MEE-S4E1: Eriador/Concerning Archers (part 1)

Late 2964 thru late March, 2965: Almost a year had passed since the fellowship last convened. Most had gone their separate ways for their own respite from the growing Shadow that had weakened their souls. But they had all agreed to re-unite in Rivendell to check upon the tunnel threat.

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

Zim (Tony) Hobbit Treasure Hunter

Ricfried (Brian) Woodsman Warden…absent

Lorig (Matt) Dwarf Scholar

Mud (Duane) Wood Elf Wanderer

Axel (Geoff) Rohanian Warrior

March 21, 2965: Astronomers and scholars mark the Vernal equinox as when days and nights are of equal length. Farmers recognize it as the start of spring growing season.

The Hidden Valley of Rivendell was a place of timeless peace. So it was quite surprising for the fellowship to hear raised voices coming from the Hall-of-Fire. “Though Elves may be wise, they do not know all that has happened in Middle-earth,” protested the Hobbit Bilbo Baggins planted atop a stool near the crackling hearth fireplace. “I tell you; they were there! The Old Took told stories of the archers company to me when I was a lad!” Lindir, with a wry smile upon his face, calmly replied, “That does not make it so, Master Hobbit. Gerontius Took was known to tell all manner of wild stories.”

Bilbo jumped off his perch and was about to point his wagging finger at Lindir, when he realized he had another audience. Recognizing Zim, his mood changed, “Come in, come in! Help settle a disagreement between my dear friend Lindir and I. I am willing to wager others have heard of the Hobbit archers who came to the aid of King Arvedui at Fornost in ages past.” Zim eagerly supported his fellow Hobbit, “My mother’s mother’s mother’s … handed down such stories of the year 1974 of the 3^rd Age when the Green Company archers marched out of the Shire.”

Yet Lindir’s composure didn’t change as he ribbed, “Ah, fairy tales. But where is the proof? No records exist to confirm this.” Lorig joined in conversation, “There is more than just Elven records. Your kind do tend to think lesser of other races and thus could overlook something important to the rest of us. Just like the history of the dwarves do not glorify your records.  I’m sure the Hobbits have recorded such honorable achievements.” Thus, Lindir challenged, “It would be a simple task to ride into Fornost and find evidence.” Bilbo spoke for the others, “They accept your challenge!”

Bilbo reached into his pockets and dug out 10 silver for each member. Then pulled out a pouch of Longbottom weed and a pipe which he gave to Zim, “My 3^rd favorite pipe. May it bring you comfort and reward. Now, how soon can you be on your way?” Lindir interjected, “No need to rush. Have you not heard of the great Spring feast tomorrow?”

They had 24 hours to kill:

• Zim scurried out the door, “Now where would elves setup pre-feast snacks?” And just happened to run into Glorfindel, “JUST the elf I wanted to find. You were at Deadman’s Dike when it fell to Angmar’s army. You know, Fornost Erain as you elves call it. Come settle a bet and tell Lindir how you saw the Green Company archers joined in the fight.” But the elf skillfully avoided the topic, “And spoil your bet? As for pre-feast snacks, you’ll just have to wait.”

• Mud followed Glorfindel as he left the Hobbit. He waited till they were alone, before he spoke in Sindarin to also ask about Fornost Erain. Glorfindel paused, and with a look of pain answered, “While I have lived many years, seen many things, and participated in much, some memories should remain buried. That particular war was long and terrible. Journey if you must to settle a bet. But while there, might you do a favor for me? The shadows of Angmar lingered long in that region and dark things may still dwell upon that land. News of Mormog’s tunnels concern me. A shadow lies on my heart from a dark vision as I fear the Witch-King’s power is growing once more and may be within those ruins so near Bree and the center of Eriador itself. Scout the area and prove my fears unjustified.”

• Vogar used his time to visit the elven blacksmiths and asked use of their anvil, “I need to put finishing touches on my tall-shield.” While he sweated standing before the white-hot flames, he noticed the empty stand. “Last time I was here, seems there was a broken sword lying upon that bench. I wonder what they did with it?”

[Andúril, also called the Flame of the West, was the sword which was reforged from the shards of Narsil.]

• Lorig entered the kitchen, “I hear there will be a great feast tomorrow. I am here to gorge myself to stretch my stomach in preparation. I’ve a long journey before me and need a full belly for travel.”

March 22^nd: Colorful banners danced in the gentle breeze as well-dressed elves approached the grand hall decorated for the Spring Feast. Trumpets sounded all to come join in the activities. Lorig paused as he was locked in battle, trying to decide whether to cover his ears or hold his aching stomach, “I think I mighta eaten too much.” Zim skipped along nearby, “Too much?! No such thing. You need to accept the Hobbit way… six meals-a-day. But save room for a 7^th.”

Everyone gathered in the grand banquet room as Lord Elrond tapped his crystal glass before toasting, “To another spring in Middle Earth before we someday depart for Valinor. May the year be fruitful and pleasant.” He then took his seat, the middle of 3 thrones at the head of the room. Glorfindel sat to his right, as the left chair remained empty. Lindir happened to notice the fellowship’s stare and answered their unasked question, “Lady Arwen is still in Lothlorien. If you’ll remember Vogar, you were chosen to escort her there.” But the dwarf suffered a bout of his Short-Term-Memory loss, “Lothlorien? I remember she took me to Lake Mirrormere to honor King Dain II. Fine lass. Shrink in height, add some meat on her bones, grow some face hair, and she’d make a fine dwarven maiden.” He was serious and became resentful of their laughter.

Mud happened to look around the room and saw a young human out of place. Also staring at the empty chair. Lindir answered that question too, “He is a ranger known as Strider. He was fostered here in Imladris by Lord Elrond himself. He and Arwen grew up together.” Mud took the opportunity to speak with Strider, “I understand you are a ranger. What can you tell me about Fornost Erain?” Strider puffed on his pipe as he eyed the elf and his companions, “I’ve heard of your quest. Seek out my friend Talendil who guards the area from intruders and grave robbers. Show him this hand-gesture (right hand thumb and index finger moved in a circle over the chest) to let him know I sent you. He will allow you entry into the ruins.”

And that’s when Glorfindel happened to walk by, “Do not be afraid of the ghosts that walk the area. But there are other things to be wary of; wraiths tainted by the dark-lord himself still haunt the place. If you do find forces, I’d rather you take note than engage and possibly give them warning notice they have been found out. They may hasten their plans if warned early. If you have to confront them, be sure none escape to give alarm. May the stars of Valor guide and protect you and prove the threat empty.”

March 23^rd: Lorig loosened his belt-buckle 2-notches and needed help climbing behind Mud on his mare Athel. The poor horse whinnied from the extra weight. Zim on the other hand, who stayed at the feast tables twice as long, merrily sauntered up to Axel’s horse Stedrick and sprang up behind the Rohirrim. “Let’s be off and prove Bilbo right.”

Embark (16): Once again Mud Guided the fellowship west out of Imladris and onto the Great East Road towards Bree. Their expectations high and eyes wide to soak in the wonders of the land awakening upon Spring. Along the way, Zim Scouted their night-camps, “Copse of trees to block the wind and hide our campfire. Look, even wild mushrooms to flavor our meal.” 

Lorig even found sprigs of Athelas growing among the thicket of small trees. “Dried and crushed, you can add this Kingsfoil to hot water to renew your stamina (remove exhaustion).”

They’d been along this road many a times before and always wondered at the sight of Weathertop to the north. Lorig spouted his knowledge, “Named Amon Sûl during its heydays in the realm of Arnor. Commanding grand vista of the surrounding lands. History tells how it once held a seeing-stone (Palantir) to rapidly communicate with the Dunedain King in Annúminas. The Tower was where Gil-galad and Elendil's armies met after the creation of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. But like the tower now crumbled to ruins, so too the alliance begins to crack into ruins. Distrust.” THAT was a downer, as most of the fellowship became disheartened at the history.

9 days along the road before they reached the Forsaken Inn. As they drew near, Ricfried had to listen to Vogar’s complaints, “Nine days and no dwarven wagons? I long for dwarven ale! And I remember the inn ahead serves piss for what he calls beer.” The dwarf’s thoughts distracted from his Lookout duties such that he failed to notice (till too late) the flock of black-birds take flight north. “It’s not like the Crebain know where we are going.”

May 2^nd: They shook the dust and grim from their cloaks and boots before entering the Forsaken Inn. As expected, a welcoming greeting from Jack the proprietor, “Close the damn door else you’ll let flies in.” Vogar corrected him, “You mean let them out.” Mud stepped forward to lighted the mood, “Drinks all around on me.” And that’s when he noticed the room empty. Jack snorted before serving his piss-beer, “What brings ya this way? I suppose you’ll want room and board for the night.” Zim jumped upon a bar-stool instead of sitting at the table with the others, “On our way to Deadman’s Dike to win a bet.” Vogar grumbled, “If the Crebain didn’t know our plans before, they do now.” That night, fleas jumped off Vogar and took refuge in his lumpy straw-bed.

May 4^th noon: It was another day-and-a-half ride onto Bree where they found the gates open and inviting. Townfolk actually happy and warmly greeted the new arrivals. They made their way straight to the Prancing Pony Inn. “Look! Times must have been prosperous; they’ve added more rooms in the back and fresh paint.” Vogar grumbled as he hopped off the horse, “They better not have watered-down the ale to cut costs.”

Inside, Barnabas Butterbur wiped down the counter as he added more mugs to Hilda’s tray. He looked up and was surprised to recognize his customers, “Well, if it isn’t young mister Zim and his traveling guards. Are they keeping you out of trouble?” Mud spoke up, “Drinks all around.” Barnabas was surprised, considering the room full, “WELL, well. You must be doing alright. Barliman, get the men seated and quench their thirsts.” Soon, a young 13-year-old struggled with a tray of 7 mugs, “But I only see 6 of you.” Zim removed 2 mugs for himself, “I don’t know about the others, but I’m thirsty. And no telling when the elf will be daft enough to offer another round.”

Barliman Butterbur

Bill Ferny

Mud flipped the boy 5 gold coins to pay for the bar-round. Zim already had the 2^nd mug tipped up to his lips when he heard coin clatter on the floor. He lowered the mug to see Barliman sprawled on the floor as a 17-year-old teen sat nearby laughing. It was obvious he had purposefully tripped the lad. Zim jumped up to aid the server and yelled at the bully, “Pick on somebody your own size.” Young Barliman tried to fend for himself, “Nevermind him, sir. Bill Ferny there is always pulling pranks.”

But Zim didn’t like bullies and continued the confrontation. Which prompted Bill to throw a pepper-shaker. Which Zim caught [DEXsave 18] and threw back, striking Bill in his nose. With tear-laced eyes, Bill ran from the bar, “I’m gonna tell my daddy!” Axel had to ask, “Who’s the bully now?” Zim’s only reply, “He started it.”

[Bill Ferny was the nefarious Fellowship-of-the-Ring Breelander who secretly dealt with the agents of Sauraman and Sauron. He originally owned the pony Sam Gamgee bought for 3-times his value. Sam named the pony Bill for his cantankerous mood.]

Axel went to the end of the bar to chat with other patrons. Where he learned the Bree-folk believed foul spirits haunt the ruins of Deadman’s Dike. “I heard tell there was a marauder’s fort up there years ago. Rangers and a group of strangers much like yerself roused them out. But the ghosts remain. And other varmints. Hell son, why’d yer wanta go there? Don’t tell Barnabas or he won’t let you run a tab. Afeared ya won’t return to pay up.”

Through all the commotion, Vogar was able to overhear gossip, “Cheated we are. Used to deal directly with Gondor. Now we gotta handoff our goods to those Dunlanders who deliver it the rest of the way. Half profits to us.” Another patron added reason, “Yeah, but your delivery schedule is sped up a third. You get more goods on the road now.” Trying to talk sense to a drunk never ends well. Later that night a fight broke out that Barnabas had to end with a club to their noggins. And Zim was there to witness as he stood on stage to sing songs he’d composed over the last years. Drunks were easy to entertain. As long as the ale flowed.

May 5^th: Mud was up before the crack-of-dawn and used the time to scout if anyone was tracking them. A near impossible task considering all the road traffic. The road north along the Greenway was not as well-maintained as the Great east Road. Less civilization; scattered farms at best.

Along the way, Zim scouted (29) the area from horseback. A sunken depression to the east suggested a basement of some ancient ruin. And basements were known places of treasure finds. But that area… something chilled his bones. Something evil kept his thoughts on Deadman’s Dike ahead, “There we should find treasure protected from grave robbers.” Only when they were well up the road did Zim mention the depression. Lorig supported his wise decision to avoid the area, “During the Witch-King of Angmar’s reign and terror, he cursed much within these lands. You might have felt the aura of an evil wight.”

May 10^th: Vogar, upon Ricfried’s horse at the end of the procession, spotted (20) ranger trail markers: sticks tied into a star pattern hung from tree branches. “Usually those mark a hidey-hole cache of supplies. Don’t look now, but we’re being watched. If it’s the ranger patrolling the area, he sucks at stealth.” Mud turned his horse from its lead position to look at the sign and saw the stranger standing in the trees not trying to hid. The elf spread his thumb and index finger and circled them over his heart. The ranger lowered his bow and stepped forward, “I am Talendil. And from your sign, I see you too are a friend of Strider. What brings you to this forbidden place?”

As Talendil scanned their faces, he recognized Axel and Zim, “I remember your horse-haired helm. You and that Hobbit spread news about tunnels possibly dotting Eriador. Haven’t found any yet, but we’re still looking. There may be Orcs within Fornost but we haven’t had the force to scout them out. Have heard about a large Orc named Gishak who is gathering forces. Maybe 30+. Careful you don’t run into them with your small force. As for entering the city’s underground, there’s a tunnel entrance on the westside. Well hidden. I can help you find it tomorrow. You can join me for supper; I caught some rabbits.” Zim perked up, “Coney? Don’t mind if I do.”

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May 11^th: After saying goodbye to the ranger, they continued north. Vogar squinted toward the cloudy skies, “Keep your eyes open for Crebain spies.” They soon came upon the ruins overgrown with lichen and ivy. Once grand walls of the city had long been knocked down and consumed by fire centuries ago. It was rare to find 2 stacked blocks among the verdant knolls and lush hillocks. A peaceful scene… if you didn’t know its past and the haunts that lingered. Talendil offered, “We let the simple folk believe in their superstitions that keep them from exploring here. We’ve enough problems to deal with; don’t need to rescue fools.”

[Arrival (9): Re-affirm their dedication] The glint of metal in the morning rays caught Zim’s eyes, “That could be armor of the Green Company archers!” They all dismounted and spent hours searching:

• Vogar [natural 20] left history to the others as he searched for threats. And soon came upon goblin tracks. “As small as a Hobbit’s but not as wide-based. Recent.”

• Axel kicked thru a tangle of vines and unearthed old broken blades and a 4ft long staff tapered at each end, “Looks like a short-bow with its strings long rotted away. Could be Hobbitish.”

• Lorig came upon a 6ft shaft with square-cloth clinging to one end, “This could be a company’s banner. Careful. I’m surprised the cloth hasn’t rotted away ages ago. Look close and you can make-out an ink print upon it.” Zim rushed forward to kneel beside it and copy the image, “When I return to the Shire library, I’ll compare it to what we have on record.”

• Mud too found bits and pieces of aged weaponry. But what caught his eyes, was the ghostly shape of wisps of brown smoke about the size and form of Hobbits. “Zim, these could be ghosts of your lost company!” Zim excitedly rushed to his side and spoke toward the wisps that were already melting away, “Oh brave warriors, I will sing your glory and serve proper burial so you might journey to the great banquet hall under the hills of the Shire.” 

• And that’s when Zim looked down and spotted a tube almost uplifted by the vines. As if the Green Company warriors were offering him a reward. “Look! I found an old map that outlines the tunnels below Fornost. Here’s an area marked as ‘Captain Rufus T escape tunnel’.”

And that’s when they realized maybe they should have left the horses behind. [Animal Handle] Axel spoke up, “Tie your horses head-to-tail behind my warhorse Stedrick. He will lead them south to our last campsite and safety.”

They entered the tunnel, keeping Axel in the middle since he alone did not have darkvision. Zim scouted ahead as Axel held onto Mud’s shoulder leading the way for the others. Roots invaded the tunnel along with rain runoff. Such that much of the painted glory of the underground passages faded away long ago. But there were snippets of murals and fresco that revealed a history of another white-tree of Gondor.

They pressed on past collapsed side-tunnels. They squeezed thru passages narrowed by rubble. Vogar muttered as he struggled with his tall-shield. Just enough light filtered into the passages thru cracks in the ceiling, allowing Axel to see his own way as they finally entered a grand room. Rays of sunlight shone upon an ancient throne on the far side of the room. “Look at the 5-pointed star.” Lorig stroked his beard as he mused, “Fornost Erain used to be the capital of the Dúnedain, where King Arvedui ruled.”

The dwarves approached the throne and marveled at its pristine condition, “Tight seams. No place for roots to invade. Truly a work of art.” Zim sat upon the throne, “Does kind of make me feel kingly. Inspiring.” Mud took notice of a stone-archway to the right, “Sindarin runes speak of a seeing-stone within. Inside there must be where the Palantir was displayed.”

And that’s when Vogar’s memories returned [Lore of the Lost] as he remembered how ancient kingdom treasure was normally stored under the throne-room floor. His inner-dwarven voice escaped his lips such that Lorig heard the dwarven language. And relayed the news to the others. Axel noticed another smaller tunnel on the other side of the throne, “Not as ornate and much smaller. This must be the escape tunnel Zim read about on the map.”

But Zim was already on his hands and knees searching for seams in the floor. “Here! There’s a clasp broken off. If I can just… get… this… dagger wedged in. Ooumph. Too heavy, I need help.” Axel joined his side and lent hand and muscle. With a great tug, they cracked open the vault sealed tight oh so long ago. Air seemed to gasp into the vault as if it had held its breath all those long years. The Hobbit was disappointed, “Golden dishes, drinking horns, crystal vases. All too big and bulky. Where are the coins?” But he was soon smiling when he uncovered a scabbard, “Axel, check this out! Really light-weight.” [a magical scabbard that bestowed an extra attack when unsheathed.]

Axel held the scabbard up to the light filtering in thru cracks. Only then, beyond the scabbard, did he notice ghostly figures emerge from the archway. The likes of hillmen from the north; blue eyes filled with hatred, “For Angmar! For our Lord!” It was an awkward fight as the fellowship dodged across the floor trying to avoid the open treasure vault as the ghostly apparitions floated across the floor. The archers maneuvered for positioning as the warriors closed ranks and stepped into melee.

Where earlier Vogar had complained about his bulky tall-shield, he now sought refuge behind it as he swung his named Warhammer. Ghostly longswords sliced the air and a few arms as both sides stayed the fight. [a lot of natural 20s swayed the fight] The chilled touch of the enemy raised the Shadowy presence but the fellowship did not falter, did not break. Nor did Vogar gloat when he slayed the ghost Mud had weakened. For all were too focused on their own fight. At one point, the Elf stood behind the shorter Hobbit as they twanged their bows in tandem. One by one, the apparitions fell.

At the end, Lorig moved amongst his companions tending wounds. Till Mud happened to notice the small face peering from the escape tunnel. That just as quickly withdrew from sight. Soon followed by the echoing noise of Orc voices. “Guys, we’re not out of the woods yet!”