Upon the shores of the sea sits a building that looks lonely and weatherbeaten. But, in truth, inside lies the history of the Mithril Knights along with many reminders of the rich history of this Guild. Those that have petitioned to join the Guild have been summoned to this remote place in order that they might swear their allegiance and take the Oath that has lived through the Ages of Middle Earth...

Freahelm rode slowly as the sun's golden rays beat down upon him. He stopped atop a small hill, and beheld the sea for the first time. The heavy surf beat upon the shore, the sound rising and falling with the movement of the waves. He let his eyes drift to the horizon, and the sea continued on, the same wet mass, stretching beyond his powers of sight. He shook himself, and nudged Blanca, his horse, into a slow trot. "Such places are not for you or I, Blanca. Give me firm ground underfoot, and a sturdy steed to carry me - I will not trust myself to the fickle moods of the sea."

He trotted along the sand at the edge of the ocean, churning the earth in his wake. He rounded the point and saw his destination. He frowned, for it was not the great and glorious palace he had led himself to expect. Nay, it was old, and worn. "But then, is it not fitting, Blanca? A warrior, veteran of many battles, never looks so clean and handsome as an untested youth."

Blanca picked up his pace, and soon they were at the front of the building. Freahelm rapped boldly upon the great oaken doors of the entrance.

The door screeched open to reveal a dark wooden room inside. There was a fire burning, a table with fruit and breads, and a few lanterns of Elven making lighting the room.

So peaceful and cosy. The smell of stewed rabbit scented the air. Reminents of silver lay on a chest to the right and carcus's of white winged sea birds hung from the ceiling. Every wall displayed reminders of the battles these gallant Knights fought in.....

Idril was riding for the coast even though she had not been there. She could smell the seasalt on the air and knew that she was getting closer to her destination. She spots the building that was described to her and she pats Thalion and whispers to him that they are almost there.

Once there, she dismounts and sets Thalion free to wander in the green fields nearby, grazing as he pleases. She walks to the door and knocks and the doors are opened to her. She passes the great oak doors and sees inside the table ladened with food and a fire burning. She nods to Elbren and grabbing an apple goes to the fire to warm herself awaiting the ceremony that will soon take place here in this magnificant old building.

The Black Knight slowly lifted the visor of his helm, gazing at the ancient fortress with an expressionless face. Beyond the keep, the sea raged, waging its endless battle with the earth, while gulls circled above the surf, their piercing cries mingling with the crash of the waves upon the lonely shore.

The time had come at last, the summons received. He alone had come, for of his peers that followed the path of darkness, only he could claim any right or kinship with those that would gather here today.

He had passed one riderless steed upon the fields, and as he rode up to the gates, he saw another horse tied to a hitching post. So, at least two of the others had already arrived. He wondered briefly if their host waited within.

Dismounting, the Black Knight tied the reins of Džralkar, a fine and strong black warhorse, to the post and walked up to the great doors. He raised one mailed fist and struck the oak door twice. Soundlessly, the door swung open, and the Black Knight proceeded within, taking notice of those inside.

Helazzar made his way along the little used path as it rose to meet a stony coast line, the track bent to the east and he made his way to the old outpost and tied his horse up with Blanca and Džralkar. . The sea sang a sweet and deadly song in his ears, Helazzar knocked twice on the door and entered the room as the great door swung open and closed behind him with out effort or sound as Helazzar to made his way to a poorly lit corner, he made no eye contact with anyone, yet he took in the features of every person and object in the room. Helazzar sat in the corner and closed his eyes and fine tuned his other sense such as hearing and smelling to name a few, moments later he knew the sent and breathing pattern and distance of everyone in the room... Helazzar smiled to himself

Meneltarma rode on her horse,Silvermane,towards the appointed place,wondering what she would find there.She looked at the sea,and there was a look of peace in her face,for her mother had been of Dol Amroth,and there was elven blood in her veins.She made her way to the building chosen for the oath swearing,and pushed open the door...

Elemmire's small boat ground against the shore at the foot of a hill. At the top of the hill was a lonely house, worn, yet with a look about it that said it would stand for a long time yet to come. She removed her shoes and stepped into the water, pulling the boat farther onto the shore and tying it to a small, gnarled tree. Stiff from hours spent on the sea, she stretched, then began walking up the hill.

Elbren stood and welcomed the arrivals, "Welcome to the first Guild House of the Mithril Knights, thank you for journeying here to take the Initiation journey. If you will proceed through the double doors at the South end of the Hall, once you have been fed and warmed by the fire, you will find a room where you can store your gear and clothing. Your horses will be tended to by our stablemaster, so worry not of them. Eat well, though, ere you leave the Hall, for after this meal, we will fast for three days."

**The room through the double doors is beautifully carved in dark wood with one wall completely covered in a mural of both paints and carved wood depicting a battle against what looks like Melkor in the North. Each of you will find a wooden trunk with your name carved upon it in this room for gear storage**

As Jasera rode over the rise and caught a glimpse of the see a smile played across her features. She always loved visiting the sea and this was to be a particularly pleasant visit. The smell of the salt, the sound of the waves, she had forgotten how wonderful it all was. It had been too long indeed, and now she was returning to join the Mithril Knights. How exciting.

After dismounting and tethering her steed, she walked up to the door and knocked gently. The door opened and she saw the room beyond. It was spectacular.

Aglanor walked along the beach. The sun was already fading behind the horizon. A soft wind played with his hair and cloak. His sword was by his side.

In the distance Aglanor saw a building atop of a cliff. That is the place of my dreams. That's where I must go. He started walking around the cliff to find a way up. After walking another hour he finally came at a gate. It was open. Inside there were about half a dozen horses. A stablemaster was attending to them. Aglanor did not waste time. He walked the stairs and came into a room.

It was beautiful.

Already a large crowd was there eating and drinking. When hearing of the activities for the next few days, Aglanor started eating as much as everyone else, now and then shaking hands with the strangers to familiarize himself with every other called to this destiny.

I bowed to the Elf, in response. I had not yet touched the food, for I had been engaged in closely observing the intricate workings on the wood. It was exceedingly fine, even by the standards of the Riddermark, and we take great pride in our skill with wood.

But now I stepped to the table, and carefully sampled a piece of fruit. For some time I ate in silence, until I had consumed my fill. I glanced about at the others, who were still eating. Silence reigned, at first, and when it was broken it was only by soft speech. I knew all felt, as I did, the solemnity of the ages that weighed upon this place. But slowly the coversation grew, and others entered. I greeted each with warmth, but otherwise kept to myself. I thought briefly of Blanca, but then relaxed. The Elf had said the horses would be well cared for, and I have not yet known an Elf to break his word, nor give it lightly.

The Elf rose again, calling for silence, and said,

"At dawn, after you have rested this night, we will meet here again and begin the ceremony. It will be necessary that you eat no more after midnight and that you leave all weapons and metal in the trunks provided for you in the Inner Hall. I am going to the meditation chamber, which you will all visit in the morning with me; until then, I bed you all a good night...and," he added with a strange smile, "I wish you good journeying."

I turned to the great doors at the south, and walked toward them. I placed my hand upon the firm wood and looked for a handle, but found none. I put my wieght against one and pushed, and it silently swung inward.

I walked into the center of the room beyond, and turned in a slow circle, drinking in the sight. Then I walked slowly to the wall with the mural, and a slow breath of wonder escaped me. I know not how long I walked up and down the wall, feasting upon the sight. Again and again I came to a certain panel, where men with golden hair battled furiously against great hordes of enemies. Golden hair...the hair of my fathers, and myself. The hair of Eorl, and all my ancestors as far back as our tales went. Were these my ancestors, that fought in the wars against the Dark Lord of ages long ago?

At long last, I turned and strode to the trunk that bore my name. It opened easily, and within lay a garment of a silver sheen. I touched the fabric with my fingers softly, marvelling at its smoothness and intricacy. I removed it, and lay it aside. I took off my things, and lay them carefully in the trunk, and donned the garment. Then I raised my eyes to see a servant, standing at a doorway I had not seen before.

As I walked to him, he turned and went throught the doorway. I followed.

Elbren called for quiet in the Hall, standing near the fire in a tunic of silver that shone like the moon and starlight together.

"At dawn, after you have rested this night, we will meet here again and begin the ceremony. It will be necessary that you eat no more after midnight and that you leave all weapons and metal in the trunks provided for you in the Inner Hall. I am going to the meditation chamber, which you will all visit in the morning with me; until then, I bid you all a good night...and," he added with a strange smile, "I wish you good journeying."

**The foods have been spiced with an herb that will induce very lucid dreams, not quite a "vision" inducing herb or hallucinogenic, but something that will open your senses to the elements and the energies in the house**

Idril was quite full and the announcement of the ajoining room had her curiousity up. So soon after Elbren's announcement, she rose and silently walked through the double doors and into the room that was described to them. She was very taken with the mural and she stood looking at it for some time almost as if she remembered the battle herself. That was of course impossible but it was a great battle and the peoples were so familiar to her.

