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

[Undómë]

Brenna


Old habits die hard, and especially for one who has been under the thumb…the eye..the lash of others for so long. The old feelings came up, shouting Danger! Be quiet; be small! Invisible…

Brenna was rooted to the spot she stood on..and that standing a precarious one from the blow she’d received from the slavers. Her eyes were cast down, shoulders hunched, arms hugging herself, as if to make her already small frame smaller still. There were angry words flying about and strong gestures and posturings. She shrank away from the hot words, the fiery waves that flashed from person to person.

Brenna withdrew to a small rise apart from those who were talking. And while it brought her some feeling of safety, it brought only a cold comfort. Two children were gone, snatched back by foul hands to that hateful life they had hoped was left behind.

‘Kwell…Azhar…’ she spoke aloud. Naught but the night and a small bird, a nightjar she thought, perched on the twisted limb of a stunted tree nearby could hear her. ‘I remember now.’ Their faces emerged from the crowd of those on the dusty trail of their escape route. ‘Those were their names; the ones those fiends took away,’ she said aloud again, making them more real to herself. ‘Kwell and Azhar. They were just at that twist in the road leading on to being a man, being a woman.’ She rubbed at her eyes. ‘Those demons should have taken me. I’ve spent all my life under the lash. What would a few more years matter.’ She rolled up her ragged sleeve, baring her left arm. The skin of her forearm bore an old scar, nearly lost amid the old bruises and scars left from hard work and punishments. It marked her as a slave, as someone who belonged to someone, somewhere.

She held her arms up in the moonlight. ‘But not forever…not forever…’

Brenna sat back down, her hand straying to a small flat rock lying near. ‘Bran, Nevan,’ she sighed, bringing her brothers’ still young faces into her mind. She picked up the stone, turning it over and over in her hand. ‘If only you would find me. You would stand up for the two taken, I’m sure of it. You would shout we should go north and take them back.’ She took out her small scythe and began to scratch a design into the stone’s surface. A few tears fell on the marks and she hastily wiped them away with her sleeve. ‘But I can’t…I can’t…’ She balanced the rock carefully on a pile of twigs near her little camping space.

Pulling her ragged shawl about her thin shoulders, she looked up toward the moon, wishing it were the sun instead and they were up and on their way to somewhere. Running or rescue…either, as long as they were moving along, no time for thinking. The small, plain bird hopped along the branch, craning his head at her, one bright black eye giving her a considering look.

‘Little Bird,’ she murmured, rocking back and forth a little on her haunches. ‘That’s what they called me…my brothers…when we played our games of hide and seek…’

[Nogrod]

Hadith & Johari

Rebellion! This is rebellion! Hadith was shocked for what he heard. Johari had started it and then Eirnar had followed. Now many others were murmuring and exchanging angry glances around, searching for a culprit. Why are they rising against those who try to help us and without whom we would be lost? Hadith just couldn’t understand. We wouldn’t have any weapons, we wouldn’t know what to do... During his two months of freedom he had learned that there were lots of things he knew nothing about or didn’t understand at all, but still the reality managed to surprise him time after time, especially this day.

And he was even more puzzled of Eirnar’s calls. If one or two of the wisest old stagers shouldn’t decide, then who should? Surely I couldn’t decide, neither could Eirnar, or the children for that matter... Too important for just one man to decide? But how could we decide it together as we all are with so different minds about what to do?

Hadith rose up leaving Khala and Cuáran to take care of the older man. The older women exchanged looks shaking their heads. “He’s too young and naive to meddle with this kind of things”, Khala said to Cuáran quietly. “Should I call him back? His mother would have.”

“Maybe you should, but he might learn something from this.” Cuáran answered thoughtfully, handing the last clean linens to Khala. “If there is time for anyone of us to make use of what we have learned in life...” she muttered, watching emptily to the horizon. Khala nodded and secured the last knot on the bandages of the older man.

Hadith spotted Johari some twenty yards away from him. She was standing straight, looking around her defiantly, seemingly pleased of the reaction she had roused. “Johari!” he shouted and ran towards the woman, not giving a second thought of what he was doing.

“What are you doing?” he called to her in anguish, panting from the run as he approached. “You are not helping us, you are making things worse!” he yelled at her as he finally reached her. He was more than agitated but tried to remain as calm as possible. He saw many heads turning to hear this exchange of words. To his horror he noticed that also Khamir was near enough to probably hear what he was saying.

“Why, Johari? Why?”

"Making things worse?" Johari raised her eyebrows skeptically. "They are already bad, and need to be fixed. How others choose to react is not my responsibility - all the better if they listen."

