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

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Carl

It was not long before Carl, gazing intently at the ground, noticed a long shadow slip over the stony soil beside him. Looking over his shoulder he saw that Athwen had joined him, an earnest expression on her face. “Tell me what you think you might find and I’ll help you look,” she offered.

The hobbit sighed deeply. “If only I knew, Miss,” he said, shaking his head. “Not a trail of cherry stones or cake crumbs, of that much I feel reasonably certain. But hopefully something will turn up if we look carefully.”

Reaching for a branch of yet another spiny and unfamiliar plant, Carl twisted off a leafy sprig. He looked at it absently, and out of habit crumbled a leaf to smell its fragrance. “These prickers ought to be good for something other than catching hobbits.” And seeing Athwen’s questioning look, he lifted his torn sleeve as evidence, for her to see. “I figured if I got caught on one, chances are someone else would too. They might have left us a flag, so to speak. And then maybe we will find something to cheer us, eh? Footprints or some such thing.”

Athwen nodded her understanding, and the two decided to divide the area north of the cave. Tucking her golden hair behind her ears, Athwen searched to Carl’s left while the hobbit continued in the direction he had been going. He was glad for her help, and together they quickly made their way toward a ridge that extended from the mountains like a giant rocky root. The stream turned to follow the ridge running along the rough shingle at its base. They were about to give up when Athwen gave a happy cry, and Carl ran to her, his bare feet scattering stones as he went.

There at Athwen’s feet lay a smooth stone, no bigger than the hobbit’s palm. And on the stone a rough symbol was lightly scratched, a tree with the moon to one side of it. Four small marks also were carefully drawn within the moon’s crescent.

“It’s the white tree of Gondor,” Athwen said smiling. “Someone has left us a sign!”

“A treasure you are, and your eyes too! How is it that you managed to see that small stone out of so many!” Carl said, picking up it up. “but I wonder what the moon means and the marks that are in it? It looks for all the world like a little chicken’s foot!”

“The moon might stand for Ithilien,” she answered, “but I’m afraid that the bird foot is a mystery to me.”

Carl looked at the drawing closely. “You know,” he said, “This reminds of a game I saw the children of the Pelennor play. They hide; leaving such tokens to help the others find them.”

“Yes, I have heard of it. But hadn't we better let the others know what we’ve found,” Athwen said.

“Of course, you are right!” And Carl bounded heavily over the terrain, like a awkward puppy running before Athwen, waving the stone over his head and shouting excitedly to the others, “Hey, hello! Miss Athwen has found us something.”

[Nogrod]

Hadith

I’ve lost my knife! I’ve lost it! After they had lightly bandaged his head and shoulder, Khala and Cuáran had left him alone to help with the other wounded. This is so humiliating! How I hate Fewerth!

The Easterling’s mutilated body lay face down a couple of feet from him. He had had a beautiful dark reddish brown coat that was now ripped and smeared all over with his own blood. He had had boots too but they had been taken away from him by someone. Hadith couldn’t see his spear either. I tiny shimmer of hope entered Hadith’s conciousness. If they haven’t turned him around, he might still have his knife! It might be even better than the one Khamir gave me! With that he rose quickly, feeling a bit dizzy at first from the effort but then went to the body to take a closer look at it.

He turned the body around. The fear that had frozen in his eyes was something Hadith couldn’t quite face. The man was young, not much older than Hadith was. Hadith could see it even though his face was bruised pretty badly. For a short while he was just embarrassed. The Easterling didn’t look like a mighty warrior or brutal villain, but like an ordinary young lad. He studied the corpse in haste. There was nothing left. Everything of any value had been ripped off him already.

Hadith turned the corpse back face on the ground and stood up. They trusted me with a knife and what did I do? I lost it! I’ve betrayed their confidence in me, I’ve totally bungled it! He felt desperate. There was no way that he could save himself from the humiliation now. They would find out sooner or later that he had lost his knife. So he should confess his shortcomings preferably know than later. On the plantation one always got over with easier punishment if one confessed early. Hadith had learned this just too well. Fewerth was always good at that! He suddenly remembered and his anger towards Fewerth rose again. Maybe I should just go to him and demand my knife back? Khamir could testify that it is the one given to me. Hadith was still standing by the side of the dead Easterling. He bit his lip, not knowing what to do. A single teardrop ran slowly down his dirty cheek.

But one didn’t peach against others. Not if they were true men. Hadith’s mother had been firm with this lesson and Hadith had taken it to his heart. Even as Fewerth had had been the one who had acted foully, he would not let on him. He would settle the matter with him, though. But as he was not sure when or how he could make it, he realised to his horror that he still would have to go and make the humiliating confession to Khamir.

With a heavy heart he started looking for Khamir. Will they ever trust me with a blade again? They will think of me not worthy any more...

“I don’t have time for this, Hadith” Khamir had answered him as he had addressed him with his troubles. That had been even more humiliating. And to top his anguish, he had gone and slipped Fewerth’s name to make his claim. He had been so nervous! He had planned all he would say when he would meet Khamir, but what happened? Just nervous mumbling and betrayal.

But it was Khamir’s words that made him actually to realise the situation. Many people were wounded, some might even be dead. How about that young girl who was attacked by the dog? He hadn’t checked or even asked about the girl after the skirmish was over. He had been so full of his loss of a knife he had forgotten about other people. Now he was not only humiliated but also ashamed of himself. His first test at being a worthy man and a defender of others had proven a disaster.

Suddenly he heard Khamir addressing him: “Hadith, come here,” he called him and gave him the knife he had taken from Adnan. “If you lose your knife again, to anyone, I cannot say you’ll get another.” Hadith was quite baffled of this new twist of fate. He took the knife and bowed to Khamir, but as he was trying to open his mouth to thank for the confidence or to promise to keep this one more carefully, Khamir had already turned away to address the others.

Hadith took his leave without asking as Khamir clearly seemed busy. I should do at least something right today, he thought to himself and took to looking for the older ladies. He found Khala and Cuáran soon enough and helped them with an older man who had a nasty cut in his side. But his mind was mainly preoccupied with solitary reproaches.

[Nogrod]

Gwerr

“You are right Ishkur. And the less we have food, the more eager those Wizard’s Wonderboys are getting rid of us.” Gwerr answered Ishkur while Colagar was nodding to both of them. The sun had already risen and the cold morning light painted the plains farther away. The line between light and shadow was moving towards them with a pace one could almost see.

“But coming across a group of others in here? We would be lucky indeed!” Gwerr continued after a short pause. “Who would be travelling here? The trade caravans yes, but you all know how heavily guarded they are.” Gwerr’s words didn’t sound encouraging and they weren’t meant to. They had very little meat indeed and he didn’t see any easy way to get more any time soon.

Gwerr took his piece of dried meat and carved a bite from it with his knife. He was slowly chewing it as he noted Ishkur following his eating with a gaze that could not be misinterpreted.

“Haven’t you eaten anything tonight?” Gwerr asked him a bit concernedly. Ishkur was important to them as he had brains and experience, and against the Uruks they would need all the able orcs when it would come to a confrontation. And they had been around so long that it felt somewhat wrong to see him starve. “And you have none with you?” Gwerr continued, quite not believing what he saw. I’ll have to rework my ideas about him and the brains...

Frowning he cut another bite of the meat and handed it towards Ishkur. “Eat, we don’t need you dead.”

[Child of the 7th Age]

"Wizard's Wonderboy, is it? That's enough Gwerr, if you want to live." Makdush's hand slipped to the hilt of his sword but then pulled back. "At least I'm not a lice ridden maggot the way you are. And keep your mouth closed about Saruman. He had a brain, which is something you lack."

"Anyways, you should listen to Ishkur. I hate to say this, but the orc spawn has a point. There's no game here, and we don't have enough food. I also went hunting, and all I bagged were two starving rats." Makdush held up the rats by the tail and then threw them on one of the women's laps. "Add these to the stew pot, girls. Share and share alike. But we're going to be mighty hungry in a few days unless we bag some real meat."

"I know these parts well. Number One used to have me lead orc gangs north from the plantations. Ishkur's right. Some people do make their way across the Ash Plain. Yes, the caravans are guarded. But a smart orc can outwit a guard and cut a throat or steal a horse while everyone's asleep. It's hard but possible. Plus, you've forgotten something.....runaway slaves who stupidly flee north instead of south....not that they last for very long. They're a bit stringy but easy prey. Three or four slaves without weapons. It's almost like child's play." Makdush licked his lips and rubbed his hands in anticipation.

"So what do you suggest?" Ishkur's voice was cold, but he did not turn away from the Uruk.

"Suggest? I suggest we get up tomorrow and head north, looking for tracks. We can't go back. None of us, unless we want our throats slit. Don't expect to find a large group of travellers these days but we'll find something. And, right now, a single man or pony is looking awfully good."

The camp was absolutely still. No one said a word. Of all the strange events of the day, this one was the strangest. Ishkur and Makdush....bitter enemies....were actually agreeing on what the group should do.

Ishkur quickly stood up and barked out an order, trying to cover up the fact that, for the first time, an orc and a Uruk had actually agreed on something. "Finish up and bed down. Women, clean up this mess near the firepit. Tomorrow we head north to hunt whatever happens to cross our path. And once we cross the plain, we go west, to the foothills of the mountains where there's plenty of game."

[Child of the 7th Age]

Aiwendil's response to the Dwarf was immediate, "Vrór, you are right. It would not be wise to venture north if we had no idea where the slaves went. Yet, we already know a good deal more than just a little while ago. And I believe it is enough to get us started."

Aiwendil pointed towards the sloping riverbank. "That place where the grass is matted..... Surely this is where the slaves crossed and headed north. Whether the slavers followed behind them, or were even driving them forward, we can't know for sure. But I am convinced if we follow those tracks we will eventually find the slaves. We also know they are going to the southern reaches of the Plateau of Gorgoroth for this is what was written in the letter to Elessar. Surely, they would not go too widely off track. We are fortunate to have in our company two of the best scouts in all the west." Here the wizard's eyes rested on Dorran and Lindir.

"Plus, there is another thing." Aiwendil stopped a moment uncertain how much more he should say. "My servant Rôg is amazingly talented. At my request, he is going off to have a look at some wildlife while we are collecting ourselves here, a special survey that Elessar asked us to undertake regarding the birds and beasts in Mordor. But Rôg is amazingly observent, and I don't doubt that if there is anything special to see or be discovered that will help us, he will handle himself quite well. Indeed, we may know more when he returns, though I cannot say for sure."

At the exact moment when Aiwendil finished his cryptic speech, Athwen and Carl burst into the group. In Carl's hand was a small stone that he immediately gave to Lindir. The Elf examined it closely and then turned to Athwen with a smile, "You have done well. No slaver would have owned such a thing. Surely this belonged to one of the slaves." Lindir held it up in the fading light and peered at the shapes more closely, "The White Tree of Gondor, and is this a moon of Ithilien? Amazing, just amazing. Perhaps our tales of the great war are known even here. But what is this?" Lindir's brow furled down but he continued talking, more to himself than to anyone in the group. "I really have no idea. How strange. A bird's foot? Perhaps a representation of an Eagle? But no, the claws are not sharp enough."

Lindir handed the stone back to Carl, shaking his head. "I do not know what this means. But surely it is an omen of goodness left behind, whether intentionally or not. Let us do this. We can not leave at this minute. Make a fire and we will have some supper and wait for Rôg's return. We have had nothing all day and can not keep pushing on without a moment's rest. Then we can talk and decide whether we will leave now, or wait till the morning. But I do believe we have no choice except to head north."

Without waiting for an answer, Lindir pushed Aiwendil over to the side, "What is this about Rôg? Just where is he going?"

"I am not sure," Aiwendil honestly answered. "But he is very observent and if there's something to be seen, he will see it."

"Aiwendil, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Aye, Lindir, you know something of my past, more than most of the others here, and you know there is much that I do not speak about."

"No, no. That's not what I mean. I was referring to your manservant. I need to know the strengths of every member of this group, and yet I know very little about this Rôg."

Aiwendil shook his head, "As to that, I can not say. If you have any questions, I would suggest that you speak with him. I can only say that he is one of the most competent men and most loyal friends I have known. If I were in a spot of great danger, I truly cannot think of another person that I would rather have at my side." The last phrase was spoken with a hint of dry humor that left Lindir scratching his head.