Day 55 Sunday Moria: To the West Gate.

Reached the gate and stayed there overnight. Purchased extra rations.

Day 56 Monday To Rivendell: North of Dunland.

Met old lady who lived by hersellf in an untamed land.

Day 57 Tuesday To Rivendell: The Priest, some Trolls, and a bear.

Battle at the Bridge (10 wargs killed.) Met priest and reset standing stone. Battle with the Trolls (3 trolls killed.)

Day 58 Wednesday To Rivendell: Two Troll-holds and the Witch-King.

Death of Tippy Rumlover. Battle at the Troll-Cave(15 Orcs killed.)

Day 59 Thursday To Rivendell: Stopover in a small farming town.

Warned residents of the farming town of danger from trolls.

Day 60 Friday To Rivendell: Stopover in a small farming town.

Scouted for Trolls. Battle with five Trolls (5 trolls killed.)

Day 61 Saturday To Rivendell: Stopover in a small farming town.

Rested in the town for the day. Bairagläth joins the party.

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Guided Tour

The occasional lamp on the wall let them know were still on the main path. The halls were getting busy again for they were near the west gate. At last they came upon a company of gaurds at the gate, who were surprised to see the party.

"What news of the outside world?" asked Fëalókë.

"No news," said the guard. "We do not concern ourselves with the affairs of Men."

"What time of day is it?" Fëalókë asked.

"Late afternoon, by the sun."

"Perhaps we should stay here the night, then," said the Elf. "It would be safer that camping out in the open."

"That could be arranged, " said the Dwarf, "although I do not know why you are so eager to leave the Mountain."

Fëalókë gave no answer. The Dwarves there showed the party some sleeping quarters.

Suddenly Lornath approached Tippy. "You did a really good job polishing your head," he said, running his fingers over the Dwarf's gleaming head. Then he walked away, leaving a strange faint glow about Tippy's head, the results of a light spell he had just cast.

Ever the planners, Fëalókë and Andrahil discussed the way ahead. They figured it would take close to three weeks to make the journey to Rivendell and they had a bit better than two weeks rations. Fëalókë found a Dwarf wiliing to sell them some, and for two pieces of gold the entire party gained an extra week's rations.

They kept no watches, for the Dwarves kept watch well enough.

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They removed the horses' booties and rode away North from the gates. As they rode they kept a careful watch about them for any enemies. The trail was very rough, suitable perhaps for Dwarves on foot, but very difficult for people on horses. Old Pendergast seemed to be having a particularly difficult time of it, barely able to urge his horse forward. So they slowed down to keep pace with him.

By the afternoon Pendergast seemed to get the hang of riding outside and the party made better progress. The path descended steeply down from the west gate, out of the mountains into the foothills. Lornath, peering off into the distance to a spur of the mountain, noticed a swirl of smoke. Fearing an ambush of sorts, they veered off the trail and proceeded cautiously.

Now much closer, Lornath was able to make out a cabin dug into a hill. Fëalókë and Andrahil, with Gavrad following close behind, spent nearly twenty minutes creeping up to the edge of the hollow where the cabin was built. It was a well built affair of timber with a thatched roof. No windows were visible and the door was closed. Gavrad used his amulet to call a mouse and sent it scurrying across the field, hoping his pet lynx was not in the immediate area. He found the house easily enough and located a hole under the door. Into the house he went. Inside was an old lady sitting in a rocking chair, knitting. The mouse looked around a bit. As he was about to leave, she looked at the mouse and said, "Good-bye." Gavrad scurried the mouse out of the house before the spell vanished.

Andrahil knocked on the door of the house and asked of her directions to Rivendell. Fëalókë joined him and asked her a few quick questions; she was so far away from other habitations, how could she stay safe? She was close to the Dwarves, she said, no Orcs bothered her. And a good sturdy door with a bar behind it discouraged most intruders. The scouting team said good-bye and returned to the rest of the party.

Again Pendergast experienced considerable difficulty inciting his horse to move, but after several minutes of gentle coaxing finally managed to convince co-operate. But it was infections: Baldôr and Aldorn, who up to now had had no problems, now found themselves having to cajole their mounts to walk. So travel was quite a bit slower than the previous hours. Eventually the sun began sinking in the west and the party made camp.

Aldorn inscribed three of the rune papers with Sleep 5 spells and gave one sheet each to Pendergast and Gavrad. Then they settled down for the night.

Andrahil, hiding outside the light cast by the fire, and Fëalókë kept the first watch, and all was quiet. Then Lornath joined Fëalókë on watch while Andrahil slept. Finally Fëalókë went to meditate and Gavrad joined Lornath on watch. The third watch, too, was quiet.

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"I don't like this," said Fëalókë. "They look like wolves, or even wargs."

"There's a bridge up ahead that crosses a river," said Andrahil. "If we can make it before the wolves do, we'll be able make a stand there!"

They spurred their horses on as best they could, but they had noticed the wolves and were harder to control. For several anxious minutes they raced, trying to reach the bridge before their pursuers did. It was difficult to determine how many there were, for they ducked in and out of hollows and hid behind rocks, never showing more than three or four at once.

"The bridge is just ahead!" called Lornath.

Suddenly the air about them erupted in howls and barks as the wargs began calling back and forth. The bridge came into view. Wargs, too, could be seen heading to the bridge in an attempt to cut the party off. But the people were faster, gaining the bridge first. Baldôr, Andrahil, and Lornath crossed first and went clear across. Gavrad, Tippy, and Andrahil stopped on the bridge and dismounted. Pendergast pulled out a tarpit and handed it to Fëalókë, who stopped short on the bridge and lobbed at the ground in front. It splashed into a wide, sticky pool at the entrance to the bridge.

Four wargs descended on the bridge and were stopped short by the tar. A fifth jumped the tar and lunged for Tippy, who threw his net at it. The net sailed high over the beast and landed with a splash in the river. The warg snapped at Tippy, cutting him. Fëalókë swung at the warg and wounded it slightly.

Pendergast, Lornath, and Baldôr dismounted and secured their horses. Wargs that had stuck in Pendergast's tar pit tried to loose themselves. One that had fallen on its side managed to get to its feet, but at tremendous cost, for it left most of the fur on its left side in the tar. Four more came running in. One jumped the tar and lunged for Fëalókë's horse. The Elf swung at it with Icetongue and it fell, a leg cut off.

Another warg jumped the tar and landed in front of Gavrad. He poked his spear at it, but the warg easily sidestepped, then attacked, giving the Dunlending a nasty bite. Baldôr swung his morningstar at the huge dog and killed it with a single stroke.

And another warg jumped the tar and attacked Andrahil, who replied twice with his morningstar, breaking first its shoulder, then a front log. By now four wargs were stuck in the tar, four lay on the bridge wounded or dead, and two were more running in. One of these easily jumped the tar and landed in front of Tippy. Both he and Baldôr swung their morningstars at it and it fell with a broken leg. The other also jumped on to the bridge and attacked Fëalókë's horse, inflicting a bite that began to bleed badly. The horse kicked at the attacker, breaking its shoulder.

Fëalókë swung at one of the wargs caught in the tar and cut off a leg. The three other wargs caught in the tar finally broke free and began to flee. Another tried to escape from the bridge but got stuck, and moments later Fëalókë killed it.

By now both Lornath and Andrahil had their horses tied and their bows strung. They let loose arrows, hitting the warg that had received a broken shoulder from the hoof of Fëalókë's horse. Lornath shot again and killed it. The poor warg that had received both a broken shoulder and leg from Andrahil vainly tried to follow the ones fleeing the scene. Baldôr, with Tippy cheering him on, stumped over to it and struck it with his morningstar. Aldorn followed, killing it with his sword. The three fleeing wargs, bloodied and covered in tar, disappeared into the hills. The battle had lasted less than two minutes.

In the midst of the battle, Pendergast had cast a spell and walked out on to the river to pick up Tippy's net. As the tide of battle had begun to turn in favour of the party, he danced on the river, singing a silly song. When it was over he returned to the bank and returned the net to Tippy.

Gavrad cast three spells on himself to heal the bite he had received. Pendergast walked over assist, and between them the Dunlending was healed completely.

Leaving the dead wargs for scavengers, the party left the bridge and continued north. The trail improved greatly and they made better progress. Late that afternoon, Andrahil noticed dark clouds on the horizon. Casting a weather prediction spell, he determined the next day would be windy and rainy. The party decided it would be best to seek shelter. As the sun began to set in the west, they noticed a trail leading off the main. They followed it a bit, coming upon a house. When they were within range, Lornath, who had had a nature's awareness spell going for the past couple of hours, reported one person inside.

Andrahil knocked on the door, and after several moments of silence it was answered by an elderly man who could have been Pendergast's brother, for they looked so much alike. "What do you want?" he asked.

"We'd like to purchase a night's stay," said Andrahil.

"Sorry," said the old man. "You're eight people and I have very little room."

"Is there anything better to the north of us?" asked Fëalókë. "Are there any other dwellings or settlements?"

"No," the old man replied. "The closest dwelling is a day or two to the north, but no settlements of any mention."

Fëalókë pressed the point. "Is there any place we can stay? There's a storm coming and we'd like to be inside. I'd prefer not to be outside when the rain comes down."

"Well," he said, "I guess I could let you stay. Hope you have your own bedding. I don't."

"No worry there," replied the Elf.

"What do you do here?" asked Aldorn. "What's your name?"

"What do I do?" replied the man, apparently surprised by visitors who did not know him. "I'm a priest! I help people maintain a closer relationship with nature. As for my name, well, I don't have one. It's sort of a tradition for this place. The one who tutored me had no name either."

"Everyone has to have a name," said Tippy. "I name you Joe."

"Is that Dwarf all right?" the old man asked Andrahil.

"No - he was found in the deeps of Moria, suffering from memory loss," Andrahil replied. "He sort of sought us out and attached himself to our party. We tolerate him, for he has some skills we find useful. By the way, do you have any work that needs to be done? If you do, we will do what we can, and repay you for the inconvenience."

"Funny you should ask," replied the man. "Indeed I have work you can do. Come, follow me."

He led them along another path to an almost perfectly bowl-shaped hollow. In it an altar had been set up, carved out of a huge rock that had been in the bottom of the hollow since the creation of the world. Surrounding it were five standing stones, one of which had fallen over.

"I'd like to get this stone put back into its place," he said, pointing out the fallen stone.

"No problem," replied Andrahil, hurrying back to the horses to pick up the ropes. He tied them around the stone and looped them back and forth to the altar in a primitive block-and-tackle. The free end of the rope they tied to the saddle of Fëalókë's horse. As the Dwarves dug at the ground with a set of metal leg greaves, there being no other digging tools available, Fëalókë carefully urged his horse forward. The stone slowly rose back into place and settled into its hole. The old priest was delighted with the entire performace.

"Thank you so much!" he said, more than once. "Thank you! Things did not feel right at the altar ever since that stone fell over."

"Just how did it fall over?" asked Baldôr, after they had secured the stone into place.

"I think it was hit by lightning. See, here, there are marks and some scorching," he said, pointing out a distinctive pock-mark in the stone.

Their labours completed, they all returned to the house. Pendergast took advantage of the shelter to do a little alchemy work. Mixing together choleric base, brimstone, and pitchblend, he created something he called a smoke screen. The old priest was fascinated by Pendergast's work, and when he understood what the wizard was up to, he gave him some strong white pepper to add to the mix. This was a revelation to Pendergast: he had always sought out exotic chemicals and compounds for his alchemy, and here was a common household item that packed as much punch as anything he had seen.

Gavrad showed the priest the erdenna buds he had picked up in Fangorn and asked him if he knew anything about it. The priest examined it intently for a few moments.

"No," he replied, "but I'd recommend you brew it up into a very weak tea and experiment."

"I have other things here," said Gavrad, and handed the him his precious pouch of herbs and roots. "Take a look through it and see if there's anything here that interests you."

The priest methodically examined the contents of Gavrad's pouch and after several minutes looked up and said, "You have terbas in here, which is very difficult to find in this area. I'll be willing to trade you ten of these for five doses of phacalus root."

"Phaculus root?" asked Lornath. "I know woodlore pretty well, but I've never heard of that."

"Probably not, Elf," replied the priest. "Applied directly, it stops bleeding within a minute. But if you dry it for a week in the sun, as I have done to the five doses here, it has some very interesting properties. Swallow it whole, and end up a bit smarter and wiser than you were before you took it."

"Powerful stuff!" said Tippy. "I'd like some of that."

"And dangerous," rejoined the priest, sternly. "It could react badly. You could end up in a coma for four days and wake up a good deal less smart and wise. Or an allergic reaction: painful blisters on your knees and elbows that put you out of commission for a month. Or a system shock that could kill you. Or a disease that causes your skin to fall off, so you die a long and painful death."

"I still want it! All five doses!" said Tippy.

"You'll have to wait," Gavrad retorted. Then to the priest, he said, "Thank you. The exchange is fair: I'll accept your phacalus and you may have my terbas. Its ability to stop bleeding may come in useful. We've been in a lot of fights lately." Then he looked at Tippy. "If we haven't used it by the time we get to Rivendell, you can have a dose there. If there are any nasty side effects, there will be better healers than me to look after you."

By now it was late. The old priest disappeared to the only other room in the house to sleep. The party made themselves as comfortable as they could on the floor. Andrahil and Fëalókë kept watch outside while the wind picked up and the temperature fell.

Near the end of his watch, at his post by the altar, Fëalókë noticed some movement and quickly hid behind one of the standing stones. Something flew past him and landed in the ground a few feet away. He stalked forward carefully to the lip of the bowl. Peering across, he could make out the forms of three large trolls ambling toward the bowl, playing catch with a boulder. Quickly the Elf slipped back to the cabin, signalled to Andrahil, then entered the cabin and awoke the party.

In moments they were all outside. Most of the party hid, preparing weapons and spells. The old priest, who had come out with them, suddenly was nowhere to be found.

Meanwhile the trolls, lobbing the boulder back and forth between them, slowly progressed closer to the bowl and the people quietly watching them. Then the first troll, watching the boulder and not the terrain, stumbled in. The other two began to laugh.

Without warning, Tippy suddenly broke cover and began running to the bowl. Too late he stopped and tried to hide. But here he was exposed, for there was no cover. From the bowl the first troll noticed the movement. Standing up, his head and shoulder easily above the rim, he intently searched the area where Tippy had tried to hide. Then he grinned a huge troll grin and called out to his buddies, "Dwarf!"

Several things happened at once. A tremendous flash of light suddenly illuminated the entire area. Lornath let loose an arrow and hit the first troll. Tippy, stunned by the light spell, opened the waterskin containing the vinuk tea Gavrad had prepared earlier and drank a draught. The other two trolls started over to Tippy's position. On their way over, the third one, holding the boulder they had been playing with, slipped and nearly dropped it.

The first troll, also stunned by the blinding flash of light and hurt by Lornath's arrow, looked about him in confusion. Pendergast fired off the mirage spell he had been preparing, and suddenly a chorus of elven children appeared in front of the troll holding the rock, standing as though they were about to sing. Fëalókë and Baldôr emerged from their hiding places and began running to the trolls. Aldorn, too, hoping to get into range for a spell he was preparing, crept from hiding and moved closer to the fight.

The vinuk tea worked for Tippy, and regaining his presence of mind, he swung his morningstar at the troll standing in the bowl in front of him, hitting it in the face. Gavrad cast a calm spell he had been preparing, and the second troll suddenly lost interest in the battle. But not the third one: he lobbed his boulder at Tippy. It flew overhead, striking the ground behind the Dwarf and bouncing over Aldorn and Fëalókë who were coming to his aid.

Fëalókë ran past the Dwarf and the stunned Troll, through Pendergast's light mirage of Elven children, and attacked the second troll with Icetongue. He connected all right and the troll yelled out in pain. Lornath fired an arrow at the troll Fëalókë had just attacked, but it glanced off its leather clothing. Baldôr also attacked the same troll, his morningstar hitting hard and true. Tippy swung again at the troll in the bowl and managed a minor hit. The third troll noticed Aldorn and lumbered over to him. Raising high his club, he brought it down at the bard, who jumped aside at the last momemt. The club clipped him and buried into the ground.

Both Fëalókë and Andrahil prepared to swing at the trolls they were fighting, but fumbled their weapons and hit themselves instead. The Elf suffered little more than wounded pride, but there was a decided "crack" from Andrahil's direction as the head of his morningstar hit him square in the chest. Aldorn reached up to touch the third troll and cast the stun song spell he had been preparing. His expression changed to sudden fear when he realized his spell and gone off without so much as affecting the troll.

Suddenly the old priest reappeard beside Aldorn. "You call yourselves fighters?!" he asked angrily. "You're lucky I'm around, or none of you would make it out of here alive!" Then bright light appeared around the head of the troll. It blinked, let go its club, and covered its eyes with its hands. Aldorn ran back to the cabin.

Fëalókë hit the second troll, giving it a nasty slash in one of its legs, then Baldôr killed it with his morningstar. Pendergast cast a spell and vanished. Lornath fired an arrow at the troll Tippy had been fighting, but the missle went wide and disappeared into the bowl. Tippy swung wildly at the troll, then cried out in pain as his morningstar came back and hit him. Seeing this, Baldôr ran to aid his kinfolk.

Leaving the dead troll, Fëalókë ran into the bowl behind the troll standing there. He heard Pendergast's voice beside him. "Get behind one of them big stones!" the old wizard told the Elf. Fëalókë knew better than to question the old man, even though he could not see him. Pendergast dropped the sap grenade he had made a week earlier and scurried back behind a stone. The device went off with a decided "bang!" and troll cried out, reaching down and grabbed its foot. Then Baldôr reached the troll and with a mighty swing hit it with his morningstar. The great creature fell down dead, the ball of the Dwarf's morningstar buried in its chest.

"The last one's getting away!" called Andrahil, running after the blinded troll, which had started walking away from the fight.

"Well, hit it!" called the priest, and Andrahil did, wounding it with his morningstar. Tippy too ran after the troll and hit it. Then, almost as if it came from nowhere, an arrow flew in and plunged itself deep into the troll's neck. The troll stood completely still for a moment, then crumpled to the ground in a heap, quite dead. Andrahil and Tippy looked over to see Lornath holding his bow high in the air and wearing a huge grin on his face.

The battle over, Baldôr dug the head of his morningstar out of the chest of the troll he had killed. While Tippy returned to bed, the rest of the party searched for treasure on the bodies. Between the three trolls there were 35 silver pieces and a bag of dried fingers.

Aldorn joined Lornath on watch while Fëalókë expertly repaired Baldôr's broken morningstar. Gavrad joined Lornath for the third watch. Halfway through, Gavrad noticed a large shape thirty feet away. As he carefully made his way back to the cabin, he looked looked behind him to see a bear following. Shouting at the bear did not seem to faze it, so he quickly prepared a calm spell and cast it. Lornath heard Gavrad's calls and loped over to his position, bow at the ready. The calm spell seemed to have no effect, but the bear stopped following when Gavrad turned to cast the spell. He called Lornath closer to his position. Hearing this, the bear reared up, and Lornath fired. He hit it, putting an arrow into its front leg. The bear swung down and missed, and Gavrad turned tail and sprinted to the cabin.

