Peredhil

Whispers quietly, stiffling snickers, "This is brilliant..."

w00t! Huggles for Psi' and his family Wonderful news! Congrats!

Laughs happily Does Salinye NEED the five geld? She maxed out at ten early and delightfully. I think it's wonderful when people work together, but only the poster will get the geld - and only the poster's integrity can share the credit.

W00T! Signs of life. And of course you can post as many as you like - just paid for the name poem and one other. The object is creativity and fun. And I'm having fun reading these.

*huggles and holds comfortingly* For what it matters, I wuv oo!

blushes Thank you - but if you don't write one for yourself as well, you won't get any geld!!!

Can we nominate ourself? You're so good at this, I want one too! Feel free to do any of my "posse", the boys or the bodyguards, if you feel incredibly inspired and full of spare time and talent!

Sweet Salinye approved my poems, A wonderful Elven lass. Like a dandelion she comes and goes. In a blink of an eye her beauty you'll spy - Look speedily for she's awefully fast. You'd be hard-pressed to find another like her. Even if you search the Planes for a year. Salinye (An acrostic for another.)

Puzzling on how to raise some geld E'er scratching at the fevered brow Reaching for ideas which refuse to meld Each idea rejected; about to have a cow "Do I fall to the side, penniless, broken?" How fortunate that Nyyark was around to suggest 'I think an acrostic poetry contest would be best". Love live the helpful power of advisors and friends! Thus, the idea is to write an acrostic poem Holding to the pattern of a vertical name Every first letter working to write a word Pick your name and you will receive geld in number of five Otherwise, pick another member's name and five for them too Let your pen flow and write acrostic you and acrostic them I will let you walk away with a geld pouch of ten Tell your friends, challenge your foes if you can find any Everyone is welcome to participate. As you can tell, it can be rhymed, rhythmically metered, or free verse. 1) The first letters when read vertically spell your name (five geld). 2) If you have written an acrostic poem for yourself, you may play again by writing another acrostic poem for another member. (a second five geld, for a total of ten.) 3) Have fun. -Peredhil the Polite

I know! I know! but only because you told me. Really well done.

I read NTraveler2's post and intially thought, "Oh dear. This is why I have a distaste for emotionally-linked threads such as religion and politics." However, on thinking about it, I feel I owe it to the Pen not to just shake my head and walk away with a sigh, but to express WHY the post disturbed me. It wasn't WHAT was said as much as HOW it was said. I'm quite religious in my own way. Fine so far. Many of us echo this in variations. Notice the "I" statement owning the thought and feelings, but implicitly acknowledging that others may not be religious or religious in not their own way or her way. "I believe, but you can believe differently" works well at the Pen. It allows discussion instead of battle. I picture it as if we are friends standing side-by-side, laying our cards on the table and examining the configurations, similarities, and differences and commenting on them. One alternative picture is the fox-hole mentality - I'm on this side of the table with my cards, and the area between us is an expected battlefield. If you lay down a card, I have to neutralize it or trump it - and there can only be one over-all winner. I worship the Goddess. Okay. Another "I" statement. Several of my friends do too. Their choice. *shrugs* All these monotheistic, savagely proselytizing, male-deity-oriented religions do give me headaches. Now I have a problem. Monotheistic religions, when analyzed for what they are, not what claim to be, fall into Hebrew (waiting for a Messiah), Christian (Messiah came and is returning), and Moslem (Have the Prophet, waiting on Messiah? I'm still learning this one). But common to all three is the basic principle of separation. There is a single God, who created a creation, but is totally separate from it. Help in one way or another is needed to reach or communicate with this diety (if desired). Contrast this with the myriad forms of unary-theistic, in which individuals are an extension of creation. The base form is that all is one, and individuals are extensions of whatever form(s) the diety(dieties) are identified. The ultimate goal is a blending of ego with the oneness of all in some form, merging with the all. Now, it is the word savagely which disturbs me most, as that word makes this an attack. I'm quite good at attack and defense of ideas in the rest of my life. I'd rather not have to deal with it at the Pen. Normally I don't. Using the word savagely makes this a post which seeks to manipulate through generalization and implicitly in second-order analysis places any who disagree in condemnation. Jareena Fay, in one of her first posts, wrote a manipulative post. When it was pointed out to her, she changed her style and has been a welcome member since. Alternatively, she could've taken refuge in pride and anger, and decided, "they misunderstood, I'm right, they're wrong." One of the problems with anger as a ego-protector is that it forms an "ego-net feedback loop". In order to justify self, the other person must be dejustified. To be good, they must be bad. This effects future perceptions and receptions in interpreting events and words, and becomes a self-fulfilling perception which can lead to the dehumanization of the "opponent". An example would be someone who believes in the absolute right to life of all and is willing to kill anyone who disagrees as they must not be human and are therefore exempt from not being killed. All these monotheistic, savagely proselytizing, male-deity-oriented religions do give me headaches. Oh, forgot the use of "all" lumping anyone who disagrees with the statement as an enemy. Gross generalization. Everyone I've met at the Pen is unique. The only "all" statement I've found that fits is that we're all unique together. "proselytizing" - anyone who holds an idea does this in any forum. All that differs is the manner. Anyone who says, "I believe ..." or "I think..." is proselytizing. Male-deity-oriented - yeah, that's traditionally the way its viewed. In nearly every culture, loving discipline was masculine. Given its commonality, I might suspect it is genetically based - and I'm very suspicious of any genetic-thinking. I do note that my particular religion has many references (often ignored by people seeking ego-power) to male and female not mattering. y'all submit to each other (whoever is most qualified in the situation lead and the rest follow. The word submit translating from a military term meaning, "willing obedience to a legal and lawful authority", not blind slavery. In any group, there will be formal or informal leadership, and the final decision will come from the leaders, or the leaders validating someone else's decision. see sociology and dynamics of small group interactions.) Additionally, in my religion, I seem to recall a "neither hebrew or gentile, male nor female, bond-servant (hebrew variant of slavery, different from American traditional) or free ..." Hard to be clearer than that I'd think, but I see it ignored routinely. I'm sorry they give you headaches though. I think anyone who endures headaches can relate to that part. We need some more love in the world. I agree and its the foundation of my religion. Nice to have overlap! Love even for monotheistic, savagely proselytizing, male-deity-oriented religious people? My personal beliefs are heavily Buddhist, somewhat Hindu, but centered around the Goddess. It makes me happy. Good! My personal belief system is that a religion should work for the individual, as well as their effect on others. It should set up the choice for "win-win" situations. I was once an atheist, and I think much like one now, but I have chosen to love the Goddess. Right on! More "I" statements. In my opinion, religion should be a choice - allowed for every person whether they agree or disagree with each other. All in all, in my opinion, if you'd left out the headache sentence, that would've been a personal affirmation of belief that would've fit in well with the rest of the posting Penners. Except maybe Aardvark, but his hyperbolic rant was so well written and done in such an offensively humorous way that it wasn't offensive. He's very skilled at that. hugs Hopefully this feedback will be received in the gentle analytically based way it was intended. If not, I apologize in advance if I was too harsh. -Pendantic Peredhil

Having lost fear eons before (much to the regret of his Bodyguards), Peredhil hugs her tenderly as she leaves. Slash me if you need Honey, I always heal. But you needed a hug from someone who cares.

After the weekly wait, of course Xaious nailed it on the head. Although in her promotion piece the shy angel with the tilted halo carefully shines and straightens it for her again, was given a different side to show.

Having given it the requisite time, the answer is Dr. Evil. Polite Points award to those who can explain all the allusions.

Yay! I'm always happy to see you post. Good expression of feeling in the poem, although if you expect the relationship to fail, it tends to make it happen faster. Or at least, in my experience with that perception filtering. Awkward rhyme with "awaken" instead of "awakening". Maybe rework it? Welcome back.

Couldn't resist - there's now a short epilogue...

Epilogue It was about a week later when the package came for Miss Ayshela. It was good timing 'cause Elladan had asked for the knives back and she was a bit down. Guido was all mad that he'd missed the fun; I told him to go steal some of Elladan's knives for Miss Ayshela if he wanted to be useful. Shut him right up. Anyway, the package wasn't a bomb. Instead, it turned out to be a big bear-skin rug, and two wolverine cloaks. Wolverine furs is funny in a way - it's the only one which doesn't build up ice from your breath in freezing temperatures. I guess since the other one was outside, he must've managed to weasel his way back into B.B's good graces. At least the date wasn't boaring... -Nuncio

Nuncio's date with Ayshela posted and linked. Ummm, I think I'm gonna run now. I'm soooo dead if she catches me. Remember, it's all Nuncio's fault!

“Do you trust me?” I held out my paw to Miss Ayshela and waited. I could see the thoughts racing across her face(; human-types are so expressive). Do I trust ANYONE? Trust on what? This is Peredhil’s bodyguard. I trust Peredhil, do I trust his bodyguard? Trust him on what? Is he good enough at what he does to be trusted? I trust Peredhil’s trust, but do I directly trust him? I stood with a toothy grin, patiently. It was a good sign she hadn’t immediately closed the door with a “no”. Finally, she hesitantly replied as she reached out to take my paw. “Kinda… but if something goes wrong, I can’t guarantee that I won’t take action…” “Good enough!” I gave her paw, uh, hand a gentle squeeze, letting her feel the muscles and calloused edges my deceptive fur hid. Unlike some, I think she’s reassured at the power, speed, and training I hold in reserve. Being bodyguard in a place of powerful people, I’m willing not to advertise any potential advantages. She squeezed back and allowed me in, with her other hand going reflexively to rest near a knife. Heh, what a doll! “So,” I tell her. “For our date, the Boss sent along this amulet. It has his symbol on it, and has the following properties: if you are killed, it will Gate you back to the Boss’s chambers, and cast a resurrection on you. It’s only good for one shot, so try not to be followed. He thought you might find it reassuring.” She nodded thoughtfully and took the amulet, examining it carefully. Her eyes widened a little as she felt its warmth. Putting it around her neck, she lifted her hair over the leather lace. The amulet snuggled in the notch where her collarbones came together and I heard it hum comfortingly as it started filtering her life essence. If she’d been even slightly sick before, she’d be fine now. I can’t have my date claiming a headache. I nearly snorted in amusement at the thought when I remembered how the females of the species used that as an excuse, and for what. I restrained myself, wouldn’t want her to feel self-conscious about me randomly laughing. I’m just a mirthful sorta pig sometimes. “Also, Elladan sent these along…when I threatened to tell the Boss about the time he was gonna use paint thinner on Zool,” I continued to myself. I handed over four knives in thin flat sheathes. I don’t like to twist ‘Dan’s tail but I think he respects that I don’t drop pellets when he talks. At least, he hasn’t killed me out of annoyance yet. I smiled. Yet. I decided I probably shouldn’t mention that ‘Dan was the one who told me how to get to where we were going. People get the wrong idea about him. “They’re a loan he said. They’re glasstine, strong as steel, but won’t show up on a metal or weapon detector. He warned me to tell you they’re a bitch to recover if you accidentally drop one – you can’t they’re nearly transparent to sight and locate spells.” “So, now that all that’s said, are you ready to have fun?” I struggled not to laugh at her expression and waited for it… “So … where are we going?” “To the multi-universe’s biggest amusement park,” I enthused. Honestly, I love roller coasters. “I hope you have a head for heights!” Safe bet the way she climbed like squirrel, and the green brown camouflage was a dead give-away. She’d make a good sniper. I looked around the room with professional interest as she stepped into the other room to exchange knives. Nice, no view of the bed from the opened door. Simple precaution too many targets don’t take. She came out in two shakes of Mary’s Familiar’s tail, and I held out my hand again. “Ready?” I took her grasp as assent and Cast. I think she might’ve shouted something like “eep”, but it was lost in the Planar snap. I love taking people for a ride, ‘specially when I don’t have to off them at the end. I’m just friendly like that. We came out as required, in a side alcove away from security and at least three meters from sentient beings. The spell has taken a while to get us there, and I could see why. There were more people than a server reset sale in the Nexus. I use the term people lightly. There were a number of normals – I could see pigs and sheep pulling the one-armed bandits from where I stood, the abnormals like humans and elves, and then the really strange. There was one thing in a tank that looked like a rainbow shimmering through a gas cloud, weaving in and out among the throng packing the joint. Nice operation with a good crowd. Probably raking off a good cut, I figured. There were a few nice girls in short skirts carrying each person’s poison – one gazelle had nice legs from here to there, but I immediately focused on the security. They weren’t obvious except for the radios disguised as hearing aids. No puma that age would have a hearing aid; maybe earplugs for the dull roar of the crowd, but not a hearing aid. I straightened my tie and pushed my fedora forward to shade my eyes from the glare of the neon lights. Miss Ayshela was peering around at the crowd, looking none too happy at the crowd, but playing along like champ. While I was casting the eyes around for signs leading to the amusement park section, a couple of toughs cut through the crowd toward us like cruise ship moving through tugboats. I mean, everyone just moved right out of their way without being obvious. When I had located the nearest exits and toughs, I focused on them. All three were dressed in tuxedos and fedoras with bad tailors. The leader was a stumpy-legged weasel followed by two wolverines who looked like they had hangovers. With a sigh, I slipped on the Faerie Dragon Ring the Boss had made that last world. Didn’t think I’d need the protection from magics, but the speed boost against the wolverines would be handy if anything went sour. With a reassuring smile to Miss Ayshela, I told her, “A couple of local heavies are headed our way. Just let me do the talking, okay?” I think I know why Elladan had told me I’d fit right in. A Family ran this place. The elevators were smooth and fast. Which was a good thing as the wolverines were pretty rank smelling. The air conditioning couldn’t keep up with their musk. No words had been spoken since the weasel whined a polite “B.B wants ta see youse.” My brother would’ve fit right in their mangled language. It was a penthouse suite of course. The no-class guys always put their egos at the top. Chumps and pikers, but usually pretty dangerous. They’ve had to fight their way up. The secretary sat at the far side of a room the size of a barn. What a bird! She was filing her nails idly and ignored us as only a swan can. The carpet was ankle-deep plush. I always hated that weave, as I’m a heavy pig and my feet bind when I’m doing a spin. The heavies would have the same problem but the weasel would move over it like lightening. I shifted my weight up on my claws like I was ready to sprint. Probably looked somewhat funny, me walking with a slightly pigeon-toed walk, but anyone who’s fought a pigeon spell-singer wouldn’t laugh. Little squawkers can turn on a dime and give you eight cents change. The weasel stopped us at the door. Frosted glass panel with “B.B. Wolf” on it in square black letters. The wood looked like a veneer over steel, would probably take a good four-hundred pound kick to pop it. I smiled at the wolverines polite-like, as I realized that the frame wasn’t reinforced, just the door. Guido and I would’ve dropped the hit on this joker and be downstairs flirting by now. Save me from amateurs. Funny thing was, it looked like old money – the wear on the handle said they’d been here a while. Which told me the competition was pitiful. Give me my brother, Alfonse, and Rocky and we’d be running this place in a week. For that matter, Maria and Juliet. I reminded myself to stay on edge. I had a guest and the Boss was pretty clear on how the ladies of the Pen should be treated. Not that he – It was like a lightening bolt hitting me. I knew where we were. This was the place the Boss lost his temper. While we walk into the office, the wolverines peeling off to stand by either side of the door, the weasel waiting outside, let me fill you in. The guy behind the big desk really was a wolf, an old lobo with a cropped left ear and missing two claws off his left forepaw. He was ignoring us and scratching at some piece of paper. Really put me in my place, to be allowed to gander at the room while he stuffed his ego. But then, I’m just a placid sorta pig. I mentioned the stinkers now back by the door. The wolf had an oafish fat-looking grizzly with the brass-covered claws loafing against the wall behind him, while an expensive looking robin perched close to his side. Let me tell you, red-breasted just started to describe – Naw, let me finish with the room. It was polished checkerboard black and white polished tiles. The walls were light green with many windows of doubled bulletproof glass where the shades weren’t drawn. Looked like steel-louvered with remotes. I could see the loops drops and spirals of my roller coaster waiting out there and was looking forward to making its acquaintance. Miss Ayshela was not wasting a word, but inside her subdued cloak, I figured she had a knife in both hands. She wasn’t the type to shrink and faint in a scuffle – unless it would distract the opposition. Good to have her at my back, but I missed Guido, big mouth and all. The wolf squared his papers neatly with manicured claws, and decided we’d had enough time to realize how important he was. He looked up and I interrupted. Rude, but the Boss wasn’t here now, and from what I’d gotten out of Elrohir when they’d caught up with him in this place, he hadn’t been too polite. “Yo dog, what're you thinking to pull a Sicilian into your office when all he wants is to enjoy the roller coaster? I’m on a date.” He started to darken and his eyes went a flat yellow. The grizzly straighten up and finally began looking me over and I could smell the battle-release of the wolverines. The one to the left began whining high in his throat. Poor saps couldn’t help it, but it gave away their positional advantage in being behind him. The wolf settled back in the chair and the robin casually stood up and moved her tail feathers over to look out the window. Lacquered runic implants glimmered on her legs; she was a Hat, a magic user for you illiterate types. See, I’m just a patient teacher sorta pig. “I think you’re far away from your Family at the moment, little piggy,” B.B growled deep from in his throat. “As to that, you don’t want to attract the kind of attention you’d get. But all that aside, there’s something you should know.” “I think I’ll believe you between after you’ve learned manners.” I could hear the wolverines trying to move quietly up on me. Claws on tile? Saps. I stepped aside from Miss Ayshela and pushed her a step forward. “My what big eyes you got,” I remarked sarcastically, pushing my luck. They was starting to get my blood pressure up and I felt my fur rising along my spine. “Fix them peepers on her jewelry.” I whispered down to my wonderful lovely date, “Ma’am, would you be as kind as to bring forward your pendant into the light?” I can really spit out the fancy words when I want. Guido can speak seventeen languages and not one of them well. I’m just a literary sorta pig when I put on the posh. Well, after a pause, which I attribute to sheathing a knife, she brings out the amulet. Let meese tell youse, when da Dòn sees dat shiner. Uh, excuse me. When the lupus Mafioso sees the amulet, everyone froze. I mean, they quit breathing. Except for the muscle coming up from behind, who are too blood-hungry and stupid to notice that the whole situation has changed. Dòn Wolf surges to his feet and snarls at the muscle-boys, “Aaron, Thom, back off.” I love it when a boss thinks he can reclaim pride by abusing his boys. That’s the problem with pack-behavior mentality. So he walks all stiff-legged around his desk and comes toward us. The bear is sucking his paws with indecision and fear, and the stinkers are back by the door sulking. I consider telling him to stay his distance, but while he’s playing it cool, keeping steady eye contact, his tail has sneaked up between his legs and his big ears are flat back against his head. He looks at the amulet with his big eyes, and smiles ingratiatingly-like at Miss Ayshela with his big teeth. “M’Lady, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you were such a special visitor here. Please, allow me to extend to you the welcome of the management. I’m sorry for the confusion, heh, heh, heh.” Oh yeah, he’s an oily charmer he is. Probably robs little old grandmothers of their inheritance without blinking. “Please, any ride you want, you and your companion just go to the head of the line. If you want a prize, just claim it if the game is too hard. You want to play a game of chance? Show that little piece of jewelry and I personally guarantee you’ll win. And if you see him again,” (I’m trying not to laugh at this point. A pool is forming at his feet, and it isn’t lemonade. I imagine these bozos are too stupid to realize that they’re dead the minute we leave. He can afford to let them live, having seen such submission.) “Please, if you see him again, let him know that we treated you very well. Anything. Just ask.” He walked us to the door himself, and let us out. I felt sorry for the bird, but them's the breaks when you run with the big wolves. We were waiting for the elevator when the fighting began. The elevator doors were closing when the grizzly flew bleeding through the office door. Knew that doorjamb was a weak spot; he didn’t even bounce once. So we go down and security has a bubble around us, eyeing the crowd like their lives depended on it. It was kinda funny, the milk-bottles fell before she could throw the balls at them at the first game, until I told the carnie she wanted it fair. He didn’t believe me until I explained it gentle-like. After that, they all ran their games fair while they were there. The first guy wasn’t even bleeding hard when he apologized to Miss Ayshela. I guess the Boss is rubbing off on me. That lady can throw things better than Guido! We rode the roller coaster and she didn’t ever get sick on me. It was wonderful. Wound up buildings, over the edges, jumped tracks occasionally and the five-second freefall onto the invisible track section was really exciting. I wasn’t worried for a minute, no matter what she says. I couldn’t believe it, but after only two days, she actually fell asleep on the Ferris Wheel! I didn’t think it was possible for Miss Ayshela to fall asleep in public. I had some of the boys put her stuffed toys into a big bag for me, and carried her like a little piglet against my side as I took us home. You know, for a pink little mostly-bald animal, she was a lot of fun to date.

