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

[Tevildo]

After Carl explained some of the difficulties they might encounter in breaking through to the pit, Dorran leaned over to his wife and took her hand in his.

"You know, I must go," he whispered shakily, his words barely audible even to Athwen. "While you hold the horses and prepare your healing herbs, someone has to guard Carl and Vrór to be sure that they come to no harm and to fight off any in the camp who would prevent us from reaching those children. I've had more experience with a sword than any here except for Lindir. It seems only right that I should take up my weapon on behalf of the prisoners."

Dorran squeezed his wife's hand. "You've always been the one watching and waiting while I ride off to distant places with a sword at my side. Only this time, you'll be waiting just over the hill. I promise. I'll be careful and come back just as I've always done."

With that, Dorran turned towards Lindir and, seeing that Carl had finished speaking, voiced his own thoughts to the group. "As to the diversion, I am no expert on that. But I have raised my sword in battle many a time, and I can think of no better reason to do it again than to protect my companions who will be breaking through to that pit and to those poor unfortunate children. I pledge my sword to help take out the guard and stand against any who come against us."

Lindir nodded his head in appreciation, "I was hoping for that. I too will stand beside you with sword and bow, and together we will do our best."

The Elf turned to the others one last time and spoke. "As to the decoy, I still feel it is our best hope. We are few in number, and I would prefer to have some of these slavers busy with something else on the other side of camp." He glanced over at Aiwendil but the istar had drawn back from the circle and was quietly speaking with Rôg.

[Child of the 7th Age]

"Well, my good friend, it seems we already have diggers and fighters and an excellent healer. That only leaves the two of us. Everything has been decided except the little ruckus on the other side of camp to help take pressure off the others. That would seem to be the type of thing you and I could profitably think about and come up with a plan."

"From what I understand the animals and supplies are held on the far perimeter of camp, the exact opposite side where the children are. We'll be on our own, cut off from the others, so we could even be a little.....shall we say, creative in our tactics. If you happen to have any ideas, I'd be happy to hear and consider them. In any case, I certainly don't want to sit here and do nothing, with those poor children's lives hanging in the balance."

Aiwendil had a somewhat impish look in his eye as he sidled up closer to Rôg and tapped him on the shoulder, gently nudging him away from the circle where the others were still seated.

[piosenniel]

Rôg looked down at the ground as he scraped his toes back and forth in the dirt. ‘Horses, you know, are prey animals. They have their eyes fixed on either side of their heads to watch for attackers. They spook easily in the presence of a predator.’ He nodded his head thoughtfully. ‘And one with the smell of blood about him would send them into a panic.’

He looked over to where Aiwendil stood, leaning on his staff. ‘A two pronged thrust might be best. Making the response from the slavers a divided one.’ He laughed a little, more of an undignified snort, really. ‘Horses and food – a sure strike at the belly of their little company.’

With a stretch of his arms above his head and a flex of his backbone so that it popped satisfyingly, Rôg grinned at the old man. ‘The one I think I can handle. The other I was hoping you could provide.....some smoke and fireworks?’ He raised an eyebrow at Aiwendil. ‘I recall the King speaking of one he knew who could light up the skies with his little magics. We won’t need something quite as dramatic. Just some well placed fiery splashes near the cook and supply tents. And smoke to make a nice murky atmosphere. Lindir can look for some signal that the slavers are engaged by our little show and then proceed with the rescue. What do you think?’

The question, really, was more of an afterthought. Not waiting for Aiwendil to answer, Rôg hastened to gather up their own packs and supplies. The old fellow had a crafty look about him, he thought, as he left him leaning on his staff, brows beetling in anticipation of the night’s undertaking. Rôg was sure his companion would come up with something appropriate to the task at hand.

[Nogrod]

Hadith

The sun started showing itself from behind the distant hills and the mood among the refugees was confused to state the least. Khamir had called that they would stay for awhile because of the wounded but otherwise no one seemed to have any idea of what were they going to do. Most of the people seemed to have laid down or stick on their personal affairs so that they would not need to take any stance on anything that concerned their common future. Even Khamir had backed down by himself, leaning to the rock he had leaned before the incident with Fewerth and his fellows. But how could anyone think of sleeping after all that had happened to them? Hadith was sure that no one couldn’t, and as he had passed a number of slaves on his wandering around he had noticed it too. To his eyes they were all awake! Why are you hiding your heads now? He wanted to cry out aloud. You wanted to change the command here, so why isn’t anyone standing straight and taking the lead? What are you waiting for?

Hadith was frustrated. We all are waiting for nothing! People who are nothing, not yet ready to grasp their freedom and who end up with nothing, just being slaves again... or getting killed. How stupid! What a waste!

He was about to start yelling to all people around him when he suddenly noticed Beloan walking from beside him some yards away. “Beloan! Beloan!” he called to him and half run to the older man. Beloan had stopped when hearing the familiar voice and waited for Hadith to come to him.

“What is it, Hadith?” he asked both gently and calmly, making a faint smile to encourage the youth to speak his mind.

“Well, I was just thinking...”, Hadith began, feeling quite nervous and trying to settle his breath. After all, he realised, he was still just a boy and it didn’t actually seem to be his bussiness to get involved in the larger matters. But he had already opened his mouth and Beloan was waiting for an answer. “Well, I mean... why are we not doing anything?” He got more agitated as he managed to let out the first words. “Why is everyone just faking to be asleep or to mind their own things? It doesn’t make sense!” He was already shouting the last words.

Hadith was about to continue but Beloan silenced him with a gesture of his hand and addressed him quietly. “Not everyone is faking a sleep. Some people do actually sleep and we should give them the chance”. Beloan took a look at the boy as the first rays of the sun were reaching his hair. “But you are right. Many of them do not sleep. But you should not blame them for that. We are all afraid and confused. Maybe a little time, all of us on our own, will clear our heads? Don’t you think it possible?” Beloan had studied Hadith’s expressions intensly all the time he had spoken to the lad. Hadith nodded slowly and returned his gaze to Beloan.

“We have several badly wounded here, Hadith. If we would leave them, we could start off immediately. But are you the one ready to make that kind of decision on behalf of them and those who care for them? And if we wait for them to be well enough to move, we face other difficult questions, like how to deal with the next night and a possible raid of even more slavers? Would you like to make those decisions in a haste just to make things moving? Oftentimes hasty decisions make things move to a bad direction, Hadith. So let us wait for a while and think with clearer heads then.” Beloan shook his head slowly as in anguish himself and then looked at Hadith again. To Hadith he looked both old and tired, much older than he had looked before. Hadith was astonished about the change in Beloan and remained silent, trying to avoid his gaze.

“Hadith. Look at me.” He said with a commanding but still low voice. Hadith raised his head to meet his eyes. “Do you still feel like not getting a sleep if you tried?” Hadith was so surprised of the question that he only managed to mumble his positive answer, only intelligible accompanied by the soft nod that followed it. “Have you eaten anything lately?” Beloan continued and started untying the knots from his beltpouch. As Hadith shook his head, Beloan handed him a small piece of smoked deer from his pouch and looked at him firmly but confidently.

“Get to that larger hill over there” he said, pointing to a bit higher hill a good mile from them to the East. “We need keen eyes in a head we all can trust to give us a warning if something threatens us. From there you will spot all movement miles around from us. We’ll send someone to replace you after a couple of hours.” Hadith nodded but didn’t make a move to leave Beloan.

“Take it as an order of your old supervisor who just tries to think for us all in a situation where no one else seems to be doing it very actively”, with that he winked an eye to Hadith and turned around, starting slowly to walk towards Khamir and a few others of the original escapees.

Hadith beat the mile running lightly. The climb made him lose his breath for a while, but he recovered soon enough. Hadith really had quite a magnificient view of the surroundings from the top of the hill. Surely some lesser hills deprived him from seeing all that could have moved at the landscape, but anyone approaching them would probably get caught in his eyes sooner or later.

Hadith checked all the directions carefully before setting himself down to a smallish boulder and taking the piece of meat Beloan had given to him. He was hungry indeed.

Beloan baffled him. Partly he thought that Beloan had really trusted him with an important mission and that his watch here on the top of this hill was of the highest importance to all. But partly he thought that as he had acted somewhat childishly, Beloan had treated him accordingly and just gotten rid of him.

After he had eaten, tiredness crept along and started dizzying his head even more. The sun had risen and its warmth surrounded him from everywhere. I will not sleep, I will not sleep on duty..., Hadith kept telling himself and started counting the time he looked at each direction, drawing a line on the ground with every change as he got to the hundred.

[Child of the 7th Age]

All day the camp buzzed with activity as the slavers prepared for the coming raid. Blades were sharpened, neck collars tested, and hunting parties organized to ride out onto the surrounding plain and track down the few game animals that lived in the region so that a large group of slaves could be safely transported back to the southern plantations. Gurug slipped out at midday with instructions from Imak to spy on the slaves who were camped some six miles to the northwest. His task was a simple one: to see if the slaves were making preparations to leave the next day. If Gurug saw any indications of this, the slavers would attack that evening. Otherwise, they would take full advantage of the extra time and postpone their attack till the following night.

By the time Gurug returned and strode into Imak's tent, twilight had already fallen. Grey shadows bathed the ground, and the first stars were visible in the dusky sky. This passage of time, however, had done little to improve Imak's disposition. He was still fuming about his missing sword and had spent most of the day tearing up the camp and interrogating his men to be sure that one of his own had not used the tumult of the evening as an excuse to take it.

Glaring impatiently at Gurug, Imak barked out a series of questions, "What took you so long? I could have ridden there and back ten times. And the slave camp? What are they doing? Any sign of armed resistence or preparing to flee? Have you seen or overheard anything I should know?"

"Well, Captain, I had amazing luck. I wore old, tattered clothes and a heavy hood pulled down to conceal my face. I had no trouble approaching camp. The guards were young and inexperienced, and it was easy to slip through, even in daylight. For the most part I hid, but once or twice I actually walked among them."

Imak turned to Gurug and immediately snapped, "That was foolish. You could have been discovered. And I would not have bothered sending anyone to rescue your hide!"

"But there was no chance of that, sir. There are so many of them.....like sheep being led over a cliff. I kept my head down and asked no questons. They argue and fight. One hand does not know what the other is doing. It would be harder if they were a small, tight knit band. But with a mob of over sixty, they can not agree on anything. There's no signs of anyone preparing to leave."

"I am sick of this game," growled Imak. "I am sick of playing cat and mouse with these insolent slaves who come and steal my sword. But I am also not a fool. They are greater in number, and we could use that extra time to prepare. Tell the men we'll hold off now and attack tomorrow night, since the slaves are obviously going nowhere. Our men must redouble their preparations. Plus, as much as I love the sound of coins in my pocket, I've come to believe there's no practical way we can transport over sixty slaves back to the plantations. Let the men know there'll be fine sport after we take the camp. We'll kill off the old and feeble and anyone too young to bring a good price and then drag the others off."

Gurug was about to leave when Imak pressed him one final time. "Anything else? Did you see anything that looked strange? Anything I should know about?"

Gurug hesitated, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, before he responded, "Well, Captain, you said how some of them, at least the leaders, would have horses. That's how they got here to do their foul business. But I swear I saw no horses. and I don't see how they could have covered that ground so fast if they were on foot."

"Pah! So what am I to believe? What are you telling me?" growled Imak. "You just didn't look closely. The horses were probably tethered someplace nearby. All day, I've had riders of our own surrounding that slave camp to be sure that no one on horseback flees bearing my sword or tries to come here and rob from us again. Those horses are there, believe me. That is, unless you would have me believe we've been robbed by a band of ghosts or another party of travellers who are on a pleasaure trip across the Ash Plains. With all the trouble reported in Gorgoroth, only a fool would dare make the journey to northern Mordor. Now go. I'll keep a full five riders posted tonight outside the slave camp as well as our regular guard of two here so we can sleep and relax without fear of further mischief."

Not wanting to get into an argument he could not win, Gurug quickly conceded, "You're probably right. I just didn't look in the right place." Then he stepped outside the tent and brought the news to the other men, adding that it would be best if Imak had no visitors as their leader was immersed in planning the next night's attack. In actuality, despite the relatively early hour, Imak threw himself onto his bed and was soon snoring contentedly. Gurug spent a moment thinking about the horses. He was very sure he had searched the entire camp. But if the slave leaders weren't robbing the camp, then someone else had to be out here on the plain and, as Imak had pointed out, that wasn't very likely. He promised to himself that later in the evening he would personally patrol the perimeters of the encampment, searching for signs of other bandits. But then some enterprising fellow rolled out one of the two giant ale casks that had been lovingly stored away for a night of relaxation.

Gurug listened as he tapped into its contents and reassured the others. "Captain says we're safe. Five of our men are patrolling the outskirts of the slave camp, plus the two on guard here. We've had nothing but work and worry. So let's have a go at this. I could use a drink." All agreed with that cheerful pronuncement. Ale and conversation flowed freely and, amidst these revelries, Gurug quickly forgot his promise to search for another band of robbers.

[Regin Hardhammer]

As soon as the sun had slipped under the horizon, Ishkur had gone to the slavers' camp hoping to help himself to another meal. He was upset to find that the camp was much better guarded than the night before. Ishkur cautiously circled the entire site and counted a total of five guards, all mounted on horses and each keeping a tight eye on the pens where the other animals were held. The pickings for dinner were going to be slim. Perhaps he'd been wrong when he'd insisted that they should stay and raid again.

Ishkur's empty stomach made him bolder than usual. Cursing quietly under his breath, the orc crept closer to the middle of camp and hid behind a pile of brush and small logs that had been stacked up near one of the firepits. It was actually a foolish thing to do. One man came uncomfortably close to where he was hiding so that Ishkur had to duck down and remain still. He pulled out his sword from the sheath in case he needed to defend himself but the man had thankfully drifted by and the orc was again left alone.

Within a short time, several men had clustered around the firepit. They talked excitedly and tapped into a large keg of ale, filling their tankards several times and greedily gulping down their brew. Ishkur's mouth watered as he saw the cask and smelled the enticing aroma. He hadn't had a decent drink in a very long time, and he would give a great deal to tap into that second keg that stood off unopened to the side. Unfortunately, there was absolutely no chance for him to do that unless he wanted to risk being seen.

Instead, Ishkur listened carefully trying to make out what the men were saying. At first he understood nothing. However, as the slavers refilled their cups, their words became louder and more insistent. Each was bragging about how he would recapture a dozen or more slaves and gain a rich reward. Piecing together the scraps of conversation, Ishkur was surprised to learn that all the slavers planned to ride out from the camp the next night in order to teach a lesson to an uppity group of slaves and drag them back to the plantations that lay further south. Ishkur couldn't care less what happened in the battle beween slaves and slavers. Let them all murder each other! But he was very interested to hear that the slavers' camp would be totally deserted, perhaps for the entire night.

The orcs wouldn't be able to capture any more horses, since the slavers would take these with them to help do their fighting. But the slavers would likely leave behind a few choice donkeys that they only used for transporting food and supplies. The donkeys, however, were not the only reason that Ishkur was excited. Being only weak men instead of strong and vital orcs, the slavers couldn't drink two full casks of ale in a single night. That full keg of ale, the one that hadn't been opened, would still be there tomorrow night. Plus, the orcs would be able to ride through the camp and strip it of any personal belongings that the men had left behind. This more than made up for the fact that they were unlikely to get very many interesting things tonight.

Eager to tell his news to the others, Ishkur slipped through the shadows and onto the plain. Then he trotted back to their camp. Reaching his destination, he called out to the others: "Gwerr, Makdush, Ungolt, Grask, Zagra and Mazhg.....all of you come here! I have wonderful news. The pickings are thin tonight, although I do plan to go back later and see if I can find something to eat. But tomorrow night will be different." He then proceeded to tell them that the slavers would be going to war against the slaves and how the camp would be totally deserted with many fine things for the orcs to steal and a bountiful supply of ale to enjoy.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Most of the group had already drifted away by the time Aiwendil turned from Rôg and went over to speak with Lindir. Athwen had retreated to check on the herbs and supplies that might be needed for the children who would soon be under her care, and several others in the fellowship were carefully surveying the weapons and tools that they planned to carry into camp.

The sky was grey and darkening with the first stars of evening visible overhead when Aiwendil pulled Lindir over to one side and briefly assured him that he and Rôg would be able to create a ruckus to divert some of the attention away from the prisoners and those who were digging in the tunnel. The Elf listened and then shook his head, "I have been worried about you two. Are you certain you want to do this? We may be just fine without a diversion."

Aiwendil stared straight at Lindir, a peevish look shadowing his face, "Come now. I have been creating mischief for a good many more years than you have been alive on Arda. I will be just fine."

With a sigh, Lindir replied, "My friend, be sensible, it's not you I am worried about. Your companion, though a hard worker, seems to have little familiarity with a sword."

"As to his training with a sword, I can not say. But Rôg has many skills that can be put to good use on the field of battle."

"I do not doubt his heart or will, but these are hard and demanding times."

Aiwendil quickly countered, "I'll keep an eye on the young man and make sure he comes to no harm. You have my word on that."

"You wouldn't want to give me any more information on what the two of you have planned." The words were spoken more as a statement than a question.

"We are still working things out. Only do not be alarmed if you hear some loud noises or see bright lights. And Rôg has an idea that may actually draw some of the men away from camp."

"Just be careful," Lindir pleaded. "I have no wish to explain to Elessar why two of his trusted emissaries met their end even before we could speak with the slave leader."

Aiwendil nodded in agreement, and, within a very short time, the entire party had mounted up and was riding towards the slavers' camp. At first Lindir headed slightly west leading the group to the half-concealed thicket where Athwen was to stay with the horses and prepare for the children. The rest of the fellowship waited a moment at a discrete distance to allow Dorran to say his private goodbyes to his wife. Then they turned to the east carrying both tools and weapons. By the time the moon was visible overhead, they had come to the outskirts of the slavers' camp.