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PostPosted: Tue Jan 17, 2012 7:41 am 
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Location: Green Hill Country
Season 3 Episode 3

[Cut to tree line on banks of the River Sirion, north of the watchtower. Brush moves, snow lumps of snow fall. A wooden tunnel cover lifts, pushed up by a pair of Elf spears. Elf 1 glances about, then seeing no enemies pulls himself out of the tunnel and looks around more carefully. He is armed with a spear and a long knife. ]

Argon: [whisper, in Quenya] All is clear!

[More Elves emerge from the tunnel. Finrod is one of the first, followed closely by Orodreth, and Edrahil. They look back down the river, where Tol Sirion still burns. Victory cries of the Orcs carry on the night air.

Finrod: [blinks back tears] So, after all our preparation, I am driven like a hare from his burrow. Morgoth, you will regret this night’s work!
Edrahil: [quietly] My lord, let us be away.
Finrod: [firmly] Indeed. We have but two choices before us: to push further north and hope to reach my cousins at Barad Eithel or retreat to Nargothrond. Yet to find safety in the south we needs must escape the watchful eye of the enemy in the Pass….
Gelmir: [optimistically] Perchance they will be too occupied celebrating their victory to notice us…

Edrahil: I would not underestimate this enemy for a second. The shores will be crawling with the enemy already and we will not have the cover of darkness much longer.
Orodreth: [shaken] I do not wish to chance my luck with the Lord of Werewolves again so soon…
Finrod: Then our only other option is to head north…we may pick up further refugees on the way, and there is still hope we can break through to join the High King’s forces
Finrod: Let us follow the river for a bit, and see how close an eye Morgoth is keeping. [to Orodreth, forced cheerfulness] Wait until you see what I have been working on in Nargothrond.

[Finrod turns northward and head off, keeping to the long undergrowth. Elves follow him. . Camera follows Orodreth, who looks back one more time at the destruction on Tol Sirion before continuing upstream.

Camera pan over river banks near the entrance to the Pass. Elves are picking their way across the western side. A large group of Orcs, with several slobbering Werewolves, waits to ambush the Elves at the edge of the valley. Focus in on Elves moving through dense brush at the edge of the River Sirion. They are moving quietly, carefully, but as fast as they can. Elf 1 pushes aside a branch. An Orc scimitar slices at his head. Argon ducks and kills the Orc, but many more appear from the trees. Orcs attack, Elves defend.]

Finrod: [shouted] Fall back! Regroup!

[More Orcs charge from the trees. The ambush is clearly overwhelming. Edrahil kills two with one blow, but more appear to take their places. Orodreth swings wildly, manages to avoid injury and kill Orcs. Elves begin to fall.]

Gelmir: Quickly, into the river! They will not follow us into the water. [jumps in and strikes out against the current. Orodreth follows suit. ]

[Camera swings back to action on the river bank: an Elf hesitates, is caught by an Orc and thrown to Werewolves. He screams. Other Elves dive into the river and swim upstream. Orcs and Werewolves try to follow them, but the cold, deep water stops them. Orcs and Werewolves scream, howl, and shoot arrows at the escaping Elves in frustration.

Camera focus on Orodreth swimming against the current. An Orc throws a spear at him. Orodreth avoids the spear, but moves into the fastest part of the stream. Water roars as Orodreth fights the current. Orodreth tries to call out, but the stream is too loud and fast. He cannot draw enough breath to call for help.

Camera shift to elves moving upstream, back to Orodreth as he is continues to fight. Current pushes Orodreth down, exit bottom right. Camera shift upstream as Elves swim. The water is dark and cold, but moonlight catches their wet hair and clothing. Camera follows Elves as the current pulls them toward shore and they leave the river on the west bank. Mountains loom screen left. ]

Finrod: [surveys group as they emerge from the water] How many are well?
Gelmir: How do you define “well”? [wrings water from his hair] I think my bow is spoiled.
Gwindor: Before you complain too much, the river escape was your idea.
Inglor: And a lucky one it was, too. As long as we do not all freeze to death!
Edrahil: [concerned Maybe not so fortunate – where is Orodreth?[camera focuses on Finrod, looking around, concerned]
Finrod: [calls softly] Orodreth? [louder] Orodreth!

Argon: [panting] My lord, I saw him battling against the current…he was furthest from the shore, but I lost sight of him in my own struggle.
Edrahil: [curses] I doubt he is the strongest of swimmers and the current is swift here… [elves spread out along the river bank searching for sign of Orodreth]
Finrod: [under his breath, anxiously] Do not let him be harmed. I am not ready to say farewell just yet. [as no sign can be found of Orodreth, the elves start calling out his name]

Edrahil: Ai! Quiet! [whisper] Have you all forgotten where we are? [points to Tol Sirion, just visible down river. Fires glow in the mirk.] All our efforts so far will be for nothing if we are caught so close to home.
Gelmir: All that for nothing. Poor Orodreth…
Edrahil: Rest easy... [places hand on Finrod’s shoulder.] He may yet surprise us. That young sapling is made of stern stuff, just like his uncle. We can do nothing but hope that he can survive the cold and head for the shore further downstream. Our only choice now is to reach safety and rest ourselves. [to Finrod] You do have a plan for that, do you not, my lord?

Finrod: [slow nod] The western bank is too heavily guarded…it seems we have no chance of reaching Barad Eithel for the time being. We will take the Rivil river at the Fens and head back south through Dorthonion. After all, the distance we must cover before we reach the land of our kinsmen will be shorter. [silence. Camera pan over Elves, all looking at Finrod, some nodding.]

Gwindor: And you think a path through land we know our foes have already covered will be safe?
Finrod: Not safe, surely, but safer than trying to run through their lines as they advance. Besides, I doubt my cousin Maedhros will allow our foes to long hold what they have taken. He may already have drawn their attention away from us.
Edrahil: May Manwë hear your words!
Finrod: [nods] Let us start. Walking will warm us more safely than a fire would.

[Camera follows Elves along shore. Camera shift up to sky clouded with dark smoke. Several stars peek through the smoke, a few stars twinkle more brightly. A shadow image of Varda’s face appears in the stars and seems to watch the Elves as they move along the shore. Fade.]

* * * * * * *

[Fade in to scene of Sindar, in twos and threes, weaving through the Forest of Neldoreth with gentle laughter to a pleasant glade. They are gathering to hear Daeron, the master harpist, who can charm a song from the wind. Among them are Celeborn and Galadriel who nestle together against the smooth trunk of one of the beech trees, arms entwined.

Enter Elu Thingol holding his queen, Melian by the hand. They nod at Daeron, who sits on a grassy dais, hands poised over the strings of his harp. Camera pans round beyond them as their now grown up daughter, Lúthien, approaches, a cloud of black hair falling untamed about her shoulders, eyes brighter than the evening star. She is the most beautiful child of Eru the world has yet known. Briefly, she glances at Daeron, holding him enthralled. There is an expectant stillness.

Tenderly, Daeron plucks the strings, releasing a cascade of sonorous notes…the crowd sighs. In a light and pure tenor voice, he sings of Cuiviénen in the morning of the world, of shining waterfalls that widened into clear pools, and foamed, flower-laden, towards the sea. The tune changes to a minor key and Daeron sings of a fair maid dwelling by the waters, who has captured a youth's heart, and because she knew it not, paid him no heed. Camera pans up to the night sky, and the canopy of stars as Daeron sings of longing and unrequited love. As the camera pans around the enraptured audience we see that couples draw close, and other listeners have tears on their cheeks.

Daeron bows his head as his song ends…there is silence for a heartbeat, then Melian breaks the spell, leading the applause.]

Melian: A masterpiece, beloved minstrel! Truly music pours from you as life flows from Yavanna. You have captured all the yearning beauty of the Awakening in this piece. [Daeron bows even lower, shyly acknowledging the praise. The audience move to congratulate Daeron but he seems anxious to escape from the plaudits. He approaches Celeborn and Galadriel]

Celeborn: A most worthy effort, Daeron…each phrase was a revelation. I particularly admired the part that sounded like the shimmering of a thousand shooting stars-
Daeron: [whispers] -Is it good enough for her, do you think?
Celeborn: [looks confused, follows Daeron’s gaze] …for Lúthien?
Daeron: Who else? Just for her have I crafted this song, laboring long into the night. It had to be perfect. She understands the music…she knows what it says…
Galadriel: [smoothly] It would move the mountains themselves to weep. She would be a fool not to adore it. Did she not offer her praise with the rest?

[Daeron does not answer, eagerly seeking Lúthien’s approving glance amongst all the admiring faces…but it seems she looks past him, as if perceiving another melody from afar. He wanders off, crestfallen.]

Celeborn: [shakes head] I fear that even though Daeron hopes for Lúthien's affection, she pays no attention to him…
Galadriel: [nods, perturbed] I sense that her destiny and her heart lie elsewhere. [fade…]

* * *

Fade in on the silent forest of Neldoreth in the cold, dark hours before Dawn… camera moves through the trees and across the bridge over the Esgalduin,into the thousand caves of Menegroth which lie quiet beneath slumber. In the guarded chamber of Thingol and Melian gems stud the ceiling, gleaming with their own faint light. Tapestries of bright scenes dress the walls – images of the Valar and Maia in youthful joy, dancing to honour the sapling Trees. Under silken sheets heavily embroidered with gold thread, Thingol lies beside his wife, dreaming...

Cut to scenes inside Thingol’s dream, as viewed through his eyes:
We see Lúthien as a little child, sitting by the edge of a pool, singing a prattle of childish words, in a sweet, unformed voice, her black hair tangled and spilling about her smooth, round face… She looks up at her father’s approach and smiles broadly. Her bare feet kick with laughing abandon at the water, spraying droplets of water like a cascade of rainbow jewels.. Her spirit fills Doriath with laughter… She jumps up and runs towards Thingol, but trips and grazes her knee. She calls for her Ada, yet there are no tears… he gathers her in his arms and kisses the hurt better. We hear him promise her that he will keep her safe always, but she giggles and slips from his grasp, dancing away again. Thingol sighs: His little girl...

Now scene changes, becomes darker…we feel the approach of something, dark in the impenetrable shade of the starlit woods; cold, unstoppable as destiny. Thingol tries to call out:
Lúthien! Lúthien, run away, make haste! But his shout of panic barely whispers in the silence. Lúthien laughs, heedless, as the branches sway and the monster creeps closer.

We hear Thingol struggling to breath, as though a weight is on his chest…he cannot move as he watches the creature emerge from cover. We see that this creature is of the race of Men, a lumbering creature, dirty ,with matted hair but Lúthien is not scared, leaping lightly to her feet and turning to face the intruder with all the impudent curiosity of her pure young heart. The fearlessness of innocence shines brightly in her wide eyes. The creature comes close to her and touches her with its dirty hands, lifting her up as though it understands what a treasure she is. Lúthien gives it a look of adoration in return, offers up her lips to kiss him…

We feel the red spike of jealousy and fury erupt through Thingol, along with his fear:
No!! Mine! She is mine. Do not touch her! He rages silently, helplessly. The Man creature releases Lúthien, dropping her on the dirt, like a splintered twig, and she lies utterly still.

Thingol: [screams in his sleep] NO!
[He wakes, twisted into his sheets, trembling and sobbing, inconsolably. His breathing is ragged, and his skin cold and clammy…he grits his teeth and clenches his fists, struggling to stop the shameful tears. To himself:] Just a dream. It is not real…
[Falteringly, he forces his laboured breathing to slow. Reaching out, he flings the heavy covers off him, swinging his legs out of bed, his face driven, haunted.]

Melian: [roused from sleep] My Lord? [Her voice is soft with slumber and concern] What ails thee?
Thingol: Lúthien…I have to go to our daughter's room and make sure she is… [hesitates] I just want stand beneath the door frame, and watch her, like we used to…you remember? How we marvelled at the blissful innocence of her sleep… [falters] I need to reassure myself that she is well.
Melian: [frowning] Why would she not be sleeping? What harm can come to her here? Nothing evil can come through the Fence of Doriath…I will never permit any evil into our land that would hurt our daughter.
[Thingol shakes his head, sits disconsolately on the edge of the bed. puts his elbows on his knees, and lowers his head into his hands, he sighs]

Thingol: I am just being foolish - forgive me…it was only a bad dream. I had a nightmare, nothing more. I dreamt that a creature, surely one of the Afterborn, entered Doriath, and Lúthien embraced it willingly before it sucked the life from her…and I was helpless to prevent it - my warnings died in my throat, my body seemed frozen in time, I could not move to reach her. I have never felt so powerless, so helpless...
Melian: [lays her hand on his back, kneading the knotted muscles] If it is a true dream it will come many times. If it comes but once, then it is a phantom thing of no account, which you should not let yourself be troubled with. Go back to sleep and see.
Thingol: [appalled, shifting swiftly to face her] How could it be true? No Man shall enter Doriath while my realm lasts, not even those of the house of Bëor who serve Finrod the Beloved. [voice catches] My Lúthien…I would willingly pass to Mandos before I would see her hurt.

Melian: [leans up on one elbow, her hair in a long, shimmering ebony braid behind her. Her face is radiant and wise.] The world moves on swiftly beyond our realm, whether we will it or not, and Doom greater than my power holds sway...One of Men, even of Bëor’s house shall indeed come, and the Girdle of Melian shall not restrain him. Yet the songs that spring from his coming shall endure when all Middle-earth is changed. Be at ease, my Love…all lies in Eru’s hands.
Thingol: [smiles weakly] I am too old to be so affected by night terrors. I will do as you say. [lays back down, gathering her into his arms]
Melian: [murmurs] [color=blue] Sleep well then, my lord… [color=blue] [relaxes slowly into sweet, contented slumber…camera focuses on Thingol lying awake, looking open eyed into the darkness...Fade.]

* * * * * * *

There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes

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PostPosted: Wed Jan 18, 2012 7:26 am 
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Location: Green Hill Country
[Fade in on Fens of Serech. It is day, but the sky is dark with clouds and a mist rises from the swamp. Tall reeds and tufts of grass, all limp and brown, stand above frosted muck. Camera focus on Finrod and Elves moving carefully through the marsh. They are picking a path, occasionally drawing back when the ground proves not to be solid under their feet. They look cold, stiff, and tired.

Camera pan over Fens. There is movement in the tall reeds surrounding the Elves on three sides. Camera focus on movement screen front of Elves. Orc faces and the gleam of Werewolf eyes peer through the mist.
Camera focus on dark shapes moving through rocky slopes at the edge of a foggy, frozen marshland. The figures are bulky, hairy, and somewhat stooped. Early morning light gleams off edged weapons, but we cannot see who they are yet. Camera focus on Barahir, crouched beside Gildor and Emeldir. Barahir stands slowly, others follow. Gorlim, Beren and Dagnir join them, crouching low. Other Men follow and gather close.]

Beren: What the ---!
Emeldir: --Mind your language!
Beren: But can they not see –
Barahir: Quiet!
Gildor: [to Barahir] My lord?
Dagnir: It will be a long run to reach them in time.
Gildor: And we do not know if they be friend or foe as like to turn on us as the foul Orcs.
Beren: Of course we will help them. [looks at Barahir, then back to Gildor] We are supposed to be the heroes here.
Dagnir: That idea of “Hero” will see you dead before you have a chance to go gray, boy!
Gildor: They may be joining their forces, the better to capture us in this mess.
Gorlim: [loud mutter] For a chance to get those foul things I would run to the sea, if needed.
Emeldir: [to Gildor] Yet, if this be an ambush, the longer we delay the less aid we will be able to offer.
Barahir: [glances at Dagnir and Gildor, the over the marshland. Camera follows his gaze, focuses on dark shapes of Finrod’s Elves] We help them. [motions with spear.]

[Men move from the rocks, begin to run across the marsh. Camera follows them, then shifts to far edge of marsh where Finrod’s Elves have engaged first group of Orcs. Shift to second group of Orcs and Werewolves, now coming at a run. The distances between both sets of reinforcements look almost equal. Cut.]

Finrod: [shouts] Fall back! Regroup!
[Elves fall back and form defensive position. Some Elves attempt to shoot at the Orcs, but their bows are spoiled by the swim. Seeing the Elves without their bows, Orcs cheer and charge gleefully. Werewolves howl from Right, then charge. Elves stagger.]
Edrahil: Astaido! [subtitled: Help us!]

[Werewolves loom over Elf shields. Arrows fly from behind the attackers. Werewolves howl, Orcs scream as they fall. Men charge in, shouting and swinging blades. Some of the Men are armed with swords or spears, many have bows and long hunting knives. The Orcs and Werewolves fight desperately, and the situation descends into chaos. Camera focus on Men, Orcs, and Werewolves stepping into fen pools and being sucked down, helpless.]

Finrod: Who comes to our aid?
Edrahil: I know not! [fends off Orcs with sword] And I care not!

[Camera shift to Gelmir. A werewolf moves behind Finrod, who is distracted by Orcs in front of him. Gelmir swings at Werewolf’s back, but the wound is shallow. Werewolf turns, furious. Gelmir loses his sword and staggers back, stumbles, and lands in the marsh. Beren jumps from the bank, screaming, and shoves his sword into Werewolf’s chest. Werewolf staggers and falls face first into marsh, taking Beren’s sword with it as the fens suck the werewolf down.

Gelmir climbs to his feet, finds his sword and pulls a long knife. Gelmir’s eyes widen. He shoves Beren aside and throws the knife at an Orc who was about to skewer Beren with a spear. Beren lands in mud.]

Beren: My thanks! [climbs out of mud]
Gelmir: You are welcome. [braces for fight. Beren pulls knife out of Orc and joins Gelmir, back to back.

Camera focus on Beren and Gelmir, back to back. The bodies of dead Orcs and Werewolves pile up around them, but the more they kill the more attack them. As their enemies increase in number, Beren and Gelmir shift from attack to defense. They concentrate on fending off blows, and are driven back to the edge of the swamp where thick brush and young trees separate them.

Camera focus on Beren, blocking blows. Beren backs into a small tree, swears, throws Gelmir’s knife at the Orc directly in front of him and charges, screaming a war cry. Beren keeps his head low, retrieves the Elf knife as he runs past, swings both blades furiously, and runs as fast as he can until he breaks through the ring of Orcs and rejoins the main fight.

Camera focus on Gelmir, fighting hard. Orcs surround Gelmir. Gelmir slashes an Orc across the face, pushes Orc back and dodges for freedom. He almost makes it, but Orc 1 catches his long hair and twists the coil around his fist. Orc 1 jerks back, Gelmir stumbles and loses his sword. Gelmir strikes with his fists, but Orc 2 catches one arm and twists it behind his back. Orcs close in, laughing.
Camera cut to Barahir and Emeldir working together. Emeldir carries a large shield, which she uses to guard Barahir while he swings a two handed sword. Gorlim, Urthel, and Radhruin are with them. A large Orc smashes Emeldir’s shield with a hammer, and it shatters. Emeldir rams the sharp broken end into the Orc, drops the shield and picks up the Orc’s hammer. The weight of the hammer staggers her.]

Barahir: Get out of this!
Emeldir: I will not leave you! [swings hammer, smashes two Orcs together. Regains her balance and tries again.]
Urthel: Lady! [hands Emeldir his axe, takes hammer. Swings hammer, an Orc’s head bursts open. Laughs.] Most effective…I like this!

[They continue the fight. Emeldir shows skill with the axe. Barahir cuts through Orcs like a madman, launches himself at a group of Orcs who are attacking a pair of Elves. Barahir slashes two Orcs aside. Camera focus on Finrod, on his knees but defending himself, and Edrahil trying to aid him.]

Edrahil: Can you rise, my lord?
Finrod: I believe so. [stands, blood trickles from his side and one leg.]

[Orcs push against the defense, partly in rage to reach the Elves and partly because they are being attacked from behind by Men. Elves defend, but are pushed into a small bunch and begin to hamper each other. Camera focus on an Orc who rears over Edrahil, grinning, as he is about to spear the Elf. Barahir’s boar spear erupts through the Orc’s chest. Orc looks surprised. Barahir kicks Orc off of his spear and turns to defend Elves. Emeldir and Radhruin flank him. Man 1 turns to stand beside Radhruin, but is armed only with hunting knives. An Orc spears Man 1 before Radhruin can react. Man 1 screams.]

Barahir: [shouting] Long blades or bows! Our foes have spears! Use them!

[Orcs roar in rage as Men push through. Some Men toss aside their hunting knives and grab Orc spears. Men with bows kneel beneath the spears and fire into the crowd of Orcs and Werewolves.]

Orc Captain: The fools are bunched at our centre! We will feast on warm flesh tonight!
[Orcs and Werewolves press, gain a few steps, and are driven back. They repeat, and are again repulsed. Camera focus on Barahir and Radhruin, both pushed back into Finrod and Edrahil. Finrod reaches over Barahir’s shoulder to slash the claw off a Werewolf. Finrod is sprayed with blood from screen right. Camera focus on Emeldir, recovering her axe after beheading another Werewolf.]

Barahir: [to Finrod] Meet my lady wife.
Finrod: [to Emeldir] A pleasure!

[Cut to Orc Captain, bloody from several shallow wounds, screaming in rage.]
Orc Captain: The Elf lord is within our grasp!
Orc 1: Would you see us all dead here?
Orc Captain: Would you tell our Master that we let the Elves slip through our fingers? No retreat!

[Orcs press once more, and do not fall back as Men resist. Men and Elves slash and stab, Orcs fall. Camera focus on Radhruin and Gildor, who each kill and Orc and spin to find themselves facing each other. Tbey grin…]

Radhruin: [glances around. Most of the Orcs and Werewolves are either dead or running] I think this fight is over.
Urthel: Bah! Of all the luck…I was just getting the hang of this thing. [lifts hammer]
Gildor: [ruefully] Giant!
Urthel: Weakling!
Barahir: [winded] Radhruin! How many did we lose?

[camera focuses on Gwindor, looking around, concerned:]
Gwindor: Gelmir? [louder] Gelmir!
Inglor: I saw him with one of the Men. They were near the edge of the battle, but I lost them in the melee.
Gwindor: [color=blue] [anxious]
then let us search for him! Our father will not forgive me if I leave my brother to die in some forsaken wilderness… [Elves start searching among the reeds. camera pans back towards Men]
Radhruin: [shouts] Dagnir! Casualties?
Dagnir: [enters left] Two dead, perhaps ten seriously wounded. Our archers turned the odds for us.
Barahir: Are any missing?
Radhruin: [looks to Dagnir who shakes his head.]
Finrod: approaches, Edrahil at his side.] we have lost one of our number
Barahir: He is not among the slain?
Edrahil: We are still searching, my lord.

Beren: [approaches, ruefully.] Father…I regret to say that I have been careless with my sword. It now rests at the bottom of this accursed swamp, The only saving grace is that it shares that honour with several of these foul creatures of Morgoth. There was a young elf who fought bravely beside me and saved me from a skewering. If it had not been for him I would have joined my weapon in its resting place! Where is he? I would thank him properly…
Finrod: We were hoping you could tell us…he is missing, yet does not appear to be among the slain.
Beren: [pales] I regret that I do no know. The fighting was furious…I did not see what happened to him after he covered my error…
Barahir: Then we will look for him. Living or dead, we will find him! But if he fell into this morass he may have been... [places hand on Beren’s shoulder.] We will find him. Of course we will! [to Finrod] In the meantime, you need that leg seen to. [gestures to Gorlim] Gorlim! your wife has a neat hand – get her to look at the Elf Lord here… [Gorlim leads off; Edrahil supports Finrod as they trail behind him. Cut.]

* * *

[Cut to edge of Fens. It is approaching dusk, and the air is heavy with ash and smoke from the eruptions at Angband. Women and Children approach warily, looking for their loved ones. Camera focus on Gorlim, who looks through the crowd until he sees Eilinel, then goes to her.]

Gorlim: [embraces Eilinel] You were worried.
Eilinel: I was not.
Gorlim: Yes, you were. [kisses her lightly] I told you I would never leave you. No matter how long it takes –
Eilinel: No matter how dark things seem –
Gorlim: No matter how far I have to travel, I will find a way to come back to you. [they kiss] Now I have to go. An elf has gotten himself lost. And another here needs your tender care. I hope there is something good for supper…maybe roast pheasant?
Eilinel: [shakes head, smiling] And a bottle of Elven wine! [Camera follows Gorlim, exit right.

Cut to Fens. Men and Elves search for Gelmir. Some call, others shift reeds and grass as they search for bodies at the edge of the battle. Eventually the light falls too low and the search is abandoned. Inglor consoles Gwindor who is visibly distressed. Cut]

* * *
[Fade in on makeshift camp, in the wooded land beside the River Rivil in the foothills of Dorthonion. There are shelters made from saplings and brush. Men, women, and children cook food, mend weapons, tend horses. There is little division of labour. Shift screen left as Wounded enter, accompanied by Finrod and Edrahil. Food is brought to them, and some from the camp help the wounded. Edrahil helps Finrod to a cloak spread on the ground. Eilinel kneels beside Finrod with a covered basket. Eilinel takes bandages, a pair of bottles, a needle and thread, a rough knife, and a thin knife from the basket. ]

Edrahil: What means this?
Eilinel: [color=blue] [concentrates on Finrod]
He is wounded. I am here to help. [cuts Finrod’s breeches with rough knife to open the cloth]
Edrahil: [to Finrod] My lord! I would not trust –
Eilinel: --I may be no Elf, but I have skill in tending the hurts given by blades.
Edrahil: [in Quenya] I would not use such blades on a rabbit I meant to stew.
Eilinel: [to Finrod] You are the one bleeding, my lord. If I clean and dress your wound without much delay you should have full use of your leg within two weeks. [pulls cloth open to reveal an ugly, jagged tear in Finrod’s thigh] Shall I continue?
Finrod: [to Edrahil, in Quenya] . I thank you for your concern, but now I am as safe as I may be. I trust myself to her care. [to Eilinel] Lady, do as you will.

[Edrahil bows and exits left. Eilinel cuts a piece of bandage, soaks it with the liquid from one bottle, and begins to clean the wound. Focus of Finrod, biting back pain and clutching the cloak he is sitting on.. Fade.]

* * * * * * *

There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes

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PostPosted: Wed Jan 18, 2012 11:11 pm 
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Location: Green Hill Country
[Cut to Sirion, entering Dimbar. Orodreth is exhausted, still fighting current but losing. He is pulled under, resurfaces, and goes under again. Camera shift downstream, where a large branch is bobbing on the current and heading straight for Orodreth. Shift back to Orodreth as he resurfaces and manages to catch the branch. He drapes over it and sighs, exhausted, as the water sweeps him exit bottom right.

Camera pan over Plains of Dimbar. A large group of Elves enters, top right, and crosses screen. They look exhausted and battered, bloody, and some are wounded. Shift to front, Celegorm and Curufin lead with Huan beside Celegorm. Huan’s head is low, he is as tired as his master.]

Celegorm: [raises head] I think I see the river. That has to be a good sign.
Curufin: Remind me again where we are going?
Celegorm: Do I look like I have a plan for this?
Curufin: Well, I was hoping.
Celegorm: [pats Huan, drinks from a flask. Offers Huan some, Huan drinks] The river, for now. That will give us fresh water, and something secure to put our backs to while we rest and mend our wounds.
Curufin: We have passed at least three rivers on this march, you know.
Celegorm: You are in a grumpy mood, brother. [offers flask]

Curufin: [grimaces] I have my own. And even if I did not, do you think I would drink after your dog?
Celegorm: Why not? His mouth is cleaner than yours.
Curufin: Then let me rephrase; do you think I would drink after you?
Celegorm: Well, if you still have wine why not drink some and cheer up. It will help you see our situation with a clearer mind.
Curufin: I see our situation clearly enough: We have been driven from everything we managed to build in this land by an army of monsters so large the limit of the host was beyond our sight. Dorthonion has fallen, as we know from the babbling of the few survivors we encountered during our own flight. Our foe has allied himself with not only Orcs, demons of flame, and these latecomers who, though they are weak individually seem to reproduce in great numbers, but also with some sort of monster lizards that fly and breathe flame if the stories are correct.

Celegorm: Are you planning to stop for breath any time soon?
Curufin: [glares] Of our brothers we have heard nothing save that Maedhros and Maglor are surely lost. To the south of where we now stand, lies the powerful kingdom ruled by Thingol and his Maia wife: thanks to our cousins confessions of the kin-slaying we have angered him so that we will get less welcome from his people than we would get from a party of ravenous Orcs. Have I missed the path thus far?
Celegorm: [shakes head]

Curufin: To sum up our predicament, we cannot go either forward or back with any hope of success. To the south we have an enemy we ourselves created…and to the north, we have a rogue Vala who dearly desires to murder us and all our kind. Have I missed anything?
Celegorm: [shifts cloak] Only that you forget others of our kin that do not dwell so openly in these lands. To the north somewhere [points vaguely with bow] we know cousin Turgon has built a fortified city hidden in those mountains. He and Aredhel may well welcome us on the strength of past friendships…
Curufin: [shakes head,] And you forget Elenwë…Turgon would make our stay most uncomfortable.

Celegorm: Indeed, that rules that out. Then our only hope is to the southwest, beyond this forest: our cousin Finrod has built a fine city in caves that will provide us shelter and safety. We have been friends since we were children, not to mention the tie of blood that binds us and seals our welcome.
Curufin: Unless he still holds a grudge about that little trip over the ice and some burning ships, you mean.
Celegorm: He may, but this new assault visited upon us by our common enemy will surely have lessened his anger.
Curufin: Assuming he and his people do not remember wrongs as we do… [Huan lifts his head, barks loudly, and bolts screen left. Camera shift left, focus on River Sirion at edge of frame. River is running fast and loud, with haystacks spraying.]

Celegorm: The river at last! [watches Huan for a moment] What has he found?
Curufin: Perhaps the enemy has beaten us to our refuge.
Celegorm: I think not. [trots, then runs to Huan. Camera follows.] What is that? [points at dark spot near middle of river, top left of screen. Elves gather around them.]
Elf 1: [squints] ‘Tis surely only a log.
Elf 2: [draws bow] Perhaps the enemy means to take us unawares.
Curufin: [ pushes Elf 2 arm so that arrow points at ground] How many Balrogs can hide in a single branch? [squints at log, frowns] By all the Valar! [jumps into river]

Celegorm: [alarmed] Curufin - No! [grabs for Curufin, misses and nearly falls into river. Elf 1 and Elf 2 catch him. Huan barks loudly.]
[Curufin swims toward branch, but the current is too strong for him to fight. He is thrown against rocks, sucked under haystacks, resurfaces gasping. He changes direction and angles for a point downstream, working with the current and tacking toward the branch.]

Celegorm: frantic] A rope! Throw me a rope! [Cut to shore. Elves scramble for a rope, but there is none. Elf 1 and Elf 2 pull off cloaks, Celegorm ties them together. Elves make a rope out of cloaks and tunics.

Camera shift to river. Curufin catches the branch. Orodreth lays face down on wood. Curufin grabs Orodreth around the chest, and starts for shore, tacking with the current but still getting tossed around badly. Shift to bank, Celegorm uses his own cloak broach to weight the end of the makeshift rope, swings broach. ]

Celegorm: [throws rope] Come on, you…spawn of… [Curufin misses, loses Orodreth, catches him again but is swept further downstream and slammed into a haystack. Curufin grunts, Orodreth cries in pain.]

Celegorm: [retrieves rope, glances at sky] May Oromë guide my aim! [color=blue] [swings rope again. This time Curufin catches the clasp and manages to keep hold of Orodreth. Elves pull rope in, grab both Curufin and Orodreth, and haul them onto shore. Some Elves retrieve dry cloaks, others build a fire and set up shelter.]

Celegorm: Who have we here? [turns Orodreth over] Tulkas’ might!!

[Cut to Orodreth’s face. His lips are blue, his skin is pale. His mouth falls open. He gasps loudly and begins to cough. Cut.]

* * *

[Cut to camp on banks of Sirion. Focus inside shelter made of cloaks fastened on spears. A fire burns near the entrance, Curufin and Orodreth lay under a pile of reeds and grasses. Huan lays beside Curufin, tail wagging. Celegorm enters right, stepping around fire, carrying a steaming cup.]

Celegorm: [forced cheerful] So there you are, you lazy lay-a-bed.
Curufin: [sits up, pats Huan. Curufin’s chest is wrapped tightly in strips of cloth.] Leave him alone. He is a fine fellow.
Celegorm: I was speaking to you, as a matter of fact! [hands Curufin the cup] Here. This will warm you from the inside.
Curufin: [drinks]
Celegorm: [choked with emotion] What did you think you were doing? I am supposed to be the reckless one! Yet you jump into a freezing river and nearly get swept to the sea – That is where we would have been looking for you, you know that? We would have been asking Círdan if he had seen a numbskull who thought he was a trout!
Curufin: I am well enough, you know.
Celegorm: I listened to you earlier. It is my turn to rant now! [Curufin nods] And you are not ‘well enough.’ You broke three ribs in that river, in case that fact is as yet beyond your ken! As if we have not lost enough of late, you endeavour to try and rob me of a brother! Was it your intention for such dread to seize me whilst you were in that river? Did you truly mean my heart to stop?
Curufin: No, Mother…
Celegorm: And then, to round it all off nicely, you come out of it the great hero! I cannot even beat you for the stress you caused me.
Curufin: [confused] What?
Celegorm: Do you not know who it was you saved from the river?
Curufin: I was rather busy for introductions. [finishes cup]

Celegorm: That, my dear brother, is our cousin Orodreth. He woke some time ago and told us how he came to take a spring swim while you were still snoring.
Curufin: He survived? Then perhaps Angrod and Aegnor –
Celegorm: [shakes head sadly] No. Orodreth is now Lord of Dorthonion, if ever he can regain his inheritance. More importantly, he is under the care of Finrod, Lord of Nargothrond.
Curufin: [nods slowly] So if we were wondering which direction to take . . .
Celegorm: [nods firmly] We will head south as soon as we are rested. No doubt Finrod will welcome us warmly, as we bring his wandering lamb home. Perhaps your heroism will even help heal the ill-will between our house and Fingolfin. It would be good to have our uncle’s counsel now.
Curufin: [nods, lays back] True. Yet, for all his fair words I am not certain he ever forgave any of us in his heart. Nor am I certain we deserve forgiveness, in truth.
Celegorm: We cannot worry about that now. [pats Orodreth] Sleep well, young prince. If you fortunate enough to come out of this adventure with nothing more serious than a lung full of water and a bad chill then you will be our key to regrouping ourselves in peace.

* * * * * * *

[Cut to Barahir’s Camp, in twilight. Men and Elves are eating, relaxing. Shift to Sentries posted at intervals some distance in the brush. Shift to Camp, focus on Barahir and Emeldir sitting with a group of Men, Finrod and Elves clustered together at a distance and speaking low, Gorlim and Eilinel together, other couples and families clustered around small fires. Camera shift to Beren, moving through the camp with a leather flask in one hand and a spitted rabbit in the other. Beren joins Gwindor, who is sitting at the edge of the camp, lost in thought.]

Gwindor: Have you had enough of their talk?
Beren: More than. Let us honour your brother. [hands Gelmir the flask]
Gildor said this was something special. A drink for real warriors.
Gwindor: [drinks, chokes]
It feels like a dragon’s fire down my throat!
Beren: [takes flask, drinks more cautiously. Eyes water.]
Something special all right. [offers rabbit]

Gwindor: Shattering, if that is what you call it. [tears meat, chews thoughtfully]
I have to confess I know little of the race of Men. Is this how you normally eat?
Beren: Not before we lost our homes. I imagine it is not what you are used to.
Gwindor: What do you mean by that?
Beren: You are the not first Elves I have met…the Noldor of Dorthonion live simply, like us within their strongholds. But I have heard stories of the kingdom of Nargothrond… I imagined you live in a grand palace, ate bread lighter than air and fresh fruit all year –
Gwindor: And I believed all Men were hairy, filthy, rude brutes.
Beren: Now filthy, hairy and rude I will give you. No argument there. [lifts flask, drinks. This is a challenge. Passes flask]

Gwindor: [drinks, coughs. Both laugh.

A scream from left startles everyone. The severed head of a sentry is thrown into the fire. Camera shift left, Orcs charge into camp smashing shelters and swinging spears at anything moving. Men and Elves scramble to defend. Cut to Beren who jumps up, avoids Orcs, and arms himself quickly. The scene is chaos. Barahir and Finrod shout orders and try to gather their people. Some women attack Orcs with weapons or cooking spits, whatever they can get their hands on.]

Barahir: To me! Guard yourselves!

[An Orc seizes a woman and tears at her clothing. Orc laughs. Urthel smashes Orc with his warhammer. Orc falls, woman runs screaming.]

Dagnir: We must move the women and children to Rivil’s Well, we can defend more easily there!
Barahir: Agreed! Gildor, Radhruin, Urthel - with me!…Dagnir and the rest of you get our people to Rivil’s Well. We will meet there by moonrise if all goes well.
Finrod: [to Barahir]
For this gift I owe you much, lord of men. Let us hope that we give the orcs good sport and enable your womenfolk to escape unnoticed.
Gildor: We will… [chuckles]
These foul beasts do not care for a foe that fights back.
Barahir: You would have done as much for us.
Finrod: I would like to believe so.

[The warriors separate and lead groups of Men into the woods, screen right. Finrod and Elves gather and exit, right, fighting all the way. Camera focus on Beren and Gwindor, fighting Orcs. An Orc near Beren catches a horse’s lead, Beren attacks Orc. Gwindor dashes into woods after Finrod. Beren jumps onto horse and kicks it off screen, right. Camera pan flaming camp. Cut.]

* * * * * * *

[Camera fade in on Angband, night. Fires burn, torches light the walls as Orcs keep watch. A company of Orcs approaches from lower right. Camera focus on Orcs and pan company; they are the same ones that fought in the Fens of Serech. They are still covered from the knees down in slime from the marsh. Camera focus on centre of column, where Gelmir is led a captive. He is obviously wounded, and both his arms are bound to a thick branch that crosses his shoulders. Two Orcs hold ropes tied to his ankles, while another holds the rope tied around his neck. Others poke him with spears and daggers to keep him moving. Gelmir stumbles and is jerked to his feet roughly. Camera follows column through Gates of Angband, cut.]

[Cut to Dungeon in Angband. Orc 1 enters left, walks along a row of cells and opens a door. Orcs 2, 3, and 4 enter right, with Gelmir still bound. Orc 2 thrusts a dagger under Gelmir’s chin wihle Orcs 3 and 4 cut the ropes that hold him. Gelmir is pushed into the cell, Orc 1 slams the door. Orc 5 enters right, at a run.]

Orc 5: [out of breath]
Is the prisoner secured?
Orc 2: [annoyed]
Do you think us fools? He is going nowhere.
Orc 5: That is good. Our Master says we must get him healthy again.
Orc 1: Why?
Orc 3: Maybe the Master wants some sport of him. He’ll be more interesting once he’s strong.
Orc 4: It could be that he will be our reward for a job well done.
Orc 2: What job well done? The Elf lord escaped us!
Orc 5: And it could be that if he dies while you stand here arguing the Master will make sport of you instead! Now tend his wounds and be quick about it! And don’t forget to feed him or it will be you explaining why you let him starve to death! [exits right]

[Camera shift inside Cell. Gelmir scrambles to the far wall on hands and knees. He is obviously injured, and breathing hard. The Cell has no windows, and only the torch light from the hall shows how small, damp, and filthy it is. Rats scurry along the walls, the sound of their claws loud in the silence.]

Gelmir: [wryly] Well, at least I am not alone in this place. [Rats scamper away, squeaking. Camera shift to door. We hear Orcs approaching, then the door opens and Orc 2 and Orc 4 enter. They have bandages, a flask of liniment, a bucket of water, and a pot of stew.]

Orc 2: The Master says we keep you alive... Don’t give us any trouble or we’ll break both your arms! [Camera focus on Gelmir and Orcs approach. He is terrified. Orcs pour some dark liniment on his wounds; Gelmir screams in pain. Orcs bandage his wounds, shove the pot of stew at him, and leave. After a moment of silence, Rats return.]

Gelmir: [to himself and to the Rats] I wonder why they bothered? Then again, I expected to be dead by now so I suppose this is a good sign. [Camera shift to stew pot. A Rat sniffs the stew cautiously, chitters, and scampers away. Camera shift to Gelmir, grimacing.]
Or not. Then again, I would be a fool to starve myself because the food is not to your taste. [tastes stew, makes an expression of disgust. Looks to Rat.] You were right. If I could crawl through the walls I would find something else. [eats stew.]

[Camera pan back on Cell. Gelmir sits in a corner, eating stew with his hand, braced against the wall. Water drips, Rats scurry. Camera pulls back out of Cell. Orc 1 sits at the guard post, drinking from a flask.

Camera cut to Gelmir’s Cell. Gelmir is no longer bandaged, although scarred and filthy. He paces the Cell, testing stones for looseness and finding all solid. He tests the door, which rattles as he pulls on it. He continues to rattle the door and yells angrily to be let out.

Camera shift to corridor outside of Cell. Orc 1 leaves guard post and walks to Gelmir’s cell, clearly annoyed.]

Orc 1: Quiet! The Master wants you for something , so you’re being kept alive. Be content with that if you know what’s good for you.
Gelmir: What does your master want with me?
Orc 1: How should I know? The Master has a purpose for all of us.
Gelmir: What does your Master have planned for you?
Orc 1: At the moment, I tend you. Now shut up or I will come in there and do it for you!

[Camera cut to Cell. Gelmir pounds his fist against the wall in frustration until his knuckles are bloody. At last he slumps on the floor, his shoulders shake with sobs. Rat comes to him, begins to lick his bloody hand.. Cut.]

End of Episode

There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes

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