Farmer in the Dale RPG

[Child of the 7th Age]

Elanor climbed to the top of the old wooden fence and sat down on the upper railing, curling her fingers around the nearby fencepost for added support as she stared at the surrounding plain. For the past hour she had been searching all over the farm, investigating every cranny where she knew her brother sometimes hid. Despite her efforts, she'd found nothing. Even the neighbors claimed not to have seen Eric, but most of them had been so involved in rounding up family members that Elanor wondered if they would even remember a small boy slipping though the fields. At least, she had not had any trouble with the dragon. He seemed to be lying low for the moment.

The sun had sunk below the horizon; only a tiny wisp of light remained in the skies. With a rueful shake of her head, Elanor climbed down again and then trotted back in the direction of her home. She had not gone more than a dozen paces when she heard a sound over her shoulder. Halting for a moment to glimpse back, Elanor noticed a familiar figure sprinting towards the south, trying to catch up with her.

"Elian!" she cried out in greeting.

"Yes, it's me. And I have news. I went further north of here, about a half a mile, and came across Farmer Brand. This, afternoon, he saw Eric. Brand was rounding up his herds right after the wyrm was sighted. Eric was racing southeast through the fields, all by himself, heading towards the river; he was apparently doubling back chasing after the dragon, who was going in broad circles."

Elanor's face blanched white at the idea that her brother could be so far away from the house and that he'd been running after the dragon instead of away from him. She only hoped that the dragon hadn't noticed him. Fighting back tears, she responded grimly, "And your father, Elian? Have you seen him?"

"No. But I think dad will be alright. I am more worried about your brother."

"Let's go back then," urged Elanor, "and tell the others. Maybe your father is there by now. Anways, it's getting dark and we can't go running off on our own. My dad and mom will know what to do."

With that, they turned around and continued together.

[ArwenBaggins]

The sun was only a small glowing shred of light on the far horizon, much to Arinn's dismay. If only they could have more time... even an hour! If only he had offered Eric the chance of going in the fields with him as well. If. That's all it was. An if.

He emerged from the hay storage shed and started at a slow walk towards home. He knew that going slower would mean less time to look for the boy and his brother-in-law, but he didn't want to break the news to everyone that he hadn't found a speck of evidence of Eric anywhere. He only hoped that Elanor had some sort of clue or information that could reasured him. Hope was all he could do now.

After several minutes of not-so-leisurely walking, Arinn had arrived again at the door of his home. From inside, he could hear shaky and hurried voices- more than two. "Willow, Eli?" he called as he entered, but then noticed that his sister-in-law and her daughter Daisy were also there. Deciding that he wanted to acknowledge them all, he continued: "Esmerelda, Daisy."

He smiled weakly and kissed his wife's head, and then bent down to ruffle Eli's hair. Everyone seemed to stop talking after he arrived, but soon started again as Elanor and Elian came inside. Elian came first to Arinn. "Uncle Arinn, Farmer Brand saw Eric earlier."

Again the whispers stopped. "Brand? Up a ways north?" It wasn't really a question, and he didn't expect any answer other than the nod he recieved. "We need to go out now."

A huff from his present son drew his attention away. "Eli, if you were missing, wouldn't you want us to go and look for you at night?"

"Yes," he said softly, kicking his feet around.

"That's what I thought. Now, I know everyone is tired, but my son- and it seems Rhysdan as well- is still missing. We should all go out together, so no one else gets lost. Does this sound good?" He looked around at everyone's faces, the fear present on them.

Nothing. No nods, no disagreements, nothing. Supposing that no one had any objections, he turned to the door. "Now, let's find Rysdan and Eric."

[Kransha]

In the sky, the golden dragon, his wings no longer slapping the smoke-filled air with crazed fury but merely acting as devices to direct him as he glided gently, pondered his situation. He was still slightly hungry, the feast on Dale’s livestock having not been entirely filling, but he had more important matters to look to. He would have to wage a next level of assault on Erebor, the Lonely Mountain, the only obstacle that did not cower and tremble before his shimmering might. Then he could see to further pleasure, and perhaps another belated meal, in Dale. He would have to be cautious, though, and show logic and tact in his offensive maneuvers. He would not delve into the mountain yet, but conquer it from without. After the petty resistance in Dale and those of Erebor were annihilated, he would seek the innards of the Lonely Mountain and the needed treasures that they held. Slowly, whipping his long tale and arching form about in midair, Smaug turned again, more fully, towards weary Erebor. What little specks of sunlight shone through the thick smog clouds were brightened when reflected on Smaug’s scales, illuminating the dragon’s magnificent hide as he suddenly swerved, swiveled, and dove forward towards the oncoming mountain.

Another torrential explosion of powdery dirt, fractured rock, and billowing dust shot out of the wound in the mountainside, rimmed by the bright crimson of Smaug’s flames. The column of fire penetrated the rock and bored through it, plowing into the face of Erebor and causing the mountain to quake as it was uprooted from within. As the outpour of produced smoke bore towards him, Smaug moved aside and directed another precise pillar of his fiery breath at another piece of the mountain, scorching the grayish rock into coal-black rubble. He continued doing this, parallel with the mountain again as he had been when he first attacked Erebor, but this time his attacks were more lethal, more concise, and more destructive. As he circled the mountain, moving in a diagonal spiral so that he moved steadily around the cone of Erebor and towards it dulled peak, he blasted every area that retained itself, causing most of Erebor’s protective stone to crumble, melting off the mountainsides and onto the earth far below. Finally, he’d reached the mountaintop, its majestic tip obscured by flame and smoke plumes still. As his the circles his bulk drew in the sky shrunk around the peak, he honed in on it and let loose countless gusts of the brightest fire which tore the mountaintop asunder, easily destroying its former prowess in the sky and causing rock to fall away, leaving the jutting mountain no more than a looming lump of fiey earth and dust and rock built up by time’s winds.

Satisfied with his work, Smaug soared over the fallen peak and, his wings skimming the mountainside again, flew down towards the land and Dale. His focused and unmoving eyes caught sight of an uncharacteristic hue present on the landscape. It was blue, not bright and gleaming blue, but irritatingly tranquil when superimposed against the sweeping darkness of Smaug’s Desolation. It was a river, winding delicately around, flanking Erebor and swiftly moving. It was the river he’d seen earlier, and taken little notice of, that poured out of Erebor and moved calmly around the fringes of Dale, on its eastern side. Now that Dale and Erebor were so marred by Smaug, the river seemed out of place. At first, the dragon could not think of a way to rectify the problem, but he soon resolved simply to see what advantages he could find in or alongside the river…perhaps another much desired meal. Snapping his jaws gratuitously, Smaug dipped low, his gem-encrusted underbelly gliding along the water’s surface. The river’s gentle waves were pushed aside by the massive gales of wind that Smaug carried alongside him, his two magnificent wings fanning the body of water and sending bursts of river up onto each bank, soaking the swaying trees on both sides. His two beady, gleaming eyes tried to focus, but the spray that shot up from beneath him obscured the dragon’s vision as he searched for his prey.

Finally he saw it, though it was not exactly what he’d thought it was, or hoped it was. A small figure, curled up protectively in the trees’ shade on the unwashed shores, barely visible (except in Smaug’s keen vision), but close below. He grimaced from his hovering perch in the unsettled air, disappointed by the quality of his meal, but dismissed the size of it, guessing that the creature was probably more tender in its youth, and easy prey, not swift or adept enough to escape him. His dark frown twisted malevolently into a grin as he veered expertly sideways, the fringes of his leathery wings caressing the surface of the river. He quickly moved toward it, descending to the lowest point he could reach while flying without being hindered. The dragon aimed himself, now not moving, waiting for his chance, at the targeted tree and tore towards it, his jaws pried open and ready for another satiation of his hunger. He saw the small bundle growing very slightly larger in his sight as he closed in over the river.

But, before he reached his prey, he became aware of an obstacle he had dismissed before. The tree branches were too low and too much in his way for the dragon to reach the ground smoothly. Instead, countless gnarled branches pricked irritatingly at the soft flesh of his wings. He tried to brush the trees aside, but many of them were firm where they stood. He tore off branches, pulled up tree trunks, but could not delve to where the small form lay beneath. He could no longer see it through the disheveled array of branches and guessed that the great commotion of his tearing up the forest had scared it away. He roared angrily, but could do no more than vent. There would be other prey, surely, but Smaug found it easier to be as vengeful as he wished to be just then. His eyes radiating with tongues of golden-red, like the light welled up in his throat, Smaug bore down on the forest and let loose his destructive breath, incinerating the just beneath him, turning them to blackened dust, and as he rose he saw a great, dark mark upon the earth, a crater in the forest where his breath had scorched.

More food to be found in Dale, he thought, and turned that way…

[Child of the 7th Age]

They were a party of seven as they set out from the house to try and locate Rhysdan and Eric. Even tiny Eli was tucked in a sling across his mother's chest, his head drooping down since he was already half asleep, and his mother could not bear to stay behind in the house.

Each of the other family members carried a torch as they plodded steadily towards the south and east in the general direction of the river. Fortunately for the searchers, a full moon shone bright in the cloudless sky. Between the torches held aloft and the pale reflected moonbeams that bathed the ground, it was possible to see a fair distance across the land. Elanor had also thought to bring along Ruff, one of the hunting dogs, who was sure to be able to ferret out Eric if they came anywhere close to him.

Still, the trek was long and arduous. Elanor found her own head nodding and her eyes almost closing when they stopped for a moment to rest in the grass. In several spots they passed, the earth was scorched black from Smaug's attack earlier in the day. Once or twice they passed the mangled carcasses of cattle and sheep, which made Elanor tremble and fear for her brother's safety. Young Daisy had the hardest time of all. When she grew too tired to put one foot in front of the other, Uncle Arinn lifted her up on his shoulders, where she clung like a small burr.

The group plunged onward through the night, with Ruff running ahead to try and catch the familiar scent of either of those who were missing. But despite all their efforts, they found no trace of either Eric or Rhysdan. Trudging forward along the muddy ground, they came to a spot where the river narrowed. There was a tree growing immediately above the river bank, with a rope hanging down from its lowest branch.

Eli stepped forward to examine the rope, "Look here! There was a small boat docked on the shore and now it's gone." He pointed towards a small clearing amid the scattered grasses and ferns where a boat had obviously been moored, half in and half out of the river, right below the place where the rope hung down. "Someone untied the rope, or more likely forgot to tie it up when they beached the boat. Maybe the dragon scared them off when he attacked."

Elanor went over to the muddy bank and knelt in the bracken, holding her torch upright and looking intently at the tangled web of footprints embedded in the mud. What she saw caused her to leap up and run over to her father, dragging him forward to see, "Father, look here....the footprints of a young lad. I'm certain of it. And not just that. Those are Eric's shoes." She pointed to a spot where the edge of the shoe left a jagged, uneven mark.

Her mother came over and looked, "She's right, Arinn. The sole of Eric's shoe on his right foot was all run through with his toes practically sticking out. I was supposed to take him to town today to buy a new pair. I could swear this was the same imprint I saw in our farmyard before we left."

They all looked up at Arinn, wondering what he would do and say. In another hour or two, the sun would be rising.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Suddenly, Eric found himself back home at the dining room table. His mother and father were hugging him and telling him how worried they were when he did not return for so long. They vowed to pay more attention to him, just as much as they gave to Eli. Even his older twin brother was glad to see him back. His mother smiled as she brought out a large succulent turkey and a mountain of mashed potatoes. Fully content, Eric dished up his plate and dove into his food enthusiastically.

He awoke to the sound of a deafening roar. Eric arose slightly annoyed, not wanting to leave his dream world, wanting it to be real. With a start, he looked up to the rustling tree bushes where he saw the big scaly bird lunging at him, blocked by the topmost branches. He let out a scream and began thrashing in a state of frenzied panic. Large sharp pointy teeth tore at the air just feet above his head. He’s going to eat me, thought Eric. Eric tried extremely hard to stay calm and think, as he did not want to become someone else's breakfast.

He had to find a way out of here, away from this ferocious monster. Eric had never run from a fight before, but then again, he had never fought anything this big before either. The beast thrashed at the trees with its claws, gleaming and sharp as arrowheads, hurling branches to the ground and overturning stumps. Frantically, Eric’s eyes dashed back to the boat as he thought of escaping on the river. But he dismissed the idea immediately; he would be vulnerable out in the open and easy prey. Eric had to find somewhere he could hide and be protected, shielded from the monster.


His weary mind raced as he looked for a safe place. It was just like a harder version of hide and go seek, he told himself. Eric spotted a patch of thick and tangled underbrush, built almost like a wall, further into the forest and not more than ten feet away. As the dragon plunged and bellowed, Eric raced toward the strange vegetation and burrowed himself deeply within it. The beast can never reach me in here, he thought smugly. He was quite proud of himself for finding such a good hiding place and felt a good deal safer. Go ahead... try to get me in here, you big meanie.

The beast let losoe one final roar of exasperation and pushed even harder against the branch shield, seemingly in response to Eric’s challenge. A tongue of fire lashed out from its mouth, burning through the branches and etching a large black hole into the ground. Then the beast flew away, leaving Eric alone, covered in the underbrush. A strange mixture of fear and relief quelled inside his chest and he sat shivering, his mouth agape and his eyes plastered open. A scaly bird that can breathe fire, he marveled. But why was such a strange creature in Dale? Eric had lived in Dale his entire life and he had never seen anything there that such a powerful beast would want.

But what if the beast came back, Eric wondered fearfully. Next time he might not be sleeping under a branch shield. He did not know what he would do if he encountered the beast again in the open. But Eric resolved to keep going, the thoughts of his family flooding back into his pounding head. He was not going to lay hiding in this underbrush forever. Reluctantly, Eric stood up and continued walking down the forest path, trying to walk under tree cover whenever possible. He was bound to be getting close to his house, which was good, because he felt his stomach rumbling even louder than before. Hopefully somebody would get to eat breakfast today.