Middle-Earth Role Playing Campaign

"Bauglir, would we be able to make it out of Angmar today?" asked Bradlegar.

"No, for Angmar's borders seem to be increasing all the time," Bauglir replied. "The pass we head for is really the back door of Angmar, but we will not be safe for several days, until we come down out of the mountains."

"So we won't be safe until we get to the Trollshaws," said Mîriel, "in a matter of speaking!"

"True," replied Bauglir. "There are Orcs in the pass, the wild ones that are more difficult to control. Since they are unsuitable for use in his army, the Witch-King sends them instead to guard the passes and outlying areas of his dark realm."

Dennenor spoke. "Twice now I have meditated and sought the best way out of this land, and twice I have seen a pass, quiet and deserted. I did sense danger behind and ahead, but the pass itself was safe."

"I will believe that when I am safe in Rivendell," said Araquenval.

On that unhappy note, they packed up the soggy camp and started out again: Dennenor and Luinár riding side by side in the front, Mîriel and Araquenval behind, followed by Bauglir, Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn, and Bradlegar.

Bradlegar noticed them first: a series of what appeared to be low hillocks, peppered in bumps on one of the larger hills. The Hobbit called out a warning when he noticed a curl of smoke drifting up from one of them.

"It is probably an encampment of some sort," said Luinár. "Shall we attack it?"

"We've had this debate before, sister dear," said Mîriel, "and more than once. Surely you remember we have usually decided to bluff our way through, and fight only when we must."

Araquenval added his own comment. "It should be easy to bluff whoever is in the camp. With every major person we have killed to date, we have added his costume to our disguises. We now appear as a party of high level Angmarim authorities going about the realm on official business. Indeed, we now count General Durax among our numbers!"

"And we are too close to Litash for this sort of foolishness," Mîriel continued. "We are trying to get out of Angmar before the posse looking for Durax's killers makes it this far. Why else would we have ridden all the day yesterday in the rain?"

"Therefore," said Dennenor, "we shall ride on by, paying this encampment the little respect it deserves!"

And ride on by they did, and upon the rude wood palisade encircling the camp was a gruesome sight: bodies had been impaled on hooks and hung there decaying. Luinár noticed a banner high on a stake in the centre of the enclosure, and upon its black background was the image of a red basket.

"They must really be outlaw Orcs," said Mîriel. "Typically those guys guard the east pass to Gundabad. Yet they appear to have been exiled here."

All that morning they rode, following a trail that rose steadily through the hills in which they travelled. The sky was still the same slate grey that seemed to cover the land forever, for the only time they had seen the sun since their flight from the mine was during the days they had spent in Nan Fastataurë. They rode as quickly as they could, keeping conversation to a minimum, as though they were anxious their words could be heard even in Litash.

At last, at the top of an unusually high hill, they pulled their horses up short and gazed in wonder at the spectacle before them. They stood on the ridge of a great escarpment, and ahead of them the suddenly treeless land fell away and dropped precipitously a thousand feet to the floor of the valley below. In that valley a dark lake lay, and around its shores and further out were small dark dots that marked camps of soldiers and Orcs.

"Behold that mountain yonder!" cried Dennenor, gesturing to the left at a peak enshrouded in clouds. "For if it is the one I think it is, beyond is the pass that leads from Angmar."

"Indeed it should be," said Bauglir. "For that lake below is marked upon my map, and southward from it is the entrance to the pass."

And Bradlegar asked, "But how do we get there? We can't climb down into the valley from here. It's far to steep for that!"

"But descend we must," said Mîriel. "Staying in the mountains would slow us down considerably, and the entrance to the pass is from the valley. Here in the mountains we could well miss it altogether."

Luinár dismounted and gazed at the steep land. "It will be dangerous," she said after a couple of minutes, "for the hill is stony and the footing uncertain. If we are lucky we may find trails that cross against the face of this ridge. We should not try going straight down, for some of us are not that good at climbing, and the horses would not be able to follow."

"Seeing that it is dangerous," said Araquenval, "we should space ourselves so that if one of us begins to slip, another ahead or behind could assist."

They all dismounted and talked among themselves for several minutes, trying to determine in which order they should attempt the descent. Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn decided to go in the front, followed by Dennenor with Mîriel between them. Behind her went Araquenval, Bauglir, and Bradlegar, and Luinár walked in the back.

"Wait a moment," said Bauglir. "Not only will the descent be difficult, but people in the camps below us will certainly notice us." He paused and concentrated for a few moments. "I have cast a shade spell over us," he announced. "It will reduce the risk of us being seen."

And so they began the agonizingly slow and careful descent of steep side of the escarpment, making a long diagonal trail along its face. The stones underfoot were small and loose, and everywhere they set down a boot, gravel and pebbles dislodged and slid down the hill. The rain the day before only added to their obstacles, for it had made the unstable ground slick and even more unpredictable.

Methodically they inched their way across the steep front of the mountain, Rhôn feeling out a path before them, and the others behind taking care to step only where the others had set down foot before them. An hour passed, and then two, and still they crawled along, the valley floor seeming no closer than before.

Behind him Bradlegar could hear the familiar crunch of Luinár's boots following his steps, just as he followed behind Bauglir in his steps. Then suddenly he heard a strange scraping and a gasp, and turned to see if everything was still all right. Luinár was in trouble, scrambling to maintain her footing on the unstable trail. But every time she shifted to find a new foot-hold, the stones beneath gave way even more, and she was now in imminent danger of losing her tenuous grip altogether and sliding down the side of the mountain. The valley was still far below.

Nimbly the Hobbit jumped a couple of feet further up the slope and back to his companion. Underneath, his bare feet felt the cold stones, but they also told him a he now stood on large and well anchored rock. He held extended his arm to Luinár.

"Grab hold of my hand!" he called to her.

"What good would that do?" asked Luinár, still scrambling, still sending stones tumbling down the mountainside. "If I fall, I will take you with me!"

"Please, take my hand!" he implored. "You're in more danger than me, for I'm standing on a rock that isn't going to move!"

Reluctantly Luinár reached up and grasped the Hobbit's small hand. Bradlegar grasped it with his other and pulled back as hard as he dared, trusting his feet to stay where they were. Suddenly two arms grasped him about the chest: Bauglir had come up behind to aid in the rescue. Together they stood their ground while Luinár, now supported and feeling less in danger, carefully felt around with her feet and finally managed to place them both on ground that stayed firm underneath her.

For several seconds after Luinár was safe she and Bradlegar stood there, hearts pounding, grasping each other's hands. Then Luinár leaned close to him.

"Once again my brave warrior Hobbit has come to my rescue," she whispered to him. "Thank you." And she kissed him. "Thank you too, Bauglir." Then she helped Bradlegar down from the stone and back on to the path.

They continued their meticulous traverse of the hill face, ever cautious, ever slow. They had two more near accidents on that path: once Araquenval slipped and was saved from falling by Dennenor, then Mîriel lost her footing and was prevented from sliding down the mountain with a quick action from Rhôn.

When they came at length to a wide ledge on the side of the treacherous mountain, they stopped and sat down for a rest. Nearly three hours now they had toiled on the slippery stones and were exhausted from the effort. Hungrily they each ate one of the lembas cakes given them by Fael-Linnis and Lady Falista. Although their hunger was eased and their stamina restored, they still felt apprehensive about the journey ahead of them.

"The valley floor does seem closer now," said Luinár.

"And it is," said Mîriel. "Look up, and you'll see how far we've come."

"Not nearly far enough for my liking," said Araquenval. "How glad I shall be when again I can set my feet upon ground that does not move!"

"And I likewise," Dennenor responded. "But at this rate it will be several more hours before we can do that. And the day grows short. We may not make it to the bottom by nightfall."

Bauglir walked over to the discussion; he had slipped away for a few minutes. "I have bad news," he said. "Snow is coming, and winds also. If we stay here we shall be trapped in a blizzard while still on this accursed mountain."

Bradlegar gasped and everyone turned to look at Bauglir. "I thought things were bad already," said Mîriel. "Sometimes your talent for predicting the weather is a very mixed blessing indeed!"

"Then we should endeavour to get to the bottom as quickly as we can," said Luinár. "I say we tie a rope to each other and climb down from here."

"And leave the horses behind?" asked Dennenor. "They are very important to us and to our escape. Nay, whatever path we choose, the horses must be able to follow."

"Then let us choose a path as steep as the horses can follow," said Mîriel.

"Oh, dear!" cried Bradlegar, suddenly jumping up and running over to his pony Sara. He began rummaging through the saddlebags. "I'd quite forgotten this!" he exclaimed, pulling out a rope. "We got this back at the tower. It's made out of some strange material that seems to grip really well. It should help us climb down. Every little bit helps!"

"This is one small piece of good news," said Dennenor. "Luinár, tie this rope about you, or hold fast on to it. The others will do the same. If we do start to slip, call a warning and we will hold our ground until you are safe again."

Once more they began the descent down the mountain side. Progress was faster now, for they were taking advantage of every route down that was passable, and Bradlegar's rope gave them confidence. But the day would not hold for them, and within an hour the sun sank behind the mountain and the light began to fail.

Crash! A rock hurtled toward them, narrowly missing Araquenval, then bounced and bumped away down the mountain. Everyone stopped in their tracks. From around a bend in the rock a large, pale face peered at them. Then a grin crossed it, and the creature spoke.

"Hmmm, tasty little ones," it said, then turned and looked behind. "Hey, come on you guys, dinner!"

"Trolls!" said Mîriel. "You people think you can handle them?"

"Of course, sis!" said Luinár. She pulled out her last kathkusa leaf and put it in her mouth. Dennenor did the same. Mîriel gave a breldiar flower to Bradlegar, while Rhôn reached for the boomerang. Bradlegar fired an arrow and hit the troll, who winced as the arrow struck and bounced off.

Araquenval called to the trolls. "Do not throw boulders at us! You might cause us to fall and then we would not be able to give you the moosh-moosh jam that is yours as a gift from the Lord of Litash."

"Moosh-moosh jam?" asked a bemused Mîriel behind him.

"I had to come up with something on the spur of the moment," the Elf replied.

The troll answered Araquenval's call. "Yes--me want jam now!"

"Then do not run up here to attack us," Araquenval called.

Two more trolls appeared, each carrying a large rock. One of them looked across the gap between them and said, "Good idea. We throw rocks instead!"

"Nice talking, Araquenval!" said Dennenor as he, Luinár, Rhôn, and Bauglir strode past him toward the trolls. One troll threw his rock at Rhôn, but it fell short, bounced, and began a long roll down the mountain side. Another threw to Dennenor, but the first troll had just jumped out to engage the Elf and caught the rock in the back of the head. It bellowed it realized one of its own companions had just whacked it. Two more trolls appeared, throwing stones at Araquenval and Mîriel, missing.

"I hope they don't have many more of those rocks," Bradlegar muttered to himself, running forward for a better shot and putting another arrow into his bow.

"Light time!" Araquenval called suddenly. "Cover your eyes!"

Bradlegar and the others quickly put an arm in front of their faces, and moments later a tremendous blast of light illuminated the entire area, then vanished. Blinded and confused by the discharge, four of the trolls covered their eyes and turned to run. Two lost their footing and crashed down the mountain side to a ledge fifty feet below. Great roaring came up the from the ledge; the unlucky trolls had obviously shattered a limb or two in the fall. Bauglir hit a third blinded troll with a powerful water bolt, sending it over the ledge to its death on rocks a hundred feet down.

The troll in front of Dennenor was not affected by Araquenval's light spell, so the Elf swung his two handed sword at it, breaking its shoulder. Luinár and Rhôn hit it also, and Dennenor killed it with another blow, but in doing so lost his grip on his sword. It flew from his hands, landing on the path, sliding and heading to the edge. The Elf said nothing, but with a grim expression on his face leaped over the body of the troll after his sword. He reached it just in time, grasping the hilt moments before it slipped off the ledge.

The last troll had also been stunned by the light spell, but managed to keep its bearings and stay on the narrow path. Bradlegar hit it with his second arrow, and Luinár and Rhôn joined the attack. It shouted wildly and ran away down the path. Too late: Bradlegar struck it with yet another arrow, and Luinár came up behind and finished it off. Then she climbed down the hill to where the two injured trolls lay, and she and Bradlegar killed them also.

The bodies of the trolls yielded a few hundred copper pieces, which they discarded, and a large bronze key, which they kept.

"There's bound to be a troll-hold around here," said Bradlegar when Luinár had climbed back up to the rest of the group. "It would be a good place to sit out the impending storm."

"And it is still very early in the evening," Bauglir observed. "The sun had barely set before we encountered them. The hold is likely to be close by."

"The closer the better!" said Mîriel. "The wind is picking up."

On the valley floor many pinpricks of light appeared: fires were being lit in the camps below. The red glow once more appeared over Litash, tinged this evening with a hint of blue. From here the dark city itself could be seen, and Bauglir watched it carefully for a minute, then announced he could see beacon fires burning.

A trail led back from where the trolls had first seen the group, and this they followed for about five hundred feet before it ended suddenly in a large, well-built door sporting a prominent keyhole. The door stood slightly ajar, and from behind a yellow glow flickered and danced.

