Mal shoots another arrow at the orc in melee with Findegil but misses again horribly.
Findegil and Anar drop the orc in melee with Findegil.
The last orc along the path closes into melee with Findegil.
The hail of Goblin-arrows continues. A poisoned arrow misses Anar.
The last Orc to join the fray is dread Ubhurz himself, the Orc leader. He too scales the side walls like the Goblin skirmishers, then charges into the rear of the company wielding his mighty scimitar. Ubhurz is a huge Orc of the Misty Mountains, an infamous hunter and mercenary and closes into melee with Mal!
Engaged in melee with the Orc leader, dread Ubhurz himself, Mal drops his bow and draws his sword. He has learnt how to gain an advantage in a fight from being smaller than most of his opponents and steps inside the reach of the Orc's bent sword. But, the orc's mail turns Mal's sword away.
Cereidh spins to shoot Ubhurz, stepping quickly away. "You've simply walked into the thick of it, sneak-thief and coward!"
"I shall hack down this orc then come for you, coward!", shouts Findegil, as he strikes his original foe.
Findegil strikes his original foe.
The last orc along the path closes attacks Findegil again without success.
Anar, Mal & Cereidh all fail to wound the orc leader. Ubhurz turns to attack the dwarf but fails to wound.
Between the orc leader's legs, Mal draws his dagger and attempts to make him pay for not stepping away from the wild hobbit.
17 hit
19 hit
Both hobbit blades carve orc meat.
Eager to end the orc threat, Findegil strikes hard!
Cereidh draws again, and shoots.
Findegil strikes his original foe.
The last orc from the path counter attacks Findegil again without success.
Mal and Cereidh strike true.
Ubhurz focuses on the dwarf and slashes him down.
Cereidh draws her broadsword and strides forward to stand above Anar and engage Urbhurz, unsure if the orc will think to break from his bloodlust to deliver a finishing blow to his prone foe, but unwilling to risk it.
Between the orc leader's legs, Mal draws his dagger and attempts to make him pay for not stepping away from the wild hobbit.
18 hit
20 hit
Both hobbit blades carve orc meat.
Findegil strikes and drops his original foe. He then closes into melee with the leader.
Mal strikes true again.
Ubhurz focuses on the hobbit who is killing him. He connects with the hobbit and steps away from Mal's blades.
Mal slashes Ubhurz when he steps away from him.
25 crit
Mal moves back between his orc's leader.
18 hit
Both hobbit blades carve orc meat.
Cereidh steps smoothly after Ubhurz to continue her assault with her broadsword.
"And now you face our full might, goblin-kin!", quips Findegil as he swings at the orc leader!
With Cereidh’s last slash the orc leader drops dead. When Dread Ubhurz is defeated, the remaining Goblins flee the hilltop in terror. As the Goblins go shrieking into the night, the survivors bind their wounds. Iwgar and the Breelanders find the scattered ponies, repair the carts, and load up the supplies that could be salvaged. Once ready, the whole caravan can depart again. The road lies straight east, and the going is easy.
Ten days after rescuing Dindy, the company reaches the Easterly Inn and the warmest welcome east of the mountains. Dody throws a feast in the company’s honour. Dindy is shaken by his ordeal, but a few days of good food and soft beds soon put him right.
The loss of some of the supplies means that Dindy will have to return to the West next year to purchase replacements. If any of the company wish to travel with him, they can find ready employment as caravan guards or guides. For now, though, the beer is good and the company is merry at the Easterly Inn, a little outpost of the Shire in the Wild!
"Oh no, I can't return to Court yet," Cereidh says over her dinner one night. "After slaying a simple orc? I haven't one-upped Legolas yet."
"I seek to only return to the White City with word of my deeds with me. I would set much right in the North before returning in triumph, as befits one of my lineage."
"Perhaps your people have a spare dragon to slay? If so, I'll come along."
