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

[Durelin]

Khamir

Khamir was shocked when he heard shouts that “they were back,” and immediately was afraid something had gone wrong. They? The entire party, or...? When he limped over to find a cart pulling in to the makeshift camp and saw only Beloan and Azhar in it, the Southron was not sure if he should be relieved or dread even more. He was glad to see his friend, at least, and he gave the man a nod in greeting.

Beloan’s message was not bad news for the scouting party, at least, but it was for those at the camp, with so many wounded and weak to move. It would be a longer trek than it should to get all of them to the slaver camp. Athwen seemed particularly concerned, and perhaps as angry as the gentle-mannered woman could get about the matter. Khamir had hoped they would get moving again as quickly as possible, though. He hated this waiting around...waiting for more trouble, more setbacks, and more death.

“In the camp, we found orcs....six sleeping orcs that the scouts seized and threw into the pit.”

At the girl’s words Khamir felt nearly every muscle in his body tighten from a mix of fear and rage. Orcs...and so few...but their presence and their numbers was not the biggest shock: rather, it was the fact that they were captives. Orcs did not take prisoners unless they were specifically ordered to. They were animals; they didn’t show mercy. And Khamir knew that was what this was. Mercy. If that Elf knew so much about Orcs, why was he so soft?

It took a great deal of effort for Khamir to keep his mouth shut while Dorran spoke, and he broke in after the man was finished, though the Southron knew he was cutting off Athwen from answering.

“The Orcs are captives?!” he shouted angrily from behind some of the others who had gathered to greet the wagon. “They had best be dead before I get there, or I’ll have work to do…”

After his outburst, and a sigh that helped release some of his anger, he glanced at Athwen apologetically, a little ashamed.

[Tevildo]

Anger bubbled up inside Azhar as she turned to face Khamir, "They were asleep. What would you have us do? Run them through without a second thought? Lindir hopes to get them to talk. Perhaps to find out whether there are other troops nearby. But surely you would not kill someone, even an orc, in his sleep!"

Azhar whirled around to Athwen and explained. "I will go help the others prepare to leave. Darkness comes and we must be ready to move out in the morning. Hopefully, people will be in a better mood by then." With that she turned and stalked away.

[Folwren]

Athwen was stunned to silence by more than just one person’s words. To move the wounded would be difficult and possibly dangerous work. Some of the wounds, if jarred and reopened, could bleed badly, and for some of those men, to loose any more blood would likely mean losing their very life.

And then the news of the orcs was surprising, too. Dorran’s reaction was shocking to Athwen and it made her heart beat with nervousness. Dorran was rarely so obviously angry and disgusted and it nearly frightened Athwen. But Khamir’s words...pure hatred rang in his voice and his words revealed murder. Athwen’s head snapped about and her eyes flashed, but it was Azhar who responded.

“They were asleep! What would you have us do? Run them through without a second thought? Lindir hopes to get them to talk. Perhapts to find out whether there are other troops nearby. But surely you would not kill someone, even an orc, in his sleep!”

What did she mean, Lindir hopes to get them to talk? Surely he did not intend. . .

“I will go help the others prepare to leave,” Azhar said to her, interrupting her disturbed thoughts. “Darkness comes and we must be ready to move out in the morning. Hopefully, people will be in a better mood by then.” She leaped down from the wagon and started away. Athwen sent a single, reproachful look at both Khamir and Dorran, and started after Azhar.

Dorran had asked her if it was possible to move the wounded, but Athwen had not answered. Khamir had interrupted, and quite honestly, she didn’t know if it was possible. But orders were orders, and Lindir would not have given such drastic ones if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Besides, Dorran himself had said that it was necessary.

She stopped on the edge of rock sheltered hollow in which the wounded lay. Her eyes scanned her charges, her hands rested on her hips, and her lips pursed themselves together. Most of them, she decided, would make it just fine. One or two would be in possible danger. A couple would have to walk, but they would be able to manage it.

“Azhar,” she said to the girl waiting by her side. “Run back and tell them to bring the wagon is as close as they can. Then send Dorran and Beloan and any other man who can back here, to help these wounded.”

[Child of the 7th Age]

post for Lindir

Lindir stood motionless on the western edge of camp staring out across the plain. He was still worried about Aiwendil. The old man would surely have understood to meet them in the slavers' camp. Yet, despite all the elf's efforts, he had not been able to sense the wizard's presence or convey him any message. It was as if the istar had purposely shielded his mind to keep anyone from finding him. He did not think the old man was dead, but why he had done such a thing Lindir could not imagine. Perhaps Aiwendil had chanced upon a group of strangers in the wild and was trying to keep from being detected. For one instance an image of a large troop of orcs rose up and assaulted Lindir's mind, but he quickly dismissed that possibility. Orcs, even the brightest and most powerful, could not mind read.

Whatever the reason for Aiwendil's absence, the old man was sorely missed. He could have been sent back to the base camp with Azhar and be able to report back to Lindir what was going on there. As it currently stood, the elf could only hope that Beloan and Azhar had made it across the plain without meeting any orcs and that the entire camp would be arriving safely the next day.

It was the moment in the day just before darkness fell. Lindir still had enough light to traipse along the perimeter of camp and check to make sure that everything was alright. He had almost finished surveying the entire area surrounding the camp and had swung back towards the pit where the orcs were imprisoned. He could hear curses and angry cries coming up from the bottom of the rocky chamber, but the prisoners were securely fastened by heavy leather thongs and had no chance of escape. The elf reminded himself to station at least two guards on the outskirts of their campsite, more to make sure that no one was invading the camp from outside than because of any fear that the prisoners themselves would try and escape.

Lindir stood on a hillside that looked down on the pit, one that was covered with rocks and thick bushes, a perfect place for anyone to hide if they wanted to get a closer look at what was going on. Bending down to inspect the underbrush, the elf saw something that sent a bitter chill through his heart. Tracks.... Clear signs of tracks that had been left not by a man or orc, but by a horse. The tracks were fresh and deep and purposeful, suggesting that the horse that had stood here had carried a rider on his back, and a heavy one at that. A second look at the dirt only confirmed his fears. There were scuffed footprints belonging to several large two-footed creatures. At least one pair of tracks was too large to be man sized.

Lindir's fingers tightened momentarily on the hilt of his sword. Then he deftly removed the bow from his back, selected an arrow, and swung around, searching for any sign of the orc creatures who had come here with the horse. Seeing no one, he dropped the bow to his side and sprinted back to camp, calling out to everyone to join him near the fire pit. There was a heavy mist in the air that seemed to suggest a rain was coming. Quickly, the elf explained, "It is just as I feared. There are clear signs that several orcs stood gazing down on us no more than a few hours ago not far from the pit. Worst of all, they had at least one horse. I can only presume that these orcs were additional scouts who have gone back to warn the others. I am afraid we may get some visitors tonight. I only hope it is not too many." He looked around at the men and sighed, "I wish I could say otherwise but there'll be no sleep. We must station ourselves behind boulders and in the thick of the brush. We must greet them with a hail of arrows and rocks near the mouth of the pit, for that is surely where they will go. then we must charge in and attack them directly. Let's just hope their numbers are not too great."

He was about to dismiss the group when one of the men called out. "You do not know these parts. But often the windstorms come at the start of the rainy season. Already, I can feel the weather shift. The night rains are coming. I just wanted to warn you that it may be hard to see if we get a heavy rain. But there is another thing. If we find it hard to see, they may find it hard to get a good footing. That may be in our favor sisnce we attack from afar."

"I did not know that. Your words are wise," Lindir responded. "And perhaps,, just perhaps, we can help nature along. There is water in the creek, and we have several buckets. Go quickly now. Carry some of the water back to the mouth of the pit. Try to soak the ground, and then lie down a thin layer of cover, enough to hide the mud but not enough to give them real traction. The rest of you go and gather rocks along with any bows and arrows. Check the camp to see if any were left behind. Do your work quickly as we have little time before night falls, and I do not think our guests will be late."

With that the group dispersed and went to their duties.

_________________

post for Makdush

"I tell you I heard this not more than an hour ago," protested Makdush. "Two men talking, saying that the rest of their band will arrive sometime tomorrow. Who knows how big that group is? This time Ishkur is right. If we are going to free our comrades, it must be tonight. The man fools are tired. They do not know we are coming. I found a heavy rope in camp that we may draw them up one-by-one. We should only have to kill one or two guards. Surely we can do that. What will it be then? Are we soldiers or do we sit here like women " He glared over at Gwerr and Ishkur.

It was Ishkur who spoke first. "You know how I feel. From the first, I wanted to strike at these vermin and rescue the others. I say go."

Gwerr's response was longer in coming, "I do not like it. Being a soldier is one thing. Keeping my neck from being slit is another. But if what you say is true, this will be our last chance. And I would not travel north and leave them behind. We need more than the three of us to make it safely to the north. I will go. But Makdush," and here Gwerr glared, "you'd better be right about this."

"We'll leave the horse here, and other things as well," Ishkur muttered softly to Gwerr, giving no explanation as to what he meant by other things. Makdush wondered about that but there was no time to ask. The three set out towards the camp as soon as darkness bathed the plain. The rain was already coming down in a steady sheet.

[Durelin]

Khamir

Khamir knew he was wrong to interrupt Athwen, but he could not and would not feel what he had said was wrong. And certainly just words couldn't be wrong in that way. He was right, justified in his anger. And orcs were creatures. They were not like Men or even the Elves, Dwarves, and Hobbits who were strange to him. They did not have the same sort of heart or soul, if they had one at all. He knew this from what he had observed with his own two eyes, and the pain he had received at the hands of monsters.

He had thought of the slavers as monsters, too. They were men, like him, just from the East... No, that was different, he told himself, forcing away the exception that might break his rule.

Khamir worried that Athwen would have some stern words for him, but he was surprised that instead the girl spoke up again.

"They were asleep," Azhar began, her voice stronger than he expected from such a young child - particularly a girl. "What would you have us do? Run them through without a second thought? Lindir hopes to get them to talk. Perhaps to find out whether there are other troops nearby. But surely you would not kill someone, even an orc, in his sleep!"

Anger boiled up again in the Southron. This girl dared to judge him, dared to give him some kind of lesson in what was fair and right and just. He had heard it all before: all this nonsense of not attacking a man when his back was turned, not touching those who are innocent, using only what force was necessary. Rules like that were nice in a game, when fairness was a part of what kept it fun, but life was not a game. And life in...this land...this dark place...there was nothing fair to it. Herd animals left behind the weakest, and predators attacked the weakest of the herd...the creatures of Mordor of all types behaved in this way, and men who lived by any other way were the weakest left behind.

Khamir opened his mouth without words prepared, and without any concern for whether or not he might regret what would emerge, but then he caught Athwen's disapproving glance. It was like the look his mother had given him on countless occasions when he would return home late, usually battered and bloody, and sometimes with a new possession in his hands that did not really belong to him...and, even now, it was enough to quiet him, though he was unable to listen to what the woman said as his mind was plagued with hatred. Khamir left in silence to inform Adnan and Vrór of the news, and help them and others prepare to leave.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Carl

Lindir’s pronouncement that they had already been spied upon by hidden orcs, along with his speculation that some stealthy visitors might appear in the night left Carl feeling distinctly on edge. And the hope of rain after the oppressive and seemingly endless dry weather, normally would have been welcome news to the farmer, but now it only added to the tension with its uncertainty and timing. If only those orcs would pipe down! the hobbit thought as he struggled to follow his thoughts to some sort of conclusion while a commotion and howling jeers emanated from the pit.

Try as he might, Carl’s anxious mind couldn’t get a firm grip on the reasoning behind Lindir’s decision to spare the orcs for now, when so many around them had suffered from their likes. But his brain kept circling back to the notion instilled it him that they were myth-like, filled to the very brim with evil. Surely those very beasts would skin and salt Man, Elf or Hobbit, free or imprisoned, given half a chance…make sport of it too! The slavers had been a hazard, to be sure, but at least you might have the hope of reasoning with them. But Orcs? The hobbit shuddered pondering it, and took his place in the line forming to transport water to the edges of the pit. He couldn't help but wonder if the decisions of elves were to be trusted once they had been around for more than a few hundred years, or so. He for one, couldn’t sleep a wink while those orcs were in the camp. But then again, Lindir didn’t appear to need much sleep, did he?

It was not long before water was being splashed about the pit, garnering more loud shouts and jibes from the orcs trapped below, as the small rivulets snaked their way under the grate that covered the hole. The imprisoned creatures’ pointed words were all the more injurious for the grains of truth that they bore, as their barbs condemned their treatment at the hands of their captors. So effective this tactic was to the uninitiated that hobbit quickly excused himself, saying that his injured arm was not yet ready to heft the large buckets of water, let alone buckets of buckets. But the truth of it was that the insults had struck his conscience, with a sting greater than the one in his arm.

And so as the first raindrops fell, he took to searching about the camp far from the pit, gathering what he could to help defend against the anticipated attack, and ever mindful that he should keep on eye out for what they might need should they see the light of day again.

[Nogrod]

The three orcs advanced towards the camp in the thickening rain. They had drawn their weapons and were approaching the camp fast and quiet. Makdush had refused to take the lead and so Ishkur was in the front. Gwerr came a few yards behind to his left and Makdush was at level with Gwerr to the right. Gwerr was checking the left flank and left-behind Makdush the right flank and right-behind, Ishkur took care of the front. They worked as a team now as they were forced to do it.

They had just passed the slaver captain’s tent and were fast approaching the pit when Ishkur suddenly stopped and raised his hand up. The two halted immediately and went down. All three were trying to hold their panting and kept motionless for a moment just listening and sensing the envirovement.

As soon as Gwerr realised that there was no imminent threat to them but that Ishkur had halted for some other reason he started crawling slowly forwards. From the corner of his eye he could note Makdush reaching the same conclusion. The rain was getting ever heavier making the coming darkness even deeper.

“What is it?”, Gwerr hissed from between his teeth when he was close enough.

Ishkur turned around to address both of the two now close behind him. “The pit is there, see? But there are no guards anywhere to be seen...” Ishkur looked at Makdush questioningly.

“Now what is this crap?”, Gwerr grouched in a low voice looking at Makdush sternly.

They were silent for a moment as they all were gathering their thoughts on this sudden change in the situation. They had been ready to attack and kill and then free their friends but now there was no one to be seen or heard from the pounding rain. They were eyeing each other in disbelief.

“I can smell a rat here. I say we pull back”, Gwerr whispered at last. He was looking at both his companions seriously. “There is something wrong here...”

“No Gwerr. We need to rescue our friends... and his...”, with that Ishkur nodded towards Makdush. “We need everyone now and you know it. And we have no better chance for it but now. You remember what Makdush told us? There will be a band of humans around here tomorrow so it’s now or never.” Ishkur seemed to be both focused and determined.

Makdush seemed to have fallen deep into his thoughts but was soon to react to what was said. “They’re humans... They’re taking shelter from the rain, you know those skinless spindleshanks...” He glanced at both the orcs. “I say we’ll go for it, now”.

Gwerr realised that he was left alone with his reservations and grunted. “I see your point Ishkur my friend”, he said without even glancing at Makdush. "But let’s do this carefully. I just don’t like the smell of this... Remember that they have that elf with them”. Gwerr studied Ishkur’s expression for a while and then added. “I’ll go and have a look around. You two go with the rope. I’ll meet you in a minute”. With that he sprang to his feet and disappeared into the gathering darkness and rain from the sight of the two. Ishkur nodded to Makdush and they started approaching the pit slowly.

Gwerr was furious but tried to calm down as well as he could. He almost wished to discover humans hiding behind the nearest bushes ready to attack them just to show the others that he was right, but surely it would be much better if Makdush would be right and they could just free their friends with no fight. The warmongers and those keen to fight were usually those who hadn’t actually tasted a battle in their lives – or fools. Gwerr had had his share of fighting during his lifespan of a few thousand years and had grown wise enough to avoid any if he could. Funny I’m still alive, he thought to himself while these ideas sprang through his mind.

Gwerr started searching the nearest thickets and bushes around the pit. He paused beside a larger bush for a while as he thought he had heard movement from within it. He was streching his senses trying to focus to the bush while maintaining an ear to the surroundings as well and filtering the occasional noises from his comrades from behind him. Apart from the rain it was quiet.


*** ~ ***
Ishkur and Makdush had reached the pit only to discover the door to it being ajar. Makdush pulled it open and Ishkur kneeled to the ground to address their companions.

“Are you there? It’s me, Ishkur. We’re here to get you out”, he hissed as loud as he dared.

“Ishkur, by Mordor it’s good to hear you!” Colagar shouted back from the bottom of the pit.

“Quieter you idiot” Ishkur hissed back. “We’ll throw you a rope and you’ll climb up, okay?” Ishkur called back careful not to raise his voice over the falling rain.

“Throw us a knife first as we’re tied”, Kurrak called from the bottom of the pit a lot quieter than Colagar had done.

“Ohh, you stupid drunkards...” Makdush muttered as he unsheathed his knife and gave it to Ishkur.

“Okay, here it comes. I hope someone of you gets hit, you idiots”. With that Ishkur dropped the knife to the pit.


*** ~ ***
Gwerr thought he saw an odd dark shape beneath the bush. It might be a boulder as well... he thought to himself but decided to have a closer look anyhow. He turned a couple of branches away from his sight and readied his axe when he heard Makdush calling him.

“Gwerr! C’mon and give us a hand. We need to pull these drunkards out from there.”

Gwerr hesitated for a moment but backed away in the end. It's probably a rock anyhow and we need to get away from here as soon as possible...

When Gwerr reached the two Makdush was already lowering the rope down to the pit and Ishkur was on all fours following the rope with his eyes.

But then the rocks started falling on them. Lots of sharp rocks thrown or slinged on them from all around. Most of them went astray and crackled to the ground around them but a few hit as well. Gwerr got a nasty hit to his upper back and fell down to his face from the impact. He rose up shutting the pain down only to see a band of fierce looking humans coming towards them their blades revealed. And there were more rocks speeding on their direction from behind the men that approached.

Gwerr had just gotten to his feet and turned to face the men coming towards them when a rock hit him to the forehead. All went black in his mind for a second. He tried to hold his balance with pure instincts but the ground was too slippery and he fell back over Ishkur who had been - alarmed by the sudden attack - trying to rise up behind him. Gwerr realised himself tumbling down on his mate but then there was nothing under him but air. He was falling.