Middle-Earth Role Playing Campaign

"I agree," said Mîriel. "We should do what we can to assure the people here realize we are not about to abandon them."

"There is the matter of the tax to Broga," Araquenval noted. "It will be due within three months. But I think we should send him a token now, to assure him we intend to keep the castle for him and not use it as a base from which to challenge his rule. It was a simple matter to kill off Imlach and Aristus, but I do not fancy holding out against a siege by Broga's troops."

"Do we send him the gold we have in treasury?" asked Bauglir.

"We've got a lot of gold, and not necessarily in coins," offered Bradlegar. "How about those plates and goblets we took from Corlagon?"

"Good idea, Bradlegar," said Luinár. "But not the whole lot all at once. Any one set of them is probably worth half a year's taxes. We have ten plates and ten goblets. How about we send him a plate and goblet now, then again next year. We would be in his good graces for a decade!"

Rhôn, taciturn as always, said simply, "Hope Broga like gold bowls."

"I like the idea," said Bauglir. "When things have settled down here, I will arrange for the first set to be delivered."

"Good," said Mîriel. "Before we part, you and I should sit down and discuss how this place will be run from now on. We can do great things here, like setting up trading relationships with the Dwarves, and easing the burden of the people in the area by reducing taxes and tolls. But for now, I have a patient to visit."

The Dwarf was awake and eating when Mîriel arrived, finishing off his fifth bowl of gruel. His condition was much improved, for he had bathed, and cleaned and combed his yellow beard. He looked at Mîriel as she came in. Recognizing her, he asked querulously, "Where's my weapons? Where's my treasure? Have they been stolen on me?"

Although taken aback by the abrupt greeting, Mîriel answered calmly, "I suggest you write out a list and we will search for it as best we can."

"Hmph!" said the Dwarf. "I had several wagonloads coming from Khazad-dûm to the Blue Mountains. Those bastards stole it all as their 'toll!' If it looks like it belonged to a dwarf, it was probably was mine! My axe and my armour I miss the most."

Suddenly, realising he was addressing his rescuer, and a lady at that, he remembered his manners. "My name's Gungnir Silvernail, trader and smith, at your service!"

"And I am Mîriel," came the reply. "Can you recall anything else that you may have lost, such as was on your wagons?"

"Hmmm," thought Gungnir. "Goods for trading, and my smithing tools."

"It is possible the goods may have been sold already. Interesting you should mention smithing tools. There is a smithy here, but the one who works it is not as skilled as we would like."

The Dwarf ignored her attempt to move the conversation off the lost items. "Well, could I get compensation for what I have lost?"

Mîriel considered his request. "We can discuss this if we discover your goods has been stolen or sold. I shall search the castle for things that may have belonged to you, and when I am done we can look over what I have found." And with that she took her leave, asking him to stay and rest.

She went first to the stables to find Gungnir's horses, but no one there seemed to recall any new ones being brought in over the past couple of weeks. Getting her sister and Bradlegar, they visited the treasure chamber. There they searched through the weapons and armour again. A suit or two of armour they found that may have been the Dwarf's. Then Mîriel picked up a large, solid axe with a black handle and a finely worked head. Runes traced into it spkoe of the destruction of Orcs and Goblins.

"This has to be his," she said.

"How do you know?" asked Bradlegar.

"I don't, really. But I feel it is, having been in his presence and having now picked this up. Somehow they seem to related."

Mîriel was correct; Gungnir was delighted to see the axe again, and he thanked her many times. "This is the heirloom of my family," he said, "for it dates back to the Second Age and has kept back Orcs for generations. It means more to me that you can imagine. You have chosen to return it to me and not keep it for yourself. My debt to you for this and my healing is considerable, and I shall repay it as best I can. When I am back to health, I shall make for your men armour such as they have not seen before."

"But take care you do not strain yourself for a few days," cautioned Mîriel. "For now, you should rest."

While Amalak, Bauglir, Araquenval, and Dennenor rode to the nearby town to announce the new ownership of the castle, Bradlegar returned to the safe in Aristus's chambers whose lock had defeated him the day before. Now, away from watchful and expectant eyes, he took his time working with it. In half an hour he had it open. Satisfied his skills had not deserted him, he returned to the Great Hall and ate another meal.

At Dennenor's request, a lady who lived in the castle and could sew stitched for them a new flag, and it was raised over the castle late that afternoon. Two colours it bore in a pair of triangles formed by a diagonal that ran up from left to right: the upper dark blue, the lower one brown. Seven yellow stars with seven points marched in a line across the the flag, one for each of the liberators of the castle. Dark it was, a flag of war, for the bonds between the people it represented were forged in struggle and battle. But though it was dark, the people of the castle received the new standard with joy, for they had grown to despise the one Imlach had flown.

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