I figure that since I have a nice description all written out, I owe everyone an explanation about why I never actually flag myself as roleplaying. (Note that the list of characters my.lotro has lies, this is for Sugarsnap, my level 32-ish elf warden. All these newfangled things... hence why I also don't have this in a blog entry or what have you)


"You see," the elf woman said solemnly, bringing her hand to her chin with a flourish as she pontificated, "a true warden has no need for a helm. Absolutely no need. All a good warden needs is her shield."


"Mm-hmm! It's absolutely true," she said, wagging her finger to emphasize her point. "The armor, well, that's mostly for little scuffs here and there. But something as important as your head - that's what your shield is for! Any warden will tell you that."


"And besides, a good hit over the head is healthy for you. It shakes up all of those stagnant thoughts. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise, uh..." The elf woman paused, chewing on a fingernail a moment before going to fiddle with her hair. "What was your name again? I am so sorry, I know, horrible manners..."

This time, the remarkably patient tarkrip answered with a dull roar. Sugarsnap winced as spittle hit her face, and then gave a wince. "I'm fairly sure I have a breath mint in my bag if you wa-hhauugh!" Fortunately, her shield was quicker than her wit, and as the tarkrip brought its sword down, her spear was ready to match each strike for strike.

And down in a nearby hollow, Candaith gave a sigh. The ranger was used to feeling more confident some days than others. This would be one of the days where the Enemy taking over the whole of Middle-Earth seemed completely plausible.

"Right! Done with that," the elf called out happily, waving the rubbing from the top of Weather-top over her head as she slid down the steep embankment. "I got a bit lost on the way back, but I'm done now!" He winced as she dug her spear head-first into the dirt, slowing down her descent before she rather cheerfully bounded over to him, thrusting the bit of paper out towards him.

"Thank you, Sugarsnap." He looked the rune over, frowning a bit. "...I fear we may be heading to Weathertop ourselves, soon." The ranger paused a moment. "Is that truly your name? Sugarsnap?"

"Oh, yes, of course," she said almost boastfully. "Well, yes and no, I suppose. Everyone just calls me Sugarsnap. I think that works fine."

"I thought elves were taken to... names in their own tongue. I suppose your nickname is a translation?"

"No, no, nothing silly as that."

"...Then you have a different name?"

"Yes," she said enthusiastically.

"Then what is it?"

A blank expression crossed her face. "Um." She paused, reaching up to chew on her fingernail again. "Well. ...I have it written down here somewhere..." She reached out to pull what Candaith had assumed were decorative fans out of her hair. "No, that's not it... um... oh, dear, I'd better return that library book, I hope they charge late fees by the decade and not the day..."

The ranger stared at her in disbelief. "You have... forgotten... your own name?"

"Not forgotten! I've just - I've just misplaced -" She frowned poutingly at another note pulled from her hair. "Oooh, I do need to buy more milk, don't I?" She glanced up at him. "Oh, don't give me that look. I remember the important things! Like what to do with my shield and what to do with my spear. And the badgers."

"Badgers?" Candaith asked, with the expression and tone of a man who knew he was about to regret asking such a question.

"Of course," she said solemnly. "We elves, the first-born of Middle-Earth, are equally cursed and blessed with the ability of prophecy! ...It's this recurring dream I have, you see. I finally step foot in Mordor, fighting the Enemy, and... badgers." She gestured widely, gesticulating with her shield still on her arm. "Just a sea of badgers. A horrible, writhing, squirming mess. And of course I was the only one who had thought to plan ahead with a badger-proof boat, you know, with reinforced iron plates on the sides, and some decent heavy shovels."

Candaith gently reached up to pinch his nose in frustration. "With all due respect, Sugarsnap, I don't think that all dreams are prophetic..."

"They most certainly are! You'll be sorry when we get to Mordor and you look at me and start to complain, 'ooh, Sugarsnap, I didn't bring my badger repellent', I'll just have to tell you that I only have enough for myself and you should have thought to plan ahead -"

"Just - nevermind," the ranger said with a sigh. "We need to start moving to Weathertop..." He dropped his voice to a mumble. "And I hope you're infinitely better with your spear than with your head..."

"What's that?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing..."