By now many of the people in the cabin were awake. Baldôr opened the door just in time for Gavrad to run in. He jumped in and Andrahil ran out to engage the bear. He swung at it, hitting and stunning it. While Aldorn called out for everyone to come back to the cabin, Baldôr stomped out and whacked it with his morningstar.

Suddenly the old priest stormed out of his bedroom, grabbed a staff, and charged out of the house, shouting and cursing. He headed over to where Andrahil and Baldôr were attacking the now senseless bear and angrily shoved them both out of the way. He healed the bear and spent the next half hour talking to it in calm, soothing tones. Eventually the bear got up, continued on its way, and the priest returned to the cabin. Still angry, he gave the warriors a good dressing-down before returning to bed.

Andrahil joined Lornath and Gavrad for the remainder of the watch. Fëalókë used his smithing tools and repaired Baldôr's morningstar.

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"I've never seen trolls around here before," mused the priest. "And now they appear on my doorstep only a couple of hours after midnight."

"We'll take the day to look for their lair and ensure there are no others there," said Fëalókë.

At Gavrad's invitation the priest joined the party for the expedition. Andrahil successfully cast a tracking spell and they all headed out in search of the troll hold. After three hours of scrambling over the rough hills they came upon a depression with a small hole, approximately six feet by six, at the far end. Neither Pendergast nor Gavrad, who had nature's awareness spells going, noticed anything. Andrahil was able to discern three separate sets of troll tracks entering and leaving.

Before entering, Gavrad used his amulet to summon a bat and send it in. Unable to understand how its echo location worked, he let the bat free to do its own thing and simply followed it. The bat made its way into the cave and quickly noticed it ended several feet in. But the floor disappeared into a shaft that had been sunk a good thirty feet down. It opened into a chamber some twenty feet high and forty feet square. Three sleeping pallets had been set up but there was no other furniture to be seen. Gavrad released the bat from his spell and reported his findings to the party.

Fëalókë and Andrahil entered the cave to check for traps and secret doors. Finding neither, Andrahil checked around for other trails the trolls may have left. He found one that approached the area from the opposite direction.

They discussed the shaft. "'Tis only four feet across," said Gavrad. "Those trolls were wider than that at the shoulder. There's no way they could fit down this hole."

"Perhaps it is a chimney of some sort," said Fëalókë. "The true entrance could be hidden somewhere else. I will go in and see."

"You do that," said Andrahil. "I'm going to explore a bit more around this area. Anyone else want to join me?"

"I'll come with you," said Baldôr, and the two went off together.

Fëalókë put a rope down the shaft and went down, followed by Tippy and Gavrad. The Elf was right: the shaft was a chimney cut into the middle of the ceiling, over top of the fire pit. Tippy followed, going down the rope with unusual ease. Lornath came next, but halfway down slipped and fell. He landed hard in the fire pit, twisting his ankle.

"We'll have to take care of this before we do much else," said Fëalókë, picking up Lornath and carrying him off the fire pit. Gavrad searched his herb bag for the arpsusar stalks. But they needed to be boiled, so he climbed out again and set out in search of wood for a fire. While he collected it, Pendergast got out his cooking pot, filled it with water, and prepared his flint and tinder.

Suddenly Andrahil reappeared without Baldôr. "We found a stream flowing out of a larger cave a short distance from here," he reported, "Troll tracks were heading in and out. We went into the cave but it get too dark for me to see. So I left Baldôr there and came back for light and reinforcements."

"I can supply light," said Pendergast. "But we'll have to wait a bit. Lornath apparently hurt himself climbing down the shaft. Gavrad's going to boil something up for him, and right now he's looking for firewood. When he comes back I'll light a fire and then I can go with you."

Gavrad returned with the wood. Pendergast lit the fire, then he, Andrahil, and Aldorn went off to search the cave Andrahil and Baldôr had found.

While waiting for Gavrad above, Fëalókë and Tippy searched the chamber. Rummaging through the sleeping pallets, the Dwarf found a pouch containing eight gold pieces. Fëalókë patiently tapped everywhere on the walls and eventually marked out an area, the size of a normal door, that sounded a bit different from the rest of the place. But try as he might, he could find nothing to open the door. He returned to the fire pit and carefully searched it, but found nothing hidden there. Lornath cast a detect channeling and Fëalókë cast detect essence. Lornath's spell turned up nothing, but the other Elf determined the door was wooden with an illusion spell to make it look like stone.

Gavrad's arpsusar tea ready, he poured it into a water skin and climbed down into the room again. After taking a draught, Lornath exercised his ankle for a few minutes and thanked the animist for his curing powers. Then he walked over to the door. He tried to spring the lock, failed, and tried again with more success a few minutes later. The door swung open. Then he and Fëalókë drew their swords, and accompanied by Gavrad and Tippy they entered the corridor beyond.

Back at the other cave, Andrahil returned with Pendergast and Aldorn. Baldôr led the four of them in, with Pendergast casting a presence spell while they walked. Studying the walls as they went, Andrahil determined they had been recently worked to make them higher. Approximately 150 feet from the cave mouth the tunnel branched left. The stream continued on ahead, but the cave there no longer showed signs of being worked. The four explorers turned left to follow the higher tunnel. It went in that direction for a hundred feet, went in a wide curve again to the left, and ended in a large chamber, about 110 feet across. Carefully they approached and looked inside.

"Let there be light!" called Pendergast, and his spell lit up the room.

Three huge beds were visible, the right size for the trolls they had killed the night before. A large pile of stone rubble had been piled against the wall opposite the entrance. The embers of a fire still glowed in a fire pit. Shelves loaded with miscellaneous items ran fourteen feet up the wall. They all noticed two large chests on a shelf about eight feet off the floor.

Andrahil checked carefully for traps and announced he found none, so they entered and looked around. A door could be seen on the left hand wall. Thirty feet to the right of the tunnel by which they had entered the chamber another one went out of the room. The beds were standard for trolls: huge, hulking wooden frames with several large bags of straw thrown on them. The party carefully poked through them but found nothing. The rubble pile, too, had little of value in it.

While Baldôr kept watch for Pendergast, Aldorn and Andrahil examined the other corridor. It curved slightly to the right and headed off at an angle. A hundred and fifty feet down the corridor they found four cells lining each side of it. But again they were hampered by the lack of light, so they returned to the main chamber.

During this time Pendergast and Baldôr had been rummaging through a pile of armour that had been thrown under the shelves. After casting aside all the broken and rusted weapons, they had salvaged a helmet, a good broadsword, a chain vest suitable for a large human, and a kite shaped shield, probably owned by the same person who had formerly occupied the vest.

Pendergast carefully examined all the items they had gleaned from the trolls' collection and determined most were of good, solid construction. The shield was an exception: it was very well made and quite light. Aldorn cast a detect essence spell on the lot and found nothing.

The next shelf contained many jars, about eighteen inches in diameter and thirty inches high. Pendergast picked up a few, one after the other, and shook them slightly. They were heavy and the contents made no sound. After considering for a moment, he decided against opening them and checked the next shelf up. Here he found a real prize: a long sword, still in the scabbard and with the belt attached.

They turned their attention next to the two locked chests on the shelf. Casting a balance spell on himself, Aldorn stood on the bottom shelf to get a better view of the chests. He examined them for traps and determined there was something in the huge padlocks on the chests. He cast a lock lore spell. That told him was the lock actually contained a simple mechanism and a very cunning trap. Using the knowledge gained from the spell he successfully picked the lock. Carefully he removed the padlock and placed it on the shelf. Then he looked inside the chest and called out in disappointment, "It's full of copper and tin coins - no gold here!"

The others hauled over one of the trolls' straw mattresses. Andrahil and Aldorn heaved the chest off the shelf. It landed with a thud on the mattress and spilled out its contents. Buried among the cheap coins were a gaudy gold ring set with a big ruby, a bronze wrist cuff with no markings, and a simple silver circlet for the head. This last item was definitely of Elvish make, for the script inside was written in their flowing script, and the language was Quenya.

Pendergast examined each item in turn. The ring he declared to be worthless: "Take the ruby out and sell it separately," he said crossly, "and melt down the ring for the gold." Aldorn examined it too. He said he did not see anything special about the ring, either, but offered the opinion that perhaps Pendergast's opinion was hasty.

The silver circlet was examined next. Pendergast translated the Quenya as best he could, gleaning it was a call to Elbereth for protection, and noticed essence magic in it as well. He figured wearing the circlet would give the wearer the benefit of a resistance spell. Such magic would work best for an Elf, particularly a Noldo, and may even work for a good human.

Neither Pendergast nor Aldorn found anything special on the bronze wrist cuff.

Finally they looked at the sword. It had a simple straight slender blade, sharpened on both edges and blunt at the end. The scabbard was made from good leather with steel bands for reinforcement. The wizard was certain there was some channeling magic in the sword, and after examining it for some time determined it was intended for magic users. An animist, mage, or wizard who trained with this sword and used it in battle would have a significant advantage.

Having exhausted the contents of the first chest, they examined the second. Pendergast cast a balance spell on Aldorn and he climbed the shelf to look at it. Another lock lore spell and that padlock, too, was opened and set aside. After checking for traps and finding none, he opened the lid and peered inside.

"There are three small leather pouches in here," he reported to the other three, "and a mace - and a helmet! The mace has metal handle and the head is not solid, but does some really nasty looking spikes on it! The helmet has two big horns on it, a visor with eye-holes in it, and a chain veil that hangs down the back of the neck."

