Middle-Earth Role Playing Campaign

"How do you feel?" he was asked for at least the fifth time.

"I am well," he replied. He did not seem upset at having to answer the same question for everyone. "I feel as though I rested too long, but I am ready for a day's travel."

"Do you remember what happened yesterday?" asked Dennenor.

Araquenval tried to recall. "Not clearly. I recollect we had one or two visitors. Then I checked my pack and saw the gem we had taken the day before was missing. I remember nothing else until I awakened in my tent. I went outside, wondering why the sun was setting on the wrong side of the glade. Only then did I realise it was morning, and I had missed all of the previous evening and night."

"We were very worried about you," said Mîriel. "Four of us were stricken, myself included, but you were the last to wake."

They took a quiet, reflective breakfast together, trying to make sense of the terrible events that had unfolded there in the clearing barely twelve hours before. "It is possible they were agents of Angmar?" asked Araquenval.

"Maybe," said Bauglir. "Some very powerful mages live there--many of them Elves--under the control of the Witch-King. They could have been sent to intercept us."

Dennenor disagreed. "I do not think so," he said. "Had they been of Angmar, they would have fought us directly. But they appeared to be interested only in the gem we carried. I believe there was a very ancient magic at work there. We disturbed it, and it reached out to us from the distant past to reclaim its property."

"It may have even been the Witch-King's right hand man," mused Bauglir, still pursuing his line of thought. "He is possibly one of the most powerful magic using beings in this part of the world."

"Again, I do not think so," said Dennenor. "We are the only reason people from Angmar would be here and looking for us. The ones we met yesterday were not interested in us, only the gem."

"True," said Mîriel. "They did not appear to bear us any particular malice. If they were from Angmar, I suspect they would have destroyed us where we stood." She passed a mug to Araquenval. "Here, you should drink this. It will aid your recovery."

Araquenval examined its contents: the last of the athelas Mîriel had brewed a few short hours before. "I do not feel the need of it," he said, "but I shall take it."

After packing up the camp, they took to their horses and forded the river. On the far bank they searched carefully for any sign of the person Dennenor reported seeing the night before. They found nothing: not even Rhôn's sensitive nose and a spell cast by Luinár could ferret out any information.

Some hours they rode across the rolling grasslands, until at the base of a long gentle slope they came across a clay road running east and west across their path. Dismounting, Luinár and Rhôn examined it. "It sees much use," said Luinár. "I saw many horse and wagon tracks on the surface."

"Then we should take it," said Araquenval. "I see something to the west of us: a town, perhaps, or a castle sitting on a ledge of rock."

"It may be at a crossroads," said Dennenor. "There we may find one that takes us south."

"Then we should head for it."

The others agreed with Araquenval. Turning on to the road, they travelled west at a rapid pace. In the distance a castle became visible, planted on an outcropping of rock apparently a few hundred feet off the road. Even as they approached, they came upon grisly portents of the intentions of the castle's inhabitants: bodies of people in varying states of decay hung on ropes and in cages, while every few hundred feet along the road stood wooden stakes with bundles of skulls tied to them.

Coming closer, they saw several mounted horsemen galloping from the castle toward the road. The road itself ran into a narrow rock canyon. Suspecting a trap, they rode slowly through, weapons at the ready. Then, to no one's surprise, a group of some twenty men armed with tall axe-headed halberds congregated on the road, calling for the travellers to halt. Behind the men a tall wooden barricade was rolled across, blocking the road.

"I doubt these people are friendly," said Mîriel, unconcerned. "Otherwise they would take a different approach."

Her suspicions were confirmed when one of the men in the front row called to them. "In the name of our Lord Imlach, we demand a toll of two hundred gold pieces for the use of our road."

"Lord Imlach?" asked Rhôn. "Him lack what?"

Araquenval examined the rogues, unperturbed. "We offer you twenty," he said. The one who had demanded the toll laughed, and the others joined him. Turning to Bauglir, Araquenval said quietly to him in Sindarin, "Let us cast flying upon the horses, and I will do a group invisibility."

Dennenor did not like the idea. "When we are invisible, we would not be able to see each other."

"And that would not be good," said Mîriel. "But I do not see any bows among them. A couple of ball spells into the middle of this mess would help clean it up."

Now seven horsemen arrived on the scene, taking up position in the space between the back of the men and the barricade. They drew their swords and waved them about. Araquenval turned his attention back to the armed band, and in an exaggerated and condescending tone replied to their request for a toll. "Yes, we will gladly pay you two hundred gold pieces ... for the head of your Lord Imlach! The money will be coming from our lord and master, the Witch-King of Angmar!"

The men seemed unimpressed with the Elf's little speech. "We've heard that one before!" the speaker called back. "The only master we serve is our Lord Imlach! He pays our wages. We'll be taking your money now."

"I do not think so," replied Araquenval, raising a hand. He let loose the massive lightning bolt he had been preparing. A crack like thunder rolled over the assembled groups, then the sickening smell of charred flesh rose into the air. The top half of the speaker seemed to have vanished altogether. His bottom portion stood for a few moments, then tumbled to the ground. Araquenval's bolt carried on, stunning two of the men behind before dissipating.

The man on the left of the now dead speaker glanced at the smouldering remains. He looked back at the group. "How about fifty for the toll?" he asked.

