The Fellowship of the Fourth Age (Part 1): A New Beginning RPG

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Carl

By the time Carl revisited the spot in the camp where the metal work had been done, and had returned once more to the pit, the man named Tikam had waded into the stream and busied himself gauging the size of the crevice. “Watch yourself there,” the hobbit whispered hoarsely overhead, before dropping down a few more pieces of metal that clanked as they hit the chamber floor. The man looked up to see Carl's silhouette briefly obscured as the smithy’s leather apron followed, fluttering down heavily.

It was only as Carl hesitated, staring at the apron below him that he realized perhaps it would have been better had he tossed the things a bit further off. And reading the hobbit’s expression, without a word Tikam strode out of the water and moved the things aside. "Many thanks friend," Carl puffed as he dropped to the floor of the chamber himself. Brushing the dirt from his hands he picked up the large piece of leather and began rolling the other things in it. "So now, do you think you could fit through that chink in the wall?" he asked leaning back on his heel as he appraised the man's bulk.

"Surely, it would run too close to try," Tikam replied. “But if it proved too tight for me then so much more so it would be for an orc.”

“Well let’s hope they fit as well as the bung in a cask of Nurn’s finest. Sadly I don’t know a twig’s worth about orcs, but I hope their bones are made of ivory and not willow wands, otherwise they’ll slip through anything we do to stop them, like a mouse.” Carl said pointing to the tiny opening high above the stream. “How are we to fill that?”

“I don’t believe the smallest orc would fit there. Anyway, they are more like gutter rats than field mice! But they’ve flesh and bone same as you and I. ”

“Have they now?” Carl mused as he climbed into the water. Truth be told, he didn’t care to think too closely about the comparison. “Well one thing I do know for certain is that this chink here in the water is bigger than it seems. Are you sure you won’t have a go at it? There is a cavern on the other side and I figure it's best block it off from over there.”


Tikam held up his palms as though to ward off the very idea. “I do not like the idea of drowning overly much. But I will try to hide the openings on this side, if that would be of help.”

“If I can't do anything to change your mind, that would be the next best thing,” the hobbit said, sloshing into the water. Tikam suggested that he pass the bundle of leather through the hole once the hobbit had had the chance to reach the other side. But thinking about it Carl insisteded on tying the bundle to his ankle so that he could drag it along behind him.

The water was cold as the hobbit summoned the courage to travel once again under the stones. Then, disappearing suddenly under the water he pushed through the current that streamed through the hole. In a few short moments he emerged on the other side. Black as pitch it was, and Carl had a trying time freeing his ankle from its burden in the dark. All the while he hoped fervently that no orcs were lurking in the cavern waiting to strangle him. But when he had loosed himself from the apron he opened it and spread it over the hole, holding it in place with the metal rods he had found.

Blindly, he heaped loose stones against the wall, and silt over that, until he was too tired to do anymore. It seemed sturdy enough. Trudging weakly out of the water he plopped himself down on a dry rocky seat in the wall, resting awhile. He had not been there but ten minutes when he noticed his toe was in the water, when it hadn’t been a minute before. This was easily dismissed as his imagination. But in a few more minutes the dark water was lapping at his heel. “Oh glory, the dam is working. The water must be rising already!” he muttered, realizing that given time it would overwhelm him. Jumping back into it, he found that even now it was thigh high, and so hurriedly he began his sodden and stumbling march up the dark passage until he could see the opening onto the old stream. It shone like a beacon in a miserably flooded burrow, and Carl made for it with haste.

[Undómë]

Zagra clasped tight her sister’s hand. Ungolt’s telling of the happenings down in the camp had scared her. She whimpered a little, but at a shake of the head from her sister she stopped.

Mazhg was of two minds about the captured Orcs. On the one, she and her sister were safe.....why should they not strike out on their own, leaving those males and their problems to sort out themselves. Others of the women might be persuaded to travel along with them. Yes, that was a possibility.

But.....she looked to where Ungolt held the old sword. She wondered if Ungolt had ever used a weapon against another person. And as the woman had confessed, she really didn’t know how to use the weapon. Mazhg wondered, too, if any of the women could defend themselves if set upon. She put one arm around Zagra’s shoulders and drew her shivering sister close.

In the end, her considerations for her sister’s and her own safety won out. They would be safer in a group. And not just of women, but of men, she grudgingly conceded, whose stronger arms and skills with weapons could assure that safety.

‘Let’s make for that cave you found, Ungolt,’ she whispered, rising as quietly as she could from she crouched. She reached down a hand and pulled Zagra up alongside her. ‘I think we might be safer there for now.’ She cocked her head toward where the male Orcs had been captured. ‘Maybe when it gets real dark, we can sneak back and see if there’s anything we can do.’

[Tevildo]

Azhar sat quietly and listened while Beloan repeated Lindir's words: that everyone in the camp must make haste to gather their belongings and leave in the morning to venture across the plain.

"But why?" Athwen had prodded, "Why so soon when many lie sorely wounded?"

This time, it was the girl who responded, "In the camp, we found orcs....six sleeping orcs that the scouts seized and threw into the pit."

At the mention of the word "orcs" Dorran stood up and hurried over to where his wife stood. "Six orcs? But were there others? Orcs rarely travel in small bands."

The girl nodded her head in quick affirmation. "Yes, that's just what Lindir said. He fears they may be the advance party for a battalion of warriors coming across the plain. It's not safe here. Perhaps not safe anywhere, but it is better that we come together in a single camp. The wagon will help us. We can use it to carry anyone who cannot walk or ride."

"Orcs!" Dorran grimaced and spat on the ground. "Lindir is right. If these six are scouts, the main party will not show for a day or two. We still have a small window of time to act. It's important that we leave early in the morning and travel as swiftly as possible." He looked down at this wife and asked, "You know the state of the wounded better than I. Is this thing possible? Can we make it?" He glanced over at his wife.

[Durelin]

Khamir

Khamir was shocked when he heard shouts that “they were back,” and immediately was afraid something had gone wrong. They? The entire party, or...? When he limped over to find a cart pulling in to the makeshift camp and saw only Beloan and Azhar in it, the Southron was not sure if he should be relieved or dread even more. He was glad to see his friend, at least, and he gave the man a nod in greeting.

Beloan’s message was not bad news for the scouting party, at least, but it was for those at the camp, with so many wounded and weak to move. It would be a longer trek than it should to get all of them to the slaver camp. Athwen seemed particularly concerned, and perhaps as angry as the gentle-mannered woman could get about the matter. Khamir had hoped they would get moving again as quickly as possible, though. He hated this waiting around...waiting for more trouble, more setbacks, and more death.

“In the camp, we found orcs....six sleeping orcs that the scouts seized and threw into the pit.”

At the girl’s words Khamir felt nearly every muscle in his body tighten from a mix of fear and rage. Orcs...and so few...but their presence and their numbers was not the biggest shock: rather, it was the fact that they were captives. Orcs did not take prisoners unless they were specifically ordered to. They were animals; they didn’t show mercy. And Khamir knew that was what this was. Mercy. If that Elf knew so much about Orcs, why was he so soft?

It took a great deal of effort for Khamir to keep his mouth shut while Dorran spoke, and he broke in after the man was finished, though the Southron knew he was cutting off Athwen from answering.

“The Orcs are captives?!” he shouted angrily from behind some of the others who had gathered to greet the wagon. “They had best be dead before I get there, or I’ll have work to do…”

After his outburst, and a sigh that helped release some of his anger, he glanced at Athwen apologetically, a little ashamed.

[Tevildo]

Anger bubbled up inside Azhar as she turned to face Khamir, "They were asleep. What would you have us do? Run them through without a second thought? Lindir hopes to get them to talk. Perhaps to find out whether there are other troops nearby. But surely you would not kill someone, even an orc, in his sleep!"

Azhar whirled around to Athwen and explained. "I will go help the others prepare to leave. Darkness comes and we must be ready to move out in the morning. Hopefully, people will be in a better mood by then." With that she turned and stalked away.

[Folwren]

Athwen was stunned to silence by more than just one person’s words. To move the wounded would be difficult and possibly dangerous work. Some of the wounds, if jarred and reopened, could bleed badly, and for some of those men, to loose any more blood would likely mean losing their very life.

And then the news of the orcs was surprising, too. Dorran’s reaction was shocking to Athwen and it made her heart beat with nervousness. Dorran was rarely so obviously angry and disgusted and it nearly frightened Athwen. But Khamir’s words...pure hatred rang in his voice and his words revealed murder. Athwen’s head snapped about and her eyes flashed, but it was Azhar who responded.

“They were asleep! What would you have us do? Run them through without a second thought? Lindir hopes to get them to talk. Perhapts to find out whether there are other troops nearby. But surely you would not kill someone, even an orc, in his sleep!”

What did she mean, Lindir hopes to get them to talk? Surely he did not intend. . .

“I will go help the others prepare to leave,” Azhar said to her, interrupting her disturbed thoughts. “Darkness comes and we must be ready to move out in the morning. Hopefully, people will be in a better mood by then.” She leaped down from the wagon and started away. Athwen sent a single, reproachful look at both Khamir and Dorran, and started after Azhar.

Dorran had asked her if it was possible to move the wounded, but Athwen had not answered. Khamir had interrupted, and quite honestly, she didn’t know if it was possible. But orders were orders, and Lindir would not have given such drastic ones if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Besides, Dorran himself had said that it was necessary.

She stopped on the edge of rock sheltered hollow in which the wounded lay. Her eyes scanned her charges, her hands rested on her hips, and her lips pursed themselves together. Most of them, she decided, would make it just fine. One or two would be in possible danger. A couple would have to walk, but they would be able to manage it.

“Azhar,” she said to the girl waiting by her side. “Run back and tell them to bring the wagon is as close as they can. Then send Dorran and Beloan and any other man who can back here, to help these wounded.”

