5e Middle Earth Adventures (Inactive)

Game Master Therenger

Cereidh shifts on her feet and smirks very slightly at the Mirkwood comment, as if holding an interjection she doesn't quite care to share enough to break into the current banter.

"That is the question, my good Beorning. Finding proof." Comes another voice from the behind those gathered in the hall. Quickly the crowd parts and Glorfindel steps forward with his usual serious look. The elf nods his head to those gathered. "To find the answer to the controversy posed by our two good hobbits, one would likely need to journey to that forsaken place where the events in question took place. Fornost Erain, the ancient fallen capital of Arthedain."

He shakes his head with sadness at the thought of the ruined city. "A dark and dangerous place." He directs a pointed look at Bilbo. "And not a place for those getting on in years and with other responsibilities to be going. Especially just to prove a point of honor."

Bilbo starts to argue against such nonsense, but after a few contemplative puffs on his pipe the hobbit begins to nod in reluctant agreement. "I do have my book to work on. Especially given the importance of written histories." He glances at Thorgrim. "After all we wouldn't want it said that no hobbit was at the Battle of Five Armies just because it wasn't written somewhere."

"Indeed, my good hobbit. Your reasoning is much the same as my own." Glorfindel says, placing a gentle hand upon Bilbo's shoulder, "I fear such a journey may be more dangerous to undertake during these darkening time. There are even more worrisome reasons for someone visit that city of sorrows and lost dreams." The elf sighs heavily. The ages long weight of worldly matters clearly weighing heavily upon his mind and heart. "Rumors come to us that the enemy may be gathering among those ruins. Building strength. Slipping past the rangers and our own scouts. I don't know for what purpose, but no matter the reason, it will certainly be to the detriment of the Free Peoples."

He turns to Thorgrim, Cereidh, Wulfight, Hobwise, Findegil, and Giles and bows his head. "Those who I've sent before have not returned and given we still face the troll threat, I've no more warriors to spare. You have proven yourselves stout of heart, mind, and spirit. Faced the shadow in some of its most deadly forms. I would ask of your willingness to make the journey to Fornost to see for yourselves if a danger is slipping through our back door?"

"And find proof about the Green Company and the Old Took's tale." Pipes in Bilbo, still clearly more concerned with hobbit honor than an army of orcs.

Yet the hobbits words break the shadow that had been filling the room and instead worried looks turn into smiles. Even Glorfindel breaks a grin as he bows his head to Bilbo. "Yes, indeed. If possible, do discover the truth of this matter as well. Otherwise, I'll be forced to listen to these two argue for weeks on end."

"If you accept, Lindir can see that you've provisions for the journey and see to replacing some of the items lost during your excursion to the south."

Wulfgith listened to the woes of Glorfindel, nodding every now and again to show that she was following his words. Then she looked to those present. "Well, what do you say?" She asked them. "Shall we?"

Hobwise waited for just one of his company to express interest, but only one. "We are honour-bound to investigate these ruins and discern the truth of the matter." His intent is to be cryptic, such that one may assume he means the truth of the rekindling of evil, as opposed to the certain but as yet undocumented history of the valorous Green Company.

"When can we depart?"

Cereidh remains quiet, apparently agreeable to the plan.

"We are?" Thorgrim asks, honestly surprised by that anyone would entertain the notion. "Two scholars have a contest of trivia amidst dusty tomes, and suddenly we have to go slogging in some dangerous ruins on a hunch?

And if you _were_ at the Battle of Five Armies," Thorgrim turns his gaze of ice to Master Bilbo, "I recall rumors that a dragon's hoard of treasure was to be had after Smaug was slain. Surely, if this is matter is of such great importance, you would not shirk from generosity to grease the skids of so historic an undertaking, eh?"

Thorgrim cared but little for goings-on of ancient hobbits, and if he stared dancing to the tunes of the elves for free, he would have no time to do anything that he wanted. And what he wanted was to find an inn with ale, and warmth, and music, and ask Cereidh to dance. It seemed no bad thing to ask for inspiration to put off so joyful an event.

Bilbo's face travels from smiling enthusiasm as Hobwise and Wulfgith accept the task, but then quickly arrives at frowning disapproval as the Beorning speaks of treasure and payment. Even Glorfindel and some of the other elves arch an eyebrow or two, many having heard of the trouble others had gone to to prepare a certain guests room over the last month.

A bit of silence fills the hall as Bilbo puffs his pipe in calculating thought. "Yes, well, one shouldn't believe every rumor that travels through a dingy taproom. That treasure was much the property of the dwarves." He says smiling to those in the hall. "And have you ever known dwarves to simply give away gold or silver out of kindness. Or for any reason for that matter." He adds with a chuckle.

"Now I was paid a minor bit of coin for services rendered." He says, smoke billowing from his pipe. "And I'll not let it be said that Bilbo Baggins allowed hobbit honor to be besmirched for lack of a few silver pennies."

"For the mercenary Beorning, I'll pay sixty silver now to cover what travel expenses might be incurred along the road. Then upon your return with the evidence, I'll gladly pay an added bonus of another sixty silver." He sticks his hand in his pocket, likely fumbling with a coin kept there. "Practically a king's ransom I must say, but worth the coin to see a wrong made right. Wouldn't you agree Master Hobwise?"

Hobwise raises an eyebrow. "Mercenary indeed. I wonder if we would rely less on swords than wits if he should decide not to go along. Wouldn't that be something."

He turns to address Thorgrim. "Before we parted ways overwinter, Amalina spoke of her travels into the Coldfells. A watchtower it was, if memory serves. Wulfgith, you were detained there, she said. Below the watchtower was a cave full of goblins where the company was nearly lost, and so wounded were they all that a great hoard of treasure was left behind. Surely it is still there awaiting plunder. Instead of silver pennies, perhaps Cereidh would escort you to that place after this errand is completed, Thorgrim, so that you may sate your desires and claim your true prize."

"Perhaps I would do so for misplaced works of great artisans and smiths anyway," Cereidh says mildly.

Wulfgith could only cover half her face with her hand when Thorgrim asked for payment. She couldn't blame him of course, he had lost a horse on the last journey they had taken and most of their supplies where gone thanks to the collapse that almost claimed her own life.

Wulfgith let out a long sigh as Hobwise brought up her detainment. "I recall sharply." She stated.

"There is the matter of getting new equipment however." Wulfgith remained the group. "We lost what when had when everything that collapsing when down upon camp. Had anyone already set about gathering more things?" She asked.

Thorgrim's demeanor suddenly transforms into something one might called amiable. "Excellent! There, now we have a pact. Coin for service. Such is how things operate, and all parties may feel advanced regardless of what is found...or not found.

And aye, Hobwise, aye. A great lost treasure is certainly an interesting thing. Once we've settled accounts with this over-stuffed tavern wager, let winds fill sails for this forlorn cavern with all speed."

As Cereidh voices her own agreement to escort him to the cavern of goblins, he takes a moment to look at her. Not because he doesn't like her answer, but because she is beautiful.

"During our recent leisure I have secured replacement kit for the sundries I had lost in the earthquake, so, once I am no longer short of coin, you may count me ready to sojourn."

He returns his gaze to this odd and probably easily forgettable Bilbo character and waits for his promised retainer.

The rest of the evening is taken up with preparation and talk of the upcoming journey. And of course the probability of finding any evidence of a hobbit company who fought in a war over a thousand years past. Most of Rivendell is abuzz with the tale and it seems about half support Lindir's disbelief of such a thing as hobbit's fighting during the last days of Arthedain, while the other half support Bilbo. It isn't always clear why these elves support the hobbit's theory. Whether it is simply a genuine belief in the tale's accuracy or a simple need for some elves to ever be contrary within their own ranks, no one can be quite sure. Regardless, Bilbo continues to be supportive of the upcoming expedition, including by providing Thorgrim with the promised sixty coins of silver.

With the evening to prepare and one final nights sleep in a comfortable bed, you wake the next morning to a bright summer morning that looks to turn into a warm, even hot day of travel.

Everyone is able to replace equipment and restock on consumable supplies. Be sure to mark down how many arrows you plan to carry.

Once all are ready to depart, Thorgrim needs to make a Departure Roll.

Before departing, Hobwise insists his dagger be returned to him, along with any other useful information about its nature. He also requires a new kettle to replace the one lost in the previous expedition. Dwarven made or Elven forged, it does not matter. After that, he's ready to go.

Departure!: 1d12 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 3 + 1 = 8

Although his budding relationship with the elf had set his mind to a prolonged light buzz, in his time he had not been idle. Of course for a few coins he had replaced the mundane gear left behind in the star-crossed camp, and this time he decided against mounting a horse. Though he counted himself a fine judge of horseflesh, the beasts proved too unreliable in the shadow-touched fens and holes he all too often found himself climbing into. Unless there was a beast as solid as Noctacide, he doubted such would be of benefit now.

So too, he had shouldered his way into the kitchens, preferring to try his hand at his long lost honey-cakes with the local ingredients. He didn't need to make anything worth writing home about, but as long as it stayed edible for at least a fortnight, he'd count it a win.

So, the provisions that the elves are giving us. Do we get...lembas?" {I went with that link not because it had the best recipe, but because it had the most funny name.}

While gathering her new gear, Wulfgith grabbed up four quivers of arrow. She put two away on Swiftkiss, but she would carry two with her at all time. She hoped this would keep her from running out, and if there are more than she expected she'd be ready.

Thorgrim: The rations are normal rations, not lembas.

You all basically have a choice to make on your route to Fornost. You can take the East Road to Bree and then north to the North Downs and Fornost. That would be about 450 miles. OR you could leave the road when it turns south and cut across the Lone Lands to the North Downs. This would reduce the trip to about 350 miles, but you would spend more time in wilder country. The choice is yours.

I vote for the shorter path through the wilds. We'll meet fewer travelers and game should be plentiful in summer.

Thorgrim nods in brief agreement as Hobwise councils for the shorter route. He still didn't exactly believe in this pheasant-chase they'd been roped in to, and making it take longer would net no more silver for him.

Agree.

I too agree with Hobwise!

Route selected.

The day of the fellowships departure from Rivendell is bright and hot. Thorgrim, Wulfgith, Cereidh, and Hobwise are joined by two others interested in the journey to Fornost Erain and the tale of a company of hobbits fighting in the last days of fallen Arthedain. One a Took, surely there to defend the Old Took's honor. The other, a dwarven scholar ever interested in discovering lost texts and tales. The chance to potentially delve the ancient ruins of the lost Dunedain city is simply too good of an opportunity to let pass.

As so the Fellowship of six stalwart companions sets forth from the valley of Rivendell on the first day of Cerveth in the year 2948. The summer sun shines high overhead and there is little breeze to ease the day's heat. The first night is spent camping at the Ford of Bruinen where the waters of the river run cool and offer a refreshing swim after a long days journey along the Great East Road.

That evening is spent under the stars talking of the journey and reviewing the rough maps copied from those stored in the libraries of Rivendell. After little debate it is decided the fellowship will turn northwest upon reaching the eastern flank of the Weather Hills. Although it means leaving the main road, it trims nearly a hundred miles off the journey and confidence is high that the time saved is well worth the risks of the wild country.

The next several weeks are spent recovering and recuperating within the peaceful halls of Imladris. Over that time spring gives way to the warm days of summer. Amalina with Winter at her side is seen briefly hurrying through the halls. Bandages wrapped around her leg and shoulder. The usual dirt and mud of the road covering the two of them from head to toe. She waves and smiles at you warmly before saying something about needing to report on the ongoing skirmishes with the remnants of the 'Captain's Army' in the north...

The rest of the evening is taken up with preparation and talk of the upcoming journey. And of course the probability of finding any evidence of a hobbit company who fought in a war over a thousand years past. Most of Rivendell is abuzz with the tale and it seems about half support Lindir's disbelief of such a thing as hobbit's fighting during the last days of Arthedain, while the other half support Bilbo. It isn't always clear why these elves support the hobbit's theory. Whether it is simply a genuine belief in the tale's accuracy or a simple need for some elves to ever be contrary within their own ranks, no one can be quite sure. Regardless, Bilbo continues to be supportive of the upcoming expedition, including by providing Thorgrim with the promised sixty coins of silver.

One member of the gallery of observers remains behind in the Hall of Fire once the heated discussion is over between the elf and hobbit. He is a tall man of Dunedain ancestry clad in well-made but worn travelling clothes and a leather corslet. A well-used but carefully maintained short bow across his back and a broadsword at his side revealed some level of self-sufficiency as well. Tanned skin evidencing a life lived primarily outdoors shows beneath a full, dark brown beard. Lively hazel eyes light upon Thorgrim as the man walks up and introduces himself.

"Greetings, Thorgrim, is it? I observed your part in the discussion just a few moments, and I share your concern that great danger may be risked for the purpose of settling a scholarly debate. Oh, my name is Ingold, by the way, recently come from the military action to the north where I served as a healer and counselor," began the Dunedain man, introducing himself and attempting to get the measure of the warrior before him.

Insight: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29

[dice=Insight](19) + 10 = 29

'Not all who wander are lost.' This phrase is draped over the thick Beorning like a cloak. Of all those assembled in this august place, he alone would most readily understand your recent flight. From the well-worn traveling boots to the simple sheath that holds the legendary sword Noctacide, this is one that is called to the road. The whole of his character is as unforgiving and guile-less as an endless stretch of highway on a hoar-frosted night.

"Greetings to you, Ingold," Thorgrim states simply, his deep voice rumbling like two boulders grinding themselves to dust. "Indeed, I see little point to braving danger, facing uncounted nights of cold and hunger away from warm beds and good ale, all for the sake of learning which dusty tome that sleeps unread in which deathly silent library holds the clearest version of forgotten history. I care not if the hobbits ruled the world with iron legions a thousand years ago, save that it would hardly explain their ways now.
Let the dead sleep the sleep they've earned, I say. But 'twould seem that ready coin would disturb their slumber anon.

You've come from the north, have ye? How fare things up their? I've a mind to see the land afore long. I hear that they are building the place up good an' rightly."

"I'm afraid that I didn't leave the main encampment very often, Thorgrim, so my information is limited. We are faring relatively well, though the continued skirmishes with the Captain's Army have given us our fair share of injuries. I daresay the Stormheart could give you a much better read of the situation, if you have a mind to discuss it with her," replies Ingold.

"But my purpose in speaking with you this afternoon is more urgent, I daresay. I came here following dark portents of the shadow's influence spreading--though how it might come to the stronghold of the elves I was unsure. Still the rumors spoken of by Glorfindel both worry me and illuminate my purpose--if there is a growing threat in Fornost Erain as the enemy marshals his forces, I would be part of the fellowship to investigate," intones the serious traveler.

With a step closer and a lower volume, Ingold continues, "I sense you are a man of clear purpose and direct intentions, but I surmise the argument over hobbit archers is merely a pleasant veneer to cover the true purpose of your journey--to scout out and possibly deal with a growing threat, denying the ruined city as a base for the shadow's machinations. My calling in life is to fight against this evil, and the people of Beorn have ever been fierce allies in the struggle against the encroachment of the shadow. I ask you, let me join your company and aid in this venture."

If Thorgrim accepts, Ingold will grant him a d6 of Scholarly Inspiration to use for planning their route (the Departure roll, I think) using his "Shadows of the Past" Scholar ability.

Thorgrim makes a casual and accepting motion with his hand. "If you seek to take to the road to court danger and glory, I would certainly be the last to gainsay such a path. Under Beorn's choking gaze my spirit withered, and I sought adventure and red roaring combat simply so that I knew I was still alive. If such a siren song also calls you to hunt the caverns of the enemy, you are welcome.

As far the rumors?" Thorgrim shrugs. "Ever are the elves jumping at the their own shadows. Methinks too long sitting in a dusty library reading tales of glory of one's ancestors makes one wish for some great, hulking enemy to slay. But reading books can dull one's edge, so one is called to send -others- to slay the beast.

I have never known a great legion of fell beasts to amass in numbers but remain passive for want of even greater numbers. So, as we do not also have tales of have-dead villagers fleeing the burning embers of their home, so thus I have low hopes for any excitement of this journey."

There is something invigorating in the man's words, and Thorgrim feels his own ability to lead the way freshened and enhanced.

Departure!: 8 + 1d6 ⇒ 8 + (2) = 10

Hobwise accepts the gracious gift of a replacement set of pots from Lindir. No they are not dwarven made - of course not. They're elven forged, and "Nothing special," according to the Seneschal.

Nothing special! Hardly, thinks Hobwise. These pots are likely older than the oldest living thing in Middle Earth that isn't an elf! They pre-date the shire. They pre-date Hobbits! Fired and set in another age. A million meals were cooked in these pots, Hobwise estimates. Now if I tell another from the Shire that I have a set of elven pots that are were made before the first ancestors of Hobbits crawled out of holes in the ground, they'd be mighty impressed! 'What can you cook with those?' he'd ask. 'Anything and everything," I'd respond. And then I'd prove it. I can't wait to try these out!

Hobwise is over the moon about his new pots, and when the company finally gets underway, the miles flitter underfoot as if he walks on clouds. Woe be the unsuspecting soul who asks him about those pots...

Doderic walks along, content, for a time, to merely smoke his pipe, burning only the best green the shire could offer, and listen to others speak. The only one he really knew was the girl, Wulfgrith, her name was. Or, so he remembered. A meeting in Dale at a festival, short and brief as it was. He also regarded curiously Hobwise, for it was not so often one found a hobbit outside the shire. Truly, it seemed as if birds of feather flocked together.

An interesting story he must have, as all traveling hobbits assuredly do.

Eventually, he chuckles to himself before performing a minor bit of "magic" by make the smoke from his pipe seemingly dance and shape to his whim. An easy trick, if you know the proper finger movements and have the proper breeze that you can work with. A large part of it was prediction, the rest, subtle influences.

Well I for one think its quite important that histories and stories are told properly. After all, if told improperly it only leaves folk arguing the withertos. And arguing folk lead to foul moods for all. Which is the exact opposite of what a tale or story should do me thinks. Indeed, a story should lighten ones load, and place a sparkle in ones eye. Truthfully, I have no doubt the hobbits were there. For when push comes to shove, we hobbits are a brave folk.

He takes another hit of his pipe.

After all, we wouldn't want anyone claiming you and yours did less than was true,
or more than was not.
And you can always trust a Took,
for we are an honest lot.
our tales and words an open book
and rarely if ever do we plot!

Doderic chuckles to himself.

Though, in honest and truthful thought,
I see glory not in war, but in art.
for while one brings shadow and despair
the latter partakes in all matters fair
and brings joy to all the lot.

He gives a friendly smile to Thorgrim,

Doderic Took, at your service.

He holds up what appears to be a small wooden carving, before with a subtle flick of his wrist, and whispered word close to his hand, it flies into the air before sparkling flames catch light and take it high into the sky.

The night at the ford passes uneventfully and it is a pleasant night sleeping under the stars with the air cooled by the river and its rushing waters. The next morning dawns early and clear with the promise of another unusually hot summer day.

Once underway, travel is quick and easy along the East Road. Soon enough Cereidh and Findegil are pointing out the hillside that harbored a troll who attempted to waylay travelers with the logs still sitting off to the side of the road. The stone form of the troll still sits just inside the abandoned cave where the reflected sunlight struck the surprised creature.

Three more hot days pass with the nights equally as warm when finally you come to the Last Bridge and the crossing of the Hoarwell. Descending into the valley is an inspiring sight with the blue ribbon of the river sparkling in the evening light. Green trees and shrubs lining its rocky shores. The ancient stone bridge with its long spans still stands proud above the river. The dwarven stonework still as sturdy as as the last time some of the fellowship visited this great span.

With the sun diving low to the west as you walk the switchback road down into the valley, it is time once again to set camp and rest for the night. But unlike other nights you notice other travelers upon the road. A wisp of smoke starts drifting into the sky from a recently lit fire and as you descend, you make out three wagons in the usual site and set for the night in a defensive triangle.

Ingold follows along thoughtfully, observing and considering before speaking. Those who have held their watch in the depths of the night have seen him struggling with dreams, though he never calls out. One night he woke up drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, but said nothing about whatever nightmare he had just experienced.

Please consider if Ingold has received any recent NEWS FROM AFAR if that applies:

News from Afar:
You know many things that are hidden from most and tidings of distant events tend to reach you with astonishing speed. At the start of each adventuring phase or after spending time in a Sanctuary, the Loremaster should inform you of one or two events of importance occurring somewhere in Wilderland. Scholars always know a little bit about everything and the Loremaster should regularly give you rumours or information based on your appropriate Passive ability checks. For more clarity you can always make an active ability check to learn more about a person, place, or event. Once per Adventuring Phase you can add +5 to one of these active ability checks.

