Day 48 Sunday To Moria: South of Lórien.
Day 49 Monday To Moria: The foothills of the Misty Mountains.
Day 50 Tuesday To Moria: In the Misty Mountains.
Day 51 Wednesday To Moria: In the Misty Mountains.
Day 52 Thursday Moria.
Day 53 Friday Moria.
Day 54 Saturday Moria: To the West Gate.
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"Ahead of here the trail goes through a cleft in some rocks. We are afraid Orcs may have set an ambush there for you."
"Orcs?" asked Aldorn. "It's the middle of the day. Orcs come out only at night."
"Not Uruks. They can fight in the day as well as the night. Ordinary Orcs can, too, but they do not like it." And the Elf took his leave of the party.
Not ten minutes later they came to the cleft. Rocks had been strewn about on the road to prevent a quick passage. Forewarned as they were by the Elf, they did not enter. Instead they all sat down and enjoyed a leisurely meal, and sang songs about Elbereth, loud enough for the uncomfortable Orcs to hear!
The meal over, the party made ready to ambush the ambush. Pendergast, casting a nature's awareness spell, reported six orcs on the left, five on the right. He believed one of the six on the left was an Uruk. Fëalókë, Aldorn, and Lornath mounted their horses.
"Let's see if we can get the leader's attention," mumttered Gavrad, getting out his amulet. He called up a poisonous snake and placed it at the Uruk's location as best Pendergast could describe it. Looking through the snake's eyes, Gavrad could see a boot. He looked around, trying to ensure he would not be biting one of his comrads. Then he bit, hard, as far up the leg as he could get.
Immediately there was an incredible commotion. The Uruk, who up to now had been as silent as the stones about him, leaped up, screamed, and began to yell curses. He fumbled for his sword and in his panic sent it flying. Arrows flew in from all over - obviously the Elves of Lórien had archers hiding in the woods. Several Orcs, realizing their cover was now blown, jumped from hiding and ran towards the party. They were met with swords and morningstars. Several fell immediately, and the rest turned and fled down the path. Except the leader: he was too panicked to run as the snake at his feet bit him again and again.
Fëalókë and Lornath rode through the pass. Three Orcs saw Fëalókë and attacked. In their haste two of them slipped on the loose rocks and fell; one broke his sword on the hard ground underneath him. Fëalókë swung hard at the remaining orc and it fell, too.
More arrows flew in, killing several Orcs. Sword and morningstar clashed again and yet more Orcs fell. Pendergast cast a spell and another Orc keeled over, fast asleep. Baldôr ran to the the leader, whacked it once with his morningstar, and killed him.
By now all the Orcs had fallen. Those that were not yet dead were killed by Fëalókë and Andrahil. The party rummaged through the bodies and found six silver pieces on the leader, which Fëalókë added to the purse.
"Pendergast, your spell misled you a bit," said Andrahil. "Not only is the leader an Uruk, but so was the rest of the lurg. No wonder they were able to sit out for a few hours in the afternoon sun!"
The rest of the party mounted their horses and they rode on higher into the mountains. The remainder of the day was quiet, and they pitched camp in the evening and settled down for an untroubled night's rest.
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A ranger Elf suddenly appeared from among the dead trees of the abandoned fort. "You can ford the Nimrodel here," he told the party. "Then follow the Celebrant north to the Dimrill Dale and Lake Mirrormere. There you will be within sight of the Gates of Moria." And having given his information he turned and altogether vanished into the forest.
They set up camp in the remains of the fort. There was still some light left to the day, so Pendergast found some live pine trees and set about collecting sap. After boiling it a while, he determined the sap would make a useful substitute for pitch. He collected and boiled some more, then used it to create another one of his exploding devices.
Some time after midnight, as the two Elves were on watch, Lornath's sharp ears caught a voice on the river. No sooner had he aroused the camp than a raft crashed on to the bank and eight men jumped from it. Fëalókë, sword in hand, sprinted from his position at the edge of the camp, where he had been watching the forest, to the middle.
Pendergast grabbed his last remaining sunburst. "Cover your eyes!" he called and threw it at the river. It landed just short of the men and exploded in a brilliant flash of light. While the stunned ambush recovered, the fighters in the party rushed them and Aldorn, Gavrad, and Pendergast prepared spells.
Weapons clashed in the dark. Fëalókë, Andrahil, Lornath, and Baldôr, fighting at the front, each took hits, but wounded or killed the men they were fighting. Spells were cast and two of the men became strangely calm, watching the battle with disinterest as it raged about them. In the midst of it all Pendergast quietly made himself invisible and walked to the bank where a man was fighting Andrahil. He dropped the tar pit he had made three days earlier down the man's back. Then he pulled out his tinder-box, struck it three times, and lit the tar on fire.
In a moment the man realized his back was aflame. He shouted, panicked, then ran into the river. The fire was quenched, but the weight of the armour dragged unfortunate mercenary to his death at the bottom of the river.
Andrahil's morningstar killed another. "Surrender, while you yet have the chance!" he called to the survivors. The five left alive did. They were tied up and questioned.
"We were hired by someone who offered us a lot of money to kill some travellers: five gold pieces up front and more when we returned," said their leader. "Just how much more depended on how many we killed."
"How did you know who you were supposed to kill?" asked Aldorn.
"See for yourself," replied the leader, and he motioned over to his pack. Inside, the surprised party found drawings of themselves: the likenesses were well done. There was no picture of Olaf, who had died only ten days before before. And neither was there a picture of Baldôr.
Aldorn asked them if the one who had hired them wanted them to bring back any particular items. No, was the reply.
"He wanted nothing that we had?" asked Aldorn, a little surprisd.
"We could keep what plunder we could carry. All the man who hired us wanted was some proof you were dead."
The men were left tied up at one side of the fort while the party gathered on the other and talked in hushed tones.
"Possibly he expected the men to carry the Gem back with them," said Lornath. "Then he could take it for his own."
Fëalókë considered that for a moment, and said, "Perhaps he knows nothing about it. He himself may have been hired someone else, a person who knows just what it is we are carrying."
"What shall we do with them now?" asked Andrahil.
"How about we slay all but the leader?" said Aldorn. "Then he can lead us back to the one who had hired them. We take the reward money for ourselves before killing him."
"No," said Fëalókë. "That would take us too far out of our way and keep the enemies on our trail. Our safest path now is to lose them as we go through Moria. Any delay on that and we risk losing the Gem before we can get it to Rivendell."
Baldôr waded into the discussion. "How about we just tie up the survivors on their raft and let it float down river? The Elves will take care of them if the Anduin doesn't!"
They discussed this plan for a while and decided it was best. But before they could act, Narwin and a party of ranger Elves emerged from the forest.
"We heard the sounds of battle from down the river," she said, "and came here as swiftly as we could. But I see you have already dealt with the Men."
"Still, your presence here is welcome," said Fëalókë. "Would you be willing to take them as your prisioners back to Lórien? Perhaps the Lady can get more information out of them than we can."
At them mention of the Lady and the Golden Wood, the men begged the party put them on to the raft instead, so they could take their chances with the River. But Narwin was not willing they should escape so easily and took them into her custody. Fëalókë gave her the pictures they had carried with them. "Perhaps they may be useful to the Lady in answering the questions that still surround this band," he said. And with that, Narwin and her rangers led the men away.
The party took inventory: Baldôr's shield had been broken in battle, and Lornath and Andrahil had been slashed during the fighting. Using spells and herbs the wounded fighters were healed, and they settled down again to sleep for the rest of the night. Andrahil and Gavrad kept watch, and all was quiet.
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Suddenly, rounding a corner, they came upon a strange sight: a Dwarf sitting on the road. He was quite bald and his beard had been braided into three sections. Around his neck hung a small slate reading, "I have been sober for 486 days." Staring intently into his mug, he recited in Westron several small poems that cast Elves in an unfavourable light.
Baldôr took an immediate interest in his kinsman. They talked a bit in their native tongue, then Baldôr related what he had learned.
"He says his name is Tippy Rumlover. It is not his real name - he does not remember it. He says he was found in the seventh Deep of Moria over a year ago, with that slate around his neck. Back then it read, 'I love rum.' He remembers nothing before that. The Dwarves of Moria brought him back to health. He thinks his present condition was caused by rum, so he drinks it no more. Every day since he was found he has kept that slate updated."
"Just what is he doing out here?" asked Aldorn.
Tippy himself replied, this time using Common speech. "Three days ago I heard a voice telling me to come out to the road."
"Three days," mused Lornath. "That was the same day we met The Lady and -"
"Say no more of that!" cried Fëalókë, speaking in Elvish. "It is not for strangers to hear."
"The day be getting long," said Gavrad. Speaking to the strange Dwarf, he asked, "Are there any places for travellers to sleep along this path?"
"There are," Tippy replied. "Follow me and I'll show you!"
Reluctantly the party followed the strange Dwarf. He led them for a while before pointing out a cave in the mountain. They entered carefully and looked around. It was square; obviously it had been hewn out of the cliff face. It probably had been carved out by the Dwarves for just this prupose: a resting place on the road to or from Moria. It appeared safe enough, so they settled down and made camp.
Fëalókë got out the smithing tools given him by Galadriel, built a fire, and attemted to repair Baldôr's broken shield. But he was hampered by a lack of metal to work with, and his skills were not up to the task, so he gave up the attempt. The sight of an Elf working on his shield put Baldôr quite off his stride, and he became more and more upset as Fëalókë tried and failed. Eventually Gavrad quietly cast a spell and Baldôr settled down considerably.
Gavrad, meanwhile, used the fire to brew up some rewk roots he had collected on the journeys. He put the boiled medicine into waterskins the Lady had given him.
They kept watches in the night, but nothing disturbed them in the cave.
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Inside, with camp set up, they turned their attention to a serious matter.
"We will reach Moria tomorrow," said Andrahil. "How can we get four Men and two Elves inside?"
"We should have reasons," replied Aldorn. "I think we - the Men - should be able to get inside without many problems. Lornath can pass for a man if he keeps his hood up and his mouth shut. It may be Fëalókë will have the most trouble. You can't disguise his heritage so easily."
"For one, my shield needs to be repaired or replaced," said Baldôr. "It's no use to me now. And it may be the man with scar over his right eye is in Dunland. What faster way for a Dwarf to get there than through his home country?"
"We have gems, too," said Fëalókë, "that the Dwarves may be interested in."
"And Olaf's battleaxe," added Aldorn. "The Dwarves may be interested in that."
Pendergast spoke up. "There's the funny stuff I got in Dunlostír. I think a Dwarf smith might be able to tell me what it is!"
"All right," said Andrahil. "That should be enough. If we promise to make our stay short, we should be able to get everyone inside. Now let's get some sleep."
"I'll use a little dream spell I have to see if I can find out more about this man with the scar over his right eye," said Gavrad. "I may even be able to figure out where he is."
They posted watches, and again the night passed without incident.
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They started out again and early in the journey met a Dwarven patrol who inquired after the party's business. Baldôr spoke for them, saying they were accompanying Pendergast to Moria so he could do some work with the Dwarven metalworkers and alchemists. He added he was on a quest to avenge his family's honour and these people had indicated they were willing to assist him with it.
The patrol split into two groups. One went on its way, and the other joined the party as an escort back to Moria. At length they came to the Dimrill Dale and Lake Mirrormere. After eating, Gavrad and Andrahil hunted for medicinal herbs, turing up darsurian, mirenna, arthond, melander, aldeka, and megillos.
The East Gate of Moria was now in sight and they reached it by early evening. To their surprise the guards at the gate let them all enter with only a brief questioning. They did not appear to notice the Noldo Elf, or if they did, they gave no indication they cared. Perhaps Galadriel had sent a message on ahead. Relations between the Dwarves and the Elves may have been strained, but at least they were still talking to each other.
The party was informed they could stay in the City for a day to conduct their business, then they were to be on their way. Another company of guards showed them quarters that had been prepared. The party settled down for a good night's sleep: with Dwarves all around, there was no need to post a watch.
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Gavrad, meanwhile, was hoping to get some new medicianl plants to add to his stock. He located a physician in the city and paid him a visit. He explained to the skeptical Dwarf he had a few healing herbs the doctor may be interested in.
"Hmmm," said the doctor, unimpressed at the Man that stood before him. "Don't really trust anything that grows out in the sun. The best healing plants grow underground."
"Nevertheless," pressed Gavrad, "I hae a bonny collection of herbs, roots, and berries that have helped me friends several times in the past."
"Sorry, I'm not interested," growled the Dwarf.
"I was hoping perhaps I could learn a bit from your skill and -"
"I said I was not interested!" With that, the Dwarf pushed Gavrad out into the corrider and slammed the door shut. Gavrad muttered something uncomplimentry in his native language, then returned to his temporary quarters.
Pendergast had more success. He and Aldorn tracked down Kragnor, a Mastersmith. They talked for a while in his workshop and Pendergast offered some money for manganese and brimstone. Kragnor replied he might be able to supply him some. At length the wizard produced the strange glowing substance he had obtained in Dunlostír over a month before, explaining the smith there had used it to produce swords that did not fly out of the hands of the people who held them. The Dwarf took a small sample and set ii just inside the forge. As it grew hotter, some black flecks in the substance suddenly vaporized and disappeared. The sample was removed from the forge and set aside. As it cooled down it began to glow yellow.
"Strange suff indeed," said Kragnor. He began to hit the sample with his hammer. It was malleable: it did not break apart when struck.
"Here," said Pendergast, "wait a moment." He cast a spell to determine if there was any evil in the metal. It showed none, so he cast another to detect essence magic. There was nothing, really, except for a very faint background essence he could detect anywhere. Therefore, the old wizard concluded, this substance had a power all its own. Perhaps it had been made by the Enemy and could cause harm to the party. But he kept these thoughts to himself and asked Kragnor to carry on with his tests.
"I want to try a couple of things," said the mastersmith, separating the sample into two pieces. One he put into a flask and covered it with oil. The other he tried to combine with iron. But it seemed to resist attempts to merge with other metals. Only when the iron and the substance were placed together into the very heart of the forge and almost burned away did they combine. Kragnor pulled the resulting liquid from the forge and poured it into a bar mould.
When it had cooled enough to be handled, Kragnor released the sample from the mould. The bar was smooth to the touch when he ran his hand against it, but when he gripped it in a fist it seemed to shape itself to his hand and would not slip out.
"No wonder the smith in Dunlostír had a reputation for fine weapons," said Aldrorn.
"I have no need for this stuff," said Pendergast. "It doesn't go bang. How about I give you all of it in exchange for the maganese and brimstone?"
Delighted, Kragnor accepted the offer and Pendergast handed him his remainding supply. The Dwarf walked over to his stores to put the flask on the shelf beside the sample he had packed in oil, then excitedly called Pendergast. The sample in the flask had completely dissolved in the oil, which itself now faintly glowed yellow.
"Thank you for this," said Kragnor. "You have given me enough to keep me busy with experiments for a year." And he gave the Wizard several ounces of brimstone and manganese.
"Thank you," said Pendergast in his turn. "Now I also have a need for rune paper. Do you know anyone around here who would have some?"
"That I do," said Kragnor. "Here, I'll take you. It is easy to lose yourself in the city, and it is difficult to describe to an outsider how to get around."
The three of them left his shop. Climbing four levels, Kragnor led the two men through a maze of streets, tunnels, and corridors to the dwelling of Brandel. He seemed old, even for a Dwarf, and on this day did not appear to be welcoming of visitors, especially strangers from outside the Mountain.
Pendergast asked him if he had any rune paper he was willing to sell.
"Yes," said Brandel, irritated. "But not much. It is arduous to make and my supply is small. I do not want to take the time to make any more this month. I have eight sheets. If you want any they will cost you a gold each."
"I can pay that," Pendergast replied, and handed eight gold pieces to the astonished Dwarf. The sight of the gold seemed to improve the Dwarf's disposition: he gave Pendergast the eight precious sheets of rune paper with no further complaint. Then they all parted company and went their separate ways: Kragnor back to his forge, and Pendergast and Aldorn back to their friends.
It was early in the afternoon when they prepared to travel again. Fëalókë, concerned about the noise their shod horses would make in the confined tunnels of Moria, recommended they tie scraps of leather to their feet. They located a leather worker willing to sell them enough pieces for all their horses. They paid him a silver piece per horse, and in a few minutes they had them fitted with simple but quiet leather soled boots.
Having done everything in the city they needed to do, they started out on the long, dark journey undeground to the West Gate. The road was very good. The leather soles they purchased for the horses dampened the noise of the passage considerably. As they travelled further from the city the lights became fewer and further apart. After several the humans in the group began to tire, so Baldôr found a good side tunnel and led them down it.
The side road opened into a settlement. The Dwarves living there were astonished at the group that had suddenly come to them off the road, but they were good folk and offered them water and a place to sleep. These the party gladly accepted. Then they rested for several hours while the Elves kept watch, first Fëalókë, then Lornath.
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After breakfast they took to the road again. Like the day before it was quiet and dimly lit. All except the two Dwarves in the party were now feeling the effects of two full days without seeing the sun. The Elves in particular longed to be outside again, where they could look up into the sky and see the stars.
After a long day, Baldôr found a traveller's rest area for them off the main road. Here Pendergast built a fire and put together another sunburst. Then he recruited Gavrad and Baldôr to help him search for materials for something he called a "sanguine base." Gavrad got Andrahil to join them. There was little to be found, for the area they were in was well-travelled and kept clean. But Pendergast found a small collection of bat droppings that he collected for later use.
Andrahil cast a food finding spell and located several areas with mushrooms in them. But in the labarynthian maze of tunnels that was Moria, there was not really any way to get to where they were growing. So he gave up on that task.
They kept full watches that night: first Fëalókë and Andrahil, then Fëalókë and Lornath, and finally Lornath and Gavrad. All was quiet and uneventful.
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