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

[Nogrod]

Hadith

At first there were not many reactions to Hadith’s speech and that made him all the more lost. Others seemed to be as baffled as he himself was. Hadith hadn’t quite been able to follow himself anyhow. What had made him to speak out aloud, even speaking against Khamir? Well, he had defended Khamir too. What is this? What is happening? So this is freedom: not knowing what to do as you at last have the choice and you have to make it solely by yourself?

Hadith stood there, standing straight and drawing breath, deep inhales followed by as long bursts that started to make foggy patterns in the air. It was getting colder.

I’ve been a slave all my life. It’s almost like from the moment of my birth I have been a slave. I will not go back to that, even if it costs my life. I have no memory of not being a slave... What might it be, to have memories of being free? How it would help now!

Hadith took a look around. First his eyes met with Joshwan some twenty yards away from him. Joshwan nodded to him approvingly. Hadith was unsure about how to react, but nodded Joshwan back slightly. Then Joshwan turned to argue about something with Fewerth, tugging him on the shoulder. Guilledean was there too, just looking at what happened from aside.

Then Hadith met Johari sitting on her own, seemingly deep in her thoughts but looking and listening intensely at a group of women on her left. Hadith tried to hear the discussion too. It was about arming themselves and fighting with planting sticks or something. Then he heard Granny Brenna saying: “Keep your sticks and slings handy, my friends”. He didn’t hear the next sentence, but then again the following was loud and clear as Hadith had instinctively started moving towards the group. “And one of us should keep watch for a while, then wake me and I’ll take over for the next bit. Nia, can you do that? Sun’s rise can’t be that far away.”

Hadith approached the women with confidence in posture but inside he was even more baffled than he had been before. What am I doing? What am I going to say to them?

“Friends! Let’s plan together, all of us?” Hadith called the women from some ten yards away as his approach was noticed. Brenna looked him straight in the eye and Hadith started to feel even more insecure. He had learned to respect older women and Brenna really had a commanding presence. He remembered her from the camp now.

"I mean that if we all just stick together in small groups, its of no use... I mean... erm... I mean we should all hold together..."

Hadith stopped and was not sure where to lay his eyes.

[Tevildo]

Tevildo's post for Dorran

It was a long time till Dorran replied. "It's strange, Lindir. For so many years, I dreamed this day would come. Somehow, someway, I wanted to get back to Mordor. I thought I might be able to do something for those who were still enslaved. Maybe that's one of the reasons I became a Rider. I learned how to wield a sword and to work with horses. I felt privileged to serve King Eomer and the people of Rohan."

"After Sauron was overthrown, I felt certain the whole system in Nurn would collapse on its own. But that did not happen. I kept hearing stories from merchants and soldiers that old plantation owners were simply replaced by new ones. Even without the presence of Sauron, the evil ways persisted. I left here with my sister when I was young yet so many of my memories, so many of my bad dreams, hearken back to here. My parents and older brother were victims of the slave system. Creide and I were lucky to escape alive."

"I have never been good with words in front of a group. I feel more comfortable on the back of a horse or even carrying a message to the court of Gondor where I can speak with someone face-to-face. But I won't say no. I can not. You or Aiwendil would be much more eloquent than I could hope to be. But I can tell them what happened to me. I know something of the nightmare they have lived through. And I can promise them that it is possible to build a new life."

Dorran turned a serious face towards Lindir and nodded. "They will fight. I know you are worried about that, but you shouldn't be. The first thing your learn as a slave is that nothing comes easy....everything has a price. And when you step off that plantation, you learn quickly that nothing worthwhile comes without a fight. Sometimes that fight requires a sword, and sometimes it doesn't. But nothing is gained by running away. If we explain to them why we just can't run away to the north, how the slavers might follow them or do even worse to others they meet, the men will listen, and they will follow. I can't promise you sweet or eloquent words, but I will do my best."

Child's post on Lindir

"That is all I could ask for, Dorran. And I pray you are right about these men. We have come a long way, but it is no good if the will is not in them. They must find it in their own hearts. Then we can stand together against these slavers, and whatever else threatens us on the trek north."

Lindir stood up and swept his eyes towards the north. A faint glow, harbinger of the dawn, was barely visible over the horizon. "Look there, Dorran to the north. One of the old Towers left by the former residents, probably to mark the supply route for carrying materials up to Sauron and his troops. Undoubtedly, a place of nightmares. Yet this land and even that tower is strangely compelling. Strange, but it reminds me of parts of Beleriand far to the north. So beautiful in a stark way. Yet those lands in Beleriand no longer exist. They are under the Sea. Let us hope we have more luck here. Let's hope we can somehow preserve what is good here. Ah, now, that is strange, too. In Rivendell, I would never have dreamed of calling parts of Mordor good or beautiful. Yet there is goodness here buried deep. Let's hope these new settlers can somehow feel that goodness and learn to build on it."

Lindir helped Dorran up, and the two walked back to where the others were gathering. Lindir called to the others, "If everyone is done then, could we mount up and get moving west? We should get there just before dawn." With that Lindir mounted his horse and looked around to be sure everyone was following.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Carl

Carl, his clothes still damp, stood by the horses for a moment with his eyes closed. Not having had much sleep over the last few days, standing still lent the chance to rest his eyes for a space. Just the shortest time he told himself, while Athwen saw to the needs of those requiring her skill, and Lindir discussed matters with Dorran beyond the weary hobbit’s hearing. But when Carl’s nose caught the familiar scent of tobacco in the air, he thought he might go sit down while he waited, for surely he was drifting off while on his feet, dreaming of the comforts of home. Still, he could not bring himself to open his eyes in order to find a place to rest.

As his chin sank slowly to his chest, Carl imagined he was sitting at home beside the fire. His pipe was full, though his stomach felt empty as he deliberated with himself over the best way to approach Athwen regarding her stone. He knew now was not a good time to try to explain, for she was busy with more pressing things. And surely it would not be right to tell her on the road either, and so spoil her disposition in time for meeting those they would be working closely with, in the near future. There was nothing he could do, but merely wait until things settled down a bit. The hobbit’s jaw worked rolling the stem of a phantom pipe between his teeth, as he leaned back in the overstuffed chair he didn’t remember being there. He considered what might happen if Athwen discovered things on her own before he had gotten round to telling her, and wondered as he wandered in that mental haze rapidly approaching sleep, whether it would be advisable to escape to The Ivy Bush for a few days in that event. Perhaps it might be best take Dorran and Athwen to the inn tomorrow for a nice meal, and tell them there. If they wanted to, Azhar, Kwell and Shae could join them too, for the slavers would not think to find them there. And you can’t wax too sour with one of Miss Lilly’s pies under your belt, no matter how angry you are. He was smiling with fond remembrance, when he felt someone shake his shoulder.

At the second attempt to wake him, the hobbit’s eyes fluttered opened, and he found that he stood propped up against Stumps. And looking confusedly at the figure before him, Carl wondered just how long Kwell had been at The Ivy Bush, and since when did Miss Lilly allow Stumps in her kitchen!

The young man had to explain a second time that Athwen had said to ask him for bread to eat. But Carl was still foggy and it took him a few minutes to regain his bearings. Finally the hobbit sputtered to life saying, “Bread and water! You look like you could use a bit more than that, if you’ll excuse my saying so.” And rummaging though packs and bags, the hobbit produced some dried fruit as well as the items requested, placing them in Kwell’s hands. “The bread’s a tad stale, I’m afraid,” he apologized. “But a man like yourself has got to eat plenty, and it’s the best we have at present.”

But boy did not need to be coaxed, making short work the food, as Carl watched him. And the hobbit wished he had more to give, but knew that they must be careful, for their stores were running lower than he would have them. “You know,” Carl began, and the dark haired boy looked over at him. “Once we get though all this, and you and the others have a place to call your own, I’ll make you a nice meat pie that you won’t soon forget. And you can sit down and have it all to yourself, if you like. I’ll set aside a bit of flour, just for it.”

“I’ll look after myself, now I’m out of that pit,” Kwell said, handing back the water skin.

“I know that,” Carl said. “And like a foraging bear, no doubt. It’s just that you seem to like food, and I like to see folk enjoy a good meal, that’s all. Makes me happy. I suppose it’s one reason why I work the land to begin with.” Then remembering their talk in the pit, he was quick to add, “That is, if you decide to stay with us. If not, I’m sure I’ll find other takers, especially when they smell the thing cooking. Never had to trouble with leftover pie in the past.”

Kwell pursed his lips and nodded as though weighing the matter.

“Ah well,” Carl sighed, hanging the water skin back on the pony, as Lindir approached calling for them to be off. The hobbit turned again to Kwell, and cocking his head, he winked, “No need to decide that just now, is there? We seem to be on the move again.”

[Undómë]

Brenna

Brenna was sitting on the little hillock, her shawl wrapped about her tightly. Her gaze flicking from one pool of shadow in the darkness to another. She glanced up as the young man approached, swallowing a smile at his nervous demeanor. She set a serious, considering look on her face.

He’d stopped a few feet away from her, held back, she supposed, by the merciless burden of her own years and his own youth. Still, and despite the fact he was a male, they were in the same fix, now, weren’t they?

The young man’s gaze flicked nervously about the ground, inspecting it seemed each pebble as if it were the most important thing in his world at the moment. Brenna smiled, in spite of herself, and bent her head down to the side, catching his eye. ‘I’m Brenna; Granny Brenna, if you wish. You’ll forgive my memory. I seem to remember your face, but can’t for the life of me remember your name.’

As she waited for his thoughts to untangle and him to speak his name, Nia came up, planting stick held defensively in her hands. She laid her hand on Brenna’s shoulder as she reached the old woman and shook her stick fiercely at Hadith. ‘What do you want, you boy you? You better not be bothering Granny!’ Others of the women and girls had waked up now, and come to stand silently behind Brenna and Nia.

‘It’s all right, dears,’ Brenna said, speaking calmly to those gathered. ‘He’s just saying that maybe we and the men should put our strengths together. Against the slavers. At least for now. Right . . .?’ She picked up her own planting stick and poked the young man lightly on the leg. ‘Now perhaps you can begin by telling us your name. And your plan, if you have one.’

Nia lowered her own stick at Granny’s words, but kept a very attentive and slightly skeptical eye on the fellow . . .

[Durelin]

Adnan

Watching Hadith stand up and speak to the entire camp, actually willingly taking on a position of leadership, was nearly awe-inspiring for Adnan. This young man was only a few years older than him, and he was addressing everyone...and most everyone seemed to be listening? Hadith may have faltered several times, but he still left Adnan amazed, and everyone else at least surprised. The eighteen year old had more strength and courage than Adnan ever thought he would have, but he did not know just how much that meant. To think standing up to your friends and allies seemed like such a more daunting task than standing up to your enemies.

The strength and energy and sincerity in Hadith's voice made Adnan wonder: was that what it meant to be free?

There was a moment or two of silence until someone spoke up, and the fifteen year old was surprised - yet again - to find that it was an old woman, who apparently even called herself "Granny Brenna." What showed of her elderly body, particularly her face, was so weathered and cracked with age that one might estimate her age at practically eighty, but anyone who understood what life was like in Mordor would know that looks could be decieving. The land made old men out of young long before time did.

Another woman seemed to think she needed to defend this Granny Brenna, which set Adnan's thoughts spinning a little more. Why on earth would she feel the need to be waving her stick around at Hadith? Would she be prepared to wave that blasted stick at some black-gutted Easterlings instead? The young man practically snarled. This time...

"He's just saying that maybe we and the men should put our strengths together. Against the slavers. At least for now. Right?"

"Well of course we should!" Adnan burst out before he could stop himself, sounding a little more furious than he meant to. A blush filled his cheeks, but his stubborness stopped him from saying anything to take his words back in the least. Looking at the ground for a moment, as if he would find some sort of revelation there, he continued only after a pause that said what he said was what he meant.

"They're after us, so we should be after them. And it's us they're after, not just one or two of us..." he trailed off into a mutter as the anger that fueled his momentary bravery passed.

[Child of the 7th Age]

After Shae’s wounds were cleansed and bandaged, the rest of the party collected on the grassy knoll that faced west and set out at an easy lope. There was no sign that they were being followed.

As Lindir had suggested, the riders doubled up so no one had to walk. At first Azhar rode behind Athwen, but, after they had gone a short distance, she had lost her grip and nearly tumbled onto the ground. The girl was still groggy and weak from fever. Needing a stronger hand to steady her, Azhar had been lifted up and placed in front of Lindir. The elf wrapped one arm about her waist and cradled his body close to hers. She was obviously ill, and even Athwen had not known what was causing the fever. Lindir could hear the girl’s light, uneven breath and observe her pallid face. Leaning back on his shoulder, she slipped in and out of consciousness. These unexplained symptoms did not bode well. Once or twice, Lindir thought he heard her softly mouth the name “Rôg”.

Before the elf could give any thought to this new mystery involving Rôg, the riders had arrived on the outskirts of camp. Lindir could see half a dozen tiny campfires flickering in the distance. The camp was located in a broad vale that lay just below their feet, partially hidden by a ring of bracken and bushes, yet still visible to anyone who might approach from the outside plain. At Lindir’s request, Shae had come up beside him; he had also asked Kwell to ride near the front of the small band, explaining “I will need both of you, to help talk us into camp.”

As the horses went downhill and picked their way through the tangle of stunted vegetation, Lindir posed a question for Shae and Kwell: “Do you know where the guards are stationed?”

His question was met by four insistent blasts from a ram’s horn, sounding not more than twenty feet away. Two figures darted out behind them and another to the front, all converging with swords and daggers outstretched. At the base of the hill from the camp itself, Lindir could hear the sound of a hoard of tramping feet hurrying to reach them.

Raising both hands above his head to prove he harbored no ill intentions and signaling the others to do the same, the elf cried out, “We come from Elessar. We bring the prisoners from the slavers’ camp. Your own people will vouch for us.” Lindir glanced over at Kwell and Shae and gestured that one of them should speak.

[Brinniel]

Shae stared back at Lindir, her eyes wide.

He wants me to speak up.

What was she supposed to say? Shae was no public speaker. She spent the years huddled in a corner, keeping to herself was clear evidence of that she never desired attention. But Lindir did not know that. He had only just met her.

The woman eyed the crowd before her. They stared back at her and the strange new company, the expressions on their faces curious and timid. By now they had all given up on any sort of outside help. How was she to tell them that they had been wrong? Shae opened her mouth to speak, but before she could come up with any words, Khamir stepped forward.

The one-armed man stared at the Fellowship, then to the children, and finally to Shae. The expression on his face was more confused than anything.
"Shae....?" he asked, puzzled. "....But how?"
"It doesn't matter how," she answered simply. She glanced back at those behind her. "This is the Fellowship. The aid from Gondor you so quickly gave up on." Then she raised her voice for the other ex-slaves to hear. "They are here to help us. Help us start a new and better life. We are already in their debt, for they have rescued the children that were taken." She pointed at Kwell and Azhar. "And...we should listen to what they have to say."

Had she said enough? Shae glanced back at the elf, who nodded in response. Already, a commotion had begun to spread throughout the crowd of ex-slaves. The young woman could already see that not all were pleased with this new arrival. The Fellowship stepped forward towards the ex-slaves and Shae took initiative to follow, but she was pulled back by Khamir.

"Why did you leave like that?" he asked, furiously, his hand still wrapped around her arm.
"What?" The woman was surprised at the Southron's sudden anger.
"Just answer the question, Shae."
"Those children needed help," she spoke solidly. "And since you weren't about to do anything about it, I decided to accomplish the task alone."
"You shouldn't have gone. That was foolish of you, Shae." His grip on her arm tightened. "You could've been killed. Why didn't you say anything?"
Shae pulled back from Khamir's strong grasp. "I didn't say anything because I knew this exactly how you would react," she replied, angrily. "You really think I'm not strong enough to defend myself? Well look- not only did I kill a man tonight, but I brought back an entire Fellowship! What does it take to convince you that I'm not some....child..." Shae's eye fell onto Khamir's fully packed bag, taking her away from the excitement of the argument. "Were you planning on going somewhere?" she asked.

The one-armed man did not respond. Instead, he bit his lip and stared harshly at the woman. Shae stared back, waiting for an answer. After a moment of glaring, Khamir broke free, and his focus switched to his pack as he began to dig for something inside. When he withdrew his hand, it was fisted, obviously holding something very small. He brought his fist near Shae's face, then opened it, his palm facing up. It took a few seconds for the woman to register what she was seeing.

Joren's necklace.

Carefully, Shae transferred the prized object into her own hands. As she tenderly rubbed the shining emblem with her fingers, she could feel relief flowing though her entire body.
"How....Where did you find this?" she asked, almost in a whisper.
Khamir shrugged. "I don't know....on the ground somewhere. Does it really matter?" He paused. "No one knew where you went. I thought something had happened...I was...." He trailed off.
Shae stared at the Southron curiously, forgetting all previous anger she had towards him. Unable to control all emotions, the woman began to cry, which was soon followed by laughter. Now, with the necklace returned to her, it seemed all previous frustration had been pointless. Before she realized what she was doing, her arms were around the man. Khamir had not expected such a gesture, and feeling his tension Shae quickly released her embrace. Her face grew hot, embarrassed at her careless display of gratitude; Khamir simply gave her a puzzled look.
Shae wiped her tears and put on the necklace. "This may seem like some silly object, but it means a lot to me," she muttered, giving the metal one last touch. "When I thought it lost forever, I didn't know what to do with myself....Thank you."

The sounds behind the two suddenly increased in volume, bringing them both back into the moment. Whatever the Fellowship was saying, it seemed several ex-slaves weren't too happy about it. Khamir turned towards the conflict, but Shae tugged on his arm and he hesitated, slowly turning back to face the woman.
"The slavers have been wary of us," she commented to the Southron. "Upon my departure, I came across one not far from the camp. I managed to kill him, but I am sure there were more nearby. The slavers' are still not aware of the Fellowship's presence. When they rescued the children, they thought it was us who did the noble deed." Shae lowered her voice. "You know what this means. It won't be long before the slavers arrive, ready to slaughter whoever stands in their way."