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

[Folwren]

Athwen darted like a worried mother duck from one child to the next. She only stopping when short breath and burning muscles forced her to, and only for the slightest pause. The rate of the rising water alarmed her, though, had she stopped to think, she would have known that it would not have completely covered them in many minutes. But all the same, those minutes were swiftly running out and as yet, no one had –

Her head turned suddenly upwards towards the opening. She heard her name called by that dear, familiar voice. Dorran was coming quickly, and calling her as he ran. She pushed off from the wall and struck out to the other side so that she could perch right below the opening.

“Athwen!” he called out once more, stopping at the pit’s mouth.

“Yes, Dorran, I’m down here. Quickly, have you more rope or anything?”

“They’re coming with some. Who is down there with you?”

Athwen looked over her shoulder, trying to count quickly in the dimness. “Six – seven, I think,” she said. “Four children, an orc child, Carl, and me.” A shudder shook her body. She had not realized before how utterly cold the water was. “Hurry, Dorran,” she said, slipping away to help the children keep above the rising water. “We don’t have much time.”

[Durelin]

A small figure, a small voice though there was power behind it…it was just a child. An Orc, but a child. Khamir’s confusion and internal warring paralyzed him. He had no time to recover any of his wits before it was clear they were facing women and children, those that even men who spent the majority of their lives in the wastes of Mordor considered somehow naturally…innocent, bystanders, non-combatants. There was pleading, and talk of desiring peace, from creatures Khamir thought incapable of human, much less humane, emotions and desires.

They had always been animals to him. He guessed he had understood that they must procreate somehow, but he had never faced the possibility -- or the probability, rather -- of females, of children. They had not even been animals to him, really. They were even less than that, as even their instincts were corrupted. But…now what?

“How many of you are still skulking around?” he demanded, not ready to drop his guard. This had to be some ploy. They knew the females and children could distract them, confuse them. Beloan quickly pointed out that if there were many more around, the creatures wouldn’t have wasted their time with all of this. But only moments after the man had spoken, two more females arrived.

To make the scene more absurd, the new orcs apparently held the strange friend of the old man, Rog, as a captive. It was the man himself who spoke for them, declaring they wanted to trade prisoners. Ridiculous. Khamir let his eyes wander a moment, as if he was watching the scene unfold in an audience. He looked into the faces of Rog and his captors, then turned his eyes back to the other females and the male child, and then he looked down at the orc whose throat he touched with his knife. He seemed surprised, too.

Khamir laughed, though it sounded more like a cough or a grunt. It was a short laugh of release, and he let his arm drop. So many things didn’t seem to matter anymore, even if the orc whose throat he had been ready to slit turned and took him by the throat.

“Does anyone know where the wounded and the...children are?” he said with some difficulty. What were they doing? What were they going to do? It had been such an easy decision. It had…

Before anyone could respond, Lindir spoke up with command in his voice. Khamir eyed him and his eyes flashed with anger. He did not like this elf ordering his men around. My men? he asked himself, and felt he should be laughing again. The elf then ordered the orcs holding Rog to release him, and the man walked away from his captors after only a moment or two. Surely they weren’t really making the trade! Khamir didn’t even think of putting away his knife.

Khamir thought he heard someone shout or scream somewhere distant, but he was again distracted from what might be going on elsewhere in the camp. Some of the orcs who were to be executed only a short time ago began to get up and walk in the direction of the two females who had held Rog. No, this could not be happening. They were just going to let them go? How many lives were truly involved here? Not just the orcs, not just Rog’s…their actions here and now would affect the lives of other men in this land.

The one-armed man suddenly felt a great amount of urgency. He stood, gripping his knife, almost physically wavering between charging the formerly captive orcs and racing back to the camp to make sure all was safe.

When all was finally quiet for a moment - as uneasy a silence as when the men waited on Khamir’s signal - he was sure he heard a cry from the direction of the pit. Now he was sure.

“That is where the wounded and the children are,” Adnan spoke up, his voice louder than he thought it could be. Khamir was shocked to see the young man. He had been here? He would have seen…?

With one last glance toward the backs of the male orcs, Khamir rushed off in the direction of the pit, almost wishing for the days when he had no one to care about but himself.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Carl

It was the oddest sensation. Carl, who at this point was not much more than a head bobbing in the dark water, was just theorizing to Dorran on why the plug in the wall might be leaking, and speculating on whether or not the orcs might have had an inkling last night that this might happen, when a violent surge of water and stones suddenly dragged his feet abruptly and painfully out from under him, forcing his face into the current. Pulling himself upright with an effort, he coughed fitfully and tried to brace himself against the onslaught. A curtain of water fell about him like rain, and shaking his head to clear the stream that flowed into his eyes and mouth he saw one of the children drifting before him. As his arm darted out to grab the child's ragged shirt, he caught hold of the youngster only to have the powerful current pivot him around quickly, throwing the child against his chest. And like a door on well-greased hinges, the hobbit continued to swing until his back slammed against the unyielding stone wall.

It happened so quickly. As the furious water rose, Carl found it harder to concentrate. He heard the voices of Dorran and Athwen shouting to one another over the din, but he did not have much hope for the situation. Strong as Dorran was, he was the worse for wear after the battle, and their were so many of them in the pit, they certainly didn't have much time for dilly-dallying. Still urging the young boy who clung to him to clamber on to his shoulders, the hobbit closed his eyes against the darkness, and dizzily tried to find a better handhold, even if just a little higher, for the water was rising at an alarming rate.

Suddenly, the weight on his shoulder's lessened, and opening one eye Carl saw nearby a rope dangling. Clinging to that rope was an orc who held the boy briefly by the upper arm before flinging him up into the blanket which was also suspended, but much higher well above the water. The orc soon found Gwella and Ina next in the inky blackness, treating them in much the same rough manner. When the pair of glinting eyes caught sight of Carl, the hobbit had both his open, and quite wide they were. But before the farmer could protest, he was thrown into the blanket, hoisted up into the daylight and plucked out of it again - just as quickly, though perhaps less roughly than he was placed in it. And with a kind word or two he was set down next to Ina, to squint with her in the sunlight, grimacing at the discovery of a painful lump on the back of his head.

[Nogrod]

Gwerr was just about congratulating himself from almost making the escape when he heard the screams and the talk behind him. An orc child in trouble with humans?That Gwella it must be.... He glanced at Ishkur and it seemed the two thought about the same thing. Whatever muscles the Uruk have they don't have brains. Farewell Makdush... we're going to live and claim our treasure, you rusty old pile of bones. They nodded at each other and abruptly turned on their heels running as fast as they could... back towards the men.

The men around were just stunned of their sudden act and barely managed to react before the two orcs had gotten past them and towards the pit where all the screams were coming from. "A rope! A rope!" Gwerr shouted as they ran.

A young boy of half southern origin was making it towards the same goal and turned around when hearing the orc-calls from behind him. His name was Hadith.

"There!" he yelled just obeying the commanding sound of the cry and pointing towards a pile of ropes left by the building of the first-aid tents. Only then did he realise they were orcs who were calling for the ropes.

For a moment he was about to draw his sword but the orcs passed him by too far away changing their path towards the ropes he had pointed to them. What? Have I blundered now? Hadith drew his sword and ran after the orcs shouting wildly "Take them! Bring them down!"

But the orcs were much quicker than he was and even if his yelling reached the people around the pit before the two orcs managed their way there the sight of two unarmed orcs with ropes rushing towards the place didn't exactly make them feel like attacking the two - even if they felt quite uncertain about the situation.

"Wait, wait! The ropes are coming!" Ishkur cried as the two came forwards and the few humans who had got blades raised lowered them.

Whilst running the last meters Gwerr had already started to tie the other end of the rope he carried around his waist. As they reached the spot they elbowed themselves room enough through the stupefied humans and Gwerr called Ishkur to either tie the rope or get help - and he was gone from their eyes, jumping down to the pit.

Some of the men ran to help Ishkur and together they managed to halt the rope. Gwerr was hanging a few feet above Carl and the boy he was carrying.

"Gimme some! Two feet!" Gwerr shouted and the rope was loosened a bit letting Gwerr fall down enough to get a tight grip of the boy's shoulders. There was a blanket suspended by a pair of ropes some people had tried to lower to the aid of those in the pit that now served as a rescue vehicle. Gwerr flinged the boy to it and called for the people up to loosen the rope.

He went down the wall into the darkness smelling, listening; feeling his way towards Gwella and Ina. "Here you are you little... treasure you!" he whispered to Gwella as he hoisted her on his shoulder after he had picked Ina to his other one. Gwerr tugged the rope with his teeth and then yelled up. "Get me up! ten feet!"

After he got a hold for his feet a few yards from the top of the cliff he threw the two little ones to the blanket and called for it to be hoisted up finally turning to the hobbit. "Loose again!" he shouted and went down.

He met two inquisitive eyes soon enough but it was no time for wondering... he sure had not seen that kind of eyes before and it bothered him. But he took the creature by his outstreched arms and flinged him to the blanket that had been meanwhile lowered down again. He saw the blanket slowly rise upwards and finally disappearing over the top of the cliff and into the light.

Gwerr was listening. He was smelling the cave. He was feeling the cave. He was even seeing around a bit even if not too far.

"Any more in here?" He yelled to the darkness. He turned to look upwards. "Are there more here?"

Suddenly he realised he had quite outstreched his powers. Surely it was in a way no deal to him as he had made greater deeds and fought in the greatest battles this world could tell a story of - and even in those there were no stories about - but somehow that sudden action had quite drawn all his energy and he felt he was not able to hold it much longer at that narrow step he was standing at just a feet or two above the still rising waterline.

"Any more here?"

He was not going to ask for them to pull him up though. A decent orc would not beg for help to himself.