MEE-S3E2: Eriador/Harder than Stone (part 2)

Vogar (Bill) Dwarf Warrior… Shadow Weakness (Resentful)

Zim (Tony) Hobbit Treasure Hunter…late

Ricfried (Brian) Woodsman Warden…absent

Lorig (Matt) Dwarf Scholar

Mud (Duane) Wood Elf Wanderer

Axel (Geoff) Rohanian Warrior

16 May: Once again, the group departed Rivendell, loaded with elven supplies on the pack-horse trailing the others. Lorig (Scout) sat behind Mud (Guide) who took the lead, followed by Axel (Hunter) and Zim (cook). Leaving poor Ricfried to deal with the resentful Vogar (Lookout), “Can’t you keep up? Quit bobbing and weaving; I can’t see around you. Why go back to the Last Bridge? I thought Mud knew the lands and would cut across the Trollshaws to intercept the tracks. Their Troll-tracks for Dain’s sake!”

Embarkation (7-PR): Anticipation was high as they backtracked to the Last Bridge where the dwarf wagon was attacked. 3 days along the East Road to the bridge before they turned north to follow the troll-tracks they’d found last week. The Trollshaws in the summer offered blooming flowers and songbirds which was invigorating for most. Ricfried’s broad shoulders blocked most of Vogar’s view (failed his WIScheck). Leaves on the ground covered some of the tracks, but these were clumsy trolls. LARGE tracks.

20 May: Lorig (Scout) selected the night’s campsite, “Zim, you can re-live one of Bilbo’s adventures. Here are the 3 trolls turned to stone by his trickery. We can camp among them.” Vogar impatiently jumped down off the horse, “You mean Thorin stopped here too?! This could be where he lost his sword ‘Deathless’. Don’t just sit there on your horses; help me look!” Most had given up the search and began to listen to Zim recounting Bilbo’s encounter, “3 trolls they were. William, Tom and Bert. Trapped them dwarves they did. About to eat them, …”

[Investigate-natural 20] Suddenly, Vogar’ shouted, “A cave! I found their cave!” A simple troll keyhole to gain entry. Torchlight to search among the ancient trash. Sure enough, tossed among rotting clothing, Vogar found ‘Deathless’. “When the trolls captured Thorin, they must have thrown his sword among their treasure. Why didn’t he search for it after he was freed?” Zim added what he knew of the story, “According to Bilbo, when they searched this cave, Thorin found an elven sword. Gandalf called it ‘Orcrist-the Goblin Cleaver’ and convinced Thorin to wield it. Why he left ‘Deathless’ behind…” Vogar wasn’t listening, “I can now place it in the hands of my king Dain II.”

21-23 May: They continued north across the Trollshaws along the eastern side of the Hoarwell River. Following the tracks of 8-9 trolls across soft ground. An easy ‘road’ to follow which led to complacency. Vogar (Lookout) was in high spirits. Such that when they stopped for a meal, “STOP! Don’t step there. See the rope-noose covered in leaves? Trip it and you’d be yanked up then bashed by that swinging log.” Lorig frowned, “Trolls don’t lay traps like this. Someone put them up to it.”

24 May (The 8^th day out of Rivendell): The land transitioned from grassy plains to rocky foothills abundant with deep crevices and gorges. Mud pointed out, “More suited for mountain goats. Tracking will be tougher.” And that’s when the guide stepped off his horse to inspect tracks [Wanderer’s Rumor of the Earth], “They camped here. And split up. The main group is heading northeast. And there’s another set of queer tracks. I was going to say 4-legged wolf but then they change into 2-legged.” Lorig reasoned, “Could it be werewolf? Or Otbert the Beorning as a bear?” Mud responded, “No paws. Damnedest thing. But looks like something or someone else is interested in our prey.”

As they pressed onwards, Lorig pointed out the occasional tower ruins seen atop ridges. “Those are old watch-towers from the age of Arnor. Built by the Númenóreans eons ago. The fact that any of the towers remain is a testament to their stonework skills. Just like the Last Bridge that started this adventure.” Vogar was resentful of the healer’s Lore knowledge, “This ain’t no sight-seeing trip. Focus on the task. We hunt trolls.” 

