Avaldur, Guardian of the Citadel of Gondor, looked out to the East.

Dark clouds were constant features of the horizon these days, with a strange and disquieting red and orange glow at their base. Fell events were taking place within the Land of the Enemy; Mordor was alive. Not for the last time his thoughts turned to his Father, lost in the land of Ithilien on a secret errand for the Steward. He was younger then, not fully a man but already a Herald to the great Captain Beremor Imrahiel of Prince Imrahiel's line. Some say his Father went to that once fair line to seek lore and knowledge of the White Tree; ahhhh the White Tree of Valinor, that sign of the life of Numenor a life that was now ebbing; the tree was dying. He turned to gaze at his charge that old tree, now wizened and age worn. He was charged with defending this place, the throne of the King, and while that tree lived, hope remained. As thunder peeled in the East the tree shed another of its remaining few leaves. In the North at the base of Amon Sul a lonely campfire gave fleeting warmth to a hushed fellowship. Candaith, Ranger of the North, was meeting with Numena Imrahiel, a Warden of Breeland, her closest friend and ally the Elven Hunter Bregarieth Ivyleaf and a stranger to the region but a fellow in arms nonetheless; he was Sanlaf Hammerheart, Bard of Dale. These Free People had been drawn together at the Prancing Pony, each seeking news from the outlands news of a growing shadow and trouble in the South and East. There they met Aragorn (known locally as Strider) and were sent to help Candaith to discover the strength of Orcs and Half Orcs seeking to cut the Great East / West Road thereby separating Eriador form any help from the Elven refuges of Imladris or Lothlorien. Unknown to Numena, her ancestors being refugees in the north following the Fall of Fornost and the defeat of the Northern Kingdom by the Witch King of Angmar, her distant cousin Captain Pelandor Imrahiel quaffed his beer and, standing, grabbed the forearm of his younger brother and his adopted nephew in a sign of strength and honour, of trust and loyalty, but also in farewell. Beremor laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. Do not worry old man, he teased, any orc seeing the sun shining off your bald head will be so dazed that their head will be off their shoulders before they can shield their eyes. Aye Uncle! agreed Avaldur. After the loss of his Father and his raising to full rank within the Guard, Beremor had taken Avaldur into his household and adopted him as his Son. These three warriors were united now through family ties as well as through strife. Pelandor was to accompany the Steward's Son, Captain Boromir, on his quest to find the fabled Elf refuge of Imladris to seek answers to the fabled story of halflings and the discovery of a great weapon of the Enemy. They approached the gap of Rohan as the attack struck. Attacking downwind and through the lashing rain of an unnatural and sudden thunderstorm, the wandering orcs ran headlong into battle. ATTACK! ORCS! the outlying vanguard cried as they rushed back to the main party. Captain Boromir, we are beset by at least a score of Orcs. They bear an unusual mark an upheld white hand., the scout sergeant breathlessly reported. Saruman?, Boromir pondered, What deception of the Enemy is this? Still Orc is Orc. Pelandor! Take your men and defend our Left Flank! I will take the remainder North and

East to try to draw them off. We rendezvous at the edge of Fangorn Forest. Pelandor hastily rallied his troops and formed a wall of steel against the tidal wave of orc. He could hear the Horn of Gondor being sounded by Boromir, at first a welcome sound, but as it lessened with distance he became more and more aware that he was now alone in this place. Father, the Horn of Gondor!, exclaimed Avaldur. Turning on his heel Beremor approached the Steward. My Lord, the Horn has been heard to the North West. Boromir needs aid. So it is begun., sighed Denethor the Steward of Gondor, It is as I have seen. Go now Captain, take your men and seek out my Son. Lend what aid you can, quickly now. And so it was that Beremor, Captain of Gondor, and his adopted Son Avaldur, Guardian of the Citadel, found the battle site and funeral pyre of slaughtered Orcs. Beside the river on higher ground, a cairn of stone had been erected surrounded by upturned Spears. Spears flying the Banner of the White Tree. There we no signs of any remnant, on either side. Saddened yet unconvinced at the death of either his brother or the Lord Boromir, Beremor considered his options. Winking at his Son he called Sergeant! Yes Sir? answered the Sergeant in charge of the accompanying soldiers. Take your men and return to Gondor. Make report of what occurred here to the Steward. Tell him that I am following his instruction to lend aid to his Son. Avaldur and I will continue Northwards and seek for him. But Sir.., protested the Sergeant. He did not get any further as Beremor held up his hand. My friend, someone needs to report to Gondor and your men are needed in defence of our fair city. Avaldur and I are more likely to pass unnoticed if we are not accompanied by a large contingent of men. You have your orders, now go. Ceolwin Ravenheart, once of the Westfold and latterly of Bree, lay quietly observing a small band of Brigands. They were terrorizing a local farmer and his family; stealing livestock and burning their crops. Outraged, his sense of justice flared up and he entered the fray. He had known many such occasions where the battle rage overtook his normally quiet mannered persona he knew it well, it was familiar and confident. He felt the heat in his veins as time seemed to slow for him making his opponents appear slugish and laboured. Slash, parry, thrust, spin, thrust it was over before it had begun and the brigands lay dead. Wiping his blades clean he saw the relief and thanks of the farmer and his family. Refusing any thanks or payment he took his horse and set off further to south seeking more enemies of these peaceful lands. Ceolwin Ravenheart bore a heavy burden the knowledge that he was really a stranger to these lands; a refugee of war and sadness. His Father had been a Sheriff in Rohan and had been murdered whilst riding the boundaries. Devastated, his Mother had left Rohan and tried to resettle in Bree far away from the memories of her loss. But trouble had spread to this adopted land. Brigands and strange half-bred orcs had come and their talk was of a foul Master called Sharku, or Sharkey. They terrorized the free people and as more and more farms burned Bree had become a sorry place of refuge for grumbling men and bitter crying women and children.

