Fall of the North RPG

[Arry]

The Elves had pushed their horses as much as they dared in an effort to catch up to the Orc troops. They were resting now, in a small clearing near the tracks they had been following. It afforded them some measure of cover against the chill air and left an easy view of the route the Orcs had taken with their captives. It was not only the horses who were relieved at the rest, but Faerim also who welcomed a chance to replenish his energy.

Rôsgollo threw him a spare blanket from one of the extra horses they’d brought as the young man sat on the ground, his back resting against a log. Faerim had offered to make a small fire to drive off the chill, but Gaeredhel had spoken up, saying there would be no fires until the captives were freed and all were in a safer place. ‘Orcs have eyes and noses. We cannot afford to have them know our little group is following.’

It was only a brief rest before they pushed on again. The track led them southwest from the Dunedain encampment. The Orcs had traveled quickly despite the burden of their captives and had made no effort to conceal the direction they had taken. A while later, the Elves and Faerim came to a rocky area where it appeared the Orcs had made a brief camp. Angóre and Gaeredhel scouted about the perimeter while Faerim and Rôsgollo attended to the horses and kept watch.

‘Did you find where they have gone?’ asked Rôsgollo as his brother came running back.

‘They have split up, it seems,’ Gaeredhel replied. ‘Some heading southeast, another group of equal size it appears, heads west. I followed for a length down the southwest track. Again, they make no effort to conceal themselves from any who might be on their trail. I could not tell if they bore the captives with them or no. Angóre has gone scouting down the west way. Let us wait here until he brings back his report. Then we can decide which route to follow.’ He looked hopefully at his brother.

‘Nay, there is no answer. Something clouds Lord Ereglin’s mind.’ Rôsgollo shook his head. ‘I can only hope he will break free of it at least for a brief moment and give us word of himself and the others.’

The trio hid the horses in a small clearing among the boulders, then hunkered down themselves to keep watch for Angóre . . .

[Garen LiLorian]

Angóre moved slowly along the western troupe's trail. This splitting of the Orcish strength worried him. When they had first come to the place where the party had split it had made him glad: the obvious explanation was that the foul folk had quarreled, whether over the captives or the direction was, of course, unknown. But Orcish quarrels tended to leave corpses in their wake, and no sign of conflict could be seen. Already Angóre was starting to have a healthy respect for the unknown captain of these Orcs, and this further solidified his feeling. It was a rare captain who could split his troop, sending some off in a clearly diversionary tactic. Especially when prisoners and spoil lay with one group.

He had been working his way along for perhaps a quarter of an hour when he came to a small stream. He frowned. This did not look good. The Orcs had entered the stream and moved along it, in which direction Angóre could not tell from where he stood. The little stream had started to freeze in the chill of the night before, and for a moment Angóre hoped he might be able to tell their direction from the broken ice reaching out from both banks, but the Orcs had stuck to the center of the stream and if they had broken off ice, Angóre couldn't tell the difference.

Gaeredhel had only just finished giving his report when the trio heard the slow clop of Angóre's horse. They looked up at him expectantly as he entered the clearing, but he shook his head in negation. "I cannot tell," he said simply. "Any luck from you?"

Gaeredhel shook his head as well. Angóre sighed. "There is a frozen stream not far from here. The Orcs I was following entered it, in which direction I cannot say. But they cannot have stayed in the water for long; the cold would sap the strength from their legs. But it is worrying nonetheless; it is the first thought they have taken to throwing off pursuit. I fear it will only become more difficult to track them from here on."

Faerim spoke slowly. "If one of the troops is taking care to conceal themselves, and the other isn't, I'd guess that the first troop is the important one and the second is the decoy." He looked up at Angóre, who nodded in agreement. "That would also be my guess. But the orcish captain has proved so cunning thus far I would not put it past him to take advantage of this. I do not know if we can afford to leave one column alone entirely."

"How far ahead would you say they are?" Rôsgollo asked. "Not far," Gaeredhel spoke up, "I would say not more than a few hours." Angóre nodded in agreement with Gaeredhel's assessment. "Then," Rôsgollo continued, "we might follow both trains and when we've found which contains Lord Ereglin, send word to the others."

"I'm not sure I like that idea," Faerim said. "It'd be at least another whole day while the other two caught up, even if we could get a message to them immediately. Throw in the Orcs' movements and we could be separated by half of Arnor right when we need to act."

Angóre nodded again. "I agree with the boy. We must choose one, and pray that it is the right one. I would choose the westward trail, but it is a baseless guess and I do not lead this company. What do you think?"

[Novnarwen]

He was back at the Inner Sanctum. He was sitting on his mother's mare, helpless and afraid. By hearing the voices filled with horror and despair, he felt little and unimportant where he sat, weak even. He wondered how it would be if could see. What would he see? Would it be different from what he was seeing inside his head? Would it be worse or better? The feeling of anxiety rose inside of him as time went by. He was shaking wildly where he sat, waiting for something to happen, or someone to come. Who? What? Surprised by being alone, he knew what it was that worried him. Desperately, he called out for his brother and his mother. “Lissi, Faerim?” His voice echoed, and yet it sounded faint and distant. His breath went hurriedly, and sped up as time went by. No one answered. Again he called, but there was only silence. Silence. There was nothing, not a single sound. Why? How come time seemed suddenly to stand still? Stricken by this, he tried listening attentively to anything that was going on. rRegardless of how much he tried however, how much effort he put into calming himself and listen to his surroundings, there was nothing.

His mother’s mare grew uneasy, sensing the same oddness of the situation as himself. He held the reins of the horse firmly, deciding never to let go. With the absence of his family, mother and brother, the horse was all he had. When a few minutes had passed, the urge, or need, to understand what was going on took command over him. Being afraid of the danger with revealing ones location to a possible enemy, he nevertheless decided that it was the only thing he could do. With a shaking voice, first silently, then aloud, he called out. “Hello!?!”

Brander woke up. He opened his eyes, expected to see as if his whole life had been nothing but a dream. Black, black as always. “Faerim, are you here?” He rolled onto his back, feeling a silent breeze touching his skin, softly, and as he heard the sound of fabric waving in the wind, he knew that what he first had feared was definitely untrue.

Calling for Faerim again, but hearing no reply, he realised that it was probably passed mid-day, and he didn't blame his brother for having gone out while he was asleep.

[Arry]

‘I have found Orcs to be clever, to a point,’ said Rôsgollo. ‘Cunning, in fact. But in a straight forward way. Nothing so refined and intricate as thinking they can make us believe that the group who is taking care to conceal its tracks is the one with the hostages when it is not. My thought would be that we try to overtake those Orcs heading west.’

Gaeredhel nodded his head at his brother’s words. ‘What bothers me also is that they have split their strength. They cannot know how many Elves and Dunedain will come after them. It concerns me that the group with the captives has plans of meeting up with a larger force. If we are to free the hostages, then it should be done before the Orc troops increase in number.’

‘The stream presents another problem, as Angóre has said,’ continued Rôsgollo. ‘He could not tell whether they went north or south along its course.’

‘But if the water is frigid, then they will have to come out of it at some point not far from where they entered as Angore said.’ Gaeredhel crouched down and with the point of his knife drew two parallel lines in the dirt to represent the stream. ‘Were I the Orc leader,’ he said, ‘I would have my troop travel as far as they could in the cold water. And ahead of my column I would send out scouts to see what problems lie ahead. They would not keep to the watery track but range out along the embankment and the areas to each side of it. Surely, if we travel just a small way up or down the stream we should be able to pick up these lone Orc tracks, coming and going.’

‘We can split up then, when we reach the frozen stream. Do you not think so, Angóre?’ Rôsgollo asked. ‘Since we are on horse, the time spent to find the scout tracks should be short. Two of us can go north and two to the south. Gaeredhel and I will split up, and keep in touch with one another as we travel along. When one of us has found the column’s direction the he will give notice, and the other and his companion can hasten back.’

‘Why can’t you ask the other Elves where they’ve gone, then?’ Faerim voiced the obvious question. He’d listened closely to the discussion and had wondered previously at the Elves ability to speak with each other without words.

‘A fair question,’ Rôsgollo answered. ‘And normally it would not be a problem to do so with Lord Ereglin. But something clouds his mind, keeps his thoughts hazy, and him hard to reach. I can sense that he is not far away, but I cannot rouse him to aid us in our search. At some point I am hoping he will break through whatever dams his thoughts, but until then we will just have to proceed as we are doing now.’

‘We should make haste, brother,’ Gaeredhel urged, making his way back to where his horse was tethered.

They mounted their horses and made their way as quickly and quietly as they could to where the westward tracks of the Orc group met the stream. Angóre and Gaeredhel, it was agreed, would head north, up the stream, while Faerim and Rôsgollo searched to the south