[Child of the 7th Age]

post for Lindir

Lindir stood motionless on the western edge of camp staring out across the plain. He was still worried about Aiwendil. The old man would surely have understood to meet them in the slavers' camp. Yet, despite all the elf's efforts, he had not been able to sense the wizard's presence or convey him any message. It was as if the istar had purposely shielded his mind to keep anyone from finding him. He did not think the old man was dead, but why he had done such a thing Lindir could not imagine. Perhaps Aiwendil had chanced upon a group of strangers in the wild and was trying to keep from being detected. For one instance an image of a large troop of orcs rose up and assaulted Lindir's mind, but he quickly dismissed that possibility. Orcs, even the brightest and most powerful, could not mind read.

Whatever the reason for Aiwendil's absence, the old man was sorely missed. He could have been sent back to the base camp with Azhar and be able to report back to Lindir what was going on there. As it currently stood, the elf could only hope that Beloan and Azhar had made it across the plain without meeting any orcs and that the entire camp would be arriving safely the next day.

It was the moment in the day just before darkness fell. Lindir still had enough light to traipse along the perimeter of camp and check to make sure that everything was alright. He had almost finished surveying the entire area surrounding the camp and had swung back towards the pit where the orcs were imprisoned. He could hear curses and angry cries coming up from the bottom of the rocky chamber, but the prisoners were securely fastened by heavy leather thongs and had no chance of escape. The elf reminded himself to station at least two guards on the outskirts of their campsite, more to make sure that no one was invading the camp from outside than because of any fear that the prisoners themselves would try and escape.

Lindir stood on a hillside that looked down on the pit, one that was covered with rocks and thick bushes, a perfect place for anyone to hide if they wanted to get a closer look at what was going on. Bending down to inspect the underbrush, the elf saw something that sent a bitter chill through his heart. Tracks.... Clear signs of tracks that had been left not by a man or orc, but by a horse. The tracks were fresh and deep and purposeful, suggesting that the horse that had stood here had carried a rider on his back, and a heavy one at that. A second look at the dirt only confirmed his fears. There were scuffed footprints belonging to several large two-footed creatures. At least one pair of tracks was too large to be man sized.

Lindir's fingers tightened momentarily on the hilt of his sword. Then he deftly removed the bow from his back, selected an arrow, and swung around, searching for any sign of the orc creatures who had come here with the horse. Seeing no one, he dropped the bow to his side and sprinted back to camp, calling out to everyone to join him near the fire pit. There was a heavy mist in the air that seemed to suggest a rain was coming. Quickly, the elf explained, "It is just as I feared. There are clear signs that several orcs stood gazing down on us no more than a few hours ago not far from the pit. Worst of all, they had at least one horse. I can only presume that these orcs were additional scouts who have gone back to warn the others. I am afraid we may get some visitors tonight. I only hope it is not too many." He looked around at the men and sighed, "I wish I could say otherwise but there'll be no sleep. We must station ourselves behind boulders and in the thick of the brush. We must greet them with a hail of arrows and rocks near the mouth of the pit, for that is surely where they will go. then we must charge in and attack them directly. Let's just hope their numbers are not too great."

He was about to dismiss the group when one of the men called out. "You do not know these parts. But often the windstorms come at the start of the rainy season. Already, I can feel the weather shift. The night rains are coming. I just wanted to warn you that it may be hard to see if we get a heavy rain. But there is another thing. If we find it hard to see, they may find it hard to get a good footing. That may be in our favor sisnce we attack from afar."

"I did not know that. Your words are wise," Lindir responded. "And perhaps,, just perhaps, we can help nature along. There is water in the creek, and we have several buckets. Go quickly now. Carry some of the water back to the mouth of the pit. Try to soak the ground, and then lie down a thin layer of cover, enough to hide the mud but not enough to give them real traction. The rest of you go and gather rocks along with any bows and arrows. Check the camp to see if any were left behind. Do your work quickly as we have little time before night falls, and I do not think our guests will be late."

With that the group dispersed and went to their duties.

_________________

post for Makdush

"I tell you I heard this not more than an hour ago," protested Makdush. "Two men talking, saying that the rest of their band will arrive sometime tomorrow. Who knows how big that group is? This time Ishkur is right. If we are going to free our comrades, it must be tonight. The man fools are tired. They do not know we are coming. I found a heavy rope in camp that we may draw them up one-by-one. We should only have to kill one or two guards. Surely we can do that. What will it be then? Are we soldiers or do we sit here like women " He glared over at Gwerr and Ishkur.

It was Ishkur who spoke first. "You know how I feel. From the first, I wanted to strike at these vermin and rescue the others. I say go."

Gwerr's response was longer in coming, "I do not like it. Being a soldier is one thing. Keeping my neck from being slit is another. But if what you say is true, this will be our last chance. And I would not travel north and leave them behind. We need more than the three of us to make it safely to the north. I will go. But Makdush," and here Gwerr glared, "you'd better be right about this."

"We'll leave the horse here, and other things as well," Ishkur muttered softly to Gwerr, giving no explanation as to what he meant by other things. Makdush wondered about that but there was no time to ask. The three set out towards the camp as soon as darkness bathed the plain. The rain was already coming down in a steady sheet.