In his room in the Prancing Pony Aragorn held council. The fire was dim, almost at its end, casting eerie shadows across the faces of his gathering. To those already allied through fighting the introduction of 2 men of Gondor seemed an uncomfortable intrusion. Aragorn read the thoughts of them all. Numena, Bregarieth, Sanlaf, peace. This is captain Beremor and his son Avaldur of Gondor. They come to Bree from the Lone Lands having been guided here by my fellow Rangers. They set out in pursuit of their Lord the Son of the Steward of Gondor, but never found him. Alas no-one knows the fate of Boromir son of Denethor. However, they have proven resilient and true, fighting servants of the enemy each step of their long journey from the south. I bid you to welcome then as fellow Free People and Brothers-in-Arms. However, there are others yet to come to this council for your number is as yet incomplete. A patterned knock came on the door. All those gathered instinctively began to draw weapons, as each had become accustomed to fighting on pure reaction. Stay you hands friends, that is a friendly knock., assured Strider, Ceolwin Ravenheart, come in and bring your guests along ; smartly now. In walked a Hobbit Minstrel, an Elf Hunter, Ceolwin Ravenheart the Champion and a bald headed Captain. PELANDOR!!!!! exclaimed both the other Gondorians. For Ceolwin Ravenheart had come across Pelandor, exhausted from fighting and constant harrying by enemies, in the South of Breeland and decided to bring him to Aragorn in Bree. Hathy had travelled from the Shire seeking news and to tell of Goblins in the Green Fields and Wolves everywhere. Lanhadir had also travelled from the West to determine the safety of the road to the Gray Havens. The ever watchful rangers of the North had guided all these travellers to this place at this time. Nine Companions, nine fellows in arms, and as the Imrahiels were soon to discover, a reuniting of the allies of old men of the North and South and Elves of the Golden Wood. Pelandor, Beremor and Avaldur Imrahiel were amazed to discover Numena Imrahiel and her ancestry in Annuminas. Bregarieth and Lanhadir told of the fair woods and of the darkness of Mirkwood. Sanlaf and Hathy sang lays and epic tales which raised the morale of those gathered and renewed their strength. Ceolwin Ravenheart sat with Aragorn and heard new tales from the men of Gondor about his Homeland of Rohan all grew together in one aim to fight together against the darkness in the east and to seek out others who would join their legion, whether from those of the Fallen Leaves with Eriador, or from those of the still Golden Leaves of Lothlorien. They would form an Alliance of Leaves for the sake of the White Tree and the freedom of all Middle Earth. Beremor Imrahiel, Captain and Leader of The Golden Leaves of Lothlorien Pelandor Imrahiel, Captain and 2nd in Command of the Golden Leaves of Lothlorien Avaldur Imrahiel, Champion and Officer of the Golden Leaves of Lothlorien Ceolwin Ravenheart, Champion and Officer of the Golden Leaves of Lothlorien Hathy, Minstrel and Officer of the Golden Leaves of Lothlorien Lanhadir, Hunter, Founder and Officer of the Golden Leaves of Lothlorien Bregarieth Ivyleaf, Leader of the Fallen Leaves of Eriador

Sanlaf Hammerheart, Officer of the Fallen Leaves of Eriador Numena Imrahiel, Officer of the Fallen Leaves of Eriador