The Bringer of Fire
The Blade and The Blind
Shouldst Thou fall in the wild, lift thy voice to the Cloud Realm. The one who answers will be thine salvation.
- Ælbdís Gaomee of the Cloud Children
Summer dawns in the lands of Middle-Earth as Ælbdís Gaomee sets out alone to reach the lands of the North, those of her birth, her true home. But as at the sky darkening clouds approach and she passes the Anduin to the west of Dol Guldur, Orcs break from beneath the undergrowth and assault the blind maiden. Alone her cunning and a twist of fate rescues her from certain death and she can drag herself, wounded by an arrow many miles south to the village of Stangard. As she arrives, Ælbdís meets one she had not expected. Edstan, a boaster and womanizer and to that Greatest Knife-fighter who ever lived as he claims, can persuade the guard to let the wounded elf enter the settlement in order to rest. Edstan realizes quickly that this meeting had not been by chance but that their path are now bound to lead next to one another. Helping the Elf to recover she offers him to accompany her to the lands of her since long lost kin: The Withered Heath. Undaunted does the boaster agree, proves Ælbdís his abilities in a training session. Therein does the Elf lead the Man on the secret Elven-Path, beyond the plains and hills of Rohan, over wild lands and up to Esgaroth; Edstan's home. Soon however it is clear that the situation is far more dire than the two had expected, for the Erebor as well as Lake-Town are greatly endangered by the Easterlings. Soon the friends find themselves between two fronts, for in the Withered Heath is a fiery evil at work, weaving its plot to take power.
To the beginning I will only post a sort of prologue, the training fight mentioned in the forword, before I then start to write chapters and to update this thread once in a while. Of cause will the story also be on the Laurelin Archives, chapter for chapter, progressing as my RP with Edstan does. Until Rohan is here, or any other lands to the North we will most likely use already given loactions as settings. Who knows, maybe if you look out, you will find us! The Story here will be made mostly of the RP of course that Edstan and me will perform. Some things I might change in form and/or order so that I do not just post a chat-log here. I will prepare it into novel-form. The upcoming prologue and fighting scene was barely re-worked, the following chapter will most likely hardly to be perceived as from chat-log written. Some scenes I might add, as well as fictive characters or antagonists in order to have many perspectives.
I hope you enjoy the reading! Your Ælbdís Gaomee
Edstan brushed himself off.
"Alright! Any rules? Or are we just going to duke it out like brawlers?" he asks as politely as he could to which Gaomee smiled. She took up her helmet of ancient craft. Some of the Rohirrim eyed them already, interested, some suspicious. Her red hair fell down the sides of her face unto her chest, the winged helmet of her kin, adorning silver her head.
Edstan however said nothing, merely watching Ælbdís strap her ornate helmet to her head. His eyes were not focused on the eyes of the men, nor was his head set on other problems. Right now, it was Ælbdís, and his blades. Nothing more. With hands draped over the pommels, he cocks his head, waiting for a sign of confirmation.
It took Gaomee a moment to think as she drew 'Aldoreel', her ever loyal sword.
''Rules? Alas, no deadly manoeuvres of course. This is no battle of foes, but one of friends. Speak the word 'end', if thou wishest to end this combat. For whatever reason.''
'’Are you ready?'‘ was what Edstan announced. It was cold and calculated. Enough that any trained combatant would know that this was not going to be a fight of friendship, but rather a lesson to be learned.
Gaomee nodded and raised 'Aldoreel', grasping the blade with both hands. She slightly spread her feet on a stabile position, the blade perpindicular to the horizon next to her. An easy stance. ''I am ready,'' she announced in return.
Edstan had a sudden look come over him, like a hood being drawn over his eyes. "It" had surfaced. In the blink of an eye, Edstan was gone, replaced by something that was way, way out of Ælbdís league; or so Edstan would claim. He blurred, strafing around his opponent, his knives drawn so quick that Ælbdís would have little time to imagine how he had managed to unsheathe them. Already, he was closing in on his friend, knife being plunged towards her wounded area. Cruel. But in a fight, there were was no sympathy, and Edstan did not fight with honour, though he blatantly lied about such.
The Elf was unlike the man called Edstan, who claimed many a thing of which everything held a true core. As he assaulted her like a storm, with his blade known as 'Tempest', it was her who was calm. A faint breeze within the eye of a great wind. Ælbdís stepped forward, evading the thrust of the first knife closely. Turning on her heel, she launched herself a counter. She had heard the man, knew where he stood. And while Aldoreel perform a wide arc towards her opponent, her own foot rushed forth, aiming for the sensitive spot of Edstan's heel.