Hadith was again totally baffled by her answer. He just couldn’t see the link between fixing things and arousing unrest in a time of trouble. "If we just quarrel here and rise against one another, we'll surely be lost!" he exclaimed fervently. "How do you fix it without those who know better than we do?"

Exasperation was clear in Johari's face. "Without them? I never said that. I told them to fix it."

Hadith was speechless for a moment. In his passion he probably had mixed the calls of Johari and Eirnar together to a one dangerous idea that could turn all in chaos and against which he would have to fight. But it was also true, that he seemed to be a bit confused when he talked with Johari anyway. Her answers were not the ones that could be anticipated and thence it was really hard to discuss with her as easily as with others. Still, that didn't change his basic frustration.

"Don't you think they are thinking about what's best to us already?" he asked her in the end. "Do you think that rousing all the people helps them with their thinking?"

"What are you now, their spokesperson?" asked Johari, rapidly becoming annoyed. "Whether they're thinking of our welfare or not, what they're doing is not working, and I do not intend to be unprepared when the slavers come back for us. You may have been 'rewarded' with a knife, but look at the rest of us, why don't you? I'm looking out for myself, Hadith, and I don't care too much about what the rest of the people here make of it." Her dark eyes glittered dangerously, daring him to challenge her further.

Hadith saw the fire in her eyes and took a step back just to be on the safe side. This woman really has temper. How are you supposed to get on with this kind of people? Hadith was quite at loss.

But something she had said had hit him and hit him hard. The way she uttered the word 'rewarded' brought all his self-accusations and his own insecurity to the fore. Against his better judgement he answered, seeking so calm tone of voice he could amidst the maelstrom of his feelings.

"There is only certain number of arms around. They have given them to those they have deemed able to yield them to secure us all. Is there a more reasonable way you would have distributed them?" A certain defiance had crept into his voice as he uttered the last words. He looked at Johari firmly but was totally panicked inside.

Hadith had pushed Johari beyond reason. Who was he, barely more than a boy, to deign to tell her what to do? Annoyance giving way to fury, in a single movement she stepped forward to close the gap once more and drew back her fist, punched him squarely beneath his eye, and watched in satisfaction as he staggered backwards. "And how are my actions any business of yours, oh worthy one?" she spat, turning away from him coldly.

All seemed to black out for a second for Hadith but he regained his balance. Had Johari been any of the men in the camp, he would have jumped after him and given the punch back, preferably a couple more. But being raised by one’s mother and other older women that possibility never actually passed his mind. He had been taught that women should never be hit or mistreated physically and he had learned it well.

Hadith just bit his lip and swallowed his tears. He felt so powerless in front of all this. Why didn’t anyone just tell everyone else what to do and get them to safety? He would gladly do his part if someone would just tell him, what that part was. Even though it had been hard to think, he had been enthusiastic about the possibility of there being no one right answer to all things earlier in the day. But now as the insecurity and uncertainty was so real and imminent, he felt just frightened and alone.

[Nogrod]

Gwerr

Gwerr couldn’t raise his eybrow because of the metal plate that had been stiched over his eye. But had he been able, he surely would have done it. So Ishkur, you’re hungry and you get a piece of meat – from me! - and immediately you are ready to make brothers with these travesties of an orc who promise you more! Gwerr couldn’t believe his one eye or his ears. Just like a puppet echoing the words of his master! Just what they want from you!

It was bad enough that Makdush had overheard their discussion, but he had actually come forwards with his brutes to show a muscle. Gwerr was boiling over with anger. He groped for a curse strong enough but failed in it. In his frustration he only managed to whisper to himself: “Oh darn you dratted rise-and-shines!”

And hey! This getaway was my idea! Well, mine and Colagar’s, but whatever... These Uruks are just hang-arounds, vermins on board! And what is Ishkur thinking? He joined the already made plan himself and now he tries to act as a leader with an established peace-treaty with these over-muscled baby-boomers!

It took a few thousand years of experience from Gwerr to stay silent and just to grit his teeth to Makdush and his fellow Uruks as they walked away. As the Uruks had gone, he looked at Ishkur in the eye, his eye flaming. “You just beware. For your own good... and ours. Those are no mister nice-guys and they mean us no good!” by that he went off, searching for a pit or hole to protect himself from the sun that had already reached them over the plains.

But Gwerr couldn’t sleep. He was too agitated for it. He feared the Uruks coming to slit their throats if they would fall asleep. And they had made no arrangements to have guards in the first place! So he remained in the shelter of a depression on the ground he had found, but kept being awake. Tomorrow we will have to talk this over with Colagar and Ishkur – and I won’t be sleeping if there is an Uruk left guarding our sleep! But the longer he laid there awake, the more he started pondering the words of Makdush. He actually seemed to know something about the traffic on these lands and surely they could do with some additional meat. He himself had provided himself for a long journey but clearly all hadn’t. And as the initial plan had bankrupted, the situation was different now. With this small group, all the few females were important too, even if they would have not taken care of their preparations.

So maybe we should follow Makdush’s idea tomorrow? Oh, darkness under! What foolery! Gwerr was getting irate again. But if he knows, he knows. And if he’s hungry, he might lead us to some food. Maybe Ishkur is not so dum at all, maybe he’s just faster than me? The thought was at the same time worrysome and relieving. An orc with nothing to eat for a long journey... Gah! But maybe he still had his brains left? We must discuss this as the evening comes along. Even though he tried to avoid it, he fell asleep in the end.

[piosenniel]

It was quite easy to find his way back to the where his companions had made their camp. Two fires had been lit, more to drive back the darkness that was coming than for warmth he thought. He smiled in the darkness, enjoying the warmth of the night. The heat the breezes bore reminded him of the southern lands where he had spent much of his young life.

Rôg stood in the shadows looking for Aiwendil. He moved into the flickering light of the fire, just at the faded edges of it and motioned to the old man the moment he caught his eye.

He hastened toward Aiwendil, the excitement of his find evident in his bearing. Noting the faces of the some of the others that had turned toward him as he hurried toward Awendil, he paused, composing himself to give his report.

‘Those bats! I believe I’ve found the colony,’ he exclaimed loudly taking the old man aside. He pitched his voice lower, noting most of the others had turned back to their own discussions. ‘Step over here,’ Rôg said, taking Aiwendil’s elbow as he maneuvered them both away from the fire. He took out his knife and squatted down, motioning for his friend to do the same. He smoothed out the dirt in front of him and drew a crude map. Using the point of his blade he pointed to various areas as he spoke to Aiwendil, pausing often to answer questions.

At one point his face grew angry, disgusted, as he spoke. And the two fingers he held up to emphasize a point were accompanied by a shaking of his head and a narrowing of his eyes as if he were considering an abhorrent subject.

Rôg turned a questioning face to Aiwendil when he’d finished speaking. ‘So, shall I?’ he asked as he stood up. He scuffed away the scratchings in the dirt with his bare foot and looked away, to the north, awaiting an answer.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Ishkur woke just before the sun set over the horizon. If they expected to travel very far tonight, the group needed to start running now. With any luck they would find something to eat before the sun rose again. Ishkur could not believe that Makdush had agreed with his plan to head north and look for travelers to steal from. He wondered if the sneaky Uruk had some special reason for going that way or another secret plan, but Ishkur felt much too hungry for his suspicion to stop him from going. Ishkur was upset that Gwerr, whom he had thought of as a friend, would not embrace his plan as much as a true enemy like Makdush had done. Even though Gwerr had given Ishkur a small strip of meat to eat, his stomach still grumbled. But they would not find food at all if they did not leave this desolate, empty plain and head north immediately.

Most of the others were still asleep. Shouting and stomping, Ishkur managed to wake everyone and get them ready to go, even the troublesome women. Some of the orcs flashed him menacing glares as he passed, angry at being roused so early. Ishkur completely ignored them, since he was not much concerned with how the others saw him but very determined to get food soon. He merely grunted back at them, screaming at everyone to get on their feet and start moving. After a few minutes the camp was taken down and the orcs began their march north.

The march north was long and boring. The ground stretched out in a flat plain for miles on end. To make matters worse, Ishkur’s stomach only increased its growling every mile that he covered. Their pace was fast, spurred by the stark necessity of finding food. Once, Ishkur even stopped and shoved some berries in his mouth that grew on a bush they passed. They tasted bitter and did not look appetizing, but he forced himself to swallow them in one great gulp. To have been reduced to eating berries made Ishkur feel ashamed, but no one else seemed to be looking at him as he swallowed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several others do the same.

Suddenly Ishkur and the others heard the braying of donkeys and the neigh of horses just ahead. In one of the rare hills that dotted the plain there was a small wooded copse where it appeared someone had set up camp. Eagerly the orcs raced forward to see if, in fact, their guess was right. To their delight they saw that they had stumbled upon a camp of twenty to thirty men. The metal traps with jagged teeth and heavy rusted iron collars lying around the camp declared that these men were slavers. They captured humans and then sold them off to large plantations for forced labor. Ishkur had once acted as an overseer for slaves on one of the plantation on Nurn. It seemed that although he had escaped from Nurn, his experiences at Nurn continued to follow him. He never really liked the slavers; they often insulted the orc overseers when they came to sell. Very often they cheated the orcs by concealing blemishes on the humans they sold and charging the same amount as for healthy workers. The Uruks, who usually were the ones directly involved in these transactions rarely caught on, but Ishkur could see when they had been duped into purchasing damaged merchandise.

