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

[Undómë]

‘Stupid men!’

Mazhg spit in the dust as if to clear the word ‘men’ from her mouth. It was an inclusive comment taking in both Men and men. This was not how it was supposed to have gone. Once the Orc males had been freed by the Men they should have gotten away as quickly as their big feet could carry them. Far away from the stinking Men and their problems.

‘Got plenty our own problems,’ she muttered as her eyes followed the unfolding events a little ways away from her. ‘Not good be taking on theirs, too.’

‘But Mazhg...’ Zagra nudged her sister on the shoulder, moving close beside her. She peered through the thin branches of the scraggly bush they had crept behind when the commotion had started and their plans gone awry. ‘Not just Men’s problems. Girl there, too. Ours.’ Her thin finger pointed to where the rescued children had been drawn up, followed now by a little man. She raised her chin peering intently at the rim of the hole. ‘Where he is?’ she asked, furrowing her brow. ‘That Gwerr.’

‘Got his own hide stuck down that hole now I’m thinking.’ With a snort, Mazhg spit emphatically once again. ‘Stupid men!’

[Durelin]

Khamir

The women, children, and wounded were not in danger from orcs – there was no ambush, there was just…water! Khamir was trying to find the best way to lower himself down into the pit, or at least a point where the fall seemed shortest, when a rope was thrown next to him and lowered down toward the rising water. Before he could take a step toward the rope, reaching out with his one arm, an orc appeared between him and the rope. His hand brushed against the orc’s arm before it lowered itself, grabbing onto the rope.

Khamir almost reached for the knife at his belt, but another reflex overcame that instinct, and he grasped the rope above where the orc held it, bracing himself at the edge of the pit along with several others. The Southron felt strangely calm as he watched the orc retrieve Carl and the children, including a young orc, one or two at a time. He obeyed every one of the orc’s commands with the others who helped hold the rope behind him. He was empty. He felt tired, though his grip never lessened. The orc had two arms, two hands to grab the trapped children and hobbit. He would not have been of as much help, not with one. It was common sense. He was doing what he could.

Finally it seemed that the orc was alone in the pit, and for a moment or two Khamir simply watched the water rise around the creature. It stood, as well as it could, the water quickly approaching its shoulders, and seemed to avoid looking at those above the pit. Khamir watched, as if simply curious. They could just let it drown here, and be rid of one of them. It was a shame that they had moved the orcs out of the pit to kill them, wasn’t it?

“Grab the rope!” he heard a familiar voice shout from behind him. It was Beloan. “Give him a bit more; get it to him!” Khamir obeyed.

“We’ll pull you up!” came another voice – Adnan’s.

Adnan recognized the stubborn pride in the orc, and knew he needed telling.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Vrór

Vrór had done his best to help Athwen and the others from the start, though he had felt simply in the way until someone thought to try lowering a blanket that Carl and the children could grab onto. But it was not long enough and the water was rushing in fast and fiercely, quickly making it nearly impossible for those trapped to maintain any sort of footing.

The Dwarf was very startled by the sudden presence of two orcs. He realized with some surprise that the orcs had been held captive in the pit. Why had they been taken out? And what…? Vrór felt fear rise in his chest, but the orcs charged up to the pit not with fists bared – one carried a rope.

Determined to be of use, Vrór’s grip remained tight and he worked diligently with the others to catch the rescued and pull them out to safety. When the others slackened their hold on the blanket as it seemed the consensus was that all those trapped were out of the pit, Vrór went to see to Carl, finding another blanket to bring to the hobbit. Of course someone had already seen to that, but he offered the blanket to Carl and the poor girl sitting next to him.

“You alright, Carl? By Durin’s beard, what happened?” Vrór was pretty sure he knew what had happened, and he felt responsible for letting it. He should have checked on the soundness of the plug hours ago, but no – he had still been lazing around in his blankets. He was not that weak, that he could not at least do a simple inspection! But as the rush of urgency wore off, the Dwarf plopped down by the hobbit and breathed heavily, his limbs aching and his head clouded.

[piosenniel]

The crisis seemed well in hand. At any rate Rôg felt he would most likely be nothing but in the way. He skirted the edges of area looking for a place to keep an eye on things and remain inobtrusive.

Ah! What’s this?

Rôg came up softly behind the two Orcs and hunkered down on his soles just a little way behind them. ‘Stupid men!’ he heard the one say, the same one who had seemed in charge beforehand. From what he followed of their harsh and grating talk, he understood that they were unhappy with how events had unfolded, and especially with how ‘the men’ had handled things.

He frowned, wondering at the disparaging use of the word ‘men’ by the one young male. Not a comment it seemed on the actions of the Men, but more likely on those of their own Orc group. Odd! And then there was the way in which the two young males crouched down close to each other, in a familiar way. Brothers? Is that what they were?

‘No!’ The explanation hit him suddenly. These two were female orcs!

‘Ladies?’ he ventured.....

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Carl

What happened?” Carl echoed to himself as he took the dry blanket the dwarf offered. With a painful twist, he reached around to replace the soaked blanket Ina still held wrapped about her narrow shoulders while the dwarf settled himself beside the two of them. The hobbit's mind still reeled. Turning back to face Vrór again it was with bleary eyes that Carl searched the familiar red-whiskered face, weighing just how detailed an answer to the question his friend was willing to hear. Deciding that the dwarf might understand his concerns better than most, he confided in a horse whisper, “I have come up with quite a few fine technical sounding reasons for this mess, and have spouted them off to Dorran too. Could have been a cloud burst over Ephel Duath you know, or some foul blockage downstream that didn’t let the other underground chamber drain properly, that sort of thing. But the more I think on it, and I've had plenty of time for that, the bare fact of the matter is I was a good site more worried about keeping the orcs in that pit, than keeping the water out of it. It was nothin’ but pure idiocy on my part. Not proud of it either! Not now. Never thought these young ones would be at risk, never in a million years!” He scooped up Ina’s small hand in his, as if he might lose the waif yet. Then catching sight of Dorran leading his wife away from the edge of the pit, he lapsed into silence, his shoulders sagging.

Vrór was silent for a moment too, and whatever the dwarf’s thoughts were regarding his confession, the hobbit could only wonder. And so Carl sat there quite miserable in his self-reproach, dreading and yet resigned to weather the scorn of his friend. Finally he heard the dwarf's voice rumble beside him, “If it had occurred just last night, I’m certain many would have declared the flood providential; a quick solution to a difficult dilemma.” The hobbit looked up and what he saw surprised him. It was not Vrór but Ina who frowned at him. She had been listening to the conversation much in the same way as she had the opinions that had aired around camp all morning. And though she might not understand all of it, the general feeling was unmistakably clear.

Letting go of Carl’s hand the little girl stood up and left them to search for Gwella in the crowd. Once she had been found, Ina took the blanket from her own shoulders and placed it gently around the young orc's, like a mantle. The little girl smiled self-consciously before she grabbed the orc's rough arm, patting it awkwardly. Well she remembered Gwella's crucial help moving the rock that would have caused her to drown, and she would never forget it. Carl bristled slightly when he saw Ina's display of trust, thinking it unwise to say the least, though he dimly remembered Gwella as somewhat helpful-natured, for an orc, though highly patronizing. Even then, would she be as mild now that she was free and among her own kind? The hobbit tried to spring to his feet to bring Ina back, but he never made it. The dull pain that had radiated through his skull became sharp with the sudden movement, and quickly saw to it that Carl was seated again, his head in his cradled in his hands.

“That is a sound blow you've had” Vrór announced after a quick search through the hobbit's mousey curls. “You've grown a knob on your head.”

“Aye, I have no doubt I'll live in spite of it! But for the life of me I can't reckon how it came to be there," Carl said, gingerly confirming the dwarf's observation with calloused fingers. "Now you don't suppose that orc had anything to do with it?” he whispered nodding toward Gwella, as Ina rapidly returned with the orc in tow. Vrór cleared his throat, but had little time to answer him for Ina had stopped in front of the two. She introduced Vrór to the orc announcing with the fierce sincerity of a young child, that Gwella was her best friend in all the world, and had kept her from drowning.”

Carl's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Had the lass been shown so little kindness that she would mistake Gwella’s actions for caring? Who knew what that creature’s motives were. The orc stood warily before him, and uttered a noise that to Carl’s ear sounded mid-way between a bird call and a low growl. Ina piped up whirring herself. “Oh yes, Gwerr too!” she said pointing to yet another orc, this one at the edge of the pit. "He kept me from drowning, and Mister Carl too."

As the hobbit tried to digest what Ina meant by this last bit of information, Vrór rose unsteadily to his feet and bowing politely to the young orc, thanked her for her help. But still unconvinced, Carl looked dubiously at the little girl’s new friend, while asking Ina if she noticed just how he had been hurt while underground.

As the hobbit tried to digest what Ina meant by this last bit of mystifying information, Vrór rose unsteadily to his feet and bowing politely to the young orc, thanked her for her help. But still unconvinced, Carl looked dubiously at the little girl’s new friend, while asking Ina if she noticed just how he had been hurt while underground.

"Don't you remember?” Ina returned, amazed.

This wasn't the response he had hoped for. With an offended air, for he felt rather ridiculous, the hobbit admitted stiffly that he in fact, did not recall.

Gwella's eyes narrowed at this. Not put off by the hobbit’s insinuations, she abruptly cut in to fill the gaps for him, “When the water burst out, you made grab for scrawny boy, and water smacked you hard against the wall.” The young orc clapped her hands together to demonstrate.

“Ah…the rock wall…” the hobbit muttered, reaching back to rest a hand on his head. “Well, that would make sense, I suppose.”

“Then Gwerr came down and pulled us all out,” Ina quickly added.

There it was again! “An orc saved us?” Carl echoed incredulously, looking at the dwarf who affirmed it.

“It was an orc who handed you up to where we could reach you, Carl. It seems he goes by the name of Gwerr. “

“So we all were saved by an orc?” Carl repeated again, not easily coming to terms with the outlandish notion that he owed his life to the devilish looking brute.

Ina stayed just long enough to nod. Then she took up the orc’s hand once more, and was off to find something to eat, showing Gwella her other friends along the way. Vrór and Carl silently watched them weaving among the staring people.

“But why?” the hobbit finally murmured.

“Hate and mistrust have been bywords for many here who know orcs better then I, but in Ina it appears that tide is turning,” the dwarf observed. “I’m as confused about it as you are Carl, though I saw it with my own eyes. Perhaps the flooding was providential after all.”

“Aye, and if Gwella saved the girl’s life, I'd say by the look of it, Ina's bound and determined to return the favor!” Carl replied. “I only hope no harm comes from it ...or this strange friendship!”

[Undómë]

Mazhg wanted simply to ignore the intrusive voice. She hunkered down even further and focused her attention on the rescue scene, willing it all to be over and they on their way. It was hard to ignore the fellow, however, especially with the nudge in her side from her sister’s elbow drawing it all the more to her attention. A sharp jab . . . and what was that sound? She turned her head, glaring at Zagra. ‘Sha!! What is wrong with you?!’

Zagra’s mouth was pulled up in a wide bow, and she’d raised her hands in an effort to cover it. The little fool was giggling!

‘He said ladies! Us . . . lady you, lady me!’ Zagra glanced quickly toward Rôg and back as quick again at her sister. ‘You know, Mazhg, like that tall lady . . . worked in the fields when we were little-little.’

Mazhg frowned, furrowing her brow at the elusive memory.

‘Her eyes were that ashy color . . . and hair like our color but long. Now you know, Mazhg?’ Zagra sang, in a high raspy voice, some nearly unrecognizable song. She leaned up against her sister, wrapping her arms about herself. ‘She used to smile at me ‘n’ you . . . and sometimes she would sing that little song to us . . . til she went away . . .’

'til she went away . . .

Mazhg had not the heart to tell her sister the lady had most likely been killed. ‘Yeah, I know who you talking about now,’ she said nodding her head. Mazhg put her arm about her sister’s shoulders and drew her close. Zagra hummed bits and pieces of the song, a happy look on her face.

Shifting her position a little, Mazhg looked toward Rôg, her brow raised in question. ‘You, man! What you want with us . . . ladies?’

[piosenniel]

‘Nothing, really,’ Rôg said, sitting fully down, cross-legged, on the sparsely grassed dirt. He leaned forward, elbows on knees; his chin resting on the palm of his left hand. ‘Just to talk, I suppose.’

The fingers of his right hand tapped out a rhythm on a small patch of grass and weeds. ‘You know,’ he went on, humming a little to his fingers’ rhythm. ‘I know that song you’re singing.....Zagra, isn’t it?’ He could almost recall the words, he thought. They were just on the tip of his tongue.

‘Where did you learn it? Do you remember what it’s about?’

[Undómë]

What are you doing?’ Mazhg hissed as reached up to grab at her sister’s wrist. She was not quick enough. Zagra had unfolded herself from where she sat on the ground and started across the small space between her and the odd man. The odd man who somehow knew the song the Lady had sung for her and Mazhg when they were little.

‘Yes, yes, that how it goes,’ she coaxed him. ‘Know words?’ she asked sitting down cross-legged close enough to reach out and touch his leg lightly.

Mazhg crept closer to the pair, amazed at the boldness of her sister. What did Zagra see in this strange fellow that she would trust him even a little?

Ah Bare eth thar en nuu ee I arr...

Zagra’s voice rasped out the mis-shapen sounds, her brow furrowed in concentration as she sang them. ‘The Lady say them about a pretty-pretty Lady, live far away, cross great water.’

She watched Rôg’s face for some glimmer of recognition. ‘You ‘member now?’

From the waistband of her raggedy breeches she fetched out a small object and leaning forward she held it out to him on the palm of her hand. It was of some sort of metal, quite tarnished and encrusted with much dirt. Through the layers of grime, though, some small stone set in it glittered hazily in the light.

‘This was for her hair...the Lady’s. Gave to us,’ Zagra offered shyly, nodding toward her sister. Mazhg’s face softened a little, the old memory rising of one small tender moment in the midst of their harsh lot.