Suddenly she remembered that she must stow her weapons and things away and she reluctantly turned away from the mural and looked for the promised trunk. She easily opened the beautiful lid and it had a silver robe likened to Elbren's. She took it out and started wtih placing her sword in its scabbard and then at the bottom of the trunk. This gave her an odd feeling of vulnerability, even or especially here. She did not understand the feeling and she thought on it as she placed her other weapons, mail and clothing in the trunk and donned the beautiful garb provided for her. She wondered about her hair for a moment and decided that she must keep it braided and tethered.

So with that decision she closed the trunk and turned finger combing her hair, looking again at the mural as she started to braid her hair. About the time she was done, she turned and noticed a servant had appeared. She walked to him and he turned so she followed him to her sleeping chambers for the night.

Aglanor laid down on the bed. His sword and chainmail were now lying in the trunk that was appointed to him. The bed was soft, with beautiful silk sheets and soft cushions. But Aglanor did not prefer sheets and cushions. So he threw them off and laid on the bare matras.

He watched around the room. The beautiful and intricate wall paintings reminded him of the Elven caves in Mirkwood forest. The chandelair that hung from the ceiling was a sight to behold in itself. This all has to be made by elves.

Very soon he was of to sleep, and his rest was peaceful....

Helazzar ate what he thought would be needed to sustain him for the next three days. Helazzar did not speak to anyone but kept a close eye on Freahelm. Sometime later Helazzar also made his way down the south passage, until he came to apart of the tapestry that had a great Elf lord in battle with a Balrog on some distant mountain peaks, if only such great foe's as the balrogs still remained in ME... who knows, maybe they do? For sometime Helazzar marveled at the fair picture and then having his fill, he made his way to the chest that bore his name, he checked the hallway, there was nobody to be seen, Helazzar removed his armor and swords as well as his many hidden weapons. He removed from the chest a black robe with silver trim; it was a perfect fit. A short time later Helazzar found a stately room in which he found a bed to sleep upon, and he did so.

****They were there again, the Elf lord "Glorfindel" and the great Balrog, the battle was played out as if he were there upon Cirith Thoroath with them "Helazzar, you are the son of my people and of mortal man, in you is the even temper of both and there weaknesses, great deeds lay before you and even greater foe's, but you are of my blood and my courage and you shall not fail.... As I did" and with that Glorfindel fell to his death, and the great beast which is the Balrog laughed and was consumed with fire and was gone****

The finely carved chest with Elemmire's name on it was beneath a portion of the mural depicting a fiery battle. In the distance mountains shone harsh against the blue sky. In the foreground flames and Elves were whipped with a bitter wind. Only those fleeing on horses could outrun the searing blaze.

Elemmire turned her eyes to the trunk in front of her and opened it. Inside lay a simple garment of silver and white. She quickly donned it and laid her weapons and traveling clothes in the chest. With a last glance at the painting she turned and exited the hall.

Elbren left the meditation chamber where he had prepared each darkened nook for the morning's Initiation; he lit the incense and placed the proper herbs upon the fire until a misty fog veiled the room in gray.

He walked out, locking the doors, and then moved soundlessly to the front double doors. He opened them and looked from the sea to the plains, awaiting to see if the others would come...for soon, he must lock the doors to all but those who would enter the place from which they would never be the same...

Arriving late, Tempest entered through the large oak doors as a gentle rain began to fall. The room inside was dimly lit, but the tables were laid full with food, the delicious aromas meeting her senses and drawing her further inside.

She wrung out her hair by the door, trying hard not to drip too much water on the dark wooden floors. Her hands were icy from the long trip and she held them next to the fire. Her features were softened in the warm glow and she rubbed her hands together as she eyed the food. She picked up a piece of fruit and held it under her nose, breathing in the sweetness. Then, with a quick movement, she unsheathed her sword and tossed the fruit into the air, slicing it neatly in twain.

She smiled with satisfaction, but then sat down tiredly. She wondered if Elbren was still around to show her to a room.

In his room now, the Black Knight stared intently at the mural upon the wall. Painted in masterful strokes of red and black, mingled with green and white, the scene depicted was that of the Fall of Gondolin, as the armies of the Dark Lord washed upon the high walls of Turgon's city like mighty waves against a crumbling cliff. Closing his eyes momentarily, he could almost hear the cries of the dying once again, the creaking of the engines of war, and the roaring fire of the dragons. A wistful smile played about his usually grim lips. What a glorious battle it had been!

Removing his suit of armour and helm, he carefully placed the accoutrements of war inside the chest with the plaque that bore no name, for not even his host knew what his true identity was. He then did likewise with his great mace and black shield, then closed the lid and dressed himself in the dark robe provided for him. Wondering what dreams the night would bring this time, the Black Knight lay down upon the bed and waited for sleep to claim him.

The message arrived in secret with cryptic words and ancient script. Long had she been on the road to the sea. She could smell it now, it's clear crisp salty smell moved across her face with the breeze. She sighed and breathed deeply, this place had a sense of home about it, if ever there could be one. As if in a whisper that surrounded here, rain began to fall. First lightly then heavily down upon her.

She had ridden far and both she and her horse were tired. He was great war horse of the North, tall and black with a long thick mane and a tail that swept the ground behind him. His bridle was black and silver, scrolled by the hand of the tanner of Edoras. Across his chest he bore the coat of arms of the Northern Kingdom of Arthedain. His rider, a woman, was dressed plainly in black with light silver mail and the mark of the King on her breast. Around her was a black hooded cloak and at her back the sword, M˜ralach. Jaxon urged Bydand into a faster trot, the rain was not letting up.

The final stretch of road that wound to the weather worn building seemed longer than it first appeard. Finally she reached it, from the outside it appeared as empty and in darkness. She began to wonder if this was the right place.

She dismounted, stroking her horse, Bydand's, neck and looking for a reasonbly dry place to tie him. Just then, a young man appeared, as if from the rock walls themselves, bowed low and took the reins from her and motioned to the great oak doors. She pushed them open and walked through. Inside was quiet, the smell of a wood fire burning met her senses. She was glad to be out of the rain. She could see the warm flickering glow of the fire in a room ahead of her. Reaching the room, she stood in the doorway. She first was in awe at the rustic beauty of the place. The great chests, the murals, there was so much to look at. She pulled back the dark hood of her cloak, there was only one other person in the room. A woman near the fire, sat eating.

"Good." she thought, judging by the other woman's wet hair, "I'm not the only one who is late." She took a seat near the fire, and nodded to the woman sitting there.

Jasera nodded to the woman who had just walked in and continued eating. When she had finished she stood and walked over to the newcomer.

Hello, my name is Jasera. You may have my seat by the fire if you wish, I'm going to get some rest before tomorrow. We each have a trunk in the next room where we are to put all of our belongings. Farewell until the morning.

She then walked into the adjoining room and quickly located her trunk. After stowing her weapons and donning the silver robe she found there, she studied the mural for a few moments and then went and found her bed.

Orodreth111 was weary,many times in the past he had recieved the summons and each time he had declined to answer. But something was different this time. Ages past his people had learned the folly of participating in the politics of middle-earth. Yea, his family had paid dearly for it's involvement. But something was different this time, there was a sense of urgency in the summons that could not be denied; and so , he had come. As he wound his way up the lower ramparts he observed some markings upon the weather-beaten masonry work that reminded him faintly of the beautful dwarven craftsmanship in the halls of Nargothrond back in his early youth. He smiled wistfully as he made his way to the great doors marking the entrance to this intriguing castle..........

Elbren strode into the Fire Hall, nodded to the two ladies there, with an especial, knowing grin for Tempest, and then stopped at the huge double doors. He opened them, peered out into the darkness of the deep night, waited a moment, and then shut them again.

He drew a key from around his neck, and locked them with a loud, audible click. It even sounded like the doors whispered something as a light breeze blew through the room and then a silence descended.

He then turned and walked over to where Tempest and Jaxon were sitting and made himself comfortable by the fire. No one spoke at first, though he could tell that their curiousity was peaked.

"I could tell you what to expect, but then I would be a liar, and," he grinned, "I would lose my Guild status and, most likely, be killed by an elder member." He stood, "I'll see you in a few hours."

For dawn was not far off...

**All through the night, distant sounds of battle horns, horses' screams, sword upon sword, the twang of bows, the scream of dragons, the dreadful cries of horrid, nameless things...the distinct clanging of metal gates resounds through the house and the hills surrounding it, leaving the Guild invitees wondering if the House is enchanted in some way**

Orodreth saw a gleam of light coming from the gigantic door that quickly disappeared followed by an authorative click.He quickly scrambled up the remaining steps to the great entrancway. Grasping the ornate knocker he paused. Was it truly time for a prince of the Noldor to again partake in the affairs of the world? What kind of reception would he recieve.Years spent wandering the wilds alone had made him introspective. He knew that there would quite possibly be ancient enemies drawn to the Guild hall for initiation and he wondered how he would feel meeting them on neutral ground."Ah well",he thought, " it will at least be interesting". Mastering his resolve he knocked loudly. A moment passed before the great doors shuddered open revealing a great but darkened hall, the embers from a fire casting eary shadows amongst the tapestries and arms displayed throughout. Looking down he spied an ancient dwarf who peered warily back up at him." Do you answer the summons my lord?" croaked the wizened dwarf."I do", responded Orodreth, shuddering alittle as a strong breeze blew in through the open doors." come in, come in, quickly before this wind becomes the death of you and me!" cried the dwarf, as he quickly slammed the doors shut." The others have all retired for the evening, but I think I can find you a warm bed somewhere in this place. Please, follow me." Orodreth said nothing, but followed the old creature up the winding stairs and down a long hallway to a small butcozy room, a bed turned down and a small fire crackling merrily." Will you be needing anything else before I retire , m'lord?" Asked the old dwarf. " No, this will suffice nicely."replied Orodreth. The door shut and Orodreth cast himself down upon the bed and was soon in an Elven slumber..........

Even before sleep fully enveloped her, Elemmire could hear the cries of friends and enemies alike, though what they said she could not make out. The crackle of flames grew nearer as as she slipped deeper into her dreams, and she could almost taste the acrid smoke.

She had fallen into a deep sleep and dream. A nightmare of sorts and she lay tossing and turning. She was uneasy as the dream was more around an ancient battle. Suddenly she saw her sword but could not make out whom it was that wielded the sword. There were many different groups of people around her fighting; there were elves, dwarves, and men. They all seemed to be fighting the battle against a great blackness. She could only make out what she deemed were the fighters for good and the black ?shadows? were faceless wisps of smoke that they were unable to catch or kill. They would disapate when struck and then re-emerge suddenly behind their foe or to the side.

She focused on the sword. It was her sword, the one that she carried, Silmar. She knew it was one and the same because of the many jewels upon the hilt of silver, and the intricate carvings upon the shard where it connected to the hilt. It was a massive sword whose blade was an unassuming dark grey and when struck, a bright flash of white light would be seen, sometimes blinding its foe.

Suddenly in her dream, it was used and it was used against one of its masters kindred! The elf fell to the great blade and it shown with a white hot light. Silmar?s master had gone mad! The battle rages all around the one holding it and yet, he does not fight now. He bends and looks to be yelling at the fallen elf. He grabs him, jerking him up and then drops him as he lay dying. The dying elf reaches up as in friendship and trust, only to take his last breath and die in a pool of his own blood. The battle has veered off in the distance by the time the warrior stands up and looks for another to fight. Finding himself standing off from the battle he turns, leaving the battle behind him.

She awakens with a scream, finding herself standing up and ready as if to fight an unseen enemy. It takes her a few moments to realize where she is and what she is here to find out and do. It was the same dream that she had been having for some time. And each time it left her wondering about Silmar?s master in the dream. Was it her? Was it her father? Was it another? Why did the master of Silmar kill one of his own kind? She must find the answer to this question before she left here. And no matter what, she hoped that buy her own deeds, she could somehow 'redeem' her sword and herself.

The morning lite had yet to rise as she kneels next to her bed and tries to remember what face she saw in her dream as he always eludes her. She will sleep no more this night.

Elbren stood in his silver robes, lighting the candles in the meditation chamber as the incense layered the room in misty gray. He had the oils prepared on the tray, each one meticulously infused with the ancient recipes. He looked up to see the massive mural that surrounded all four walls...

The Invitees would face first the East wall where the battle of Dagor-nuin-Giliath was portrayed. His keen, grey eyes traveled the length of the painting, noting the intense life-like expressions of the paints. He shook his head; it was still impressive, even after seeing it so many times.

In the top left corner was the arrival of Feanor, his sons, and the Exiles with them, landing in the waste of Lammoth, the Great Echo, at the shores of the Firth of Drengist. They all had their mouths open and their fists raised as they screamed a mighty challenge to Morgoth that they had arrived.

Farther up, near the dark mountains, were orcs, Balrogs, and other dark creatures that were clearly listening in bewilderment and then anger. Elbren winced a bit as he fancied hearing the growls and foul language of the dark creatures, but then, he knew the murals contained life and energies of their own.

His eyes continued along the colors until he then focused upon the Exiles as they traveled the Firth into the land of Hithlum, and then finally to the long lake of Mithrim.

Elbren's heart stopped and his mouth went dry as he looked up to see the hosts of Morgoth moving at an unnaturally rapid pace through the passes of Ered Wethrin and then falling upon Feanor's people, completely caught off guard, with no defenses built or permanent dwelling yet raised.

But the Noldor were mighty and filled with the spirit of Exile that had led them back to Beleriand. The orcs actually fled from them, defeated and baffled at the incredible energy coming forth from the Exiles. Then there was the figure of Celegorm, pointing and drawing his sword, as more orcs joined the fleeing host. It was no matter; Celegorm's band fell upon them and left them in mounds of death. Ten days the battle lasted. A handful of orcs made their way sullenly back to Angband.

Morgoth was not pleased.

But then, Elbren's eyes moved near the end of the East wall mural, and there was Feanor, in his anger and white heat, pursuing the orcs alone and into certain peril. There he was, in his shining mail, his sword brandished mightily, fighting valiantly upon the Plain of Dor Daedeloth before Angband, Feanor's laughter echoed upon the iron walls before him.

Elbren's mouth went ghostly dry as Balrogs were let forth from Angband and with swift precision, surrounded Feanor, who stood alone.

Feanor never faltered nor did his pores issue the scent of fear; he fought on, determined, though he was wrapped in fire and lashed with whip again and again. Finally, though, a mightly Balrog, Gothmog, stepped forth and smote Feanor such a blow that the Elf Lord fell to his knees, dazed, and his sword fell from his hand.

His sons came then, finally, and drove off the Balrogs. But, Feanor had taken his death wound, and he knew it. They carried him from that field and tried to get him to their new home for tending, but Feanor, when they reached Ethel Sirion, he bade them stop. There he cursed Morgoth thrice and as death drew near, the veils between the spirit and mortal world began to intertwine. With anger in his heart, he was granted the foreknowledge that the Noldor would never overthrow Morgoth on their own.

He spoke to his sons of their Oath, and they kneeled next to him, swearing it again and swearing to always serve their own hearts and their own minds above anyone else's. Feanor then took one of the mightiest of talismans and gifted it to Maglor.

When he died, his spirit was so hot and full of fire that his body was consumed and turned to ash before their very eyes.

Thus ended the East wall mural.

Elbren stepped back, sweat upon his brow and his heart pounding. No matter how many times one studied the mural, its power was never lessened in any way. The power of its creator was pulsing like a Silmaril.

He then walked to the doors, opened them, and waited for the Invitees to enter and begin their dreamquest...

Aglanor was the first to enter through the doors. He had been awake ever since those terrible battle sounds appeared. They were so life-like that they reminded him of the battle he had heard about. Aglanor had never experienced war. He had been in many fights, but most of them were mano-a-mano.

He saw Elbren in long, glittering silver cloaks, while his eyes where wisdom shined clearly. Now that's a man who has been in many battles., Aglanor thought.

He then looked around the room. On each walls there were murals. Elbren stood before the east wall of the room. Aglanor looked at it carefully. Painted was a battle Aglanor had heard of. It took place in the first age. There were only vague memories of stories, but Aglanor knew something of what had happened.

What really impressed him was the perfection of the mural. It was more realistic than the dreams Aglanor had had the last night.

Aglanor looked at Elbren. He nodded his head. No words were needed. Elbren turned his head to the doors, waiting for the next to enter the room.

Orodreth111 returned from his Elven dreaming with a sense of anticipation and forboding. In the sleep of the elves many things can often be seen, yet the dreams that accompanied his slumber ahd been confusing. He had seen his grandfather Angrod, not as Orodreth recalled him,bitter and beaten,but as he had been in his youth,standing with the hosts of his great uncle Fingolfin,battered yet unbowed after having survived the trevails of the Helcaraxe. There too had been all the others of his family. Orodreth, his namesake,pensive and noble,Aunt Galadriel,clothing in tatters, with a defiant look in her eyes, and Uncle Finrod, standing at Fingolfin's side, dispensing orders for dealing with those who had been injured in the great crossing.Orodreth shook his head to clear the memories from his mind. What did all this mean? As he donned the robes that had been left for him he pondered just what the initiation would entail. As that thought entered his mind he heard the ringing of a bell from somewhere out of his chambers. Girding his blade Elgil, he proceeded out in to the hallway in search of the source of the chime.The noise grew louder as it lead him through a maze of passages before leading him to a set of doors at the end of a long hallway. The doors were engraved with many ancient runes scribed in the tongue of the Sindar.Taking a deep breath, Orodreth opened them and went inside. The chamber within was as nothing he had ever seen before. The room was surrounded on all four sides by an intricate mural that radiated immense power. In front of the wall directly in front of him stood a figure in glittering silver robes tending to a brazier filled with burning incense. another man stood gazing at the wall to his left. The robed figure tending the flame looked up as Orodreth came forward and for the first time in many a year he found himself in the presence of a being of such wisdom and power that he was taken aback. This could only be one person. " Lord Elbren, the honour is mine."said Orodreth with a sweeping bow.....

Slowly, Idril rose from beside her bed and stood. She had come to no better conclusions from the dream that seemed to haunt her. She hoped to find answers here and yet, now she doubted her wisdom in coming here. What had she been thinking?

She walked over to her basin and washed her face. Then she stood facing what she believed to be East. She kneeled and said a prayer to the Valar that she would find the answers she needed ... without breaking as her ancestor had done.

~~~~~~~~~

She was finished and composed. She stood and opened her door and walked to the main room. She smelled the incense and saw that Lord Elbren was already there and he nodded at her as she bowed. She searched his eyes for reassurance that she had made the right choice in coming as even now she doubted her own mind. She would not break ... not here among others she did not know well. But there could come a time, only time and the vision quest would tell. She took a long look at the mural that surrounded her and she stood remembering her dream. Could they be related? She wondered as she waited to begin her journey.

Elemmire knew now what she had been dreaming of: ships. Burning ships. Awake again, her mind drifted back to the ships. She had never actually seenthem burn, just a red light in the east and smoke drifting to them on an icy wind. She rose and walked to the great hall, though she knew not why.

Elbren motioned for the Initiates who had awakened and answered the summons to sit on the floor. There were comfortable rugs and furs piled throughout the room and each one took a place.

Elbren went to the brazier and took some warm oil and several sprigs of rosemary. He walked to each of them: Idril, Elemmire, Orodreth, and Aglanor, anointed their foreheads with the oil, whispering words in Quenya that could just not quite be heard, and then he handed each of them a sprig of the herb.

To each he said, "This represents the life within you and the life around you, keep it in your hand, smell its aroma, know it is in this room, and when you wish to return, it will bring you here."

He walked to another corner of the room and retrieved a large, ceramic liquid vessel and put what looked like a piece of metal into it. He walked first to Aglanor, kneeling before him, holding the metal piece, which was hollow, towards his mouth.

"You have come to answer the summons of the Ancients, Aglanor," he said, "within this room lies the future and the past...and to know one's self, one must see all aspects. Drink...and know the origins of this Order."

The metal tube was black, so an observer could not tell if the liquid was ingested or not. Yet, Elbren went to each of them that had arrived and offered them the drink.

*****This liquid works very quickly!! It's like the peyote of the Native Americans...if your character drinks it, your going to find yourself with Feanor and his band of Noldor...*****

Aglanor opened his eyes. Stars were dancing around his head and it dazed. He looked around and found himself on a battlefield. He knew this was going to happen, yet the shock of being two era's ago on a place that no longer excisted was strange, indeed.

He looked at his host and immediately knew which group he was in. The Sindarin. He was a soldier under Thingol Greycloak. He looked at his sword. Not Chaos hung by his side but another sword. A blue sword with a huge ruby shining in the hilt. An ivory scabbard held the sword on his belt. The runes on the blade said: Ithilmagor. Moonblade. He had never heard of it, but it looked good enough.

Suddenly a roar made him focus. An orc was rushing to kill him with a double edged axe. Aglanor had no intent to die. Therefor he swung his blade. It met with the axe and sparks flew in the air. He parried the Orcs' next attack and stuck Moonblade in the thick throat. Blood bubbled out and the orc fell to the ground.

Aglanor ran along with the rest of the Sindarin host towards the black mass swarming forwards. Suddenly another mass was coming from behind the black army. The Noldor. Aglanor smiled. He saw them all and moreover...he recognized them.

The liquid burned,searing a blaze into his very conciousness,Orodreth felt a brief moment of disorientation,almost akin to vertigo,a noise like the wind blasting through his ears,his mind.Clusters of stars swirled before him, through him,twinkling lights ,his body a vessel of ethereal incandesence,beautiful, timeless. Abruptly it ended,new sensations came,feeling grounded in the physical plane he opened his eyes. He stood upon a jagged path surrounded by a small well armed band of Noldorin warriors. The night was alive with the brilliant light of a myriad of constellations yet something was strange. Taking stock of his suroundings it slowly dawned upon him, there was no moon! Further up the path another group could be seen, seven figures each helping to bear a stretcher upon which lay a motionless body. Orodreth felt a tug upon his arm. He glanced around to find another warrior staring at him with a stricken look upon his face." Our lord is gravely wounded, Glindor. Celgorm has bade us to halt for a moment."

Orodreth nodded and glanced at the insignia woven onto the elve's outer tunic. It was the sign of the house of Feanor, High King of the Noldor of the First age. Realization dawned upon him. He was witnessing first hand the death of his great-uncle. Orodreth had been but a child at the end of the first age. An unknown son of an unknown son.Reared in the ancient halls of Nargothrond yet still a bunnyslipper, his name struck from the family list. His grandfather,Angrod had taken a fondness for him and had raised him into adolesence and Orodreth had learned, through Angrod, the story of his families flight from Aman,the kin-slaying, the burning of the ships at Losgar,and this, perhaps the greatest irony of the curse of Mandos,the death of Feanor so early into the quest to retrieve the Silmarils. He started walking slowly towards the seven warriors who, by this time had gently lay thier burden down. The others all followed him. As they approached one of the warriors turned and looked directly at Orodreth." We go no further, father must rest. He has bade you all to approach and make witness as to what he would say to my brothers and I."As the starlight hit the speaker's face Orodreth gasped. The speaker had been his cousin,Curufin. How different he looked from the days when he had held great sway in Nargothrond, younger,less angry.

The company made a circle around the motionless figure and dropped to one knee.Next to the bier, the seven warriors knelt by thier father. With a gasp the wounded elf raised himself up.Looking into his eyes Orodreth realized he was in the presence of a legend,Feanor mightiest of all the Noldor.

Helazzar too entered the hall of dreams. He locked eyes with the Lord Elbren but he was not impressed. Helazzar took his place with the others and Elbren took him through the ritual and the vision opened before him as in real life.

*** Helazzar stood upon a mound of slain orcs and trolls as the war rage around him and his attention was drawn to an Elf Lord shouting orders... it was Feanor, but Helazzar paid him no mind, for he was looking for another. Across a great expanse he spied his great, great grandfather Glorfindel, he was a surrounded by a great host... and Helazzar waded into the thickest part of the battle and others followed, until finally he won his way through to him. The great Elf lord smiled "there is no time to stop son of my people, the battle is hard but you can win the day, beware the voice of Feanor and Morgoth, now go son of my people... be noble as your blood is and fight with honor..." they were then pulled apart as a flood of orcs crashed upon them. Helazzar could hear Feanor with his might words once again and the seemed to him both fearful and fair, but then another voice broke through... it was that of Morgoth and they were full of dark power and made to sound full of sorrow and injury, as if this great host of the west had wronged him and he was will to forgive there trespasses... Maybe he was right?***

The battle was manifestly over. It had been wildly successful, and the orcs were scattered before them. The sons of Feanor were of a mind to stop and regroup, and so withdrew from the field, but Feanor fought foward without stopping, for he knew naught of the strength of the forces of Morgoth, and thought to overcome the dark lord and recover his jewels. Curufe was with him, desiring as always the hunt, whether it be of beasts or orcs, and several other captains also, and they went north to pursue the orcs.

Jaxon stowed her belongings, albeit grudgingly in the trunk provided. She ate and drank and then retired with thanks to those who had greeted her. She was tired and laid on the bed staring at the ceiling for some time, hoping sleep would take her soon.

The room held much artistry in its design. Carvings along the fireplace, intricately painted glassware and sculptures decorated the shelves along one wall. Murals were painted on the ceiling and around the broad stone window ledges. A fire crackled lazily on the hearth.

The paintings and carvings on the ceilings depicted ancient battles and many of the figures painted there were familiar to her. She began to wonder about their lives for a moment then she slowly drifted into a deep sleep. Visions of all whom she had met that day seemed to meet her at every turn while she dreamed and then people long lost yet not forgotten peered back smiling at her.

She felt as if she could reach out and touch their faces...but as she did they disappeared from her mind's sight. In her dreams she was walking in a long dark passage, the only light - in the faces she met. Some faces fair and some fowl. Both friend and fallen enemy greeted her. She drew her sword. She became troubled as the passage grew...each face seeming more and more full of despair and darkness, she could almost feel the pain in their faces and their cries became overwhelming. She searched for the cause and found nothing. Each step brought more and more macabre and desperate images of friends she had known and enemies she had slain. Then as soon as the visions started - all around her was dark again - except for a glowing fire in a room ahead in the passageway. She approached the room, sword already drawn and carefully moved into the archway. There in the corner was a great and smiling dragon. It's scales glimmering in the firelight of an unseen fire. The stench of sulphur filled the air as it began to laugh at her. She stood tall, her sword gleaming.

"I have been waiting for you." it said "I have always been waiting for you."

