Area Desc Unknown... Vollonwe walks, still a little stiffly, beside the wagon as it enters a defile between the heavy woods and the roaring Narog. The spray flies over the heads of the travelers and Voll's hair is getting soaked. He scans warily, the burn scars still vivid on his fair skin. Most of the hair before his ears is burnt off and he has no eyebrows, but his eyes are narrow and focused as the guide leads them toward fabled Nargothrond.  Xoria walks beside another of the wagons not far from Vollonwe and in around the middle of the group of wagons. After missing out the fight with the dragon, Xoria is especially watchful for any trouble that may be about, slips of linen for burns are within easy reach in the wagon for any on the wounded elves that may need them.  Lormiril holds his bow lightly in his hands as he travels along near the rear of the caravan. He seems ever perceptive and scans the surround terrain diligently.  Narbelithil walks closely beside Ithilhuin and also near to Taurelin...his mood seems rather somber and he isn't talking much at all..  Mounted in a mighty dark battle horse goes Endelion, of the feanorian. He still has burn marks all over his body, but seems to have recovered really fast, even for a quende. He wears armor again, and goes slowly, and close to the ones ahead. His blue eyes usually glancing around, altough he has been quiet in the last days. His blackned and burned chain has been replaced and it shines again, a dark flag with the colors and banner of Caranthir, the Dark is attached to the saddle of his mount and flows against the wind, with pride.  Vollonwe moves to the front of the caravan, catching up with the scout Angalad, He whispers to him for a moment, then looks back toward Endelion, motioning toward the Forest. One of Voll's wardens slips from a wagon and disappears into it.  The sky lights in a crimson fire as the journey of the sun leads her below the western horizon. Nighttime has begun.  Thuringwethil comes. Darkness coalesces..and opens to hundreds of tiny wings..as the bats fly free, climbing into the sky.. Thuringwethil stands revealed.  Laurendor rides uneasily in one of the back wagons, his burns still itching and the skin peeling. He hefts a hammer and, noting the worried looks of the guards, peers off to the heights rising to the South.  Thuringwethil changes shape from an Elf maiden into a giant Bat.  Alquanna sits her horse travelling with the rest of the party. She is extremely silent as she moves easily with the jostling of her horse. The base of her lance balances on the toe of one boot and the shaft is gripped loosely in one gloved hand. Her eyes sweep the horizon.  High above the flap of wings and a shadow moves along the path..dark and cold the air beneath it. Thuringwethil looks down seeking those the dragon's messenger said moved this way. She slows, circling..and turn back along the path, dark eyes glittering..seeking the orcs that move with her.  Vollonwe feels more than sees a shadow cross the path and he and Angalad crane their necks to spot the source in the failing light. Voll picks out the huge wings and spins to the wagons. "All take cover, we are found! The Bat flies!" And runs back into the pack of wagons, gesturing frantically for the warriors to arm themselves.  Evening settles in like a heavy, dark pall; blanketing the land. Moving almost noiselessly through the woods, is a small troop of wavery shadows, with small, squinting orbs that float and dance only a few feet off the ground. Faint ringing might be heard by keen ears: cold iron against leather.  Xoria is caught completly unready when Vollonwe sounds the alarm and draws her sword and follows behind Vollonwe flanking on his left side get ready for any kind of attack.  Narbelithil rushes to the wagon where his sword is stored, still quite unused to the heft of the very unfamiliar weapon, he draws it then bolts back to Taurelin and Ithilhuin's sides as the warning is shouted.  Lormiril draws an arrow and nocks it to his bow, his eyes scaning all around his edge of the perimeter. He quietly dissapears into the surrounding shrubbery, and becomes nearly invisible to all unless they are very near him...  As Vollonwe screams, Endelion's first reaction is to look around, as if he haven't belived the Sinda's words at first, then he passes his hand over the mane of his mount in a soft way and whispers some words in her ear, and then at once, she rides at incredibly speed, quickly taking the front position ahead everyone else, the dark flag in it's saddle flying back, and against the wind, her hooves hummering the ground as thunders. The battle horse stops suddenly, and Endelion's sword flies loose out of it's shealth, his blue eyes seems to burn with excitment of a coming battle, his expression seems almost... pleased? Certainly jovial! There, he stands, his gaze turned from one side to the other, trying to locate the enemy.  At the Sinda's call, Angalad turns, his eyes to the sky. A dark shadow hides most from his view, and in moments his sword is in his hand. The Nargothrondhrim's eyes turn to the mounted Feanorian beside him. "I recommend we bring forth the archers, and swiftly. How many are in your number? I may lead the women to a more secure position" comes his strong voice. He takes a step backwards and glances at those around him.  Laurendor leaps out of the wagon, whipping about to the women seated with him, (Quenya) "Down! Down! Toward the river! The warriors will take the woodline!" And reaches up to hand the first woman toward the raging waters, the only possible safe point here.  Alquanna snaps her head round and traces the path of the bat as it seems to drop from the sky. She twists fully round in her saddle eyeing the road behind us as if to guard from her position in the rear. She pulls her horse up to a halt turning the animal round once before analyzing the oncoming rush.  Gliding silently, Thur drops towards the ground. A high pitched keening cry breaks to a chittering call. Hundreds of small creatures rise from the woods around, circling above the elves in the path..some dropping into hair and clinging to clothes as they pass over. She looks down and to the sides, then backwings..dropping suddenly into the path before the elven caravan. Her eyes glow red, and the jaws snap sharply as she flings her head..spittle trailing from the maw..  Vollonwe waves madly to his few wardens, indicating bows. He pulls his sword and sweeps the line, seeing the Bat land at the front, near Endelion and Angalad. Voll and his warriors spread out to defend the waist of the caravan from the yrch horde almost certain to descend from the Forest heights. He risks a look back, noting that the women are already climbing out on the river side of the wagons and grimly smiles. Then swings back, his sword drawn and ready, the scars pulling at his skin. He notes the quiet here and suddenly changes plan, running toward the Bat, to back up Endelion against her might, which Voll well knows.  A harsh cackle is heard from the dense underbrush to the near west, grating and discomforting like the splitting of granite with a heavy maul. Many orbs, various sizes, of red and ghostly yellow can be seen bounding down through the trees, trampling any plant or small creature in their way with fierce delight. As wispy grey clouds enshroud the pale Moon, a deep, hoarse voice bellows, "Loose!" Black-fletched shafts fall among the Elves like piercing drops of rain. More harsh voices, blasphemous cries and unholy chants erupt from the woods, with the ringing of much iron.  Xoria with her sword drawn watches as the Bat lands and follows Vollonwe as he begins running at the bat, intending to guard his back from any orcs that would attack him, While he fought with the Bat.  Xoria wields a Longsword.  Narbelithil wields his broadsword clumsily, obviously only for some small comfort instead of for any real threat and trails along with the rest of the caravan...straggling toward the rear to protect the retreat as best he might if need be...  Lormiril holds his position and continues to scan the forest for any likely targets, his recurve bow half drawn in anticipatioon of the first shot.  The women scramble from the wagons, casting a quick glance back..ducking low they move towards the brush along the river. The dark wings fluttering, several shriek as the creatures dart among them as well.  Lormiril holds his position and continues to scan the forest for any likely targets, his recurve bow half drawn in anticipatioon of the first shot.  Laurendor hustles a woman under the nearest wagon and waves for those in the last one to come forward, leaving two Doriath wardens to ward the rearguard.  Thuringwethil's head darts forward, the eyes glowing like coals. She sees not who she strikes..at the nearest from..the jaws snapping..  Thuringwethil attacks Vollonwe with her Claws...hitting and badly wounding him!  Vollonwe slips Seregros from his sheath with a flourish.  Taurelin gestures with her hand, standing tight against one of the stones within the trees and several women run to her..crouching low, huddling against the rock.  Alquanna holds her mount turning it round in circles gripping tight to her lance as she watches the women near her exit the wagon. Her eyes are sweeping the horizon as their movement is covered by the pair of wardens. She sits very straight in her saddle every inch of her posture alert to anything that might intercept the women who exit the wagon.  Angalad, sword in hand, makes a dash towards the women, crouching against a rock. "Are you all well, ladies?" He asked, his voice somewhat ragged as his head turns here and there, his eyes darting around. At the sight of the loosed and flying arrows, Angalad's heart beat becomes like a drum in his chest, and he stands in front of the women, ready to fight whatever might come his way.  Coming from the north is the resounding thud of footfall, a great shape moves up from the rear of the marching elves. High above the ground fire curls up around parted lips, silver eyes gaze down with infernal power. The tail of the worm lashes from side to side, like a great cat come upon helpless prey the dragon stares on the elves as they react to the attack of the dark lady and her troops. He seems to spot one he knows and calls "Lady Alquanna..care for a challenge?" the voice is mocking and laced with contempt. He pays no glance to the wardens who stand nearby.  A battle cry echoes in the musical tongue, coming out of Endelion's throat and trough the chill air. It seems beautiful and yet powerful, he glances at the Servant of Darkness in front of him with hate flowing trough his expression, his hand holding tight in the hint of his sword, but that's when the Wyrm comes into sight... At once, Endelion's blue eyes goes distant, and for a few seconds he stares at the Horror of the Enemy. He cries another time, this time no word, neither in quenya, but a cry of pure rage, his sword goes back to his shealth and his feet hits his mount's body slightly, that begins to charge at his command, the horse goes for the Fire Beast, the dark flag containing the banner of Caranthir in it's saddle seems to flap around showing pride for it's rider as he charges against his doom, he pulls out a cavalry lance in a shealth at the horse while he shouts toward the dragon carrying not for his malicious words, "Golden One! Thou havest brought destruction days ago! Thou havest slayed the lady befront my own eyes and brought me down with thy deadly flames! Face me know, for I seek thee!" his charges goes on and his silver hair flies loose back his head against the wind, as a river of pure silver. Hate has taken him completely.  Vollonwe arrives at the front just as the Bat lashes out, and makes a perfect target for her giant claws, one of which rakes him, ribboning the bandages and leaving deep, bleeding gashes. He howls in rage and yells out, (Iathrin) "Thou hast a coward's way, Bat. No true warrior assaults so." He backs, gathering his shredded clothes, and brandishes his sword. "And this party will you not have, bitch from the Iron Hells! I call thee craven!" He sags slightly as he says this, his days-old wounds reopened before he can even land a blow.  For any who might have the luxury of time to notice, amidst the mayhem of the battle, a figure steps silently from the treeline opposite the river. Dressed in glittering mail and carrying a mighty bow, the elf that stands there, taking a moment to survey the carnage with stern eyes, is tall and regal. His eyes finally lighting on the massive form of the dragon, his mouth sets in a grim line and he raises his bow, pulling an arrow from his quiver and nocking it in one smooth motion. Drawing the string back to his ear, he pauses for the slightest moment before letting fly, the shaft winging its way toward the great beast.  Finrod launches an arrow towards Glaurung...hitting and mildly wounding him!  Alquanna growls to herself as the dragon calls her name, even as her heart leaps into her throat. Visions of the lady Falathrim who she had seen bewitched and reduced to ash just days before leap to the fore of her mind even as memories of a time long long past resurface. For a moment she is on another battlefield a long time ago. She kicks her horse into a gallop at the fell beast without any further thought. As the animal picks up speed she leans in toward its mane and slowly drops her lance into position aimed at the great beast. The gap between them narrows quickly under the thundering hooves of her mount.  Alquanna attacks Glaurung with her Lance...but she very widely misses.  Dreagoth is approaching! A howl rings out loud and pure. Slowly, a black mist seems to seep from the ground, swirling and pulsating. The mist begins to get thicker, until it seems almost solid, in the shape of a massive wolf. Then, all at once, the flaming Orange eyes snap open. The Hatred stalks this room...  Xoria stands beside Vollowe and drops back a little when she see his engage with the bat, and looks around for a target that she herself can play with.  The Noldo mason grasps the wagonside in horror as the Dragon, a nightmare he only just got out of his head, appears from the darkness directly before him. Laurendor's head spins from side to side, seeing any way away, but none appear. He is trapped by the Wyrm, again!  Thuringwethil snarls, drawing back her head..the wings rising above her. "Craven? Coward? You should speak so..I have come in the open..clear target I make. Strike if yo would.." lifting the wings high and wide.. She steps back..then leans a bit forward..arching over the elf..a hollow laugh coming from the depths of her throat..  Narbelithil rushes toward The Lady Taurelin and the group of Ladies that she has called to her near the stone. He turns, his back to the Ladies and holds his sword aloft to help fend off any fell beasts that chance his way...his book of poems seeming of very little use here...though an idea seems to flash across his face as if a torch being struck...  Vollonwe's face, feral at the pain and rage, spits at the vast Thing before him, regardless of his wounds, the tatters he wears, or indeed any other danger. The arrows of the yrch whistle past as Vollonwe laughs at her, "Aye, Bat, craven you be and craven shall I prove thee!" And launches himself at her, slashing at the mighty undercarriage above his head, Seregros screaming as he slices the air, to drive into the Bat's hellish fur.  Vollonwe attacks Thuringwethil with his Longsword...hitting and mildly wounding her!  Lormiril stands stark still along his edge of the perimeter and suddenly finds a target within his lane of fire. He raises his Longbow and lets loose an arrow, nearly before it strikes home he has another notched and ready though his efforts are unwarrented with this case as the hapless yrch finds the wooden shaft of the now splintered arrow protruding from the front of his throat. That threat now gone, Lormiril scans for another target.  Glaurung moves forward to meet the knight as she bears down on him, But suddenly a roar comes from the worm, a sound that is shattering in its volume, it echos across the battlefield..muffling all in fron of it. The dragon lashes its head from side to side, a feathered shaft has pierced the scales on the throat of the creature. As the dragon steps to the side the lance of the Feanorian skips along the golden scales of its chest. The dragon whips its head around looking for the bowman..  As the black feathered arrows continue to rain haphazardly down from the wood on the upper banks to the west, some must surely be venomous, several heavily clad yrch, the footmen, spring out from the dense brush. Bearing curved and wicked blades that are blackened by some strange art of the forge, the orcs are quickly upon the Elves, hacking upon anything that lives. Red eyes ablaze with the lust of battle, another wave of yrch issues from the wood, seeming dauntless in the company of these greater beings of evil and malice. Leading, at the forefront of the first charge, is a large, black-skinned Orch: hideous, twisted and haggard in form. He rushes forward, heedless of any Elven-darts in his foolishness or insanity, his great curved blade raised high above his head as he speeds toward Thuringwethil and her prey.  Endelion approaches charging at full speed againt the dragon, he arrives after Alquanna tough, and just at the moment the Wyrm turns his head around looking for the one who fired it, he uses the moment, and his mount quickly finishes the way splitting him from the fire demon, and with a battle cry his lance searches for his scales.  Endelion attacks Glaurung with his Lance...hitting and mildly wounding him!  >From the south a group of riders suddenly appear. The elves, mounted on proud, tall horses, pull up at the sight of the battle that rages. At their head rides a tall elf with the insignia of the Herald of Felagund on his breast. Drawing his sword, he gives direction to those with him and begins to make his way toward the combat. He calls back over his shoulder, "Alandil, make your way to the ladies. Angredhel, to me!"  Alquanna whips her horse around with an effort. The beast rears up, eyes wide with its own fear and anticipation. She pulls up her lance from where it skittered along the golden scales and as the horse falls back down upon all four hooves she thrusts her lance into its side with a grimace.  Alquanna attacks Glaurung with her Lance...but she widely misses.  As the bowman nocks another shaft it is possible to see the glitter of the blazon on his tunic. For those who might recognize it it is the arms of the King of Nargothrond himself, Finrod Felagund. Finrod watches as the lancers attack again and he readies his arrow, waiting until they are clear of his aim before launching against the dragon once more.  Finrod launches an arrow towards Glaurung...hitting and mildly wounding him!  Taurelin raises up enough to see the path, looking along the line of fighters..the black forms mingled.. She catches a glimpse of Voll ..and the Bat that towers above him, blances a bit..but quietly sinks back into the tall grass..  Alandil does not move at first, even at the command of the Herald. Seeming to have captured the pure light of the moon beneath the hood of her cloak and the starlight within her eyes, she looks upon the horror with pain and disbelief. Her mount dances beneath her, she reaches for her weapon almost as an afterthought, and the slightest movement of her hands urges her bright red filly to an immediate gallop, skirting the action.  Glaurung roars in rage as he he catches sight of the bowman "Finrod!" The worm shouts this name...flame licking up to echo the word. As the beast begins to turn the dragon is struck again as a lance sheers through a scale, black blood runs from the wound. THe beast snarls and as he turns another shaft finds its mark. Instead of speaking the dragon roars again, the ivory teeth flashing as a stream of fire bloom skyward.  A strong steed is seen directly behind the Herald of Felagund, and Angredhel, riding strong and proud in the saddle of the beautiful beast, obeys Serridan's call, and is imediately at his side, his sword, Angrethal, already in his hand. He reigns his horse, who, at the sight of the bat creature begins to rear and snort, stamping his feet. "Yes, m'lord?" he calls, his blood already stirring with the heat of battle.  Among the pale faces of many Elves, and short figures of the Orchs, a massive wolf leaps and snaps, swipes and lunges. Dreagoth, midnight fur soaking up any light, blood dripping from his jaws. Leaping over group of Elves, dark orange eyes swirling with madness. Snapping jaws rip into a human, the head of the luckless being disappearing down the Gaur's throat. A Raucous roar rips from the Hatred's massive lungs as the beast turns to find another opponent.  Xoria steps forward from beside Vollonwe and moves to intercept the large black-skinned Orch whois charging towards Vollonwe and his opponent. Xoria makes a calculated swing and the right thigh ofthe orch to stop it's mad rush to the Bat's aid.  Xoria attacks Hulorg with her Longsword...but she narrowly misses.  Alquanna curses as the lance continues its downward motion and lodges itself in the ground. She lets go of the long weapon to unsheathe her broadsword which comes free of its scabbard with a resounding ring. As the beast roars at the previous attack and calls out the king's name Alquanna's eyes widen a bit first seeking out and then recognizing the blonde head that launched the arrows. She mutters a curse and swings at the great beast.  Alquanna attacks Glaurung with her Broadsword...but she very widely misses.  The sword slices across her shoulder, missing the wing tendons.. Thur shrieks..a rising sound, wings dropping..she waddles forwards..the jaws opening as the hed reaches forward.. a rock catches against her clawed foot..and she struggles to pull it forward, looking down..the teeth coming together in small quick clicks.. She flings her head up..  Endelion cries, and his mount retreats back, taking distance, and at another command, the dark elven mount charges against the dragon again, the dark flag in her saddle dirt with the blood of the creature already, the expression in the Noldo face that of pure rage, his lance is set into position, aiming for his mighty body again.  Endelion attacks Glaurung with his Lance...but he narrowly misses.  Narbelithil holds his ground with his feeble sword held aloft just in case it is needed. He glances over his shoulder at the Ladies he stands near and looks out over the hideous battle. He begins to sing...an odd thing on the feild of battle but sing he does as a bard of the Sinda. His voice lifts aloft and carries above the din of crashing blades. His song one of valor and strength...of hearoes and heroines. He sings to boost the moral of any friends that hear it and he sings with all his heart...  Serridan turns a tight look to Angredhel as he comes near. "Let us take some of the pressure off of these wardens. We will cleave through the center, splitting the enemy." At the shout of the dragon, the Herald's eyes blaze and he looks around, spotting the bright figure of his king. Hope and joy flash in those bright eyes at the sight of his friend and liege. He raises his sword high and lets forth a cry of recognition, "The King! Finrod is come once more!" With that cry he wades into the battle.  Lormiril draws back the curve of his bow yet again and lets loose another wooden shaft at a charging yrch...the missle thumping noisily into the beasts shield. He notches another without hesitation and looses it at the creature again seemingly muting it's resolve to close the gap much further.  Some of the women in huddled beneath the wagon look at one another, hearing the song..the sound bringing courage to them..they crowd closer together..the ironshod boots move quickly past the wagons wheels and they breath more easily for a bit.  At the scream of the wyrm, Finrod lowers his bow and takes up his shield once more. Drawing his sword he glances over at the shout of recognition from Serridan. For the briefest moment surprise and then wonder shows in his eyes, but it is quickly pushed aside by resolution as he begins to make his way toward the dragon, drawing his sword as he advances. "Yes", he shouts, "It is I, come to darken the earth with your blood."  Finrod draws Silnar, pale fire flashing along the length of its blade.  Glaurung hunches back on his rear legs. The massive claws of the beast dig deep furrows as they balance the mass of the worm. The dragon again looks down to face Alquanna and Endelion, the siler orbs that are the dragon's eyes flash with the inner fire of the spirit that lives within the monster..hot spittle rains down on the noldo as the dragon speaks "Hail Endelion! Hail Alquanna! I send ye now to Mandos..greet the unworthy Father of your vow and curse!" It seems to hear the King of Nargothrond a smile dancing in the eyes of the dragon as its head flashes down seeking to capture the female knight who faces him...  Glaurung attacks Alquanna with his Fangs...hitting and terribly wounding her!  Yrch run amok, attempting to drive the Elves and Men towards the river, but without any plan of attack or formation. Blackened blade clashes with keen elven-sword, and jagged spear with silver shield as the orcs swarm about the traveling party, testing any and all fronts of defence. Charging madly through the enmeshed front of the battle, the great hideous orch jukes past a swiping blade just in time, stepping away as Xoria's sword slices through the air with a dull whir. The single great yellow eye of Hulorg gazes upon the Elf and he laughs mockingly, "What? Does this slender elf-maid seek death in earnest, or perhaps this is some jest?" he laughs again, the sound like thousands of stones slipping into a deep pit as his eye flickers with a fey light. Lunging forward he slashes his wicked blade at the arm that holds Xoria's sword.  Hulorg attacks Xoria with his Scimitar...hitting and moderately wounding her!  The Gaur looks up sharply at a particular Battle Cry, and sees the tall figure of Serridan. Lashing out with a heavy claw to take down a short human, the massive wolf leaps towards the man and his horse, eyes blazing with fury. A growl rumbles in the Wolf's chest as he gains speed, like a black arrow. Swiping any in it's path away, with Hatred finally leaps high into the air. Serridan is directly in the great beast's path, horse and rider sideways to the Gaur. Hoping to knock the rider off the horse, the beasts jaws snap, hungry for blood as a roar rips from his throat.  Dreagoth attacks Serridan with his Fangs...hitting and moderately wounding him!  Alquanna screams long and hard as the dragon's teeth plunge through chain and flesh. Her eyes are hard as several emotions flash through her features the most obvious being pain. She holds tight to her broadsword as she is lifted into the dragon's mouth. She thrashes as best she is able at the dragon's large head, with her broadsword.  Vollonwe snarls at the Bat. "Aye, my sword proves his worth again. And will yet again, evil One!" He spins, directly under Thuringwethil and slashes at the leg nearest him, breaking out behind her as he does.  Vollonwe attacks Thuringwethil with his Longsword...but he very widely misses.  Alquanna attacks Glaurung with her Broadsword...but she very widely misses.  Alandil wheels her horse to a halt among the cowering woman and slides off in one fluid motion, landing beside Narbelithil. Her hood has fallen back off her head and her eyes are alight with the fiery battle that rages around them, sparking brillianty as she hears the voice of her King, "Have heart, mellyn," she says softly to those around her. Though she herself holds a dagger...just in case.  Xoria grunts her teeth as the blade crunches into her arm, and she spins away to the left losing the large black orc momentarily in the confusion, but when she finds him again she pounces from the left aiming this time at the orcs knees before reversing the strike and turning it into a vertical cut upward  A cry is heard trough the battle field. Endelion drops his lance and jumps out of his mount and to the ground, landing smoothly, elven steel shining upon moonglight as his sword is once again pulled out and his black shield setted into position. He risks a short glance at Alquanna and her wound before turning his gaze back to the beast, blue flames dancing wildy inside his eyes, "Darest thee to curse on Feanor?!" he seems small, almost nothing in front of the fire beast, his body half-curved as he charges and spins his sword up and to the beast scales, jumping in the air in his desperate attempt.  Endelion attacks Glaurung with his Lance...but he narrowly misses.  Narbelithil's song continues strongly! He lifts his voice with renewed zeel and incredibly, can be heard through most of the field of battle except for the farthest extremes from him. He encourages all the common troops to sing this song of battle by choosing a song that they regularly sing when working at quarters. His song is such that it is meant to rally and to lend hope and courage. The way his voice carries to most of the combatants is such that it almost seems uncanny...  Xoria attacks Hulorg with her Longsword...but she narrowly misses.  Endelion fastens a teardrop cavalry shield onto his left arm.  Finrod cries out in anger and grief as the maiden knight is ravaged by the wyrm's fangs. Charging quickly, as the other lancer attacks, in order to close the distance, he comes to face the dragon, shouting a challenge to him as he arrives. "Set aside, Wyrm! Leave the knights to another, for it is time that you and I join once more in battle! Surely we will find a conclusion to our disputes this day!" He watches and waits, hoping that the dragon will turn his attention away from the grievously injured knight.  Thuringwethil drops her head, following the elf's move..She flaps the wings heavily moving forward, jostling the elves before her as she swings about..the wings pushing aside all who surround her, turning once again to face Vollonwe. "Dart and hide? This is how you show your courage?" she taunts..the head snaking out and dancing above him..  Lormiril sends a third arrow into the slowed yrch, sending the pitiful creature to it's doom, the quill of the bolt burried deep in the humanoid's breast. He then notches yet another arrow and looks for another target. Upon hearing the distant voice raised in song, he also begins to sing...lending his voice to the power of the lyrics.  Laurendor backs and risks a glance away from the Dragon, trusting in the warriors now engaging the Golden Beast and sees the mounted Nargothrim charging. His eyes widen and his brows narrow. He runs forward, (Iathrin) "You, drover! Mount the wagon, Methinks the Bat will soon be rousted and we may make a run for it. I shall get the women in the wagons, an I may." The elf nods and stealthily mounts the drover's seat, the others farther forward doing the same. Laur then waves to the women, who fearfully approach the wagons, not boarding, but waiting for a signal.  Taurelin sees teh drover mount to the driver's seat..and reaches down..touching the shoulders of those with her..She points to the wagons..and they crouch low..moving through the grass..quickly but quietly..  Serridan's great golden charger senses the approach of the beast before his rider does and wheels to his left, turning to the oblique as the gaur leaps. It is not enough to take them from its path however, and Serridan is raked with claws across his chest. Blood stains his breast as he turns to face the wolf. His mouth setting in a grim line he urges his mount forward and swings at the shoulder of the wolf with his sword.  Serridan attacks Dreagoth with his Longsword...hitting and mildly wounding him!  Glaurung drops the knight from his great maw, bright crimson blood stains the ivory fangs and and jaws of the dragon as it turns to face the challenge "Never have I been one to deny a threat such as yourself Finrod..this day the elves lose a petty king.." the dragon's tail lashes hard against the ground, the sound is thunderous, a thunderclap could not hope to triumph in its wake. It ignores the attack of the Feanorian warrior who strives so valiantly to wound him..instead the the Golden seeks to close with the elf Lord...  Agile and quick-stepping for one so heavily and grotesquely armed, Hulorg catches the flash of a blade out of the corner of his eye as he slips back, barely avoiding the sword stroke. The smirk ne'er fades from his deathly and fey visage as he laughs again with a harsh croak, "Come now, little maid, must I devour you as well?" he sneers and mocks. Whipping his crooked sword over his own head, he brings the hilts crashing down on top of Xoria.  Hulorg attacks Xoria with his Scimitar...hitting and mildly wounding her!  Alandil takes her dagger, a shard of starlight, into her hand.  The Nargo charge breaks at the back of the Bat as the Sinda warrior continues to battle her. One swiftly dismounts, his sword in hand. He yowls the Nargothrond battle cry and charges the Bat as Vollonwe returns the Bat's taunts. "To dart is to find new ground to battle from, foul fowl. I have now a new and untouched part of you to dismember!"  Dreagoth lands to the ground hard, his claws digging into the earth to stop him from sliding further. A sharp growl is all that comes from the Gaur's mouth as it spins, ready to leap up again... and is instead met by the cold steel of Serridan's Longsword. The agile monster manages to avoid a hard blow, the weapon slicing a shallow cut in the Gaur's shoulder. A louder roar rips from the Hatred as it lunges forward, massive, bone crunching jaws seeking to snap Serridan's ankles.  Dreagoth attacks Serridan with his Fangs...hitting and mildly wounding him!  Vollonwe attacks Thuringwethil with his Longsword...but he widely misses.  Finrod nods once, resolutely. "Well then, your feelings being known, let us be about it." And with that the king steps forward, Silnar bright in his fist as he lunges at the breast of the beast. Fast as thought the king moves, seeking a quick and decisive end to this confrontation, heavy though the odds might be against it.  Finrod attacks Glaurung with his Broadsword...hitting and badly wounding him!  Alquanna moans in pain as she hits the ground. She seems to fight to rise, muttering a name as she strives to rise for more then few seconds..but loses the fight and collapses senseless, A hair pin falls from her raven hair, to lay on the ground near her. Her hand stays gripped tight around the hilt of her blade even now...  The head weaves above the elves..jaws snapping as it darts foward.. a sword arm snaps..the bone popping loudly as the jaws close. An elf screams, then shifts the sword..still facing the bat.. She draws her wings back and up as more elvees approach..her glowing eyes finding Vollonwe.. she hisses.. jaws gaping.. the wings lift high..wide..  Xoria grunts and screws her face up as the Scimitar crashes into her shoulder and blood begins to fall freely from her wounds in her shoulder and on her arm, blood begins to run down her arm and making her handle of the sword sippery, Xoria changes the sword in to her other hand and comes in for another attack, ignorning that fact that she is over matched. Xoria spins straight at the big bad black orc and aims the pommel at the end of her sword's hilt at it's face before droping down and with two hands slashing upward and rolling backward at the same time.  Xoria attacks Hulorg with her Longsword...hitting and mildly wounding him!  Narbelithil places himself between the battle and the women as much as possible, his song still pulsing strong through the ranks of the friendly troops rallying strength, courage and adrenelin in all who hear and pick up the verse. He stands his ground staunchly and unwavering and with a determined set to his brow. His voice, a clear unwavering alto echos long all around, amazing the clarity and strength it carries and the determination it affords...  Lormiril melts back into the shadows of the surrounding forest and briefly dissapears from view only to return to view at a location several yards from his previous one. He finds himself behind two yrchs that are rushing toaward the wagon where the women are preparing to board and he quickly, and eager...sends the metal tip of an arrow int to the neck of one, sending it sprawling while he notches another arrow and aims at the other charging yrch. He continues to sing that distant song that he hears echoing about the battlefield.  The Mardothrim of Nargothrond, Angredhel, follows the Herald's gaze and his eyes come to rest on his King. "The King! The King has returned!" he takes up the banter which many of the Nargothrondhrim following continue. Angredhel steers his horse behind Serridan, his sword raised as he sees the Guar attack the Herald. The horse again begins to rear, but less than when she saw the bat creature. Angrethal, Angredhel's sword, falls down in a sweeping motion, when he reaches the evil wolf, in an attempt to stop the attack on Serridan.  Angredhel attacks Dreagoth with his Longsword...but he narrowly misses.  Endelion breathes heavilly, his dark figure seems wild, filled with rage, yet jovial and noble. He looks as the Wyrm leaves him to face the King, and one could say he was about to charge once more, but then he looks back, and his eyes meets the fallen Alquanna. He hesitates for a moment, looking back at the dragon, images of his deadly breath of fire hitting him and the lady of Falathrim, for he was there, and he saw when she was turned to nothing by his flaming wrath. He howls, and finally heads back, giving up off his chase of revange and running to Alquanna, falling on his knees at her side, and carefully carrying her in his arms, with a whistle, his mount trots to his side, and he softly he places the fallen knight in her sadlle, with a whisper to the dark horse, it quickly begins to run back to the wagons and the protected ones. He gives a final glance to Alquanna and the horse, and finally gazes back the Wyrm.  A look of annoyance crosses Serridan's face as he stroke is partially avoided by the wolf. He kicks out as the beast attacks again, only to have his left ankle torn by the monster's teeth. He pulls his mount away a short distance, seeking to gain abetter position.  Glaurung shrieks in pain as the elf blade seeks his innards, black blood hisses out around the blades entry point. The dragon's silver orbs gleam with rage..that is cleary focused on the FInrod..no words come from the dragon. The maw of the beast appears choked with flame, through the parted jaws can be seen the horrid glow hell. Yet no malestrom of flame issues forth. A forleg snaps forward, talons spread wide, easily the size of a mans torso the claws looking like so many drawn blades...  Glaurung attacks Finrod with his Claws...hitting and terribly wounding him!  Vollonwe snarls as his sword bites only air but then crows as he spots the Nargothrim cavalry. (Iathrin) "Attack her, she is the only bar to our way!" Voll screams and slashes again, anything to drive the Bat up and out of the train's way.  Vollonwe attacks Thuringwethil with his Longsword...but he widely misses.  There seems to be no end of the yrch that scuttle down from the upper banks, crying with many hateful voices. Hulorg, orch-lieutenant, is caught suddenly off-guard by the quickness of Xoria and he stumbles backwards, the look of hideous glee fades quickly from his face as the elven-sword opens a small gash on the under side of his jaw. Giving no further thought to his wound, Hulorg jumps forward with his shield-arm leading, hoping to overbear his prey as he slashes wildly at her left side with his wicked blade. His eye flashes madly.  Hulorg attacks Xoria with his Scimitar...hitting and mildly wounding her!  Taurelin motions to those with her..to slip nearer the wagons. The slip closer through the grass, the cries of pain and shouts of anger beneath the Bard's song.. and slips over the side as Voll yells. "Quickly..we may have but moments.." she calls and reaches to help those with her crawl in..  Finrod's teeth bare as the claws tear through his mail and into the flesh of his shoulder. Blood runs bright against his clothing, staining it with gore. The King of Nargothrond is no common warrior however, and the wound does not finsih him. Balancing himself once more he seeks an opening as the claw draws back, attacking the breast of the dragon again, perhaps seeking the heart of the beast with his Valinorean steel.  Finrod attacks Glaurung with his Broadsword...but he very widely misses.  Recieving a mouthfull of leather, The Gaur slobbers in frustration, taking a quick step back. Sensing the approach of Angredhel from behind, a quick leap is all it takes the Gaur to move from the stroke. As the two face up, the orange eyes dance and swirl with hatred and malice. The lips of the Gaur don't move, yet a strong voice, deep and clear, fills the air around the pair of elves. " Worthy prey, you are. I shall return... I tire of the usual boring sport with Humans. I shall remember you two, yes? " Taking a step back, the Hatred of the Pack suddenly leaps into the air in a quick turn, landing to the ground with a swipe at a clump of Orch in his way. Sharp cries fill the air from the half dozen scouts as they tumble to the side, the great Wolf dodging off to find more fresh meat.  Thuringwethil keens as the horses ride down on her, flapping her wings..she lifts..the strokes long..slow.. "I shall remember, COWARD..how you fight..we shall meet again.." the words trail back as she becomes airborne..gliding barely above the heads of the combatants..rising just over the calvary..above the raised lances. Trailing her..the cloud of small bats chitter and cry..  A hoarse cry of pain escapes Alandil's lips as she watches those on the side of light struck by claws and fangs of darkness. The spirited mount that stays ever close to the elleth have rears at the sight of the fell beasts. Alandil looks to the dagger in her hand, dim and small now that the moon seems to have faded, despite the lack of clouds. In a brave, if not foolish move she takes a wide step forward, looking from one antagonist to another. Her gaze sweeps continually back to Finrod and Serridan, however."  The wardens, as one, charge the yrch positions in the woods, slashing and hacking at the enemy. Their assault clears a space from the wagons, and Laurendor motions to the women to board. He sees that a wagon three up has no drover. He runs to it and sees the headless body slumped in the seat. He climbs up beside it, taking the reins and snapping them against the horse's flanks. When he sees Dreagoth retreat, he yells "Now, drive to Nargothrond!" And the drovers, as one, lash their horses into full gallop. The train bursts into motion, driving south.  Xoria moves to spin away from the attack, but instead spins into it, taking the blade in the side, a gash appears and blood begins a slow but inevitable path down her side to the ground, Xoria ignores the pain in her side, and goes on the attack again and begins raining sword strokes down on the large black orc, from the left and the right, more wide swings than anything, but not to be taken lightly.  Xoria attacks Hulorg with her Longsword...hitting and mildly wounding him!  Narbelithil continues his song of war, never wavering in his resolve or in the resolve that the song imparts. As the women he was standing near begin to move into the wagons he proudly stolls deeper into the melee...lifting his voice as loudly as he can, which still seems uncanny the way he can be heard nearly all around. He moves through the battle seeming to make his way toward the Aran Finrod...his rallying song issuing strength and determination everywhere it is heard. A yrch blade flashes before him and cuts deeply into his chest yet his song does not waver, instead he drops his feeble weapon, for a weapon of more force, his voice. The yrch raises it's blade to strike again, but seemingly from nowhere an arrow finds it's mark and the orch falls before it can mow down the bard...  Vollonwe hears the train behind him move and Thuringwethil rise, at the same moment. He dives forward, toward the Nargothrondrim. "A mount, I need a mount!" He is lofted behind a Noldo warrior and scans the train, seeking Taurelin...  Lormiril fires his arrow into the unprotected backside of the yrch that is rushing toward the women as they head toward the wagon. He watches with grim satisfaction as the yrch clutches at the embarrassing wound and faulters. Lormiril then fires off another missle into the creatures head and watchs again with grim satisfaction as the projectile shatters againts the creature's skull and silences it's agonizing wails.  Agonizing cries echo from the Forest as the Wolf ravages and the remaining wardens emerge, running to catch a wagon. One last emerges, but is slain by a hail of arrows just as he reaches the side of the last wagon in the train.  Taur clutches the wagon side as it lurches forward..grabbing at the woman beside her to steady her. She looks towards the front of the column..the bat just rising..her eyes seek Voll.. a flash of white..her hopes rise as a horseman turns his mount..  Serridan watches as the wolf leaps away, making sure that it is not a feint before turning his attention away. He scans the field now, looking to see what remains of the enemy. His bright eyes soon find his king, standing bloodied but proud under the looming shape of the dragon. Serridan does not hesitate, urging Malaglar forward toward Finrod, for attack on the wyrm or rescue of the king is impossible to know.  Several yrch are crushed and trampled as they try to hinder the mighty steeds pulling the elven-wains, their battle-cries strangled out now in horrifying peals of agony and death. At the front line, Hulorg tries to fend off his opponent that he may have initially underestimated in his haste to draw the most blood. He deflects away many of the harrying blows with his sable shield, but one stroke lands. Ripping through the metal links on his left side, the thick black blood oozes out of the wound, adding fresh stains to the already tarnished and blackened metal. Crying out with insane rage he viciously brings his blade to bear, sweeping down at Xoria's legs.  Hulorg attacks Xoria with his Scimitar...hitting and mildly wounding her!  Carelanor, the blood bay filly, urges her mistress back into the saddle. Alandil complies, holding tight to the mane, but holds her mount back, watching as Serridan closes in upon Finrod and Glaurung. Carelanor rears a few times against some of the straggling orchs, alive with the natural fire of an elven steed, easily knocking them away.  Endelion's horse, the unconscious Alquanna astride and nodding in the saddle, bolts at the smell and fire of the Dragon, sensing the motion of the train ahead and instinctively galloping to follow. It catches the last wagon quickly and keeps on galloping, driving yrch aside in its panic.  Xoria has the satisfaction of seeing at least one of her attacks land on the big brute if only a minor one, before she too is forced to disengages and flee, but not before taking a last sweep across her legs for the brute, which almost trips her. But Xoria is able to regain her balance and sprints off to the wagons to catch the last one.  Narbelithil finally makes his way to where Aran Finrod fights the dreaded drake and there he plants himself, bleeding freely from the gash in his chest, yet he sings ceaslessly and flawlessly. He sings to the very Aran himself and all those around. He sings to lend them strength and to boost thier moral as they fight the mighty golden scale. His voice rings clear and true and his fea seems nearly to project through the song. He stands resolute, eyes closed in reverence for the verse and does not seem to heed the battle around him at all, evidenced by his useless arm dangling at his side, bloodied and broken. It is also evidenced by the battle cry behind him that he seems not to whitness, nor does he whitness the yrchan spearman bearing down on him.  Lormiril slides through the fringes of the battle...dodging here and there between the trees taking opportunistic shots at any yrch that moves, no matter the target, whether it be arm or leg or even a foot. If he sees it he sends an arrow into it...yrchs scream in agony all around him as he chooses to wound since the yrchs have the heavy mail that would protect their vitals from his arrows.  Thuringwethil rises..gliding just above the tree tops, turning back to circle the battle below. A cloud of smaller creatures rise from the trees to crowd around her..the larger form lost within them..as she strokes her wings slowly..looking down on the carnage below..the glint of gold..she shrieks a keening cry..  The arrows of the yrch continue to fall like black rain among the wagons of the Elves, as the footmen rush to harry their retreat. Bellowing, "Oh no, ye shall not escape me so easily, elf-maid!" Hulorg cries, "To me! To me, warriors of the Skull! We shall feast on elf-flesh yet!" Brandishing his wicked blade high above his head he lumbers off after his prey, hindered little by his light wounds.  The Nargothrim cavalry charge ahead, scattering yrch that attempt to head off the galloping wagons. The horsemen, Voll amid them, their blades singing in the night, drive northward to make a lane for the wagons that the yrch cannot reach. Arrows flit by and some lodge in elf and horse as the cavalry set the picket line, supporting the elves who fight on foot and may now retreat behind the equine protection.  After his battle mount has rided with Alquanna to safety, Endelion looks back and watches carefully as the Wyrm fights the elven King, he makes his way with a cold look in his blue eyes, that seems as dorment ice now, never leaving the dragon as he walks, until he reaches the flank of the battle, there he throws his sword at the ground, where it fixes and remains carved. His voice echoes strong trough the field, to be heard by the dragon and the king, "Thou hast found a challenge to engage Wyrm! I shall remain here and wait, for I am next, and I have no hurry to settle my revenge with you! For Lady Lauriel and for Lady Alquanna, my sword shall descend upon thy scales, if they survive their meeting with King Finrod!" he crosses his arms against his chest and continues to gaze the mighty battle ahead of him, with the same cold expression in his face.  Glaurung laughter erupts from the breast of the beast as its claws feel the resistance of contact with flesh. As the claws sweep away the great worm takes a step back..narrowly avoiding the renewed attack of the elven lord, A hiss and then words "Ahh want a strong foe you are, almost with my endurance..many times we have met and many times I have stood in awe of your strength. I will make no mistake this day, this day you fall Finrod.."the words drop into a intake of air..but the flames whistle by overhead, perhaps a warning to those who would aid the elf. Instead the the dragon rears slightly back and the the claws reach again to rend the at the chest of this strong foe..  Glaurung attacks Finrod with his Claws...hitting and badly wounding him!  Xoria looks over her shoulder and sees Hulorg gaining on her, Xoria curses her wounds that are slowing her down, normally she would quiet easily beat such a large creature, so she slows down more and allows Hulorg to catch up a little more, getting him in striking range Xoria suddenly dodge to he left and spins holding her blade out to slash into the upper torso of the orc trying to catch the large brute by surprise.  Xoria attacks Hulorg with her Longsword...hitting and mildly wounding him!  Narbelithil positions himself within strides of Aran Finrod and continues to lift his voice in war-song. Seeming to sing directly to the King himself, though his voice still carries over the entire field. His song of courage and of strength still coursing through the viens of any who hear. He seems to be pouring every ounce of his fea into this song of war. It is then that the spearman lunges from behind but falls short when an elven footman cleaves him from the side, dismembering one of the yrch's arms and causing it to miss the bard...  Lormiril runs toward the wagons and catches the one that seems to have the most women aboard. He quickly climbs in and takes up a defensive position in that wagon, shooting any yrch that dare to turn their attention toward the wagons. His arrows find more than one mark easily and discourages many a yrch in thier resolve to chase the wagons.  The shield is torn from the arm of the king by this next attack, gashes being opened in his arm to match the ones on his shoulder. He grimaces slightly against the pain, though he then smiles wryly at the words of Endelion. "It seems that you will have need of much endurance, beast, for even if I fall you will be harried for each day that you draw breath, until steel finds its way into your belly and the life is taken from you that was provided you by your dark and damned master." Once more the king attacks, seeking to drive his sword into the cleft where the dragon's arm meets his body.  Finrod attacks Glaurung with his Broadsword...but he very widely misses.  The Elven-sword skitters across Hulorg's upper chest, punching the small metal links into his blade hide. He gasps and cries out, a blasphemous chant dying in his throat. The arm holding his curved sword drops slightly as the large orch stumbles back. He continues gasping and clawing at his throat. The fey light of his eye disappears as the yellow orb dilates wide and fearful. Many yrch leap up past their lieutenant's side, hacking at the Elf-warden, grappling to throw her down on the ground.  Serridan urges Malaglar into a gallop as he sees the king take another heavy wound. Bearing down on the dragon, Serridan slips Aldereg back into its sheath, reaching out with both hands, apparently prepared to snatch Finrod up and pull him away from the battle with the wyrm.  As the elf strikes the dragon turns and the blade goes wide. The eyes land on Endelion briefly "Another time..Feanorian!" he looks to Finrod and the singer behind him "Take thy chorus from my sight Finrod..I leave you again to woe the day of our next meeting" The dragon showers the ground in front and behind him with flame..it rises like a great cloud..licking up around the mass of the beast as it withdraws from the battle.the flames reach as high as the curling horns of the worm..his golden scales reflect and retract the light of the flames..the image is a mix of beauty and terror..  Vollonwe sees the wagon carrying his wife approaching and, in a flying leap, blood scattering everywhere, clears the space from the horse he's on to the wagon just as it passes, sprawling in the wagon's back. He struggles to his feet, just in time to strike at an orch who has latched on, severing the thing's arms.  Taurelin reaches up..her hands clasping the leather Voll wears..trying to aid his balance..her dress and face spattered red.. her eyes dark and worried..but glad to have him near enough to touch..  As the beast moves away, Endelion screams in the musical tongue, "Aye beast! Another time! My wrath can wait!" he then grabs his own sword with hate flowing trough his expression once again, and walks to the injured king, "My King... Need any assistance?" his face still serious, but his voice sounds more soft now.  Xoria backs off screaming her defiance and slashes widly at the yrchs and scrambles towards the last of the wagons breathing deeply, blood flowing from several deep wounds.  Narbelithil stands firm next to Aran Finrod, still singing with all his heart and fea...lifting his voice to the stars and beyond, and singing to the glory of the elven warrior and the deeds of heroes!  Serridan pulls up alongside Finrod and reaches to pull him into the saddle behind him. For a long moment their eyes meet and something unspoken passes between them. Serridan smiles slightly and nods, turning his mount and riding back toward the main party.  "Aye, Elbereth!" comes the call, from the elleth, until now reluctantt to draw attention to herself. But as the beast's claws once again draw blood from her Lord, Alandil invokes the Name, holy among her people. Even in that instant it seems a few of the stars reply by shining brighter, challenging the piercing eyes of the Black beasts.  Carelanor darts away and though Alandil's cloak whips out behind her the maiden's eyes watch for the other Nargothrondim.  Lormiril continues to harrass and yrch that come near with his wickedly accurate longbow and steely barbs. He looks down at Vollonwe as he dives into the wagon and says with a wry grin, "Nice of you to join us Mellon! A fine score you've leveled against the forces of darkness this day I wager, judging from the wounds you sport!"  Vollonwe looks up from his butchery and grins, then looks down. "Arghh...how many sets of leathers shall I go through for a honeymoon trip?" And then laughs out loud, his eye catching another orch leaping for the wagon and spears it on Seregros, the sword earning his name well this day.  Lormiril notices Xoria in her wild charge to reach a wagon and aids her by sending a small shower of deadly wicked barbs into the ranks of the yrch that chase her...  As the men exchange jests..Taur leans back against the wagon seat that rises behind her. Her eyes softening, her lips curling into a gentle smile.."I hope you have one set left when we reach Nargothrond..for that dance you promised.." shaking her head..for any man who can yet jest..is sure to live through this day..for the yrch draw back .. the dragons gold no longer glints as her eyes search the path behind them..  Hulorg continues grasping at his throat, his hideously ugly and distorted face becomes even more twisted and discoloured, his breath coming in short, wracking coughs and shudders. He opens his mouth wider as if to speak, as if to order a retreat, but only a strangled squeak is forthcoming. Close to a score of the yrch still pursue the departing wagons, in vain. They appear disenheartened as the greater, more powerful spirits of the Dark flee, and are hewn down by the keen, bright swords, or fall with a dying shriek: an elven-shaft in their throats. Shaking his head and trying to catch his breath, coughing and making a harsh chortling sound, Hulorg lumbers back towards the relative safety of the shadowy wood, accompanied by what few yrch remain and have the sense to flee.  Lormiril reaches out a hand to Xoria hoping to help her into the wagon...  Narbelithil continues to hold his ground and sing for all on the battlefield...his voice seeming to reach even further now that the melee seems to be slowing...  As Serridan brings the king near the spot where he stepped from the woodline, Finrod's own mount steps through the trees, whickering softly at her master. Finrod dismounts and accepts a hand from his herald in mounting his steed. Retrieving his bow from where it lay, he begins to rally the Nargothrondhrim to him. Serridan turns his attention back to what remains of the enemy, drawing his sword once more and warding the king. His eyes scan the area carefully though, as he appears to seek something, or someone.  Laurendor snaps the reins harshly, the horse responding, the lather forming as the wagons race south, fleeing the enemy. He does not look back, but keeps his eyes on the finger of the scout in the lead wagon as he points out the path winding by the River, leading to the great Caves. His eyes narrow, but not with anger, as he visualizes what he approaches.  Xoria takes Lormiril's offered hand and allows herself to be pulled into the wagon, and slumps down breathing hard from the beating she had talken from the large black orc, finally when she catches, her breath she nods her head and simple says "my thanks Lormiril" refering to both the arrows and the hand, and mans a side to make sure no other orc's are foolish enought to make another attack.  Blood continues to wet the tunic of the king, encrusting the insignia of his rank and staining the fabric beneath. He sits straight in his saddle however, unbowed. Directing his troops into position around the travellers he nods to the captain as they begin to make their way toward home once more.  Lormiril smiles down at the maiden and laughs, "Was my pleasure good Lady. A finer use for my arrows I can not concieve of." *chuckle* he then sends another arrow into the thick hide of a yrch.  A flash of red is pulled to a quick halt as Alandil reins in Carelanor only a few strides behind her comrades. The elleth sits calmly, but her eyes, awash with relief and the remains of fear, betray her unnerved state. Her hands, one still clutching the useless dagger, tremble on the reins which make her filly do the same.  Xoria puts her longsword away and reaches for her bow following Lormiril's example and begins to pick out targets with her bow.  Serridan continues to look carefully around the tableau, till his gaze finds Alandil. Sheathing his sword, he directs his mount toward here and sidles up along side, facing her. "He cocks his head, meeting her eyes silently for a moment, before asking, "Are you alright, Alandil? Did you avoid attack?" There is concern in his voice as he senses her fear.  Finrod slides Silnar back into its scabbard, the movement elegant with practiced ease.  A dark lonely figure shealthes it's sword, and looks around, the wagons moving on their way, horses riding, people crying, fallen warriors rolling in pain over the field. Endelion stands straight, he gazes for his mount or Alquanna but finds none in the middle of the confusion and remanescents of battle. Quietly the Noldo begin to cross the battle field, looking at corpses of yrch and quende alike, splattered trough the ground. Dark blood everywhere. The smell of pain and death fills the place, his face shows a serious expression, his silver cloak flowing behind him as he walks, a survivor searching for survivors. He heads for the doriathrim wagons in silence.  Alandil takes a slow deep breath at the approach of Serridan and seems to bring her body back until the control of her mind. "I did," she replies shortly, "Though I'm afraid I also did little to aid anyone else." The usual warmth returns to her eyes as she studies the visible wounds of first Serridan, and then their King. "We should leave. You both need attention."  His horse trots at an easy pace along side his Nargothrondhrim fellows, and Angredhel breathes in deeply, slowly shaking off the heat of battle. Blood both black and red cover his armour and his hair is matted to his sweaty forehead. Angalad moves to slow the train of wagons, now that the danger has passed, and sits slightly less tensely in his seat. He turns and smiles to the driver beside him and pats him on the back, "Good driving. You have a cool head, mellon." And with that, looks forward in the direction they are heading, a strangely content smile on his lips.  Serridan nods slightly, looking at ehr for a moment longer before turning his gaze on Finrod. "He needs attention much more than I. He has been badly hurt, though he makes a brave show. I will set some to gathering the wounded and dead and then we will start back to the Halls. Keep an eye on Finrod, will you please?"  Alandil nods once to the Herald and then turns Carelanor towards the King without any noticeable outward signal. Drawing alongside his mount, she stays even, putting her dagger away so that she may help support him, should he waver.  Finrod begins to show some signs of fatigue as Serridan gives orders in preparartion to leave the area and return home. Glancing to Alandil he smiles wanly, "Ah, Alandil, it is good to see you. I am sorry that you ahd to endure such danger. I hope that you are unhurt."  Narbelithil stays standing there on the battlefield, his song slowly dwindling...he watches the host of darkness flee and finally lets his voice rest altogether. Instead of continuing along with the wagons though, he heads deeper into the field and begins looking over the fallen heroes that fought here this day. Looking for any survivors that need healing or aid in returning to the caravan...  Vollonwe takes a deep breath and only as the yrch turn tail does he stop and turn to smile at his wife. "I shall not need my leathers for such a turn as you propose, my lovely lady. And glad I am to see you so safe!" He bends and sits beside her, heedless of the many wounds he bears, simply happy in her company.  Endelion stops. He sees movement, someone walk amoung the battle field. He makes his voice echoes, strong and clear, "M'lord!" he cries toward Narbelithil, "Over here! I seek for a horse, dark of coat, and noble of features? And a Lady also? Uncounsious I am afraid! A knight of Caranthir, dressed in chain and dark!" he waits clearly ansiously, where he is.  Alandil nearly breaks down at the words from her King whom she has faithfully served for so many centuries. "My Lord Finrod!" she says to him weakly, "My body would endure the gravest danger if it meant my heart would know you were to be home soon!" Her eyes shimmer in the fading light of the night, already echoing the newcoming day, "But yes," her voice is nearly a whisper, "I am unhurt."  Narbelithil looks up as it seems he is addressed and he feebilly points back toward the caravan, though he says nothing...it appears as though his mouth moves but nothing is heard. Of course it could be difficult to tell from this distance...  Taurelin turns, her hands quickly moving across the leathers..judging quickly...she takes a deep breath, smiling..'You will heal.and tis..nothing I need worry will not keep until Narogthrond." She tilts her head, "Ahh...I shall need new a new gown, it would sound.." then frowns, her teeth biting into her lip as she looks up and sees the form of the King..the blood on his armor. She looks quickly down, "Tis that the one who they called Finrod? He is hurt..worse than you I think, M'love..he faced the dragon.. Is there aught we might offer..A gallant warrior." her eyes meeting Voll's..knowing what she wishes to do..to offer, unsure how..and..  Vollonwe looks at the regal elf Taurelin points out. He shakes his head. "I know not, wife. I have never met Felagund, only some of his wardens up by Ered Wethrin. But by the look and what I hear, it might be him."  Finrod smiles at the kind words of Alandil. Reaching out to gently squeeze her arm, he nods and says quietly, "You are faithful and true, Alandil. Would that all had a heart as fine and loyal as yours." His eyes flutter slightly and his shoulders slump slightly as the loss of blood and pain begin to wear on him. He speaks once more, quietly. "Home...it is time to return home. I need...rest."  Serridan finishes giving orders for the dispositon of the wounded and looks back toward the king. Concern passes over his face as he notes Finrod's condition. Taking a last look around, he directs the vanguard to move out, anxious to return home.  After all of the yrch have fled the area, Lormiril hops out of the wagon he is in with a smile to all therein and trots out toward the fore of the caravan to help scout...shortly after his feet touch the soil he melts into the surrounding brush and dissapears from sight.  More trepidation rests in Alandil's eyes now, perhaps, then during the battle, as she sees her liege losing strength. She takes the reins of his mount and begins both horses off at a slow even pace, leaving one arm free to steady the King if need be.  Taurelin leans nearer, whispering to Vollonwe..Then reaches up..touching the shoulder of the driver.."Please..stop a moment..I must ..get down, just for a bit."  Vollonwe nods and sets to loosely binding his shredded leathers about him, to stem the more obvious bleeding, using what he has learned watching Taurelin bind him in battles before.  Narbelithil stoops to investigate some fallen comrades and seems to dissapear from sight amidst the carnage as he finally collapses from his wound.  Taurelin slips over the side of the wagon as it slows..her eyes meet Voll's and then she is gone..running towards the horses. "A moment..I .." she calls..the words carring ..though not too loud.. She pulls up breathless..waiting for them to draw nearer..as they move along the path.  Endelion nods at Narbelithil, he seems to have understood him, and then his gaze is directed back to the mounted King, silently, and not to be seen by any, he nods. And quickly then he begins to make his way to the already far-away caravan, and to the ones he search. The feanorian almost runs in that direction, quickly disappearing from sight of the remainings over the battle field.  Alandil draws the mounts to a halt in front of Taurelin, a kind of worried impatience on her countenance, looking between the unfamiliar quendi and the injured Finrod.  Finrod looks over at the words of the lady as she approaches. Pausing, he smiles slightly and nods to her. "Yes, Lady, can I assist you? Are you wounded?"  Vollonwe watches his wife approach the King of Nargothrond with a proud smile on his face. He stops binding to pay better attention.  Taurelin drops a deep curtsy..then looks up meeting the King's eyes. "No M'lord..I..am not, but..you, I could tell from where I rode.." and gestures towards the wagon stopped a short ways away. "The injury..tis serious I fear, from how you sit.." and blushes.."I..I am sorry..I am called Taurelin, a healer of the Hall of Tauros..I wished to offer my ..aid..and the wagon..if would ride you more easily.." She drops her eyes as she finishes the words.."If..it please you.."  Laurendor slows his wagon and comes to a stop as the train pauses while something is happening behind. He cranes his neck to see a lone Sinda woman approach and address the King. He blinks but does not comment, a wry smile coming to his face.  Endelion reaches Vollonwe and the wagon, and with a smile in his lips he makes his way to the dark mount tied in it's back. He looks up at Vollowen and nods as he passes his hands over her mane, "I thank thee for taking her Vollonwe, of Doriath. But... She carried a knight... Where is she?"  Vollonwe smiles to Endelion and points to Alquanna, curled up and well-bandaged in the wagon. "I only know this lady as the one who brandished but did not attack Glaurung at Amon Rudh. Yet she has redeemed herself this day and sleeps the rest of the valiant." He looks to Endelion, his gaze quizzical, "Be she..special to you, Lord Endelion?"  Finrod smiles warmly, appreciation for the woman's kindness in his eyes. "I thank you, Taurelin of Doriath, for healing is a holy gift, given and received with joy. Though I seem greatly harmed, I am stronger than I appear. I am in no mortal danger from this, right now, and would therefore prefer to gain my halls before stopping to rest again. I have been too long away and my heart urges me forward. And it is meet that the King return home on his own steed. So let us ride together for now, and when we come to Nargothrond you will tend me there and privilege our Healers with the presence of your grace and skill."  The pale streaks of dawn appear in the east as the sun makes her way above the horizon. A new day has begun.  Heartened by the King's words, Alandil bows her head and offers his reins back to him. She holds Carelanor back enough to let the King take his rightful place at the head of the procession, though remains close enough to where she can be of aid if she is needed.  Taurelin looks up eyes widening..at his words. "I..would be most honored..Aran..to be of any aid.." and blushes, the color rising from neck to cheek.."Of course..tis but proper and fitting..you would ride through your gates. With your permission..I shall ask after your condition..when we are arrived?" and curtsies..dropping almost to the grass. "I am most homored at your kindness..do not tarry longer, please..for me..but return quickly to home and hearth..and healers."  At Vollonwe's first words Endelion nods, "Aye. She fought bravely today. As did everyone else in this battle field. I saw her fall and it was an honored one" he then risks a glance at Alquanna and smiles, but when Vollonwe goes on he chuckles, and what could be understood as embarassment, takes place in his expression, and he blushes slightly, "Special, she is Vollonwe, for she is a knight of Caranthir, and that is it. I just wanted to make sure she survived so that she can witness my oath of hunting down the beast that slayed the lady of Falas that first travelled with you. She shall be pleased." he nods and walks back going for his mount, and easily jumping over her saddle. He shakes his head and gives a last look at the wagon and Vollonwe before troting ahead.  Finrod smiles at the lady's words and nods. "Indeed, we shall both soon gaze on the wonder and glory that is Nargothrond. Let us be gone from this place." With that he turns and heads the column, moving steadily closer to home.  Vollonwe stands as the King addresses his wife and his eyes glow with pride as he honors her. He looks to Endelion, "Then we shall honor her together, for she fought bravely." He vaults to the ground behind his wife, regarding her with glowing happiness, but only witnesses, does not speak.  Taurelin stands a moment as he moves away, then turns..hurrying towards the wagon and the one who watches her. Smiling, she looks at him..then at Endelion as he rides away. "The knight? Who was he seeking..or.." and looks up at Voll, puzzled..then gestures towards the wagon.."We should be going, it grows late to reach the city in time to dance.." and laughs softly, laying her hand on his arm..