Edstan caught the arc of her attack as she whirled from his strike. His foundation, ever moving, stepped with her and his foot barely missed the stomp. He didn't allow the change of her counter to allow an opportune for yet another strike. His offhand, with blade gripped tight, spun towards the opposite side of the wounded Ælbdís, while Tempest carved up in a staggering wave towards the bottom of her chin. He was precise in this action, making sure that his wrist was flicked properly and if anything were to come in contact with that, it would be the hilt of the blade, and not the end of the line, which would be difficult to explain to anyone why he had 'accidentally' murdered someone.
Ælbdís had no chance but to retreat from this assailment. Aldoreel flew up, crossing the path with Tempest and the sound of their meeting was bright. The blades left no carves in one another, for they were both forged in the North, both in a way akin to each other. They knew that there was no true danger for the lives of their masters, alas for their pride there was. By having met Tempest, Ælbdís found her opportunity to jump back. The pain from the arrow wound in her side stung like a wasp and it made her draw sharply breath as she landed on her feet, took to her own safety another step back, so that Edstan could not launch an immediate attack on her. She had to make air between them for a moment.
The man’s lunge was properly executed and while still caught in the momentum of it, he tucked into a front roll and screeched to a halt there on the soft dirt. He'd not allow her the chance to gather her composure. She was where he wanted her to be. Had her eyes not been blinded already, he would have dared scuffle some of the loose soil to toss as a diversion. Alas, that trick was not his to use. Darting towards his opponent again, he waved both arms towards his mid-centre, making use of his toned limbs as he lashed out both blades in a stunning slash that crossed towards Ælbdís in two long forty five degree angles. Striving to her sides would be ludicrous and so too would advancing towards him be ill advised. As a last act to ensure he had his opponent where he wanted, he brought his leg up in an attempt to smash the blunt of his heel against her waist. A gamble.
Gaomee had thought of the same as Edstan, as she let Aldoreel circle in order to prevent his knives from striking her. His storm began to push her to a cornered position, made her unable to counter. Her initial plan had it been to kick Edstan as soon as he would have reached her. Now both opponents seemed to have had the same thought. Foot rushed against foot, while the blades of the North clashed together in a quick melody of bright tones.
Edstan had expected retaliation, but not of the same technique. His foot connected with hers, causing him to stagger and lose his pace. Edstan allowed her this chance to gather her footing as he too had to do the same by tucking back into a crouched stance. He took a deep breath, his eyes analyzing her weaknesses. Many came to mind, but ever changing was a body in combat. He hurled himself forward, his left arm striking down towards Ælbdís hip, while his main arm swung as though he aimed to strike the elf across her chin, only to flip the grip of the blade inwards to carved at her midsection. It was a simple manoeuvre that would have tricked someone that used their eyes. This was his disadvantage and he knew the sound of the shifting blade might be all persuasion he needed to perform his next act, but it too was just a gamble.
Ælbdís had regained her footing quickly. Balance she had in her blood, in her being and few brought her too loose it. Hence she was prepared when she heard the noise of Edstan's bracers move, the blades shifting their position, cutting the air to a slightest. From below Aldoreel came up to be her shield. First the blade to her midsection was deflected, while a backhand blow fended off the other. Taking that Edstan was attacking her so easily, she thought him to be still recoiling from their impact. Aldoreel shot forth, between the knives like a hawk towards the source from where Edstan's sound of breath issued.
Edstan however smiled. The back hand blow was exactly what he had wanted. He went in rhythm with her deflection and spun around in a dangerous twirl. The sound of his cloak shifting in the wind and action to come around her lunge. He had moved from her line of attack to whip around the elf. Her back was exposed now and he lunged in for yet another blow. A killing blow, which of course was going to be strictly the ends of both knives coming into contact with her lower back less her hearing caused her to make what had been done in the confusion of the flurry of Edstan's movements.
Gaomee’s thoughts spun, as she heard the steps and felt how Aldoreel met nothing but air. It dawned her too late. In that moment Ælbdís let herself fall. The knives she might have evaded, but the quick movement caused her arrow wound to shriek up. Both hands were needed to take the impact of her short fall, letting go off Aldoreel. The moment, she landed, the moment that the pain shot in an arc up her spine to her head, robbing her momentarily of her orientation, Ælbdís raised her hand and spoke the word.
''End,'' she said.