FYI, Passive ability checks are:
Passive Perception 17, Passive Investigation: 15, Passive Insight: 20

With game plentiful and Thorgrim making quick, hot burning fires each evening, Hobwise has a chance to cook in his now pots. Since he saved the herbs from Lindir gifted prior to the last mission, the meals are both filling and flavorful. The trip is pleasant, despite the heat and many miles, but the curiosity of the petrified troll breaks up an otherwise dull trek. Between himself and Doderic, pipeweed is plentiful, and Hobwise appreciates having another hobbit in the company with which to reminisce.

Once they approach the defensive campsite, Hobwise counts their numbers, looks for sentries, and how they are armed and armored.
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27

"Thorgrim, this is your sort of thing. How do you want to play this?"

With the road beneath his feet, with both game and wood plentiful, and with Cereidh sharing the road with him, Thorgrim, finally, had no complaints. The hot day and cold nights may have had no effect for all that the hint of a smile stayed resolutely on the big man's face. With coin in purse and a red-roaring adventure in the offing, he breathed the free air and thought that this was how life was meant to live!

"Eh what?" Thorgrim starts at the hobbit. "My thing is it now? An' this were a band of orcs, aye, that is my thing. But this is obviously a band of scared merchants set for the night. We must needs go softly here.

Wulfgith, daughter of Wulf! Would you care to join the half-man and see that all things go smoothly?"

He spared a glance and a smile at Cereidh, not because he wanted her to join the pair, but because he liked looking at her.

Life is good.

Cereidh smiles back, her own mood having ridden light and buoyant during their trip so far. She'd regularly looped off the trail, just a little, to feast on the pleasant natural sights around them.

"In case things do not go well - should we find a defensive or hidden spot? I'm confident I can avoid being found in this dusk."

No need to be so cautious, take a look at them. Would bandits or other ilk camp so? No, I wager a little bit of a chat and friendly introductions would do wonders. Of course, if you are all worried, I will take a gander first.

Doderic walks up to the wagons, sticking to the shadows on the side of the road. He tries to get a look at the folk in the camp, wanting to make sure, at the very least, they are not easily apparent followers of the shadow.

stealth: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16

Any of the twisted creatures, or particularly outlandish men.

if nothing seems to terribly out of place. He will move to make himself known, keeping ready to dodge away from an attack, but otherwise unarmed holding his hands up.

Greetings fellows! Its always good to meet others on the road, especially in times as these! I merely couldn't keep my curiosity down and wanted to say hello! I've many a tale to tell, if you would enjoy the extra arms and company.

riddle: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

I think riddle would work?? I'm not quite sure honestly.

Prior to the Fellowship's Departure

Doderic: Traditions is probably the right skill to use for initial greetings and good impressions.

Doderic and Wulfgith continue across the bridge to learn more of the travelers camped upon the other side. From the vantage point on the eastern side little can be heard on the western, although Wulfgith upon Swiftkiss remains in view as she rides up to the circled wagons.

During the first few days of their journey, Ingold asked many questions of his companions about their previous experiences, adding first-hand testimony to the rumor (and legend) of their exploits (meaning I am going to now read the the full Gameplay story unless there is objection).

"Hobwise, you are an excellent and honorable chef and hobbit. We are favored by the ancients to have such excellent fare during our journey," said Ingold the previous night, having benefitted from several sumptuous repasts over past few days.

As Doderic prepares to head off to investigate the camp, Ingold cautions, "Beware, my good Took, for I have heard tales of ghosts and spirits wandering the land from the elven scouts--best make sure our fellow travelers are manifestly mortal before engaging them in conversation." Musing aloud to himself, he adds, "Of course, it could just be hungry Hillmen come down from the mountains, looking for an easy meal."

"He will be fine. I shall see to that." Wulfgith told Ingold with a reassuring nod as she and Doderic readied to head off.

From where the rest of the fellowship waits, it looks like Wulfgith and Doderic have been invited into the camp as Wulfgith dismounts. But so far you've seen no signal that all is clear to proceed.

"This is taking far too long," Hobwise says to rest of the group. "I'm going to scout around."

Stealth: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27

The Hobbit disappears into the landscape, looking for any signs of distress, obfuscation, or subterfuge, while keeping an ear trained for sounds of trouble.

Cereidh shrugs, continuing to hide where she is.