"This looks like their home," said Mîriel. "But before we go in, we should make ourselves less conspicuous. Bauglir, you should use your cloak to go invisible. Luinár, here's that mask we took from those rangers before we entered the Tanglewood Vale. Put it on; it will be harder for others to see you."

"Mîriel," said Araquenval, "if you desire, I can make you invisible as well."

"I like the idea," she replied. "Do it."

Araquenval concentrated for a short time, then Mîriel abruptly vanished. Bauglir disappeared about the same time.

Luinár stole over to the door, Bradlegar right behind her, arrow at the ready. The two looked down the tunnel. It was obviously at one time a mine: the tunnel was straight and supported by many sturdy wooden beams. A great fire burned in a large room beyond. Luinár motioned to the others to join her.

"Wait," said Araquenval. "The trolls may have set some traps. Let me prepare a spell to detect them before we go any further." A minute later he said, "I have the spell going. I should be able to find any traps in here for the next few minutes until it wears off."

With Dennenor, Luinár, and Rhôn leading the way, they all stole into the mine and down the tunnel. It ended in a large cavern about fifty feet across and twenty-five high. Over a great fire built in its centre an impaled Orc was roasting. Cast about the room was garbage and unidentified waste, decaying into dark, oozing masses on the floor.

From somewhere a light breeze hit their faces, carrying with it powerful and foul odour. Overcome by the stench, Araquenval, Luinár, and Dennenor began coughing. Eyes watering and gasping for breath, the three turned and faced the wall, hoping to catch a wisp of fresh air.

The others stood their ground, and it was fortunate they did, for at that moment two trolls appeared from another tunnel on the right. One carried a large axe, and blood covered the axe and the troll's arms up to the elbows. Behind him a came a smaller one, a female, splattered over with blood and carrying a large cauldron.

Rhôn wasted no time, snatching his boomerang and launching it toward the larger of the two. It flew in a gentle but precise arc and struck the troll hard on the side of the head. He cried out and stumbled forward. The female threw her cauldron at Rhôn, but she badly misjudged her toss: it struck the ceiling and fell with a great crash to the floor. Still aided by the breldiar he had taken earlier, Bradlegar fired his bow. The arrow flew like the wind and buried itself in the female's face, exactly between her eyes. She did not live long enough even to cry out, but fell over backwards, dead before she met the floor.

Then Bauglir appeared behind the male troll, and a brilliant stream of fire leaped from his hand and assailed it. The poor creature took most of the blast in the head. Blinded, it now roared with fury and swung its axe with abandon. In darted Rhôn, Trollfist in his hand. He struck and the troll stumbled and fell, bellowing all the more from the pain of its shattered knee. Bradlegar fired another arrow and hit him, then Bauglir with his axe and Rhôn with Trollfist finally killed him.

By now the others had recovered from their first whiff of the stench in the room and had entered, only to find both trolls dead. "Looks like Mommy and Daddy had let their kids out to play," said Luinár when she saw the two dead trolls on the ground.

Quickly they searched the bodies, finding on the male a large and very crudely drawn map. It showed the main room where its artist now lay dead, and two tunnels on either side. In one of the tunnels he had drawn an arrow that pointed to one side.

"Let's check first the tunnel where the trolls came from," Mîriel suggested. "If there are others, they are likely to be down there."

They stole down tunnel in their normal fashion. "Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn smells unpleasant odour here," said the Wose. Dennenor and Araquenval both wondered what could possibly be worse than what they had smelled earlier.

The tunnel ended in an archway and a room beyond, lit with dim flickering torches. A repulsive red mess lay dripping on a huge table inside and the floor was thick with blood. On the left was another room, and after checking with the olorkorna Araquenval declared it was empty, appearing to be but a bedroom.

So they left that tunnel and crossed the large room to investigate the tunnel on the other side. Here the air was fresher, but the light worse, so Luinár prepared a light spell and cast it. It illuminated the corridor, disclosing a large room on the left. Here the trolls had thrown junk of all description in a large pile, but it was of such obvious little value that they did not bother sorting through it.

Luinár heard quiet laughter beside her. "Silly fool," said Bauglir, obviously amused. "See this map? The room here is on the left, but the arrow drawn by the troll points right. Now what could he possibly be trying to point to?"

"Surely not a secret room!" laughed Mîriel. "Rhôn, can I borrow one of your axes? I want to use the handle to tap the wall."

Rhôn handed Mîriel an axe, and carefully and methodically she tapped on the tunnel wall opposite the room. She was rewarded very quickly, for a large section of the wall had a noticeable hollow sound to it.

"Little doubt there is a room behind here," said Araquenval. "But how do we get in?"

"Perhaps we could cast a door spell to make a door in the wall," Bauglir suggested.

"It may work," the Elf replied, "but it creates a doorway but two feet thick. If the wall is more, we would have to cast two or maybe even three to make our way through. And the spells fade after a while, which could trap people on the other side."

"No need for magic here," said Mîriel. "Any one of us has ten times the brains of a troll. If a troll can figure out a way to get in, so can we! Look up there!" She shone the beam of her directed light spell at the ceiling. Within its circle they could clearly see an unusually dark patch of wood among the light coloured beams that held up the roof.

"Now we could use a bit of magic," said Bauglir. He concentrated for nearly a minute, then gently rose to the ceiling. Once up, he place one hand on the supporting beam, the other on the dark wood, and pulled. There was a whirr, a click, and a section of the wall in front of them swung inward.

"Wait a moment before we go in," said Araquenval. Again he took out the blue sphere and stared into it. A minute later he said, "I used the intuitions spell within the olorkorna to imagine myself entering the room and searching through the pile of treasure within it. Nothing happened to me, so I believe it is safe."

Araquenval's assurances aside, they took care entering the secret room, but once inside quickly dismantled and sorted through a considerable stash. Two matched Arthedanian swords, both in good condition, they added to their general stock of weapons. Luinár claimed a fine, light, round shield, two feet in diameter, enamelled green on the front with the image of an elm tree.

On a shelf in the room Bradlegar found five bottles. Three held wine, one contained a green liquid that glowed slightly and bubbled, and the last appeared empty. Araquenval identified the green liquid as a potion that held a waterlungs spell, and after a quick discussion they gave it to Rhôn. The apparently empty bottle Bauglir determined contained a gas with a stun cloud spell: it seemed it was intended to be thrown while in battle, breaking the bottle to release its contents. Since Bradlegar had an accurate throwing arm, they gave this to him. The wine they added to their provisions.

Another treasure the hoard yielded up: a flawless gem, an Elfstone, green like the colour of sunlight through the leaves in spring, with an essence magic of some sort bound into it. When Araquenval could not determine purpose of the magic, Dennenor suggested it was what gave the stone its colour. Both Elves excitedly discussed the gem for some time, wondering which of the two should have it, for they would not allow the others that option. Araquenval settled the matter by saying, "You are better able to protect the gem from a potential thief," and gave it to Dennenor.

Then Mîriel showed a chain mail vest made of silver. Araquenval gasped when he saw it and nearly snatched it from her hands. Mîriel handed it to him and with great excitement he examined it.

"This is mithril!" he cried. "Such beauty and workmanship I have never seen before!"

In an instant Bauglir was beside him, also exploring the mail. But when he spoke, his voice sounded disappointed. "It is truly a fine work of silver," he said, "but it is not mithril. If it were, its value would be worth many castles."

Mîriel agreed with Bauglir, although Araquenval would not be persuaded it was made of something other than the fabled Dwarf silver. But even as silver it would fetch a fair sum from the proper buyer, so they added it to their collection.

Also in the room they found a small grey cloak, just the right size for Bradlegar. There was more to this than met the eye, for bound into the cloak, said Bauglir, was a hues spell that would give the wearer the ability to hide much better than without it. Unfortunately for the Hobbit, he could not understand the nature of the spell, and so did not take the cloak. But he did find ball of red yarn, and not willing to waste it put it into his pack.

The only injury they sustained that day, after fighting seven trolls, was a bite Araquenval received from a startled mouse when he lifted a rope off the floor. The rope was badly chewed and frayed, so they left it behind.

Once they had sorted, divided, and claimed the troll's cache, they prepared for the night. Bradlegar and Dennenor brought the horses inside, then closed and locked the door to the troll-hold. Bedrolls were put out and they retired to sleep. Watches were kept, first Dennenor and Mîriel, then Araquenval and Dennenor, and finally Bradlegar and Araquenval. The Orc roasting over the great fire in the large room burned into an unrecognizable crisp, and the fire itself eventually died out, but nothing else happened that night.

Back to top of page
Guided Tour

Day 21: Corlagon the Red

Day 19: Rain, Rain, Go Away

MERP Campaign #2: Index

MERP Campaign #3: Paul's MERP Campaign

Brian Lowe's Home Page

Brian Lowe / Winnipeg PC User Group / blowe@wpcusrgrp.org
Based on events played to November 21, 1997. Accesses since September 30, 1998: