Findegil nods and approaches the dwarves.
"Master Gindar, did you see anything else of the shadowy figure? Did they speak or guide the others?"
Listening to Elrond and Gandalf speak of the Dark One's knowledge of her and her companions did not bring much light and hope into Amalina's heart. The reliance on her being to insignificant in his machinations, while very true, did not exactly instill her with confidence and inspiration. But she would trust in these beings, so much older and wiser than herself.
Her eyes watch the battered dwarves as they tell their tale. She had no doubt of it's truth, the fear of what they had faced still lived within their eyes. Oddly, Amalina felt little fear, what were orcs, trolls, and even a powerful ogre, compared to being trapped within His mind and hearing his voice crushing down upon her soul. She would gladly face a creature of the world, even more so if it would possibly disrupt the plans of the Shadow and his search for the ring.
She nods her acceptance of Elrond's charge. The task would give her something else to focus upon. Something else to occupy her mind to let it heal and allow her to strike back in whatever small way she could. She then turns to the dwarf who spoke first.
"Master Bedar, first I will express my sorrow and sympathies for those you lost and the pains you and your companions have suffered." She says. "Is there anything you can tell us about the place where you were ambushed so that we may easily find it again? Landmarks we can use?"
"Did they attack during the day or did they wait until night?"
"Finally, I know merchants often share news and talk. Before you departed, had you heard of any other caravans being attacked or lost along the same route or in the same general region?"
Cereidh hangs back silently and watches the dwarves with a sympathetic expression - or her best attempt - heartened by Amalina's initiative in this mystery.
Gindar regards Findegil with a mild horror, as if he had asked his question to be unkind. The dwarf looks to Bedar and Vidar to answer instead. It occurs to you that Gindar is younger than the others, perhaps by a generation, though it is difficult to tell the ages of dwarves. Gindar's beard is much shorter, and while the others are bald and faces leathery, Gindar has a rosy cheeks and a robust head of hair tied back in a thick braid.
Vidar steps forward to answer the Knight. "It was elusive, a shadowy man, perhaps, cloaked in darkness. It stayed near the great Orge, the one the bandits called Captain. Forgive me; the ambush was sudden and we lost several of our good kin. I did not have a clear mind to study those which came upon us."
Bedar catches his breath when called on by Amalina. He swallows hard before answering. "Well, erm, thank you, Lady. We camped along the East Road. A clearing of browned grasses and lumpy hillocks. We was close to the road, such that we would have good forewarning of any folk coming by. But it was night-time, and though we see well enough, we was still surprised by them bandits. And they had trolls, too! And then came the Captain. Well, we couldn't fend them off, and in the confusion the three of us got separated from the rest. And then that Lady Elf appeared from nowhere and hustled us out of there."
Bedar stares at the floor in shame. "O'course, you hear about bandits, but never really expect it to happen to you, do you? But nothing like what happened to us. Anyhow, we rode for three days to get here, so I suspect our camp would be easy enough to find if you were so inclined. I might be grateful if you come across any, erm, you know, remains, or belongings."
Findegil pauses to listen and realises that he has been too brusque in his questioning.
"You have my earnest apologies for offense that I have clearly given. I intend to seek out this threat and vanquish it. Your kin shall be avenged and any remains and goods returned. This, I swear."
"Ah...yes, trolls. So they must be limited to moving and attacking at night." Amalina says thoughtfully. Then nods her agreement to Findegil's final statement. "Indeed good Bedar. We will treat with care, dignity, and respect any of your kin we should find. And rest assured we will return anything of value to you. We recently traveled with Anar of Erebor and learned much about dwarven ways and traditions from his fine teaching and example." She bows deeply at the end of her statement to show the older dwarf a high level of respect. "In the meanwhile, I will personally vouch for the fine hospitality and healing prowess of the elves. You will find no better or kinder place to heal and recover from your encounter with the minions of the Shadow."
She then turns to Elrond and the scout Gondril. "My Lord, if I may, do you have maps of the region I could study and copy with Gondril's guidance? I've not been to these lands before, so I would learn as much as possible before setting out in order to better serve our cause and my fellow companions."
"- Should you wish to rest now, I can help show you to the guest rooms of Rivendell, although it is not, usually, my own House. If it's a strange place, trust me that it will feel familiar soon."
Daughter!
Findegil grimaces inwardly.
I have already apologised. What a mistake to make!
Following the end of the council, Amalina spends what time she has pouring over Rivendell's maps and talking with Gondril about her most recent scouting excursion into the area. Knowing time is of the essence if they expect to find any kind of warm trail to follow, she's sure to have her things ready to travel whenever her companions give the word.
