Middle-Earth Role Playing Campaign

There were twenty people in all, separated into two parties. The first group, the one intending to escape south across the plain of Angmar, consisted of Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn, Bauglir, the Elves Araquenval and Dennenor, Luinár and Mîriel, and Bradlegar the Halfling. Zaid, Eklath and his four men, and the seven men who had been there the longest made up the second party; they planned to journey west to the border with Arthedain.

"Where's the Dwarf?" asked Bradlegar.

"He left early this morning," said Dennenor. "He seeks still the silver mine that took the life of his father. I knew him from before I was captured: he arrived in Imladris with a party of great Elves and Men, carrying with them a mighty Gem that had been forged in Ost-In-Edhil. In the library at Imladris he consulted maps of Middle-Earth, to match his map that showed the location of the mine."

"So he has gone to seek his fortune," said Luinár. "May he find it safely."

"We will take the chance of getting food and supplies from various camps in Angmar," said Eklath. "That way you can take the largest portion of the food."

"Good," said Dennenor. "We have both greatbread and iron rations. We should put some of the food on to the Periannath's pony some of it on to a mule. In that way, we will have food in case one of the animals runs away."

So the first group put its greatbread on to Sara and the iron rations on to a mule. And when at last everything was ready, they left the slate mine and walked in single file down the trail, leading Sara and some of the mules.

The trail ran west for a quarter mile, then turned south and made its way through a long series of treeless hills and barren dales, heading ever downward as it dropped out of the mountains to the main road. The wind was still strong and cold, howling with a peculiar noise that chilled as much as the temperature. Eight hours they travelled in the cold through the stark and lonely territory, resting twice along the way, until in the mid-afternoon they came within sight of the road.

They sent Rhôn and Bradlegar on ahead to check things out, and they reported everything was clear. So the group crossed the last boggy ditch on the trail, scrambled up the slope, and stepped on to the road. It was a well-built raised highway that ran across Angmar from east to west, just south of the mountain range that defined the evil kingdom's northern limits. They could not help but see it was paved with slate, the output of their toil at the mine. And it was empty: no travellers were using it.

So they ventured forth westward upon the road. On the plain to the south of them herds of losren deer, cariou, and musk-oxen could be seen. A hundred yards from where they came upon the road a trail was found that headed south. Araquenval, Rhôn, and Bauglir checked it out.

"A number of horsemen left the road here and headed south a few days ago," said Bauglir. "The hoof-marks are small; doubtless these were Easterlings."

"Shall we follow this trail?" asked Dennenor.

"I think it presents as good an opportunity as we're going to get," said Mîriel.

"So now we part and go our separate ways," said Eklath. "It has been good working with you to now. Perhaps we will see you again one day in Arthedain and we can share our adventures over a mug of ale. They will probably seem a lot less dangerous a year or two after we've been through them."

"And I will serve you a real meal one day when you come to visit me," said Zaid.

"Where are you going?" asked Mîriel.

"I don't know yet," the Haradrim replied. "Wherever these crazy guys go!"

The former quarry slaves thanked the group profusely. "Until you arrived, we had given up hope of ever leaving that place," said one. "We are not capable of the great deeds you have done these past two days. But thanks to you and your work, we now have our freedom!"

"Just don't squander it," said Mîriel.

Luinár took Eklath aside. "Don't trust that Southerner," she said.

"I don't really trust foreigners that much myself," Eklath replied. "But Zaid seems a good enough sort--he doesn't seem to see too much beyond his pots and pans. But we'll keep an eye on him."

"He seems the type that would change sides pretty easily, when it's to his advantage," Luinár added. "Good luck!"

And with that, Eklath, his four men, Zaid, and the seven commoners headed westward on the road. Rhôn, Araquenval, Mîriel, Luinár, Bradlegar, Bauglir, and Dennenor carefully left the road, taking the trail the Easterlings had made a few days before. After getting Sara and the mule on to the trail, they covered up their tracks.

The plain was barren and flat, treeless and almost devoid of grass. Mosses clung precariously to expose granite rocks. Out on the plain the wind was worse than before; it howled and shrieked about them, forcing the cold through their robes and tunics. They walked the rest of the day across the wasteland, and as the sun sank in the west they started searching for an appropriate campsite. But even as they did so, Luinár noticed three horsemen approaching from the west. The archers quickly strung their bows and the spell casters prepared sleeping spells.

The riders approached and drew up short of the party outside arrow range. One of them began shouting, but they could not make out his words. Then he switched to Westron. "You! Come here! Show paper, or we kill you!"

Araquenval responded with a threat of his own. "You are threatening messengers of the Witch-King! For that you will die!"

The riders glanced doubtfully at each other, then turned their horses around and galloped away.

"Obviously he wasn't quite as brave as his words may have sounded," Mîriel observed.

"Not time to celebrate yet," said Bauglir. "If they come back with three hundred of their kind, they won't be quite so easily cowed. Perhaps we should put a bit of distance between us and this particular spot."

So instead of carrying on south, they turned and headed west, hoping to throw the trail. Still they could find no suitable camping spot. Before the light failed them altogether, they pitched their tents up against a large area covered with waist high gorse plants. Rhôn and Luinár searched for medicinal plants, but the deepening night made it difficult and they found nothing.

"Now that we have settled down," said Mîriel once they had pitched their tents, "we should figure out how to set up for a fight the next time we are stopped. There was a lot of stuttering around when we met those three riders."

"The spell-casters should have someone to protect them," said Bauglir. "If the fighters and the spell casters pair off, when a fight comes, at least we'll have an idea of where everyone should be standing."

"I will protect my sister," said Luinár immediately.

"And would someone look out for me?" asked Araquenval. "In every clash we have fought so far, I have been left standing alone."

"That's what we're trying to resolve here," said Bauglir.

"Araquenval is an Elf," said Dennenor. "I will protect him."

"And Bauglir and Bradlegar can look after each other," said Mîriel. "That will free Rhôn to fight wherever he is needed."

"And where will our front line be?" asked Luinár.

They discussed this for some time. Eventually they decided to put Luinár, Dennenor, and Rhôn in the front to fight a battle; Mîriel, Araquenval, and Bradlegar would be behind them; and Bauglir behind Bradlegar.

Next they settled the watches: Bradlegar and Dennenor on the first watch, Dennenor and Araquenval after them, and finally Araquenval and Mîriel. That put the two Elves on watch in the deepest part of the night; they were not very good at it, but their ability to see by starlight would be the greater asset. Following a pattern he had established the night before, Araquenval stored a sleep spell so he could cast it in an instant.

The first watch passed uneventfully. Araquenval joined Dennenor for the next one. A couple of hours into his watch, his eyes caught flirting shapes, dark and close to the ground, coming closer to the camp. Quickly he and Dennenor roused the camp

"Wolves approach," the Elves told the others as they awakened them. They all scrambled out of their tents, weapons at the ready. For several anxious minutes they watched and waited, but the mysterious creatures could not be seen.

"Well, Araquenval," said Mîriel after about five minutes, "is it possible it was your imagination slinking about there in the darkness?"

"I suppose it could be, but I do not think so," the Elf replied. "In this land, it is better to err on the side of caution. I think the wolves are circling us."

"Perhaps you could track for them in the morning," suggested Bradlegar.

"Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn thinks that not needed," the Wose replied. "No use tracking that which may not exist."

"Let's stand down," said Mîriel. "I've had six hours sleep; I can join the Elves for the rest of this watch and stay on until morning."

The rest of the party returned to their tents. All was quiet for the remainder of the watch. Then Dennenor retired into a tent to rest.

"We should get somebody else up," said Araquenval. "We need to watch more than two directions."

"I do not think that is a good idea," Mîriel replied. "We cannot go flogging our own people like that. They need their sleep--they really do."

"I do not understand this idea of sleep," said Araquenval.

"It is a little complex. But if you make us go without it, we get short-tempered and inattentive."

"It seems to me that if I had the life span of a mayfly, I would not want to waste a third of it."

"We really are not given a choice," said Mîriel. "We have to accept the fate of our tendency."

The night was still cold. The moon went down, making it darker. From her place, Mîriel saw what she thought were dark shapes flirting about to the southwest. Intently she watched them, becoming more convinced by the minute that the wolves she had accused Araquenval of imagining were now real. Carefully she stole back into the camp and began waking people up. Once again they left their tents, holding weapons.

"I'm not sure there are wolves out there," said Bradlegar. "If there were, wouldn't the horses have noticed them by now?"

"Unless, of course," said Bauglir, "those were special wargs, which you could feel but not smell. In which case, we'll all be dead anyway, so we might as well just lay down on the ground."

"If we are going to die," retorted Mîriel, "we should do it with our boots on and laugh in the Witch-King's face! If you want to lie down and be a fatalist, it is just fine with me, and we will eave you here."

"That's my sister!" Luinár exclaimed.

"Where are those wolves?" asked Dennenor. "I have yet to see anything."

"They would rather attack us unawares," Luinár replied. "Now that we have obviously noticed them, they will lay very low. Personally, I would rather they not attack us, so it is a good idea to scare them off."

Bradlegar was not impressed. "I really don't want to spend the next two weeks crossing this wretched plain and getting up two or three times a night!"

"Better that than going to bed and not getting up at all," said Mîriel.

"Well, I am going back to bed," said Bauglir. "I need to get my beauty sleep. Hopefully this time I will not be disturbed by lonely shepherd boys crying wolf."

"I notice he did not offer to stand watch," Mîriel observed. "It is still a couple of hours until dawn; you all should try to get some more sleep."

But before entering her own tent, Luinár looked into Bauglir's. He had not yet fallen asleep. The Dúnadan woman hissed at him, "That last comment you made about my sister's honesty--you might wake up with a really wide grin on your face, just a little lower than your chin!"

Bauglir looked at her in surprise. "Are you threatening me?" he asked.

"Remember Wound!" Luinár snapped back, throwing down the flap of the tent.

Mîriel overhead Luinár's exchange with Bauglir. When her sister returned to their tent, she quietly went in after her. "Sister dear," she said, "in this land we do not need to pick fights."

"He called you a liar!" Luinár replied.

"It is not as if his opinion actually matters," said her sister in response.

"So, you do not want me to kill him?"

"Not now. Currently he is being useful. Let's not be rash, now--just for a change of pace, you understand, sister dear."

Then Mîriel left the tent and with Araquenval resumed the watch. Just a short time after everything had settled down, Araquenval again noticed the dark shapes darting and flirting about the camp. But by now it was lighter, and he make out the shapes of the wolves as they peered towards him. Quickly he pulled out his bow and tried to fire an arrow, but in his haste he released it too soon. The arrow buried itself into the ground by his feet.

Rather than wake the camp, he watched the wolves carefully in the improving light. Mîriel too had noticed them. Leaving her position, she carefully stole through the gorse back into the camp, bow at the ready. Once beside Araquenval, she fired an arrow. The wind caught it and it went wide. One of the wolves lifted its head and howled a long, drawn out note. Then the pack turned and loped off to the southeast.

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Based on events played to April 25, 1997. Accesses since September 30, 1998: