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

[Nogrod]

Hadith

They were on their knees waiting. The wind had steadily arisen and the gusts were ever more fiercer. There were five of them in the front row and six in the line behind them. The visibility was reducing from poor to non-existant. There was sand all over, the fine dust of Mordor filled the air around them and with violent breezes it filled their noses and ears. They were silent and they waited.

Joshwan was in the middle, his blade still sheathed as he had a spear in his right hand leaning to the ground tip down so that the line of it could not be seen. As the most experienced fighter around he would lead the way jumping over the tunnel and attempting to bring down one rider who would not have fallen into the trap. Erlech was farthest right. He also had a spear and would go round the tunnel from his side, trying the same as Joshwan. Hadith was at the left end of the row. Beloan was kneeling between him and Joshwan, looking stern and focused. Then there was this bearded and grim-looking former ex-slave Hadith didn’t know by name between Joshwan and Erlech. Hadith took a short glance around the front row. Only five men. Looking backwards he could see Khamir and Adnan behind him and then some others he didn’t recognise by name – albeit the last in the right end of the second row was Fewerth. So this is the best we can muster against a cavalry of experienced riders? Hadith thought to himself shaking his head slightly. He was afraid.

Hadith thought of Johari again, as he had so many times after she had left him with biting words. What have I done wrong to her? He thought for the hundreth time. Why is she like that? What has happened to her? Hadith just couldn’t understand. But the more he thought of her, the more he wished to understand her. There was something in her, some magic, something he could not form an idea in his feelings, let alone describe in words in his mind.

Suddenly he felt a strong urge to go and see that Johari had made it to the safety and was not wandering around alone as an easy pray to the slavers. He should go and see to her. But it was not his will-power that restrained him from springing up and making the dangerous and stupid thing he was wishing to do. His legs just refused to move. They felt like they were made of a mass of trembling jelly over which he had no control.

Hadith remembered Joshwan and Beloan encouraging the men just an half an hour ago. The mood had been different then, although also some grave words had been uttered. Hadith closed his eyes from yet another gust of wind and just dived to the past words.

“The sound of a charging cavalry disheartens even the experienced soldier. It will sound like a thunder of Darkness itself is coming to get you, rushing over you with a force you can not withhold. That is what you’re going to hear. I’ve stood against a cavalry onslaught twice and at the first time I wetted my pants from the sheer horror of it. But I’m alive as you can see!” That had been Joshwan.

“We will be afraid brothers. We will be. But just because of that no one should be ashamed of it! It’s all about overcoming the fear. Show them our hearts are ringing! Show them that our hearts are a mighty-thumping! Show them our hearts are made of iron! We will fight for our freedom!” That had been Beloan in turn.

Hadith remembered the upbeat feeling there had been just a while ago. Beloan had asked him to join the first row, to join him, by his side. Overrun by the enthusiasm of that moment Hadith had agreed. It had been an honour to be called to the first row. He remembered Adnan’s face as he had walked to the first line beside Beloan. Somehow he had felt sorry for the guy.

Now he was getting second thoughts and was more than happy on behalf of Adnan who got to be on the second row. What am I doing here? I’m just a boy! I’ve thrown a knife at a human being once, instinctively. I’ve killed a few deer... I’m no soldier. I’m no warrior. What will I do when the thunder of the onslaught will come? My legs don’t obey me even now.

Hadith didn’t hear or see them coming as the gust of wind deafened his ears and brought the visibility next to nothing. But he felt them. At first it was just a slight trembling of the ground under him, but it grew stronger by the second and in no time the earth had started to shake violently. Then he heard them despite the ever harder blowing wind. Joshwan had been right. Hadith felt his blood rushing away from his limbs and started to tremble himself. His teeth were chattering and he felt dizzy. If his legs seemed not ready to follow his orders a moment ago, now he didn’t even feel their presence any more.

As Beloan’s hand fell on his shoulder he wetted himself from sheer panic that had totally immobilised him. He felt that he had no control over his body. The approaching sound of the hooves filled his consciousness and made even his mind to go on slow motion. Hadith was shaking all over, uncontrollably.

“Courage, Hadith, Courage” Beloan said to him in a low voice, leaning carefully towards him and taking a firmer grip on his shoulder. Even Beloan felt tense and a bit shaky. “For freedom, Hadith. If we don’t fight, who will?”

As Beloan withdrew his hand there was a new and even fiercer gust of wind that filled Hadith’s ears and nose with dust and for a moment the thunder of the oncoming cavalry went off. Then, just without warning the wind ceased for a second. He saw something. There was a lonely rider coming towards them. Just then the rumble of the chasers filled his ears again and he felt the earth pounded under the heavy horses. The sound now even beat the howling of the wind.

This is it then... Courage Hadith, courage.

[Child of the 7th Age]

The journey back to camp had not been easy. With the winds gusting hard from behind, the old man had found it took all his strength and will just to place one weary foot in front of the other and somehow keep moving in a straight line. If it hadn't been for Rôg and his uncanny sense of direction even in the middle of the blowing sand and dirt, Aiwendil would likely have veered off on the wrong path and totally missed the encampment. As it was, their return trek had been frustratingly slow. They had staggered into camp just a few moments before the main body of the attackers came riding into view.

At least he and Rôg had managed to stall the slavers long enough to allow Lindir and the others to complete their preparations for the camp. Nor was it a bad thing to have the slavers caught up in the storm, scarcely able to see more than a few feet in front of them. Aiwendil had spoken briefly with the elf, first telling him what had happened out on the plain. Then he had offered to mount up and go with the group of riders who would be the first to face the attacking slavers. Lindir had responded with a slow shake of his head, "You would be a welcome addition to the riders, of course. If you feel that is where you belong, I will not stop you. Still, something else has been bothering me. Aiwendil, we have unprotected women and children, to say nothing of the elders, hiding in the rocks just west of camp. It is not much cover at all, but we could find nothing better. If the slavers attack head on and we manage to stop them, then all should be well. But how do we know they will all ride into camp on exactly the path we want? Or, worse yet, what if we are not able to halt them? I can not leave those people without the slightest shred of protection. Aiwendil, could you and possibly Rôg go out and join them? If there is an attack from the rear, do what you can to protect those folk."

Aiwendil quickly countered, "I will do as you say. But what can two do against a band of roving warriors?"

"To be truthful, I am not sure. I only know that two are better than none. There are others hiding in the rocks who might be able to help in a pinch. That young man Kwell who was rescued from the pit, the one to whom I gave the dagger, put him in charge of the other boys in case there is fighting. Have them all collect some rocks. Perhaps some of the boys have slings. Anything is better than nothing. And if the battle does come to you, you must call out to me. If I still have breath in my body, I will hearken to your cry and immediately send more fighters down to help you."

"I will do this then. Whether or not Rôg will agree, I do not know. But I will ask him as you suggest." With that, Aiwendil unstrapped his sword from the back of his horse and gave the animal to Lindir, suggesting that it be given to one of the others to ride.

[Brinniel]

As time passed, the storm only grew stronger. The wind howled with a fury and dust blew into Shae's face, causing her eyes to tear. She sat impatiently on top of the horse she had won- a horse she had named Furie- waiting, waiting for what seemed like hours.

As soon as it was announced that a cavalry would be formed, Shae volunteered to be part of it. After only one night on horseback, she had already grown accustomed to riding, and could not bear to part from this particular mare. If Shae had not been enslaved, she would have been an expert rider by now. Her great-grandfather had been a Rider of Rohan, and though they were Gondorians by two generations, her father often took pride in his grandfather's heritage. They owned many horses, and Shae had been taught to ride before she even learned to walk. Her father told her she had natural talent and a special bond with the creatures, and it proved so. By the age of five, she could ride just as well as Joren, who was eleven at the time. But after twenty years, Shae had lost much of what she learned- she could not claim to be anymore than a novice rider. Yet, over the course of one night, memories of the lessons her father gave came flooding back into the woman's memories, and she felt an attachment to Furie that she could not explain. While she was no where close to being an expert rider, Shae no longer felt uncomfortable in her saddle. On top of this horse was where she belonged, and sitting there gave her a thrill she had not experienced in years.

The dust storm only continued to grow in strength, blinding the woman's already poor vision. She began to ponder whether it was even possible to fight in such conditions. Relying on her ears, Shae listened closely, past the wailing wind. And then, the sound she had been searching for: hoofbeats. Clutching her long knife in her right hand and the reins in the other, she eyed the men next to her, who sat on their horses just as anxiously. She gave them a slight nod, listening as the hoofbeats grew louder. It would not be much longer. Her wait would soon be over.