MEE-S1E2: Breeland/Old Bones and Skin (conclusion)

MEE-S1E2: Risk and Reward in the Marshes

Otbert (Bill) Beorning Wanderer

Zim (Tony) Hobbit Treasure Hunter

Ricfried (Brian) Woodsman Warden

Lorig (Matt) Dwarven Scholar

Mud (Duane) Wood Elf Wanderer

Axel (Geoff) Rohanian Warrior

May 8, 2951, 7pm: Mud couldn’t wait to get as far from Bosbo as possible, else the troll changed his mind. They all gathered around the camp studying the map. “Treasure is mentioned on the south edge of the map so surely it is within these South Downs.” But where? There is no ‘X’ marks the spot. “Maybe it’s a dwarven riddle, use the capital letters.” Try dousing it with water. “Hold it up to the moonlite.” As the sun began to set, they gathered closer to the campfire. Where smoke began to adhere to the parchment. “Letters! Dwarf, what does it read?” As the dwarven runes appeared on the Midgewater Marshes area, Lorig read, “Here’s lies the Black Barrow. Near the King’s chair.”

Hagweed

Over the next few days, they trekked north towards the Great Road and the Forsaken Inn. Mud said he knew the area well, but his Guiding was lacking. Scarce game meant meager meals and waning supplies. At least the Scouts found an abandoned campsite with wood already gathered. And Lorig found hagweed in a pond, “Brewed, it helps lift your spirits.” [aid against Corruption]

Once they reached the Great Road and turned east, they soon came upon Breeland travelers laboring over a broken cart. “On our way back from trading at the Red-Horn gate up in the mountain pass. Hit a rut and broke the spokes. And the damn ox ran off.” While Ricfried and Lorig repaired the cart, Axel and Otbert tracked down the ox. Leaving Zim to entertain the kids who took delight in teasing Mud about his “rabbit ears.” It was a hearty meal around the campfire that night.

May 9: An early morning as the travelers departed under threatening storms. The fellowship reached the Forsaken Inn, shook off the road dust, and stepped in. Everyone turned to gaze at the arrivals, obviously disappointed at the sight, and turned back to their prior conversations. Rangers and Dunedain sat in their traveling garb, and a table of dwarves wetted their lips. The proprietor just as uncaring as he went back to wiping the bar-top without even offering greetings or drinks. Mud stepped forward, “Drinks for everyone.” The table of dwarves perked up till Mud corrected, “For my companions. Any rooms available?” Haggling. Only 2 rooms. Otbert willing to sleep in the stable. Finally, enough rooms bartered for all to rest.

And that’s when a ranger approached, “Well met strangers. I am Terry Mac. I see you’ve come from the south. No, I didn’t track you. It’s the red dust falling from your pants. South Downs clay.” Mud answered, “Indeed. Ran into goblins and a troll. At least the goblins are eternally resting. The ranger perked up, “So, you met old Bosbo and lived. What brings you here?” Lorig replied, “Necessity.” Cryptic. The ranger offered, “Perhaps next spring you could assist me on a troll hunt. Let us smoke and drink to our bond.” Terry paid little attention to Zim who mimicked his every move and pipe puff till he suggested, “So, a smoking competition?” Otbert pulled out his flute to add to the merriment. Smoke rings rose in all shapes and sizes till it was determined Ricfried outperformed them all.

May 10: They continued east along the Great Road till abeam the marshes where they angled in looking for patches of dry land between the bogs. Axel on foot leading his horse. Slow going as the swamp mud tried to suck their boots off their feet. Fog rolled in that proved to be a blanket of mosquitoes and gnats. Even Axel’s horse couldn’t swat them fast enough. Till exhaustion called their halt, “Let’s get off the ground and away from the critters. There’s a nice sturdy tree to nest in.” Mud on 1^st watch noticed a lone campfire in the distance. Who else would be out here in the marshes?

May 11: Swamp gases popped and bubbled from the bogs. Even handkerchiefs over their noses couldn’t stop the stench. Soon they found dry land with ancient stone poking up from the ground. An old village or something grander? The marsh had claimed too much to tell. “Does that look like a chair to you per the map clue? And it looks like the king is seated holding court.” Mud rushed forward to investigate only to learn the ‘king’ was a nest of huge hornets which flew up in mass. “Ouch!” Mud covered himself with his cloak as best he could as he swatted at them with a torch. They soon departed.

Lorig stepped forward to inspect the stonework, “Not dwarven. Old as if the time of the kingdom of Arthedain.” Zim wandered about, “The map said the treasure should be nearby.” As Lorig took rest sitting in the chair, he advised, “Remember, you are looking for a barrow mound. Much like your Barrow Downs.” And that’s when Lorig started to have visions as he sat in the chair. An immediate intuition. Vision of his father killed in battle, feelings of sorrow and loss. Then vision of a mound in the distance. Lorig quickly sat up, “My father is still alive. But what we seek is over there.”

Rising out of the bog, a low mound. The stone face already pivoted inward. “It’s already been violated. Timeas. Tomb-robber.” Zim recommended, “Perhaps we should enter to verify the deceased has been re-buried properly.” Otbert sensed a Shadow presence as the others lit torches. Otbert remained outside on guard as the others entered despite his warning. Ten steps in then a deep dropoff. Axel dropped his torch down into the darkness causing a swarm of bugs to flush up and out. Ricfried teasingly offered Zim for the descent but the Hobbit was already tying the rope around his waist, “Hurry, the poor man is probably cold and freezing outside his coffin.”

A large upper chamber unfolded before him, damp with time and nearness to the marshes. He stepped around the 2 bundles of bags obviously dropped by the prior invaders as his vision was drawn to a trapdoor further in. A stone ramp slimy with moss lined at interval heights, as if a tide was ebbing in and out. The mirky water too deep for a Hobbit. “I can see some crypts and what looks like a chest stacked atop one.”

The others now descended. Lorig stopped at the bundles to note one a backpack stuffed with dwarf tools and dwarf clothing. The other a bag of tools: crowbar, torches, rope, climbing spikes, and a map with directions to the barrow of Gorlanc and a mysterious reference to 'a seal of a blackbird'. Mud pondered, “Who left the backpack?” Ricfried considered, “The lone dwarf back at the Prancing Pony? Maybe he and Timeas had a falling out for the split of their treasure? But then why would the dwarf leave his stuff here?”

Gror

brigands

And that’s when they heard Otbert from outside, “We’ve got company. Robbers!” They had managed to sneak up on him. The Bree dwarf they’d met who called himself Gror along with a half-dozen brigands. And the young lad who squealed, “I told you they were trying to steal my uncle’s treasure. My treasure.” Gror spoke up, “No need for bloodshed. Bring up my gold and we’ll let you leave.” Tomas surprised, “You mean my gold of which I promised to give you a small cut.” Gror didn’t even put effort into the swing that kneecapped Tomas causing him to collapse in pain. Crying. Gror continued, “Like I said, my treasure. And if you cooperate, I’ll give you a finder cut.”

Enough delay as Ricfried quickly climbed up and out of the barrow, leveled his bow, and shot Gror. The dwarf paused to break off the arrow-shaft, “I see you want the hard way. They’re all yours boys. They’ve decided to give their cut to you.” Mud flew pass Axel struggling up the rope, as the elf kicked from side2side of the shaft to then exit and notch an arrow. “Twang.” The brigands charged into melee, 2 each on Otbert, Mud, and Ricfried. Blood spilled. Zim raced up the rope, up Axel’s back, stepping on his face to spring out of the shaft and sink an arrow into a Brigand’s knee (knocked prone in pain). Lorig too exited and faced off with his axe, while Otbert swung at one of his assailants.

Back and forth, the brigands proved to be sturdy fighters dancing around the fellowship’s attacks. Zim targeted more knees as things began to look bleak. Until the brigands finally started to fall. And that’s when the concussive explosion rang their ears. A ‘flash-bang’ thrown by Gror who decided to cut his losses. Axel ran to his horse to give chase with the Hobbit trying to keep up with his short legs. The dwarf elusive in his familiar surroundings, till he reasoned the Rohan separated. He stopped to face his pursuer, partially blocking the horses raised hooves. A mighty dwarven Warhammer swing (natural 20) cleared Axel off his horse as he crashed unconscious to the ground.

[Zim had ridden with Axel for months and thus familiar with the horseman’s signals.] Zim gave 3-quick whistles to command the horse to defend its master. Then watched Gror turn and run off once more. Zim ran forward, sprang off a tree stump and landed squarely in the horse saddle to then spur the horse into action. Except, he’d forgot he’d given the protect command. The horse stood its ground causing Zim to fly off the horse. The dwarf long gone. Zim stood to treat Axel’s wounds. Axel coughed awake (2^nd wind).

Zim rode behind Axel as they returned to the barrow mound where they found two brigands trust up while Lorig treated poor Tomas. And the others questioned their prisoners. “Gror paid good money for us to help him recover his rightful coin. It was his twin brother in league with Timeas. Bandits they were, robbing graves all over Eriador. Till they finally betrayed each other here in this tomb. That is his brother Rorg’s backpack you have at your feet. Only Timeas climbed out and was found by rangers who healed him and brought him back to Bree. That was last year. Gror laughed as he told when he faced Timeas, the old codger died of fright thinking it Rorg returned from the grave. The dwarf has been tracking you the whole way. Said he watched you dealing with that troll. Picked us up in Bree as you slept at the Forsaken Inn.”

After tying up the prisoners while Lorig patched up Otbert and Axel, they retrieved the waterlogged chest by rope and muscle. During the process, Mud had to blink twice (Corruption-pass) as he swore he saw ghostly hands reaching up from the coffin beneath the chest. Zim rubbed his hands together as he inspected the chest lock, “Doesn’t look trapped, just rusted.” Soon the chest offered up its contents: a dwarven Warhammer labeled ‘Gothrung’ by its etched runes, a jeweled sword hilt (less blade), pearls, a bejeweled crown, and a nice collection of coins to include a dozen gold.

Zim was wide-eyed appraising the lot, “Maybe a thousand silver if we find the right buyer, say in Gondor. Or settle for trade at a lesser value.” Otbert reminded them, “Don’t forget your deal with Bosbo.” To which Zim suggested, “Convert it to silver or even copper to make his share look larger than say just the sword hilt and pearls.” Ricfried added, “What about young Tomas? His story did start us on this path?”

And so it was, when they returned to Bree with the treasure, Terence Heatherton, Tomas’ father, wanted none of the treasure, “Ill gotten gain as I said. Tomas must learn to work for a living. He can only change opinions if he shows his own worth.” Thus, per bartering and dealing with Bree merchants, the group was able to sell off the bigger items. The crown ending up in the town museum, a wealthy landowner claiming the hilt to be worked into a fine blade hung over his hearth.

Near 3 weeks since leaving the cave mouth when they returned to face Bosbo with his promised share. The troll sniffed the air, “Smells like you are telling the truth. You haven’t pissed yourself yet. Now be on your way before my stomach holds counsel about your tasty flesh.” As they walked away, the fellowship said their farewells, “Till next spring when we meet again with that Terry Mac and his troll-hunting offer.”