Bloodstained Elanor RPG

[Arry]

An army travels on its stomach . . .

- and rumour and gossip pervade the ranks like gas after cabbage soup . . .

Gromwakh looked out over the small platoon of wagons that bore the food to fuel the invasion. At least, he thought it was an invasion, from what he’d gleaned in conversation with the Orcs sent back to fetch supplies. They were a never-ending source of information – overlooked grunts and cooks, barely worth noticing by the captains and such; too stupid to understand anything other than sharp barked commands, or so they appeared to the ones they served. And true they often misheard or misunderstood what was said, but with a little poking and prodding of memory and a small bribe, much could be put together.

At any rate, it appeared the Elves didn’t know what was to happen, weren’t waiting for the Dark One’s army. ‘It’ll be a surprise!’ snorted a one-armed Orc from near the front. ‘There’ll be plenty of Elves to kill and trees to burn to the ground.’ He nodded firmly, punctuating his comments with a belch. ‘Cap’n says we’re to have whatever prizes we can find.’

‘You should live so long,’ thought Gromwakh to himself, ‘the only prize you’re likely to get is one of them sharp, shiny blades in your gut.’

He’d helped the Orc fill his sack with supplies and sent him on his way, when one of his own band motioned him over to the side of the track. ‘Old Kreblug here says he’s picked up some tasty information . . . be willing to trade it for two salted fish and a small jug of Deadman’s-jack. Grom’s brows raised as his jaundiced gaze swept over the wretched specimen who stood opposite him. Deadman’s-jack was a particularly foul drink brewed from the leavings of leftover vegetable peelings . . . Orcs would drink it, but only after exhausting their supply of Orc-draught. Grom could see the trembling of Kreblug’s hands and how he smacked his thick lips. The fellow was desperate for something to take the edge off . . .

‘Two fish, and a cup of jack,’ he said to Kreblug. Kreblug wavered, looking as if he might say ‘no’. But Grom sweetened the deal. ‘’And one cup every day that you bring me back news.’ He motioned for his fellow Orc to pour a cup for Kreblug.

‘Now tell us what you heard . . .’ he urged the desperate Orc, holding the cup just beyond his reach.

[Firefoot]

Thorvel was running strongly beside Calenvása, their two companions up ahead. Running felt good, after the long night in a cramped position. His earlier frustration had faded as the thrill of the chase set in, if his irritation at Lómarandil had not. Arrogant young elf, he thought. Thorvel wasn't sure where he had been a scout previously, but in that time he had certainly not learned much about Orcs. They might kill a few of their own - he had already seen examples of such - but killing off the entire army? Thorvel didn't think so. The Enemy had a purpose for them, unclear though it was, and as long as that held true the Orcs would be held to his will. He shook his head of the gloomy thoughts. There had been far too many of those lately.

"Their trail certainly isn't hard to follow," said Thorvel, chuckling wryly. The grass under their feet was trampled, and any living thing in the Orcs' way had been hacked down. He was grinning, not that there was much to grin at but he needed to vent his humor somehow. Calenvása gave him a queer look but smiled back. Thorvel was enjoying Calenvása's companionship more and more as he got to know him better. His face returned to its usual expressionless gaze, but his eyes gleamed with pleasure. He remembered the Captain's words to him earlier: “We will elaborate upon these thoughts later, friend. Would you mind my company in our chase?” He had called him friend. It meant a great deal to Thorvel that his captain felt this way about him. Thorvel had not known many people he could call friends in his many years, but Calenvása was slowly but surely edging his way up onto Thorvel's short list of friends.

Thorvel turned his mind back to the Orcs. He was still puzzled. All the information that they had was vague at best. A smaller more organized section of the army. Orcs trying to stay away from "them". Southrons and Orcs. What could it all mean? Calenvása had said they would speak more of it later, and Thorvel hoped that together they might be able to come up with something more than he alone was coming up with, which was little more than nothing.

"What do you intend to do if we catch up with the Orcs?" Thorvel asked, cocking his head towards the Captain. "It is a good deal harder to run swiftly and quietly under cover of trees."

[Arry]

Kreblug shivered as he looked at the proffered cup. ‘Just a taste,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Just something to wet my whistle. Easier to talk, if you catch my drift.’

Gromwakh poured just a tot into a small cup handed him by Snikdul and watched as the his benighted fellow Orc chased away his demon for the moment. Kreblug smacked his lips together when it was gone; looking deep into the cup in case he had missed a drop. He looked up hopefully at Gromwakh, only to see his eyes narrow and his head shake a definitive ‘no’.

‘Right, then,’ Kreblug began. ‘It were late last night, nearing sun up I think, when me and a couple of friends were off on some private business of our own.’

Snikdul wiped his dripping nose on the back of his arm and gave a small cough. ‘Drinking your “private business”, more likely,’ he thought to himself. Looking up he thought he saw the same assessment flicker in Gromwakh’s eyes. Gromwakh, in fact, had decided that perhaps the ‘information’ the Orc had might be from drunken imaginings. He urged Kreblug to go on.

‘It’s when we saw ‘im. Well not so much as saw him as smelled him. That stinking stench they have. Near enough to set our guts to roiling.’ Kreblug snorted as if the foul stench had hit him once again.

‘Probably got a whiff of himself,’ muttered Snikdul, moving to stand near Gromwakh. Grom kicked him in the ankle and cast what passed as a smile toward Kreblug. ‘Go on . . . we’re all pins and needles here,’ he said to the informant. ‘What was it that smelled so bad?’ Kreblug wavered, about to ask for one more little taste, but the look on Gromwakh’s face decided his course.

‘A stinking Elf it was! Sniffer, it was, who caught the scent - smelled him sure in one of the trees near us. Try as we might we couldn’t see him; couldn’t hear him either . . . the sneaking blighters!’

‘I know that Sniffer fellow,’ commented Snikdul. ‘Got nostrils the size of some of the caverns beneath Mount Gundabad, he does. Very reliable at sniffing things out.’

‘Anyway,’ continued Kreblug, ‘we moved away from that place and conducted our little business away from spying eyes. Went back in the morning, on our way back to camp, for a little look-see, so to speak, but he was gone by then.’ Gromwakh nodded thoughtfully and passed the cup of Deadman’s-jack to the eager waiting fingers of Kreblug. ‘Have you told your Captain about this?’ he asked.

‘Told my Captain!’ spluttered the Orc between convulsive swallows of the potent liquid. ‘Are you daft? We’d have to explain what we were doing away from camp, now wouldn’t we?’

Gromwakh sent Kreblug off and gathered his fellows about him. ‘Well, isn’t this a fine mess we’re in. Old One-Eye to the front of us, and him marching us to certain death. Elves spying in trees . . .’ He looked consideringly behind the slowly advancing wagons as the last of them pulled past him. ‘And what’s behind us I wonder?’

‘Can’t see anything, Grom,’ one of the band offered helpfully. Gromwakh led them back to the wagons, joining the forward march with a few jostlings and cursings thrown their way. ‘There’ll be no striking a bargain for our benefit with the ones in charge here. We’re so much fodder for their little war.’ He chewed thoughtfully on his lip for a moment.

‘Wonder if we could strike some bargain with the Elves,’ he muttered to himself.

[Durelin]

"What do you intend to do if we catch up with the Orcs? It is a good deal harder to run swiftly and quietly under cover of trees."

Calenvása's troubled thoughts were disrupted by Thorvel's words, and he felt eternally grateful. The Captain sighed in relief, as the clouds dissipated in his head. Thorvel opened his mouth once more, but Calenvása silenced him with a gesture He knew that his companion had started to apologize, for nothing. He remained silent for a moment longer, listening to the air around him. The complete and utter quiet that settled on the land kept him alert, and he thought his ears could even hear the miniscule sound of elfin feet passing through the tall growths of the forest. The trees around them were quickly receding, but that certainly did not mean the air should not be full of birds. And other creatures should be heard around the elves, who were welcome in the forests of the world. It was clear that the world had been silenced by the passing of heavy feet that made the earth creak beneath them.

"I do not intend to catch up to them. We will follow them, particularly with our eyes, as their destination is our own. We do little good to Lorien if we can tell them nothing of the attack other than what we know now."

Thorvel smiled slightly. "And what do we know now?"

"That the attack will come."

Calenvása laughed quietly with his companion, but his mind soon came to the realization that he was avoiding so many topics. He was simply afraid of including Targil or Lómarandil in any of his words, as his thoughts that had surrounded them worried him the most. But he knew there was one thing that had to be said, now. And more needed to be said later.

"I have neglected to see so many things..." he said quietly, and seemed to trail off into more thoughts. Thorvel remained patient, kindly silent. "We have much to discuss when we stop to rest tonight."

"We stop?"

"I'm afraid we must, if not to sleep. I can only hope that the army will make a detour for a good ale along the way."

Thorvel grinned, but spoke with seriousness, "They must rest along the way if they plan to put up a fight at the end."

Calenvása nodded reluctantly at this, knowing it to be true, but doubting it all the same. He decided then that this was later enough for more to be discussed. There was another question he had been avoiding, and he believed Thorvel had been, as well. The Captain knew that his comrade had not forgotten the words whispered in his ear. It was of great importance that their two minds be put together, in the quiet of their world without a senseless rush forcing them into action. "I believe it is a good time to elaborate upon one of the problems at hand. Soon we will lack the time, I fear."