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Before heading to the land of his peoples Anar goes for a walk one morning near the woods around the Easterly Inn. The sunlight slips down through the trees to light up the wooded path. The tall limbs of the trees arc over the forest lane.
Hmm..perhaps not all is what they say of these woods. This area is as peaceful as the hard rock under the earth. I dare say that I could get used to the forest but it isn't bad this morning
Suddenly he hears a noise...he moves to investigate and sees a baby raven making noise. It appears to have lost its mother.
"Poor thing...my fathers use the birds as messengers and pets. Perhaps you need some grain and milk" He says out out. He gently picks the tiny bird up in a handkerchief and takes it to the cook at the Inn. He procures some milk from the cook. "I shall name you Corwin." he says and cares for the bird for several weeks as it grows in strength.
"I will travel with you, Anar. I would see the Lonely Mountain for myself!"
On route, a pair of messengers greet the small party on the road, bearing the livery of Minas Tirith.
One speaks, while the others retrieves something strapped to his horse.
"Hail travelers, we have found our man. Sir Findegil, word of your honourable deeds has reached the White City. From the Steward's own armoury comes Foewall, a shield that knows no mark of the enemy's blade. Wield it with pride!"
As he speaks, the other presents a glorious great shield, emblazoned with the sigil of the tower. True to the messenger's word, it is unmarked!
Krogen spends most of his time in silent reflection as he writes in a journal, he seems troubled by what he has faced on this journey.
On her own time, often during the chill mornings, Cereidh bundles herself in a cloak and repairs to a birch grove in the woods, where she slowly sets about carving a small statue of an elk.
She has to try over several times as the horns twist out of her vision for them.
Cereidh frowns at the oddly predatory looking little statue and keeps it to quietly add to the kindling under the party's next campfire.
Late in the evening, a rather gaunt looking woman enters the Easterly Inn accompanied by a large white wolfhound. Her face is thin and weather-worn from long days of exposure to the elements and her brown eyes have a haunted look as she quickly looks over the room, eventually spotting who she assumes is one of the proprietors. A strand of black hair has escaped its long braid causing her to brush it casually behind her ear revealing an old scar that runs just below her ear and down her neck
She's dressed in heavy hides and clothes of brown and green common among the Woodmen who live under the shadow of Mirkwood. Her heavy cloak and boots are travel worn, patched, and thread bare in many places but as clean and cared for as could be expected for a traveler apparently at the end of a long journey. Perhaps more telling are the well oiled axe with the recently sharpened blade hanging at her side, and the great bow and quiver of long hunting arrows stored safely across her back.
For a moment she rests a gentle hand on the shoulder of the hound and then signs for the big creature to sit off to the side of the door. Easily following his mistresses command, the hound circles a couple of times and slides into a casual sitting position, its dark eyes carefully watching its companion walk across to greet the hobbit behind the bar.
”Greetings and well, met good sir.” She says in a soft, gentle voice, much younger than her appearance would reveal. She holds out a callused hand in greeting and continues on quickly, with a hint of shy nervousness. ”Would it be possible to...get a meal and spot in the stables tonight? I've not much money, but I'd be willing to perform a bit of work to earn keep. She glances at the fire keeping back the spring chill. Perhaps cut more wood for your fire, or I'm quite good with animals if you've any that need tending?”
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Perhaps he had always had a wanderlust. Perhaps the tales of the Lonely Mountain and the battle with The Dragon spoke to something deep inside him. But one day as he did not show up for his turn watching the path for travelers, most simply decided that it was his sword that could not sit idle.
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A big man in well-kept mail entered the inn. His hair was black and roughly shorn to the shoulder. His eyes were blue like the sea after an angry storm. But what most noticed was his sword. 'Twas a mighty thing, needing more than one hand, and rode on his back like it was looking for a fight.
And indeed it was. For the blade was Noctiscide, the Shadow Slayer. And it had lain idle too long.
"Wine," he states, taking a seat at a rough-hewn bench. "And a joint of beef, an he have such fair. Long have been on the road, and I'm ravenous as a sea-drenched lion."
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A flaxon-haired girl of marriageable age deposits a jug filled to the brim with heady red wine and a board sagging under the weight of a great steaming leg of beef. Thorgrim passes over a few coppers for the meal and the girl sweeps up the coin with an expert motion as her eyes linger on the handsome man's broad shoulders a bit longer then her profession required.
Thorgrim takes out a fine dagger and makes ready to tuck into the repast...when he catches snippets of the conversation nearby. Apparently an under-nourished woman and her "pet" were all but begging for meal and a roof.
Morally unable to see a woman in need and not offer aid, he bades his growling stomach to go away and be patient. His broad voice booms out to get her attention. "Ho there, fellow traveler," he states at Amalina. "I see you are in need of nourishment. And you can see, plainly, that I seem to have been given more food than I could finish in a week. Will you not come and share my table? 'Tis the least I could do."
With a motion the serving wench brings over another cup and Thorgrim fills it with the cool, red liquid.
Findegil is just returning to the inn, having been out hunting later than he expected.
But successfully, judging by the deer carcass he is hefting in.
And then he sees the short figure stumbling towards the front door, in a great hurry.
What is this?, the man of Gondor thinks as he continues walking towards the inn.
He enters the front door, and calls:
"There will be venison for tonight!"
Amalina turns toward the big warrior and is about to respond, when Agatha steps out of the kitchen, traditional big wooden spoon in hand. The cook's entrance is immediately followed by Findegil's with the deer slung over his shoulders.
Clucking with motherly consternation, Agatha waves at Dindy and Amalina. "You want to earn your keep girl? Well here's your chance. Bring that carcass back to the kitchens before he makes a mess of my fine floors." She says giving Amalina a good look up and down with her experienced eyes. "You look like you know your way around skinning and cleaning." She says before adding with a chuckle. "Men...proud enough to do the killing, but leave it to the womenfolk to do the real messy work."
Slightly surprised by the whirlwind of events, Amalina stands locked in place for a second before finally giving the portly cook a smile of thanks and nod of understanding. She quickly takes the carcass from Findegil as ordered. Her thin frame hiding an obvious strength as she easily makes the switch and follows Agatha into the kitchen. Only stopping for a moment to whistle to the big wolfhound who jumps up and quickly follows.
Once out back of the kitchens, Amalina easily cleans and skins the carcass, being sure to lay out the hide so it can be stretched and tanned. She sets aside the liver, heart, and other useful parts knowing many cooks can often turn them into pies, sausages, or other specialty dishes. Soon enough she has the whole thing taken care of with strips set aside for smoking, and steaks and roasts for the evening feast.
"As I thought." Agatha says to the young woman after seeing her work. "You've a deft hand with the carving knife." Her nose wrinkles at the site of Amalina's, now blood covered hands and arms. "But before you do anything else. Let's get you cleaned up..."
Krogen looks at the newcomers as he enters the common room and smiles at the thought of venison for dinner. makes him think of home in the north.
Greetings everyone, oh thank you for gathering the venison Findegil, its been a long time since i had some it was always one of my favorites.
Findegil smiles at the woman who hefts away the deer carcass, but focuses his attention on the bedraggled figure who entered just before him.
When Krogen calls his name, he does turn to the scholar and wave his arm in a friendly manner to acknowledge his thanks.
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Having washed her arms, face and hair, in warm water for the first time in weeks, Amalina felt like a whole new person. A brush removed the knots and tangles from her hair and she was even able to get some of the dirt from her cloak. As she leans back to let the sun warm her freshly cleaned face and dry her hair, she notices the small, dirty figure climbing up through a second floor window.
An agent of the shadow already tracking me down? She wonders, the small fire of momentary happiness suddenly doused in worry and frustration and then anger. Well, Agatha had been kind to and I won't let the Dark One's minions run free in this place.
"Come on Winter." She says quietly to the big wolfhound. "We've a hunt." At the word hunt the hound's ears go forward and it's calm demeanor is suddenly alert and much more fearsome.
Stepping back into the kitchen, Amalina spots and grabs a prepared tray of food. "I'll take this out for you." She says to Agatha whose hands and concentration were busy cutting carrots and potatoes to go with the roasted venison.
"You're a dear." She says without turning around to see how tense the young woman has become. "That's a tray for the hobbit in the room upstairs. Third door on the right. Our maid was supposed to take it up a bit ago, but the silly girl is probably out flirting. I saw the way she mooned over that big warrior who walked in not long ago."
Without another word Amalina slips up the servants stairs. She sets the tray aside and rests her hand on her axe as she tries to quietly move down the hall, Winter at her side. Unfortunately the floor boards are loose and her attempt to move silently is more a series of slow creeks and squeeks.
Although she listens and searches the hall carefully, Amalina doesn't find anything. Perhaps it was just my mind playing tricks on me. Seeing shadows where there are none. Too much time on the run and without decent food.
Winter sniffs at the door to one of the water closets but Amalina waves the big wolfhound away. "Leave it be." She says. "Surely a goblin didn't sneak in just to use the privy." The hound grumbles and gives a short bark, still at the door, but the young woman snaps her fingers. "That's enough now. You'll have the whole place rousted and get us thrown out. It was nothing but my own foolishness."
With a shake of her head, she returns to grab the tray of food and knocks on the door of the hobbit's room. Not getting an answer, she calls a couple of times, but still to no avail. With a shrug, she sets the tray outside the door and heads back downstairs to finish her work in the kitchen and then to the stables to take care of the ponies like she promised Agatha she would.
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Thorgrim shakes his head as the comely lass declines his offer of free food instead for the hot and hard labor of the kitchens. The ways of women were ever a mystery to him.
"Greetings to you Anar," says Thorgrim, slicing off another steaming cut of meat and chewing with gusto. "I am Thorgrim of the Red Shield. By birth I am a Beoring, but my feet have lead me a merry dance, and I call naught my home, for the now."
He drinks deeply from his leathern jack of red wine.
The sun has dropped behind the mountains by the time Amalina finishes up her work in the stables. She steps back into the kitchen to let Agatha know, only to have the cook thrust a plate of food into her hands.
"Here you go my dear. You've done as promised and done it well, so now it's time to put a little meat on those bones of yours." She says and then tosses one of the big bones from the deer to Winter. "And a bit of something for your companion as well."
"We've no rooms what with the caravan still here and several other new arrivals, but since you already mentioned the stables, well your welcome to stay if you please. You probably saw there's already a cot and small room in the back setup by our former stable master before he up and ran off last year. "
Amalina smiles and bows her head at the cook. "My thanks for your kindness and hospitality, mistress. If there's other work that needs to be done, I'm happy to stay on and help...for a little while at least."
Agatha nods thoughtfully. "I'll put my mind to what we might need done around here. You come see me in the morning. Now go and eat."
With Agatha shooing her from the kitchen, Amalina ducks into the common room with her plate and finds a dim corner table for her and Winter to quietly eat their meal.
Findegil walks up to meet his friend Anar, and catches the beorning introduce himself.
"Hail, Thorgrim of the Red Shield! I am Findegil, Knight of Minas Tirith. I see you have met Anar of the Lonely Mountain. How fares Beorn? We visited his house some moons past on the behalf of the Council of the North."
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At the mention of Beorn, Thorgrim broods mightily and fills his jack. "He fares...well. And that's the fault of it! Each day he turns more into a merchant, delegating patrols and talking of tolls taken. Gah! Such boring lives the people now lead! 'Tis all very well and good, I'm sure, but I was not made to stand idle at some crossroad, counting coppers paid by this silver-monger and that laborer.
Beorn fares well, but I would see new sunsets 'ere I settle down."
He takes a long draught.