The Hills of Evendim RPG

[Imladris]

Lira considered, wondering if she should even mention her concerns. She did not know much about vampires…was almost completely ignorant of them. The sky growled with angry thunder and long fingers of lightening clutched at the far mountain tops. It began to rain.

Swallowing, Lira said, “I believe that this master might be a vampire named Thuringwethil, Woman of Shadow. It was rumored that she was destroyed along with Sauron’s Isle, but her death was never confirmed.” Lira paused, and continued. “She was the fell bat of Melkor, his messenger. She had iron claws as well. Vampires are blood suckers, but whether she would drink it to extend her life I know not.”

Lira fell silent, chewing on her words. Not much was known about Thuringwethil. How could she still be alive?

[Esgallhugwen]

The roar of thunder fell on the company like an anvil, lightning flashed and for a few precious seconds made everthing visible before it fell back into darkness. Lira spoke up against the thunder.

“I believe that this master might be a vampire named Thuringwethil, Woman of Shadow. It was rumored that she was destroyed along with Sauron’s Isle, but her death was never confirmed.” Lira paused, and continued. “She was the fell bat of Melkor, his messenger. She had iron claws as well. Vampires are blood suckers, but whether she would drink it to extend her life I know not.”

Vampires were rare and therefore Esgallhugwen knew little of them; a flash flew across their heads, "they are difficult, if not impossible to kill" her words were barely audible over the rumbling above them. If her death was never confirmed then it was all too possible that Thuringwethil was yet alive.

Do not single her out as the only probable candidate for the Master, there are others, one is bad enough without worrying about possible others. She looked at Furman "is that all you can tell us?".

Esgallhugwen glanced around their campsite, the large tree she was under no longer could hold up the heavy rain fall, water dripped across her face looking like tears. "There won't be a fire tonight", she returned her gaze to Furman and awaited his answer.

[littlemanpoet]

Furman covered his head with his hood and looked at Eswen. "I can tell you that this storm is coveted by the Master. I do not understand how it may be, but they say that on nights like this, full of storm, he is sure to take a victim. He has been waiting long for such weather, it has been so calm. Pray that his Eodwine is not first on the Master's list this night."

Sleep came fitfully to the party through the long hours until dawn.

The rain did not stop, and the sun's rising was hidden by the heavy downpour. The were slowed by the wet going, but it was well that it rained; for the Master's troops stayed in, not fearing invasion so far from any settlement. All day the rain poured, and slowed them as they wound their way through the hills, avoiding the Master's main road to be safe.

The next rain-soaked night gave them no better rest.

The next morning dawned as dim as the previous day, and passed just as wet and uncomfortably. As the sky began to dim toward twilight, Furman directed them to the top of a hill, over the brow of which could be seen a fortress on the next hill. It was as humble as Furman had told them. There were no trees about, but fields with low brush. It would be impossible to approach with horses unless no one was looking their way.

Furman explained that they must go to the east side of the fortress, where they would find a ditch and a narrow pipe. They would have to crawl up the pipe into the fortress. It would stink. They would not be able to use their weapons until they came out of the pipe. In other words, it would be dangerous, but it was the only way. Unless they wanted to storm the fortress with their small numbers. Once Furman was done explaining, he looked around the group to see if there would be any questions or complaints, now that they saw what would be necessary.

[Imladris]

“Well, Anson,” I said. “Safe at last. I never realized how troublesome and adventure can be.”

Anson nodded and said, “I would like to get a pipe and a bit of tobacco.”

“I don’t believe we’ll find any here, though,” I sighed, kicking at a stone. It danced away through the tufts of grass and skittered to a stop. I trotted after it and kicked it again where it pattered off into a forest of weeds and stones. I was too lazy to go and look for it so I said, “From insane adventure to complete boredom.” I wondered if there was a happy medium between the two. More than likely not, I presumed and sighed.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if we had a nice hobbit hole and a fire and our gardens,” Anson said, patting me on the back.

I nodded glumly and collapsed onto the ground, which creaked in protest. A voice within the ground. Fingers of chillness traced my skin as I imagined a morbid wight creeping within the dirt. I shuddered and rolled off the mat, brushing the dirt away. A wooden trap door was revealed to us.

[Lumiel]

The thunder rolled like the ocean across the sky, accompanied by the stacatto flashes of lightning in the dark, morbid sky. Rain fell heavily in great dollops, soaking all below. The chill seemed to seep to the bone and memories of sun and dry clothes were swept away to only be recalled like remnants of a dream.

It all seemed like a dream. Lumiel was riding behind Thoromir and the Rangers on her horse, whom she had decided to name Felweth. Her dark cloak lay heavy on her skin, her brown hair plastered to her head and face. Small puffs of air blew from Felweth's nostrils, and the thought of a dragon sleeping dangerously in its lair flashed across her mind.

Beside her rode Furman, bent over in his saddle, his form a dark, unreadable shadow. She felt something for this man, a sympathy for his plight, a connection that went beyond the simple rope that linked his bound hands to her small hand which held the rope. As anxious as he had been to talk before, he was now silent and pensive, loath to speak or interact with anyone. But Lumiel had managed to get a few words out of him when they had stopped to rest.

She had asked him what he knew of the Master, but he would speak nothing of it to anyone save Thoromir, when he asked. She did not press the matter, he had his reasons she supposed. Instead, she asked him of his life before what he had become. He did not understand, but he seemed willing to talk of it.

He spoke of his home, where he grew up. A mother, a father, and a much older sister who married and moved far away when he was but a boy. His mother had died a few years later giving birth to a still-born child. With nothing to keep them tied down, they left for a life in the wilderness, away from the world. There he learned to hunt and track, he learned the ways of the woods, and of the woodsman. His father died an old, but strong man, and Furman continued his accepted life. Until he stumbled unknowingly at the time across such a malevolent force as they now faced.

His voice was soft and halting, and he did not meet her gaze. It seemed he could not. But he spoke. Lumiel never interupted him, but held her attention on him, encouraging him with her silent acceptance of what was. It was what he needed. How could he come to terms with what he had done? With what he had been a part of? He did not know where to begin the healing that he so desperately needed to be whole again. Yet somehow, speaking to this elf helped him...speaking of his past, of his once joyful innocence, helped him regain some of who he had been before. It seemed he could almost like her, almost enjoy her company. Almost. He seemed stubborn in his punishment against himself. He was unworthy of all who were there, he didn't deserve to live. And certainly he was beyond sympathy. Or so he thought.

He could not banish it anymore. As much as he tried to exile himself, he could not, for Lumiel was always there, silent and accepting. How was it possible? he asked himself again. And finally, he broke his silence on the matter. "Lady Elf, why do you linger? Why do you dote upon the needs of such a hellish fool as this?" he guestured to himself. "I am undeserving of your care and sympathy, save it for Eodwine, for the others for whom you fight. Remember how you found me." he said, looking into her eyes, pleading with her to give him the damnation he wanted.

Her eyes softened and her brows angled just slightly, and a strange expression of pity and regret mingled with an unconditional love of all things played out on her face. "You do yourself wrong, Furman. A fool you may be, but no more so than any other on this Earth. It is better to knowingly play the fool than laugh at one, not knowing that you are the true fool." she paused, gauging his face. "You didn't start off intending this, Furman. But you were a part of it. And here you are, trying to right what you did. You will need all your strength and bravery, and for that I give you willingly my care and sympathy, for in the end it may save Eodwine." she said. Furman swallowed and took in a deep breath, looking away. A faint sparkle was in his eyes, nearly hidden under the shadow of his bent brow. Lumiel gently turned his face to meet hers once more. "I believe in you." she said in a gentle yet strong voice that seemed to reach him.

"Thank you Lady Elf." he said, looking down again. His road out of all of this would be long and hard, and he hardly realized it yet.

"Please, call me Lumiel." she smiled at him as they stood up to remount and begin their journey again. Felweth labored through the mud stoutly, and several hours later they stopped once more, and Furman told Thoronmir the rest of what he knew. The fortress was within sight. The end was nearing. They were at the center of the storm.

[Nurumaiel]

A shiver went through Anson and he put out a hand to stop Gorby, forming on his lips the word stop. Yet he never spoke that word. Rather, he stopped himself and a different kind of shiver went through him. A shiver of excitement. For a brief moment he was back in the Shire with Gorby and they were mere children. They had just discovered a secret trapdoor by Merry Brandybuck's home and were debating over whether they should open it or not.

He could smell the grass as they crouched down by it, soft curls falling in their round, inquisitive faces. Gorby had wanted to open it right away; Anson had been afraid there might be a monster locked up inside there, something Meriadoc had caught in his adventures. Gorby had gone into a long narrative of what they would do to the monster when it came up, ending with it lying slain and the two hobbit children crowned heroes for saving the Shire, and Anson had relented... in that point, at least. His next objection was that Meriadoc might not like it. Gorby hadn't been able to answer that, but he didn't care.

Gorby had pulled open the trapdoor, babbling something about hidden treasure, and when the slow creaking had died away and there was nothing but a murky blackness and a deep pit that seemed to go on forever he had lightly jumped in without hesitating. Anson, too terrified to stay by himself though the sunshine surrounded him, had followed.

Inside they had found nothing... nothing? Nay, they had found hidden treasure of a sort. All sorts of pretty baubles sat here and there, bright-colored balls and richly painted toys. They had gazed about in awe, their little fingers yearning to touch those toys and play with them. And then they had heard that loud laugh and turned and, oh the horror, seen Meriadoc Brandybuck, his gaze fixed straight at them, laughing. Anson had always felt awed by Merry Brandybuck and a bit uncertain about them. It wasn't natural for a Hobbit to go have adventures. For a moment it flashed through his mind that Meriadoc Brandybuck had gone on adventures because he was insane and now he was going to lock them up in that dark room forever.

But Meriadoc had ceased to laugh and looked about him with a helpless gesture at all the toys. "I see you've found this little lair," he said. "My children's lair." He had paused a moment, then a broad smile had come to his face. "Would you like to play with the toys?" he had asked. The two children had not answered, for they were still rather surprised, but they had eagerly leapt at those bright things and had spent a merry two hours playing, and Meriadoc Brandybuck had actually played with them.

Anson stared at this new trapdoor and a little smile flickered across his features. They might not find toys but perhaps they'd find something delightful, such as pipes and tobacco. And if they found a monster they'd just have to carry out Gorby's plan of yore.... what a shock Lira would have when she returned and found they had slain a fierce monster.

He touched Gorby's shoulder. "Let's open it."

[Imladris]

Gorby

I was surprised that Anson of all people wanted to go down into the trap door. But I couldn’t be more thrilled…finally he wanted to go on an adventure!

The trap door didn’t open very easily. I was afraid we would have to get an axe and chop it open, but Anson discovered a lock that I had overlooked. It wasn’t rusted like the other one had been, but we had a terrible time opening it all the same.

The door opened quietly, without a creaking protest, which was nice. It always made me uncomfortable when a door creaks…it just makes everything more spooky.

There was a iron ladder which Anson and I clambered down. The tunnel wasn’t pitch black like the first one I had discovered which was nice. Blackness is a herald of doom and doom usually means death.

We crept into a large room. Gold over spilled from dusty bags and large wooden chests. Gems sparkled upon the floor and were imbedded in the blades of axes and swords. My jaw dropped, my eyes widen. So much wealth! Then we heard a low, snarling, growl.


Lira

Lira listened to Furman’s plan and said, “Will we not be slain anyway once we leave the pipe?” There was a short pause, and Lira continued, “Is there no way we could go in disguise there?”

She waited again, praying that they would not have to risk their lives in such a way. Then she laughed. It was musical, like water. What craven coward she was. Afraid to go into a fortress because lives would be risked. Had not thousands of other brave warriors risked their lives?

[Imladris]

I shuddered as I heard the snarling noise. It seemed to choke me with invisible fingers, drinking my strength away. As soon as my eyes became adjusted to the dark, I saw a lank wolf eyeing us with golden orbs. Spit dripped from his white fangs, his fur was stiff on his neck. He looked evil. Felt evil. I shuddered again, wishing to go back.

That was when I noticed that the tunnel ended behind the dog -- or at least I assumed so. Bags were piled behind the wolf and I saw a glint of gold. I gnawed my lip, considerring. If there was gold in those bags, what else would be in there? Clues as to the master was? A pip and some tobacco, I thought with yearning. I nodded and said, "We should kill him and look at the bags. We have you with us," I said, just now noticing the newcomer as a ragged ranger. "You could kill him easily, could you not?"

He nodded and I turned to Anson. "We have a ranger with us," I said with a smile. "He'll help us kill it -- or we'll help him kill it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lira and the others

Thoronmir now neared the end of the pipe. He stopped, made sure that everyone was ready, and, with a gesture of his hand, burst from the pipe, sword drawn. Lira crouched waiting to spring as soon as Furman had disappeared from the pipe. It reminded her of a running race she had often played when she was young...

Furman began to wiggle himself and she scrambled forward after him. She slid from the pipe onto a wooden floor and, drawing her knife, she climbed to her feet and glanced quickly around, looking for the enemy. She saw Furman grappling a guard, and a guard pulling a blade on Falowik.

She heard a soft step behind her and whirling around, she saw another guard lunge at her with a heavy sword. She parried it with her dagger and dodged underneath his arm, driving her knife into his belly.

[Lumiel]

As soon as they entered the dark, dank tunnel, the outside world became muted. All feeling of rain and wind disappeared, all that was in evidence of the dreary weather was a hollow echo in the pipe and the soaked companions crawling upwards through the pipe. Lumiel's heart pounded anxiously as they slowly made their way in. The grime and muck clung to her hands and feet, and she avoided contact with it as much as was possible. Not so much because the smell and feel bothered her (though it certainly was not pleasant), but more because the slime would hinder her movements once they were within.

They paused near the end. She could see two pair of feet outside. It was amazing that the guards didn't hear them. Confined and waiting, every noise seemed amplified dangerously. Finally Thoronmir gave the signal and they burst forth from the tunnel, one after the other, blades drawn.

Before she could fully take in the situation they had leaped into, Lumiel saw Furman attempt to take down one of the guards with only his bound hands. His years spent in the wilderness had strengthened him so that even bound, he was dangerous. But still, he could not take on another fully grown, armed man by himself. The guard clutched at his throat, since Furman had thrown his arms around his neck and was now attempting to choke him, and reached one hand down to a dagger at his side.

Before he could raise it for a lethal blow to Furman, Lumiel rushed forward, silent except for a sickening squish of her boots. The man glanced toward her with wide, fearful eyes and let out a strangled gasp as she plunged her sword into his gut and wrenched it upwards, killing him instantly. Furman released his hold on the man and Lumiel stepped behind the dead guard to avoid the blood now pumping out of him. Taking a dagger from her belt, she quickly cut Furman's ropes. Reaching down to the dead body, she pulled the sword from its belt and shoved it into Furman's hands. "You'll have better luck with this." she whispered to him with a faint smile and quickly turned to the rest of the skirmish now taking place.

Falowik was dealing with the second guard and Lira was near another dead body. Whether the third guard had been summoned or merely had walked in on the situation, Lumiel didn't know. She only hoped that their essential element of surprise was not entirely lost.

[Esgallhugwen]

Despite the unpleasant circumstances, Esgallhugwen was able to keep a foot hold in the thick slime that caked the tunnel. They neared the end and she could see thin rays of light slipping past her companions that had gone ahead.

While scaling up the tunnel conscious of the sludge beginning to weight her down she contemplated Thoronmir's words, how he sould have been refering to the Dark Queen in all her dread and glory. Eswen knew she might have to bring her out again when they confronted the Master, which they pobably would.

One by one they crawled out of the tunnel like some thing from a child's nightmare, sickly and covered head to toe with mud and green slime, their swords drawn and glimmering. Immediately she beheld the others go to work on the gaurds swiftly and as quietly as they could, though the muck made an irritating sucking slopping noise as it slid off their boots.

There had been two gaurds, but a third came around the bend, Lira finished him quickly. The silence that followed seemed more sickening then the sucking slurping noises of their boots.

Kildirak

The snarling beast before them made the hair on Kildirak's neck stand up, yes he knew how to kill a wolf, but he only wanted to use that as a last resort. "Surely there could be some other way to get near those bags, who knows how long this beast has been down here. Put here to gaurd this chamber no less. What if he is starving? I know all too well what that feels like".

The faint candle light flickered on the figure of the dark wolf, it ribs jutting out with every gasping breath. It's eyes flashed with more hunger and fear than any beastial authority.

"You two", he whispered as low as he could "look for some rope that might be nearby or anything that you can find that would suit that purpose". They all started looking about them keeping an eye on the wolf to make sure he didn't try and attack.

The hobbits, Anson and Gorby picked up a few things, a steel chain, leather whip, golden necklace that had fallen from one of the near bags, but no rope. Just then the wolf began to step forward ready to lunge.