Here begins the Initiation of Erinhue of Belfalas and Mirdain of Lothlorien...

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. Lord Elbren and Lady Idril have led the applicants, Erinhue and Mirdain, 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...

Elbren gestured to the House, "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**

Then entered the House and Elbren called for quiet in the Hall, for there were other Mithril Knights there, "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**

Mirdain did as he was bid, depositing his possessions and his weapons in the appointed trunk, all except the crystal, which he could not bring himself to remove. He was ravenous with hunger after the past few days, and ate as large a meal as he felt he could hold. Mirdain then went to his chambers and slept comfortably. His dreams were powerful and vivid. In the first, he walked proudly along a golden lane lined with people much like his home in Lorien, or at least the way it used to be. He then saw himself as a boy, training with his father, while Galadriel looked on, smiling. Then the dream shifted, and Mirdain quickly realized he was in a battle. He felt the heat, the intesity of it. He charged into battle, most fearless of all warriors, with sword raised high. Felling one demon after another, he felt strangely invincible. There were bodies all about, but nothing seemed to be able to bring him down. The dreams shifted back once again to more pleasant visions of his home and his travels with Lady Idril.

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...

Erinhue and Mirdain would face first the East wall where the battle of Dagor-nuin-Giliath was portrayed. 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, 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. 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. But something else was just at the edges of his mind...something was amiss. Something beyond the Initiation House...something...something severely out of balance.

He opened the double door to the Mural Room to find the Dwarf Lord of the Initiation House awaiting him patiently.

"M'lord, forgive me, but Lord Orodreth has come and says that he has an urgent need to speak with you."

"Tend the fires in the Mural Room, then, and send word to Erinhue and Mirdain that they are to come within the hour," Elbren said quietly, worry gnawing at him, "I shall seek Lord Orodreth."

Mirdain heard a knock on the door to his room. He opened it to admit the Dwarf Lord, who then informed him of Lord Elbren's request. Mirdain began to hastily pack his things.

Elbren hurried back to the Mural Room and awaited Erinhue and Mirdain. When they finally entered the room, he motioned for them to sit on the floor. There were comfortable rugs and furs piled throughout the room.

Elbren went to the brazier and took some warm oil and several sprigs of rosemary. He walked to Erinhue and Mirdain and 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 them 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 Mirdain, kneeling before him, holding the metal piece, which was hollow, towards his mouth.

"You have come to answer the summons of the Ancients, Mirdain," 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."

Mirdain drank and instantly things began to change. The mural on the wall shimmered, and the characters within in it sprang to life. Mirdain looked up where the ceiling should have been, and instead found a starry sky. Looking around, he realized he had been thrown into the middle of a battle. An orc came screaming up behind him, and Mirdain only just had time to regain his senses and dodge the blow.

The orc wheeled about for another try. Mirdain drew his sword to make ready, but it was not needed. An arrow came whizzing out of the half-dark to strike the orc in the neck. Mirdain looked around for the one who had helped him, and saw that it was Maglor. Could this be real? Mirdain wondered to himself.

Maglor nodded to Mirdain and then started off in another direction. Mirdain followed, intrigued by what was happening. He kept his sword at the ready, ever weary of the danger of the battle at hand.

Mirdain fought by Maglor then for a time, wishing to see this thing through to its end. Several days later, the great Feanor was found nearly dead at the hands of a Balrog. The sons of Feanor carried him off the battlefield, and Mirdain gazed upon the leader of the Noldor personally for the first time. Feanor glanced at him, and Mirdain felt the legacy and knew his destiny. Feanor then opened his hand to reveal the Phial. Giliath Londe! Mirdain whispered in wonder. He had never seen it before but knew instantly what it was from the stories. Feanor handed the Phial to Maglor and then told him and the rest of his sons of his oath. Mrdain listened to the words, just outside where they were huddled, and repeated them in his mind.

Then Mirdain was nearly blinded as Feanor's spirit was consumed in a brilliant golden fire. Recovering, Mirdain stood as still as a statue, pondering what had happened.

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 Erinhue and Mirdain, 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.

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 Mirdain appear on the mural, as if by magic, and Elbren thus knew that Mirdain was now a Witness to the Giliath Londe.

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 Mirdain 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 Mirdain, 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 Mirdain, 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 Mirdain and placed it before the new Mithril Knight.

Then, he turned to watch the mural to see when Erinhue would form within the scene...

The world around Mirdain began to shimmer, then everything went dark and he collapsed. Within seconds his eyes blinked open, and he first realized that he was back in the Guild House. He then felt the power of the new cloak given him surge through his body. Unable to move still, weary from the battle Mirdain merely looked about. He thought he saw Orodreth out of the corner of his eye, smiling. Next to him was erinhue. In front of him stood Elbren, who upon seeing Mirdain blink, said what you are feeling is only an effect of the drink. It will wear off shortly. Mirdain then let himself drift a little.

For all the taverns he had passed so many a night in, Erinhue had never tasted anything like the drink Elbren had given him and Mirdain. It ran warm and comfroting through his veins and for one of the few times in his waking life he did not hear the soft murmur of the dragonharp in the bottom of his mind.

The room began to change to blur and fade into a vision of another place. A piece of his mind wondered and drifted mellow on the drink. Another smaller but everpresent piece was searching for the words to put this feeling into song.

Elbren helped Mirdain to stand finally and then led him out of the Mural Room and back into the main chamber of the Initiation House.

"Sit and rest," Elbren told him as Mirdain sat near the fire, "eat as much as you can handle and then sleep. We will all meet tonight and have dinner, and then Orodreth and I must be off to Mirkwood. You are welcome to accompany us, if you like, but you are not obligated to do so. Oh," Elbren smiled, "welcome and congratulations on your Knighting."

Mirdain nodded wearily as Elbren then stood and walked back to the Mural Room. Erinhue was still deep in the trance of the Giliath Londe...

Elbren drew the hood of his midnight blue cloak back up over his head, drawing it down in the front so that his face was in complete shadow.

A second, distant horn sounded and Elbren again turned to the mural, his eyes focusing upon the scene where Feanor was dying. He saw the figure of Erinhue appear on the mural. 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 Erinhue was sitting, still deep in his trance.

The cloak looked lovely from a distance, and runes of power with Elvish script could be seen woven into the fabric. On the inside of the hood was a map of the night sky.

Elbren took the cloak and laid it around the shoulders of Erinhue, who did not stir. 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 Erinhue, who seemed to be waking.

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 bread and cheese and a mug of cold ale for Erinhue and placed it before the new Mithril Knight.

"Congratulations, Erinhue," Elbren smiled.

Still in the grip of trance, Erinhue gratefully accepted the food and especially the ale. When his first thirst was abated he murmured in what voice he had, "I thank you Elbren and I pray I shall be worthy of your trust and this honor."