Board Thread:Forum Roleplays/@comment-25356210-20150709191917/@comment-26295802-20150714143342

Travian awakes to the sound of conversation. But as he listens, he discovers that it is not the voices of orcs, but rather of men: in elvish none the less!

Travian opens his eyes. He lay inside a cave, but it was a warm cave, different from the one he had been kidnapped in. He laid in a dark corner of the cave upon a matress of straw. He looked to his right, and behold! Were his eyes cheating him?? For it appeared as if there was an entire company of knights, armed and armoured in the gear of Dol Amroth. And at their head was. . . nay! It couldn't be: but it was!!! Standing over him was Amrothos, youngest son of Imrahil. The two looked at each other in silent wonder. Amrothos spoke first:

"Travian!" he said "I thought that you fell at the keep with your father and brothers!"

"And I thought you fell at Tirith Aear!" said Travian "How come you here?!?! With a company of Swan-knights, none the less! Where are we, anyways?? Say not that we are in the Great Halls of my fathers. . ."

"Nay, friend!" said Amrothos "You are not dead! Though you would have been if we hadn't ambushed those orcs, seeing they had a captive. . . but ambush we did: we have rescued you, and you are very much alive!

My men? We are all that are left of Dor-en-Ernil. After Dol Amroth fell, I led all the refugees (the thrice damned orcs were too busy feasting in Tirith Aear to pursue) north in hope of a new land where we could restart and rebuild. Through Rohan, past Dunland, and into Eirador and the Lone Lands, we traveled, until here, we found these caves for shelter. Here, with support from the dwindling elves and rangers, we constructed a great and hidden fortress where Numenorean traditions and memory flurishes again. We call ourselves the Swan Rangers, and, launching hit-and-run attacks from our fortress here, we roam the North causing distress to our foes in Angmar with our constant ambushes. We work with the elves and the Rangers of the North, storming The Enemy's caravans in our blue cloaks and shining mail.

This place is Felco-en-Ernil - the Caves of the Prince, our capital. It is greater then the Swan-Mines of Tarlang, Travian! Here we have housing, mine iron, house horses, smelt metals, and all inside a conceled fortress! Dol Amroth may be lost, but here the memory and hope of the South Kingdom lives on! Here, banner of the Swan and Tree still hang inside our dining halls - the banner of the White Tree being the same that was once woven for Lord Aragorn. My father Imrahil, who now dwells in the halls of Mandos, rescued it from the Disaster of Morannon ere he escaped. But there are more important things to discuss, for instnance-

"There's truly an entire city of swan warriors here?!" inturrupted Travian, still awestruck with wonder at seeing his long-lost friend.

"Indeed!" replied Amrothos "Only twenty of the original Swan-knights escaped hither, but they have taught the civilian refugees well: we have six battalions of men-at-arms, three battalions of Nimrodel Rangers, four battalions of pikeman, and a whole battaion of swan-knights. We also have a number of elven warriors that fled from Rivindell. Five thousand troops in all. If my father could only see me now. . ."

Amrothos finished with a sad tone in his voice.

"But I am the new prince of Dol Amroth" he said "and I must look to the future: I do not have time to grieve in the past. My father perished at Tirith Aear, a fitting death for a man of his station. Now I must carry on the tredition of the prince, fighting against the forces of evil until my death or theirs."

It dawned on Travian: Amrothos doesn't know that Imrahil or Elphir escaped the Seige of Dol Amroth!