Gindar turns back to the circle and shoots her eyes at Findegil, but her expression softens with his sincere apology. He is only a man, afterall.
The dwarves appear visibly exhausted - for their trials and doubly for the interview just endured. But they have represented themselves well, and even Lindir's face emotes sympathy.
"Thank you," Elrond says by way of dismissing the dwarves. "The seneschal will see to your needs. You may rest in my home for as long as you desire, and at least until our friends here return."
With that, Lindir escorts the dwarves out of the council chamber.
"Gondril will be at your service, and will accompany you to the ambush site. Please inform Lindir of any provisions you require, and you may repair your armor and sharpen your weapons. The journey may be treacherous; do you not overextend yourselves if the enemy has the advantage."
Gandalf picks up the thread in his unique style. "Be clever: your mission is to learn what this strange collaboration of trolls and men is working toward, and to determine the identity of the one known as the Captain. But more important than that, do not betray yourselves to unnecessecary afflictions of heroism. The world does not need more martyrs!"
Elrond stands, and so does everyone else. "This council is at an end. You will set forth at dawn."
The party has the evening to ready yourselves. Please make all necessary preparations. While the dwarves mentioned it is a three-day ride, he neglected to say that Gondril walked beside her horse, which alternated carrying two dwarves at time. Unless you make your case to Lindir and prove your proficiency on horseback, you will proceed on foot.
Findegil presents himself to Lindir.
"Good Lindir, I am a knight of Minas Tirith, well familiar with horse riding, and my companions are clearly versed in woodcraft. We would make better time on horseback, if you would be willing to lend us steeds."
Lindir regards Findegil in the prickly manner you have come to expect in the short time you have come to know the seneschal. "Good Knight of Gondor, while I appreciate the task you have been assigned, well-heeled stallions may not be dispatched to every wanderer who simply desries to move more quickly. And although Lord Elrond has faith in your company, that does not mean you won't fail. No, the value of the horses in these stables cannot be overstated, and unless the need outweighs the chance they will not be returned, you will walk. Do avail yourself of any of the other services offered, such as mending and sharpening, and of course, restock your foodstore."
Players: please assign Guide, Scout, Hunter, and Lookout.
Then the Guide makes an Embarkation Roll: 1D12 + Survival proficiency bonus + Wisdom bonus.
Gylwinth: I will provide two rumors once the party is underway.
Cereidh raises her eyebrows at Lindir. "Good Steward, while I vastly appreciate - and I imagine we all do, having been out on the trail - these other kindly offered services, surely even among Elrond's house there are horses more accustomed to work than the well-heeled stallions are? As a delegate of another elven King, I hope that you trust I would not treat any gift of the loan of a horse poorly - for the horse's sake, and for Elrond's honor."
Lindir contemplates Cereidh. She is that rare enigma who seems to have a steady leg up on him. Although when it comes to his stables, the seneschal's resolve is strong. But, she does give him a second option.
"Very well. You may take two packhorses. In the event you recover any dwarves, alive or otherwise, you will need a beast of burden. And should your party suffer the same fate, these animals may at least find their own way home."
Fengel, the King of Rohan is rumored to be in declining health.
Thengel, son of Fengel, is expecting his second child. It is known that Thengel lives in fertile Lossarnach in southern Gondor and rumor is he could abdicate the throne rather than return to barren Edoras. Fengel has only one son, and little is known of the sisters of Thengel. Speculation abounds as to what Thengel's decision will mean for the Riddermark.
"My thanks, seneschal. We shall endeavour to return all intact."
He turns to Gylwinth.
"Gylwinth, I imagine that you have long practice in hunting the servants of the Enemy. Would you do so for our company?"
Embarkation Roll (WIS Bonus +2/Survival +6): 1d12 + 2 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 2 + 6 = 13
Wisdom Bonus is +3 so I'm assuming we round up when applying half. If not, please adjust the roll as needed. Also I'm traveling today, will try to post something more RP oriented later today or tomorrow morning.
Embarkation roll result: 7. Feasts Fit for the Kings of Ancient Times
Perhaps game is plentiful, herbs, mushrooms and root vegetables seem to spring up out of nowhere along the company’s path, or the cook brought exactly the correct amount of salt and pepper. For whatever reason, the company’s meals during this journey are a thing to be anticipated with joy, and to be remembered for days after. Accordingly, all members of the company receive a +1 bonus to all skill checks made during this journey.
Findegil, roll Perception.
Staying quiet while Findegil and Cereidh manage to convince Lindir to part with a pair of horses, Amalina finalizes the route with Gondril after replenishing her arrows and other supplies. While looking through the stores, she notices a grappling hook, some fishing tackle and a few other minor items that she thinks could be useful in the rough and harsh lands they were heading into.
"By all means, please do, Gylwinth."
************************************************
Findegil does his best to keep a lookout, fortified by the earth's bounty.
By first light of the following day the company assembles at the stables. Lindir greets you with indifference, but the two packhorses are fed and groomed and equipped for travel. A light snow has fallen into the valley - the first of the season, according to Gondril. The air is brisk and invigorating, and you are quickly on your way.
By mid-day you arrive at the Ford of the Bruinen. Its waters are low enough that you may step across slippery rocks and avoid wet feet. It occurs to some of you that this river may be great or shallow; Elrond has the power to influence even the forces of nature in his realm, should he choose to do so. But as soon as you climb the steep western embankment you feel a subtle sadness, for you know you are now leaving the safety of Imladris.
The East Road bisects the Angle to the south and the Trollshaws to the north, a dreary expanse of fetid air compressed against the mountains to the east. It’s a rocky forest country; beeches and pines rise thick from steep sullen hillsides and cliffs. The road passes through long, steep valleys under high ridges and alongside brooks where sleepy willows sway. Under the eaves of the Trollshaws the noon sun leaks thin and pale and the night is damp with fog and frequent drizzles of soaking rain.
On hilltops from time to time ancient ruins can be spied. Narrow-windowed watchtowers and squat keeps were built by conquerors to guard the land they usurped; but now they are jagged remnants after a thousand years of abandonment and plunder. No adventurers or would-be warlords occupy them. Travellers pass by as swiftly as wisdom can take them.
You observe almost no wildlife, and nothing larger than a rabbit, which Gylwinth skillfully harvests and adds to the first night's meal. By day, your horses are fearful and often skittish, the rare birdsong enough to cause them to wrestle against their handlers.
By evening on the second day of travel, Findegil spots an obstruction in the road ahead. Here, as with many points along the road, the terrain rises sharply on either side, too steep for horses. The obstruction must be cleared before you may proceed any further. As you approach, cautiously, you see the obstruction for what it is: a small landslide from the hillock, carrying down many small and medium sized beech and pine trees.
You may attempt to clear the trees, or do something else. Night will soon fall.
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Setting a steady but comfortable pace for the easy travel along the East Road, Amalina notes the passing of the ruins and the feels the loneliness of these desolate lands. Having lived so long under the dense, relatively untounched by the hands of man or elf, eaves of Mirkwood, she finds these lands that had been subject to such long histories of building, struggle, collapse, invasion, and war fascinating.
By the second day of their journey, she'd come to believe that the ruins of ancient Rhudaur matched her own life in an odd sort of way. Once a land filled with dreams, innocence, and hope for a bright future only to have it all brought low by the machinations of the shadow and men's own greed and desires.
Grondil had shared some of the area's sad history as she and Winter patrolled with the elf over the summer. And she did do again now. Pointing out the ruins of the Tirthon, one of the ancient beacon towers of Arnor and how it had fallen to an army of Angmar led by an Easterling commonly known as the Dark Mage of Rhudaur. Although the wars of the sister kingdoms happened long, long ago, the elf scout spoke as if she had witnessed some of the events with her own eyes. And perhaps she had. Amalina mused to herself. Her glance shifting between the elf who walked nearby to Winter trotting ahead, sniffing the air for sign of wolf or troll.
Noticing how the growing fog unsettled the horses, she starts to softly sing the first song that comes to her mind. A common tune often sung by woodmen hunters while traveling through Mirkwood.
There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.
The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he runs his bow,
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.
The tune is easy enough and much to her surprise Amalina actually hits all of the notes rather than her usual singing which often sent Winter scampering further up the trail.
But her song is cut short when Findegil gives a shout and points out the mass of fallen trees blocking the road.
"I don't like the looks of this." She says softly to Gylwinth and the others, immediately suspicious of such a barrier.
Her eyes scan the ridge for any sign of ambush, but the fog and approaching night make it difficult to see much beyond the ethereal mist enshrouded shapes of scrubbrush and pines. Sensing Amalina's unease, Winter's nose quickly works the air and his ears prick forward as the hound helps search for any sign of trouble nearby.
The air is so heavy, permeated with rot from the season, that only the keenest nose might catch a foreign scent. And Winter does. The hound growls low, his senses keening up the hill to the north. You see nothing, and maybe it is nothing. Whatever you do, you still have some daylight to work with if you work fast.
Hearing Winter's warning, Amalina tries not to draw too much attention to herself as she moves to the others warning them of possible danger on the hill to the north.
