Maethyr Illuvatar

After months of waging war to thwart the insidious plans of the Angmarim, the goblins, the trolls, the wargs, and the races of men who have aligned themselves with evil, Riskin finally gets a short reprieve. A ranger headed to Bree happened to have a spare horse, and offered to take Riskin back with him for some of the "good brew of home."

"Bah!" Riskin bellowed as he considered the offer, "Your home maybe, not mine! Your brew's bread flavored water! You should come to Thorin's Hall! We have stout that will muddle your wits and grow you a thick beard like this!" Riskin flopped his ample, mostly-white beard at the Ranger. The ranger just grinned, already knowing that Riskin would be joining him....to Bree.

He stood pondering the idea of the long ride on this too-tall horse. His arse hurt just thinking about the ride. "Eh..." Riskin grabbed the reigns to the spare horse and immediately set to work trying to figure out a way to get on the animal. "Beer's better 'an water, and that's all ah've had. Here, could you make yerself useful and hold this horse still a minute?"

After an ordeal of getting saddled up, Riskin and his Ranger friend were off to Bree. A six day journey.

-Bree-

Riskin plopped down on a well-worn stool at the Prancing Pony. Barliman Butterbur, came 'round plopping a pint of Barliman's Best in front of Riskin. "Not to sound ungrateful Butterbur, but don't ya have any larger, um, pints?" No sooner had he finished this question than he finished off the last bubbly swills of his mug. Barliman just turned back to the keg and poured him another round, this time in a pitcher that the bar maids used to cart beer around to the patrons seated around the dusty bar...he knew better than to start a conversation about beer with a dwarf.

Riskin's meal had just arrived, a whole scrawny chicken and a side of just about everything that the Prancing Pony had to offer, including another pitcher of beer. Riskin's eyes were glowing as he beheld the feast in front of him. He laughed to himself out of sheer joy as he picked up the chicken and motioned it toward his mouth.

A shadow filled the doorway and several eyes turned up to see what fresh mind needed muddling on the suds. All were surprised to see a woman...a elf lady darkening the door. She was robed in black with intricate designs that seemed to be woven of purest gold. She pulled the hood away from her eyes and scanned the room, ignoring the catcalls and rude comments about her race. Her eyes settled on Riskin, who was still frozen with the chicken just a half inch from his hungry mouth. The cloaked elf approached him with such urgency that Riskin thought that he may have to throw the chicken at her to defend himself.

She placed her delicate and strong hands on his shoulder. "Did you journey here with Hannelad?"
"Aye, at least that's what I think his name is."
"Do you know where he has gone?"
"I dunno...I think he was visiting someone over at the hunting lodge on the south side of town. What's the problem Elf?"
She reached inside her belt and drew a dark-bladed dagger.
Riskin stumbled off his stool and reached from his cruelly-spiked mace, thinking that this Elf had gone mad and meant him harm. His roasted chicken went bouncing under an unused table.
"Peace, friend Dwarf! I have brought news from the East of Angmar!"
Riskin slowly took his fingers from the grip of his mace. His eyes couldn't help but divert to his chicken that now lay in a bed of dust and crumbs from uncounted patrons. He could see the grit clinging to it's juicy meat. He had a mind to pull the mace again and at least take one good swing at her.
"What's this got to do with me, Elf?"
"Hannelad once served on a scouting band that stationed just outside Carn Dum."
Many hushed whispers from nearby tables echoed the wicked name. The rest of the bar was now engaged in all manner of rumors and tales all centered on the subject of Carn Dum.
"I need him to look at this blade to confirm, or with any hope, deny our worst suspicions. I do not have the time to ride to the Hunting Lodge to seek out Hannelad...you must deliver this blade and this message to him for me, friend Dwarf. I must go...take this to him, please! I will see you again."
With that, she was out the door, and the sound of a fast steed galloping along the cobbled streets quickly dissipated into the ample background noise.
"Bah! With any luck we'll NOT be seeing each other again!" He sat quiet for a moment. He fingered the nasty looking dagger for a moment and then set it down. He opened the message that the Elf-woman had hastily written for Hannelad. It was a simple note with little detail: "The hour is at hand. Carn Dum has awakened. We will not last long....you must come. The dagger you hold tells you all you need to know. Bring as many as will come."
Riskin picked up his chicken off the floor and once again took his seat. He blew a few flecks of dust and grime off of his chicken, and took a healthy bite. A measure of joy spread over his face. "Well," he said aloud, but too himself, "if I'm headed off to Carn Dum, I gonna need some new armor."