One by one he pulled the items out of the chest and handed them down, then jumped off the shelf. Andrahil and Aldorn examined the mace. The metal handle and hollow head combined to make the weapon less top-heavy than most maces, which gave it a significant advantage in battle. The helmet, too, was well made, providing the wearer excellent protection in a fight.

Between the three pouches there were 90 Rhudaurian silver pieces and 15 Rhudaurian gold pieces.

The top shelf was well over everyone's head, so Pendergast cast another balance spell on Aldorn. The bard scrambled up to the second shelf to take a look. All he saw was a backpack, which he grabbed and handed down. This they opened to discover a pair of boots inside. Pendergast examined them and said they had channeling magic in them that would reduce the risk of the person wearing them slipping and falling. Baldôr wanted them but they were too big for the Dwarf. Suggesting Gavrad would find these useful, Pendergast picked them up and put them into his backpack.

There was still the door to check out. It was held shut with a bar locked in place by a padlock. Aldorn examined it for traps and saw it was of the same design as the other two he had dealt with. But his attempt to pick this particular lock was unsuccessful. Then Pendergast walked over, cast a merging organic spell, and to everyone's amazement literally walked through the door.

He found himself inside a little store room. In it were five barrels. Placed on shelves were a couple of crates and a small chest. He pushed at barrels and determined they were full. The two crates were nailed shut, but their slats were spread far enough apart that he could pull back the burlap packing and see a box inside. Strapping his staff to his back, he picked up one of the crates and took it outside through the door. Then he returned to store room and came out with the other crate and the small chest.

They opened the first crate, then extracted the box inside and opened it. It was full of cutlery - knives, forks, and spoons. Likewise the second crate held a similar box filled with tin plates. In the small chest was a set of chef's knives.

They abandoned the silverware and plated and headed down the tunnel Andrahil and Aldorn had checked out earlier. The cells were definitely prison cells; indeed, in one the long decomposed body of one of the inmates was still visible. Seventy feet beyond the cells there was a door on the right, and thirty feet beyond that the tunnel ended in another door.

"Well, I guess we found our friends!" came Lornath's voice from down the tunnel, and in moments he, Fëalókë, Tippy, and Gavrad appeared on the scene. "We found a secret door in the room back there," the Elf explained. "It opened into a short hallway that led to a tunnel. There's a spring at the end of the tunnel. It's the source of a stream that probably flows out of the cave. Then we followed it in the other direction and found the tunnel leading into the big room. From the looks of the room it appeared you had already been through it. We guessed you came upon it from the opposite direction, through the cave Andrahil and Baldôr had discovered. When I heard voices coming from down this tunnel, Fëalókë and I figured it was probably you guys."

All together now, they examined the door in the hallway. It was unlocked and opened into a large room that contained four rows of beds. At the foot of many of the beds were chests. They party opened several of these, but for the most part they were either empty or the contents were of little value. Many of the chests contained coins of small value. But they had a story to tell, for not one was less than a hundred years old, indicating the place had been abandoned a century before.

They left the barracks and went to the door at the end of the hallway. It, too, was unlocked, and the room behind it appeared to be the mess hall. Two other rooms led off opposite and to the right. The one on the right was empty. The door the room opposite was solidly built and locked with a simple padlock. Lornath swiftly picked it, and they opened the door and entered the room.

It appeared to be the weapons room, for inside there were several longbows, quivers of arrows, rusty swords, and shields. Pendergast checked out the bows and arrows, but all were too old and brittle to be useful. "Sort of like that funny Dwarf we picked up on the way to Moria," quipped Pendergast.

To everyone's amazement, Tippy was unaccountably livid over such a minor remark. "So that's what you think of me, after all I've done for you!" he cried, and turned and stormed out of the room. Baldôr went chasing after him, but Fëalókë called out, "Let him go! If he wishes to rejoin us, he may, in his own time. Otherwise we are better for the loss of his company!"

Baldôr protested, but Fëalókë insisted they not go searching for him. Lornath and Andrahil supported Fëalókë. Reluctantly Baldôr agreed, and as a group they left the barracks through the troll-hold and returned to the mouth of the cave.

Tippy, meanwhile, had also left through the troll-hold, but instead of going the to mouth of the cave, he went the opposite direction. Eventually he reached the spring that Fëalókë and Lornath had seen when they had left the room with the concealed door. He stood there, staring at the wall as the spring bubbled cheerfully and danced away down the tunnel.

Something on the wall caught his eye. He put his hand there to investigate, and suddenly the wall and the floor beneath him rotated on its axis. Tippy found himself in a small and very, very dark room. He groped around in the pitch blackness, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he stumbled upon a skeleton. Then he picked up one of its bones and tapped it against the rough walls, desperately trying to find the way out. There was none to be found.

Then he tried the floor, noticing it was very smooth, in contrast to the rough walls about him. It also dipped slightly to the centre of the room. He continued his careful search. Closer to the centre of the room he found a set of stairs and methodically inched his way down. Down four steps they went to a flat area. Here the darkness was not as deep, for Tippy could see a pedestal in the very centre of the room. Resting on it was a sphere about a foot in diameter. Reaching both hands toward it, he grabbed it.

A grey mist covered him and the room swirled about him. Tippy felt as though he had been swept off his feet and cast into a raging river. Faster and faster the mist ran in circles about him as he felt himself tumbling around and around. He was on a wild ride, with no way to get off, and no telling where he was going.

Then the mist slowed down, the tumbling stopped, and fog dissipated about him. He found himself in a dark place, a room he had seen before. A sudden terror seized his heart. His eyes went wide and his mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound came forth. He felt himself unable to move. All he could do was stare at the imposing throne before him. Sitting on it was a black robe, formed as though it was worn by a person, though no body could be seen. A silver crown floated above, seated on an invisible head. A strange and harsh voice growled in Tippy's mind.

"Have you completed your mission?" asked the Witch-King.

The question seemed to catch Tippy off guard. "I have, Master," he replied. Although he could not move, and no words came from his mouth, the terrible thing on the throne heard him.

"And was it successful?" he asked.

Tippy paused for a moment. "It was."

There was a distinct pause. "And what is your report?" asked the unseen person at last. There was a trace of mockery in the voice.

"Uhm ..."

"Fool!" shrieked the Witch-King. "You have remembered nothing and now try to hide it! But I will get the information just the same!"

A roar like an avalanche filled Tippy's mind and a searing pain ripped through his head. He tried to scream but the agony was too great. Everything he had seen since he awoke in Moria a year and a half ago rolled before his eyes. He saw Baldôr's father Balrin and with him a man with a scar over his eye. An attack on them by Orcs. He himself beating on Balrin in a frenzy. These images passed by quickly, but when later pictures with members of the party came into view, they paused, as if the Witch-King recognized them and knew who they were.

"Interesting company you have been keeping," he heard the Witch-King say in his mind over the blast of noise. Another wave of pain ripped through his skull and the volume increased. The Witch-King was probing even deeper, wrenching the memories from the Dwarf's mind. "These people have met Galadriel and are now going to visit Elrond. Why? Why?"

But try as he might, the Witch-King could not determine the reason, for the party had not let Tippy into their confidence, and the Gem had never been mentioned in his presence. After several fruitless searches through Tippy's mind he gave up. The pain in Tippy's head vanished and everything was quiet. The Witch-King rose from his throne and paced about the room. Tippy watched in terrified fascination at the sight of the robe walking around, the crown hovering above it. For several minutes it silently moved back and forth in this bizzare fashion, then sat down again on the throne.

"I should kill you for your failure!" he said. "But you will be of use to me yet! These people have something I want. Return to them! But I will be close by."

The arm on the robe came up as if to point at him, and suddenly Tippy found himself back in the black room. He lay there for several minutes, resting from his ordeal in the Witch-King's throne room. Eventually he got up and realized he now knew the way out of the room. He dashed out and ran from the cave.

Even outside in the sunlight he felt very strange. There, in the back of his mind, was the malevolent presence of the Witch-King, keeping his promise to be close by. And Tippy found himself strangely drawn to something. Try as he might to walk in any direction, he felt a great urge to go in only one. So he went that way, in a few minutes caught up with the party. Whatever was drawing him was in the possession of one of its members.

The party welcomed the Dwarf back, although some were noticeably less enthusiastic than others. Tippy was strangely changed. Where in the morning he had been generally taciturn and downright insulting to the Elves, now he was talkative and speaking of the Elves in glowing terms. Both Fëalókë and Lornath suddenly trusted him even less than they had earlier.

So they returned to where the old priest was waiting for them. He was happy to hear the troll-hold was empty. He was also unaware of the abandoned barracks, but not surprised to hear such a thing was in the vicinity.

They all returned to the priest's home, and there the party took their leave of him and continued their travels north. But they were on the road for only a few minutes when Tippy suddenly turned his horse around and rode back. The rest of them watched him go but did not follow.

The priest's house empty when Tippy returned, so he followed the path over to the bowl. The old priest was there, sitting on the altar. He looked up in surprise as the Dwarf approached.

"I would like a blessing," said Tippy, wondering to himself why he was acting this way.

The old priest looked puzzled. "A blessing? Why would you like a blessing from me?"

The question appeared to catch Tippy off guard. After several conflicting thoughts, he said, "My weapon! I would like you to bless my morningstar!"

"Your weapon?" asked the priest. "Why should I bless your weapon?"

"Why?" said Tippy, an unaccountable anger suddenly rising in him. "Because it is useful to me and my friends!"

The priest eyed Tippy suspiciously. He slowly said, "Well, then, let me see it, and I shall bless it."

Something exploded inside the Dwarf. "Yes, I'll let you see it! Look at it carefully! Look at it very closely!" And he swung it at the priest.

But the old man was quicker. He put up a hand and Tippy flew backwards. The morningstar dropped from his hands to the priest's feet.

"Baldôr and I will have your soul for the Witch-King!" cried Tippy.

"I don't think so," replied the priest. "This one is for your Master!"

Again the priest raised his hand to Tippy. Suddenly the Dwarf felt the portion of his mind occupied by the Witch-King torn from him and altogether vanish. And in his dark castle far away in Angmar, the Witch-King felt the power of the old priest's spell. Too late he was aware that he had ignored his slave for the past few hours, and before he could counterattack, lost contact with him completely.

Tippy lay on the ground in a daze, the old priest hovering over him, very concerned. The Dwarf's memories, repressed for many years by the darkness of Angmar, started flooding back. And there were terrible to recall. He remembered being bribed by a human to do scouting, and meeting the Witch-King for the first time. Then to his horror remembered killing Baldôr's father and letting the man he was with escape. And he also remembered the terrible punishment the Witch-King gave him it.

"You have been hurt badly by the Witch-King," said the priest, "and I was very fortunate to have defeated him. More fortunate, perhaps, than I deserve. I must have caught him off guard. Had he been paying attention, both you and I would have destroyed.

"I have done all I can do for you but I cannot cure you completely. But there is hope for you. Rivendell lies to the north, and there Elrond of legend can restore your mind. But you will not find the Last Lonely House on your own; the Noldo Elf is your best chance of finding it. Return to your friends, and go with my blessing."

Quickly Tippy rode back to the party, his mind all confusion. He caught up with them after a couple of miles. He rode up the line until his horse was beside Baldôr.

"I remember what happened," he said. "What happened to your father."

The mention of Baldôr's father caught his attention. "What do you know?"

"I remember I killed him." The memories of that day came flooding back and began to overwhelm him. "Yes, I killed him! I was supposed to kill them both, but I killed only your father and let the man escape. I kept hitting and hitting and hitting your father!"

"You - you killed my father?" cried Baldôr.

But Tippy continued talking, becoming more agitated with every sentence, "Then I took his morningstar from him and began beating him with it. I killed your father! I beat him with his morningstar until his armour was all dented and red with his blood. I've kept his morningstar and used it to kill orcs and trolls and hobbits and people -"

"That's my father's morningstar?" yelled Baldôr. "Give it to me! Give it to me now!"

By this time they all had stopped. Those who were at the front of the line had turned around and come back. The ones in back rode forward. The two Dwarves sat on their horses beside each other while the rest of the party made a semicircle about them.

Gavrad had been watching the exchange with growing anxiety. Even though the Dwarves had been speaking in their own tongue, it was plain they were not exchanging pleasantries. Quickly he prepared a calm spell and cast it on the two quarrelling Dwarves.

They both settled down considerably, and Tippy suddenly switched to Common. But he was no more coherent than when he had been speaking to Baldôr. "The Witch-King did this to me!" he said, his face revealing the turmoil inside him. "He told me to kill Balrin and the man with the scar over his eye. He can watch us. He uses me to follow you."

Now it was Fëalókë's turn to be upset. "You're in league with the Witch-King? Little wonder evil has befallen us every step of the way since we first met!"

"Kill him!" called Aldorn.

The Elf put his hand on Icetongue's hilt. "No, we will not kill him. But he cannot stay with us. Hand over your possessions and be gone from our company. Follow us not, or the next time we meet I shall kill you myself!"

"The Witch-King knows who you are. He will find other ways to track you," said Tippy.

"Silence!" cried Fëalókë. "You will not speak unless you are spoken to! Now remove your armour, and be quick!"

Still seated on the horse, Tippy began to take off his armour: first his helm, then his arm greaves and breastplate. But then he suddenly stopped, and pulled something out from his shirt. He looked at it, then looked at Baldôr.

"Here is your father's beard. Do you want it?"

Baldôr looked aghast at Tippy. The rage that burst upon him shattered Gavrad's calm spell, and he railed at the Dwarf seated on the horse beside him, "First you kill my father with his own weapon, then you cut off his beard, then you taunt me with it! What kind of a Dwarf are you?"

"I may be an evil Dwarf," shot back Tippy, "but I am twice the person that these snobby Elves will ever be!" He looked squarely at Fëalókë, the hatred that he and the Witch-King both felt for the Elves plainly evident. "They are by far the worst creatures ever to walk on Middle-Earth. Everything they touch is tainted, and -"

Storm clouds came over Fëalókë's face. He rode over to Tippy. "I said you were not to speak unless you were spoken to!" He closed his big hand into a fist and struck the Dwarf hard. And on the other side, Baldôr suddenly dismounted his horse and swung his father's morningstar at Tippy.

Tippy yelled in pain, then kicked at his horse and to ride away. "Your father was a weak Dwarf, Baldôr!" he cried. "He was an old weakling who had lost his strength and lost his mind! He got too greedy for silver and put his lot in with a man who was weaker than even he was! You're a fool, Baldôr, a fool and the son of a fool!"

Baldôr ran after the horse and caught Tippy by the leg, pulling him to the ground. He lay where he fell, unable to get get up. The others in the party watched helplessly as Baldôr took took careful aim with his father's weapon and with one mighty swing silenced the Dwarf forever.

"My father is avenged!" he called. "The one who murdered him now is dead himself."

Everyone was quiet for a few minutes, not knowing what to say or do. Eventually Gavrad broke the uneasy silence. "Should we bury the body?" he asked.

"Leave it there for the crows to eat!" growled Baldôr. "He deserves no better!"

Fëalókë looked at him. "Your family's honour is avenged fully by Tippy's death," he said. "It will not be avenged further by doing indignities to his body. There are many stones here. Let us bury him under them, as we did for Olaf."

Over Baldôr's protests, the rest of the party gathered stone together. They built a foundation and laid Tippy's body on it, then piled stones over it. Then Baldôr at last joined in, placing the beard of his father on top. Then they laid more stones over it to complete the cairn.

As they were finishing their work, the old priest suddenly came down the path. He looked around, saw the cairn, and quickly realized what had happened. "I was afraid it would end this way for him," he said.

"What do ye mean?" asked Gavrad.

"Is there something you know that we don't?" Andrahil joined in.

So the old priest sat down by the cairn and he told what he knew of Tippy's life: his greed and corruption, his domination by the Witch-King, and the events at the altar earlier in the afternoon. He told them of the black globe in the hidden room and of Tippy's recent conversation with the evil one in Angmar.

"Then I'm glad we didn't let him into our complete confidence," said Fëalókë.

"Strange you should mention that," said the old priest. "When I cast the Witch-King from the poor Dwarf's mind, I saw your face practically burned into it. Now why would the Witch-King take such an interest in you?"

"I am a Noldo Elf," Fëalókë replied. "We have been the Witch-King's enemy ever since he set up his realm."

"No, he has more interest than that in you. Why is someone so powerful so interested in you and what you do? You people are not that important."

"Whether or not we are that important," said Fëalókë stiffly, "if we fail in our mission, the very foundations of Middle-Earth will be shaken. That is all I shall say."

Gavrad spoke up. "Before we go on, we should determine if there be any more evil on Tippy's things." He cast a detect curse on the Dwarf's equipment. After several minutes he declared he could not find any curse on it.

Pendergast cast a detect evil on the same lot of equipment and said he felt the shield was either made by an evil person or was intended to be used by one. He examined it further.

"Interesting," he said. "This shield is very tough - it probably would not break in battle. And look! See here, a Red Tower - that's the symbol of Angmar. It seems to be part of the shield itself, and not merely painted on."

Lornath asked, "Even though it was made by an evil person, would the evil affect the person using it?"

"Not in my opinion," replied Pendergast.

"I'd like to use it," said Lornath.

Andrahil did not like the idea. "We do not want to be noticed. That red tower on the shield draws attention to it."

"Throw it down a gully," said Fëalókë.

"But it's a good shield," Lornath protested. "Better than the one I have now. Why not cover the red tower over at the next town?"

"Again," said Andrahil, "we don't want to be noticed. An armourer would notice it right away and start to ask questions. Better to buy enamel in town and do the job ourselves."

"Let's do that, then," said Lornath. "That way I'll get a better shield."

That decided, they set out again. Here the trail was good, as good as they had seen since leaving Moria. They made excellent time. Some time after mid-afternoon Gavrad rode over to the old priest. Nudging him a couple of times to wake him up, he asked if he knew of any good camping places up ahead.

"You've come a long way," said the priest, looking about him to determine just where they were. "Ah, yes, now I know where we are. Whenever I travel to the town, it takes me two days, so I have to sleep in the open overnight. The place where I sleep is about four hour's journey ahead. If we make as good progress on the horses as we just did, we should reach it before the sun goes down."

So they travelled on. Now the priest made an effort to stay awake so he could find his camping spot. Just as the sun was beginning to set, the priest called out he had found it. He led the party off the trail and through a narrow gully to a small hollow.

"Will someone be going in there to check this place out?" asked Gavrad.

"Sure," said Aldorn, and carefully checked over the site and the walls of the ravine. He found something he did not like, and called Andrahil over for a second opinion. Andrahil went over the territory again.

"It looks like an Orc scout climbed down the walls, walked through the camp, and climbed out again," he said. "Probably within the last day or so."

"Then we should keep a careful watch," said Fëalókë. "Lornath is carrying caltrops on his horse; we will lay those out. My biggest fear is an ambush coming from above." He pointed to the walls of the bowl, which ended a few feet over his head.

They set the caltrops out before the sun disappeared. The while the rest of the party prepared for sleep, Fëalókë and Andrahil hid and kept watch.

About two hours after dark they saw lights and heard singing. Andrahil recognized the language of the Dunlendings: a band of nine was travelling southward by night. They were singing a wild song, each one making up a verse, then all joining in the chorus. Andrahil left the protection of the bowl, stealthily made his way over to the party, then joined in the singing. All the others were so drunk they did not realize another person had joined them. Andrahil contributed another verse, enjoyed a shot of their liquor, stole a wineskin, then returned to his friends. They watched the torches disappear into the night.

Lornath relieved Andrahil on the next watch. An hour later, five huge cave trolls stomped by, armed with clubs, and rocks. One carried a huge axe. The trolls obviously were following the trail of the Dunlendings. Intent as they were on the chase, they failed to notice the party camped about two hundred feet from them. As soon as they had disappeared from sight, the two Elves woke the rest of the party to discuss their situation.

"They were heading out, and it is still early," said Fëalókë. "They will be coming back, and this time they won't have the Dunlendings to distract them. There's a lot better chance we'll be noticed. We simply do not have the resources to take on five cave trolls."

"We should leave - now!" said Baldôr.

"Why not track our way back to their cave?" asked Andrahil. "We could plunder it and be gone before they get back. We may even be able to lock them out of their cave and have them turn to stone!"

"That may work," said Fëalókë. "But we had better hope we get out before they return. And they tend to work together with orcs. We may have to fight a horde of them as well as the trolls."

"But," said Aldorn, "they came from the north. We're heading that way. If we track our way back along their trail we'll be heading in the proper direction."

"Let's take the road North," said Baldôr, "and get out of here as quickly as we can. We should put as much distance as we can between us and them before they come back."

"The road is likely to be watched by Orcs," Andrahil replied. "If we do leave, we'll be better off on the troll trail. Less chance of being ambushed. We'll track our way north, but be ready to abandon the search if it gets too tough."

"I've got a few spells that can help you," said the old priest. "I should be able to slow them down."

Baldôr still did not like the idea, but the rest of the party seemed willing at least to try and find the troll's cave. They all agreed they should leave the campsite before the trolls came back. So they broke camp and set out in single file, leading their horses: Fëalókë up front, followed by Andrahil, the old priest, Aldorn, Pendergast, Gavrad, and Baldôr. Lornath took the rear, watching as much as he could behind him.

With the aid of a spell, Andrahil picked up the trolls' track and followed it. In the dark, hampered by the humans' inability to see, it took them a couple of hours to make significant progress. The trail turned east and they followed it. Suddenly Pendergast called a halt.

"I have a three hundred foot radius nature's awareness spell going," he explained. "I just noticed a couple of orcs up ahead."

"I said there would they orcs," said Fëalókë.

"And what's behind them?" asked Baldôr. "A thousand more orcs? A couple more trolls?"

"I dunna know," said Gavrad. "I would call up a bat, but me amulet is good only a hundred feet out. We're two hundred feet too far."

The old priest spoke up. "I'll use an intuitions spell to figure out what what may happen if I go charging up there."

He went into a trance for three minutes. When he woke up, he said, "In my vision, I ran up the hill, cast a light spell to confuse the sentries, and charged inside the cave. I went about fifty feet down a curved corridor into a large room with a dozen orcs in it. I fought with them for about a minute and half, parrying with my quarterstaff and casting protection spells until they finally killed me."

"Did ye see anything else in the room?" asked Gavrad.

"There were a couple of other rooms there, one locked, the other with no door. No orcs came out from them."

"Were you hit by any arrows?" Fëalókë asked.

The priest paused for a moment, then replied, "No, there were no arrows."

"All right," replied the Elf. "I will take one of the sentries and Andrahil will kill the other. When we start fighting, the rest of the party can come charging up the hill. The orcs inside should hear the cries of the sentries and come running out. We can fight them in the corridor."

"This is madness!" said Baldôr. "We could all be killed by the trolls when they return!"

"We can take out the orcs with no problem," said Andrahil. "The fight will be very brief. We should have plenty of time to search the caves before the trolls get back."

Andrahil and Fëalókë carefully sneaked up the hill and worked their way behind the two sentries. The Elf pulled out the knife given him by Galadriel, which glowed brightly as he and Andrahil carefully approached the orcs from behind. Then they attacked. Andrahil's morningstar killed his orc instantly. Fëalókë gave a savage blow to the other orc, and the knife also seemed to deliver a powerful electrical charge. The orc survived the first assault, but before it could react Fëalókë attacked again and killed it. The rest of the party climbed the hill to join them.

"Your plan was only partially successful," Gavrad observed. "You two killed your orcs so efficiently the others inside still dinna know wha' happened.

"Let's send someone in to insult them," suggested Andrahil. "Hopefully they'll come running out and we can ambush them in the corridor."

"Andrahil could try singing," said Gavrad.

"An Elf would be better," Andrahil replied. "Orcs simply hate the Elves. Lornath?"

"Sure! I'll be happy to deliver a few choice lines in Silvan!" said the young Elf.

So they set up an ambush in the corridor, then Lornath walked around the corner. In the room beyond the could see several Orcs. Suddenly he called out in Silvan, "Your feet stink and your mother was a hamster!"

The Orcs looked up at him in stunned silence. Lornath pulled out his sword and waved it in the air, yelling at them. That got the desired response: as one they all pulled scimitars and charged. Lornath turned tail and ran back around the corner, the orcs in hot pursuit. They rounded the corner and ran into the waiting ambush: Fëalókë, Andrahil, and Baldôr in front and weapons ready, the others behind them, just as well prepared.

The first orc tried to attack Andrahil, but the Man struck out with his morningstar and stunned it. A second orc jumped for Fëalókë. The Elf stabbed at it with the knife of Galadriel and it collapsed unconscious. Another orc behind that one jumped at the Elf, giving him a minor wound. A fourth orc joined the fray, running toward Baldôr, who wounded it heavily with a quick orbit of his morningstar.

The spell casters - Pendergast, the old priest, and Aldorn - let loose the spells they had been preparing since Lornath had insulted the Orcs. One orc fell asleep. A wall of water suddenly appeared behind the orcs, cutting off their escape.

Fëalókë and Andrahil attacked and wounded the orcs that had just engaged them, Fëalókë severing off a hand and Andrahil breaking the sword-arm of his match. Gavrad got into the action and poked his spear at that Orc. An arrow flew from Lornath's bow and hit another orc further back. Baldôr's morningstar was deflected by some quick shield-work on the part of the orc he was attacking: the weapon bounced back and hit the Dwarf hard in the chest. Laughing, the orc hit him with his scimitar, bruising him.

"Laugh at me, will you?" growled the Dwarf. "You can laugh at this!" He swung again and smashed the orc's leg. Its laughter turned into a scream as the orc collapsed to the floor. Baldôr struck again and it stopped screaming.

The orc whose arm Andrahil had just broken received another blow from him, and then another. The heavy head of the morningstar crashed into the orc's helm. It fell. The morningstar bounced back and hit Andrahil hard in the ribs.

Fëalókë killed the Orc whose hand he had just cut off. Watching him, the old priest said to the Elf, "That's quite the knife! I'd to look at it when we're done here."

"I will be doing the same thing," replied Fëalókë. "It has some remarkable properties that I would like to investigate."

Another orc jumped in to attack the Elf, missed, and suddenly felt Gavrad's spear inside him. Fëalókë struck again and the Orc crumpled in a heap at his feet. Another joined the battle, lunging for Baldôr. The Dwarf struck it twice with his morningstar, and Lornath killed it with a well-aimed arrow.

The one Orc that up to now had not joined in the battle turned to flee and ran into the old priest's waterwall. Desperately he tried to go through, but the wall pushed him back. Aldorn shot it with a crossbow bolt. Fëalókë jumped over the bodies of the two orcs he had killed and ran over to its position. Two quick stabs with the Elven-knife and that orc, too, fell dead.

"Careful, now, things are going to get a little wet," said the old priest. He let go his spell. With a great splash the wall collapsed and water ran an inch deep through the corridor to the outside.

At Gavrad's suggestion, Lornath went outside, hid, and watched for trolls. While Fëalókë was frisking the Orcs, others entered the main hall. The door was the first item of business. Fifteen feet high it was, and ten wide, made of wood and bound with iron. A lock was built into it, with a wheel mounted in the centre of the door

"These trolls are no fools," announced Fëalókë, entering the room. "They did not leave the key to that door with the orcs."

"I'm taking care of the lock," Pendergast announced from his position by the fire. "I'm making a little something here that will blast it out of the door."

"Well, while you're blasting away at the lock," said Andrahil, "we'll check out the other corridor." He and Baldôr each grabbed a brand from the fire and walked down the hall. Fifty feet down it forked. They went left and entered a large hall.

Four orcs came into view of the torches and and drew their swords. The Man and the Dwarf fell back, yelling for the fighters. Fëalókë and Gavrad heard their cries, grabbed weapons, and came running. Pendergast called for Lornath on watch outside, who grabbed his bow and came running. At the battle site Pendergast quickly cast a projected light spell to illuminate the area.

In the front line, Andrahil took a hit to the head from an Orc-sword and fell back, bleeding heavily from a cut to his eye. Arriving on the scene, Fëalókë moved him out of the battle, then joined it himself, killing the Orc who had just done injury to the man. Lornath ran in with his bow and shot into the crowd of Orcs, hitting one. The Orcs struck back, hitting Fëalókë and Baldôr. In the back an Uruk came into view and began shouting orders.

Pendergast pulled out a sunburst and cast it into the crowd of Orcs. It exploded in a brilliant flash and several of them fell. The old priest arrived, noticed Andrahil clutching at his face, and cast a healing spell to save his eye. The Uruk came forward to join the battle, savagely hitting Fëalókë with his broadsword and cutting him deeply in the side. Gavrad finally arrived, and noticing Fëalókë bleeding heavily, grabbed a phaculus leaf and gave it to him. The Elf held it there long enough to stop the bleeding, drank a draught of the vinuk tea, snatched an orc shield, then attacked the Uruk. The battle ended moments later when Andrahil killed it with his morningstar.

Pendergast's sunburst had caused a great deal of damage: all told, it put four Orcs out of the battle altogether. Despite his injuries, Fëalókë had killed three. Andrahil had killed another Orc in addition to the Uruk, but also had been hurt. Three mirenna berries from Gavrad healed him. Baldôr had managed to kill one Orc, but had been badly bruised in the fight. Gavrad brought him back to health with a couple of rewk teas, a mirenna berry, and a healing spell from Lornath.

They killed the unconscious Orcs, then investigated the area. The room appeared to be the orcs' dormitory. Sleeping pallets were strewn all over, enough for nineteen Orcs, and the Uruk's bed. The take was twelve silver pieces and a tiny semiprecious gem of a purplish hue that Pendergast appraised at five gold pieces. The Uruk had a small pouch containing a smattering of coins and an emerald worth about ten gold pieces.

While Lornath returned to his watch outside, they party checked the other passage. It ended in a store room with barrels, one of which was open and contained a vile liquor.

They returned to the main room, where Aldorn cast an opening spell on the locked door. He heard a clicking sound, but nothing happened. He grabbed the wheel on the door but could not turn it. Andrahil went outside to relieve Lornath on watch, then Lornath returned to try his luck with the lock. He studied the lock carefully for traps and found nothing. Then he tried to open it but failed completely. So he returned to his watch outside.

Next Andrahil tried and failed.

Meanwhile Pendergast had been by the fire pit, cooking up a localized destruction potion. He poured it inside the lock, then waited a moment for it to react. And react it did, spitting steam and smoke out the lock. The metal plate on the outside drooped and distorted. Fëalókë and Andrahil tried to open the wheel by brute force and failed.

Pendergast cooked up another localized destruction and poured it into the lock. This one was more powerful, boiling and bubbling away with great vigour. Fëalókë and Andrahil were able spin the great wheel and slide back the bolt. Andrahil swung back the door. Suddenly a spear fired forth from inside, narrowly missing Fëalókë.

Carefully Fëalókë, Andrahil, and Baldôr, Pendergast and the priest entered the corridor beyond. Forward it went twenty feet before turning right into a corridor some seventy feet long. Forty feet down this corridor a room had been cut on the right that seemed to be for storage and eating. The bedroom was at the far end. Five beds were there, each with a small chest. Andrahil checked the room for traps, finding nothing. Fëalókë unsuccessfully searched the walls for secret doors.

After a careful search back at the spear trap, Andrahil discovered how to open it to reveal its mechanism. A brief discussion followed; they decided not to try to re-arm it. So they hauled the five boxes outside and tied them on to the horses. Then they led the horses, for they were too heavily loaded to ride, on the trail to the road. All kept a careful watch on the terrain about them until the sun rose behind them and they reached the main road.

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They opened the second chest the same way; it, too, was trapped with a dart. Inside were a shining polished steel breastplate and backplate with arm and leg greaves. So finely wrought was its construction that it weighed but fifteen pounds. A similar set of armour would weigh nearly twenty-five. It was too large for Baldôr, so they gave it to Andrahil. Also in the chest were eight Arthedanian gold pieces.

Another chest and another dart. This one held 140 silver pieces, copper too numerous to bother counting, and a short recurved bow with a quiver of arrows. Pendergast determined bow was good (+10) and the arrows were normal.

The fourth chest was swiftly opened. Inside were hundreds of tin pieces and a pair of rubies that Pendergast valued at 20 and 50 gold respectively. He found no magic in them at all. The tin pieces they dumped out and sorted through. Lornath found a small silver ring in the pile. After examining it, Pendergast said that while the silver itself was worth about three silver pieces, the ring contained a channeling magic that improved the ability of a person to cast healing spells. This was given to Gavrad.

Fifth chest had a pouch containing ten Arthedanian gold pieces, a coil of rope with a small folding grapple on the end. Lornath saw it and called out in excitement, "This was made in Greenwood! Spider silk it is, and see here: its strands have been strung through the eye of the grapple and worked back into the rope a full arm's length."

All the boxes were now empty. Leaving them and most of the coins behind, they mounted their horses and rode onward to the town. At one point on the road Andrahil and Lornath discovered the remains of a passage or Orcs. They were heading the opposite direction. Perhaps it was a troop from the Troll-hold they had just plundered. In any event, the party and the orcs were heading in opposite directions, so they travelled on. Later they caught up with four teenaged boys herding sheep along the road, and passed them on one side.

The town finally came into view in the late afternoon. It was a small farming village, offering but one tavern with rooms that afforded rest for the party. Its fortifications were simple: a ditch had been dug around the town and the dirt thrown up to form a simple defense perimeter. The priest said Fel, the blacksmith, was the closest thing the town had for a guard. He also recommended the town healer to Gavrad, saying he would be visiting her and saying she should expect him to call. With that he dismounted the horse, collected his belongings, and said goodbye to the party.

The party headed for the inn. Aldorn and Andrahil entered. Placing a single gold piece on the bar, Andrahil announced loudly enough for all to hear, "Drinks for all!" Quickly the bartender drew drinks enough for every one there, then asked him what he wanted. "Rooms and board for me and seven friends, and stables for our horses," replied Andrahil. The barman called for assistance, and two older teens appeard to care for the horses. Andrahil gave each a copper and told the boys to make sure the horses were well groomed.

That evening Aldorn entertained the crowd with his story of the party's first attack on a troll-hold, a tale he had been refining since Dunlostír. Andrahil kept Aldorn's beer mug filled. Pendergast, as usual, supplied special effects by a light mirage spell. It was received with tremendous applause, so Aldorn launched into the tale of the assualt on the Orc hold in the barn north of Dunlostír. That story, too, was well received, but when it was over the bartender led the bard to a table and sat him down.

Fëalókë asked for Fel, for he wished to speak with him, and suddenly the man was there. He sat down at the table, and the Elf proceeded to quiz the blacksmith about the village's defence force, then told him about the five cave trolls residing less than a day's walk to the south. The town was probably in danger from them, he said, and suggested the party and a posse of townfolk search them out and kill them. Fel asked if a dozen good archers would be useful, and Fëalókë said they would be.

"I would be more willing to round up a militia if you people were with us to help us fight," said Fel.

"We would be willing," Fëalókë replied. "But we cannot delay more than a day, two at the most. We have an important mission that needs to be tended to."

"Good," said Fel, "I'll send runners out to get people in here from the outlying areas."

A tall heavy man, lightly dressed, approached the table. "I hear you need someone to help you fight," he said.

"Bairagläth, welcome!" said Fel. "So good of you to come!" He turned to the rest of the party. "This is Bairagläth. He moved here a few months back. I'm not sure where he came from, but he's been a great help around town whenever there was work to be done." Then he turned back to the stanger. "I'll let you get acquainted with these travellers, and they can fill you in on what we're planning. I'll go get a few more fighters together." And he got up and left, leaving an empty chair. Fëalókë invited Bairagläth to sit down.

He was a big man, nearly covered over with reddish hair. But his voice was gentle, and he spoke of being a farmer and collecting herbs and greens. Fëalókë asked him if he had ever seen a troll before. No, replied the man, but he would fight one if he had to defend his home.

Fel returned with more men. He motioned them all to sit down, then stood up and called all present to arms to defend the village of their fathers. For one who had earlier denied having military experience, it was a good speech, and quickly all in the room were ready to go and fight. He was almost finished when he was interrupted from the door. Several women had entered the bar, and their leader went straight to Fel.

"What are you up to now?" she demanded of the blacksmith.

"Defending our home, dear," he replied to his wife. And he gave his speech again. When it was over, most of the women joined the militia, nearly doubling their numbers and adding considerably to the count of those who could handle a bow. In all they had five spears, thirteen longbows, and the healer.

The party sorted through their inventory and allotted what weapons and armour they could to some of the locals. Fel had a simple set of metal armour to wear, and others had leather armour of their own.

"We will not head out tonight," said Fel. "We have a watch on the dike, and a bell loud enough to raise the dead. If the trolls attack tonight we will be ready. If the night is quiet, we will search them out tomorrow and attack. I thank you all for your help, the weapons, and your skill in battle." And he dismissed them all to their homes.

Pendergast retired to his room to prepare another sunburst. That done, he asked Fëalókë if he could see the knife he had received from Galadriel. He examined it carefully, as he had done before, and said the knife appeared to give a good jolt of electricity to the victim. That much they already knew. Fëalókë, Aldorn, and Gavrad examined it in turn, Gavrad deducing the knife carried a lot of channeling magic. But beyond that they discovered nothing they alreay knew.

At length the humans retired to bed. The two elves rested, then joined the watch on the dike. Fel was right about the bell the town had for warning for danger. Four feet tall it was and three wide, hanging from a wooden structure built on the dike. A sentry stood beside it. In addition to his bow, he had a large sledgehammer for sounding the bell.

The village slept uneasily, but the night was uneventful.

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Guided Tour

Two hours out they met the scouts returning from the south. "We found the place on the road where the strangers left the coins," they reported. "They were pretty well cleaned up and the chests were gone. We think they collected their hoards and returned to their lair."

"So what do we do now?" asked Fel. "Run to the hold today and risk attacking an empty lair, leaving the village undefended?"

"We should return to the village," said Fëalókë. "The Trolls are likely to follow our trail to your home and attack."

"Then we should continue with our original plan," Fel replied. "We will hunt until midday, then return home."