"Winter's troubled by something on that hill over there." She says nodding slightly to the north. "I think there's enough light to investigate if we want. At the very least we should be prepared for an attack if we try and clear the logs."
Findegil is about to approach the landslide and begin clearing a path, when Amalina conveys Winter's warning.
"I am in agreement, Amalina. Let us investigate this matter before night covers all."
While Gylwinth smartly leverages the strength of the packhorses to clear the obstruction in the road, Amalina, Winter, and Findegil climb the hill to the north. It is steep but not very high, and when they reach the top, some fifty feet above the road, they gain a view of the surrounding hillocks, tall spires of trees poking through the gathering mist.
Down the other side, the slope of the hill is cleared of most of the trees, and there, in a low spot, sit the petrified remains of three stone trolls.
"Agreed. We'll stay close enough that a shout should alert you to any trouble." Amalina says to Gylwinth as she is readying the horses.
Catching her breath as the reach the top of the hill, Amalina can't help but take in the view. It felt like they were standing on an island dotted sea of rolling mist. Each tree topped hill it's own partially shrouded lookout.
But then her eyes drift down into the opposite side of the hill and quickly make out the three large statues.
"Look there." She says to Findegil pointing at the stone works. "An odd place for someone to haul such intricately carved statues. And such horrible looking creatures as well...Oh! Oh my." Her eyes go wide and then narrow as they approach a little closer and she realizes remains for what they truly are. She whistles softly to Winter, three short chirps that send the hound to sniffing the ground in an expanding search pattern. She follows suit and begins carefully searching the area for any signs of more recent activity.
You needn't search long. The clearing is full of signs of current use, and all clues point to the large wooden door which covers a cave entrance at the base of the hill. Winter growls at the door. Someone, or something, is in there.
Quickly finding the footprints and following them back to the big wooden door, Amalina waves at Findegil to both signal and warn him of the find. Knowing to trust Winter's warning growl, she quietly calls him back and away from the door so they can figure out what to do next.
Her eyes scan the hillside above the doorway, check to see how low the sun is in the sky, then back to the hillside. She looks for any sign of loose boulders, stones, earth, or trees that could be felled before dark and be substantial enough to block the doorway and allow them all to escape.
Otherwise they'd best prepare for a nasty fight with however many stone trolls were smart enough to not get caught in the dawn.
Unfortunately, this side of the hill has been mostly cleared. There are three large petrified trolls that could possibly be pushed over, but you cannot get the horses over the hill, and it would take an act of incredible strength.
Findegil turns to the others and says softly:
"We should hide the horses, though somewhere that they can flee home from should the worst happen to us. Then, we find out who lies behind that door."
With a nod to Findegil, Amalina quietly signals Winter back to her side and hurries down the hill to alert the others.
"Stone trolls." She says to Cereidh, Gylwinth and Grondil helping push one of the logs out of the road. "Three turned to stone, but there's been more to the site since. We found a lair nearby."
She glances at the lowering sun. "We should prepare for an attack soon."
Findegil thinks upon the old tales, and his own experiences with the things tainted by the Shadow. He thinks about how best to slay or fool trolls.
"We could certainly work our way around and over the hills." Amalina says to Gylwinth. "But my guess is not before the sun sets and not quick enough to our run them. It'll be rough slow travel, and they'll know the land much better."
"We're best off fighting here as much on our terms as we can." She looks to the southern hill, for a bit of high ground and enough stone or trees that could offer at least a little defensive cover.
Amalina surveys the side of the hill. It is steep, but not high, only about fifty feet, an expanse any healthy troll would have no trouble covering. And it has been mostly cleared around the cave. In this immediate area, your only cover is the crest of the hill, and that advantage will be fleeting. Your survival experience also helps you realize that the packhorses, already skittish, may become uncontrollable if they see a large troll barrelling down the hill in their direction. Horse is a good meal for a troll.
All of this investigation has consumed a good deal of the waning hour of the evening, and the ambient light filtering through the perpetual fog is dimming by the minute. You may still be able to flee in time if Gylwinth has the road cleared.
Gylwinth, roll Animal Handling, one time.
Amalina shakes her head at Gylwinth, puzzled at first, but then understanding dawns in her eyes. Although she doesn't carry a looking glass or anything else big and reflective enough, her eyes suddenly land on Findegil and the polished metal Great Shield he's always carrying.
"Will that work?" She says, pointing at the knight's shield.
Finegil looks upon his excellent shield, emblazoned with the sigil of the White Tower.
Then, he grins and says:
"Aye, I think it might! The trolls may smell us out but we are not done yet!"
He raises his shield to catch the fading sun and readies to direct at any troll that emerges!