Hugs Aardvark is a purely platonic way, knowing he'll burn for it anyway. While I don't necessarily agree with what you wrote - reading that well-written rant was pure delight. Back to the question at hand. There is a "religion" mentioned in the bible, but it's not what I tend to experience in the world. So I tend to differenciate between religion and spirituality based on usage. Started out in a "church" filled with well-meaning people whom I still love, but the inconsistencies and internal errors didn't fit my idea of a perfect God. About age nine started going out and studying other religions and spiritual systems, examining each one and finding pieces and parts of truth, but too many internal errors. My biggest test if one looked good was to try to put it into operation in my life. A religion should *work* the way it says it does, in my opinion. Ended up about age 20 heading back to the bible with an attitude somewhat similiar to Aardvark's actually. A tad bit angry and disappointed. Started reading the bible, and researching as I had the other religions and systems, putting aside the traditions I'd been taught in "churches", and found a pretty internally consistent handbook for God's relationship with mankind. Not a history book, not a physic's book, a relationship field manual. Put it to the test and it worked. Still is. So I'm going with it still twenty-plus years later. So yeah, I'm a Christian, pretty hard-core about my personal beliefs. However, I figure if God is willing to give everyone else Free Will about what they believe, it sounds okay for me too. I prefer to love people over judging them - I try to leave the judgement to God and the ego-games to people who need them. I'd rather live my beliefs than be preachy about them. Beautiful rant against what people do to people though, Aardvark. Gives him a burning high-five. -Peredhil

Linked Elrohir's date with Alaeha. Two down, one little piggie to go!

Finale. The Pen Keep. Alaeha blinked rapidly, but only saw green and blue afterglows filling all her visions. Elrohir was whooping happily, so she assumed she was safe but didn’t sheath her sword. As her eyes cleared she saw she was in Peredhil’s chambers. Elrohir, ignoring her sword and the look on her face, swooped her up in a hug and swung her around in a circle. “Fantastic! Hope you enjoyed it.” She swung at him with the flat of her blade in response. It whistled over his head as he dropped to his knees and unknotted the cloak. The stone had cooled, and was a deep cerulean blue. Raising it, he smiled up at her impishly. “I didn’t get a corsage… accept a sapphire?” There was a long pause as she looked down at him. “You…” she coughed and cleared her throat. “You certainly know how to show a girl a good time…”

Scene Three. The Temple Chamber. They’d had to give up the Under-sight when the temperatures grew painful to view. Sight became a moot point in a short while, as light returned in the form of flickering reds, whites, and yellows. The parching heated air gave warning, so it came as little surprise to see the chamber’s ceiling held up by mighty pillars of iron stretching off beyond sight, all glowing nearly white with heat. Pools of oil held low flickering blue flames, while gouts of fire vomited randomly from the thousands of holes piercing the floor. Dozens of passages opened out like spokes from a hub. Figures moved like jerky ants across the floor giving proportion and scale to the room. All were horribly covered in burnt flesh, which occasionally split to reveal red filled fissures of fiery blood. Their constant tears were a yellow stream flowing from each eye. Pushing her senses out, she recoiled as she realized they were still alive, and eternally suffering. They drew back into the corridor. “Levitation?” he queried softly. “Problem, uthe cloak!” She nodded. He pointed to himself, his arrows and mimed a figure walking with his fingers. He looked so serious it would’ve been rude to laugh. Pointing at her, he led her back out to the room’s edge and pointed across at an altar. A red glow pulsed like an evil heart. He pointed to her, and then to it. Rather obvious she thought, but it’s nice to be certain. She softly Sang and reached out with her mind riding the subtle melody of her spell, having to worm between the flowing channels of Power which flowed like lava across the room. Over, under, around, she began to wonder if she could do this. The straight-line distance had been far, this winding path was adding critical distance. If the glowing rock or gem weighed more than 40 grams she’d be in trouble. As she strained, sweat instantly evaporating as it formed, Elrohir set a line of arrows point-down in the passage in front of him. Their heads sank into the stone easily. The passage of one of the Burnt Men caused a sudden eddy of Power around the Altar; it brushed her probe slightly as she thrust for the rock. Bells began chiming in bone-jarring dissonance to her spell as she strained to lift and bring the stone back to herself. Burnt Men ran in all directions seeking the threat. The bells rang more loudly as she pulled straight back, tightening her thread of melody ruthlessly, slicing through the Temple’s turgid Power flows as they writhed and slithered to block her. Her hands began to shake with the strain and energy expended; her throat was dry as she sang her power. The stone’s flight was finally noticed, Burnt Men began running in a spasmodic trot toward their passage. She still found to move the stone as Something fought to focus itself enough to block her. She dodged vast fingers whose near misses threatened to burn her spirit from her frame. Arrows began singing rapidly across the floor, bending in arcuate paths to seek the clerics rushing across the floor. As each hit, it exploded into a ball of artic-blue light, shattering the frozen target. Alaeha struggled with the stone, moving it in short jerks in rhythm with her labored breathing, her spell occasionally collapsing down to a sustaining humming. Her mind and throat were sore and she’d pay with a headache and laryngitis later. She was having to push and pull to unstuck the rock, while keeping it above the frantic leaps of the Burnt Ones seeking to reclaim it. Bolts of fire began gushing at their passage, veering in a bubble around Elrohir. He’d had to stop shooting to form the Sigils, however, and the clerics increased their speed. As each one came within range, perhaps 25 meters, it would pause and throw up a two-handed gesture with a resulting stream of fire, or a billowing fireball. The passage was getting a bit too hot for comfort, she thought wryly. Elrohir beat back clerics with his sword now, retreating toward her slowly, utterly on the defense. With a final convulsive effort, the rock lay in her grasp. A faint burn instantly captured and soothed by the cloak she wore. “Elrohir,” she screamed hoarsely. “I have it, let’s GO!” Throwing an arrow at the Burning Cleric in front of him, Elrohir grabbed his bow and retreated after Alaeha. “We need a place I can summon help,” he panted as they ran. “I only get one call so it will have to be good!” She didn’t answer as she followed blindly, all her concentration on holding the stone with her mind as she ran. They quickly outran the Burnt Men, only to turn a corner and run headlong into a group of halberd-bearing orcs coming the other way. “Celebrian!” screamed Elrohir, his blade sweeping out and cleaving a halberd’s shaft with a flash of light. In a moment, he was in the midst of them where their long weapons were at a disadvantage, whirling his weapon in long whipping motions, slashing without binding the blade. Fighting an Elf-lord fired with rage must not have been in the day’s schedule. They fled, with Elrohir pursuing them hotly. It was with visible reluctance he recalled himself to his duty, and came back to Alaeha. She’d used the time to drop the rock onto a corner of the cloak, and knot it securely. “We passed a room on the left when we came through. If I hold the door, will that give you the time you need?” Elrohir smiled his assent and they ran lithely together through the twisting passages. The room was a hole-in-the-wall spot where a natural bubble had formed in the rock, waiting to be uncovered when slaves pushed the tunnels through. Elrohir began inscribing runes on the floor even as he slid to a halt. Singing Bale-fire to flicker a bilious green around one hand, Alaeha held her sword ready in the other. The rustle of enormous scales scraping from the direction they’d been running announced a new player to the party, while the ever-strengthening stench of burning flesh announced the steady progress of the Burning Clerics. A flickering fork of a tongue tasted the air to the left. She sent the Bale-fire globe shooting down the corridor. When it splashed against the tongue, the tongue withdrew and the thrashing shook dust from the walls. Whatever it was had five feet of fork at the end of its tongue. She did NOT want to meet it up close and personally. She resisted the urge to glare over her shoulder at Elrohir, it might distract him. She’d do it later. A wave of heat announced the Burning Clerics; The fireball washed down the passage to explode against the corner at the far end. Wonderful. Maybe the Tongue and the Clerics would fight. She could hope. From behind her came a symphony of voices speaking a Word, a wash of light, and a very solid hand grabbing her arm tightly.

Scene Two. A passage on Another Plane. Alaeha had never seen this side of Elrohir before. Usually he was calm and quiet, yet effective. Kind of like a minor Gyrfalcon in a way. Now she saw him in his element, on a Quest for Right, bantering with Gods and Goddesses, who seemed to compete over his attention and respect. He’d depreciatingly quoted Elladan’s comment in explanation, “’Dan says I’m the slut of the Gods; they all want me.” At times when she blinked, she had afterimages of a bipedal pillar of bluish flame. Elves tended to wear their spirits close to the surface. His time with the Valar had strengthened him greatly, yet it was something more. She suspected that he bore all of Elladan’s rejected spirit as well. They seemed balanced together, fractured apart. All of which musings didn’t keep her from stepping precisely where Elrohir stepped. They’d maneuvered through a number of traps and pitfalls. The Elf seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to them. She’d had little practice in singing her magics here, which bothered her a little. The draw through the Symbol subtly changed things. In their first encounter, with lightening quick were-rats, she’d sung her spell – and managed to set all their eyelashes on fire. NOT what she’d intended. It had been enough though; the sight of Elrohir dancing with his sword was heart-breakingly beautiful. She’d managed to track the first few kills as he’d leapt toward them, ensuring that the battle was away from her. She knew even in her dreams she’d never be able to recreate the strokes which slew the last three. Overall, her magic’s failure to do as she willed was nicely offset by an increased confidence in Elrohir’s abilities. The ease with which he’d drawn the Adept Gate showed he was proficient in magic as well, although he’d used none of it here. The passage narrowed and sloped downward. There were odd ripples in the slime which formed a watery carpet over the large floor stones. As Elrohir paused in suspicion, she looked around warily. As he was about to step forward, she whispered, “Wait.” He looked at her, and followed her finger to gaze on the wall where she pointed. Moving gingerly, he examined the worn spot, and poked at the cracks around it with a thin-bladed dagger. The blade caught on something and he probed delicately until something clicked. A large irregular section of the wall moved several centimeters back into the wall. Pressing lightly on each of the sides, Elrohir positioned himself on the left side and pushed. The stone-covered panel swung back to reveal a narrow passage which immediately turned left and descended as stairs. Elrohir swung around, flashed an incandescent happy grin at Alaeha and gave her a thumbs-up sign. As the moved down the stairs, passing arrow slits and the lever to reset the grate-trap at the bottom of the slide, Alaeha reflected that while Elladan smiled constantly, that was the first true smile she’d ever seen from Elrohir. Withdrawing her blade from the lizard’s head, she thrust into the other eye as she danced away from its spitting counterstrike. Elrohir was somewhere off to her right, using sword and dagger, but this beastie was all hers. Now that it was blinded, she might have the speed advantage. Although she normally relied on magic, she was no stranger to the short sword. Or, as the Giant lizard discovered, to well-planted daggers. It fought empty air even after she’d moved on, too stupid to realize it was dead. Together, she and Elrohir finished the last of the monstrous beast. Looking at the carnage, she began laughing at the look on Elrohir’s face. “What?” She laughed harder. “What?” Gasping for breath, she gestured at the dismembered corpses and the gory room, and then pointed weakly at him, and began chortling again. With a rueful look, rubbed his hand through his hair. “I guess it is a bit silly to be upset that I got blood on my armor, but Dad tends to worry when he sees blood…” He looked a bit wounded at her renewed laughter, until he finally began laughing as well. Wiping his eyes, he began examining the three passages that lead out of the room, while she watched the way they’d come. She narrowed her eyes appraisingly at the flair of magic, bright to her dark-expanded vision. They’d been functioning on the Under-light and Over-light vision since the Undead ambush in the Dark Chamber. Elrohir whispered twisting words as reached through the glowing split in the air and withdrew an unstrung bow and belt quiver of arrows. Closing the Portal, they waited until they’d blinked away the glowing after spots. She could see the warmth of his body contrasting against the cool walls with her Under-sight as he padded close to her. “Sorry about the sudden light,” he whispered. “I want to face this last bit with my best weapon, but hadn’t wanted to tote it through the tunnels.” His breath tickled against her ear. “We’re clothe.” A warm breath against her ear. Lisping the “s” because that sound travels. “May be unguarded, but prolly not. Watch my back?” His hand over her face was the touch of a spicy zephyr, hovering to feel her nod. As he moved out, she noticed in the Over-sight that the glimmer of his outline showed the bow was strung and he carried arrows in his hand.

Yes. My center.