They sent the scouts on ahead again and continued their march. Two hours later two of the scouts returned. "Our leader believes the trolls did return to their hold. He is checking more closely and sent us back to report."

"We'll return home now," said Fel. "We can't reach the lair by evening. Perhaps they will try to attack us tonight. If they do we'll be ready."

It took a few minutes to get the rag-tag militia turned around. They walked back to the village. It was evening when they arrived, and the ladies had prepared a supper for them. The elder scout returned, reporting he had tracked the trolls back to their hold.

Night fell. The people settled uneasily to bed and Lornath joined the sentries on the dike. Bairagläth slipped out of the village.

The first watch passed uneventfully. For the middle watch, when the trolls would be most likely to appear, Fëalókë joined the watch on the dike. The night was fair and the stars were out, so the elves could see far. About two in the morning Lornath caught movement on the horizon. He called to Fëalókë. Both elves watched intently for a minute, finally confirming five large shapes trotting down the road to the village.

"Trolls!" both Elves cried together. The sentry at the bell paused for a moment, the picked up the hammer and stuck it a mighty blow. An intensly loud and deep boom rolled over the village. In moments men and women armed for battle poured from every house. They congregated at the south side of the town, dividing into four groups, two on either side of the road. On the dike were the fighters, with the archers behind the protective wall.

"Get back behind the dike!" called Fëalókë. "Those trolls are carrying large rocks and we are too exposed here!" Fel echoed the order and the fighters scrambled back down the dike. Pendergast lobbed his tarpit onto the road while The old priest cast a barrier pit spell. A large hole appeared in the road just inside the village.

The trolls ran past Bairagläth's hiding place and toward the village. The old priest cast a woodwall spell and the barrier pit received a wooden cover. The trolls ran closer, still carrying their rocks. Fëalókë motioned for everyone to hold their positions, but Andrahil suddenly jumped on the road to attract the trolls' fire.

They stopped short fifty feet from the ditch. "Ah, little fellow!" the leader grinned, and lobbed the rock he was carrying at Andrahil. The man ducked. The rock flew overhead and bounced on the road behind him. The second and third trolls fumbled badly and barely managed to keep a hold on their stones. The fourth and fifth trolls threw their rocks just missed their target.

"Hold your positions!" called Fëalókë. "There are still three rocks out there!"

The first troll had a second rock. He moved closer, took aim, and threw it. As it sailed toward Andrahil, Pendergast cast the deflections spell he had been preparing. The rock bounced off an invisible barrier, jumped to left and landed outside the perimeter of the village. Another rock flew by and Andrahil dodged it. The last one whizzed in. Andrahil dived and rolled to the right, narrowly escaping it.

"We hit him!" cheered the trolls, and one of the trolls happily slapped the back of the one who had thrown last rock on the back.

"Now!" called Fëalókë, and the warriors scrambled up the dike. The archers swarmed on to the road from both sides and took up positions. One of the spearmen ran on to the road in front of the old priest's barrier pit.

"These things are huge!" cried Fel, seeing for the first time in his life a fifteen foot tall troll.

"Now you know how a horseshoe feels on the anvil," Fëalókë replied.

The five trolls noticed the sudden activity and their laughter turned to anger as they realized they had walked into a trap. The one in front charged through Pendergast's tar pit toward the lone spearman and stepped squarely on priest's covered tarp. There was a great crash and the troll was in the pit, his head and shoulders above the ground.

The second troll rushed in and swung at Fel, missing him. In came two others, swinging at Baldôr who was defending the other side of the dike. They missed. The fifth troll ran to the dike, swung his club at Fëalókë and missed also. The Elf noticed a bear running up the road behind the trolls.

Fëalókë stabbed a troll deeply in the chest with Galadriel's knife. It fell backwards, dead, the knife still glowing brightly in its chest. Pendergast cast a light mirage of an empty hilltop, and Baldôr suddenly disappeared from the view of the troll that was attacking him. It looked about itself in bewilderment.

Fel struck a troll with his war hammer. "Solid bastards!" he commented. Arrows flew in and spearmen jabbed: the remaining trolls all were hit. The old priest cast a third spell and one of the trolls slumped to the ground, fast asleep. The air around the troll that attacked Fel began to churn and roil, the result of a spell from Gavrad.

With a mighty growl the bear that had mysteriously appeared on the scene leaped at the troll that was looking for Baldôr through Pendergast's light mirage. Claws extended, it met the troll square in the face, slashed fiercely, and dropped back to the ground. The troll began screaming and flailing about in pain. Baldôr whacked it with his morningstar and it fell forward, dead, pinning the dwarf underneath.

The second set of archers shot the troll threatening their leader, while the spearmen concentrated on the one laying stunned in the pit until Lornath shot and killed it. The bear turned to attack the troll that was still threatening Fel, and it, too, fell to the ground.

Fëalókë, Andrahil, and Fel walked over to the sleeping troll. In a few moments it awakened, jumped up, bellowed and raised its club over its head. The bear swiped at it and jumped back, Fëalókë slashed it with Galadriel's knife, Pendergast cast a confusion spell, Andrahil cracked it with his morningstar, and the village's lead archer shot and killed it.

The villagers looked about them in silence for a moment, surprised they had killed all five trolls so quickly. Then they let out a great shout and for the next several minutes whooped and hollered in celebration. The bear stood up on its hind feet, rasied its front paws, and suddenly shrunk down to human size. There before the astonished crowd stood Bairagläth, quite naked, shouting along with the rest of them. He celebrated for a couple of minutes, then returned to his hiding hole to collect his robe.

The tavern had an overflow crowd and the staff served drinks inside and outside the establishment. In the midst of it all the two elves quietly withdrew and made a circuit of the town on the dike, making sure the trolls had not brought any orcs with them.

The party ran for over an hour, then the townsfolk got busy with horses and tackle to remove the bodies. The one in the hole was still alive but unconscious, and when the sun rose the next morning it turned to stone where it lay, and the hole was filled in. But ever after there was a bump in the road at that spot, and the townsfolk never tired of telling the story of how it got there, and of the seven strangers who had come to their rescue when they needed it most.

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Pendergast prepared another tar pit. That done to his satisfaction, he visited Fel and asked him of he had anything that might be of use for his alchemical work. Fel said he really worked only with metals: copper, tin, iron, and the like, but he had something he said he would like Pendergast to look at. Disappearing into a back room, he returned moment later with a small ingot. It was a silvery metal, but not silver. Mixed with plain iron, said Fel, it created a resiliant alloy that could be bent, although with effort, and resisted rust. He said his wife liked the pots he had made for her from the alloy.

The metal fascinated Pendergast, but he could recall no reference to such a substance. Even the Dwarves could not make a metal that could not rust, he said. But such a substance would not be useful to him. Fel recommended Pendergast visit the thatcher, for he would have substances like pitchblend. The old wizard thanked the smith and headed off to see the thatcher.

That visit was more productive, and for six silver pieces he sold Pendergast a small keg containing some eighty ounces of pitch tar. "This will be useful for my tar pits and sunbursts," he said.

"I saw your tar pit last night," said the thatcher, "but what's a sunburst?"

"It's a neat thing that explodes when you throw it!" crowed the wizard.

"Explodes, now, does it?" the thatcher replied. "Well here, let me show you this." He led Pendergast to his storage shed. He produced a small urn containing a light, clear liquid. "This is a byproduct of the process I use to get my pitch," he said. "It explodes on contact with flame. I've tried to make lamps that use this, but they all get destroyed. If you want some, I'll make up a batch for you. But it will take some time - tomorrow, probably."

"I can wait until tomorrow," the wizard replied. And he and the thatcher spent the remainder of the day making a new batch of pitch and the clear byproduct. (In today's terms, the thatcher was separating crude oil into tar and naphtha. Pendergast ended up with several ounces of naphtha.)

Pendergast passed the time waiting for the processing to complete by reading the alchemical books he had brought along with him. In there he stumbled over a description of the silvery metal Fel had been trying to work with. The book called it nickel, and said it would create a rust resistant steel if it was mixed with carbon and iron in the smelting process.

Gavrad paid a visit to the herablist: she was interested in the kelventari berries. She had anserke (apply directly, stops bleeding in thirty seconds) and traded the three kelventari berries for one dose. A second dose would be 75 gold, too expensive for the party purse. They had tea together, then said good-day.

Aldorn spent the day inscribing two holding song spells onto rune paper.

While Gavrad spent the evening outside with his pet lynx Kyrna, the rest of the party relaxed at the tavern. Aldorn and Bairagläth briefly competed for a barmaid's attention; she was polite but turned them both down. Bairagläth sat down at the table with the rest of the party.

"I've been here for a few months," he told them, gazing intently at each in turn. His manner was quiet, thoughtful. "My fiance was captured by slavers in a raid at her farm. I've been waiting for the weather to improve before going to search for her. But I'm tired of the quiet. There's really nothing to do here. It sounds like you've have adventures."

"We have," replied Fëalókë, understanding what the Beorning was trying to say. "We lost a member of our group the other day - a sad experience for us all. We could use someone with your" - he paused for a moment, wondering if it was prudent to remind the crowd of the shape-shifting incident the night before - "your talents."

"I understand," the big man replied. "Changing back from a bear in front of everyone may have been dramatic, but the since then the people here have acted strangely toward me. I may have worn out my welcome."

"Then join us!" said Lornath. "We both gain. We have an extra horse, so you can ride along."

"Thank you for your offer," the Beorning replied, and they celebrated his joining the party with some drinks. They all spent the night at the inn.

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Week 10: Journey to Rivendell

Week 8: Journey to Moria

MERP Campaign #1: Index

MERP Campaign #2: Index

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