They continued for more days thru the rugged mountains. Vogar was pissed, “Damn it, elf. This is the 3^rd time we’ve had to backtrack from a gorge. I thought you knew these lands.” Mud didn’t bother trying to explain the difficulty of tracking across hard rock. Instead, he calmly replied, “I know it well enough to understand these crags and gorges can be hidden in shadows and tall brush. For example, see that patch of wildflowers? See how the wind has swept them outward? Step closer and you’ll find the ledge of a cliff underneath their beauty. Unfortunately, that frayed rope proves the trolls climbed down into the gorge and up the other side. We have to backtrack because of our horses. Don’t worry dwarf, we may lose a few days, but are slowly catching up.”

As the ‘discussion’ continued, Axel happened to catch sight of a dark cloud drifting toward them, “Strange how the wind is at our backs yet that cloud approaches. Shit, blackbirds! Hundreds of them. Quick, hide!” They dismounted and sought tree canopies and brush. Enough warning to hide, except [Stealth-failure] glare off of Lorig’s helm ratted them out…”SQUAWK, squawk!” Some swooped down for a closer look before the cloud turned and flew back north. There was no turning back; so, Lorig tried to make the best of it with a weak joke, “I guess they caught scent of you Vogar.”

29 May: They found their way to the other side of the gorge. Mud was on foot to pick up their trail. “They’re not trying to hide their tracks. Look at the crumbled brush and kicked stones. And there’s the 4-legged tracks in loose dirt. This is definitely our prey.” The tracks led northeast with the Hoarwell River at their left. The occasional roar of its rushing waters a reminder it ever so near as they crossed streams that fed it.

By late afternoon, they descended well-worn steps carved into a gorge framing the Hoarwell River. The presence of another watch-tower ruin across the river was not unexpected. The sudden glint of metal atop its rampart was! Hand signals to dismount. Ricfried offered to stay behind with the horses as the others crossed the river. “Switchback trail climbs up to the old ruins. We’d easily be spotted. But look to the right. See that ridgeline saddle? Just to the right. Can you make out the cave?” Mud and Zim scouted ahead, hiding from the tower to their left higher up.

Soon they reported back, “It will be a tough climb up to the cave mouth. A lot of troll tracks. And the 4-legged creature. Except its tracks were exiting the cave!” Mud turned to see Vogar slapping mud on his armor. The dwarf replied, “Cuts down on any reflection to avoid sighting by lookouts…or crows. Now tie climbing knots in your damn elf rope. I’ll climb up and lower the rope to assist you. As for your 4-legged tracks, the fact it exited the cave means it is in league with them. It was their rear guard on their journey.”

Leaving his backpack behind, Vogar climbed (27) like a mountain-goat. Mud tied Vogar’s backpack which was raised up. Then Mud climbed with aid of the rope. Followed by Zim then Lorig. It was the horseman Axel who lost his footing and slipped. Vogar cringed at the clatter of stones announcing his short fall. He held his breath in worry about canyon echoes. When he gasped for air, he realized his mistake as he stood before the cave. He gagged at the foul stench wafting from the cave. “It obviously has been carved wider to allow trolls.” As Zim slipped past to enter the cave first, he patted Vogar’s back, “Think of it as cover to hide your own odor.”

20 yards into the cave, Zim paused at the sound of low guttural voices. Bickering. “Bron, I bored and hunger. Want nother goblin to eat.” “Quiet Pell. Boss say only eat those who disobey. Dark soon. Can hunt outside.” Zim inched out of the cave, “Stone trolls to the left. I think we can slip past.” Zim led the way, slipping across the side opening (where the trolls lulled) to await the others. The dwarves last with their clunky armor [stealth disadvantage]. Yep, Vogar scrapped against the wall. “What that? You hear? Maybe Mormog send more recruits.”

Axel signaled the others to hide. His plan: to show himself as a recruit. Except, the sight of trolls sent Vogar into a rage, “Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!” Axel cursed “Damn it Vogar.” The dwarf charged and threw an axe. Zim and Mud stayed in hiding to shoot while Axel and Lorig engaged. And that’s when Zim heard another troll approach from the south. No warning, as the hobbit hunkered further into hiding. Vogar out in the open and thus assaulted by the new arrival…a hill troll. Larger, more cunning, and brutal. Vogar dealt as much as he took. But each maul-swing from the hill troll was half his health. The dwarf raged on, knowing this was HIS kill since he fought alone.

Lorig quickly realized his medical skills were needed more than his weapon. He stepped to heal Vogar as arrows and Axel’s blade slowly crippled the stone trolls. Zim’s carefully aimed arrow fell one troll while Mud (natural 20) dropped the other with an arrow thru its eye into its small brain. His 2^nd arrow dropped the hill troll just as Vogar was mid-swing with his war-hammer. “Damn it elf, that was my kill! I saw you slip away from its approach. Just so you could wait to deal the fatal wound.” Lorig ignored the bickering from his fellow dwarf, “Sit still you fool and let me sew up your wounds. Quit worrying about the elf and tell me why hated enemies like the hill and stone trolls would join forces. That should be your concern.”

As Zim moved further into the cave that bent southeast, Axel moved past the dwarf being patched up, “So much for talking to them and learning what’s going on. Guess we’ll have to find out for ourselves.” Zim was surprised to find a stone crafted room off to the right. “Looks like the Númenóreans added to their defenses, using this cave system.” Zim went silent as he spied clay jugs stacked in the room. Which encouraged the others to enter to see why the silence. They gazed upon the muraled walls with fresco depicting the ancient Arnor splendor.

 “That must be the White-Tree of Minas Ithil planted by Isildur in the 2^nd age, sister-city to Minas Tirith of Gondor.” Clinking drew their attention to Zim, raking his fingers thru gems and coins within the jugs. “What? I’m just trying to gage how much we can carry. I’d say load up with the gems. We can return for the coins later.”

Down a Númenórean carved ramp (#3) now covered in goblin graffiti. A few broken shackles littered the floor. “Human or goblin prisoners?” As they spilled out of the ramp, Zim paused to search a side cavern that seemed to be a storage pit (#5). “Digging tools. Lots of them.” In fact, the sound of metal on stone echoed from the south from a stone-lined passage (#6). Zim cautioned, “Let me explore the east caves (#4) just to be sure we don’t get ambushed.” Premonition because he DID stumble upon a large cavern filled with goblins. Over 50 watched their Orc leader whipping one of their own. “Do as I say or become troll food. Follow my orders handed down by the captain.”

Zim returned with the news, “I wouldn’t go too far in. No telling when those goblins’ work shift begins.”  As Zim led the way, Lorig paused at the passage entrance to study the stone buttresses. “Plink, plink.” Vogar looked up to realize water seeped thru the stones overhead. “These caves and tunnels are deep enough to be under the river. Are they trying to connect Goblin Town with a subterranean road to hid troop movement to spill out unto the West?”

Zim stopped at a large stone door laying prone on the floor. He puzzled at the brass seals that lined the doorway. The pitch-black interior, ominous. He called Lorig forward, “What do you make of these seals?” As the dwarf saw heavy chains hanging free on the far wall, he could only reason, “Obviously the Númenóreans held a prisoner here.” Before entering the room, he spied 4-legged tracks in the dust. “I’m guessing our 4-legged creature was held here.”

As they examined the dungeon, they did not realize Zim’s absence. Long minutes before he appeared, “I scouted ahead. Best I can guess is the digging is at least another 2 miles. Can’t tell how long they’ve been working on this tunnel.” Which got Lorig to speak up, “50 goblins behind us. No telling how many ahead of us. Nor whether there are more trolls around. I say we collapse the tunnel. I was studying the buttresses. I could collapse the tunnel while Vogar stands by to collapse the ramp. Trap everything inside. At least delay their efforts.”

The idea hurried Zim up the ramp on his short legs, “I’ll be at the cave mouth waiting for you.” The dwarves collaborated on where best to strike the buttresses. Then the count “One, two, …BOOM!” Smoke and dust billowed from the passage, prodding Lorig and Axel up the ramp as Vogar and Mud dealt blows to those buttresses. But this was a wider passage. Their labor slower. Such that goblin hoots and howls sounded closer. Goblin faces just began to emerge from the dust-cloud of the tunnel, before…”BOOM!” Mud was already at the cave mouth. Vogar soon followed, covered in dust. Zim pointed out, “Nice disguise.”

Disguise indeed as arrows ricocheted off of rock. “Archers on the tower ramparts!” The rumble of the earth and the cloud of smoke out of the cave signaled the alarm. The tower at least 100 yards away and uphill. The dwarves could only watch their archers in action. Axel, Mud, and Zim went thru half their quivers before the ramparts became silent. For the time being. “I think we’ve learned enough about Mormog’s plans. We can report back to Lord Elrond. Retreat now before the tower garrison lines the ramparts.” But Vogar had his own plans, “Men in league with goblins. Could it be Axel’s betrothed and her hillmen have returned to their old alliances?”

Vogar stepped into the open and began to climb toward the tower. Yet no arrows sounded. When he safely reached the tower base, the others advanced. With the door barred, Zim climbed up on Axel’s shoulders to reach a window, crawled thru, and opened the door. Barracks and bedding for 4 bandits. A side room had fresh venison already carved. Zim was already at work, “I’ll have 3^rd meal ready soon.”

Lorig studied the beautiful mosaic floor. The stone tiles still perfectly set, leaving the surface flawlessly smooth. It was a map of old Arnor, before the division into three kingdoms. [After eight hundred years of peace, High King Eärendur died in TA 861 and his three squabbling sons divided the realm into the three kingdoms of Arthedain, Cardolan, and Rhudaur.] To the west lay the city of Annúminas, Anor’s ancient capital.  The north-eastern portion was cracked by the roots of a sickly plant. As if invading the lands, like the Witch-King of Angmar. How prophetic.

The next floor housed a larger bed that evidently was recently used. “Probably Mormog, long gone. Without troll tracks, he’ll be harder to follow.” Vogar had already climbed to the ramparts to study the dead. “Not your mountain-men in the Vale of Gundabad. Simple bandits.” The smell of cooked venison led the dwarf below. Axel offered, “Might as well camp here. Safe, secure. Might even ambush Mormog if he returns.”

As they ate, the noticed the cook absent. Zim soon returned, “I had hoped to find the caves flooded. I couldn’t get far enough in. You did a better job collapsing it than I expected.” With venison juices soaked into his beard, Vogar loudly belched then announced, “I’ll take first watch.” Zim sent him on his way, “Yeah, and take your farts with you. And here I thought the troll cave stunk.”

It was Axel and Mud on last watch, awaken just before dawn. Where there should have been the rays of dawn, instead a sudden darkness. Mud reached for his bow but then relaxed at the sweet voice, “Greetings. Perhaps wake your friends so we can talk.” Mud hustled to the 1^st floor barracks, but struggled to wake Zim, “Not now. Can’t you smell the mulberry cake in the oven.” A boot to his back got the Hobbit awake and up the steps.

Before them, appeared the apparition of a young woman clad in glittering raiment, her hair lying on her shoulders as pale in the dawn as polished silver. Mud immediately realized she did not belong to the race of Men, nor to that of the Firstborn. Zim, on the other hand, focused on the heavy iron collar around her neck. Fiery runes glittered along its surface.

She spoke, “I have been called with many names since I entered Arda, many long years ago. But to you I am called Feredrûn, the ‘Hunter of the East’. I think you may be the ones I’ve been searching for. I am an unwilling servant of the Shadow, imprisoned in this shackled body of flesh and bone. Once I roamed free in the void between songs, unclad and formless. The Dark Lord Sauron tricked me with honeyed words. The Deceiver! When I came into the world and kneeled before him, he placed this collar around my physical neck, binding me to his will and that of his servants. Unable to oppose his will, I have labored long on his quests to search for Elven rings.”

She continued in her long history, “A Númenórean lieutenant captured and imprisoned me in that vault you found. Eons of prison yet freed of the Dark Lord’s desires. Until another minion of the Dark Lord found and released me a few years ago. Free of the chains yet still spell-bound to a servitor of my Master, the Captain Mormog you seek. Do you wish to find him, and, perhaps, thwart his plans? You cannot tarry, for some of them, at least, are reaching fruition. I can help you. I cannot openly betray Mormog, but I can choose not to oppose you. Only if you promise to set me free to once again sing and dance upon the green grass of Valinor.”

“ZAP!” Zim was knocked to the floor. Smoke rose from his fingertips. Feredrûn leaned over his prone form, “Silly creature. If removing the collar COULD be so simple.” Mud suggested, “Could Gandalf possibly remove it?” She was about to discount the idea until Lorig added, “He is an Istari.” She was pleased by their desires to help. “Mormog has headed north to a deep forest ravine. He plans to give a speech to the gathered troll kindreds. I can hide your approach and point out his lookouts. But you must hurry. You’ve a hard 5 days ahead if you plan to arrive fresh to thwart his plans.”

Zim interrupted, “We’ll travel better with full stomachs. Sit while I cook. And then we can smoke pipes to bless our departure.” Feredrûn smiled at the silliness of the little creature who did not realize she was an apparition that did not need food or sustenance. And her smile turned to song when she heard Lorig play his lute. When finished, she instructed, “Do not tarry long. I can shadow you.” And with that, she transformed into a quadruped creature and melted into the shadows.