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

[Tevildo]

He had been afraid of this.....afraid of it since the very first moment when Lindir had come up with the idea of sending out a skilled rider to lead the slavers' astray. Part of him had already known that Athwen was the right person for the task and that she would proudly volunteer if given the slightest chance. The problem came down on his shoulders. If he said "yes", his wife would ride and assume the terrible risk of making herself a target for an entire company of armed attackers. He also knew that, if he said "no", his wife would defer her decision and return to the relative sarety of the grove. But what would that do to her spirit, and how would she feel about a husband who put her own safety even above the oath they had jointly taken to Elessar and Eomer and to the completion of the fellowship's quest?

Dorran had lived too long in Rohan to set aside his oath in such a hasty fashion. Both he and his wife had taken on certain obligations when they had agreed to journey to Mordor and help the slaves. Athwen was no child; she had certainly been aware of that obligation just as he was. Who was he to treat her like a child and deny here the chance to do what she had promised to do?

There was a rock hard piece of Dorran's mind that could simply not erase that promise even if it seemed like the easiest thing to do. He turned back to his wife and extended his hand to hers, "I would be lying if I told you that I wanted you to do this thing. It is hard and dangerous, perhaps harder that you realize, since you have never been in a battle before. But we have made a promise to the slaves and to the fellowship itself, and we cannot turn our backs on that. If your heart is set on this, I will not say no. I ask just two things. I will wait till the slavers pass and ride immediately in back of them. I will strip off the insignia of Rohan and dress myself in plain rugged gear such as a common traveler might wear with a hood pulled down over my face. Even if one of the men notices me, he is unlikely to pay attention in the heat of the pursuit. At least that way, if anything happens, I will be right there to help."

"And the second?" Athwen queried her husband.

"The second is that you will promise to be very careful. If anything seems to be going wrong, wave your white sash in the air so that the others who are mounted can ride out to help you." For a long time, the two looked at each other. Then Dorran sighed and went on in a lower voice, "There need be no words between us. Just lean over and let me hold you gently for a bit that I may have your agreement."

An instant later and the couple stood in each other's arms, with Dorran whispering some private words in his wife's ear.

[Nogrod]

Gwerr (and Ishkur)

“You never listen to others, now do you?” Gwerr said as Ishkur was making his leave. Ishkur had clearly made up his mind and seemed to be tense. Why am I bothering... I should know this. It’s all going down the drain anyhow.

With these thoughts Gwerr fell down to get some sleep but he never managed to fall in to anything like a deep sleep as he had to check every once in a while whether the Uruks were stil asleep or up to any mischief.

In the end he fell deep down into sleep anyhow. He faintly regained his consciousness hearing someone roaring enthusiastically but was truly awaken by a kick to his ribs.

"They're gone! The slavers have left. I hope gone for good, but at least for today. The camp is ours whenever we want it. And look what I have brought back."

Ishkur seemed excited – and soon Gwerr saw the reason for it. A berrell of ale was more than welcome news indeed.

"We'll go back once the sun sets and it gets more comfortable, but why not start with a little nip here? It will get us in the right spirit." Ishkur uncorked the small barrell and filled his flagon as he cried out, "Gwerr, Makdush, Mazhg, Grask..... Everyone come here and have a taste."

Gwerr rose up slowly but still was the first to reach Ishkur and his barrell. Ishkur poured his skin full to the top. Gwerr took a draught and then wiped his lips with the back of his right hand. Burping lightly he smiled to Ishkur in a faint fashion and looked around to see the other orcs to awake one by one. Even the Uruks were coming forwards.

“Okay pal, you might not have understood what I said but let’s not let that to come between us. We’ll give all these good draughts of this “flower-ale” you have brought us and then we will go and have a look into the camp, before the others come to think of it... What do you think?”

Ishkur seemed to ponder the thought for a while but then nodded. Together they started to deal rations of ale to the other orcs that were forming something like an odd queue around them. There was some jostling and pushing around but in the end most of the orcs had gotten their share and some had even managed to gain a second helping.

“Okay, time we go? Let’s fill our skins and leave? We’ll take your horse to carry the loot?” Gwerr asked as the queue had vanished and all the other orcs seemed content enough with their ale. The sun was setting, it was late afternoon. It would take an hour at least for the sun to actually set.

“We go”, Ishkur answered and rose up, picking his flagon with him. Gwerr followed him to Ishkur’s new horse and they both threw their half-empty sacks on the horse.

“Do you think your new horse will accept us two?” Gwerr asked. Ishkur hesitated for a while but then nodded. “That’s the easiest way, if you are so good with the horses you claim you are. This one is not the most compliant one”

“We’ll see about it” Gwerr said and took the horse by the reins. “Jump up. I’ll follow!” Ishkur jumped the horse and Gwerr tightened the reins, taking a firm grip from the horses neck. She was not very happy about her load and seemed to sense the next phase in advance. Slowly Gwerr managed to inch himself towards the middle of the horse that seemingly was not at all happy with the things going on. At the secure moment he jumped up on the horse too, gaining a foothold from her side and climbing up to gain balance as she took to her backfeet.

In a moment the horse was on its way, gallopping ahead. It really didn’t seem tom approve the two orcs on her.

“Now stop this!” Ishkur called as he was at the back and had no chance to steer the horse or actually make any difference. Gwerr did his best to bring the horse down in front.

“I’m doing it, I’m doing it! Wait a moment!” Gwerr replied and draw the rains as heavily as he could. With his experience Gwerr managed to bring the horse under his control after a while and in the end the she settled down and the two orcs rode slowly into the empty camp of the slavers.

It was empty indeed.

“Now see here!” Ishkur yelled as he dropped from the horse. “Here is the tent of their leader!” Gwerr jumped down as well, throwing the reins over the horse's head. They both entered the tent that was double the size of the other tents around.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Once the hornets had flown off, the slavers took a while to retrieve their missing horses. Then Imak ordered his men to get back in their saddles and immediately ride to the slave camp. But several of them complained loudly, since they had been badly stung around the eyes.

"You can't do that. It't not smart," confirmed Urlok, one of the oldest in the band who knew a few simple remedies. "Their faces will swell till their eyes shut. They'll be no good for fighting. Either treat the men or leave them here." A few of the others nodded in agreement.

Imak reluctantly agreed to wait until the wounds were treated. Urlok used the flat of his dagger to draw out the stingers and then made a mud paste with water from the leather pouch. He applied the soft mud dressing to their faces, and also found a bit of plantain weed, which he chewed up and spat on each of the bites. By the time he finished, a whole hour had passed, but their faces were not swelling as much.

After they mounted up, Urlok rode his horse over to Imak and said in a low voice. "Captain, the weather looks bad. A hard wind is coming." Imak stared where Urlok was pointing. He could see the wind was blowing harder and that the sky behind their backs looked more brown than blue.

"So what do you expect me to do? Wave a wand and change the weather?"

Urlok answered evenly, "Perhaps we should turn back and wait till the winds blow over. The slaves aren't going anywhere. We can ride out tomorrow morning."

"The bites, the wind. How many excuses can you come up with? You've gotten soft. A few gusts of wind aren't going to stop me. I swear I will not sleep tonight until we defeat those slaves, and I get my sword back." With that, Imak dug his heels into his horse's flanks and took off at a gallop towards the slavers' camp.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Lindir waited until husband and wife had finished their private conversation and then went over to speak briefly with Athwen. He bent down to sketch some rough lines in the dirt, pointing out a few scrub bushes not far from camp where the woman could conceal herself until the slavers arrived as well as indicating the direction she might want to take when approaching the camp. He expressed his thanks and then reminded her that the weather and visibility could possibly be quite bad. Dorran remained nearby, carefully committing the map to memory.

Just as the elf was finishing up, a grey pigeon came circling down. landing on the ground in a wobbly manner directly ahead of them. The bird's feathers were ruffled; her wings noticably drooped. Lindir gently took the bird in his hand and removed a small scrap of parchment wrapped about its leg. The message was written in Quenyan in a remarkably delicate and precise script. Lindir stood off to one side while reading the note and then raised his voice to explain so that any others standing nearby could hear the news. "Aiwendil reports the slavers have been sighted. He and Rôg have drummed up some mischief to delay them. However, my guess is that this pigeon had tough going in the air, since the winds are beginning to blow. The slavers may be no more than thirty minutes away. It is time for each group to move into position. Go now, each of you, and tell the others. Be prepared for the slavers but do not forget the weather. Keep your heads covered and try to shield off the worst of the sand and dirt. And may Varda smile on our endeavor."

Slowly, the men and women started to disperse. Lindir bent down to retrieve his bow and slung it over his shoulder starting towards the appointed place where the archers were to meet. As he glanced eastward, the elf could see one and possibly two figures in the distance, both striding towards the camp. It was definitely Aiwendil and possibly Rôg. At the same time, the winds had picked up. The sand on the plain was swirling about in a number of small funnels and eddies, first blowing one direction and then the other. At this point, the winds and sand were no more than an irritation. But they were likely to get much worse before the night was over. Any work with the bows would have to be done early and from very close in, if there was any hope of their arrows actually hitting the mark. Aiwendil and Rôg had been right about the weather, but whether the slavers would get here first or the giant gusts of wind, he could not even guess.