Middle-Earth Role Playing Campaign

"You have," replied Dennenor. "The sun has risen much earlier than we are used to." Then he turned to Bauglir. "Bauglir, may we see your map?"

The proud nobleman produced his map and unrolled it with a flourish. "It is difficult to determine precisely where we are because of all these trees," he said, "but I think we are here." He pointed to a spot just north of the southern mountain range of Angmar and west of Litash.

Dennenor drew their attention to a spur of the mountains that jutted north from the main mountain range between them and Litash. "See these hills?" he asked. "There appears to be a gap between them and the mountains to the south. I am not sure if it is real or just some map-maker's fancy. But if it exists, it would allow us to get to the southern pass without having to go so dangerously close to Litash."

"It may not be as easy as it looks," said Bauglir. "It could be very rocky and rough. But we should make for it. I do not want to get any closer to that accursed city than I have to."

"Neither do I," replied Dennenor.

While the others packed up the camp. Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn and Luinár searched for useful plants, turning up eight kelventari and four arlan leaves, as well as ten athelas leaves and ten rewk nodules. At Bauglir's suggestion, they released five horses from their service and left them free to forage for themselves in the grasslands.

They began their journey again. They asked Scarvey if he could ride, and when he said he could but not well, they provided him with a horse, and had Rhôn and Dennenor ride behind him.

To the north Bauglir pointed out a very heavy cloud. "That's coming toward us," he said. "It looks like we could be in for a lot of rain, or even worse."

"Should we take shelter?" asked Dennenor.

"Yes, but there is no hurry. The cloud will not reach us until the afternoon."

Keeping their eyes on the cloud, Scarvey, and the trail, they rode eastward, making good progress despite not being on the road. After a few hours the birds began retreating into the forest to take shelter in the trees as the cloud neared, and everything became very quiet.

"Everybody stop!" called Bradlegar suddenly. "Look there--on the ground-- there's a trap! Someone's dug a pit and covered it over!"

Quickly several people dismounted and investigated the trap Bradlegar had pointed out. Removing the cover, they peered inside. Nine feet deep it was, with a single pointed spike thrusting ominously up from the base. Holes had been dug for other stakes but had nothing in them. Rhôn found footprints heading north to the road.

"Scarvey, do you know about this trap?" asked Araquenval.

"No, lord, don't know anything about it," came the reply. "Probably it's for hunting wolves or bears, I guess."

"Do you think anyone would be wanting to trap you or your friends?"

"Begging your pardon, lord, I don't think so. We're just hunters. No one takes notice of us."

"Then we should leave it as it is. Cover it up again, and let's be on our way."

An hour's travel from the trap and the clouds began closing in on them. Seeking shelter, they entered the trees and set up tents. Mîriel cast a spell to keep her informed of movement in the forest, then they all settled in to wait out the coming storm. The still of the afternoon soon was broken by a strong wind, then thunder crashed from the skies and rain poured down.

The downpour continued for nearly three hours. Taking advantage of the time, Dennenor again used the olorkorna and meditated, seeking knowledge on a way past Litash. He received a vision of a road leading up into a mountains pass. Below him were rolling hills and, far away, a menacing city perched upon a crag. As in other visions, the road was empty and untraveled, but full of foreboding.

When the rain began to lighten, Mîriel looked out of her tent. "Luinár," she told her sister, "something is bothering the horses. Go out and check." So Luinár put on her helmet, drew her sword, and carefully left the tent to check out the camp. Getting closer to the horses, she noticed something small and black clustered on and about the animals. She returned to the tent she shared with her sister.

"Bats," she reported.

"I'll get a torch," said Mîriel. "The flame will scare them away."

Mîriel handed Luinár a torch. She returned to the horses and lit it. Now that she was closer, she felt repulsed by the ugly sight of the bats clinging with their claws to the steeds. Careful not to burn the horses, she passed the lit torch under the tails of the bats. Eventually they let go and awkwardly flapped away, leaving behind "V" shaped wounds that bled slowly.

Mîriel joined Luinár. "I'm not worried by loss of blood, for it is minimal," she said. "I was worried about the possibility of disease, but fortunately I can detect nothing."

By now Bradlegar was out of his tent, braving the rain and anxiously checking his pony to make sure she had not fallen victim to the bats. Sara was all right, but Luinár's horse, as well as Dennenor's, Bauglir's, and one of the pack animals needed attention. Mîriel and Luinár together staunched and cleaned the wounds, then returned to their tent to dry off.

Fully eight hours after the storm started the rain finally stopped. But it was late into the day, and it would profit them little to pack up the tents and travel, only to pitch them again after an hour.

Suddenly Bauglir's voice roared from the tent he was sharing with Bradlegar. "I need a new tent mate! Enough! Enough! Someone else can share this abominable tent with this little runt! I've have enough!"

"What's happening here?" asked Mîriel as Bradlegar came scrambling out of the tent.

"I was just trying to cheer him up with a raining-song," said the Hobbit, rather confused. "He looked so sad, sitting there in the tent, so I thought I would try to liven it up a little."

"You can have Scarvey," said Rhôn. "He just sit in corner and stare at Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn all day."

"Scarvey sleeps outside!" snapped Bauglir from inside the tent. "He's even worse than the little runt!"

"But Bradlegar needs a place to sleep," said Mîriel.

"Not in my tent! He can sleep in yours."

"What do you think, sis?" Mîriel asked Luinár. "Is there room enough in our tent for three people?"

"Actually, it's rather crowded in there now," Luinár replied. "Why not put him in with the Elves? At no time during the night are both of them in their tent, and during their watch it's empty."

"It is a good suggestion," said Dennenor. "Subject to our lord's approval, I will ask him to move in with us. Araquenval, what say you?"

"He may move into the tent," said Araquenval after a moment's consideration.

Bradlegar received the news happily. "Thank you!" he said, then went to collect his possessions from the pile outside the door of Bauglir's tent where the man had been tossing them.

Evening settled in. While others milled about the camp, Mîriel and Araquenval kept watch beyond the borders. Over time the others retired to their tents to sleep, leaving only the two watchers and Scarvey outside. After Dennenor arrived for the second watch and Mîriel went to bed, Araquenval awakened Scarvey.

"It is not fit for a servant of one such as I to sleep outside in the cold and damp," he told the man. "You may sleep in my tent. But mind the Hobbit, and touch him not!"

"Thank you, lord!" said Scarvey, surprised at Araquenval's generosity.

"I did not say you could speak," Araquenval told him. "Now go into my tent and do not come out until the sun rises!"

Scarvey did as he was told and Araquenval returned to the watch. "That should prove amusing when Bauglir looks for his servant in the morning," he said to Dennenor.

An hour later the Elves caught the flicker of torches and the sound of low voices. A group of men was searching carefully in their vicinity, stopping often to examine the ground. Dennenor awakened the sleepers, and quietly they stole out of their tents and took up positions, ready for a fight. They watched as the men started earnestly talking among themselves in low tones, three of them pointing off away from the camp, two others pointing toward it.

Luinár donned the lassëcollo, the cloak of leaves she received from Fael-Linnis. Araquenval asked Burzot to fly over to the men so he could listen to their conversation.

"The slimy bastards are clever all right," he heard one of them say. "See how they got around our pit trap. They wouldn't stay out in the open. No, they would head for trees, especially once they rain started coming down."

Another disagreed. "No! They would press on--they know they're being tracked. They saw the pit--they even uncovered it--so they would try to get as far away from us as they could once the rain let up."

Araquenval called Dennenor over to him. "Just stay close to me," he said. "I want to try out a spell." Dennenor nodded but said nothing.

Nothing happened for the next couple of minutes. Rhôn rumbled to Araquenval, "If lord Elf has plan, perhaps he should explain it. Else he should let fighters fight."

"Patience," said Araquenval. "The fight appears to be coming to us."

The conversation became more heated, so that even others could catch the occasional word. It seemed the two who had originally believed the group had camped for the night were bringing the other three around to their point of view. Suddenly two swords were pulled from their sheaths and three arrows were readied, and the torch went out.

The group bided its time, waiting for the searchers to come to them. When one of the archers came into range, Araquenval hit him with a water bolt. The man screamed and fell to the ground. Bradlegar let fly his arrow: it hit one of the swordsmen. Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn smashed that fighter's shield with Trollfist, but the man hit back and Rhôn fell to the ground. The attacker cried out in victory, but the yell died with him when Bradlegar pegged him with another arrow. He fell on top of Rhôn.

Two arrows flew in at Luinár; they hit but failed to stop her. She marched straight for the other swordsman, arriving just as another of Bradlegar's arrows struck him. She made short work of her opponent, killing him with two quick blows from her sword. Bauglir suddenly appeared beside one of the archers who had hit Luinár, attacking him with a water bolt, then killing him with his axe.

"Dennenor," said Araquenval beside him, "I will now send you over to the other archer who just fired at Luinár. Are you ready?"

"I am," the other Elf replied, and in a twinkling Araquenval's leaving spell had transported him beside the last remaining fighter. Dennenor struck him with his sword, then ordered him to surrender. Looking around and seeing his four comrades dead or unconscious, he did.

Mîriel ran over to Rhôn, pulled the dead fighter off of him, then brought her friend back to consciousness with a healing spell. Araquenval, meanwhile, walked over to where Dennenor was holding the man who had surrendered. "Scarvey!" he called. "Scarvey, get over here!"

Scarvey's voice came from the camp. "You told me not to leave my tent until the sun rose."

"I order you to come out now, or I shall have you killed," Araquenval retorted.

"As you wish, lord," the man replied. He came bursting from the tent and ran to Araquenval, kneeling on the ground before him.

"Guard this man but do not touch him," Araquenval ordered. Trying to look important, Scarvey stood stiffly by the bound prisoner but did not look at him. The contempt the two men held for each other was noticeable. Araquenval prepared and cast a charm spell.

"Don't kill me!" the man pleaded, clearly frightened. "We were only doing what we were ordered to do!"

"And what where your orders?" asked Araquenval.

"We were to hunt down some intruders. We had been waiting here for long time."

"And what were you told about these intruders?"

"Only that they would be coming, and were in disguise as one of us."

"And who gave you the order to stay and watch for them?"

"Rog-Rog," the man replied. "He told us to stay, and with Rog-Rog giving the order, we weren't about to go anywhere."

"Are there other patrols out here?" Araquenval asked.

"Of course, but Rog-Rog doesn't tell us anything about them."

"How long ago were these orders given to you?"

"About one turn of the moon. We dared not question them even after you didn't show up for so long."

"Are there more troops searching the country closer to Litash?"

"Not really. The odd messenger comes out of Litash now and then. We told them we hadn't seen see anything."

Araquenval pointed out Scarvey to the prisoner. "Can you tell us anything about him?"

The man spat. "Deserter," he said, disdainfully. "We have nothing to do with them. We have orders to kill deserters whenever we find them. What are you going to do with me? I was just following my orders. I don't want to die!"

"Can you help guide us through this region?" Araquenval asked.

"Oh, yes, I can do that."

"Good. I will not kill you. But we have to keep you bound for now, lest my comrades do so."

Araquenval and the others returned to the camp to discuss the situation.

"Are these people useful?" asked Mîriel.

"There are advantages to keeping the new prisoner with us," said Araquenval. "He knows the terrain better and has some knowledge of the Angmarim army."

"And he's also riskier," Mîriel protested. "He looks like the type who would just as soon sell us out if it would profit him. It would be safer for us in the long run if we killed him now."

"He's marked for death--at least in Angmar."

"We don't want to let him go outside of Angmar either," said Dennenor.

Mîriel laughed, "Well, I for one wouldn't mind leaving him wander about the Trollshaws for a while! He's sure to land in a jelly jar after a couple of days!"

"But he could make his way back into Angmar," said Dennenor.

"He's welcome to go home, provided we don't kill him first."

"Once we are out of Angmar we will not care about his fate," said Araquenval. "I just do not want them knowing where we are going."

"I have bad news, guys," said Mîriel. "They know where we're going. They've already found us at least three separate times."

Bauglir chimed in. "I don't know if that's true. They could well have patrols looking for us all over the country. This one just happened to run into us."

"It all depends what has got back to the high command," said Mîriel. "It appears all they know is a couple of priests have gone rogue and are roaming around. They'll think of that differently than if they figure out some prisoners escaped from a mine and are impersonating the priests."

"We have just been referred to as intruders," mentioned Dennenor.

"Which is probably defined loosely as anyone who is not in the Angmarim army!" Mîriel said.

"They probably have not figured out we are escaped slaves," said Araquenval.

"More to the point," said Dennenor, "the patrols probably have not been given that level of information. They likely have been told to watch out for us and kill us when we show up."

And Bauglir added, "They have obviously been left here on sentry duty. If we hide the bodies well, perhaps those in command will never know what happened."

"It's a good idea," said Luinár, "but we have nothing to dig a hole with!"

"Getting back to my basic point," said Mîriel, trying to keep her side of the conversation on track, "these guys really aren't of use to us."

"All right, then," said Araquenval. "Rhôn, would you mind killing Scarvey?"

"Lord Elf not very good at getting hands dirty," said Rhôn, doing nothing to carry out Araquenval's request.

"I'll do it!" said Bauglir.

"Do we want to keep the new man alive for the moment?" asked Dennenor. "He would be useful to the extent that he could send back a false message."

"We can't trust him that far," said Mîriel.

"True," said Araquenval. "But my charm spell is probably still good on him. We should take advantage of that to interrogate him further."

But when they returned to where they had left Scarvey and the prisoner, the prisoner had fallen unconscious. A large red stain on the ground showed the reason: the man was bleeding badly. They debated further whether it was useful to revive him, Mîriel insisting what they got from him was not to be trusted, Araquenval saying his charm spell would allow him to get useful information. In the end Araquenval prevailed. Since Mîriel was not willing to waste the effort to bring the prisoner back to consciousness, Luinár cast two spells to do so.

The man looked groggily at Araquenval, who waited patiently for his eyes to focus. When he felt the prisoner was capable of answering question, he started his interrogation again.

"You are fortunate we decided to revive you when we did, for you were about to die," he told the man. "Now, I will show you a map, and you will show us where the military installations are."

He held up Bauglir's map before the man's face. This he studied intently, as if he had never seen a map before. But he soon decided he knew what the pictures on it represented, then looked at Araquenval. "Where abouts on this are we?" he asked.

The Elf pointed their approximate position.

"There's nothing in these hills," the man reported, pointing to the hills Dennenor had talked about earlier in the day. "There's a bridge down here in the Litash valley. There are two towers guarding the Angarith pass north of Litash. I don't know who's guarding the pass itself. There's a band of Orcs that lives on the far side of the pass; they're kept apart from the others because they eat their friends."

"We're not taking that route," offered Araquenval. "We're going through the pass to Mount Gundabad."

"The Basket Weavers live up there. We call them that because their standard has a basket on it. We think it's rather funny. Actually they're quite fierce. They fight in formation, which is very unusual. The Witch-King likes them and he uses them to guard the pass."

"We have a special way of getting past them," said Araquenval.

"It had better be pretty special," said the prisoner. "They have three or four towns up there, then there's Gundabad itself. That's quite an installation."

"Thank you for your information," said Araquenval. "It was nice knowing you. Luinár?"

Luinár walked up to the prisoner and swung her sword. The man died there on the ground, and Bradlegar gingerly collected his rope.

When everyone returned to the camp Scarvey had disappeared. Quickly they checked the tents and found him asleep in Bauglir's. Standing outside, Bauglir kicked him awake through the tent's wall.

"Dog!" he shouted at Scarvey. "Why are you in my tent? I told you to stay outside! Come out right now! Come out on your hands and knees!"

But when Scarvey poked his head outside, Bauglir hit him a savage blow with his axe and killed him. Bradlegar looked away, shocked and disgusted at the cavalier way Bauglir had dispatched him. Dennenor dragged away the body and piled it with the others.

Araquenval stored a shock bolt spell, then retired to his tent to meditate. Bradlegar and Luinár joined Dennenor for the last watch. The night became cooler but the rain did not return. Everything was quiet and the sleepers were not disturbed.

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Day 18: A Bad Day for General Durax

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Based on events played to August 22, 1997. Accesses since September 30, 1998: