Orn, Son of Thain
Weaponmaster
HP: 32 / 32 AC: 20 (16) Second Wind: Yes Action Surge: Yes Shadow: 2 Character Sheet
Orn really felt like smashing up the chair with his mallet. The sour swirl in his mind made him think that a bit of senseless violence would drive the dark pallor from his mind. But this was an object fashioned by Amdiran's people and it was one of their descendants that should decide its fate. He knew that his own great grandfather's chair was the high seat of his house and if it were senselessly destroyed, he would be very angry indeed. As well, though he'd never met Elrond, he'd heard the great elf's name mentioned in reverence for his many great deeds and wonders. If the stories were true, Elrond had even been there when Isildur claimed the ring in the great battle that killed the dark lord, Sauron. And someone like that might indeed know some trick of sorcery that might drive the shadow from such a great object
It was said that the ring had been lost like its master but Orn knew better. Some uppity muckity muck in Gondor probably claimed the ring for himself when an arrow claimed Isildur's life and acted like he didn't know what happened to it. Even now, it probably sat in some secret treasure vault generation after generation, a testament to the thievery of the race of Men.
"Cursed men." Orn said under his breath and immediately felt guilty for his fel thoughts about Men for he had count two of their kind among his dearest and most trusted friends.
Orn shouldered his hammer and gave a 'harrumph' in the direction of the seat of Arnor, then followed after the ranger.