ALL ITEMS COMPLETED - Elven variety made for all items - List left for future reference
Mirrored Dwarf-make Knight's Leggings
Mirrored Dwarf-make Knight's Armor
Mirrored Knight's Shoulder Guards (Any Variety)
Mirrored Knight's Gloves (Any Variety)
Mirrored Knight's Boots (Any Variety)

Hardened Elven Knight's Heavy Shield

Unbeknownst to Riskin, the table over from where his chicken lay dust and grime covered, was an female elf and a female human sitting quietly watching the scene with bemused looks on their faces. The human, Gilliann, a Minstrel of some reputation across Eriador and even into Moria for her healing and battle-tactics overheard the comment made by the overly unpredictable dwarf. "Carn Dum" she muttered to herself, "that sounds like fun!". She said to her elven sister, "what do you think about journeying to Carn Dum? Maybe we just shadow the silly dwarf and make it a scouting adventure?" Her eyes had a mischievous glint in them as she dreamed of the trolls and other denizen of Carn Dum running away from her as she beat on her drum playing songs of misery, lament, death, and destruction. Her much younger companion, a Rune-Keeper named Tolnariel, shot her a glance of disbelief. "You REALLY want to go there? I know you are pretty handy with those drums, lute, fiddle, piano, and whatever else you fancy playing, but those monsters are probably tone deaf and won't fear your songs like you think they might. However, my rune stones could leave a few of them smoldering while you busy yourself restringing your harp!" The two of them had a laugh over that jab from the much younger and less experienced elf. However, the mood between the two of them turned quickly serious.

"I think that for the sake of all free people it is my duty to go there and fight. If this dwarf, who, by the looks of him and how quickly he got to his mace when she pulled the dagger out, might be a safe companion to travel with" Gilliann said to Tolnariel, holding her stare for a few seconds then looking away towards the dwarf. She started to get up when she felt Tolnariel's hand touch her shoulder. "If you intend to go into Carn Dum and fight with a dwarf, the likes of him" Tolnariel started while pulling what appeared to be a piece of table cloth out from under her plate, "at least take him this towel to wipe the chicken parts from his mouth and beard!" She broke out into a grin. Then she added, "If you are going into battle with him, then he needs to be outfitted in the finest armor he can wear!" Tolnariel pulled out a little notebook and started thumbing thru the pages at a very fast pace. Gilliann watched her transfixed and then gave a little yelp when Tolnariel stopped suddenly and exclaimed quite loudly, "I've GOT those recipes!" Gilliann, knowing that Tolnariel had worked her crafting skill to be the best in Eriador, surpassing many of her former teachers in ability and gaining her fame in the craft halls instead of for killing enemies of the crown, knew that if she took on the task, the pieces would be the finest ever crafted. Elves, though not known for heavy armor crafting per se, are able to craft some of the finest items known throughout the land. Tolnariel has mastered working the metals for armor and shields. Nothing gets her attention like a strong, muscular elf in a finely made suit of armor.

The two ladies walked over to the greasy bearded dwarf. Gilliann pulled out the towel handed to her by Tolnariel and threw it over Riskin's shoulder. "Here Dwarf! When you're finished stuffing your face with beer and chicken parts, I would like to join you in Carn Dum if additional adventurers would be welcome on this trip." Riskin, startled at the approach of another woman in less then 10 minutes, fell off his stool but managed to spill only the smallest drop of beer from his foaming mug. He rose to his feet, noticing for the first time that 2 ladies stood behind him, one an elf, and the other a human. He paused a second trying to determine which one spoke to him. After a brief look, though, he realized that the elf was much too young and the armor she wore was not battle-ready enough to make such a claim as to journey into Carn Dum, he changed his gaze to the human. She looked down on him, being a full 3 troll-hands taller then him, and giggled. "My name is Gilliann" she began, but he knew her Auburn hair and her name before she even spoke it. Now that she was closer to him, she noticed something about him that she hadn't before. "You're Riskin of White-Mountain! I have heard of your battle prowess but thought they were only a fable. However, the mace had always been described in great detail, and the wielder of it as one who stares up at the enemy for only as long as it takes to bash their chests in. I've heard it told that when you fell them, you usually walk across their chest and look down on them to let them know they were bested by one so small." With that, she laughed, and Tolnariel joined in with her. "I would be honored to join you if you need a healer!"

Before Riskin could answer, Tolnariel added, "And if you're going to be taking my sister with you to Carn Dum, and she has to keep you alive while you keep the enemies eyes on you, then you will need the finest armor made. I would be honored to make the armor for you, providing you protect Gilliann!"

ARMOR REQUEST ACCEPTED - Tolnariel

Seven days had passed with Riskin still stuffing his face at the Prancing Pony. The dwarf, almost a full leggings size larger in the waist from ale and chicken, was seated happily at the bar challenging anyone who entered to a game of axe toss.

The door to the Prancing Pony opened with a very beleaguered Elf drenched in sweat and soot, carrying a smithing hammer. Riskin, noticing the sudden infusion of sunlight into the otherwise dimly lit bar, turned to regard the newcomer. Suddenly, he jumped from his stool and ran, mouth agape, to Tolnariel who had barely entered the doorway. "Does ye have my armor, Elf?" Riskin bellowed excitedly. Tolnariel, brushing her sweat and soot caked hair back from her face said, "I've completed your armor." Riskin tossed her an Guardians Promise Acorn and said, "when you have assembled all of the pieces in one location, recall me to yer location and I'll give ye full payment." Tolnariel, staring at the silly acorn in her hand, looked back at Riskin. Then she motioned to the horse and cart at the bottom of the stairs in front of the Prancing Pony. "There it is. I completed the last piece an hour ago so it might still be warm to the touch. I thought it best that you get it all now with no back and forth travel as i assumed you will be leaving for Carn Dum within the hour. That, and the fact it's been in the cart and soaking up the sun probably has all of the pieces a bit hot, but you're a dwarf and probably aren't even listening."

Riskin leapt past her not having heard a word she said after she motioned to the cart. He went bouncing down the stairs and had begun to remove his current armor. Any onlooker would have thought the dwarf a bit mad. Seeing the dwarf undressing, running down the stairs with a stream of drool running down his beard, and a very large axe strapped to his back made several potential diners to the Prancing Pony change their mind and walk away. Riskin hopped into the back of the cart and finished removing the last of his armor pieces.

Tolnariel, watching the dwarf with a bemused smile, used the Guardian's Promise acorn. Riskin suddenly appeared on the top of the stairs, wearing only a shocked expression. He looked up at Tolnariel to see that she was crying she was laughing so hard. Riskin shocked expression turned to one of anger and he stomped back down the stairs and hopped into the cart again, and began to dress. When he emerged, he was clad in the finest looking set of armor, his anger somewhat abated. "I'll not make ye pay for that little fun at me expense, Elf, as this here is the finest armor I've set me eyes upon. I think ye must have some Dwarven blood in ye to have worked the metal so precisely." With a sudden wicked grin on his face, Riskin hopped down and said, "Now, where's yer sisterGilliann? We have some cleaning to do in Carn Dum and a certain elf lady to throw a few dark-bladed daggers at."

Crafting complete