The Golden Hall of Meduseld

[Beren One-Hand]

*The Company decided to make camp once again, while pondering the wisdom from Manwe via Beren.  The wolf Tsyeni began to cry out, howling repeatedly.  It is well known among the people of Middle Earth, that the wargs bear an unrivaled ability to be perceptive and aware of their surroundings.  Undoubtedly, brave Tsyeni sensed the presence of the trolls.  Unfortunately, the racket he was making would only make the inevitabilty of the trolls finding their whereabouts known.  Stargeld approached Vearg: "Be sure, noble lady, to calm your friend.  For we need not hasten our own ambush."  And just then Stargeld knelt down on the ground, as if in an act of prayer, with his staff raised to the heavens, and ask the Valor to  cause a cloud of confusion among the trolls, that they might remain distracted until the Company could effectively ambush them themselves.  For he said: "Oh gracious Manwe, prepare our way, and may we not fall out of your path, and meet our doom by such vile and hopeless creatures."*

[Wolfchild]

*Vearg watched Stargeld with great interest in this prayer to the sacred Manwe, for she understood the potency of such acts, and had once doubted them long ago, until recently. Tsyeni howled still for fear, but Vearg took him by the reins, and stroking his forehead and neck whispered in his ear the calming words of the wolfish tongue, "Forhaine nauth beorhn woul, thau eou vaula weissaun sigaure bufane veyll ansacaur" and as if another act had been performed by Stargeld himself, the wolf was silent, and attentive to Vearg once more. The creature lay down following this, but did not fall asleep with such ease as previous days, and so Vearg continued to sing songs to him in the language of the wolves, which some men had not known existed until then. Though they did not know what the words themselves meant, they could tell in their own hearts that the stories were both beautiful and sad in their message.*

"Baunne sei ferhou hebaune fleonei onwe,
Hyie wevein binne feroloca aufe nies eyace orleie,
Uppaun binne eadui, cielen eyace utainile ,
Heth iss bulaun sei cyemra wau sinlei itaun."

[Beren One-Hand]

*Beren and the Company stood at awe when hearing the sacred wolf tongue.  And they proceeded to the very edges of Caras Galadon.  And when the Company stopped at a small brook for the refreshment of the cool water that flowed there, a rustling or rattling sound was heard in the trees.  And it seemed that the trees themselves were moving or even talking among themselves.  Was this the return of the Ents?  Or was this the revealing of those maliceful shape-shifting trolls?  Only time would reveal this to the Company.  While this comotion was upon them, the mere sight of Caras Galadon brought Vearg and the Company awe and inspiration.  But Vearg herself saw a glimpse of her past, and of the suffering she once inflicted upon the Lune elves . . . *

[Wolfchild]

*It hit her like an arrow through the darkness, a sudden rush of what she had been, and without any warning or forethought she found herself standing aback by the sight before her. Across the river, a sparsity of trees revealed what would have been the complete opposite in compariston to Caras Galadon, for many were burnt in places, the treetops torn and only now the black groundcover of ash remaining. In the stumps were the slash of claws pulled across in a frenzy of anger, deeply gashed into the wood so much that it was clear the tree itself was becoming infected from it, but the fires had finished it off nevertheless. Cast upon the barren ground were only the rotting fragments of corpses, and where these had perished only skeletons remained- the odd skull lying upon its own somewhere, smashed and beaten. Blood stained everything, and arrows were embedded in both the trees and the bones themselves, though none more than the boards of wood crudely hammered together to make a sign, which read 'Vargaz noroaun, waelcyrie. Animaun oftheon ealdour'. The name was plain enough. Around them, scaps of cloth and tattered clothing told the company these were once elves, and the fact that they still lay there said that these must have not yet gone to the Undying Lands after those of Caras Galadon had done.

All stood aghast for a moment at the level of massacre that met their eyes. Vearg herself was in a state of shock, and upon her wrist the scar was almost pulsating with pain that made her eyes water. Speaking slowly, she uttered "There lies Lune. What malicious destruction you see is by my own hands. Vargaz...damned Vargaz, will that name never leave me!" Turning to Beren with anger in her eyes, she prepared to tell him everything.*

[Beren One-Hand]

*Beren stood astounded, angry and repulsed by the sight of what was a massacre.  Who would have done this?  Who could have done this?  And Why?  Questions such as these raced through the minds of the rest of the Company.  Even Dwalinstone, although not fond of elves, was baffled, and stated: "Even an elf deserves an honourable death.  This was a slaughter.  For if the culprit of this murderous disaster be found, my axe would take on a life of its own."  Maglor in sudden shock at the sight of his kinsmen in fallen disgrace, fell to the ground on all fours like a beast, weeping and crying.  In elvish he said: "Dispite their disgrace, oh great Valor, grant these fallen a place in your halls.  For none deserve to die in this fashion."  The others demonstrated similar expressions of anger and respect.  But what was peculiar was the reaction of Vearg, who was being stared at by the majority of the Company by now, and who stood montionless, unable to react.*

[Wolfchild]

*She should have remembered. Should have, but didn't want to. She felt the eyes of each member of the company burn into her as she could only stare across the river that separated the perfect Caras Galadon from that vision of her past, encompassing everything she loathed about herself. As utterly horrific as it was, she could only gaze upon the sign, written in blood in the language that just moments ago was relished by the company with wonder. In the Wolfish tongue, it read only 'Vargaz of the North, taker of life'. Her lower lip trembled, as she spoke in almost a whisper over a sea of appalled faces; "I rode once with a host of wolf riders, under my instruction, working for the cause of Morgul in a time when deception was rife amongst Middle Earth. We made one day in winter to take the fortress of Helm's Deep, as we knew then that most of its people were occupied with matters in Edoras, and so we could claim it with ease and haste for our master. The day was cold...my people were nervous. But we ran, charged for our soon victory, climbing up the stone roads and rampways which lead to the Keep. Men put up a fight that day, and we were merceless villains with no concern for any other than ourselves. I turned when I was upon the wall, and saw below on the battlefield that horsemen were trying to separate our ranks. Quick to turn, I scrabled down and regrouped with them, ready to charge amongst the wolf riders for the last time before it was ours. Only this was literally the last time. I gave the command. We churned the muddly ground with our charge, and as we did so I looked up at the wall from whence I had come, to see that it was empty, as it had been left. I took my eyes off for a second- just one, fatal second, and when I looked up again their was a run of pale elven faces, each one bearing a bow with arrows ready to fire, aimed directly at us. Crying to turn, my command was lost in a wave of screams, as riders and mounts were knocked to the ground in torrents. All around me in that split second, I had lost my entire group, and every single wolf that I had raised from cub was lost amongst the dead or dying. The screams...the screams will never leave me. But once we were lost, they did not cease their fire. With all of us upon the brink, they shot us still.
 
    I know our intentions were wrong, but they did not need to shoot the beasts so many times as was done. Once satisfied that we were destroyed, I had to make sure they did not find me, for I still lived and had new purpose. In the daylight I made safe feigning death, unmoving even when they tried to burn me with the rest of the corpses. I had to hold myself together when they ran blades through the bodies of the still living, though by some wave of fortune they lay no more upon Tsyeni then, perhaps because he did not move or make sound like the rest had. At nightfall, I tied to pull the arrows out of my skin, the agonising procedure taking hours as I wrythed within my own blood. Tsyeni was more difficult, for a wolf does not understand when you do not mean to hurt it. Eventually, we survived. We ran when we could, though still not well, and took to the woods in hiding by dusk. I was an angrier soul then, much angrier. I sought revenge like a hawk, and by some fool's errand I found out which elves had been those final saviours. Lune. Named for their love of moonlight. We shared some connection there, but I hated them like nothing on this Middle Earth. Revenge was my only intention.

    In the woods, I called for every wolf of the wilds to seek vengeance on those who had taken their kind. We gathered together, and in their company I learned the ways of the wolf fully; their language, their howls, their everything. We came to Lune by nightfall, at a time when the moon was full, and...and reaked what malicious carnage no words could ever summarise. I caused the destruction an entire fraction within mere hours. Frenzied, ansolutely engulfed in my own anger, I took down any...any that crossed my path, or raised a weapon to my own. From then, whispered amongst only the most brave of warriors, and evil of Morgul-kind, was the name I was given. Vargaz, she of the Wolf. When I fought from then on it was within a pack, and I was as good as an animal, but as bloodthirsty and hate-driven as the Witch King himself." Vearg brings her hand over her mouth in sudden horror, lets out a deep, wrenching sigh, and falls to her knees, head wrapped by her hands.

    Behind her, one equally appalled member of the company raises his axe in disgust, whilst others still grieve beside him. Quietly he draws it above Vearg's crouching head, but as he raises it aloft to bring down the force of the blow, Vearg turns with unknown speed, meeting steel with steel of her own sword in a sudden chink of metal. The man is once again stunned, whe  Vearg's face turns to meet him also, and tear strewn, her eyes are full of anger and malice. "Why try to repent for my life, when all it does is return to strike me when my guard is down? Even when taking journey, I am not at peace..." Still livid with rage, Veag mounts Tsyeni, mutters "I will return in an hour" To those within earshot, and rides with all speed away from the group, and out of the treecover.*
 

[Beren One-Hand]

*Dwalinstone was surprised at the speed and coordination of the Wolf Rider.  For none would have been spared of his axe under similar circumstances.  Dwalinstone was shocked to feel a gentle hand on his shoulder.  It was Maglor.  No words were needed.  For it was known that a mutual truce was taking form between elf and dwarf.  And that maybe through this tragedy, these two individuals would become closer, and even comrades.*

*Beren tried to talk sense into the Company, and although he had the support of Xenophax and Stargeld, Maglor and Dwalinstone wanted no more to do with Vearg.  "Now that she has left us, let us be rid of her for good," said Maglor.  But Beren spoke up: "The acts she did were detestable, yes.  But who wouldn't have done the same, had they been under the influence of the dark forces.  This was the utmost of her repentance.  Do not be too quick to lay your judgement on her.  Her return is my hope.  For with her aid and friendship we have a former Morgoth insider who can help our cause greatly."*

*Dwalinestone and Maglor looked ready for flight, but decided to ponder the words of Beren.  Deep inside, Maglor wanted more of a personal apology for the assault on his people.*

[Wolfchild]

* Vearg rides away from the trees, leaving the entire group behind her as she spurred Tsyeni with haste from all of it, trying hopelessly to not burst into tears as she did so. Nevertheless, when she stopped upon a hillock to rest, it was impossible to stay her emotions longer. She realised then, that her past would follow her to the very end, wherever she went, whether she tried to avoid it or not. The thought was both daunting and disturbing. She had maybe a few more chances to prove her trustworthiness to Beren now, and the scar still remained unspoken between them- the fear that it could tear her bonds for good now made her extreemly nervous. Forced to take off the vambrace because of the pain, she could see clearly now that black marks were sprouting like tendrils from the centre of the wound, and almost beginning to grow in a way that they would wrap around it like ivy. What it would do, she did not know.

What concerned her then was the fact that it had been anger first and last when looking at Lune, and only sadness when she realised what she had done. Her overriding feeling was resentment, mainly for the elves she had slaughtered, and little for herself. Vearg had thought that the sight of Lune, her most devistating and despicable of acts as Vargaz, would have at least struck a ord of shame within her, but all she could think of was what had provoked it; wolves, her wolves brought down, yelping like when they were cubs, screaming, screaming for her help. It was her love of wolves, not Morgoth or her master, that had sealed her place in that time of blackness.

Tsyeni nudged her arm with his muzzle for comfort, and she stroked him lovingly as he lay down beside her. Getting to her feet, she felt a sudden urge, and before she realised what she was doing, she howled out over the green fields, looking to the forest also as she did so. It was partly to level her anger, and partly to visit some old friends. Soon enough, wolves answered in reply, and appeared hastily from forest and out over the grasslands. Many came, both wild wargs and wolf alike, and it was as if friends were reuniting after long absence. For an hour she talked with them, shared the tale as it stood,  and asked of them their council for what her life had become. Their words consoled her, for the best part; "As long as you yourself know you are true, you cannot account for the opinions of others. The world, it seems, is against you, but you have the blessing of wolf-kind within your soul forever, as you always have done. Be strong in body and in mind, and you will achieve recognition from man and wolf alike". She thanked them for that. Realising the time, she bid them farewell and good luck, and mounted Tsyeni to return to the company. She was not sure what their reaction would be, on any level.

At the camp, the men had heard her howls, which did not promote the mood considering where they were.  Miserably, they had begun to move on, though all had spent the hour mourning, and blessing the elves who had fallen at Vargaz' hand. Slowly, as men mounted horses, Vearg appeared through the trees, eyes blackened and bloodshot, riding Tsyeni at the pace of slow walking. There were no words between her or any, only sullen glaces back to her, as she trailed carelessly at the back of the company. Maglor himself would not even offer her a passing glance, with good reason. A chink was still visible in the axe of Dwalinstone where her sword has struck with such enraged force, and she knew it was unlikely they would share words again. One last look crossed from Vearg to the sign of Vargaz, and a single tear fell from her eye, before they walked away, silent amongst the trees.*

[Beren One-Hand]

*The Company now entered what was left of Caras Galadon, and made their encampment at the pool of Galadriel.  It was thought that the pool had no power of its own, that it was Galadriel who used it for forsight.  However, as the Company began to settle down and as some had already started sleeping, the idea that the pool had no power of its own was shattered, when it started to make a bubbling or boiling sound.  Beren then walked slowly up to the pool to see the comotion within it.  The pool calmed as he approached it, and in seconds he saw many images within it.  Some of these images disturbed him; while others brought him hope.  And then something that Celeborn said to him in Valinor came to mind: "Beren, the pool might speak of the past, or of the present, or of the future.  The pool might even reflect that which could be changed, showing that free will plays a role in the destiny of all that live."  Beren then moved into a trance, and saw Gandalf the White in Aman.  The great Istari layed his hands on Beren's shoulders and exhorted him: "Remember my words to Frodo, all those long years ago in Moria - 'Even the wisest cannot see all ends.'  So remember, the Valor might have yet to reveal their true purpose for Vearg.  For their ways are mysterious."*

*While Beren was enthralled with his experience at the pool, little did he know that Vearg had been watching all along . . .*

[Wolfchild]

Her past spent in shadow had taught Vearg to observe body language and the secrets of facial expressions usually overlooked by others. When she too had heard the bubbling of the water, she realised once she got to the clearing that Beren was already there, and already being enchanted by what mysteries the pool of Galadriel embodied. At first, a desire within her made her almost run out to pull him back, for it was as if his eyes sparked with flame at the message the pool was giving to him, but then a goldren light from the source of wonder made her stand stock still, in awe herself at what it could do. He was lulled by soft, unknown words, and remained still with eyes closed for many minutes- a cencerning thing to witness, but Vearg knew that it could bring no physical harm. Then, she heard her own name, whispered from it and on the wind, but it called her 'Vearg', not the name she despised so much now. That gave her confidence, but nonetheless it was telling him something about her. Another message to rally his trust, maybe? It was possible. He shook his head- the vision was ended. Vearg moved quickly away, back to where her own camp was set up, distant from the majority of others. There she did not sleep, but wondered what was left for herself on this journey. Setting out all those many days ago, her intention had been for peace and justice, but life seemed to flash before her eyes on every new turn. The Valor indeed were seeming now more malicious than what she had initially assumed.*

[Beren One-Hand]

*It had already been three days now, since the Company had entered Lorien, and they had spent a full day within Caras Galadon.  Word of the trolls had nearly been forgotten.  However, just when the Company had set out of the city, the Seven Trolls made their attack.  Two trolls made right for Vearg and Tsyeni, and would have cleaved the heads off of both Rider and wolf, had it not been for the powers of Stargeld, who annihilated the two trolls with the Flame of Arnor, turning them to dust.  Immediately, the other five attacked - it seemed almost simultaneously.  Stargeld, Vearg and Tyseni fought valiantly, three of the five, using both sword, teeth and claws, and sword and staff, as well as prowess from them all.  And Beren, with his one hand, fought the other two.  It seemed as though the Valor themselves had possessed him, for he fought with such skill, that one would have thought he had eight arms.  His speed and agility were uncomparable.  With his strength he threw one troll into a tree trunk, breaking the tree and breaking the troll, sending him to shadow.  And with his wits, he out smarted the other troll, luring him into the sun light, out of the dark and shaded forest, into a clearing, where the troll was instantly turned to stone by the light.*

*And it was as if all of this - the malay at hand, was happening all at once.  However, just as Beren out witted his second troll, Vearg and Stargeld seemed to be having trouble with the other three trolls.  Well they had done well enough.  For Vearg mortally wounded one troll, but that still meant that there were two more left to fight.  Stargeld was caught off guard and knocked unconscious.  Tyseni had been thrown into the woods by another.  And Vearg was clinging to her life, because the two trolls were about to pull her limb from limb, had it not been for Dwalinstone . . .*

*Dwalinstone had not ventured close to the Company upon exiting Caras Galadon.  For he was drawn back to his comrade Maglor, who wanted to mourn for the Lune elves one last time.  Dwalinstone left Maglor alone to say farewell.  And by the time he caught up with the Company, he was infuriated to see what was transpiring.  Although Beren had just cleaned up on his two trolls, Dwalinstone could not account for two of the Seven (he would learn of Stargeld's brave deed later on, though).  He noticed one that had been mortally wounded, but saw the remaining two giving Vearg a brutal beating.  And Tyseni, where was her dear friend and beast?  And it was at that decisive moment that Dwalinstone heard the words of his forefather Thorin, and remembered his amazing deeds at the Battle of Five Armies - and was himself inspired, feeling the adrenaline pumping through this veins.  Dwalinstone lept like a deer over one tree which had been broken, and launched himself into the action.  His axe glimmered like the reflection of the sun, cutting off the right arm of one troll, freeing Vearg in that single act.  This undoubtedly angered the troll, but before he could react, Dwalinstone cut his throat, casting darkness over his eyes.  The final and remaining troll saw himself faced with three foes - Dwalinstone, Vearg and now Beren, who had jumped in to aid his comrades.  The troll cursed the three allies in the tongue of Morgul saying: "Seven you might nearly take, but the Witch King will send more to thwart your plan.  Mirkwood you shall not reach!"  At his closing words, the troll fled into the woods.*

[Wolfchild]

*Instantly and without knowing it, Vearg shouted back to it "You may tell him then, that he will be sacrificing his people needlessly. He should know now what we are capable of!" But shockingly, she said it in the same language that the troll had just spoken. Not understanding the black speech of Morgul, the inflicted members of the company to whom she owed her life backed away slightly, but she turned round to greet them with a wide smile, and though she had spoken in the tongue of their enemies, they realised her words were not malicious. No words as yet could convey her thanks, and so she nodded with understanding at Beren, but uncertainty was still evident on Dwalinstone's part. Vearg, it seemed, was unsure of how to approach the dwarf, but suddenly and without warning, she knealt before him, muttering a blessing in the language of the wolves, and took his hand to kiss it. Some said afterwards that the dwarf had blushed, and others said he almost bore a smile, but when Vearg looked up again, she saw all that she wished for him to show; deep inside his eyes, understanding. 

But with rapid change, Vearg's own face turned pale and horror stricken. "Tsyeni!" she shouted, getting up and running to find the place where he had fallen. Her mind flashed back to Helm's Deep..."No!" she exclaimed, for the sight that greeted her, and the wish for that memory to fade. He lay unconcious and bleeding, but as she put her head upon his chest, she almost wept for the joy at the sound of his breathing. Tearing off a piece of her own coat with ferocity, she used this as a mock bandage, and proceeded to tend to what wounds her loyal friend bore. Around the clearing, men and dwarf alike recovered themselves from the shock of the attack, helping those who needed it, with Beren and Dwalinstone asessing the injuries of the brave Stargeld, who was in a similar condition to Tsyeni. When a good while later Maglor came through to the scene that met his eyes, it was Beren who took it first upon himself to explain what had occured in his absence...*

[Beren One-Hand]

*The Company attended to, and gathered their wounded, and mustered what strength they had and continued on northward through Lorien, by-passing the city of Cerin Amroth.  Once on their way out of Lorien, the Company meandered their way along the Aduin stopping at a point in the river where it bent, and headed northeast.  This seemed like a disireable place to set up camp.*

*Although the encampment was quiet and peaceful, Beren fell into a trance once again, and remembered something he saw in the sacred pool back at Caras Galadon.  The mystical voice, and vision within the pool mentioned something about their exact location - their current encampment.  And then Beren remembered, that it was this exact location that bore the same latitude to Dol Guldur.  Fear and wonder entered into his mind.  And he was tempted to launch an assault on Dol Guldur himself.  After all, their purpose was to enter Mirkwood, and to seek Thrandul.  And conveniently, Dol Guldur lied within the realm of Mirkwood also.  Venturing to Dol Guldur would require the Company crossing the river, and undoubtedly, all areas near the city of Angmar would be heavily guarded.  Such a mission might be thought impossible, brave or even foolhardy.  But if one were to engage in such a mission, it would required stealth and speed, and would only be suitable for two at the most.  This would mean that the remainder of the Company would travel on alone, while the two would seek out Angmar and attempt to destroy him, once for all.  The two could be none other than Vearg and Beren, and could not involve Xeonphax or Tsyeni; these beasts and friends, would have to venture on with Maglor, Stargeld and Dwalinstone to meet Thrandul.  Should Beren ask Vearg if she would venture with him, without her beloved beast?  Would she leave her Tsyeni to journey with him?  Beren was quite fond of Vearg, and his respect for her increased with each and every day.  But would she feel the same way?  Beren required one who knew Angmar as she did.  If he could be eliminated in secret, then the Company could focus on Morgoth, whose whereabouts were unknown at this time . . . *

[Wolfchild]

*Resolved that her wolf could once again walk, Vearg was very much happy as the company proceeded to take camp again. But the location that the company chose to rest now put doubt in her mind slightly, for its dangerous distance to Dol Guldur, which she had been all too familiar with once. She also knew what lurked within that place, as she was surprised when she had last had to venture inside that it was actually men, rather than the common orcs and goblins obedient in their slavish servitude, who had taken control of the place, though still resolutely working under the bidding of Angmar himself. But they, like her, had always been deceived, and always would be as long as they believed the false promises from their masters; freedom, homeland, amongst other lies.

There was a fairly good mood amongst the company that evening, for the incident with the trolls was still rife, but confidence within all was building up steadily. That would prove well, Vearg thought, in the upcoming battles with the creatures of the Witch King, for it was both courage and strength that would sway the battle in their favor. But Vearg, looking across to Beren, noticed that something was plaguing this  man of honor. Maybe the troll unsettled him still, but more likely was it that he was thinking of a plan of action for the upcoming days. However, something in the way that he looked distantly to the east, made her think that the next part of their mission would not be so fluent.*

[Beren One-Hand]

*Beren, after looking eastward toward Dul Guldur for what seemed several hours, turned with determination in his eyes toward the Company.  He did not desire to part with any of them, but he knew that some tasks must be done by the few, and even some by individuals.  He would go alone, even if Vearg would not part with Tsyeni and the Company.  But before he could speak, Stargeld, who seemed to be recovering from his war wounds, spoke up: "It seems as though this bend in the river forces you to face your destiny head on.  For it has been revealed to me from the Valor that you must make a choice at this place, your inevitible cross-roads.  But you are not the only one to be faced with such a choice.  One other among us must also face this choice head on.  For we must not linger much longer.  The enemy is searching all the roadways, pathways, gates, towns and even waterways.  If we linger, we will be found.  We must keep moving onward.  Let the division among the Company begin here.  Speak Beren, and speak also the one who must face the same challenge . . . "*