"Come," said Gil-Estel, "let us first get a drink and then I shall explain." He wound his way through the milling crowds until he found the Kaima Inn. "I have stayed here before." He said. "It may not be the grandest of establishments, but it's cosy, and it will serve our purposes." He pushed open the small wooden door and squeezed his way through the large Men inside. Moving his way to the table he usually occupied while in Estolad, a small two seater in the corner of the dingy pub, he sat down and beckoned to the bar maid.

After being served three drinks (one for Gil-Estel, two for Thobos) Gil-Estel laced his fingers and looked at Thobos. "What do you know of the elves Thobos?"

Thobos followed close behind the elf, listening to his words carefully. Though they had finally reached the village they had been traveling towards, Thobos did not feel safe in the least bit. Once they had sat down, and the two drinks were slammed on the table in front of him, his mood changed drastically. Being in the wilderness for so the past few days had nearly brought him to his knees, he had been wanting the taste of alcohol on his lips so much that it was all he could do to sit there calm as it sat in front of him now. A rough right hand grasps one of the cups, and raised it to his mouth. As his lips met the end of the cup, he began sipping lightly on the liquid. Astonishingly he lowered the cup, not even drinking a fourth of the cup he had raised. It would have been completely obvious that Thobos wasn’t comfortable with being intoxicated at the moment; he didn’t trust the situation he was in.

Upon hearing the words, "What do you know of the elves Thobos?" The large man simply stared at the elf’s face, knowing that he really didn’t want this question answered. He could sense that he was just getting his attention, and maybe now he would be about to receive the information he had be trying to pry from the elf for days know. Sitting completely still, Thobos simply sipped on his drink and awaited the elf’s explanation.

OOC: I've invented a character from YOUR past here, but I've left it open, so it could be someone as close as your father or merely someone who lived in the same village as you. If you want I can still change it though.

"When my father was a younger man, the elves played a larger part in the affairs of the other races. But now.. now we are a secretive and private race, what few of our people don't live in our hidden forest cities become lone rangers, ever wandering, never settling or mingling. Someone you knew was very close to the elves, wasn't he? One day, before that person disappeared from the history of the elves completely, he asked us that as soon as we could, we were to deliver a message to you. That message could only be delivered here, in Estolad. I don not know why. That is simply the instruction we recieved. But first, can you tell me, just to satisfy my curiosity. How did you know this man and what was his name?"

A sudden feeling of stupefaction washed over the barbarians face as the elf’s words brought back memories from his grisly past. His eyes closed and pictures and past events began spinning through Thobos’ head, wrinkling his skin and flaring his muscles in the emotions they brought back. As his eyelids began to loosen and open the man began to speak.

“A long time ago, at the beginning of my life in my tribe, I had a brother. He was older than me, but small for his a warrior. My brother believed that ultimate violence wasn’t the only way to survive; that even though we were brutes, we did not have to live a life of battle and we didn’t have to be known for such barbarous acts. His name was Droth, and he is a son of father, and my brother. It is because of him I no longer have a tribe.”

Quietly the words came from Thobos, he stopped sometimes, looking as though he didn’t want to speak on the subject, yet he continued anyway. The past was one thing that he never spoke about. For many years he had tried to live his life simply, attempting to forget the facts that lay within his history. Once his brother’s name was said, it looked as if for a moment the giant brute would shed a tear. Many things he could not say, his brother had raised him to be the man he was today. A warrior father could not accept his older son’s physical weakness, but Thobos saw so much strength in his brother. Long ago, because of this, Thobos had left his home and his father. Once his brother went missing the tribe was no longer his home. So, he left, without his father’s permission, and now he wasn’t able to ever return. This hurt him worse than any physical ailment.

OOC: ahem.. sorry about the awful rhyming thing :S you can decide what it means.

"Droth.." repeated Gil-Estel softly.. "his name is much revered amongst the elves, he was a noble and honourable man. I did not realise that it was he who had left the message, although, now it makes more sense to me... he asked me to give you this message:

The blade that was lost in the fire,
Shall to the wielder return.
But find it by winter's solstice,
Or else ever shall it burn.

At least I think that was it.. does it make any sense to you?"

“The song, I mean, it is a song. When we were in the desert I sang it among others. It’s about a prophecy, the line you spoke, it’s about a weapon. I…..do not know what to say.”

Thobos knew what he was talking about, it was a great weapon. Confusion gripped him as he tried to consider what this message might mean. This was a secret song, not known to all; Thobos was there when it was written by an old woman of his people. The lines echoed through his mind, as he attempted to make sense of their vague descriptions. Thobos violently bashed both tightened fist against the wooden table they sat at.

“I don’t understand.”

The words came muffled from under his throat, he barely held back from screaming the words. He felt so cornered by the words, by their elusive meaning, and everything that he struggled to keep calm.

"I was also bidden to give you this." He held out his hand. In his palm was a small golden brooch, intriquitely weaving vine like shapes surrounded a pure white stone that had been cut into a perfect tear drop shape. "It is a gift, given to friends of the elves. It was your brothers." He handed the small brooch to Thobos. "I was told that this brooch was a key of some sort.. a way to find the song's meaning. Do you know how that works?"

Thobos took the brooch into his hand, and held it in his open palm. His eyes fixed on the small ornament, not able to leave it. Many silent moments passed until Thobos lifted his head.

“You have to understand, I have not even thought about these things for years. It was a long time ago, and may take a long time for me to remember, and otherwise understand. My brother was..well, know that he wasn’t the most honored of my people. When children are born in my land, their size denotes what we expect of them. Droth.”

Thobos didn’t speak for a moment after his brother’s name left his throat. With a forced sign he continued.

“My brother was small, like my people’s human cousins. So, my father always looked down on him, and because of that he was always attempting great things. This is why he befriended your kin.”
Thobos began wandering thought again. As a child he was always twisted between his brother and his people. His dad always told him amazing stories of battle and honor, but his brother told him that true power was from within. That dying in combat was the only thing worth living for. Confusion again began to grip him.

"Tell me everthing you knew of my brother. I have been by your side in combat, and in this journey to this spot, now help me find a way to understand what my brother has parted to me."

Gil-Estel sat for a moment, trying to work out what this could mean. Then, he began.

"There is but one story that would fit this. The story of Beleglang. It's name means the Great Sword in the common tongue but I am unsure of it's name in your language. It was forged one thousand years ago and was said to hold great power and it is rumoured that it could only be wielded by someone of the right bloodline." A look of realisation crossed his face "Your bloodline! It must have been passed through your family, father to son for an age until it reached Droth. Now, one day your brother came to Yomeniampa, my home, and he returned this brooch to our King with the instruction that when your reached the right age, we were to give it to you along with that verse. The brooch must be the key to finding Beleglang and restoring its glory!"

“A great sword….a great blade…lost in fire….”

Thobos couldn’t help but keep zoning out, this was bringing back feelings long suppressed, and faded memories. He knew his father carried a mighty spear, with a long sword-like blade. Also, he could remember tales of a powerful edge that was forged long ago by Dwarven metallurgists. The Barbarians and the Dwarfs held similar codes of honor, and morals, so long ago Thobos’ tribe were friendly with their kind. It began to make sense, what if the Dwarfs created a great blade for their ally’s leader, and it would only make since that he would pass this down to his son. A blade such as this would continue to be passed down until, wait. For a moment complete comprehension flared in Thobos’ eyes. Droth was born small, not large enough to be considered a warrior, so it would make sense the he could not inherit his father’s weapon. Droth was the size of a normal human; he wouldn’t ever be physically capable to wield such a weapon. The confusion of his past, all the fighting between family members when he was young began to make sense.

“It was my father’s blade. Not a sword, but a much larger weapon, though it may have not started as such.”

Thobos was silent for a few moments as he quietly hid the small brooch on his person. He then looked directly at the elf, and began speaking once again.

“Will you help me find my father’s weapon; I’ve little to offer you in return. You will have my friendship, though its value may seem small, it’s all I can give.”

"I will help you." said Gil-Estel, "But we must first wait for my friend. He will be here any moment... I hope." Just then, as if on cue, a large cloaked figure stumbled through the door. He started to walk towards the seated pair. But something wasn't right... suddenly he keeled forward to reveal a large knife protruding from his back. Gil-Estel immediately stood up only to find himself suddenly and inexplicably face to face with the leader of the group of men who had assailed them in Angband. "I thought... but..." he stuttered.

"Thought I was dead did you elf? Thought you'd killed me?" he let out a sharp laugh. "No one can kill me! You were a fool to think that you could accomplish that." he motioned with his hand and in streamed at least thirty men scattering the patrons who ran out, not wanting to be caught in someone else's fight. "There is no way you can succeed this time." he drew his sword and pointed it at the elf, ready for combat. He leaned slowly forwards and whispered something sindarin into the elf's ear. Gil-Estel in turn leant forwards and said in the Man's ear so all could hear, "Nostach be Orch gaer." (You smell like ten orcs)

"If that is your answer, prepare to die, elf!" He swung his sword ready to decapitate Gil-Estel. At the last moment, Gil-Estel unsheathed his knives and parried the Man's blow. The fight had begun.

Everything happening at once, so many emotions burned through Thobos’ mind; His father, Droth, the tribe, all the old memories of his youth. The man has chosen an awfully disastrous moment to agitate the emotion barbarian. A steady hand constricted around the hilt of the scimitar on the table. From there Thobos began moving to fight the men that had barged into the room. With a quick swipe of his left arm Thobos sent the table he had been sitting at flying into a few of the attackers. Standing Thobos simply pulled his scimitar from its sheath allowing the sheath to fall on the ground.

“Fools!”

He roared as he began raising his sword to fight. Rage filled him as he prepared to attack his future victims. The group of men was armed lightly with short swords and small blades of all sorts. Little or metal armor covered the patches of leather worn to protect them. Nothing could protect them, not from this fury that had filled the barbarian. His rage could almost be felt; it nearly hung in the air giving all those around it a feeling of hopeless against him.

At the moment a single man bravely charged the giant man when a single whistle rung out through the air as Thobos’ sword dropped onto him. Catching his attacker between the shoulder and neck the blade swiped downward from the left to the right. The movement was so quick the man couldn’t let out a single scream before he had already fallen. He landed as bodies always do, with a muffled thud followed by a wet dripping sound of the blood that pooled around Thobos where the man had fallen. Gruesome was the only way you could come to describing the fallen man’s wound. Not even taking a second glance at the corpse that lay at his feet, Thobos simply raised his sword, and awaited the next attacker to come within striking distance.

As Thobos dealt with the large group of attacking men, Gil-Estel found himself once more duelling with the leader of the gang. Sword and knives swung around, dancing, blocking, stabbing, but neither duellist managed to make so much as a mark on the other. During a brief pause in the duel, Gil-Estel decided to play for time as he thought of an easy way out of the situation. "Who are you? Why are you trying to stop us?"

"You may call me Moredhel, although that is not my real name. That name I am afraid you shall never know. And as for your second question, I believe you should ask your not so little friend the answer to that one." He motioned to his men to momentarily call of the attack. Weapons were lowered and the Men drew out of reach of attack. "Go on then, ask him, elf."

Gil-Estel turned to face Thobos. Folding his arms he asked, "So, Thobos, who is he and why is he following us?"

Thobos lowers his blade, and turned swords the swordsman Gil-Estel had been fighting. The two men stared at each other for a moment, before the cloaked man pulled the cloth from his hood away from his face. A smirk crossed the man’s face as Thobos’ clearly changed into a horrified, twisted bunch of muscles. His scimitar nearly fell from his hands at his complete shock of who their hunter had been. This would be the third attempt on their life, could have been his brother attempting to kill him.

“DROTH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

The look on Gil-Estel's face changed form confusion to anger to sheer shock in a matter of seconds. "D-D-Droth?" he repeated not sure what to make of the situation. "You mean.. you mean that the man who has been attempting to kill us is.. your brother? And the man who sent us on this quest in the first place? That.. I just.. Why Droth? Why?" Gil-Estel stood staring at the man in wonder. "Why would you send us on a quest and then attempt to kill us before it can be completed? And why on both occaisions did you attempt to kill me before your brother? Unless of course.. you had no intention of killing your brother..." he looked at Droth questioningly.

Droth stood straight, shaking his head at the elf.

“Thobos, could never attack me, and I could never attack him. We are brothers; it is a sacred sin to slay brethren. I do however; intend to bring him back to his tribe. You don’t know my brothers past, he would never do this willingly, but he wouldn’t care. The leader of our small tribe, our chieftain, and our father is dead. He must come to our tribe to take what his father has given him. You are a difficult man to seek, and I never thought you would side with the elves over other criminals. Always like father you hatred the puny weak races of human and elves. You will come with me, whether I have to kill he elf or feed you men to might until you can’t raise your hand. All I want is for you to return to home.”

Thobos shuttered as Droth shouted, knowing he could never go back. How he left his people, it was such a disgrace. The tribe was such a small group of barbarians, just a few left from a village long ago. Though few of them were left they had a strict sense of honor. Leaving the way Thobos had left, it was just a simple disgrace on his name.

"You will not kill me, but nor shall you take this man to a place he does not wish to go. Tell me, what will happen to Thobos should he return?" Gil-Estel just didn't know what to think. He had always heard great things about this man Droth. He had always expected him to be a noble and honourable man but here he was, trying to force someone to return to a place they could not go. What's more, Gil-Estel had heard that it was Droth who had been rejected from his clan for a lack of physical strength, and now here he was trying to bring people back into it. None of it made sense to Gil-Estel, but maybe these barbarian folk led more complicated lives than his people did. Whatever the answer, he thought he deserved to know. "Well, what is your answer Yrchthúl (orc breath)?"

“My kin would shun me. I would be an outcast and unwanted, and very possible that I could be executed. Our system of honor, and leadership, the laws we are taught to live make things seem confusing and monstrous to you. This is just our way of thinking. My brother like much of my kin is heartless. If he doesn’t care for you or doesn’t know you, well you don’t matter. You were a tool for him to find me, since I’m always traveling with different merchants so much, But DROTH, leave this elf alone. He hasn’t done anything to you, and he walks out of this bar right now. I resolve this with you at a later time Gil-Etsel, but I need to go and finish this with my family. I am sorry you were brought into this; my brother has ways of doing incredible things. I don’t know how, he won’t tell."

Thobos lowered to the ground and grabbed his sheath. Standing, quickly, he shoved the blade of his sword into it, and tied it at his hip. There he stood straight and looked at the other men that were going to attack him.

“Aye, at least you all get to live now. Now run on, NOW!”

There was definitely one advantage to being an elf thought Gil-Estel. As Thobos was talking Gil-Estel was forming a plan in his head. When Thobos had finished Gil-Estel walked forward to embrace him. He embraced Thobos, making sure that Thobos's back pocket faced away from Droth he reached into his pocket, took out the small elven brooch and slipped it into his own tunic. "Habo estel." (have hope) he said.

Then turning he fled from the Inn and off down the road all the while making a plan in his head. He would have to travel first to Yomeniempa, there to find out the truth of the story. He could not hope to run all of the way there in time, there was but one hope. Running to the stables he entered and found the horse that had been ridden here by his contact. He smiled, it was his own horse, Rilgilad. He mounted the horse and payed the stable boy. Then he rode off towards Yomeniempa and into the long dark night.

OOC: sorry about the terrible description, I was finding hard to put what I meant :S PM me if you don't get it lol

“There brother it is over. I will return to the mountains within a week’s time. You know my word is good for that. You are as cold as ever, always trying to make up for your short stature. Go away, I will see you soon.”

Thobos spoke loudly, and as soon as his words were finished he walked out. His hand pushed the door open and he turned right out onto the street. Nothing was there to harm him, his brother couldn’t, and his men simply wouldn’t. Thobos walked out for a long time, out of the village.