Bradlegar replied with an arrow that struck the speaker directly on his helm. The man collapsed. No one else made a move to speak. Bauglir made an almost imperceptible gesture, and suddenly a large white ball exploded in midst of the band, blasting them with a searing, freezing cold. Frost and ice particles tinkled to the ground. Shouts erupted from the men, and the horses in the back reared up, throwing four of their riders. The others struggled to keep their mounts under control.

Two more joined the battle: Mîriel clunked an arrow off one of the men on the front, and Rhôn launched his boomerang. It flew with great force to the back of the group, smashing into the shoulder of one of the men still on his horse. The man screamed and managed to hold on, but any pretext of order among the rogues evaporated. Abandoning their weapons, they tried to escape by climbing the rock walls of the canyon. But they were thwarted by their own defenses, for the rock had been undercut over the years to prevent their victims from taking the same route.

"Those who kill the mounted horsemen will be allowed to live!" shouted Araquenval.

"Mercy! Mercy! No Toll!" cried the men. "Don't kill us! Just let us go!"

"Then leave your weapons here. Roll back the barricade and retreat from the road!"

The men did as they were ordered, piling their halberds on the road and retracting the barricade. Leaving the road, they congregated in a worried knot about fifty yards up the trail leading to the castle above. The group rode to the junction, examining the castle. Bradlegar watched the men closely, untrustful of their intent, for he had noticed many had crossbows. The horsemen carried morningstars.

"I like the look of that castle," said Bauglir. "Could you convince them to go up there and replace their current lord with a new one? We could offer them some gold out of his treasury: if the lord of the castle has been charging tolls all these years, he probably has a considerable stash up there. And while the defenders are looking at all these halberdiers, we could go invisible and slip in through the back way."

"I think we can do it," Araquenval replied. Turning to the men, he called to them. "I think I would like you to work for me and my retainers. I make you an offer: help us remove your current lord, and I will give you half of the treasure trove of his castle. We'll see if you prefer my leadership to that of Imlach's."

The men talked over the offer among themselves. One of them called back, "What guarantee do we have that you'll give us the gold you promised?"

"No guarantee. But it is probably a better offer than Imlach has given you. And even now I shall give you modest retainer from my personal store. All those who will assist me, step forward now and receive five pieces of gold."

"That is a lot of gold!" exclaimed Dennenor in Sindarin.

"Consider it an investment," said Bauglir. "I suspect there is much more than that in the castle." He removed several coins from his belt pouch and began flipping them to the ground. Several of the men ran forward, scrambling for the gold. But the cavalrymen, standing on the ground, holding their horses' reigns, held back, unconvinced.

"Ten for the cavalry," called Araquenval.

"You think you're powerful," one of the horsemen said, "but Imlach's got his own dark worker up there."

"Even if he does, he is but one, and we are seven," said Araquenval. "Imlach was unwise in trying to bother us. Between us we will teach him a lesson."

His smooth words turned the hearts of the remaining men. As they came forward to collect their gold, a horn sounded anxiously from the castle above.

Rhôn smiled from his horse. "Now Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn knows. Him lack a castle!"

"You may wish to slip invisible into the castle and deal with the mage," Dennenor suggested to Araquenval.

"I would like to bring down a section of the wall," said Araquenval. "Then we all could charge in."

"Do not damage the castle!" exclaimed Bauglir. "It will make a good base for us."

"A good base indeed," said Dennenor. "We are presently about only two or three day's journey from Imladris. A few day's delay here would not hinder us, and would secure our position in this area."

"Well, Bauglir," said Araquenval, "how about we go in and remove this Imlach?"

"A good idea," responded Bauglir. "How will we recognize him?"

Araquenval looked at Dennenor. "Ask for good descriptions of Imlach and the mage," he said.

The warrior Elf in turn looked at one of the horsemen who had just finished counting his new found wealth. "You! You will describe for me what that knave, your ex-lord Imlach, looks like, as well as the nasty person who can apparently work magic."

Now richer by some ten pieces of gold, the man showed no qualms and spoke freely. "Imlach is tall, like the Dúnedain folk, but wears a moustache like a Hillman. He dresses for battle in plate armour. The other is called Aristus the Black. I fear him much more than Imlach. It is said he has a cruel streak in him; that he takes poor blighters down into the dungeons below the keep and does horrid things to them: sacrifices them and such. He always dresses in black. He stands out and you will not miss him. In fact, he looks like one who may have cast the cold ball into us." The man looked around. "Where is he?"

Dennenor realized that both Araquenval and Bauglir had taken advantage of the opportunity afforded them and had gone invisible. "He is presently attending to other business. You shall now go before us to the castle, and stand before the gates, and there call for them to be opened."

"And when they do," said Luinár, "you will charge inside and secure the castle. Demand the surrender of all the men, and kill any who does not."

"There is a score more archers up there, probably in the gate towers," said one of the men. "As well, Imlach has his own personal bodyguard in there. Each one is the commander of a tower. They're brutes."

"Show me the toughest three, and I'll take them," Luinár retorted.

Convinced of the bravado of their new leaders, if not of their ability to storm the castle, they said, "We should pick up our weapons before we do this."

"Then as a group we will return to the road to collect them," said Dennenor.

The horsemen remounted. Watched carefully from behind by Dennenor, Luinár, and the others, the men assembled into their regular ranks and walked to the road to gather their weapons.

Araquenval and Bauglir walked invisible to the castle. It was a strong affair of sturdy stone walls punctuated with towers that rose from the ledge of rock on which it stood. The walls of the ledge had been scalloped away over the years, making the approach even steeper. Above the barbican, the strong gate-house into the castle, stood a round tower. At the base of the castle walls Araquenval read the flying spell off the rune paper he carried. Bauglir also cast flying, and the two mages floated up unseen against the wall.

They took a moment to survey their surroundings. Many buildings could be seen inside the castle wall. In the courtyard five men in dark plate armour were mounting up and making ready for battle. Imlach himself was easy enough to spot: he was on the wall, leaning over the battlements, his face nearly purple with anger. A dozen men, six on on either side, covered the area with crossbows. While Bauglir flew off in search of Aristus, Araquenval quietly landed on the wall a few feet from Imlach. Watching his friends and the others approach the gates, he began preparing a lightning bolt.

Dennenor, Luinár, and the others pulled up just outside arrow range of the castle. Still on his horse, Dennenor called to the people collected on the walls. "We are the new lords of this castle! You will deliver up to me your ex-lord Imlach for the trial and punishment he deserves!"

His voice rang with authority. Hearing the command, the men bearing crossbows began to move away from Imlach. Their lord did not notice: he was gazing upon the traitors below. Furious, he replied to Dennenor's demand. "You imputous bastards!" he bellowed. "Who do you think you are? I have many more men than you have down there! I am the one who owns this castle! King Broga made it so! Turn around and leave now, and perhaps I will let you go with your skins intact! I should have you all flayed in my dungeons for this!"

Dennenor mocked the man's threats. "What know we of Broga, aside from the fact he is a doddering old imbecile lying about in his castle suffering from the onslaught of senility and gout? We have ridden across Angmar, escaped from the clutches of the Witch-King's minions, slain Corlagon, the great Dragon of the Pass, and fought Trolls twice the height of the gates of your castle! You will let us enter!"

"And we have Bradlegar the Bold with us!" added Luinár.

Imlach made no answer; perhaps he was overcome with rage. Fixing his gaze upon him, Dennenor taunted further. "Imlach! Your time here is over! No longer will you be able to terrorize the innocent citizens of this area! Your reign is at an end!"

Trembling with near apoplexy, Imlach found his tongue at last and shrieked from the wall, "One more word out of you, and I'll come down and cut you down myself!"

Araquenval slipped in behind him. Placing his hand on the lord's bottom, he loosed the lightning bolt. The discharge blasted through the man, surging upward through his heart and into his head. Imlach's brain exploded, sending his helm sailing high in the air, then the headless body lurched upward and plummeted over the castle wall. It landed with a crunch on the rocks below, blood pouring from between the shoulders, wisps of smoke drifting upwards. His helm came to the ground a few feet away.

Now visible, Araquenval looked around at the stunned crossbowmen. Raising his eyebrows, he asked with an entirely innocent air, "Are you working for me now?" The men scattered in panic along the battlements. Down below, Dennenor called for the gates to be opened. Then from the round tower over the barbican a lightning bolt zipped and smashed into the wall beside Araquenval, narrowly missing him. The Elf looked up to see a man dressed in a black robe looking at him from a window above.

Ah, that's where he is! thought Bauglir, noting the source of the bolt. He flew around the tower to an open window and quietly floated in. Another man, dressed all in black, was in the room, staring out a window to the wall below. Softly as not to alert the mage to his presence, Bauglir floated over, then quietly landed and stood behind him. But he could not resist a taunt as he prepared to strike. "Good-bye, Aristus," he said, and drove Durax's sword of pain into the man's back.

The black mage gasped and turned around to see what had hit him. Then he shrieked as the shock bolt spell bound into the sword discharged. Bauglir shoved forward on the sword, and the body of Aristus fell through the window to the battlement below.

"The castle is ours!" called Araquenval from his place on the castle wall. "Imlach is dead! All those who are loyal to me and my fellows may have a share of the treasure trove here. Those who are not shall leave now! We will give you one day's travel before we hunt you down and kill you!"

He looked into the courtyard. The crossbowmen were running across, diving into various buildings. Inside the barbican, at least one person was convinced of his service to the new masters and began opening the gates. But the five bodyguards of the fallen lord rode into the gap. Sitting in formation on their horses, they cried, "Traitors! Cowards! When we take back this castle you will all be flayed and hung from the battlements to dry!"

Another of their number called, "Send your leaders forward! We will show you who the real warriors around here are!"

Luinár heard their taunt and said to the others, "Rhôn, Dennenor, are you with me?"

"Yes," they replied, and Bradlegar responded also. With Mîriel following, they rode around the men clustered an arrow's length from the castle and approached. Facing the five horsemen standing in the gate, Dennenor called to them, "You have a chance to surrender now and avoid the fate your lord and his mage have suffered."

The men responded with disdain, unaware their lord was lying in a headless smouldering heap on the wrong side of the castle wall. "This castle's gold will be ours," one snapped, "and you will be left lying dead in the dirt! We are not sure what has happened, but we will be taking the castle back for our own!"

Twang! And one of Bradlegar's arrows zipped in, puncturing a leg of the man in the centre. He must have hit an artery, for blood sprang out in a red fountain. The man screamed and toppled off his horse. "Well done, my betrothed!" called Luinár.

"Again, I call for your surrender!" shouted Dennenor. "One of your men is down already. How many more of you wish to die?"

They replied by kicking their horses into a gallop and charging their challengers, swords extended. Watching the action from the wall, Araquenval had been expecting this and launched the spell in his ring. A wall of water sprang up in the path of the charging riders. Unable to stop or even turn, two of the horses plunged directly into it. They splashed their way out again in moments, but left both horse and rider disoriented.

The other two carried through with the charge, clashing with Dennenor and Rhôn. Seeing too late Elf's great blade, the one charging Dennenor pulled up short and attempted to parry. He fumbled and dropped his sword. It clattered to the stones beneath his horse. Dennenor smashed the man's leg, then struck again and broke the other one. Beside him, Rhôn's leg was saved from the sword only by the greaves he wore.

Gripping her spear with both hands, Luinár charged up the trail and impaled one of the two men struggling to recover from their encounter with Araquenval's water wall. Off he tumbled from his horse, staining the stones red beneath him.

By now Araquenval had joined his fellow mage in the barbican. Watching the battle below from their vantage point, he said to Bauglir, "We should decide who takes possession of Imlach's quarters."

"We will need to find them first," replied Bauglir. "In this little place, they would either be here or in the keep across the courtyard." A clang sounded from the road as Luinár suffered a minor hit.

Mîriel fired an arrow into the fray, but the man she struck did not even notice. She backed her horse away from the front lines, readying her next arrow. Bradlegar shot the man who had attacked Rhôn.

"And we will need to determine how to finance this place once we are in charge," Bauglir continued. He smiled. "We could collect tolls from travellers on the road."

The rider in front of Rhôn attacked, again slashing the woodman's leg. Rhôn gripped the front of his saddle to stay on.

"Nay, no tolls," replied Araquenval. "Rather, reasonable taxes paid to the rightful rulers of this part of the land."

Bradlegar fired an arrow at the warrior who had hit Luinár, but it pinged off the man's armour.

"We need to design a new flag, too," said Araquenval as he watched Luinár attack the other soaked rider. The man seemed as well equipped as she was and almost as skilled, but Luinár was quicker and struck him with her spear.

"I like gold on a blue background," Bauglir responded.

Dennenor whacked the man who had just knocked Rhôn. Although he seemed to have inflicted but a minor wound, the man swayed uneasily in his saddle. Another of Mîriel's arrows flew in and struck. Suddenly the man wheeled his horse around and rode down the slope off the road.

"One moment, Bauglir," said Araquenval, launching a quick fire bolt at the man still sparring with Luinár. He screamed in pain and flung himself from his horse, rolling on the ground to douse his burning clothing.

"Oh, stop your whining," snapped Bauglir, sending a searing bolt of his own toward the unfortunate man. He cried out once more before falling silent.

Seeing one of the riders flee the scene, Bradlegar quickly rode over to the road's edge and fired. His arrow struck and the man fell off, laying motionless on the ground while his horse galloped away. Dennenor rode down to examine the body. Seeing the man was dead, he rode back, arriving just in time to hear Luinár ask the cavalrymen, "So, those brutes you were talking about ... where would they be?"

They laughed with her at her little joke.

"Get these walls cleaned up!" ordered Dennenor when at last they had secured the surrender of everyone in the castle. "All the bodies shall be removed by sundown. A troupe of men shall go down to the road and remove the poles and cages. The bodies we will bury as soon as we can dig a proper grave. And bring me the bodies of Imlach and Aristus!" Various groups of halberdiers and crossbowmen ran off to do his bidding.

Once the cleanup had begun, the victors took a few minutes to survey their prize. The castle's name, they quickly learned, was Beraid-i-Mithras: Towers of Greycrag. Its aptly named thick grey walls stood twenty feet high. In addition to the barbican over the gate and the keep at the back, the walls connected five towers of various heights. Although it formed part of the castle's perimeter, the keep stood on high point of land opposite the gate. Four storeys tall it was, and appeared to be very spacious. And the castle itself was not the only prize, for with it came a modest standing army. It consisted of twenty-three halberdiers, twenty crossbowmen, and seven cavalry: forty-eight fighting men in all, plus the servants required to run the castle.

Araquenval called the cavalrymen over to him. "We expect your loyalty," he told them.

"And our loyalty you have," they replied.

"Which of you will you elect as your chief?" asked Araquenval. "I intend to make him the Captain of the Guard." They discussed the question for a couple of minutes, then by mutual agreement chose one known as Amalak.

"Good," said Araquenval when they had selected the captain. "When Imlach was your master, how much did he pay you?"

"About a gold piece a month," Amalak replied.

"I now raise that. As Captain, Amalak will receive two gold and two silver a month, and the others two gold each."

The bodies of the lords arrived, impertinently dragged over the ground on the spikes of halberds: the men seemed reluctant to touch them. Immediately the group set to searching them. For weapons Imlach had carried a superior broadsword and a fine composite bow. Likewise his armour was excellent: mail formed of small black overlapping scales fastened to a leather jacket, a fine helm with a black plume, arm and leg greaves, and a good shield bearing the device of a sword on a field parted with red and blue. About his arms were silver bands that Dennenor claimed for himself, and on one finger was a sapphire set in a golden ring. Beneath his armour he wore good clothing, but the fine tunic was sadly singed about the collar.

Bauglir searched the body of Aristus. He was immediately interested in two thin metal strips coiled over his cloak about the upper arms. Carefully removing them, Bauglir discovered they were quite sharp; apparently they held some sort of defensive value. He added them to his own attire. The deceased mage also wore a pendant of intricately intertwining gold lace, in the centre of which was set a ruby. Bauglir could sense magic contained within, but he could not identify its purpose. He handed it to Mîriel.