Jaxon woke with a start. She got up and moved to the basin of cold water on the dressing stand and splashed her face with it, bringing herself back to the present - coming back to the room. She raised her head and her eyes met her own in the looking glass. They were like a blue fire and she blinked the sight of them away.

"This is a strange place." she said aloud to herself. She stood for a moment staring at the figure looking back at her in the mirror, her eyes moving from her own and resting for a short moment on an ancient scar along her shield arm. She quickly turned at its sight and dressed. She would not sleep, nor dream any more this night.

As Lord Elbren came to her and bid her "Drink", she had taken the liquid offered and sat back on her knees. It burned as she swallowed but nothing seemed to happen to her. She sat there waiting but it was weird watching Lord Elbren passing to each of the other members and they seemed to be going into their vision quests without delay. She started to become worried and she started to reflect what could be happening. Why wasn't she experiencing anything as the others were doing? She tried closing her eyes for a few minutes to see if that would help.

She sat there like that for what seemed like forever. Listening to the deep breathing of the others while nothing seemed to be happening to her. She waited for some time before she decided to open her eyes to watch the others. She was going to wait until Lord Elbren was finished with the others and then speak with him quietly.

The Black Knight awoke from his uneasy slumber, his mind fogged by flitting shadows and a faintly heard wail in the dimmest reaches of his consciousness. He stood up with a start and realized that it was time.

He would be given the vision and live those terrible moments once again.

Steeling himself against what he knew was coming, the Black Knight heaved a deep sigh, rose from the bed and walked out of the chamber. Outside, in the Great Hall, the one called Elbren stood before several others, their torpid forms already in the throes of the Vision.

Silently, he knelt as he took his place among them and waited.

Helazzar heard the cry go up that the enemy had broken, he could also see that Feanor kept up the chase towards the great doors. Helazzar knew that something was not right... but what was it.

Tempest rose slowly in the morning, watching the sunlight as it filtered through the windows. Her body felt sore from traveling, but she knew she would feel better once she got moving around. She stretched and glanced at her reflection in one of the tall hall windows. She decided to pull her hair back, as she anticipated some sort of initiation that might involve fighting.

Then she made her way to where the others were waiting, her eyes examining each face and memorizing it, putting such information in the back of her mind for future use.

Elbren watched the Invitees as their minds opened and took their spirits to the Battle of Dagor nuin Giliath. His job was to monitor their bodies, make sure they were comfortable, did not thirst, and bring them back, if matters became too intense for them. So, he walked from one to the other, feeling for their breath with his hand, checking their heart rates, and offering them water by holding a mug just at their lips. Some of them drank, a purely instinctual response, and some of them were too far away to care.

Elbren then stood and walked to the brazier, using a gold covered spoon-like tool, he shoveled much of the visionquest incense into a golden bowl. The bowl had a chain that could be attached to it for carrying, and this is what Elbren did. He drew the hood of his midnight blue cloak up over his head, drawing it down in the front so that his face was in complete shadow, and then took the bowl of incense into his hands.

He walked to the middle of the East Wall mural and began to walk up and down it, swinging the golden bowl to and fro, and chanting words in a language that was as old as the stars themselves.

Some of the words reached through to the Invitees, even as far away as their spirits were, both in time and in distance.

...light of the stars will be shown to thee.....and you know that the power of the starlight can be used.....great power and strength......behold the makings of the Spirit of Fire, which resides in the stars...and the stars reside in him...and in thee....you have been chosen to witness the first giliath....BEHOLD!

Within the room, the ceiling became the starry, twilight sky of the First Age and each meditating figure began to glow with a silver aura. The middle portion of the East Wall mural, the Battle of Dagor nuin Giliath, began to move and sway as the figures came to life, battle screams and shouts emitting and echoing from it.

The hosts of Morgoth were moving at an unnaturally rapid pace through the passes of Ered Wethrin and then falling upon Feanor's people, completely caught off guard, with no defenses built or permanent dwelling yet raised.

But Feanor himself had not been idle during this time, and using his skills to work with the Starlight, he had fasioned what would later become the icon for the Guild of the Mithril Knights. Using this for the first time, the orcs actually fled from the Noldor. Defeated and baffled at the incredible energy coming forth from Feanor, the orcs went nearly mad.

For ten days, Feanor held aloft the shining object, and ten days the battle lasted. A handful of orcs made their way sullenly back to Angband.

But, having held the object for so long, Feanor was unable to control the power. He was weak in mind, spirit, and flesh, and nearly mad himself. He pursued the orcs alone and into certain peril. There he was, in his shining mail, his sword brandished mightily, fighting valiantly upon the Plain of Dor Daedeloth before Angband, his insane laughter echoing upon the iron walls before him.

Morgoth then sent his answer: Balrogs were let forth from Angband and with swift precision, surrounded Feanor, who stood alone.

But not completely alone charged he to the gates. For Adonwe, his standard-bearer was their with him, and Silthen, and not least Curufe, Feanor's cheif captain. The four elves fought long and hard.

Curufe had his doubts though. It was not the first time he doubted the deeds of the one called his lord, and it would not be the last. It was clear to him, the instant he saw the balrogs, that it had been unwise to charge the gates the way they did; clear, even, that he should have known this earlier, and attempted to dissuade him. But as he fought, he swore an oath, that as long as he lived, he would serve Feanor and his descendants, as long as they yet lived, in recompense for this failure. For this was Curufe's nature, to be a loyal servant, and never a master. The elves fought on until Silthen fell, and Adonwe near him, and only Feanor and Curufe were left.

As Elbren watched the Initiates go even more deeply into the visionquest, his attention was drawn to Idril, who seemed to be struggling with the experience. Indeed, as he walked towards her, it seemed that she was not affected by the visionquest drink at all.

He kneeled before her, speaking quietly, "M'lady, perhaps you would like to speak with me? This is a powerful consciousness-altering drink that seems to have left you...as you were before," he smiled, "the only thing that can keep your spirit lingering in this world would be a strong emotional tie...if you wish to undertake the Initiation, then we need find what is holding you here."

Jasera entered the room and gazed at the mural. The scenes in it appeared just as they had in her dream of the night before. She noticed a spot on the floor facing the mural and she took her place. Elbren was speaking to Idril and she waited patiently for him to give her the drink which would send her back to the very battle she had been dreaming about.

Idril was hesitant to speak, it seemed. Elbren asked her to sit comfortably as Jasera entered the room. He brought a cup of the visionquest drink to Jasera and bade her to drink, assuring her that he was there and would make sure she was well taken care of during the Initiation.

Just as he did, a distant horn sounded and he turned to the mural, his eyes focusing upon the scene where Feanor was dying. He saw the figure of Orodreth appear on the mural, as if by magic, and Elbren thus knew that Orodreth was now a Witness to the Giliath Londe.

"I'll be right back," he whispered to Jasera.

He walked to the Northeast corner of the Mural Room and opened a wooden cabinet with a key that hung from his belt. Drawing out a midnight blue, almost black, hooded cloak of velvet overlaid with a layer of wool, he walked back to where Orodreth was sitting, still in the trance.

The cloak looked lovely from a distance, and it was both warm and cool as needed, but when closely inspected, runes of power and Elvish script could be seen woven into the fabric in many places. On the inside of the hood was a map of the night sky.

Elbren took the cloak and laid it around the shoulders of Orodreth, who stirred slightly as it rested upon his shoulders. On the mural, Feanor was holding aloft a small phial that was filled with brilliant blue and silver light, and all around, his sons and others, were kneeling and seemed to be speaking in unison.

"I will explain more about the cloak when you fully awaken," Elbren said to Orodreth, who seemed to be coming back to the present.

On the mural, Feanor died, his body suddenly consumed in fire and only ashes were left in the litter. Maedhros took the ashes and placed them into the Phial and held it high above his head as the others drew their swords and swore their Oath.

Elbren went and got a plate of fruit and a mug of warm, mulled wine for Orodreth and placed it before the new Mithril Knight.

Then, he turned to watch the mural to see who else he would watch form within the scene...

Idril was hesitant to speak and as she watched, she witnessed Orodreth being Knighted. She was sure that now she would never belong. She bowed her head and wept silently as only through the quest would she find the answers to her deepest questions, even to her own existance.

Helazzar felt his body go through some sort of quick change and his body rose above Feanor and his standard bearer. I t was then that he noticed that his body vas transparent others had taken the same form as he. The only thing he could think of was that it was not his time to take part, but to be an observer. Feanor rushed to meet his foes.

Elbren watched the mural as the form of Helazzar appeared on the mural with a ghostly countenance. Satisfied that all was as it should be, he walked back to Idril, who was weeping silently.

He kneeled beside her, speaking in a quiet tone, "You were summoned here for a reason, M'lady, you mustn't despair. Come."

He stood, offering her his hand, which she took with some hesitation. He led her to the South wall and touched an image of a staircase near a fortress, one she did not recognise immediately.

To her amazement, a portion of the mural seemed to move and actually slide backwards, revealing a passage within.

"Go, if you will, there is one who will meet you and tell you what you need to know," Elbren said as he gestured towards the darkness.

Stepping through, unsure but eager, Idril suddenly found herself standing on a mountain path staring down into the hidden kingdom of Gondolin..

As Jasera drank the liquid Elbren offered her, she felt the sensation of floating. She thought she heard him say something but couldn't be sure. When she opened her eyes she was startled for the ground was far below her. After she realized that she wasn't falling, she found she could move by just thinking about it. Noticing a small group gathered around what appeared to be a cot she moved closer to observe what was going on.

As she started descending the mountain down into Gondolin, Idril was excited as she suddenly could tell that there were people about. She knew that her answers lie somewhere within Gondolin and she would find them.

She wiped her face and kept making her way towards the place of her forefathers.

As quickly as the vision came, thus it ended. As Feanor passed on,Orodreth felt his contact with this realm start to fade, being replaced with a feeling of wieghtlessness. The sound of a great wind cascaded through his ears and conciuosness as again he was enveloped in a myriad of stars. The wind reached a crescendo, the stars spinning through him ever faster,brilliance,pain,unbearable...beauty..fading,slower,and finally..silence.

Opening his eyes Orodreth took stock of his bearings. He had returned to the room of initiation. About him the other initiates lay upon the great rugs. Some of them lay perfectly still, while others rolled about and cried out. Upon a small table, a steaming cup of mulled wine had been prepared for him along with a tray of exotic fruits. Rising up he noticed for the first time that he had been adorned with a great cloak. So light it had been that he had not noticed it before. The texture was soft to the touch and light. But there was a detectable strength to the weave, and there was magic.

He took a sip from the goblet and noticed Lord Elbren sitting in front of the smoking brazier looking back at him with a grave look of approval. Orodreth nodded and bowed. He felt a need for some fresh air, to help him digest the magnitude of what had been revealed to him. With another look around the beautiful mural, he bowed again to Lord Elbren and exited the chamber.........

Tempest had drank of the potion from Elbren's cup, but her experience was anything but pleasant. There seemed to be darkness all around her, then flashes of red light, like flames from a great mountain. She felt as though she were everywhere, yet still standing in one place. Colors and images flashed by until she finally found herself in the midst of a great battle. Balrogs stood about her with their mighty fists raised. And in the center of their wrath, there stood an elf. Tempest covered her face with her hands. "Take me away," she whispered, knowing that death awaited him. "This is not what I wished!"

Feanor had already advanced beyond even the van of his host, and hundreds of orcs seperated him from his followers. His fey laughter could be heard ringing far off in the night.

After sinking breifly into weightlessness, Elemmire found herself standing, fighting, in the midst of the battle. Though she learned of the battle soon after it took place, no tale ever told to her had been so vivid as now. Indeed, she was living through it.

Hours passed, and she heard cries ahead of her. Slowly their foes retreated over the plains, and the battle ended. Coming through the weary ranks was a bier, and on it was Feanor. He still lived, though had been grieviously wounded by whip and flame. They bore him towards Mithrim, but it was not long before the march was halted. Elemmire heard his last words: words of hate, words of despair, words of vengance, and long remembered them.

Elbren watched as the new faces appeared upon the texture of the mural of Dagor nuin Giliath. He saw that Tempest was in some discomfort, agitated, so he went to her first. Draping the Mithril and midnight blue cloak around her shoulders, he gently drew her back to the present with a soft chant. When he felt her breathing calm and saw her face relax, he left some wine and fruit on a plate before her.

"Get some fresh air and rest when you awaken," he said to her, closing the clasp of the cloak as he said so.

He then went to Jasera who was closer to waking. Laying the cloak around her and drawing up the hood, he left her wine and fruit as well.

Elemmire was next, her hands twitching as if nervous, and her breath short and sharply intaken. He calmed her as well with the same chant, covering her with the cloak as she began to wake. He put a bit of the wine to her lips and she drank, her eyes opening slowly.

"Eat and then rest," he told her.

Helazzar's eyes were open and waiting for Elbren's approach. They seem to almost dare him to try and interrupt his meditation. He took the Mithril cloak and laid it on the floor in front of Helazzar. Kneeling, he met the gaze of the new Knight, but neither spoke a word.

"I hear thee," Elbren said.

Helazzar's eyes never wavered, "So be it."

Elbren nodded, seemingly satisfied, and left a mug of wine and fruit in his wake...

I was led to a small oak door, and through it lay a bed chamber. I entered, and slept. I know not how long I slept, only that, without warning, I felt that I was not where I thought I was.

I looked about me, and saw the sky, and then looked down, and saw a great host beneath me. I realized then I bore the shape of a great bird of carrion, and that many others like me circled above the host. I swept down, closer to the great host beneath me, and marvelled. Such a host!

Ranks upon ranks, battalions upon battalions, hordes upon hordes, great companies of orcs marched below. I could scare conceive the might of such a host - and yet I felt it was but a portion of the strength of the enemy.

I swept down over the hosts, and they were dressed in dun, and no metal gleamed from their midst. Like unto the sand they were, and indeed, it seemed as though the sands were shifting and heaving as they passed, even to the keen eye of the bird in flight. I flew ahead of them, and saw whither they were headed - great woods and valleys before a great range of mountains. And within these woods hid a host of men and elves. Fair were the elves, fair and terrible, noble in bearing, and in their eyes was wisdom. I flew along their ranks until I came unto the men beside them, and I knew these were my ancestors of whom the legends spoke.

Golden haired they were, tall and fair, and a fell light was in their eyes. I glided down and perched upon a tree, and looked over the host before me. Their faces were grim, their armor strong, and their blades keen. Then one I saw, like unto my father, as he was in my youth. Tall and fair, noble in bearing. It pierced my heart to see him there, girded for battle, but facing a host that I deemed too vast for any hope of victory. I cried aloud, saying, "Father! Here am I, thy eldest son! Dost thou not know me? O my father, go not into battle against such foes, for they are numerous beyond counting, and thou shalt surely fall."

But the only sound that I made was the harsh screech of the foul carrion bird, waiting for the armies to finish their slaughter so it might eat its fill. The battle was joined, and I took to the air, and rejoiced to see the hosts of evil swept before elves and men, slaughtered and scattered in their fury. But even in my rejoicing, great hosts issued forth from many hidden holes and doorways.

Even as hope seemed to fade, trumpets wound from the south, and a great host, some ten thousand strong, came marching into battle. A forest of spears it was, well ordered, and their armor shone like a glittering river of ice. Their broke upon the ranks of the enemy, and fought to where the forces of the west, my ancestors and the elves, were under heavy assault.

Another great host of elves, men, and dwarves issued from the east. To meet them, great and fell beasts issued forth, great and terrible, the like of which I had never seen. Wolves there were, and wolfriders, great dragons withered ranks with flame, and crushed battalions beneath them. And great beings, dark and filled with a nameless fear came forth. I thought of the great menace, Durin's Bane - they were like unto that nameless terror, or what I had heard of it, but far greater.

My heart quailed to see such a force, but valiant were the men and elves and dwarves, and they fought on, and it seemed even then, that they might win the day. But the veil of treachery was removed, and men who had sold themselves to evil fell upon their rear, and there was great slaughter.

Then the host from the east was driven off, and those in the west were assailed by thrice their number. One of the great terrors drove through the ranks of men and elves, and assailed the Elven King. Bitter was the battle, and for a time the King held against the Terror, but another cast a thong of fire about the Elven King, and he was smitten with an axe, and a white flame sprang up from his helm, and he fell.

The field was lost, but on fought the men, my ancestors. A guard they formed, and held back all the hosts arrayed against them, while the Elves escaped. The man like unto my father was with them, and he fought with valour, his sword flashing and spilling the blood of his enemies. But they could not withstand the numberless hordes, and the man like unto my father was stricken down by the Terror, and I cried out in grief. The great battle ended, and all the men were slain. The hosts departed, and I swooped down upon the bodies. I bent my scaly neck over the body of the man like my father, and saw he wore a brooch, bearing the symbol of the Guild.

Then, I looked about me, and I was in the bedchamber again. I got up, and exited the chamber and soon found my way into a room where the others were. I bowed to the elf, and took my place at the end of the line.

She came down into the town of Gondolin and was almost ignored when she entered. It was as if she was not visible to the people yet when she bumped into them, they excused her. It was strange like she was there among them as another or someone they knew. She walked into the center of the township and she saw someone that looked to be familiar so she started to follow them.

Soon they turned and asked, "What or whom do you seek?" I was taken aback and yet answered them. "I seek an audience with Turgon. I seek answers to many questions." "Follow me. I will show you the way, but whether he will give you audience, I do not know." They walked a distance and at the out skirts of the town, there was a great building. The man walked up to the guard and spoke quietly to him and then a message was sent. When he returned, a message was passed to me. "You are given leave to enter and have audience with Turgon."

I walked carefully and with honor as I felt that this was a rare thing to happen to anyone expecially one that only seemed an acquaintance. For some reason, I was not sure of whom the people saw but just that they recognized me as another of their town. I walked up the stairs and across a courtyard and through large doors. I was now inside a large building where court was held. I was bid to wait and for a moment I thought I would be turned away. Then suddenly there was a shout and someone went running by me. The guard finally bid me to approach so I did.

Once I was closer, I knelt and bowed my head. Turgon replies with "Daughter, why have thou come dressed as such? Why do you not approach me as one of my house?" Being unsure of how to answer, I stand and with head bowed I answer "I was unsure of some things and how to broach the subject with you sire." I am not sure if he means that I resemble his daughter Idril or that he recognized me as her. I wait for his response.

"You should know that you need not seek an audience with me. Come. Let us walk outside in the courtyard awhile so we may speak without the echoes of these walls." And we walk arm in arm for a bit out to the courtyard. Once there we look out towards the city and we eventually sit near a fountain under a small tree. Turgon sends the guards off so that we may speak quietly alone.

"I come to seek your counsel M'Lord. I have witnessed a great battle in many dreams and a disgraceful act of killing of ones own peoples with a sword of power. I must ask, why this haunts me? What is my path that I should have such a dream?" Turgon stands and faces away from her, looking back to a time and place he would like to not remember.

Elbren watched Tempest, Elemmire, and Helazzar exit the Mural Room, looking a bit bewildered and tired. He hoped that Tholin, the faithful Dwarven steward of this particular Guild House, would ensure that they all ate and rested...for the urgent matter in Nargothrond could not be delayed much longer.

Thinking upon this, he watched the remaining Invitees as they continued their visionquest of Feanor's death.

Until he sensed the presence of Freahelm of Rohan. Turning, Elbren smiled in greeting, truly glad and relieved to see the mighty warrior.

"Welcome, Freahelm of Rohan," Elbren said in the speech of the Rohirrim, "the Masters of our Guild have watched anxiously for your entrance."

Freahelm's eyes studied Elbren curiously, "Yes, M'lord?"

"Indeed, for we have urgent business in Nargothrond," Elbren continued, taking Freahelm's arm and walking with him to the cabinet in the corner.

He took out a Mithril cloak and draped it ceremonially around Freahelm's shoulders, "I will tell you more about the Phial ere we depart for Finrod's kingdom, in the meantime, go with the others to the outer chamber and prepare yourself for a journey."

"Nargothrond? We are...departing for...Nargothrond?" Freahelm asked with uncertainty.

"Indeed we are, and I will be going with you," Elbren nodded. "There are many things...possible," Elbren attempted to explain, "the Ages are not linear as most mortals tend to envision them. They are...neverending, mellon, circular...and though we are forbidden to alter history, we are able to save relics and sometimes permitted to bring things forward."

Elbren walked Freahelm to the massive double doors and opened them for him, "We will need to be precise and work with speed, for Glaurung is awakened and on his way to Nargothrond; we must, if necessary, delay him if our errand at the Guild House in Nargothrond runs over long. Think upon this; we will all take counsel when I observe who else shall pass this first Initiation."

Curufe aided Maedhros in carrying the body of Feanor from the field of battle. It was fortunate that the Sons should have come just when they did, thought Curufe. Feanor might yet live, and I shall live, and had they not come, both of us would be dead. But alas, it was not to be so. Feanor died and his body turned to ash, and the Sons of Feanor, along with Curufe and several other of the Nodoli present there, swore their oath. Afterwards, Celegorm took Curufe aside. They had both been part of those who follow Orome in Aman, and while not close, knew each other fairly well. Curufe agreed to serve Celegorm as his captain-at-arms, an arrangement that lasted until Celegorm left Nargothrond, and Curufe stayed there.

They sat silent in the outer hall, each reflecting on their own visions. The dwarf had come and replaced last night's food with bread, cheese, and some cold meat, and had left them to their thoughts just as promptly. Elemmire gazed at the cloak now draped around her shoulders, studying the faint yet intricate words and patterns laced in the cloth. Though she did not understand what they ment, it was plain to tell that they held a great power.

As she sat watching, Turgon's face and demeanor changed to a time past. He looked younger and yet wiser because hindsight always gave one that who had come through a great revelation. He turned slightly and then motioned for her to come to him. She rose and did as he bid her.

"I am remembering back to the time of Feanor and his anger. Do you know the history of your people?"

"Yes" I nodded.

"So I do not need to repeat the stories. Just the one that will answer some of your questions. I and my father before me, Fingolfin, spoke against Feanor and his sons. Feanor was angered had been banished from Tœna and he rebelled against the Valar. I am reminded of the story of Feanor and the Teleri and the battle that resulted. How the Teleri were overcome and how a majority of their mariners were wickedly slain at the hands of the Noldor, for the Teleri were outnumbered. A great number of the Noldor escaped, even though many were lost as the sea rose in its wrath against the slayers.

They came to some land and marched for a great while and eventually came to the northern confines of the Guarded Realm. That is where some say Mandos himself, made a proclamation; it is called the Prophecy of the North and it was the Doom of the Noldor. It was a curse that he uttered. It was uttered because of the kinslaying that had taken place. It was as he proclaimed and many died by weapon and by torment and by grief.

I was much younger and fearless, bold of spirit and fiery of heart as was my brother Fingon. We fought in that battle and there were many that were not known to me. I used to carry a great sword called 'Silmar', a sword of power, and I am afraid that during those days and that battle, it killed many of its own kind. It is a great sword and that is why I passed it down as I could no longer wield it for I felt that I had brought a great dishonour upon it. Only one of a guiltless and true heart can wield it and restore it to power.?

As I started to weep, Turgon took my hands and kissed them. Then he enfolded me in his arms and we sat and wept together.

In the midst of his trance, the Black Knight relived again those long ago days... the time of the Dagor-nuin-Giliath and the coming of Feanor and his host to Middle-Earth.

Proudly had he ridden forth that day, at the van of the armies of Morgoth. Drawn to the great noise in Lammoth and the light of the burning ships at Losgar, the orc hordes had fallen upon the encamped Noldor on the fields of Mithrim. However, despite the fact that their camp was yet ill-suited for defence and they had been assailed with great haste, the Eldar had nevertheless fought back fiercely and soon turned the tide of the assault.

He tried to rally the fleeing orcs, but the cowardly creatures could do nothing but run. Time and time again they had tried to make a stand, but the majority of his force was smashed at last at the battle of the Fens of Serech. With but a scant few at his side, he had returned to Angband to report his defeat.

The Dark Lord had been greatly angered, but when news reached him that Feanor himself had pushed all the way to Dor Daedeloth, the Black Knight was offered a chance to redeem himself on the field of battle once again. Wielding the great mace Ellenržth, the Star of Anger, he waded forth at the side of Gothmog himself. Many Noldor he slew that day, yet in a frenzied rush to reach the Noldorin Prince, the Black Knight had been struck down by one of the surviving Eldarin commanders. He fell hard upon the ground, and as he did so, the visor of his dark helm flew open and he stared at the face of his opponent, poised over him to deal the killing blow. Surprise and shock registered across the Noldo's face for the countenance of the dark mailed enemy upon the ground was elven itself.

Just at that moment, a great triumphant roar was heard as the mighty Feanor perished at last at the hands of the Lord of Balrogs. His enemy, distracted and dismayed by the death of his leader, was borne away in the confusion of the battle raging around him, his fallen oponnent forgotten.

On the ground, the darkness came at last to claim the Black Knight's consciousness.

Helazzar was glad of the respect that he had gained for the Lord Elbren. He ate for his hunger was great but he did it in a right manner and a way from the others. It was strange he felt a kin to some and not to others, but he felt a special and strange drawing towards the Black Knight... but why?

Elbren laid the Mithril Cloak upon the shoulders of the Black Knight as he slowly came back to the present.

"When you are steady on your feet, wait for me with the others in the outer chamber," he said.

The Black Knight nodded slightly as Elbren handed him a mug of wine, "Drink this, it will help ground you."

Elbren then stood up and walked to the three remaining visionquestors: Aglanor, Meneltarma, and Jaxon. He checked their breathing and pulse and made sure they were still comfortable. Glancing at the South wall mural, he wondered how Idril was doing with Turgon in Gondolin...

She must return soon, Turgon, Elbren spoke in Quenya as he approached the Mural, touching the image of the great hidden city, give her the Cloak there if you wish, but do not keep her overlong, she is not yet fully prepared and trained for this sort of journey.

The Dwarf entered the Mural Room and stood quietly by the doors. Elbren saw him and walked over silently.

