iron crown, has ever been a thorn in his side.  Press on, and face this foe.  The Company has the support and power of Valinor, and we would not see you fail.  For Stargeld rightly called you - The Company of the Last Days.  Be at peace oh great Edain Lord!  Doubt not the dear lady Vearg, for when the time comes, she will prove herself as one who has been called from Aman itself."

*Beren then fell to his knees, feeling weightless and at awe at what just happened.  Manwe himself appearing to him, to give him wisdom and guidance?  What a wonder!  The Company looked startled at the actions and antics of Beren.  But then he spoke: "Thought and doubts face us all.  But know this, that Vearg is our loyal friend, and loyalties must not be compromised.  We will do what we shall to rise above our differences.  Manwe himself has counselled me that what lies deep in the forest are not wargs; they are shape-shifting trolls, which can mimic various sounds and noises.  We have been instructed by the Valor to pressed onward, and face this enemy.  For the Valor himself has revealed to me that we will not meet our doom or death by their hands.  Onward my Company, let us hold to eachother!"*

[Wolfchild]

*Trolls? Vearg pondered the thought, whilst the company moved further onwards in their journey. She had seen them few times before, but with each occasion met, the giant creatures wreaked an intense amount of damage, merceless with unsurpassable rage. One swipe could take a score of men and knock them aside like wheat in a field. Angry creatures were they, and ones beyond all forms of reasoning. But she was sure within her that the might of the company alone would give the trolls need for reckoning before their destruction. And all would make certain that any who threatened this band of the brave, would meet swift and justified end. She for one, would make sure of it.

It was now whilst travelling, she lagged slowly behind with Tsyeni, until there were none behind her, and drifted at the end of the company still on horseback. She did thus because her scarred arm was giving particular grief, and it had not been checked for at least a day, so the urgency was nigh. Pulling back the leather vambrace, the sight that greeted her was not pleasant. The wound was as black as the charred remains of fire, but the mark itself was mixed with glistening red. Filled with more anger than physical pain as yet, Vearg returned the leather, and rejoined the main section of the group again.*