Hunt for the Palantíri RPG

[Child of the 7th Age]

Luindal awoke with a start. Outside, it was still dark. He peered out the ship's porthole and glimpsed the outline of the Bay: the sun was just rising and the waters appeared placid. Still, there was a feeling of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach. He hastily tossed on his clothes and pushed back the door to walk into the corridor, continuing down the hall and climbing up the ladder to the main deck.

A brisk walk around the deck gave no hint of anything unusual. Most of the crew of the Spirit were asleep, worn out from their exertions the day before, or just rousing from their beds. The crew assigned to the kitchen had already begun their labors, which he could tell from the enticing aroma of breakfast that wafted over to the spot where he was standing. Yet, despite the apparent calm and usual routine, Luindal felt uneasy. He scanned the Bay, but, here too, all appeared quiet. One or two Lossoth fishing vessels, the last ones sailing before the winter, were bringing home a final catch.

Luindal plucked the spyglass from his vest pocket and adjusted the tube, focusing the lens on the Corsair ship. The ship looked quiet enough, with only one or two pirates visible on deck. He swung the instrument around and did a general sweep of the beach. This time he stopped, refocused his lens, and looked a second time as his jaw dropped open. The entire entourage of Lossoth and Corsairs appeared to be hiking north along the Bay, heavily laden with tools and weapons and bound for some unknown destination.

Surely, this is coincidence. I haven't even told my own men where we are going yet. They must be trekking somewhere on their own to search for the Stones, or perhaps going off on a hunting expedition to replenish supplies. But an uncomfortable sensation persisted in his stomach. In frustration, he pushed his left hand deep into his pocket and, by chance, felt the rough texture of the button and fabric that Rôg had said came from the south. He hadn't had time to think about it before, but it seemed unlikely the cave would house such a thing. When he had found the cloth, it had been dry. That meant the cloth would have had to get there quite recently, since otherwise it would have been soaked from the previous incoming tide.

Luindal spoke to one of the Elves on deck: "Please go below to rouse my trusted officers, as well as those Lossoth who have proven to be staunch friends. Ask them to report immediately to my cabin."

Privately he thought that they could ill afford to wait the full two days to depart. Tired or not, the Elves and Lossoth would make their preparations today and leave the next morning. Luindal was determined that they take extra precautions and travel fully armed. He was probably being overcautious, and all these extra preparations were not needed. But who knew? It was better to be prepared.

With this in mind, he beckoned another Elf to remain behind for a moment, leaning over and whispering something in his ear. The young Elf's eyes widened as he listened to the captain's words. "Twenty lengths of rope each thirty feet long? But, sir, we don't have that much in our supplies."

"I thought so," Luindal rejoined. "Go to the Elders and have them gather the ropes for us, and see if you can borrow one of those reindeer they have to pull a sledge. We will need to stack the supplies somewhere. And we may need that reindeer for other things as well." There was a grim edge in Luindal's voice.

"And what shall I say if they ask why I need these things?"

Luindal grinned back at the Elf, "Just tell them you have a captain who is slightly jittery and a bit daft, but you have no idea why he wants these things."

The young Elf nodded his head and beamed back, "That won't be hard, sir, seeing as I really have no idea what you'd do with this much rope and a reindeer."

"Go now, quickly, and do the errand quickly."

**************

An hour later, the most trustworthy of the band had gathered together in Luindal's cabin. The Captain had finished explaining about the shoreline to the north where they would search for the Stones and how all should pack their bags today and prepare to leave in the morning.

After he had finished, he added, "We need to be very careful in the north. We have no ideas what these cursed Corsairs might do. Make sure to go fully armed. And I have another question."

He stopped for a moment, not quite sure how to phrase his words. In the end, he just said the thing straight out: "By any chance has anyone seen or heard anything suspicious or unusual over the last few days, something that caused you to take a look and wonder what was happening.... something you can't otherwise explain. If so, come speak with me today in the cabin....."

[Imladris]

Jarlyn's face was taught and white as he scrabbled at the ice with his hammer. His stomach was angry with something and his head was warm with fever. He had not been able to eat his breakfast for it had stubbornly refused to stay put in his stomach. Sweat pricked his forehead, and streamed down his back, even though the air was chill.

Swallowing, he tossed a chunk of ice feebly, and watched it skitter across the ice. A leathered hand dropped on his shoulder. Staring, Jarlyne glanced up and saw --

Jynne. That man who slipped with the shadows, became one with them, the man who had suggested the silly idea of blocking the elvish cave. All that work, for naught. Besides, it was bad form. Form in its very baddest, leaving such enemies to rot and die like that. At least give the vile things a fighting chance...He snorted silently to himself. "Swift and silent as a shadow, aren't you, Jynne?" he asked, tightly.

Jynne's face broke out in a wan smile, revealing yellowed teeth. Jarlyn shuddered. "It pays to be able to walk quietly, Jarlyn," he said softly.

Jarlyn glared back at him. "Walking quietly pays when only among enemies," he countered, trying to chuckle and failing miserably.

The barest grunt of a laugh escaped Jynne. "You feeling all right?" he asked. "You are in a muck of a sweat."

"Yes...I'm fine, thank you. Now, if you don't mind, we're supposed to be drilling holes so that the elves can take a bit of a tumble. Or is the sun too bright for you?"

He smirked as Jynne gave him a dirty look and skulked off to begin to drill another hole.

[Rinfanawen]

Diera crept slowly to the location she has selected to dig at. The snow covering the ice was so deep. Practically half of her tall, brown boots disappeared beneath the white blanket with every stride she took. Despite the fact that the wind was scarce, there was a deathly chill in the air. Standing in over a foot of snow did not help either. She was already beginning to experience why she especially did not like the cold. Nevertheless, she continued. Soon she approached her designated location. She threw her pickax on the ground while she rolled up the long sleeves of her blue shirt and brown, leather overcoat. Getting them wet with snow would not help come nightfall.

She bent down to grab her ax, her hands being covered by thick, animal-hide gloves. Diera struck the hidden ice firmly. Not even a crack was made...a small chip, maybe, have been broken off the top of the ice, but no breakthrough. She struck again with more force, but again with no luck. Obviously this will be harder than I imagined, she thought as she struck the ice again. I must hurry if ever I am to break through this glass. It very much was like glass, as well. It was a hard, cold glass that had been blurred and fogged by the frost. This would be a difficult task.

Diera began to chop away at the ice quickly, but with every swing she took, more and more snow and ice would fly up in her face. Eventually her arms, face, and legs were covered in snow that melted through her clothing. Even her hat now dripped onto her face. She stopped suddenly to notice a faint laugh in the distance. Turning, she saw Doyal, standing not too far away, mocking her condition. Diera lowered her eyelids in anger. Although he was only laughing in fun, not meaning to be cruel, Diera shot back a fierce frown. Doyal stopped laughing immediately and began digging his own hole once again.

“So much for staying dry,” Diera said to herself as she wiped the snow off her face. She rolled her sleeves down again, seeing they were wet already anyway, and continued hacking at the ice at a much slower pace.

[piosenniel]

Rôg sat in on a chair near the back of the room, massaging his left arm as he listened to Luindal talk. Search the shoreline? Rôg sighed with weariness at the thought of making that exertion. And sooner than expected, he thought, as the Captain spoke with some sense of urgency about preparing to leave in the morning. His eyes strayed about the room for any sign of Freyn. He would need another poultice applied to his arm before the company left on the search and perhaps a small quantity of that dried root to chew on . . . the one that eased the pain.

Luindal, he though, had finished speaking, Rôg stood up from his chair and made for the door. The captain’s final remarks though, made him stop and turn a frowning face toward him. What was all this about something unusual or suspicious . . . it was so vague a description, and yet the Captained seemed so eager for news of it . . .

Those gathered in the room moved uncomfortably in their seats - their heads craning this way and that to see who might have some understanding of what the Captain had said. There were many who shrugged their shoulders, and knowing they had naught to add stood to make their exit. There was one, though, one of the Lossoth, he thought, on the far side of the room who seemed to be nodding yes as Luindal made his request. He could not see who it was as he was swept out the door and down the hall by a group of Elves speaking eagerly of tomorrow’s undertaking.

[Arry]

‘Now what do you suppose the Captain means by that request?’ Andtuariel had voiced the question the three male Elves had been mulling over themselves. Elwë shrugged his shoulders as she spoke. Most of his time had been spent in Andtuariel’s cabin, seeing to her comfort. Between the cool cloths for her ankle and the book he had taken up to read to her, he had not been out and about much – save to bring food to share with her or when he retired to his own cabin to rest at night. He turned to the two brothers, inviting them to share what they knew.

Annû was as perplexed as the two of them. He’d seen nothing strange on the ship, if that’s what the Captain meant. ‘You know, though,’ he said, tapping his brother on the arm. ‘You never did get to speak to the Captain, did you, about our suspicions of that rockslide that hemmed us in the cavern.’ Carandû shook his head. ‘He wasn’t there when I went to see him. And we haven’t had time today.’

‘What’s this about the rockslide and “suspicions”,’ interrupted Elwë. Annû filled him in on their thoughts about how the rockslide just didn’t seem as if it happened ‘naturally’. Why would the rocks fall down so conveniently in front of the cave entrance? No one in the cave had felt any tremors occurring that would have shaken the rocks loose.

‘The Captain’s probably already thought along these lines himself,’ added Carandû. ‘But we wanted to share our suspicions about it anyway.’

‘Well, then,’ said Andtuariel, motioning for Elwë to take her arm and help her up. ‘Perhaps this is your opportunity to tell him now.’ Annû offered his arm on her other side, assisting her, along with Elwë, to the door. ‘You’re probably right,’ said Carandû, as she hobbled along. He held open the door as they ushered her through, then followed along behind the other three. ‘We’ll just see you to your cabin,’ he continued. ‘Then, Annû and I can pay a visit to the Captain’s quarters.’

[Taralphiel]

Freyn listened to all the Captain had to say, and slowly mulled it around in his head. The nights sleep had brought him little to ease his weariness, and his thoughts quickly became muddled. But, he could think of nothing to add in the way of a judgement, so silent he sat.

After all was said, he slowly made his way up on deck and peered about. The strng breeze seemed to clear his senses somewhat, and he smiled as he saw the other ships lightly bobbing about the waters.

'I think the Captain knows what is best....and I know little to naught of these Stones. He has the best judgement...' he said to himself.

Shaking out of his train of thought, he fumbled about in his pocket, making his way to one of his patients.

'Best to be useful...' he thought.

[Lalwendë]

The morning sun shone through the snow shelter, illuminating the interior with an eerie blue light. Tarn rolled out from his thick fur sleeping roll and began to pull on the few clothes which he had removed last night. He wore all his outer clothes, but he had removed his boots as they had been known to freeze to sweating feet in the extreme cold of the night that could descend when camping out. Having suffered frostbite once, he was careful to avoid it again. He sat up, pulled his boots on and strapped fur leggings over his breeches. After pulling on his overcoat, he added a huge fur cloak over the top. These garments were made form the pelt of one of the great white bears and made naturally warm and camouflaging protection for a man out in the ice and snow.

Peering out of the shelter he saw that Thynne had begun a fire, contained within in a thick bucket, and had prepared breakfast. Both Tarn and Thynne were in their element out here; Tarn was born and brought up on the ice, and Thynne had been sent out to join hunts from an early age. They both followed the usual routines. But this was not routine, and Tarn’s eyes followed the Corsairs as they slipped and stumbled on the ice, eager to start their work. Some used pickaxes and hammers to try and break through. This would work, but Tarn knew an easier way. He sat and watched while he ate, and he noted that the lad, too, was watching them with curious amusement.

“Why do they work so hard?” said Thynne, “When there is an easier way?”

“Hmm. What do you say, Thynne? Shall I show them?” answered Tarn, looking at the lad with a wry smile.

“What would be in for us…I mean, for you?”

Tarn laughed and almost slapped the lad on the back, then thought better of it. “You’ve learned something from the trek yesterday I see.” Tarn had taken a little time during the trek to talk to Thynne and tell him some tales of his own adventures. They had had an effect and the lad now seemed eager to help. Tarn could see that Thynne was much like he had been when he was young, and he thought that by taming that rebellious streak he would end up with a very useful assistant. Thynne was beginning to feel proud that he was assistant to the man with the frightening reputation and tall tales.

Tarn strapped a pair of overshoes with spiked soles to his boots and taking hold of a long leather bag, he headed off to where the Corsairs were struggling to make holes. Thynne put a lid onto the bucket containing the fire and followed. Once out on the ice, Tarn took out his harpoon from the leather bag and began to poke around for a good place to begin. He stopped and motioned Thynne to put the bucket down. Out of the bag he took a long spike which had a spiral ground into it, a drill. He removed the blade from the end of his harpoon and fixed the drill onto it, concentrating carefully. He knew that some of the Corsairs were watching him and muttering about “that idle Lossoth”, but he knew they would think differently once he had got going.

Thynne stirred up the fire in the bucket, which had now died down to hot embers due to the lid restricting the air. When Tarn was ready he plunged the end of the drill into the bucket and held it for a minute before placing it firmly onto the ice and pushing down carefully but firmly. As the drill took hold, Thynne held it steady and Tarn moved it rapidly down, held it and then pulled it out quickly before it froze, reheating it and repeating the process several times. A drill-hole soon appeared in the ice and Tarn was able to leave the lad to knock it wider into a man-sized hole. The ice gave way easily, but not so much that it made fractures which would pose a danger to anyone working nearby.

Some of the Corsairs watched and Tarn came over to the group and started to drill similar holes for them. They had been using a drill, but had been unable to get it far into the ice. When they asked about Tarn’s method, he explained it and told them “It is how we hunt for fish under the ice”. He stood back and watched other groups work as he waited for the drill to reheat. He smiled when he saw the female officer again, this time hacking at the ice in frustration. He had thought of offering to help her, but seeing the anger in her face, he thought she was probably best left alone. One of the men offered him a drink from a flask and told him a joke and he turned back to the task. It was a good plan, but Tarn could see they would need a lot more holes for it to work.