"Shall I open the armoury?" the Dwarf asked.

"Yes, open it and allow them to choose for the Nargothrond journey," Elbren replied.

"No relics?"

"No, not this time, just standard First Age armour, we'll save any relics for another time."

The Dwarf nodded and left...

After a while, she sat up and found herself alone again. The sun was waning and there was going to be a beautiful sunset this evening she was sure of it. And with the setting of the sun there was always the promise of another day. Suddenly she saw Turgon approaching with one following him with something laid in his arms.

"There were many things that we needed to speak of but we have covered the one that troubled you the most. We need to speak of only one other." And with a slight movement of his head, his assistant stepped off to a side garden full of flowers and waited for them.

"Do you know the story about the Falling of Feanor? Let me tell you this story so that you have it correctly in your mind. Our people had grown strong once more. And Morgoth had long prepared his force in secret. His hatred for our people grew so great that he could think of only our destruction. There was a great battle which Morgoth called forth many of his distructive allies. There was Glaurung the golden, and in his train were Balrogs, followed by the black armies of the Orcs in massive numbers that we had not seen before. They came against the Noldor and our allies with a great force but we were strong and a force to be wreckened with as we slew many of Morgoth's strength. The Battle of Sudden Flame ended with the coming of spring.

Many were lost in that battle and many fled after that time to go where they would be received. The war had gone ill for the sons of Feanor. As they were making their way through the Pass of Aglon to Beleriand, another fight broke out. But Feanor was overwhelmed yet again, for Glaurung came and destroyed all the land between the arms of Gelion. The Noldor were eventually crushed and the king, my father, Fingolfin challenged Morgoth and called him out. And Morgoth came.

Morgoth came out unwillingly as he feared only one thing in the World, the Valar. He could not become disgraced by not heeding the call once it was made. During the fight The King wounded Morgoth with seven wounds and Morgoth cried out seven times. But in the end The King grew weary. Morgoth, using his shield, bore down upon the King three times, crushing him to his knees. Morgoth in the end killed The King but not without the loss of his foot, which the King as his last desperate stroke, cut from the body of Morgoth. Thanks be to Thorondor as he swooped down and grasped The King's body and brought it to a safe place. I later raised a cairn high over the body of my father Fingolfin."

She was lost in the battle in her minds eye but asked, "What happened to Feanor?"

"Ah yes, I should tell you that tale. Let me get us a drink before I continue." And with that Turgon left her to sit and contemplate for awhile while he found a servant to get them drinks and had them brought out to the garden.

Turgon returned followed by another assistant who carried a tray of wine with cheeses and bread also upon the tray. Turgon bid him to leave it and sent the aid off back to his duties. He then poured to goblets of the sweet smelling juice and passed one to her. He bid her to drink. She did as she was bid to do even though she did not thirst.

"Please drink with me of this wine. It will quench any thrist you might have. And it will give me strength to tell this tale. We have come to a time that I do not like to talk of. Bare with me as I will try to tell of this tale quickly." He had heard a bidding by one not there urging him to be quick in the telling of this tale and so he continues.

"The Noldor were fighting against Melkor, one you know as Morgoth. Feanor, in his anger and white heat, was pursuing orcs alone but many of us were already in battles and could not have come to his aid if we wanted to. I looked at him with a look of surprise and anguish all in one. "Yes, daughter, I too, was there. There he was, in his shining mail, his sword brandished mightily, fighting valiantly upon the Plain of Dor Daedeloth before Angband. I can still hear Feanor's laughter echoing off the iron walls that were before him. He thought himself invincible. But alas, it was not to be.

As he battled, Feanor never faltered but continued to battle on fearlessly. There was fire and smoke all around him and his sword smote many of the enemy that day. But alas, a mighty Balrog, named Gothmog, came at Feanor and dealt him his fatal blow. Only then did he falter and fall, dropping his sword. His sons came then, and drove off the Balrogs and carried their father to safety, but it was too late for Feanor, as he knew he was dying. He had a vision as death neared that the Noldor would never over throw Morgoth on their own. He spoke to his sons of their Oath, and they kneeled next to him, swearing it again and swearing to always serve their own hearts and their own minds above anyone else's. Feanor then took one of the mightiest of talismans and gifted it to Maglor.

When he died, his spirit was so hot and full of fire that his body was consumed and turned to ash before their very eyes."

Turgon stood and faced to waning light of the sun and then turned to her with tears in his eyes.

"I later fled that battle when a moment of confusion presented itself. I came here, to hide in Gondolin in secret, until a time that I was again needed and heard the horns of my breathern blowing on the wind."

He approached me and I stood as he wrapped my arm inside of his. We walked to the flower garden just to the side of the main one we had been in. He bid me kneel and as I did so, he unfolded the cloak that had been left by his aid. "You have understanding now of what had taken place and you have 'journeyed there with me' in your vision here as I told you the history. You have found answers to your questions regarding your sword also, which deterred you from another quest you were to take. Accept now this cloak as you must return soon to whence you came."

As she stood, he had another goblet there which he handed to her and bid her to drink once more. As she did so, she was again on the path but this time she was at the hill heading out of Gondolin. She turned and looked and thought that she could make out Turgon standing at the edge of the garden waving to her. She returned the wave and came back into the room from the murals wall.

Elbren turned and saw that she had returned and quickly made his way to her. But not before she stumbled and fell to her knees, her cloak billowing out around her.

Her head was swimming and she was dizzy suddenly as if she had been drugged! She put her hand up to her head to keep it from spinning but that did not stop it or the room.

She started to think of all that had happened and she remembered that Turgon had placed a cloak around her. It had looked to be just a warming cloak, something to protect her from the night air, but now that she was back in the room, it had changed again. It looked different here, maybe it was the light. She gave her head a shake, realizing that was the wrong thing to do a little to late.

She was not sure why she was reacting suddenly; was it the drink that Lord Elbren had given her, the quest drink? Or was she given something to really drink while on her quest? She put it off to what she had been through and she finally had her answers and she tried to concentrate upon those, willing the dizziness away.

As Elbren led the Mithril Knights into the Feasting Hall, the aromas of roasted meats, fresh breads, vegetables, and fruits filled the air. Elbren motioned for each Knight to take their place. Just as he prepared to seat himself, another cloaked figured entered and whispered something in Elbren's ear.

"I shall return momentarily, please begin," Elbren said and left the Hall.

He went back to the Mural Room where Aglanor, Meneltarma, and Jaxon were being re-awakened and led back to their chambers for sleep. It was uncertain whether or not they would attempt a second Initiation visionquest; that would be decided on the morrow once they were fully "back" within their bodies.

Elbren made his way to the South wall where Idril was kneeling, weary from her journey to Gondolin. Elbren took her hands and helped her to stand, smiling at her bewildered expression.

"You have done well, M'lady, come, join your fellow Guild members in a celebration feast and find some of the answers to your questions."

He led her back to the Feasting Hall where the others nodded their greetings, most of them already eating and beginning to feel "whole" again.

Her thoughts had been a torment of darkness and fierce anger. She felt an urgency she could not explain. She had slowed her breathing and concentrated on the breathing and sounds of the others present, but still the visions resisted her and her rage remained.

Long had this battle with herself reigned. It had become so much a part of her, she could not let it go. Something inside her needed it, breathed it. Perhaps she had resisted it too long and it was growing.

Now, alone in her room she decided what she must do. Hers was to be a solitary journey. A journey into her own darkness and a battle with her own rage. She emerged from the room and sought the lord Elbren.

"Lord Elbren, we must speak." she said, her voice calm. "Forgive me, but I must depart. I have a journey I must complete before I can surrender my heart to the Guild. I cannot complete this quest with an open and free heart without first embracing the darkness it holds. Long have I railed against it, fought it at every turn. Controlled it to aid my warrior's life. Now,I must face it. Alone."

Elbren nodded, he seemed to understand. "The Guild will be here, ere you return. It is never aging, and flows as constant as the sea outside. Time may pass or it may not. Your quest is your own. The halls remain."

Jaxon bowed and turned from the room, heading for the door and the salt air that awaited on the other side.

Aglanor was still dizzy. He was still sweating and shivering from his encounter with the black army. When first meeting up with the enemy everything went smooth, but it got hard. What he had always been afraid had come to pass. He was not good for large scale battle - yet. He had vowed to himself that he would be, and would prove at the next best opportunity. But as he understood, the next vision quest was to be a sneaky one, not meeting with large armies.

He hoped he didn't dissappoint Elbren, because he'd give his life for this guild; well not literary, but he would do many things to get in this guild. It wasn't an obsession, but a sort of life quest for him.