Wilderness, Weathertop, & Wild Things RPG

[Primrose Bolger]

‘Retreat! Retreat!’ Grimm heard Búbkûr’s cry from atop the hill. ‘Smart ‘un, that,’ he snorted at his brother. Broga was leaning on Grimm’s arm with his right hand as they picked their way down the rocky track on the northern side of Weathertop. His left eye had stopped bleeding. Grimm had yanked the arrow from it. No use being careful he’d said, the eye’s gone. Despite the pain, Broga was already thinking how much more gruesome, that is Troll-handsome, he was going to be now. Should they ever manage to find any females of their own persuasion, he was sure now to be on par with his brother.

As if reading his thoughts, Grimm pinched the half-blind Troll hard on the arm. ‘Pay attention with what sight you got, brother. Fall off the hill now and you’ll not live to go dancing in the Shaws again.’

‘Underestimated the little worms, we did,’ Grimm went on, helping Broga across a particularly slippery, pebbly place. ‘That Orc chief has a lot of little grunts under him,’ returned Broga. ‘Why didn’t he just send all of us in to crush them? That’s what I want to know.’

The two Trolls picked up there speed once down on level ground, heading toward where the Orc encampment lay. ‘Don’t know why he didn’t,’ puffed Grimm as they thumped along. ‘But I know what I’d do now.’

‘What’s that?’ asked Broga, slowing the pace. The jarring of their quick steps was beginning to make his eye throb all the more.

‘We got to cut them off from getting back to the man town. Too easy for them to get plenty of angry farmers and the like to come after us. We got easy pickin’ around here. We don’t want ‘em knowing who’s doing it.’ Grimm scratched his chest as he thought this out. Nodding vigorously as his thoughts took shape. ‘So what should we do, you ask,’ he went on in a satisfied way. Broga looked at him with his one good eye and opened his mouth to remind his brother that, no, he hadn’t actually asked. Grimm, however, ignored his brother’s protests and went on. ‘You know,’ he said, giving a ghastly grin. ‘We got cousins back east. In the Shaws. Let’s see if old Chiefy’ll want to herd them that way. We can torture ‘em as we go. N’ stomp ‘em good once we had our fun.’

A wicked light shone in Broga’s lone eye. ‘I want to stick one of them Elf’s arrows in his own eye,’ he rasped out. ‘See how he likes it. Nasty Elf!’

‘Well, then, let’s go tell His Orc-high'n'mightyness what we’re thinking. We’ll need to get back soon and cut them off from heading back to the town. Part of us can do that, the rest can force ‘em to the Shaws.’

[Alaksoron]

Osric worked quickly administering medicinal herbs to Veryadan, but he couldn't do much. He managed to seal up the wounds and relieve the pain some, but he was no magic healer. Veryadan would heal, but it would take time.

"That's all I can do for him." Osric said. He brought a waterskin to Veryadan's lips. "You need rest." Turning to Luinien, he said "Let's have a look at that arm. You too, Aidwain. Bring me your ankle."

Again Osric could do little more than bandage and relieve pain, but the Elves were grateful. Producing another pouch from behind his belt that was full of the same red leaves he had given Aidwain, he proferred it to Silruth. "These are very poisonous. You may wish to rub them on your arrow tips."

It seemed to Osric that Silruth also was reluctant to take the poison leaves. It was understandable that Elves, or anyone for that matter, would not want to use poisoned arrows. They were a nasty weapon. But under these circumstances, facing trolls and who-knows-how-many-orcs with most members of their party injured in some way, it might be their only chance. A terrible thought, that.

[Esgallhugwen]

As they neared Weathertop a harsh din was raised of screams, clashing metal and the sound of ominous thudding that could only mean one thing.

"Trolls" Silrûth uttered harshley under her breath, she drove her horse hard over the hill, bow aimed and ready for whatever scene there was to behold. Her closest target was a Troll, his large scaly form looming over Aidwain.

With bowstring taught she let the arrow fly, a glimmering golden streak drove into the flesh of the Troll's arm and he went lumbering off in pain and confusion. A hail of arrows was sent after them, as fast as her skill could allow.

~*~*~*~*~*

She sat beside Aidwain on the hill, having grudgingly taken the poison leaves, she disliked using such devices to gain an upper hand in battle, but Trolls she despised even more. The leaves had a light fragrance when she rubbed them on her golden arrows, being careful not to get the toxic substance on her hands, she crushed them between a rock and the sharp metal edges.

Silrûth's face was a stern display of compassion, concentration and rage and for all her beauty and frail seeming features she was certainly more than able to seriously opppose her enemies. She placed her arrows carefully back into her quiver.

"And what are we to do now, now that we know what was behind these attacks as some of us may have feared. Many of us are wounded, shall we return back to Bree? Gather supplies, then begin the journey to Gondor where we report to King Elessar, or do we wait and find out more about these assailents?" Her tone was gentle, but her eyes may have betrayed her had they not been downcast tending to Aidwain's injured ankle.

She was sorely angry at what the Trolls and orcs had done to her companions, especially Aidwain who she knew the best.

[rutslegolas]

As Aidwain and Osric returned ,Aidwain went an sat beside Silruth while Osric went to look after Veryadan ,Silruth and Aidwain both took the poisoned leaves though reluctantly and rubbed them on each of their arrows .

"And what are we to do now, now that we know what was behind these attacks as some of us may have feared. Many of us are wounded, shall we return back to Bree? Gather supplies, then begin the journey to Gondor where we report to King Elessar, or do we wait and find out more about these assailents?" ,Silruth asked .

"I know not whether we proceed to Gondor or Bree ,that matter rests in Tarondo's hand ,but if I were asked I would say we go back to Rivendell ,it is the shortest route from Amun Sul. ",replied " Ah now it feels much better ,Thank You ",he said patting his broken ankle.

"By the way what were you doing fighting those trolls in single combat ,and where did you get that sword ?",Silruth asked with mild astonishment.
"Ah this I bought this from a armourer at Bree,it proved handy did'nt it ?,besides Lunien could not have taken two trolls at the same time ."

In the meanwhile Tarondo and Lunien came towards them .....

[Saurreg]

Loudewater got up slowly eyeing the grotesque orc's had that laid a few feet from him, it yellow glassy eyes staring defiantly at him. A shudder went down the farmer's spine. That could have easily been his fate.

Loudewater approached the ranger who had saved his life warily. The huge man's shoulders were rising up and down with each ragged breath after his hard fought fight with the last great orc. Another younger looking man stood not far from the first and from the looks of it, he too had been fighting hard. Loudewater stepped closer gingerly before stopping two arm's length away from his saviour.

"Erm... " he began hesitantly , "You, you saved my life back there mister. I guess that puts me in your debt. Sir."

Not sure what to do next, the farmer introduced himself,

"I am Andas, Andas Loudewater. Very pleased to meet your acquaintance sir."

From the edge of his eyes, Loudewater could see two figures coming into view. They were the fair folks he had seen back at the tavern - the shorter female and the very tall male.

Loudewater wondered what their intentions were...

[Nuranar]

Tarondo looked bleakly around the hilltop in the weak light of a clouded afternoon. Orc bodies were scattered all about. Only their slight movements distinguished his companions from the slain, as they sat grim and silent. This place is far too exposed, he thought. He had been talking to the groups, about their prior investigations as well as about the battle. Apparently there had been one attack, then another in support of the first. We need to move off. He felt a sudden chill. It is far cooler up here than at the Whittleworth Farm - he shoved the ghastly memory away with an effort.

His eyes searched, found his sister, leaning against a stone, weary eyes gazing into the distance. Her bow was cradled in her good arm, while her left hung in a sling. "Luinien," he said, joining her. "Did you see someplace to camp out there, close by?" He pointed out to the east.

She thought a moment, eyes narrowed as she called up the memories. "Yes, I noticed a nest of boulders just beyond the foot of the hill. It is isolated and hard to approach without being seen."

Tarondo nodded approvingly. "That is good. Come on," he called, louder. "Time to leave before we are attacked again. You come too, Loudewater," he said to the erstwhile farmer. As the companions stirred with the sluggish movements of tiredness, he helped Luinien to her feet. "How is your shoulder?"

She smiled wanly. "It hurts, but I can feel my arm now. I'm not going to keep it in the sling much longer or it will get too stiff."

"How close did that club come?" His eyes were very intent. She had not told him much.

Luinien met his gaze for an instant. "Close," she said with an arch look, and turned away to join Silrûth. The pair made a piquant contrast: one strong and fair, the other lithe and dark.

--------------------------------------

Veryadan's wounds were by far the most serious. They secured him with the uptmost care onto Luinien's mount, and the sure-footed mare carried him gently down the hill to their new position. Now the Ranger lay unmoving, wrapped in blankets, while Menecar built a fire to heat water. The horses of Veryadan, Osric, and Aidwain had bolted when the trolls first attacked, but the rest of their mounts were still safe.

"We need to get Veryadan to shelter," Tarondo said. "He needs healing and care that we cannot give in the wild. Bree is the closest, but we need to know where our enemies are before we try to take him there."

"If we make a run for it we may get through," Osric volunteered, but Tarondo shook his head.

"We're not going to risk his life on that possibility. Don't be fooled, Osric. They only surprised us because they were watching us, and they are most certainly watching us now. If we left now they would know it. And if they ambushed us along the road, Veryadan would have no chance."

"I agree," Menecar said. A few others murmured in assent.

Aidwain spoke up, "Bree is not the only place to find shelter, and for healing, where is better than Rivendell?"

Thoronmir shook his head. "Much too far," he said.

Tarondo held up his hand. "Let us discover our enemies before we decide our route. Silrûth, would you please scout the road behind us?" The Elf rose without a word. Luinien looked meaningly at Tarondo and picked up her bow, but he shot her a stern glance and continued. "Menecar, take the road to the west, if you would. I want to know if there are any orcs or trolls within a mile of either road." The Ranger nodded, and the pair faded into the dim late-afternoon haze.

Thoronmir and Osric began attending to Veryadan, cleaning his wound with the hot water. Aidwain nursed his ankle and kept an eye on Loudewater. Tarondo turned to his sister and found a decided glare fixed on him. Refusing to rise to the bait, he decided not to be the first to open the subject.

She could not wait very long. "Why wouldn't you let me go on scout?" she said in a fierce, low voice. "I'm quieter than Menecar, and I know the land better. Besides" -

"Besides, you're hurt," he interrupted. Continuing over her protest, "I know that you're very slightly wounded, certainly no more than Menecar. And a scout shouldn't need to fight. But that is no assurance that you wouldn't have to. We know there's an enemy out there." Luinien pursed her lips sulkily, but the resentment was fading out of her face.

"Most importantly, since Veryadan is hurt I need to discuss the situation with you. I have considered the reports, but I would like to hear your thoughts."

"It seems clear that orcs and trolls are behind what has been happening," she started at once, then thought for a bit. "I would say the trolls were the primary force in the violence," she resume, more slowly. "The crude brutality we saw is more their characteristic than the orcs'. But although they could carry out such acts on their own, I doubt they would have the persistence for a lengthy campaign. Even less do they have the intelligence to conceal their presence, even if they thought of it." She paused again. "Since it seems clear that the trolls are working with the orcs, I would guess that the planning and intelligence belong to the orcs."

Tarondo had been watching her with a gratified smile. "That is exactly what I concluded," he said. Luinien looked at him, startled, then blushed with pleasure. "But why would the orcs be organizing the trolls in the first place?"

"Love of destruction?" she hazarded.

Her brother shook his head, dissatisfied. "They would do such a thing once, themselves, on a whim; or perhaps to avenge a loss or a grudge. But an entire campaign? There must be a more unifying motive behind it."

"Perhaps someone is getting a big head."

"Perhaps." Tarondo mused. Unbidden his mind fled back to the Whittleworth's, but this time he remembered something. Abruptly he turned to his sister. "Silrûth went inside that farmhouse, and she found a small hiding place in there that was empty. What could have been in there?"

"Trolls like valuable things... like gold... and then they cache it..."

"And what one hides, another can find." Tarondo nodded. The pieces were falling into place.

His eyes fell upon Andas Loudewater, sitting at the far side of the circle. Instead of being terror-striken, he now looked sheepish and uncertain. He had been looking at Tarondo, but looked away quickly when the Elf's gaze met his. Tarondo remembered him from the Prancing Pony, and he had talked to Thoronmir.

"Loudewater." The man rose reluctantly at the command in the other's voice. He walked across to Tarondo and stood uneasily, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I..."

"Look at me."

Loudewater's eyes ventured back to him timidly. "I, um, I heard you came to do something about the killing 'round here. And, uh, I kinda thought I could help. So I followed you to Weathertop. On Killer." He gestured vaguely at the little brown mule without looking away.

Tarondo looked intently at him. He saw apprehension in the man's eyes, embarrassment and a little fear. But more than that, there was a genuine concern that supported his halting words. And not a vestige of concealment. He glanced at Luinien.

Luinien nodded slightly, and Tarondo turned back to the farmer. "Well, Andas, it seems that you will be staying with us regardless. With those orcs and trolls out there, I would estimate your chances on your own to be nil." He smiled slightly to take the menace out of his words.

The farmer stammered out his thanks and sat down hesitantly when Tarondo gestured. Soon, his shyness forgotten, he was telling the Elf all about Helga and his life back in Bree-land. Luinien excused herself to help with a meal, listening all the while.

[Envinyatar]

Esgallhugwen's post - Silrûth

The tall Elf stood smoothly without a word at Tarondo's command to scout the road that lay behind them. She took her horse quietly by the reins and led her down the east slope of the hill.

Falma's hooves treaded surprisingly soft against the earth as if she knew their need of stealth. Making their way down the path Silrûth strained her ears for any slight sound that could mean the enemy.

The horse stopped abrubtly ears flattened against her head. Knowing what it meant Silrûth dismounted, "now I don't want you running off" she tapped her finger on Falma's soft muzzle, the mare perked up her ears before plastering them back to her head.

Silrûth crept along warily, and with her skills focused on guile and swift movements she was unaware of how long it took her to reach the orc camp. A small mound of boulders and shrubs was close by and she used it to her advantage.

I musn't get too close in case they pick up my scent, but luck was with her the wind was blowing into her face away from the camp. Tentatively and carefully she peered from around the corner of a boulder.

There they were, laughing and hacking up a storm in their vile tongue, the Elf could not help but sneer in disgust, a voice spoke out in her head.

Do not over stay your welcome, they are moving can you not see it?

It was true they were beginning to stir and grunt and with that last thought Silrûth hastily made her way back to her mount. Taking up the reins, she nudged her horse lightly in the flanks with heels.