Middle-Earth Role Playing Campaign

The Hobbit nocked an arrow into his bow. "How does steaks for supper sound?" asked Mîriel. "I can dress the deer if you bring it down."

"Not good to kill deer," said Rhôn. "Do not need meat." As a woodman he was a vegetarian and against killing animals for food.

"It would take too long to prepare the meat for travel," said Bauglir. "We should let this one go."

"And we have two months of lembas apiece," added Dennenor.

Bradlegar put down his bow and returned the arrow to his quiver.

At Mîriel's suggestion, they took a rope the patrol leader had been carrying and used it to string the bodies of the people they had killed in the night from a large tree, to make it appear to others that came this way they had been executed as deserters.

"There appears to be storm coming off the eastern mountains," said Bauglir after examining the sky. "It could get colder and rain again."

"Then we should be on our way as soon as possible," said Mîriel.

"And we'll have to do the work of packing up the camp ourselves," said Bradlegar, "thanks to Bauglir's axe-work last night."

They broke camp and began riding again: Luinár and Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn in front to watch the ground for signs of the passage of others, Araquenval and Mîriel in the middle for protection, and Bauglir, Bradlegar, and Dennenor behind them. After an hour's travel Rhôn and Luinár called a stop, then ran ahead to investigate.

"A large caravan has passed through here in the last few days," Luinár reported when they returned. "Rhôn thinks they came through yesterday, possibly in the afternoon. They were going in the direction we intend to take."

"Strange they would take this route," said Mîriel. "We're well south of the main road."

"It appears to be well-travelled, none the less," said Luinár. "And if Rhôn's right about the time, we'll probably catch up with them later on today."

"Probably a war party going up into the mountains," Bauglir moaned.

"Then we should avoid catching them unawares," said Araquenval, "Is there any way we can we avoid following them in their footsteps?"

"Probably not," said Bradlegar. "We've been following a natural series of clearings here through the forest. That caravan's probably doing the same. It would be hard to make our own path. But if the caravan's large enough, we'll probably hear it before we come upon it."

"Then we should proceed, but with caution," said Mîriel.

Onward they went as quietly as they could through the forest of southern Angmar. Late in the morning Mîriel motioned for a stop: she had heard voices and noises coming from around a bend in the trail. They rode off the trail into the trees, then Araquenval sent out Burzot to investigate.

The bat flitted from tree to tree and quickly vanished from sight. Staring into space, Araquenval followed his familiar's flight. Through its eyes, he saw over twenty dull grey canvas tents set out haphazardly in a cleared-out area. Many men of eastern and Dunnish stock milled about a hole cut into a rock face. Araquenval recognized it as the beginning of a mining operation. Armed people stood guard, but they appeared to be on sentry duty and did not look like overseers.

Beginning to feel nauseous, Araquenval brought Burzot back. The bat fluttered in and returned to his helmet home. The group decided they were better off not being noticed, so they made a detour around the mine and continued on their way. Rhôn and Luinár obscured their tracks as they left the trail, hoping their passage would not be noticed.

Once clear of the mining camp, they stopped briefly to rest and eat, then began their journey once more. The terrain became steeper and more rolling as they approached the hills south of Litash. An hour out from their picnic site they rode over the lip of a small dell. The trail descended down into it, crossed a small stream at the bottom, then continued up the other side. Clustered on the trail by the stream sat many mounted men, staring back at the group. Most were dressed in blacks and greys, but one imposing man wore a breastplate that shimmered in green, yellow, and red.

Araquenval waved to group down by the stream. After a moment the man wearing the coloured breastplate waved back and motioned them to come forward. So they rode down to the stream and stopped about fifty feet before the men assembled on the other side. Flanking the leader were two imposing warriors dressed like Luinár, while behind them were six black rangers, and in the back sat five men armed with bows: fourteen in all. Mîriel applied her last remaining dose of jegga poison to an arrow and handed it to Bradlegar.

At close range the leader appeared to be of Númenórian descent: tall and proud, very much like Bauglir. Long black hair done up in a braid fell down from under his helm, while two piercing blue eyes glared out at the front. He wore a breastplate of rigid leather triangles in vivid green, magenta, scarlet, and blue expertly sewn together. On one arm he carried a kite shaped shield that bore the emblem of a needle fanged lantern fish.

"Do you recognize the device?" Mîriel quietly asked Bauglir.

"I do not," came the reply. "I think it is from further south, for it looks like something that might come from there."

The man in the coloured breastplate stared at the group with his icy blue eyes, then called to them across the stream. "Down on your knees and acknowledge Durax, general of Angmar!"

Araquenval extended his hand toward him as if in greeting. "O great Durax," he said, "eat this shock bolt!"

Durax's jaw dropped in absolute astonishment at this insolence, but he had no time to contemplate it further. Araquenval launched his shock bolt, jolting the general's mouth closed again. Immediately Bradlegar let fly his arrow. It struck, but Durax was tougher than the priests back at the tower and did not succumb to the poison. Then Dennenor, eating a kathkusa leaf, splashed across the stream on his horse and with a quick, sure stroke cut off the general's hand.

The stunned patrol watched this assault, aghast. They had heard of a rogue band in this part of Angmar, but until this moment had not suspected they had actually met them. Now it was too late.

Luinár charged across the river toward one of Durax's bodyguards and killed him even as he sat on his horse. Bauglir blasted the other off his mount with a superbly aimed water bolt, then dismounted and vanished. As the guard tried to get up, Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn dashed across the stream and with a savage blow from Trollfist broke his hip, putting him out of the fight. Mîriel looked at one of the rangers, and his horse suddenly fell asleep and collapsed to the ground. The ranger rolled free. He and two of his mates pulled out axes, but none lived long enough to use them; Luinár, Dennenor, and Rhôn made sure of that.

The few arrows the scouts in the back managed to fire during the battle all went wide, none hitting their target. But from his position across the stream, Bradlegar shot a steady stream of arrows into the fray, stopping the rangers and scouts long enough for the warriors on the other side to finish them off. Methodically Luinár, Dennenor, Rhôn, and Bauglir waded through the group, killing each man in turn, barely receiving a scratch themselves.

A minute later and it was all over: an elite troupe, fourteen of Angmar's finest, lay dead or injured on the ground. Araquenval approached the last remaining survivor of Durax's unit, the bodyguard who had received a smashed leg from Trollfist. He was in a bad way; a great red stain on the grass beneath him told he was slowly bleeding to death.

"Why did General Durax insult me so?" Araquenval demanded.

The prisoner spoke haltingly, weak from the pain and loss of blood. "Why? Why did you attack us? We thought you were us, but you were the intruders!"

"Durax is a traitor," said Araquenval.

"What?"

"We were told Durax was a traitor."

The prisoner slowly shook his head. "No ... Durax could not be a traitor ... no one is a traitor to the Witch-King."

"Yet you accuse us of being traitors," Araquenval noted.

"No, you could not be traitors," came the reply. Although he was having trouble speaking, the man's mind was still clear. "You never were from Angmar --we know that now."

"What lies between here and pass south of Litash?" Araquenval demanded.

The man lifted his head and looked about him, trying to remember where he was. "Encampments ... Litash very close ..."

"And who's in charge in Litash?"

"Head priests."

"And are they there now? Were you on your way to Litash?" asked Araquenval.

"And why were you here?" Dennenor added.

"To ... to intercept the intruders."

"So," said Araquenval, "you knew they were close."

"Yes."

"Did you know where they were heading?"

"No ... wasn't told. Durax may have known, but I didn't."

"Are there others searching for the intruders?"

Despite his pain, the man managed a weak smile. "After today--many!"

"And how will they find out what happened here today?" asked Araquenval.

"He already knows," said the man, defiantly.

"The Witch-King?"

"By now ... yes ... he would know. Durax was one of our great generals ..."

Mîriel looked at the body of Durax laying on the ground. "Oh, really?" she asked.

"Well, he always was a little cocky," gasped the prisoner.

"Are there any trolls in the hunt for us?" asked Araquenval.

"Rog-Rog is many trolls," the man shot back.

"And is Rog-Rog coming this way?"

"Don't know ... I was sent to stop the intruders .. didn't hear what Rog-Rog was doing."

Araquenval paused, wondering if he had all the information he needed from the bodyguard. Then he asked, "Shall we put you out of you misery now?"

The man raised his head again and stared fiercely at his inquisitor. "Yes!"

"Well, tell the Witch-King when you see him that we're coming after him!"

The man tried to spit, but he was too weak. He snapped, "I'll tell him what you look like and where you're going ... I'll tell him everything he will need to kill you all!"

Araquenval looked at Rhôn. "Maybe we should bottle this man's soul up."

"Kill me!" cried the prisoner hoarsely. "Glory will be mine! Just kill me now!"

Araquenval looked down at him on the ground. "I'll take you with us and make it look like you set up ambush to kill Durax!"

"Kill me!" was the only reply he got.

"Should we tie him up?" asked Bradlegar. "Prevent him from escaping-- although I don't know how he would with that bad leg--and reporting this fight and giving away our current position?"

"No need to worry about that," said Mîriel. "The Witch-King knows where we are. Keeping this man alive or sending his soul to him won't affect us either way."

Araquenval squatted down beside the man. "What are the names of the leaders in Gundabad?" he demanded. "What names would we be expected to know?"

"So far away ... don't hear much from there," the man replied. His breathing was becoming more laboured. "There's the king and his two sons ... Hurog is the leader of the cloven spire ... the twisted spire is Brog." He paused and winced; perhaps a bone splinter had moved in his ravaged leg and he felt it. "The king himself ... don't know his name ... doesn't come out much."

"That confirms what we were told earlier," said Araquenval. "We were given orders from the Angulion to go to Gundabad and deliver a message to Hurog." Then he stood up. "Good bye--it was nice to meet you."

And Luinár cut the man's throat.

While they cleaned their weapons, Bauglir said, "Before the crows pick these bodies over, we should do so."

They sorted through Durax's possessions first. Written in runes on his sword were the words, "Sword of Pain." After examination, Bauglir said it was exceptionally well made and could discharge up to three shock bolts a week. He claimed it for himself, since no one else needed such a device.

Durax's karma helm was also well-made, as befitted a general of Angmar, and Luinár took it for her own. His armour had been made of scales taken from the hide of a dragon and sewn together, very tough indeed. Although Rhôn wanted to wear it, it would not fit him, so Dennenor put it in and discovered it fit him well.

"It looks like Durax comes from the southern lands," said Bauglir, examining the deceased general's shield. "This shield came from there. I recognize the construction; it is quite strong but light in weight."

No one really needed the shield, so they put it on to the pack horse along with the armour and gold they had stripped from the others. Rhôn pulled a strange device off Durax's belt; it was a flat wooden strip, in length about two feet from tip to tip, but carved with a bend in the middle. He showed it to Bauglir.

"I cannot identify this," said Bauglir. "It may be something that also came from the south. It also appears to be a throwing weapon of some sort. It has had some magic put into it, for I detect it can cast a spell known as a stun cloud."

Rhôn took the weapon back from Bauglir and threw it. It flew out in a shallow arc nearly two hundred feet, then to Rhôn's amazement turned around and came back to him. He held out his arm and the object sailed in for a graceful landing, right into the palm of his outstretched hand.

"Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn does not understand magic spell," he said, "but weapon that can hit his enemy at one hundred fifty paces he can make good use of!"

Going through Durax's pockets, they found twenty-five pieces of gold, a gold ring set with a red stone, and a phial. Araquenval quickly determined the ring could cast a water wall spell. The phial both Rhôn and Mîriel examined. It contained a pasty substance neither could identify, but Mîriel figured it was poisonous and so found a safe place to store it.

The general's horse was a magnificent animal decked out in chain barding, and once Luinár rode it she claimed it for her own. The horses formerly ridden by the bodyguards had no armour, but they were better than the ones Dennenor and Rhôn had been riding, so they traded up, giving their horses to the others.

From the other dead men they collected two suits of plate and six suits of rigid leather armour, six composite bows, six hand axes, another ten pieces of gold and seventy of silver, and ten doses of taymada poison. They cast a detect evil on the entire lot and found nothing, so they loaded it all on to a horse for transport out of Angmar. Mîriel kept the taymada.

"Should we leave an Orc standard behind?" asked Luinár as they prepared to start travelling again.

"No," said Dennenor. "There are no Orc bodies around. Were this truly an attack by Orcs, these men would have killed a great many of them before being defeated. Anyone coming upon this scene and seeing an Orc standard would not be long deceived."

"I was thinking about a new cover story," said Mîriel. "How about this? 'The intruders fell on General Durax and we are now bearing his body to Litash for proper burial.' After all, if prior to our attack Durax was fooled, then anyone in Angmar short of the Witch-King would also be fooled."

"But I am wearing his armour," said Dennenor.

"So we say he gifted it us as his dying wish, in recognition for the great gallantry with which we fought!"

"I say we leave the body behind and get out of here as fast as we can!" exclaimed Luinár.

"I like the idea of taking the body," said Bradlegar. "It could be our guarantee of a safe passage."

"No, brave warrior Hobbit," said Luinár. "Our next fight could well be with Rog-Rog, and the one after that with the Witch-King himself. Rog-Rog is probably too stupid to listen to our story, and the Witch-King would not give us enough time to tell it!"

"Given that Rog-Rog is a Troll, do we have to worry about him during the day?" asked Bradlegar.

"He is a Black Troll," Bauglir said. "He can operate any time."

"And he's very strong," Mîriel added. "He can probably travel without stopping for three days, and still have enough fight left in him to kill you at the end of them. He's dangerous!"

"We need speed!" implored Luinár. "Taking the body will only slow us down!"

"Would need to make many explanations if people saw us with body of Durax," added Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn.

Araquenval closed the debate. "By killing Durax, we have doubtless set off alarms all over Angmar. I presume all we meet from here on in will shoot first and ask questions later."

So they left all the bodies behind and moved as swiftly hard as they could with a pair of pack-horses in tow. Since they were close to Litash, all the trails in the area were in good condition for riding, and progress was better than they could have hoped. Once, when they reached the crest of a hill and stopped to look about them, they saw Litash, and the sight of its dark walls and sinister towers struck them all with fear and forboding. Bauglir shuddered and bent low in his saddle.

The ride continued through the afternoon without incident, but as evening came on Bradlegar called a halt.

"There's another tower ahead," he reported.

It stood dark and strangely tall against the sky, apparently built on a ledge of rock that was presently hidden from view. They retreated into the woods to get out of its line of sight.

"Let's just go around the tower," said Bauglir.

Bradlegar disagreed. "Doing a reconnaissance or scouting some sort is very much in order."

"Not good to approach tower or leave it behind without checking first," said Rhôn. "But for the moment we should not attack."

"And I don't even want to go past the tower until we know what we're going past!" said Bradlegar.

Bauglir conceded. "Point taken. So how do we scout the tower out?"

"Perhaps Dennenor and I could go up there in disguise," said Araquenval. "I as a warrior priest and Dennenor as Durax, and demand they open the door."

"The ruse would probably fail," Bauglir responded, "for Durax could well have spent his last night at this tower. So the gatekeeper would know the person who now stood in front of him was not Durax. Perhaps Araquenval could send that bat of his up to check."

"I would," the Elf replied, "but I can control Burzot only to about three hundred feet away from me."

"So," suggested Mîriel, "if you sent him straight up about two hundred and fifty feet you could get a good view."

"Or send it ahead two hundred and fifty feet," said Bauglir.

"Or I could go ahead myself, then send the bat on a tour of the tower," said Araquenval.

"Perhaps," said Mîriel, "but a bat flying carefully about the tower and fluttering in front of every window would look suspicious. The best you could do is one circle around the tower and bring him back. We couldn't get much information that way."

"We could at least give it a try."

So they moved carefully through the darkening woods closer to the tower. When they had come in as near as they dared, they stopped and continued their discussion.

"If there are any major cracks in the tower," said Mîriel, "I could do an extend cracks spell. The resulting damage to one of the corners would be a useful diversion."

"Thinking of spells," said Araquenval, "I could cast a flying spell on Bauglir, and he could fly invisible to the tower."

"But I have used the cloak already today," Bauglir replied. "So the spell within it will not work until the sun rises again tomorrow morning. I can now, however, cast the invisible spell myself."

"Do we really want to use this type of magic so close to Litash?" asked Dennenor.

Mîriel contemplated the Elf's question for a moment. "I think it is worth the risk," she said. "Remember, these are utility type spells that don't create too much disruption in the essence."

Dennenor spoke again. "That answered my first question. Now my second one is, why Bauglir? The only reason his name was mentioned first was we believed he could go invisible due to his cloak. Since we now know we have to cast the invisibility spell, why not cast it and the flying on the Halfling? He has a good pair of eyes on him, and he did say he wanted to scout the tower."

Bradlegar started as he realized Dennenor was recommending they cast not one, but two, magic spells on him, but whatever his misgivings about it, everyone else applauded Dennenor's idea.

"It is a good suggestion," said Bauglir. "The little runt can actually be useful from time to time."

"And if he had to fire his bow," said Mîriel, "it would be a nasty attack!" She laughed. "Can you imagine, some poor Angmarim on the top of the tower getting stuck with an arrow that suddenly appears out of nowhere?"

Araquenval grinned. "Yes, our secret weapon--the invisible flying Hobbit!"

Bradlegar resigned himself to being sent on this unorthodox spying mission. But he put on a brave face and asked, "Mîriel, you had a flower you gave me once to help me see better. Have you got any more of them?"

Mîriel went through her herb pouch. "Yes--megillos. I still have some of them." She pulled one out and gave it to him.

Bauglir cast the flying spell on Bradlegar, then Araquenval cast invisibility and the Hobbit disappeared. Trembling, Bradlegar unsteadily floated up and in moments cleared the tops of the trees. He looked about himself for a moment to get his bearings, then with heart pounding he headed to the tower.

It was a slender structure built from a black basalt like material, taller by a nearly a hundred feet than the one they had attacked by the River Angsiril. Each corner sported a turret fashioned like an ornate spike, and crenellated walls ran between them. Ivy grew thickly about the base, and where it had not covered the walls Bradlegar saw several large cracks in the masonry.

Trees had been cleared to a mere fifty feet from the front of the tower, and in the yard he saw a stable for the horses and a pen for holding wolves. He appeared to have arrived in time to catch the changing of the guard, for humans were entering the tower by one door, while by another Orcs were leaving and heading to the wolf pen to choose mounts.

Bradlegar noticed four floors of windows at the top of the tower. From time to time someone passed in front of one of these, sometimes a man and at other times an Orc, but he never saw Orcs and Men at the same window.

Having successfully made it this far, and realizing he had not been noticed, Bradlegar's confidence grew somewhat and he flew in close to the lowest window and peered in. There he saw a large common room, the same size as was the tower at this point, for he could see out a window on the other side. A fire burned cheerily in the fireplace and several men relaxed about it. Someone mentioned the name of Durax and three others cursed it.

He flew up to the next floor. Here it was dark except for a few torches, and it appeared to be a storage room: many wooden crates of what looked like food were stacked here, and several large barrels also. The next floor up was better lit, for it was the armoury, and several men were in it, sorting and cleaning weapons and armour.

At the next level the shutters were closed, so Bradlegar flew around to the other side. Here the window was open, and looking in he saw nearly thirty beds. About a dozen men were in here now, all asleep.

Then he rose to the level of the parapets, and there several Orcs lounged about. He surmised they were supposed to be on watch, but they did not appear to be concentrating terribly much. But several large black crebain were also perched there, peering out into the night with eyes that glowed dimly yellow in the gloom. Bradlegar shuddered and quickly descended.

Before leaving he examined the main door to the tower. As he expected, it was made of solid wood and bound with iron. A portcullis had been dropped in front of it, so he assumed all the men were in for the night. Then he rose into the air and swiftly flew back to the group.

Back in the woods where the others were anxiously waiting, Dennenor noticed Bradlegar's pony Sara start as if in surprise. Then she tossed her head and nickered, and Bradlegar's voice came from her direction. "I'm back!" he called. "So how do I become visible again?"

"Just will the spell to be gone, and we will be able to see you," said Araquenval. "But perhaps you should stay invisible for a while, for it may be useful still."

"All right," came Bradlegar's voice from his pony.

"What did you find out?" asked Mîriel.

Bradlegar quickly described all he had seen, and he finished by reminding the others of the Orc patrol he had seen heading out on the wolves.

"The tower's too big for us to take ourselves," said Mîriel.

"I agree," came Bradlegar's voice. "I mean, I could probably fly into the tower like Bauglir did with the last one, but I don't think I could get the grate open and then the door opened without being noticed."

Mîriel continued. "We don't need another fight at this stage. We're very close to getting out of Angmar, and if we simply slip by the tower in the night we'll be that much closer."

The others agreed, so they prepared to move on. Mîriel cast a long range nature's awareness spell. But she paused a while, then smiled in satisfaction and turned to the others.

"I was lucky enough to detect some wolves in the immediate area," she explained. "So I cast an animal mastery spell and suggested to the leader they check out some other wolves nearby encroaching on their territory. I felt them head off in the direction of the tower. If there are any wolves left in the pen when they get there, there will be such a row that we could probably ride right by the tower waving our hands and not be noticed!"

They began riding again, the Elves carefully finding a path around the tower. When it was finally at their backs they heard baying howls behind them: it appeared Mîriel's wolves had discovered the ones penned up there. Hearing this, they picked up their pace and rode on into the deep of the evening.

After riding for an hour through a series of glades in the forest, Bradlegar pointed to a knoll ahead. Grass carpeted it at the base where it met the meadow, but trees grew from halfway up its side to the top. "It looks like a place we can spend the night," he said. "We can be hidden in the trees but still see movement on the plain."

No one argued with Bradlegar's observation, so they carefully climbed the hill. The summit was crowned with tall trees spaced well apart, so there was enough room for them to pitch their tents.

"Things will be touch and go until we get out of Angmar," said Mîriel, "especially after today's little encounter with Durax. We should have three people on every watch, not just two."

"I will join you for the first watch," said Luinár.

"And I will take the third," said Bauglir. "I require rest if I wish to cast spells tomorrow."

"That leaves Rhôn to take the one in the middle. Do you mind having to wake up for four hours in the middle of the night?"

"For tonight and perhaps tomorrow. After that maybe warrior woman can be awakened for the deep of night."

"I'm afraid the watches will not be pleasant," said Bauglier. "It will rain, probably rather hard, before the morning." Then he disappeared into his tent.

Mîriel, Araquenval, and Luinár kept the first watch, all climbing tress to gain a better view. Near the end of her watch, Mîriel saw torches off in the distance and heard the approach of a patrol. They passed within a thousand feet of the camp, but did not notice the fugitives hiding there, and continued their walk to the tower the group had passed earlier that evening.

After the patrol passed, Mîriel and Luinár retired to their tent, and Rhôn joined Dennenor and Araquenval on the Elves' watch. Araquenval decided not to climb a tree, and instead sent up Burzot every so often to check things out. But he did not learn much, for the bat was more interested in hunting insects than listening to its master.

The temperature dropped and the wind picked up, chilling everyone outside until the end of the watch. Rhôn went back to bed and Araquenval retreated into his tent to meditate, then Bradlegar and Bauglir went outside to keep watch with Dennenor. Bradlegar climbed into a tree with considerable ease, while Bauglir cast a levitate spell and simply floated up to a handy branch. It began to rain. Bauglir cursed the cold and damp from time to time, but nothing else disturbed the night.

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Based on events played to October 17, 1997. Accesses since September 30, 1998: