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

[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.

[Folwren]

Kwell worked with a will, when it came to sloshing buckets of water around and over the pit opening. He had obeyed Lindir and not killed any of the drunken orcs, even if he had wanted to, but to be able to make them even more uncomfortable than before was wonderful to his mind. He nearly laughed as the water and mud splashed and dripped down into the pit and they sent up curses and horrible imprecations. They did not cause any fear to start up in him, as they used to. Their threats were empty. Their hands were bound and had no whips clutched in them.

But soon, Lindir said it was wet enough, and they must retreat and take cover until the other, sober orcs came in. The rain was quickening. The mud was thick, slippery, and as ready as they could make it. They retreated and gathered stones and sticks before finding a hiding place.

They waited. Silently. Kwell wondered again and again if this would actually work. It was risky - and all for the sake of not killing the orcs. He didn’t understand why they just could be shot. Why bother throwing them down into the pit with the others? Were there not enough orcs to get information out of? He couldn’t comprehend Lindir’s thinking...

After a long while of silence, intermixed with the steady patter of the rain, Kwell saw dark figures moving in closer. Kwell shifted his weight and picked up two rocks. They were over the pit now...leaning down to reach the ones inside...

The first rocks were thrown. Kwell stood up and hurled first one and then the other with all his might. He bent again to get more and then, as he continued to throw, those with swords and other, longer weapons charged. Kwell continued to hurl as many rocks as he could, over his friend’s heads and hopefully at the three orcs, but as the humans got closer, he ceased his bombardment, for fear of striking someone in his side.

[Child of the 7th Age]

One minute Makdush had been laying prone at the mouth of the pit, letting out the rope inch-by-inch to those who waited impatiently at the bottom. The next minute they had fallen under a steady barrage of rocks and arrows. Struggling to rise, Makdush saw Gwerr go down just to his left. He could not be sure whether his companion had simply slipped and fallen in the muddy morass or actually been struck by an arrow. One second later Makdush watched as Ishkur followed Gwerr into the depths of the pit, apparently struck in the thigh by a two large rocks that had come hurtling in their direction.

Determined not to repeat his companions' mistakes, Makdush let out a cry and lumbered to his feet, searching for sound footing and lunging for the sword still strapped at his waist. But his efforts had come far too late. There was no time to react. Within a second four figures had run forward: three men and an elf. It was the elf who reached out and ripped the sword from his hand. One of the others retrieved the dangling rope and began to wind it around his body and legs, knotting it tightly in many places. Makdush tried to kick and scream but there were too many for him to get away. Out of the corner of one eye, he saw a man jerk a dagger from its sheath and rear back, aiming towards his neck. He expected the downward thrust to come swift and fatal. Instead, the elf barked, and the man snatched back the blade, complaining under his breath but complying with the order. A second later and he too had joined his companions in the pit.

"Ishkur, Gwerr?" he cried out in frustration, cursing the moment they had decided to try and rescue their companions.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Both Ishkur and Gwerr lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the pit, too groggy to answer or to try and loosen the bonds of the other orcs. Soon after Makdush was hurled into the cell, the wooden grate was again thrown open. This time, the tall Elf and two of his companions lowered themselves down on ropes, binding Ishkur and Gwerr with tight leather straps and rope. The uruk and the two orcs were thrown against the cave wall and their leather straps secured to metal rings. Finally, the three jailors were again pulled up to the surface. The pit was silent and black, but no darker than the feeling of rage and frustration that assaulted Ishkur's mind.

By this time, he was awake and miserable. Ishkur wished he had never suggested helping anyone. He should have listened to Gwerr. Next time, if there was a next time, he must be more careful. He called out to Makdush and Gwerr and to anyone else in the pit who was awake, "I hate elves. Those monstors must each have ten pairs of eyes and ears. This one knew we were coming. He knew it before we even got to the pit. His men were sitting up waiting for us." Ishkur kicked at the wall in frustration and felt the leather strap pull tight against his side and prevent him from moving any further.

There was another reason why Ishkur was angry but he wasn't going to tell anyone. He didn't know how or when but he had seen that pushy elf before. He was sure of it. Probably they had fought on some distant battlefield, but he couldn't remember anything more. He covered his feeling of uneasiness by snarling at the others, "If they drag us out of here to get us to talk, I'll say nothing. At least nothing important. I'll hang my head and play along with their game. But I won't believe anything they say or promise. They're all liars. And at the last minute, when I have a chance, I'll make them pay. If I go down, some of them are going with me." There were growls of agreement from every corner of the pit.

Ishkur slumped against the hard stone rock. Strangely enough, what he thought about were the women and young ones who were still loose on the outside. Maybe they'll get away, he reflected. Yeah, sure....and maybe they'll sprout wings and turn into balrogs. That utterly ridiculous suggestion of women sticking out their noises to help the men made him grimace. It would never happen. Women were useless. They couldn't fight and had no sense of standing beside a buddy. Yet Ishkur still regretted the loss of his hunting lodge and the women lined up to wait on him. When he finally slept, there were no dreams, only an empty black hole.

[Tevildo]

Azhar had followed Athwen's instructions and spent the remainder of the evening preparing the wagons to depart the next morning. Everyone who could stand on their feet had helped gather and pack away the supplies that needed to be transported the next day. They had lined the back of the wagon with soft blankets, assembled packets with flasks of water and food, and made sure that all the healer's supplies were readily available for the trip.

The journey was not a long one, and those who were most seriously injured would be accomodated in the back of the wagon. But the going would still be slow since so many bore minor wounds and would need to stop for frequent rests. The plan was to load the wagons immediately, have everyone get a full night's sleep, and set out the next morning very early. If there were no complications on the road, they should arrive at the new camp by mid-day.

Despite the hard work, many took time to share the latest news. The revelation that orcs had been discovered and were being held in the new camp spread like wildfire. Azhar heard both muttered threats and expressions of dismay that left her feeling uncomfortable. Even those who were injured had retrieved their weapons or gone searching for stones to take along on the trip if a fight developed. While many were frightened to hear what had happened, some seemed almost eager to get into a fight once they reached their destination. Almost no one could understand why Lindir had not given the order to slay the sleeping orcs. Dorran had been outspoken in his dislike of the situation but he was not the only one. As the packing finished and the camp settled down for the night, Azhar lay awake in her blankets unable to sleep as she worried about what would happen after they reached the camp.

[Child of the 7th Age]

At last the camp lay quiet. The orcs were secure within the pit, and, since Lindir required less sleep than the others, he had volunteered to take the remainder of that night's watch. Moreover, he was having trouble sleeping and wanted time to reflect on the strange happenings of the day and what should be done after the rest of their party arrived. That event should occur by mid-afternoon. He was keenly aware that, even within his own small group, several of the former slaves thought him addled or soft for not running the orcs through as they slept, since there was bound to be trouble once they were freed.

Perhaps these men were right, the elf regretfully mused, but he could not bring himself to slay someone who lay in a drunken stupor. Lindir could agree that Orcs were vile, dispicable creatures, yet he did not know what to do. If he set them loose on the plain, they could later reappear and make him regret his decision. But was it right to execute an orc simply because he belonged to a particular race that had done great injury in the past and presumably might do so in the future? An uncomfortable memory from his own boyhood flitted through his mind, which he hastily pushed aside. In any case, he objected, the decision was not his to make. He could suggest or try to persuade, but the group would ultimately determine the fate of the prisoners.

A stirring in the bushes caused the elf to stare out into the darkness. His fingers tightened about the hilt of his knife as he leapt up for a closer look. There was a second rustling, and the bushes parted to reveal a familiar face. "Aiwendil? Is that you?" Without waiting for a response the elf darted forward to embrace his friend. His words came spilling out. "Where were you? I could not sense your presence or your thoughts since you left the battle." He added in a chiding tone, "You should have told me you were safe."

The old man shook his head and struggled to explain, "Lindir, I am sorry, truly sorry, but I had no choice. I found myself in a strange predicament. The slightest mistep could have cost me my life. And not only my life, for I knew I must return to give a warning to you. So I kept my thoughts close for fear that others might overhear."

"Overhear? What kind of threat lurks on the plains that could read the mind of an istar?"

Aiwendil was silent for a moment before responding in a cryptic tone. "I have learned some things since my departure that may affect our fortunes. I do not know all with certainty. Many questions remain, but I heard enough to let me guess what must have transpired in Mordor over the past few years and what may yet befall us in coming days. It does not make me easy, and I will share all in good time. But first you must tell me what has happened here.....how we fared in the final minutes of the fight and who is with you in this place. How are our friends who still wait in the old camp? And Rôg? Can you tell me of his fate? For I have been troubled with disturbing dreams and strange forebodings whose meaning is unclear."

Although Lindir wondered what Aiwendil had glimpsed on the plains of Mordor, he did not press for an immediate answer. Instead, he did as the old man requested, sharing what news he could and adding the details about their strange encounter with the orcs. Aiwendil seemed as baffled over the latter episode as Lindir had been. The istar could not offer any explanation for the behavior of the orcs or understand why such a small party would be travelling on its own. Nor did he have any idea how they should handle the prisoners.

Finally, once Lindir had finished with all his news, he pressed Aiwendil to describe what he had seen, "Could these orcs possibly be connected with the threat you saw on the plains? If so, we would be better off slaying them and, by doing so, prevent news from reaching the others."

Aiwendil shook his head, "Anything is possible. But I do not think so. What I saw on the plain had nothing to do with orcs. Indeed, I did not see a single orc. The threat seems of a different type. Do you remember in the last battle of the War of the Ring how the forces of the olog-hai were scattered to the winds? Those great giant creatures, so full of cunning, were among the worst of Sauron's monstors. So mighty were they in battle that none saw them fall on the plains of Mordor. In fact, some doubted that they could even be slain. But with the destruction of the Ring and the demise of its master, these stone creatures fled the field of war as if they had lost their minds, and have not been seen since that day. That is....none have seen them until two days ago when I beheld a gathering of the olog-hai just north of here. I saw and could not believe so I stayed in their camp to learn more...."

"Olog-hai?" Lindir interrupted. "But is that possible? Most have said that these creature cannot act unless they are directed by a mind greater than theirs. Once Sauron died, they disappeared into the hills."

"So I thought as well. But this much I can tell you. They travel north to the same mountains and foothills where we are heading. They intend to gather their forces there. Now there are only twenty or so, but many more are expected with the slow turning of the seasons. What I do not know and can not guess is whether another mind lies in back of their actions, or they have come up with this plot on their own."

"But what is their intention? For what purpose do these olog-hai gather?"

"I can not say with certainty. But I heard the name of Elessar cursed many times, and all in the camp spoke of the need to head west to attack once they establish control over Mordor. Exactly what their plan is and when it will be put in operation, I do not know. Even so, I am sure of two things. It will never be safe to settle on the Plateau of Gorgoroth until these creatures be gone from there. We are doomed to fail as long as they live. And the longer they live and plot, the greater the threat is to Gondor and to all the free peoples of Middle-earth."

"But we are too few, too few to face such a threat," Lindir countered. "No rag tag band of travellers can hope to defeat a threat such as this." The elf's voice was solemn.

"Yes, that has occurred to me as well. Perhaps we should just stay here and send messengers back to Minas Tirith to ask for an army to help us clear the way. But there is also danger in waiting too long. It will be many months before a request can arrive at court and a convoy of soldiers be sent into Mordor. Who knows what damage the olog-hai can do in that time? Now they are twenty...by next spring their numbers may swell to a hundred or more. That is the danger of waiting."

"We need allies then....immediate allies," observed Lindir with a shake of his head. "Preferably troops with battle experience. But where do you propose to get such reinforcements within the next month?"

Aiwendil grimaced, "That is what I hoped you would be able to tell me. So shall I pass on this news tomorrow when we are gathered to judge the orcs, or wait until another day when tempers are cooler?"

"To be truthful, I don't know. Let us wait till tomorrow and see how things go. We may need to remind the others of the need to keep a cool head and not to split into many factions. One more thing, though, before we turn in. Aiwendil, earlier you spoke of someone overhearing your thoughts. Why did you say this? The olog-hai do not have that ability."

"I'm not sure. Only at moments I could have sworn that there was a mind, a great mind, pressing against my own, almost willing me into submission. That is when I decided to lay hidden and not draw attention to myself even by a stray thought. No, I find it hard to believe that any olog-hai could do that. I am not sure. Perhaps it was only my imagination. Sitting in the middle of a camp of gigantic stone creatures is not good for the nerves. But still, if it is possible that there is a greater force directing these olog-hai, then that force might have the gift of reading thoughts as well as other magical abilities."

"But who could do this?" Lindir prodded.

"I do not know, and you can probably make a guess as good as mine.... There are a few of Sauron's friends who were never accounted for."

"The Mouth of Sauron?" Lindir asked in a flat, dead voice.

"Yes, or perhaps one of the two istari who disappeared in the East and were never heard from again. I hope this is not so for then we would face an even greater fight. Let's handle one problem at a time. Let's figure out how to deal with this handful of orcs before we go on to other things." With that, the Lindir and Aiwendil parted. Lindir stayed to guard the pit, while Aiwendil found a spot to turn in for the few short hours that remained before sunrise.