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

[Child of the 7th Age]

The back and forth of Beloan and the one called Khamir almost seemed to Lindir like an intricate dance. The two were infinitely respectful in their questioning and careful not to cross paths or opinions, yet each seemed a little uncertain of where he stood. They warily circled each other, testing out the ground, as if they were not used to sharing ideas or making decisions in quite this way. Khamir had been the one with the foresight to contact Elessar and, after so many months of carrying the letter in his satchel, Lindir felt he almost knew the man. At the same time, the elf had been pleased to learn that there were others who could step forward and speak for the group. Those freed from the plantation were responsible for choosing their own leaders. While that right did not not lie with the fellowship, Lindir hoped the men could be brought to understand that only by sharing authority and ideas could they build a real community. Even if Beloan or perhaps Khamir became the main spokesman for the group, they would need to find a way to draw the others in and use their talents without making them feel that they had somehow failed. While that would not be easy, it was the only way the group could survive.

Believing that those who had come from the plantation had much to teach them, Lindir had sat back until this point, learning much and saying little. Now, with the mention of war, he felt compelled to join in. "Yes, Beloan, you are correct in thinking this. Our group, though small, has different talents. At various times I have served as a scout and as a worker in metals, but the one constant in my long life has sadly been war. I have been in more battles than I care to remember. And Dorran, the young man who explained how he escaped from Nurn, is also a Rider of Rohan. These riders are the personal liegemen of the King of Rohan who swear an oath to defend the kingdom and have particular skill in managing horses. The two of us have spoken for some time about what we all might do."

Lindir glanced over towards Dorran as he spoke, "You see, wars are not always won by the sword. Sometimes they are won by whoever can use his wits the best. Your people are not trained with weapons and that is a disadvantage, but they have had to stay active and alert just to survive. I am sure there were times when when you had to come up with a trick to outwit the plantation masters. That's exactly what we must do now. The best situation of all is not killing your opponent in battle but stopping that opponent before he makes it to your camp. We need to build cleverly hidden ditches and traps of different kinds so that some of these men are taken unawares. Dorran and I can help you, but you may well have ideas of your own. Another good thing is even those who are too old or sick or small to fight can often help to build these traps. These things work best at night or when the weather is dark and murky. We can only hope the slavers will cooperate by launching their attack after the sun sets."

[Regin Hardhammer]

Ishkur yanked off one more chunk of meat and then wiped his grimy hands on the side of his pants. He looked over at Gwerr and laughed, "Uruks and Elves! Couldn't you think of anything more to my liking than that? Both of them give me a giant pain in my head. You know, Gwerr, I have run across a man or two in Arda who did not seem so bad. Once, I went into a tavern in Harad. It was a hang out for a bunch of us who were fighting for the local lord. At first, we stared grimly at eacher other, but once we started drinking everything changed. We lifted many a tankard that evening, orcs and men alike, and ended up passed out on the floor heaped up in one big pile. Really, I don't think we are so different. They hate us and we hate them, because we're more alike than anything else."

"Now Elves and Uruks are something else. They deserve each others company. We should lock them up in a big room and let them kill each other. You know Gwerr, those two are a lot alike. Each thinks they're better than anybody else. They try to act like bosses and lord it over everyone. Bah, I can't stand either of them! They make me sick."

Ishkur turned towards Gwerr and saw a puzzled look on his face. Then he laughed again. "I know what you are thinking. You're asking why somebody who hate Uruks so much is willing to use Makdush and his buddies. Isn't that right?" Ishkur went on without stopping, "I'll tell you why. If I learned anything in the past few thousand years, it's this....that sometimes you have to put up with people you hate if you're going to get what you really want. What I really want is a place in the mountains away from all this mess and the bosses, maybe with a good herd of horses and lots of time to hunt. Maybe even with a female by my side or maybe not. I am not sure about that part. But I am sure that we won't get to the north unless we stick together. I've heard bad stories about some of the things left over up there....things that take a particular dislike to orcs....so we're going to need everybody to fight. That's why I put up with Uruks. And no, I don't think they are any smarter than us. They just think they are and they have lots of people fooled."

"So you'd put up with Uruk to get what you want?" Gwerr echoed Ishkur's words.

His friend nodded, "Yeah, sure. That's what I said. Didn't you hear me?"

"Yah, I heard you. But I have another question.... Would you put up with Elves if you thought they would help you get what you wanted."

Ishkur stared back at Gwerr. His face turned a sickly green color. "Put up with Elves? You must be out of your mind. That's not gonna happen. That's never gonna happen. Elves and Orcs don't get along. Nothing's ever gonna change that. Nothing."

"But what if you needed something real bad, and the only way you could get it was to use an Elf?" Gwerr was curious.

"Huh, I can't imagine that. And if it happened, I don't know. I guess I'd have to think about that a long time, or else I'd come and ask you to make the decision."

"Anyways, my friend Gwerr, I don't think we're gonna have to worry about that. The only thing I'm worrying about is when those men are gonna leave camp so I can fill my tankard. I rode back down there earlier, and it looked as if they were getting things together to go in a little while. I don't think they're waiting till nightfall. I wish they'd get their bodies in the saddle and head out. I am feeling mighty thirsty. Hey, do you want to go down there and have another look?" Ishkur asked of Gwerr.

[Nogrod]

Gwerr

"I think we should not play with our fortune. Let's just wait here for the time being. We have no need of anything and if what you say is true, we will have the spoils tomorrow.... I'm in no rush as long as I have meat and ale enough in my backbag and no one of us is outright starving. We can share our things if need be... and it's only tomorrow we have to wait."

Gwerr rose his eyes to meet Ishkur's: "Yea, we should lock them both, the Uruks and the Elves into a cell and let them kill each other... I agree", Gwerr said, munching a piece of dried meat and taking a long draught from his worn skin of ale. He toyed with the skin a while in his hands before throwing it to Ishkur. There were no words needed to interpret the gesture. And Ishkur drank with pleasure.

"Don't worry about filling your tankard tonight, just share this one with me! We've not shared so many things even though we could have." Gwerr was silent for a while and looked at Ishkur questioningly. He spat on the ground to get rid of the tendons that he had chewed. "We've shared many battles together, Ishkur. More than most of these ones around us have any family-memory of! Let's be guided by the wisdom of experience here?"

"I mean, yes we really should think of this. Should we try to seek for some help to get us free? And if yes, would them be the Uruks or the Elves, or whom? We've fought the Elves from the times immemorial, I know, but what about these Uruks? Their master is gone. Who do they serve and can they be their own masters in this new situation? Have they the perspective we have, however intelligent they turn out to be?"

Gwerr noticed the surprised expression on Ishkur's face and went on to explain the idea that was just forming in his mind.

"If you say, you will be ready to use the Uruks as means to our ends, why not others then as well?" Gwerr made a pause and continued: "Are these Uruks our best option? They will kill us with no hesitation when they see it fit their schemes, but those Elves and humans will hesitate! You said yourself that sometimes you have to put up with people you hate if you're going to get what you really want. Now who could really help us here? We will ransack this slaver camp the next night, but what then? Whom do we rely on? Do you trust those Uruks to nicely share our females in the place to come and just turn into our friends? Forget it... But maybe those Elves and Humans would look positively to us helping them to bring down these slavers? WE might gain from an attack that already helps us? So no panicky moves, just wait and see, eh?"

Gwerr started chewing his portion of the meat and looked towards Ishkur, waiting for his point of view.

[Regin Hardhammer]

"Elves and humans who would look positively to us for helping them to bring down these slavers? You are a dreamer, Gwerr. And you say that I am foolish? You are the crazy one. Such a thing will never happen. Yes, I mentioned drinking with those men in Harad but that was one night, no more than that. The next day, they saw me on the practice field with my sword, and they walked all the way to the other side. The last thing they wanted was to step within the shadow of an orc." Ishkur spat on the ground and cursed, "I tell you we could slaughter every last slaver in that camp and those slaves would still slice our throats without even looking back. When's the last time you saw men offering mercy to an orc who had the bad luck to fall injured in battle? Yet those grand kings were always pardoning their mannish enemies and let them return back home. But not us. Never us. They would rather die than pardon an orc."

Ishkur turned his head and stared at Gwerr, "It sounds as if you're thinking of running off to help the slaves. If that's what you want, you'll have to do it on your own. I'm not going with you. I don't like Makdush and his gang, but at least they're better than men. And I won't even get into elves. They're another case altogether, even more brutal and pig-headed. No, my friend. I'll have nothing to do with men or elves, not if I have a choice."

Ishkur stood up and buckled on this sword and stalked over to get his horse. "Lucky for us Gwerr that the day is so murky. There'll be no trouble with the bright light. I'm going down to watch the slaver's camp. As soon as the men leave, I'll ride back here and let everyone know that the store is open for pillaging." Ishkur got up on his horse's back and boldy cantered back to the slavers' camp, all the while thinking that his friend Gwerr needed a good night of carousing to clear out the cobwebs in his head.

[Folwren]

Athwen took the mug that Azhar had drunk from and rinsed it with water. She dried it with a cloth and put it away to the side, where she could remember that it was the one Azhar had used. She moved her pack over to where Dorran sat and there she sank to the ground beside him. As she finally sat down and let her body relax she realized just how tired she was.

Her blue eyes blinked heavily a few times, fixed on something far away. Unconsciously, she sagged closer and closer to her husband. He moved his arm and put it about her shoulders without looking down at her as he continued listening carefully to the talk.

“You see, wars are not always won by the sword,” Lindir was saying. “Sometimes they are won by whoever can use his wits the best. Your people are not trained with weapons and that is a disadvantage, but they have had to stay active and alert just to survive. I am sure there were times when you had to come up with a trick to outwit the plantation masters. That's exactly what we must do now. . .”

His voice faded into the confused sounds of the waking day. A bright light burst over the eastern horizon. The sun rose in majesty. Athwen’s head turned slightly away, her eyelids tightened, then relaxed. A sigh escaped her half open lips. With the last bit of her wakeful mind, she felt Dorran dip his head and kiss her lightly and she slept.

[Nogrod]

Hadith (and Joshwan)

Hadith had been following the discussion with keen ears. But he was even more taken by the new feeling he got from the gang of escapees. Something was different now, very different. There was the fear as there had been and even the quiet murmur towards the Fellowship hadn’t totally died. But it was something else. A resoluteness, a dedication, something he couldn’t describe to himself. Somehow all were listening, sharing a common focus.

Then someone spoke again. It was someone who hadn’t yet spoken but sat on the inner ring unlike Hadith who had carefully slipped to the second row. He turned his head to identify the familiar-sounding speaker. It was Joshwan.

“I have sailed the seas for years before I was caught by the slave-hunters and taken to a plantation. I know a lot of tricks one can do when waterborne, but I’ve had my part of fighting on land too, being the underdog most of the times. To my experience this looks pretty challenging to say the least.” Joshwan made a pause and looked at both the elf and the Rohanian rider. “My name is Joshwan and I come from Umbar. I’ve been a soldier of fortune most of my life, the one you call a pirate, but that’s not what I call myself. I am a Fortune’s soldier.” Joshwan gazed sharply around to the others around him in the inner ring of people to underline his words.

“But let’s look at our landscape. Slowly rolling and dull hills with only this hay that has dried yellow all around us. Yes, we might dig a ditch for their horses to tumble into, but how do we hide the ditches without a lattice structure made from some young trees or good branches of older ones? Or the basic rope tricks then? We can’t get a rope high enough to fall the riders but neither have we any aids to bear the brunt of the impact if we try to stumble the horses. Maybe twenty strong men at the each end of the rope could take the blow of the rushing horses, but where do you hide forty men here still hoping the enemy to ride straight between them?” Joshwan shrugged.

“It’s nice to speak of wittiness and traps but we should actually come up with some real ideas that are both working and doable... All we seem to have in abundance here is this dry grass and it’s not the best of weapons against seasoned fighters on horseback.” He broke a grass in two and then threw the parts away.

What Joshwan said sounded reasonable and thence depressing. Hadith was brought down from his emerging confidence very abtruptly and violently. All this talk of tricks had sounded so easy and assuring but if what Joshwan said was right, they were back to the square one. And if these people on the Fellowship had only vague ideas, who would then have the real solutions?

Hadith picked a grass and twisted it around his fingers. Not much of a weapon... isn’t there anything we could do with these?

“Couldn’t we do something with all this hay? Burning it or something?” Hadith asked, basically just saying it to himself, but it was quiet enough for most of the people around him to actually hear it. Hadith realised the situation in an instance and blushed, starting to mumble an apology. But Beloan cut in.

“As I agree with the points Joshwan has presented, I can’t share his pessimism. But with you Hadith I think it is the other way around. I strongly share your optimism, but probably not your point. How could we be helped by lighting the ground on fire? You know, the fire burns the good and the bad alike.” There was no contempt in his voice or in his gaze that drilled deep into Hadith’s mind. To Hadith it felt more like a father correcting his beloved son for making hasty and stupid suggestions. But he was ashamed, so ashamed. He would hold his mouth from now on, he really would.

“Just wait a minute here! I may not be so pessimistic you think I am, Beloan. And the boy might actually have a seed of wisdom here.” It was Joshwan again, and he was smiling to Hadith! A boy! Hadith wasn’t sure how to take it. Somehow he had started to think of himself as something else than just a boy with this group, but in a way Joshwan spoke the truth. He was a man but Hadith was a boy. That was exactly what he was and now he had been shown his place.

“We might pack the hay in tight bunches, using some string to make them hold, a size of a big head or something. And we could make a lot of them... a hundred at least...” Joshwan was clearly getting animated with his idea. “When they come near enough us if we have no other tricks to use on them – or to those who have been left around the fire to make the last stand if we have other ideas too – we could alight them and throw them at the slavers. This grass is so dry that it will burst in flame in seconds. We have just time to throw them before the fire really gets wild. Just think how their horses will react to a hundred balls of fire thrown at them from a short range and out of the blue? We might then have a lot of unsaddled slavers in our hands, hopefully stunned or at least disoriented for a few moments.”

Hadith was thinking about a hundred fireballs flying in the darkness of a night... It looked awesome.

[Firefoot]

Johari had at first been inclined to feel annoyed and encroached upon with the arrival of these newcomers, who seemed to think they could just dance right into their camp and run the place as if the ex-slaves could not figure it out for themselves. And how they tried to ingratiate themselves! “See, we rescued your children!” and “Look, I’m an ex-slave just like you; you can be successful just like me!” Ugh.

To vocally protest their arrival as some had tried would be futile, of course. They had come this far and would hardly turn back now only a few minutes or hours after finding them. No, they would come along and “help”, holding themselves above us ex-slaves, consciously or not. They didn’t understand. Why had they been invited – begged – to come? Even with that, they hardly had a right to be here. Where had these strangers been months ago, years ago when they had really needed the help, toiling away on some plantation, only just managing to survive? Where had they been when the Black Tower fell to end the slavery for real? Had the help they had needed come when they had needed it to come, she would not have been separated from Kalin as she was.

But now, finally, help had come, and they expected to be welcomed like saviors. We’ve been watching out for ourselves and doing all right until now, thought Johari, and I’ll be clapped in chains and dragged back to that plantation if I let someone else come and baby-sit me now.

Still, these rebellious thoughts remained unspoken, not because she knew it would not help but because, when it came down to it, she didn’t care enough to voice them. These outsiders would do as they wished and the people of the camp would accept them or not as they wished, and to Johari it didn’t matter much as long as no one bothered her or hindered her in her own goal. The annoyances were still liable to come out in a fit of pique should Johari be roused from her apathy (it wasn’t exactly difficult), but for now she felt comfortable just letting them stew. Let these emissaries from Gondor come to understand what life here was really like. They may not even need to be driven away; the land, its people, and their hurts might defeat them on their own. Johari smiled perversely at the thought.