She scrutinized the pendant. Red light danced within the ruby, almost like a flame. Then Mîriel looked up and cast her gaze upon the battlements, and a sheet of fire erupted atop the castle walls. "The amulet can cast this twice a day." she reported. "This is something powerful, and I can use it at a distance. It would make me useful in battle."

"I have no objections to you keeping it," said Bauglir. Neither did anyone else, so she added it to her collection.

"Do you make anything of this?" asked Dennenor, handing her the ring they had taken from Imlach. This Mîriel examined also, then said, "This is also magical: it can cast a spell known as hold kind three times a day."

The black robe of Aristus contained no magic at all: it appeared to be more theatrical than anything else. But a pocket hidden within contained fifteen pieces of gold. Araquenval added them to the twenty they had found on Imlach.

"This has only whetted my appetite," said Bauglir. "Where is the treasure?"

"We do not know," Amalak replied. "We were never allowed to see where the loot stolen from the travellers was put. The men in the bodyguard knew, but you killed them all. I suspect Imlach kept a key in his quarters."

"Then we will search his room," said Araquenval. "You will take us there."

"Yes, my lord," the captain responded. He led them across the courtyard to the stone keep at the far end of the castle. Climbing the steep path up the knoll upon which it stood, they entered. Inside, the keep was every bit as impressive as it was outside: solid timbers supported on pillars of arched stone formed the ceilings of the rooms on the main floor. As they passed through a small room that separated the entry chamber from the great hall, Amalak pointed to a heavy trap door in one corner, bound with iron bands.

"Down there is the dungeon," he said.

"Is anyone being held prisoner there now?" asked Dennenor.

"Can't say for sure," came the reply. "It is another place we were never allowed to go. A couple of weeks ago, however, we pulled a cantankerous Dwarf off the road. He wouldn't pay his toll. Then he seemed to go berserk--he attacked the patrol when they tried to extract the toll from him. So Imlach had him pulled up here. Last we saw of him he was dragged into the dungeon. Might still be there. But if Aristus got to him, he's dead."

"We should check this out at our earliest opportunity," said Dennenor.

Araquenval corrected him "We will check this out now. A prisoner is more important than treasure."

"Is there a key for the dungeon?" asked Dennenor.

"Doubtless Imlach had one," said Amalak. "The five brutes in his bodyguard did, too."

"It would take too long to find a key. Bradlegar?"

The Hobbit ran and examined the lock carefully. Then he pulled out some tools, and after working for a minute and a half announced, "You can open it up, now."

Dennenor pulled on the heavy ring to open the trap door, then quickly dropped it again. Locating a rag, he wiped his hands on it. "Check that ring, Mîriel," he said. "Is there any poison on it?"

Mîriel stooped and examined the door. "Klytun," she reported after a minute. "It seems to have lost a bit of its potency. You were lucky, Dennenor; were this any stronger you could have been put into a coma for week!"

They lit a lantern and went down, carefully, aware there may be other traps set for the unwary. A disturbing and sorry sight greeted them at the end of the cold stone stairwell: Aristus had set up a genuine torture chamber in the dungeon. From the large rack in the centre of the room, to pokers and beds of spikes, to the straw stained a deep ruddy brown on the floor, the dark room cried out with pain and suffering. Along the wall where the stairs entered were six solid doors.

Methodically they checked the cells, shining the light of the lamp into them through a tiny window set in the door. The first two were empty, but the third seemed occupied. Anxiously, Dennenor called out, "Hello? Hello?"

A low moan emanated from the cell.

"He's alive!" cried Dennenor. "Can we get this door open?"

The cell was of course locked, and there did not appear to be any keys in the vicinity, but Bradlegar had it open in moments.

"We come in peace," said Dennenor as the swung open the door. "We have taken this tower from its former owners and have slain them."

The prisoner made no reply. Mîriel entered and examined the him. It was a dwarf, in a pitiable state: dirty, stinking, his beard terribly matted. Dennenor offered his water skin, and the Dwarf tried to drink, but gagged.

"Slow down!" Mîriel cautioned. "You're very weak from hunger and thirst." She cast a spell to detect disease and found nothing.

"Can you walk?" asked Luinár he had emptied the skin. Grimly, with great determination, the Dwarf got to his feet, but even as he tried to take a step he staggered and fell down again. Luinár stooped down to pick him up. "I will carry you upstairs, where my sister will tend you," she said.

"Wait!" called Bradlegar. He found a tattered excuse of a blanket. "I'm going to put this over your head," he explained. "It will protect your eyes from the light." The Dwarf nodded his understanding. Bradlegar carefully draped the cloth over his eyes, then Luinár carried him up the stairs and into the main hall. She found a bench and laid him upon it.

"My armour! My weapons!" he said feebly. "I have to get them back!"

"All in good time," said Mîriel softly. She examined him carefully. He bore many bruises and contusions, evidence of repeated beatings. While the others gave what comfort they could to the poor dwarf, Mîriel crushed a lembas wafer into a bowl of water and gave it to him to drink. He slowly and carefully drank the broth, and Mîriel concentrated on a regeneration spell to heal the effects of the batterings.

It took nearly half an hour for the Dwarf to finish the bowl, and when it was empty he set it down on the bench and fell into a deep and contented sleep.

"We've done what we can for the Dwarf," said Mîriel. "I will stay behind to watch over him. You might as well continue your inspection of the castle."

Leaving Mîriel behind with her patient, the others climbed the stairs to the top of the tower where Imlach had built his chambers. They were filled with fine furnishings, doubtless collected as tolls from passing groups. A great four posted bed with a tall canopy and fine curtains dominated the main room. Checking behind a large faded tapestry, Bradlegar's keen eyes spotted one stone that seemed a slightly lighter shade than the rest. He called Luinár over. After a focused examination they determined it was a merely a veneer covering a small opening in the wall. Opening it was almost trivial. Keys were hidden behind, which Luinár took. A locked, heavy trap door accessed by a ladder kept under the bed proved to be an exit to the roof. Luinár opened the door and removed Imlach's flag.

The search of Imlach's chambers complete, they descended to the main level. In the Great Hall they pondered again the location of the main treasure stores. Dennenor suggested a search of the Well Tower, saying it would be heavily defended against a siege. Araquenval offered an alternate opinion: he suspected the vault could be in the dungeons, for they had stopped searching the cells when they had found the Dwarf. He recommended to the others they should look there. He himself would be staying behind, for he was tired from the spells he had cast during the battle to take the place and needed to rest.

Not wanting Amalak tagging along and thus learning the location of the castle's treasure, Bauglir ordered him to check in on his men. Then he, Dennenor, Bradlegar, and Luinár descended again into the dark dungeon. While Bauglir amused himself by inspecting the equipment in the torture chamber, the others checked the remaining cells. In the last one they uncovered a heavy trap door hidden under the straw. Bradlegar immediately set to examining the lock. Concealed within was a strange mechanism that made him feel uneasy; closer inspection revealed it to be a trap of some sort. But it took less than two minutes of tinkering for the skilled Hobbit to disable the mechanism. After trying three keys, he had the lock open.

"Before we continue," asked Dennenor, "would there be any other traps here that might be sprung when the door is opened?"

Bradlegar searched the cell. "Nothing much," he replied, "except for that bunch of spikes up there."

Everyone snapped their eyes upwards. The Hobbit had not lied: set into the ceiling and covering the entire cell were many long, sharp spikes secured to an iron grid. Hastily they retreated to the large room outside.

"I see a switch of some sort on the back wall inside the cell," said Luinár. "Might that have something to do with the spikes?"

"It could well be another trap to bring the lot of them down on the poor fool who flips the switch," said Dennenor. "But Bradlegar has that yarn. Perhaps we could put it to use."

"No problem!" was the reply. Bradlegar ran to get the ball of red yarn from his supplies, and Dennenor followed him out. The Hobbit came back first, and he and Luinár carefully threaded the yarn around the switch and back out of the cell. With everyone outside, Bradlegar gave a deft tug and the switch reversed position. All was quiet: nothing appeared to have changed.

Now Dennenor arrived, bearing the olorkorna. "I borrowed this from Araquenval while he rested," he said. "I shall use this to determine if it is safe to open the trap door." He gazed into blue interior of the stone, but after a minute looked up at the others. "I cannot bring forth a vision from this," he told the others. "But I suspect you would know how to work it." He handed it to Bauglir.

With the ease of one skilled in magic, Bauglir swiftly invoked the intuitions spell bound into the olorkorna. Moments later he announced the room was safe. Eagerly they entered the cell, and Dennenor opened the trap door, and Bradlegar let down a lantern. Golden light reflected back to them.

They descended into the chamber. The room beneath the dungeon cell was enough to lighten the eyes of even the most ascetic of people. Gold and silver coins overflowed from open chests that sat on the floor and upon a great table. Fine weapons and armour lay carefully stacked about the room, and magnificent shields hung from the walls.

"Careful!" said Bauglir when everyone had descended the steep staircase into the treasure chamber. "A spell have I cast to detect traps, and from it I see there is a definite trap in the big closed chest, as well as on that shield on the wall. Do not attempt to remove the shield, or we will all be gassed out."

Alerted to its presence, Bradlegar had the simple trap on the large chest disarmed in moments. Inside was gold: a lot of it. Greedily Bauglir dumped out the contents and began sorting and counting. The hoard amounted to nearly six hundred coins, issued by a dozen different kings in nearly as many lands. Other chests contained some silver and many bronze coins.

When they had finished examining the weapons, they piled the gold coins back into the large chest, then closed it and re-armed the trap. Then they left the treasure room and reset the traps in the last cell.

"I have accomplished what I wanted to do," said Bauglir when they entered the Great Hall again. "I have escaped from the control of the Witch-King's priesthood and made it out of Angmar. Since we will need someone to look after this place once we make the final leg of the journey to Rivendell, I will stay behind and do so."

A couple of hours later Araquenval brought them all together, then called everyone in the castle to gather in the courtyard. Standing before them with his companions, Araquenval addressed them. While he spoke, with Amalak's assistance Mîriel wrote down the names of every person in the assembly.

"Today marks a happy day in your lives," he began, "the day when the unhappy condition of working for ...." He paused for effect. "Who was that lout who lost his head, anyways? Oh, you all forgot his name? That's good."

"Imlach the headless," offered Bradlegar.

"Him lack a head," said Araquenval. There were some groans from the crowd. "Under our guidance, prosperity, happiness, and health shall follow you. As those who were wise enough to join us in the initial assault received an advance bonus ..." The men who had received the advance cheered. Caught off guard, Araquenval stumbled over his thoughts, then a little clumsily picked up his speech again. "... there are a number of matters of business, and we will be talking to you, in groups and as individuals, over the next day or so. Some we will give special assignments and responsibilities, which will of course involve special pay and bonuses. You will find that we are generous, and that we will earn your loyalty, and that life will have much more fulfillment and happiness!"

Here he paused, but did not receive the applause he had expected, so he carried on. "Captain Amalak here suggests your current rate of pay of a silver piece a month is inadequate. From now it will be two silver a month!" That netted him some cheers. "And for those that we assign special responsibilities to, we will pay even more.

"This little castle will benefit us somewhat, but we also have other responsibilities. Therefore, we have determined that my subordinate here, Bauglir, will be left in charge along with his second-in-command, Amalak. My subordinate Bauglir has great credentials." As Araquenval had expected, Bauglir bristled at being referred to as a subordinate. "You will find that he is a competent leader, and with him in charge you should have no fear of attacks from Orcs, Trolls, or dragons. He has fought them all. And most importantly, he has my feelings of ..." He paused again, looking for a word. "... respect. Yes, I respect the man!"

The others gritted their collective teeth, but kept smiling.

"Shortly we will be sending emissaries to Cameth Brin, and there establish with King Broga our lawful right to hold this castle and the lands around it. But even before this is done, we expect you will be receiving more money with less threat to your lives!" More cheering. Talk of titles and faraway kings they may not have understood, but they knew full well what more money meant.

Araquenval's address completed, the crowd dispersed, and the new owners returned to the keep.

"Here is the list of the people in the castle," said Mîriel when the seven had reassembled in Imlach's quarters on the top floor of the keep. She handed Araquenval the paper she had prepared during his speech. "There are some bad apples here, most of whom seem to enjoy collecting tolls a little too much. I don't think they're a threat. But these--" she pointed to three names she had underlined, "--we would be better off without. The detect evil spell I had going during your rambling speech showed them up."

"We have another problem," said Dennenor. "Remember back there on the road, one of our number rashly offered half the treasure of the castle to the people who helped us?"

"And half they shall receive," replied Araquenval. "But instead of giving each his share, we will retain it within the treasury--for safekeeping, you understand, lest the men try to steal from each other."

Dennenor did not like Araquenval's glib solution, but he pressed a new point. "In addition, we'll be paying out fourteen gold a month for cavalry."

"I say we give them one gold a month," said Bauglir. "I know we offered them two out there on the road."

"That would not look good!" said Dennenor sharply. "They were receiving a gold a month before we took over."

"I will charm them into thinking it's good," said Araquenval.

"And I am not adverse to it," Bauglir added. "After all, it is my money!"

Outvoted, Dennenor conceded the point. But he had more to say. "Running this place will take money as well. I understand we will not be pursuing the same kind of activities to collect cash as did the previous owner."

"That is something we will have to look into," said Bauglir. "We do not know what sort of tithe system this place has worked on. If we are offering protection to the surrounding villages and farms, then it is their reciprocal task to offer us a certain amount of food in the form of tithes. I do not know how much the villagers use money, but there may also be a tax system in place. There is no doubt this place has been getting money from somewhere."

"I suspect a fair amount of it came from unsuspecting travellers on the road!" exclaimed Dennenor. "Basically, we have cut off that source of income!"

"No," explained Araquenval, patiently handling Dennenor's outbursts. "It is a legitimate means of raising cash. We require the funds for the upkeep of the road and for the protection those who would travel upon it. But you can collect it in a more reasonable fashion than sending brigands out on the road."

"For example, a copper piece per horse," said Bauglir. "And if they do not have the money, we will not rip it out of them. But if, say, a merchant comes by with his wagon train, he would be expected to pay a toll. He's ruining our road; he should be expected to pay for its repair."

"It is satisfactory," said Dennenor. He looked at Bauglir. "Just do not be too hard on our people."

Bauglir returned the Elf's gaze with a satisfied expression. "They will be happier under me than they were under Imlach," he said. "I am far more competent than he was."

The three men Mîriel had selected were released from service that same day, and with the help of a few pieces of silver and Araquenval's charm spells they departed joyful with the change in their situation.

"Aristus was the castle steward," said Amalak after the men had left. "He kept the ledgers and the books. So we should check his quarters in the barbican to see how much he sent to Broga, and when."

For all the rumours of his cruel and nasty nature, Aristus appeared to have been an adequate administrator and secretary. In his quarters were several books, their rambling pages filled with dates, items, and amounts casually recorded in a thin, ungraceful script. After much searching, the group determined the last tax sent to Broga was one hundred pieces of gold for all the lands within five miles of the castle.

The books also indicated under Imlach's rule the taxation of the people living on the lands had been heavy, and he had been selling the excess grain and livestock to neighbouring areas for a tidy profit. In one of the books they discovered he had been given the castle by his father, opening up the possibility of a claim by a relative once news of his demise became known.

The books had been easy enough to find, for they were kept in an open desk in the room. In addition to it and the bed, a large secure box made of some type of stone and mortar sat in one corner. Bradlegar scrutinized the lock. It was a complicated affair made of many tumblers, and he saw runes inscribed on it. These Araquenval and Bauglir examined.

"Runes of fire," said Bauglir. "If the lock is tampered with, it will release a large fireball."

"Perhaps an undoor spell would work," said Araquenval.

"It may be considered tampering," said Bauglir.

"I shall see," Araquenval replied, taking out the olorkorna. Less than a minute later he looked up and said, "It did not work. I cast the undoor and immediately the room was consumed in a blaze of fire and heat."

Many options they considered for opening the safe, from moving it out to the courtyard to casting a crush stone spell on it. Araquenval tried a spell to remove the essence magic Bauglir had detected permeating the safe, but it had no effect. In the end they removed all the flammable material from the room and set up a couple of water walls within to protect Mîriel. Then the others evacuated the area while she prepared and cast a cancelling spell. That done, she called to the others to check her success. Bauglir entered and declared he could find no more magic on the safe. Hearing this, the others entered, and Araquenval dismissed his water walls.

Bradlegar set to opening the lock, but its mechanism was beyond even his considerable skill and after several minutes of frustrating effort he gave up. Araquenval then cast a portal spell to open a hole in the side. Its contents accessible at last, they removed them and sorted through the lot. The haul consisted of five hundred bronze coins, a hundred and ten silver, a large seashell known as a conch worked into a horn, and a key glowing green. After a quick examination, Bauglir discerned the conch could do a fog call spell once a day.

The key was more interesting. Araquenval noted it was never actually used as such: it bore no marks of any sort, and the metal from which it was made seemed almost to be bendable. Bauglir ventured the key perhaps held symbolic or magical properties, and in the right circumstances it might reveal something. To gain more information, Araquenval cast a delving spell. Strangely, it did not reveal as much as he had expected. He did determine the key was intimately connected with the castle, and at the right place at the right time, if a person holding the key in his hand touched something, then something will be revealed.

They wondered why such a powerful thing was in the mage's possession. Perhaps it was a little secret he was keeping from the master of the castle.

Two celebrations were held in the castle that night. In the main hall of the keep, a grand meal had been prepared to the order of the new masters and was served with ceremony. Bradlegar, happy once again to have four walls about him and a roof over his head, made merry and danced on the tables, while his love Luinár challenged the strong men of the castle to arm wrestles.

Out in the courtyard, servants, maids, and stable hands met in the common-house, rejoicing at the turn of fate that had suddenly replaced both their cruel masters with ones so much more generous. "First day was all right," one them said to his friends around the table. "Do you think they'll keep on this way?"

"Don't know," another replied, holding firm to his beer. "But I saw they got rid of Gornak, Duff, and Makmeash. How they spotted them three out I don't know, but we're better off for the loss of them, that's sure!"

A maid passing by the table caught their conversation and sat down to join them. "They're a strange bunch, aren't they?" she asked. "They just blew in here like the wind and no time flat killed off Imlach, Aristus, and the five captains! Powerful sorcery there, I tell ya! Can't say it's going to lead to good."

"Can't be worse that what we've suffered all these years," the first one said. "I heard their leader--if that's what he is--the tall handsome one with the silvery voice--just before dinner ordered the garrison to destroy all the torture stuff down in the dungeon."

"He did, did he?" said his friend. "I'd wondered if old Aristus had kept some nasty devices down there, but I wasn't about to go down myself to check it out, if you know what I mean. Didn't fancy much becoming his next victim, that's for sure!"

The first one spoke again. "And the place is going smell a bit better with all those bodies gone off the walls. That's the first thing they did after they took over. I think it's a good sign."

"Well," said the maid, "I hope they all don't stay around. There's that short fat man that looks like he's kissing cousin to a toad! I nearly fainted when I saw his face the first time."

The first man grinned. "And there's that warrior woman," he said. "You may have fainted when you saw the fat man, but my eyes nearly sprang out of my head when that lady took off her helmet! She's lucky she's got that big sword and knows how to use it, else the men round here would be storming her bedroom!"

All three laughed heartily at the first one's comment. "And who's that lad they've got with them?" asked the second man. "Don't look more than twelve or so, but shoots an arrow better than most of the fancy archers Imlach had."

"Oh, he's no boy," said the maid. A sly smile came across her face. The other two knew it from experience: she had a piece of juicy gossip to share. "He's a man all right, just a bit shorter than most. And you know what?"

"What?" the other two asked, knowing she would tell them.

"He's got the hots for the warrior woman!" She shrieked with laughter, and the other men at the table roared. "No!" cried the first man. "That little man and that big woman?"

"It's true, it is!" the maid insisted. "Why, I was just talking with Jerany, and she was up at the keep serving at the fancy dinner they're eating. She said those two couldn't keep their eyes off each other!"

And so the conversation continued, at that table and half a dozen others in the common-house. The party ran into the small hours of the morning, but Amalak made sure the guard on wall was maintained.

When the dinner in the keep was over and the moon rose over the castle walls, each of the travellers found a room in which to rest. Most of them stayed in the keep, but Araquenval made his way along the castle walls to the chambers Aristus had occupied only the night before.

Before retiring, Mîriel cast a dream spell, hoping to glean some more information about the mysterious key they had found. And while she slept, she dreamed she was standing in front of a wall that seemed to stretch up to the sky, running in both directions as far as she could see. She drifted up the wall as though flying, until a particular stone caught her attention. She touched it, and the stone squirmed and wriggled, then it moved and another took its place. Now she saw another stone, and touched it also, and the same happened. Frustrated, she flew along the wall to another place, to a dark brown stone she knew was there. And when she touched it, it moved inward, and she could see blue sky, and reflected in it was the green key. Then Mîriel awoke. She felt puzzled by the dream and unable to grasp its meaning.

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Based on events played to July 03, 1998. Accesses since September 30, 1998: