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Noting the new arrivals, a rather strange pair consisting of a man and a woman with a peculiar inclination towards wearing black, apparently, Tyrann cast a last glance at the child before rising and introducing himself in a formal, but quick manner "Greetings, milady and sir, Sir Tyrann would be my name, but excuse the shortness of the introduction, there is a matter of great concern..." before turning back to face the man who appeared to be so very eager on bringing an innocent child directly into harm's way.


"Sir Starthruster, I can only voice my objection, I will not have it that a member of this group takes a little girl like this needlessly towards the greatest of dangers, not just to body, but also mind and even soul! The better course of action will be to bring her to an orphanage, that she may find a good-hearted guardian to take care of her in safety! Certainly, there must be such in a village or one near of here, yes?"
 
"Do not worry, I can gladly clean this place up for you, sir," Rismond said smiling. "And we should get started." Mirana nodded her head in agreement. "I will also aid with tiding up this place," she said, turning her attention to Orydd.
 
Teddy sat there in his own world for a moment, listening to the fires crackle nearby with the hint of voices in the background. He still hadn't gotten the bloody answer for why there were so many big folk crowding his once cozy humble home. If anything, he would give whatever he could for them to get out and leave him alone to be calm and collected. "What a night.." he whispered, rubbing his temples before running a small hand through his messy locks.










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Orydd bowed her head to the two that happened to join them, telling her that they would help tidy the place before they set off on their adventure. She could only smile beneath her veil, raising her glass again at such noble soon-to-be companions. "Sir Mumford would very much so appreciate such gratitude," she said, lowering it and holding it between her two delicate hands. "For he is under much stress already." Orydd turned her attention to the discussion of whether to allow the orphan child to go along with them on future journeys or send her off on her way. "I agree with Sir Tyrann on this one, I'm afraid. Unless.. the girl has experience in fighting, gathering or is an avid learner." she nodded her head. "We can't allow anyone to be responsible for her.. death if it does occur during our quest."


 
Anna's face turned to a slight defensive scowl, hearing these people talk. What? Did they think she was useless? Having a temper nearly as short as herself, Anna began to go off on a near-frothing rant. "I'm not useless! I've got plenty of combat experience! I've been firing a bow since before I could walk, and I DARE you to find a better lookout than me! I'm going with you, and that's that!"


The girl had quite the mouth. It was true she was good with a bow, but perhaps she had exaggerated slightly... Oh well, as long as she got to go on the journey with them.
 
Leonard felt the girl getting angry. All that went on around him sped through, racing in and out of his brain faster than he was able to comprehend. He thought the girl was a little sad though. Who could blame her? After all, she was an orphan. A b-b-b- a bad word that started with a b like Leonard was, possibly. In such a way, he felt a bit of sympathy toward the little girl, though he didn't actually know why himself. Slowly, with a full stomach, he began to inch closer to the little girl, it's okay, don't cry. Leonard said, patting her on the head his his over sized hands deftly as possible so as not to hurt her as he did so many others.


"It's okay. Don't cry", he told her.
 
Catherine shrugged.


"She could be telling the truth." looking the small girl up and down again before continuing.


"I've seen children of about her age fight alongside grown men and held their own, you'd be surprised what even a small body can do in a trying situation." Catherine took a long draught of wine from the goblet in front of her.


"So she may not be as fragile as you think." She deposited the goblet back on the table and began drumming her fingers on the surface.


"Besides, I haven't even heard what we're doing yet, all I've been told is that I'm to accompany those who attend this meeting, no matter the outcome or nature of it. So maybe if we were all looking at the same side of the tapestry, so to speak, we'd all have a better idea of what's going on, and then we can make a decision." She looked up at the crowd of oddly matched people. It was strange, having served in an all human regiment for so long, working with different races was more than a little off-putting.
 
"I'm not saying you're useless. I'm just saying you should come with me, let me train you." Auriel said to the huffy young girl.


"Though I have to say: this took me a lot of trial and error to figure out what I was doing. Are you up for the challenge?"
 
The night air was fresh and crisp, the smells of hay and honey on the wind made the dark shroud less gloom, Gliba looked up into the sky and saw several stars as he walked by a picket fence. Behind it stood a Hobbit who eyed him with a modicum of suspicion, "How do you do sir?" Gliba asked the stout Hobbit cheerily, "I am a tinker by trade could I help you at all?" The gnome stopped momentarily but was greeted with a short huff and a grumpy shake of the head, Gliba smiled and continued his slow walk towards the abode of one Hobbit by the name of Ted Mumford. Having already ascertained the Hobbit's whereabouts Gliba thought it wise simply to take his time and observe his surroundings, the Hobbits could prove to be a very profitable investment for future reference.


The small Gnome looked up into what was left of a Hobbit hole door, the hinges were bent beyond recognition while the door lay askew inside, unable to fight his instincts, Gliba took out a few tools and made short work of what was left of the hinges and managed to fix the door with a little magic enhancement that would see the portal undamaged in the future should something else knock it from its perch. Gliba knocked fervently on the now repaired door and with a small amount of trepidation Gliba shrugged and took a step inside, the house was rather spacious for one of his own minute size and he found a hook where he could hang his small cloak and pack before making his way into the main eating area which seemed to be filled with a variety of different people. "I am Glibadon Albigarium; Head Artificer and Tinker of the 100th Primarium." He introduced himself to the group though it looked as they were all rather preoccupied, Gliba looked for a Hobbit and found one, the gnome bowed to who he thought was his host "Please sir, forgive my impolite and unannounced intrusion into your home and allow me the honour of your hospitality." He asked before turning back to the assembled group and bowing to them in kind.
 
The sky was streaked with red and hues of purple, sprawled across the dawn like a bloody battlefield. The elf stood on the balcony outside of her little wooden house that she had recently purchased upon arrival. It was there the crows came after a long flight, specking the ground just outside of her house with their horrid droppings. When she had first come here, everyone would offer her the oddest of looks, as if she were a dirtied man with his face stuck in a cowpie after downing a little too much hummingbird mead. She was no drunkard, nor man, nor dirty. She was a noble elf.


Lothirel's piercing eyes were cast upon the stone horses placed on either side of her house, looking charming with the intricate engravings. She caught herself fathoming what their lifeless eyes had seen. They were old, and here long before her. What have they seen... If only stone tongues and horses could speak. Preposterous! The elf shook her head, her loose raven curls swaying.


"Lothiriel, we have visitors." Draven spoke softly, as if loathe to ruffle his battle sister's thoughts. She silently turned on the balls of her feet and ambled back inside, her pointed ears just barely peeking through her dark hair. She wore a white silken dress, and had nothing on her feet. Idly reaching forward, she curled her fingers into the grey cloth of her cloak before slyly ripping it off the back of a wooden chair and swinging it over her shoulders, lithely fastening the silver latch. "Show them in," she spoke in a soft octave, her tone like honey.


"Ah! Aren't you a pretty lil' elven girl!" The drunken voice of a strange man was heard as he burst past Draven, who was only temporarily staying in her humble abode. "Who are you?" Lothiriel inquired, lifting a brow quizzically. "Uh..." the dirty man looked down at his mud caked toes, trying to remember. "Show him out, Draven..." she mumbled with a wave of dismissal. Nodding, Draven shoved the man out the door and slammed it, leaving the man to lay on his face in the dirty earth.


After a few hours, it was time for her to bid goodbye to Draven as he was preparing to leave.


Sighing softly, Lothiriel pushed her way through the crowd and to her brother in arms who now sat atop a horse in shining armour. "Here. Take this coin and bread. You have a long ride ahead of you." After handing over the small bundle to Draven, he smiled down at her but Lothiriel didn't return it. He leaned down and placed a simple kiss to her cheek. "Pain is inevitable, suffering in optional. Remember that, Lothiriel," and with that, he rode off. The female watched him until he was a speck in the distance before she turned and walked home, clutching a tankard of ale.
 
The knight was silent for some time, his helmeted gaze switching between those speaking "Truly, it would appear that the child has no one to accept, nor take care of her..."


Finally, he made his decision, as he stared at the girl for some time, stating "Very well then, child, our goodness-blessed quest you shall accompany." before he cast his view upon the rest of the room's occupants "I must demand that all of you watch for this child by your very lives, for worthless our quest would be if not even a single innocent we can protect!"


Once again he knelt down before her, lightly touching her shoulder in a univeral gesture of careful explanation "Child, as you accompany us, allow me to teach you your first and, perhaps, most important of lectures: Quite numerous are the buttocks of villainy, all of them demanding for the mighty boot of goodness!" rising again, he kept his gaze upon her, before clarifying his statement "Buttkicking, dear. Buttkicking, for goodness!"


Bowing deeply before sir Starthruster, Tyrann only just now noticed the diminuitive figure of the just-so-arrived gnome, who was currently in the process of bowing before the assembled group. Once more, that familiar feeling of instinctive dislike trained upon him during his time within the Order's halls was apparent, however he had long ago learned that something as relative as species meant little before the shining light of goodness, even if the traitorous feeling remained.


Thus, after a moment's hesitation, the knight returned the courteous bow and spoke "My greetings you have as well, sir Albigarium, Sir Tyrann Streiter would be my name." moving back to where he had been seated at the table, where his fairy was still busily chewing away at the fruit, the knight, lightly touching her forehead with his steel-clad fingertips, introduced her as well "This is my dear companion, Navi, a more joyous soul you shall barely find.", his voice bearing no small amount of reverence.


Feeling his touch and hearing his words, the fairy in return paused from her meal to look up at the knight, smiling and cooing once, before resuming.
 
Left tending pigs that weren't even his, quite the poor man's job. Yes, it was a job, it mattered little the labor, the stature, the inner accomplishment, it was a job. It gave money, thus the worker is fed, thus he is alive, to work again another day, that is all that matters. A man as tall, as strong, and as unruly looking as Lite would have the most difficult time finding a job amongst hobbits. Out of anything, Lite simply intimidated any he came across, to the point where they simply screamed and drew arms. However, the hobbits, being kind of heart, and honestly thinking all tall folk looked the same, let Lite work amongst them. It had been a difficult road here, but he was here now, that is all that has ever mattered. As much as Lite loved tending pigs, he aimed for more, he wanted something easier, something where he get more attention from the fine young women, that were hopefully his size. Something that paid better, something where he could more or less sit back and simply reap the benefits. Alas, that seemed to far form his reach, but perhaps one day. For now, it would be hard work, toiling to the next hard labor job to the next. The only women he got to see was the lonely house wives that never got any attention from their husbands, on occasion he would be invited by a young girl seeking a thrilling new experience with tall man. Still, it wasn't to Lite's taste, but he was willing to oblige to the pleasures. It is what it was, and will never change; it still mattered little to what others might think of Lite because of it.


Today may be different, not to long ago, while tending some pigs, Lite saw, what looked to be, a caravan of rogues and warriors. What they were doing in such a place as a small hobbit town was beyond Lite, although it caught his interest. It did not catch quite enough to get him to skip out on work, so he kept to the pigs, and when he was set free to do as he pleased, he took his due, washed up, changed into a cleaner set of clothing, and went off to follow the trail of the caravan. Again, Lite wasn't utterly obsessed with figuring out what was going on, but he was simply interested. Thus he was simply walking there, at a casual pace. Occasional stops to take a breath, enjoy the scenery of the rolling hills and plains, then move on. Some hobbits would occasionally wave hello, and excitedly try to stir up a conversation, which, as usual, would be turned down by Lite. Lite did not enjoy the gossip and talk of farming that the hobbits found such fondness in. So he ended up being a very unsocial person amongst the hobbits, although very noticeable, thanks to being much taller than the hobbits, as well as his horns adding almost another foot to his height. As much as the hobbits tried to open his heart, he would not.


Soon enough Lite was upon the house of which the caravan had stopped at. Lite gazed upon the house, aiming to recognize who lived there. The Mumfords, he believed. Lite wasn't well acquainted with them, but he may have done a few jobs for their relatives. Although, now Lite was interested, being as they such visitors. Lite stood outside the house for a few moments, trying to decide what the best course of action was, he was opting for simply waiting until the end of the visit and asking later, but Lite had work earlier today, so maybe not. Lite felt like an idiot, standing out there, trying to come up with an excuse to walk in. Finally, tenaciously Lite marched to the small oval door of the hobbit's hovel, lifted his fist and rasped his knuckles against the door a few times.


"Ay, Mumford, you alive in there? I saw some suspicious looking people coming in here earlier, thought it'd be kind of me to check up on you and make sure none have run off with your head," Lite spoke, his voice was rough and gravelly, but still kept a mature charm to it, "but in all seriousness, is everything alright in there?"
 
Lothiriel paused before the door of her house, her pointed ears training on a house up the road that belonged to Mumford. Suddenly she remembered that she was suppose to be there. Sighing, she pulled the door of her house closed and turned to face the street. Glancing at the stone horses that she frequently admired, she jumped down the steps and begun to briskly walk towards Ted's house, her raven hair blowing behind her in the wind.


Pausing before the door, she stood there and listened quietly for any sign of danger. Only idle conversation was heard from inside the house. She adjusted her grey cloak, flicking up the hood to conceal her piercing eyes. No one but Draven had ever seen her abnormal optics. Lothiriel silently waited outside, trying to compile herself. Crowds were never her thing and people agitated her.
 
Hearing the knocking and the words of question once again behind the, as the gnome had done, newly-repaired door, the massive knight rose from his seat again, approaching the door, expecting to greet another perpetrator of goodness.


Just as his hand reached the handle, however, he froze, eyes behind the helmet widening as a sharp, burning sensation struck the fingers touching the doorknob, while the fairy, that was just still chewing her apple, suddenly looked up in shock. Clenching his unseen teeth, the knight slammed open the door...


"Who-"


To behold an at first normal appearing, but definitely horned humanoid with further elven features, such as the symmetrical shape of the face and the pointed ears. The familiar pain gripped the knight, though the one received from this being appeared not... permanent, but rather weak and fleeting...


Back at the table, the fairy let go of the fruit, hastily got up and flew to her knight, clinging onto the back of his right shoulder as her sapphire eyes inspected the creature, her presence easing the torment of the knight.


A moment of silence reigned, then the knight's stern voice, now girded with what could be called an edge, eyes narrowed, intoned "What is your business here? Who are you?"
 
Lothiriel's pink lips twitched slightly at the sight of the knight, half her face shadowed from the canopy of her cloak's hood. She reached her hand out, finger tips brushing against his shoulder. Small shocks trailed after each touch before she withdrew her hand, head tilting downward. From what she had just compiled without words, the elf deemed him safe.


"I am Lothiriel," she spoke in a soft tone, hands resting down by her side. She lifted a hand once more, but this time for a completely different reason. Amending the position of the silver band with enthralling engravings on her upper arm, the dauntless elven warrior sustained the onlookers without shuddering with disdain. The lower half of her visible features were forlorn of emotion. The smell from inside the house intrigued her, and she could tell the food was abundant. Her acute eyes picked up movement just beyond the foyer and she sighed soundlessly. Standing here was growing tedious.


"May I?" She inquired, gesturing towards the warmth of the house and the light that shined bright. She hoped that the knight wasn't seeing her as an adversary and now an accomplice. Her desolate, hidden optics flickered back to the knight's face, her body language growing adverse as the seconds ticked by. Trying to decipher the male that stood in the way grew boring and she looked down the road, staring at the stone horses that sat motionless in her yard, guarding the house.
 
Thorbyn sat in the room with his hands clasped together in deep thought, finally he spoke up "Very well, the orphan child stays, however you will be largely useless in a fight, Orcs are big, armored and natural warriors, a poor, weak orphan girl would be swept asside in a moment, i have seen it before... Child, i give you no choice in this matter, I will instruct you in the ways of the bow and the blade, i will not tollerate someone in our group who cannot hold their nown to some degree, i think i have another blade on me somewhere..."


Thorbyn stood up, rummaging amongst his armor and furs that covered his body before producing a single large dagger, which to her would almost be the size of a shortsword, he handed it to her handle-first "Weild this with pride, i don't want to see another child dead from trying to fight Orcs or wildmen with but a stick and a rock"
 
Gliba sensed some tension in the room but the big burly knight with the fairy had already moved to the just repaired portal to allow yet another tall visitor in, the gnome dismissed what everyone else was doing as soon as he had seen a spare bowl of still warm stew sitting atop the Hobbit sized table. Hungry, Gliba moved to the table and procured the bowl of stew and took a spoon from his pocket and began to eat immediately after he had found a rather uncluttered and unoccupied space (though there were few remaining). Gliba was well prepared for this adventure, he had even packed his best inventions along with him. Spoon in his mouth and stew traveling steadily to his stomach the small gnome observed the room a little and pondered how he could be of help to these apparently accomplished warriors of the upper world, Gliba couldn't help his small inkling of suspicion against those taller than 5 feet.


He was a gnome of intelligence and Gliba had reminded himself countless times that he would not let his mistrust of the taller folk to jade his views of them though they constantly provided him with evidence against their case. He had been mulling over how he could even continue on in the upper world if he were unable to get beyond his racial imprint of these people. Of all the people gathered Gliba noticed that there seemed to be only one of the group with very little combat experience beside himself and that was a rather tall young girl (though by comparison everybody except hobbits, dwarves and other gnomes are tall to him). She looked somewhat ragged and tired. Gliba noted also that Teddy didn't seem the type to wield a blade either, in fact old Teddy looked about as harmless as a mouse. At least Gliba had the sense to burden himself with dangerous objects so as to deterr even the most foolhardy of foes. The stew itself was the best thing he had eaten in more than a week and ravished every morsel of it. "I wonder when we'll leave." He pondered aloud.
 
Auriel stared at Thorbyn with his mouth open in shock for a few seconds, amazed at the lack of sense the man was showing.


"If you don't want her getting killed, why the bloody hell would you give her a knife for a weapon? She even said she was an archer. Hell, I'll myself teach her how to shoot if it means you don't lead a kid to her death."
 
Catherine looked at the two men discussing how best to outfit the child for battle.


She sighed inwardly, it mattered not how she was armed, if she actively sought a fight it wouldn't end well.


And then an idea struck her, she quietly left the room and house, having to squeeze her way past the armoured figure on the way. Catherine walked up to her horse, and after fiddling with some straps on its side returned to the house with something in her hand.


She walked into the room and up to the child.


"Stay still for a minute will you?" She asked the small girl before putting a leather strap with what appeared to be a large-ish leather pad over her head and resting it on the girls neck. She then strapped another piece of a similar cord around her waist and the pad, holding it in place.


"There." she stated flicking it.


"That's a piece of hardened leather from the flank armour of my horse, and it's far better at stopping a blade or arrow than the clothing you have on." she took a few steps backwards and looked the small girl up and down a couple of times.


"It won't win you any awards for decoration or elegance. But maybe it'll keep you alive a few minutes longer." She headed over to the table and picked up her goblet taking another few sips and sitting back down near the sleeping wizard.
 
Thorbyn glarted at Auriel "because a bow will do a fat lot of good at close range you daft fool! too many archers think they need only a bow, only a fool takes a bow but refuses a blade, or else she'd be using her fists if an enemy scout sneaked up on her! so tell me you daft little worm, what would you have her do if she came in close contact with a cunning foe who got too close for her to use her bow? of she was in a confined space where there's not enough room for a bow, what then!?.... damn fool" Thorbyn stood over Auriel, his large hand resting on the hilt of his blade "or would you like to test this outside? your bow against my blade, see which one comes out on top..." his eyes were focussed and deadly, he had full intent behind his words.
 
"What kind of an idiot thinks a child can hold her own in melee combat, regardless of what she's armed with?" Auriel shouted back at the man while spreading his arms and taking a few steps forward. "Besides which, you make it sound like a good archer can't kill his enemy before he sees him. Fools like you just charge headlong into the line of fire; at least the rabbits have the sense not to be seen."
 
"I wouldn't put her on the front line, and don't forget what Rabbits do when spotted, they run, and even when cornered they don't fight because they can't, at least with a blade she has a chance when she finds herself in that situation, and she will, soner or later, all it takes is for one twig to snap and one orc faster than her for Melee to be a nessecity, and at least with a blade, she'd have a CHANCE! she'd have some way of defending herself, or do you plan on staying with her at all times to protect her every second of every day?"
 
Thorbyn grumbled "Very well, when you see her cornered in some building with a dozen orcs bearing down on her, and yourself indisposed, her blood is on your hands, i will hold you responsible for her actions, and her wellbeing is in your hands" he looked to the young woman "keep the blade, even an archer needs some blade on them, despite what some people think..." he glared at Auriel "is that understood? her blood, her flesh... it's all on you..."
 
Roused by the rising level of voices, Baznif awoke with a start, nearly toppling out of the chair. A quick grab of the edge of the table kept him upright even as the chair went back on two legs. At least until he tried to grab both hat and staff at the same time. Baznif went to the ground tangled in the undersized hobbit furniture, cursing furiously as he laboriously clambered to his feet. "Damn near broke my hip." He muttered to no one in particular, before turning towards the commotion.


"Eh? Don't you young folks have any respect for your elders? Keep it down will you!" He shouted at the two arguing men. "Strutting about like a bunch of alley cats, probably fighting over some woman." Still muttering about the impertinence of youth and the evils of women, he set about retrieving the chair from the floor, righting it and resuming his position on it. He yawned. "Wake me again and incur the wrath of Baznif the brilliant..." He said sleepily, making a halfhearted threatening gesture with his staff, already heading down the path to sleep.
 
Mumford was one tall Hobbit, wait no, this isn't Mumford. Talking of children fighting, people casting magic abruptly before people. This was definitely not common, Lite actually felt the urge to back away, and simply turn and head off not to bother himself with this nonsense. But something urged him to stay, something tickling feeling his gut that forced him to rethink his life, where he was, where he was headed. Whatever they were talking about, it had his attention, this time, it had a tight grip on it. Now it was obvious that, behind this anxious knight, there was an argument unfolding. But the armored fool before Lite blocked all sight. Who wears armor inside a hovel, idiots, that's who. Now this daft knight was asking why Lite had shown himself upon the door. Was he deaf, did he not hear the yelling Lite uttered as he knocked upon the wooden door frame? Oh, it must be the armor, what else could it be? Though Lite could hear something of taking children into combat, at that point, Lite felt a fatherly protection rise over him.


With a quick, lunging movement, Lite dashed in between the crack between the armored man and the door. Lite staggered into the small house and took a only a quick moment to examine his surroundings, this place was brimming with all manner of creatures. What kind of cult was gathering here? In the room though, he saw them, the hobbit, Mumford, and a young child. Lite quickly dashed over to them, took a stance of demand beside them, and spoke with tenacity, "What in the name of the divines are you all doing here?" This was quite the gathering, what was exactly happening was not known to Lite, but he was willing to stick around to find out.


"Mumford, have you fallen into some demonic cult? Do you sacrifice young children now?" Lite interrogated. He kept a staggered stance, keeping an eye on everyone he could in the room. With the amount of armed men there, this was definitely not a gathering of tea drinkers. "Just what in the hell is going on here?!" Lite yelled, loud enough for the surrounding buildings to be bothered.
 
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