Ishkur forgot all about his past however, when he saw that the slavers had brought some donkeys and horses with them. Ishkur drooled slightly as he gazed longingly at the plump donkeys that were tied up in the corner of the camp closest to the orcs. He could not have imagined a more perfect scene. The slavers, tucked away in their tents and fast asleep, would not even hear if the orcs stole a few of their pack animals and ate their tasty meat. The slavers had stationed a guard outside of the camp, but he stood on the far side and did not see the group approach. The group now stood so close to the unsuspecting beasts that Ishkur almost could almost taste that donkey rump in his mouth.

[Child of the 7th Age]

A distant coyote sounded and, with a start, the prison guard awoke, stretching and yawning. Khanun cursed his bad luck for having fallen asleep. Half panicked, he peered down through the open grating into the murky darkness of the pit, and was relieved to see that the slave children were still bound in ropes and sleeping. Lucky for that, he grimly reflected. since Imak had little tolerence for mistakes.

Khanun scooped up his water flask, which had apparently slipped from his hand while he was asleep and rolled over to just outside the entrance of the pit. He had forgotten to give the prisoners water as Imak had ordered. Though not adverse to laying on the whip or threatening the captives within an inch of their lives, Imak repeatedly warned his men that the merchandise must arrive in usable condition. For a moment, the guard considered climbing down into the pit and helping the pair drink from the flask as he'd been told. But a moment's reflection dispelled that idea. It was too much effort to put forth, and one night without water surely wouldn't kill two captives, especially one as young and sassy as that confounded boy who'd put up such a fight. Khanun rubbed the spot on his arm where the imprint of the boy's teeth were still clearly impressed and decided that the two could go without water for a little while longer.

Still, it would be better to empty the flask so that Imak would think he had followed instructions. He wasn't particularly thirsty and at first considered pouring the contents onto the ground or perhaps into the pit itself to give the children a drenching. But water in these parts of Mordor was precious and, even to a cut-throat brigand, this seemed like an unnecessary waste. Khanun stretched and yawned for a second time and decided that the water could be put to much better use. It wouldn't do to fall asleep again. Undoing the stopper and rasing the flask upward, the guard began pouring the contents over his head.

[Folwren]

The water splashed refreshingly over his face and neck but he only emptied half of its contents before something solid fell with the water. Khanun jumped with the first initial surprise and then started back with half a cry of fear as he realized what it was. A small, thin, cold and wet snake twined its tail about his ear and his body about his nose. Khnaun jerked back, dropping the flask of water, and yelled again. He tilted his head back forward in a wild attempt to knock the snake off as his hands struck at it, but instead of falling to the ground, the small reptile half slithered, half fell into the loose and open neck of Khanun’s shirt.

The guard leaped to his feet in a panic. Poisonous snakes were not uncommon in Mordor and an uncontrollable fear of being bitten by this thing filled all his sane mind. He jumped about frantically while his hands struggled to untuck the shirt from his breaches. Unmindful of the sleeping men nearby and the children beneath him, often random yells burst from his mouth, though he didn’t actually say anything. Finally, with shaking and trembling hands and a face blanched white beneath the unshaven beard and layers of dirt, he got the shirt free of his belt and the snake dropped to the ground. In a moment it had slithered off to safety among the rocks and bristling plant life.

Only at that moment did Khanun realize that he had awoken everyone in the camp. He looked up with wide eyes at the other men. To his great surprise and furry he saw that they were laughing. Laughing! There was absolutely nothing funny about the thing. He might have been killed! Worse than that, he now saw, was that he had made himself out to be an idiot.

“Who did it?” he bellowed with a passion. “Who dared to put that thing into my water?”

One of the men guffawed loudly. “Gar, I wish it were me who’d thought o’ it,” he laughed. “What a spectacle you made!” He stood up and began to jump and flap about like some great rooster courting a hen. The others howled with laughter. All of them, that is, save Imak. He stood up and caught the dancing mocker by the collar and brought him to a stand still.

“In all seriousness – who did do it?” he asked. “There’s no time for pranks like that. If the thing was poisonous, someone could have been hurt. Who was it?”

Everyone was silent. Khanun stood glaring at them all furiously and Imak looked coolly from one face to the next.

“Nem – you?” he asked sharply. The man mutely shook his head. He looked to the next man. “You?” In turn, each of them denied the charge.