MEE-S2E2: Eriador/Nightmares of Angmar (part 2)

MEE-S2E2: “Serve him or die”

Vogar (Bill) Dwarf Warrior

Zim (Tony) Hobbit Treasure Hunter

Ricfried (Brian) Woodsman Warden…absent

Lorig (Matt) Dwarven Scholar

Mud (Duane) Wood Elf Wanderer

Axel (Geoff) Rohanian Warrior

1 Oct, 2964: Vogar woke from his restless sleep, dug out his fine comb, and began running the teeth thru his almost non-existent hair. Once his morning ritual done, he stepped outside to complete another ritual as he untied his pants, when the morning chill shrunk his privates. “What am I doing up in the north? An alliance Radagast said. There was something else.”

His allies brushed past him as they too exited the hut, finding a large gathering of hillmen. More than just this village, probably 6-7 tribes arguing amongst themselves. “Cynbal, surely the goblins have taken the children across the river or high into the mountains. Do not ask US to disturb the river and mist spirits. Nor can we count on the Beornings or other northmen. Aye, let us help bury your dead women and say prayers for the lost children.” Another chief suggested, “Perhaps we should speak with Nagrhaw, the Chief of the Wargs of the Black Hills. Last heard, she is in northern Mirkwood. We bred our dogs with her kind; so, maybe she would intercede for us.” 

The mention of another of Vogar’s hated enemy jostled Vogar’s memory, “Carn Dûm! They’ve taken the children to the old witch-king’s realm.” Vogar fumed in dwarvish, “Ally yourselves with goblin, Orc, and Wargs. Serves you right as they serve up your children.” Lorig calmed his fellow dwarf before speaking to the group, “These are your children, your heritage, your future you contemplate casting aside so easily. WE rushed into the burning hut trying to rescue them while you cowered outside. And if necessary, WE will rescue your future. You see before you emissaries of those races around you willing to lend aid. You are not alone.” Axel (insight) realized the hillmen’s superstitions, “You speak of the Great River spirits sweeping your lives away if you chase after your children. But do nothing, and your life itself with be swept away with eternal grief.” Even Zim added his voice, “What makes you think the Warg won’t or haven’t turned on you?” 

And that’s when the female voice broke the council of men as an angered Essylt spat, “You call yourselves men, yet you cower like dogs. Do not think of me as just an orphaned maiden; I am Heddwyn’s daughter. Do not stand between me and my kin. Move aside or join me, for I will march into Angmar myself to reclaim my brothers and sisters suffering now in the cruel hands of the goblins!” Only now did one of the hillmen find strength to threaten, “Quiet. Submit yourself, woman, to the wishes of the council.” And that’s when Fráech (2^nd place finisher in the mud-pit fight) stepped forward and shoved the man aside. “Leave her alone. I will go with Essylt – as her protector.” Zim nudged Axel, “Your betrothed seems quite the woman.” 

With Essylt, Fráech, and the group standing as one, chief Cynbal conceded to their plan and closed the council meeting. He then turned to the rescuers, “It is autumn now and a long march stands before you. The cold freeze of winter is upon us and worse in the mountains. We can offer whatever you need (clothing, fur, food, prayers).” To his niece Essylt as added, “There is nothing left for you here. If you must, go and find the children and bring them home again. We will look for your coming over the hilltops, on a clear, cool morning in spring. And if the grasses and flowers are growing upon the memorial circles, it will be a sign that our dark days have passed.” 

Lorig turned to Essylt, “Potions and herbs would be beneficial. Is there a medicine man in this village? Or do you call them shaman or witches?” Essylt’s eyes lit up as she realized, “Yes, there is one such witch as you call her. An outcast because she dared cross the river defying council orders. She may brew such magic you speak of. But more importantly, she may know the way that lies before us. For I nor Fráech have not ventured beyond the rolling hills of the vale.” 

And so, they trekked west toward the rising mountains that offered rest to the setting sun. Onward till dusk when the crimson edge of the sun took one last peek over the mountain rim. Squinting thru the blinding rays, they fought to see the outline of a shack and the halo of someone approaching. Essylt rushed forward, paused, then hugged the person before turning to wave all forward to join her. “This is Hwalda.” A sun-baked weathered woman, 40ish but looking in her 50s, layered in furs and smoking a pipe, grinned her one-tooth smile then spoke, “I am blessed to see such a collection of men of old. Dwarf, elf, and what’s this…a child? Some call me a witch. I wander. Essylt tells me you wish to cross the river and journey to Angmar. And to death, for there is much evil and despair before you.” 

Hwalda led them past her “summer home” hut to the side of a hill and her trapdoor to her underground abode. A rope-ladder down to a torch-lit stone room shelter out of the wind and cold. “Come share in my wine as we discuss business. But don’t drink too much Mr. Dwarves. I remember your kind. You must navigate the rope to my outside privy for I do not welcome piss stench within my walls. Now, why should I partake in this rescue?” To Axel’s reminder of the children, the witch countered, “What’s to say the goblins haven’t already cooked and eaten them?” To Vogar’s comments of the glory of battle, she balked, “I’ve enough life just battling the weather. Nay, I seek warmth.” Thus, when Axel jingled coins in his purse, her eyes brightened, “Aye, coin warms the soul. Now you speak my language. Yes, I can steer you around Gundabad. For a price.” 

They settled in for the night, getting acquainted [Traditions]. Per Zim’s request of her stories, Hwalda told of the time 13 little men ventured into the woods across the Great River (Anduin) and faced Mirkwood spiders. Which perked Zim into telling the story of the greatest hobbit named Bilbo. Which reminded Axel who told their own story of encountering the troll Bosbo. Hwalda countered with her own recollections, “Yes, I’ve heard of trolls up in the Ettenmoors. Filthy and foul, worse than vultures. Yes, stories are interesting. May you live to tell more, but first tell me what you offer. An equal share of the treasure. An eighth. Or seventh should someone fall.” Vogar momentarily looked askance at her, considering maybe she threatened to lessen the numbers herself. 

That night, within the shelter of the underground abode, which SHOULD have been at home to a dwarf, Vogar tossed and turned, beset by another nightmare. Down, down he went. Stairs chipped and uneven from the wear of countless metal-booted warriors. The screams of children echoed thru the stairwells and halls. A chill and musky smell assaulted him more. Then silence. A low reverberation that turned into a long growl. Vogar flinched in all directions finding nothing. Till the spital dripped upon his shoulder. 

He looked up into the red eyes and razor-sharp teeth that snapped and snarled and lunged…evaporating into a mist and the eerie thrum of “Serve him or die.” 

2 Oct: Vogar quickly tossed the furs off as he sat up, interrupting Mud’s morning surmise (Rumours of the Earth), “We’ll have to sneak past Mount Gundabad as I’ve heard throngs of goblins are moving west as we speak.” Vogar added, “Like moth to a flame. Something draws them or drives them with threats such as ‘Serve him or die’.” Hwalda puzzled at the dwarf’s words before instructing, “Hope you slept well. That was your last night inside shelter. We have months ahead exposed to nature and beasts.” 

[Embarkation] Mud served as Guide beside the witch who led the party away from animal trails as they sought shadows to hide their movement. “Soon our pace will slow as we climb into the mountains. Even at a dedicated trudge, we’re probably 2 weeks (80 miles) away from our first destination, the Grey Waste plains.” Hwalda suggested the horsemen walk their animals, “Sit too high and you can be spotted.” 

Within a few days, they were already at the mountains with waterfalls feeding the fast-flowing river below. “Trust me, you do NOT want to swim the waters. So cold, you’d freeze to death like my ancestors before me. Old Forgall and the elders believe the old stories of the freeze a wraiths’ touch. Call it what you want, but call it instant death if you go in.” Pointing above them, she added, “That is why we use that ledge. To keep you high and dry.” 

High above, the narrow ledge looked ever so daunting. Except for the dwarves who felt at home. Hwalda warned all, “Check every step before you put weight on it. If your horses stumble, let them fall without dragging you to your death too. Consider it a sacrifice to the water spirits.” The witch was the first to cross with ease like a mountain goat. Mud led his horse next. Too focused on his horse he almost missed a step (Investigate 8 then Inspiration 18). Lorig and Vogar crossed with ease as their (Stonework) knowledge helped them find footing. It was Axel who slipped and fell, leaving the reins and Stedrick behind in the capable hands of Zim. The Rohan’s pride hurt more than anything from his 10ft fall. 

6 Oct: Another 3-4 days as they climbed into the shadows of Mount Gundabad. Suddenly a rain of arrows announced the Lookouts (Vogar and Axel) failed to spot the goblins high upon another ledge. But the dwarves soon smelt the Orc closing from the rear and front. Arrows flew back and forth till the Orc engaged in melee silencing the fellowship’s twang. Goblin arrows continued to rain down despite friendly fire (so to say). Dwarven hatred fueled the onslaught against the enemy despite being outnumbered. The warrior Axel also killed many an Orc. Mud easily switched between bow and blade as the battle ebbed and flowed. The hillman Fráech the first to fall before an Orc. Forcing Lorig to rush to his aid. You had to look under the horse to find Zim firing with cover. One after another goblin tumbled down the slopes. Till the last of the Orc fell. Then (craven), the goblins turned tail and ran. 

Lorig pulled out his medical kit to patch up his allies. Till a distant horn sounded, “Ta, da, da, ta, da.” Everyone realized a goblin alarm had been sounded. Enough of a wider path to mount their horses (Mud, Axel+Zim) with the dwarves running behind. Mile upon mile they hastened [passing CON saves], past the northern reach of the Misty Mountains, into the Grey Waste valley where they paused and camped and healed for a few days. The Hunters (Lorig and Mud) failed to find game to offset their dwindling rations. 

16 Oct: Once more they set out, ignoring Vogar’s grumblings as his comb caught in his frozen beard. Onward and upward along another hilly path, till the Lookouts signaled halt. Vogar’s blood ran with hatred and excitement as Axel pointed out to the others, “More goblin lookouts. Don’t see us. They seem to be focused on an opening.” As Scout, Zim offered he and the elf sneak up with bows to drive the pack into the waiting blades of the others. Up and around they crept till they found perch and their marks, “Twang, twang, twang.” 3 goblins fell causing the others to nervously look around. Till Mud rose, took aim, and fired. A rain of arrows announced at least he spotted. 

Arrows crossed the span between the two archer groups. Change of plans: Axel broke cover and charged. Too focused on the goblins to consider the cave opening he passed in front of. Suddenly a huge chela (claw) sprung from the cave opening and caught the Rohan’s leg. “Ow!” And that’s when the huge crab (Lurker) partially emerged from the cave. Goblins paused in their archery duel to finally see their original prey. Two fell before they realized they were still targeted. And the rest of the travelers charged to Axel’s aid. Zim paused in his archery looking for large boulders to dislodge over the cave entrance in hopes of crushing the beast. Solid rock; so, he re-engaged the goblins. 

It was now a fight for their lives with the goblins but a nuisance. Lorig rushed to Axel’s aid when another claw strike dropped the horseman. Vogar stood over the healer as he used his shield to give cover, “Drag him to safety.” Up close, the members saw how huge the threat was: a monstrosity with a cluster of pincers standing on blade-like legs. Intelligent enough to only expose its crustaceous front while keeping its soft abdomen inside the cave. Its small head was crowned with small, pale eyes shining like opals. And all the while, an incessant sickly piping issued from its slit-like mouth. 

Healed, Axel fired arrows at the beast. Some bounced off its thick shell, but others slid between the hinges scoring wounds. Vogar tried to protect his allies as he battled the Lurker. But there were too many pincers… Fráech died as he was almost cleaved in half. Finally, the last of the goblins fell such that Zim and Mud targeted the crab from above. The chance of running from the beast long gone. They had to vanquish it if they hoped to continue on their pass. Yet, that was when the healer rushed into battle. And was crippled by pincers. “Stay back to heal our wounded. It’s our only hope.” Relentless, they carried the battle as the Lurker finally crawled back into the cave. 

Zim slide down the slope, “Don’t just stand there, it’s getting away.” But the others knew its departure was a blessing. Zim persisted, “Think of the sweet taste of crab-meat. Think of how many travelers it has attacked. Treasure awaits us.” Hwalda perked up. And the dwarfs sniffed the air confirming gold inside. Warily they entered and were immediately assaulted by the stench. A trail of black, thick blood marked the Lurkers’ retreat almost 30ft deeper till they stood at the edge of a deep, vertical shaft. 

And there scattered about the rim of the pit lay abandoned treasure. Half buried bones, debris, brittle weapons, smashed shields, and rotting clothing marked the sad story of unfortunate travelers. But intermixed amongst the trash they found gold coins and jewelry and an elven longbow of old (magical). Most saw the Hobbit holding a pale-green beryl stone up to his eye before it fell into his pocket. But what really caught Mud and Lorig’s eyes was the Sindarin runes carved upon the back wall: 

Mud reported the significance, “Glorfindel is a heroic elf-lord who fought at the Battle of Fornost nearly a thousand years ago. I can only guess he left that treasure in order to carry the body to the family. Maybe you hobbit Zim could return his elfstone so that we might gain favor and entrance into Rivendell someday.” Hwalda interrupted, “As long as I’m compensated in gold for its value as part of the promised treasure. But let us not tarry at this place. We’ve another 200 miles before us. And probably a host of goblins lying in wait. Are you sure you want to continue on this journey?” Axel answered, “We continue but first we must honor the hillman Fráech with a proper burial. Essylt, is a stone cairn appropriate?”