Everything is fairly uneventful. Fatigue test time! TN is 14. Several players have bonus die for this test.
The native of the Mirkwood spends a few moments considering the season and beasts commonly on the Western side of the forest, and adjusts his gear slightly for the expected weather and likely creature encounters.
Waiting on Fatigue checks from the rest of the group.
Aeddan trudges along keeping his head down.
That is true, Galadhon; however, Ayluin may enable you to succeed rather than fail. Doing so will negate the risk of a Hazard.
Gori hasn't posted in about 3 weeks, it looks like, so I'll place him in "stasis" until he checks back in.
You all succeed (though Galadhon relies on the advice of Ayluin to do so) and make your way towards Mirkwood. The journey takes nearly two weeks, but the weather is pleasant and you have all come to enjoy each other's company, so the road does not appear to be overly toilsome.
Shortly after passing the Forest Gate and entering into Mirkwood, you are greeted by a Wood Elf patrol. There are six of them, and they are armed, but they do not seem threatened or surprised by you. What do you do?
"Mae govannen! I am glad not only to see your patrol, but also that you appear unharmed. I am Caunlaigdir, and have spent some time working patrols such as yours."
Aeddan grimly watched as Caunlaigdir exchanged greetings with the wood elves.
The Elves nod to you, Caunlaigdir, recognizing you as one of their people.
"Pray tell, brother, what brings you back to our wood?"
"Had I not lived it, I am uncertain I would believe it myself. We met the Brown Wizard, and he gave us words for King Thranduil. I am leading my companions to him so that we may discharge the Wizard's purpose."
"Seldom are the tasks of the Istari simple or without great import. Did the Brown One give you any missive that we may carry to our liege?"
"Only to announce our presence with his message. I thought I was clear that he tasked us to ensure delivery, not to hand the task off to others."
"That may be so, but in these unsure times, we must take extra care, even with one of our own when they come in the company of outsiders. We will carry this message to the Elven-king; you have our word of honor."
Ayluin speaks softly to his companion.
"Peace, Caunlaigdir. These Elves merely perform their duty, as you would were you a patrolman for Thranduil King. If they shall transport our message for us, mayhap we may enjoy their hospitality for a bit, for even I am weary after our travels!"
"Take us to him and hold our arms and armor while we deliver the message if you must, but you will not insult us by relieving us of our task as though you are better suited to pick who serves the needs of the Istari than the Istari themselves."
The faces of the patrol turn steely.
"And yet, you would insult us, your own people, by so presuming we could not transport this message directly? Think you that the Elvenking, wise and powerful, would ignore the counsel of the Istari? So let it be; if you serve the needs of the Istari, ignoring the honour of your own folk charged by their King, we shall treat you as merely a servant of the Wizard."
The patrol leader who was speaking nods to his companions. They produce blindfolds.
"Since you deem we poor fools incapable of completing a task so daunting as relaying a message to our Lord, that he may judge for himself how best to proceed, you shall be blinded, and fettered. We will take you to a glade, and there you may keep your message to yourselves, and wait on Thranduil's pleasure. Had we seen one of our own kinfolk among you, surely we would have offered you refreshment after so toilsome a road; yet since only Wizard's pupils reside among you, we cannot be certain of thy quality, and you must remain under suspicion until our Lord gainsays this; clearly such a task is beyond those as lack-witted and incapable as we."
Ayluin closes his eyes, stifling a sigh. He had foreseen this, though as a stranger to the Wood-Elves, he had no power to stop it.
Ayluin steps forward slowly and calmly. He holds out his hands to be bound and readies himself to accept a blindfold.
"Do your duty," he says, ready to accept whatever conditions they impose.
"No pupils here that I know of, but you know as well as I that a messenger who hands over his message to anyone else has failed in his task. If this is the only way you can feel powerful enough to let us deliver the message, than so be it."
You are all blindfolded and led through paths. Though they were unhappy with your manner, the Elves guide you true, and your journey is without difficulty.
Your blindfolds are removed, and you find yourselves in a large clearing, lush with grass and ringed by the forest.. The trees of Mirkwood grow thick and powerful all around, blotting out even the sun, but there are cunning lamps that shine with light like unto the stars, illuminating the clearing.
Two of the patrol remain with you. The rest leave to convey what has transpired.
Several hours pass uneventfully.
Eventually, a tall Elf that seems to radiate power and charisma strides swiftly from the treeline. Their fine clothes, green and white, are stained with dust and mud as though they have traveled in haste, but their face betrays no weariness.
Caunlaigdir, you know that you see the King of your people, Thranduil himself, before you.
He speaks to your group.
"So. It is as they said. One of my own subjects, and they flaunt decorum. Well, you are no courtier, this I know. You say you have a message. I will have it, and your names. I would have all the facts before I consider what you have brought me."
Thranduil holds out his hand expectantly.
This is a social encounter.
Thranduil is displeased that you did not follow the protocol that his watchmen set, but is curious about the message you bear.
Ayluin bows deeply, speaking in the Elvenking's native tongue for a moment.
After that, Ayluin will slowly and deliberately open his pack. He will produce a bottle of the wine that he purchased when they Trader's Isle.
"This is a particularly fine wine, m'lord. It would honor us all greatly if you would partake in a cup with us."
Though he lowers his eyes and offers the bottle in seeming supplication, any gathered can perceive a grace revealed in Ayluin; in the presence of one of the great among the Eldar, the countenance of the grubby ranger has begun to melt away, revealing one of the Men of Elendil lurking beneath.
Galadon keeps his counsel in the great wood, allowing Caunlaigdir to set the tone, though he marvels at the idea that one tasked with delivering a message to a king would reveal it to a mere forest patrol. He nods with approval when Caunlaigdir refuses to make so light of the Brown Wizard's task.
Galadhon bows low, for he knows the King of Mirkwood is great among both the Sylvan elves and the Sindar, a kinsman of the elves of lost Doriath.
"I am honored, great lord," he says. "I am Galadhon, son of Oronthir of the House of Finarfin. I offer you greetings from Master Elrond. Long have I desired to look upon your land and I see the tales were no exaggeration."
Thranduil does not smile, but you sense the Elvenking is pleased. He gestures to the treeline, and from it, a servant approaches, bearing a cup. He fills the cup with your wine, Ayluin, and hands it to Thranduil.
The King of Mirkwood swirls the wine, examining and sniffing it. One eyebrow raises, but in appreciation rather than disdain. He tastes the wine, savoring it, and nods approvingly before speaking.
"An age of Arda, it has been, since one of the House of Hador and one of the House of Finarfin have stood together openly, though I do not doubt that you, at least, scion of Elendil, conceal through cunning arts thy true presence from the Enemy. Longer, still, it has been since Dunedain and Noldo have stood in my forest as my guests. You are welcome. Let us share wine. I will have that message as well. Tell me, as I read, what word from Lord Elrond? What news from Rhovanion?"
"My king. Radagast chose to give us this message for you after we saved one of his agents, both from men of dark intent and powerful venom, and then we helped him heal most of the men in a settlement. These companions have displayed strength in the face of shades and skill at helping others."
"But delay was not indicated, and, so." The young elf extends the missive in his right hand, bowing above it.
Thranduil takes the missive, sipping wine as he reads. His brow furrows as he scans the parchment, then he regards your company.
"Are you aware of the contents of this message?"
"My king, he did not give us the specifics, but he did tell us he was requesting your assistance, and asked us to plead his case should you hesitate."
He sniffs.
"Aye, that is the way of the Istari. The letter says this; I should come and give aid and counsel in determining why Orcs from so far as the Misty Mountains are so far afield that they trouble the Woodmen.
Tell me; what think all of you of these matters?"
Ayluin partook of the wine himself, mulling over the Elvenking's words.
"My thoughts are troubled by this, Thranduil-King. Long have I feared that the Shadow was not so quiescent as we may have wished, and if fell Goblins from the cold of the Misty Mountains are so far afield, indeed, then I fear that the power of the Orcs are not so broken in Rhovanion as we thought after the Wyrm was slain.
Many bonds of fellowship were forged that day. I know that the memory of the Eldar is long, and doubt not that you have grievances against some that dwell in Rhovanion. Those are yours, and you are Lord of your people, and must be proud and strong, and so they are legitimate. But even as your strength shelters those that dwell here, in the eves of the Greenforest, so too could the might of the Firstborn inspire and aid the mortal children of Iluvatar. You do not owe them this, but it would be a testament for all time of thy magnanimity."
Aeddan simply stated, "It is only prudent for the elves of the woods to aid their allies."
"I am just one of your soldiers, my king, so I am certain there are many things about our world I do not understand. But it seems to me that as we have watched the Shadow seep into our forest, into our home, it has shown us that the more territory the Shadow controls, the more powerful it becomes. We could leave these men to their own devices and watch to see if they defend themselves well or if their homes are claimed by the Shadow. If they lose, though, then the power of the Shadow will continue to grow, and the task of defending our homes and our people from it will become more onerous. I would ask that you encourage our people to defend themselves and their homes. Such defense may require helping others as they oppose the Shadow in their own homes."
"The Woodland Realm is the greatest and oldest kingdom in Rhovanion," says Galadhon. "Yet mighty are the deeds of Men and Dwarves, to say nothing of wizards. If you would have my counsel, Lord, it is that the Younger Races need your counsel. They have energy and might, but not your long vision or experience. They have not lived through ages of the world. Great though your realm may be, your true strength, it is said, lies in your wisdom and experience. It is this I would urge you to share at the Council called by Radagast."
Thranduil purses his lips, considering, then he speaks again.
"It is said that my true strength is in my wisdom, and indeed, the Woodland Realm has lasted long through our might and cunning. Betimes, this cunning has guided me to withdraw and close my borders, focusing on the security of my people rather than the toils of the outside world. Tell me, of what concern is it to me or my realm that Orcs trouble the Woodmen?"
Ayluin frowns, composing his thoughts before speaking.
"Many might say that it is the duty of all who would live freely in this good world to aid our fellows against the Shadow, be they Men, Elves or Dwarves. Not all of those might truly reckon the depth of such counsel, for as one of a shattered, hidden people, I can say more surely than most; standing against the Shadow comes at a price.
And yet.
Offer me storied Numenor, risen from the depths and shining brightly, the seat of the authority of the Lords of Men. But to have this, my people restored and unblemished, the Enemy would never have been taken in the days of old and been free to work his evils on Middle-Earth with only the Eldar to oppose him...and I would say thee nay, if for no other reason than the certainty that once he had mastered all other foes, his terrible gaze would fall upon Numenor.
Even if altruism moves not your heart, my lord, you have far greater experience than I with the Enemy; surely 'tis reason to see that he would not let so great a foe as yourself reside unmolested for ever."
The young elf looks distinctly uncomfortable. "The training you have provided for me about the opponent suggests that any who are left for the Shadow to claim will be turned against those who still stand in opposition. If we do not help our neighbors defend themselves, then our neighbors are likely to be turned against us. That makes the risk of doing nothing greater than the risk of helping, right?"
Aeddan keeps silent unsure of what to make of the elf kings comments.
"You are mighty, Lord, but the mightiest warrior cannot stand alone against an army. The shadow in the south grows strong. Dragons and trolls return to the world. The Easterlings grow powerful. Perhaps you would outlast all other realms, but that would be cold comfort when the Necromancer crosses the river or the hordes of the east sweep into your woods at last. If the Battle of Five Armies taught any lesson at all, it was this: that in these latter days the Free Peoples must stand together or fall separately."
Thranduil says nothing for a moment, but drains his cup of wine in a long, practiced swallow. He stands, and you see in his countenance a glimpse of the mighty spirit that burns within; here is one of the Firstborn that has lived through ages of the World and stood against the Enemy, and the fire of his spirit is yet undimmed.
Thranduil turns to the aide that brought him his cup.
"Saddle my horse! I'll bring my personal guard and ride to Rhosgobel myself and confer with the Wizard."
Thranduil turns to you, and you see in his bearing some that some judgment has been made.
"Old Radagast is cunning. He knew just what group might sway me. You have done well, attending this errand for the Istari. I offer you the hospitality of my halls; you may take your rest and be refreshed. On the morrow, you will ride with us to Rhosgobel. You are too great a part of this stand aside now!"
It is quite clear that the Elvenking is not asking. After this, however, you are treated as honored guests; you are given fresh clothing while what you have is laundered. Warm baths are drawn for you, and you are provided a fine meal of venison and berries and root vegetables. Elven-wine is shared.
Though they are a secret, sometimes insular people, you see some of the glory and power of the oldest Kingdom of Middle-earth. You believe that, though it will not be easy, perhaps through your craft Thranduil could become a more regular ally to the Free Folk. Feeling this, and enjoying the hospitality of the Woodland Realm, your spirits are lifted.
All companions may lose two points of Fatigue from travel, if any, and regain one point of Hope, as you listen to strains of Elvensong that even you, Galadhon, have never heard. Here is but an echo of the strength of the Eldar in the days of old...but to know that even an echo still sounds does much to give you courage.
The next day, your garments are brought to you, clean and fresh. You are given horses for the journey, that you may keep up with the Elves. The journey is swift and easy; the Elves act as guides and huntsmen and the like. If you wish to aid, you are welcome to, but there are enough Elves that every check is automatically successful.
In less than half the time it took you to make the journey to Mirkwood, you return to Rhosgobel. Radagast stands in front of his dwelling, bowing and welcoming the Elvenking quite kindly. Thranduil gestures to your group, then instructs his guards to wait outside.
Upon going inside, Radagast and Thranduil talk, asking you for input or more information as appropriate. Since you have been gone, Radagast's animal companions have done some spying for him; it appears that a large group of Orcs are gathering, and are planning to attack Woodland Hall. For so many disparate groups of Orcs to come together, they must be driven by some dark power that has yet to reveal itself. There is no time for further speech or delay; action must be taken now or the Woodmen may fall to darkness.
Radagast's plan is simple; gather all able-bodied Woodmen, then make for Woodland Hall and set up a defense.
Thranduil agrees to lend his aid.
Your party sets out at once, heading North. The Woodmen-town is on the way, so you stop there, gathering volunteers and sending out scouts to patrol and warn outlying farms. You send messengers ahead of your party to forewarn the others.
Eventually, you arrive at Woodland Hall.
Bregdan, your ally, is waiting there, along with other chiefs of the Woodmen. They have been awaiting your arrival, and are ready to proceed with a council of war.
If any of you wish to participate, you may, or you may leave it to the others. What would you like to do?
Ayluin absolutely wishes to participate.
FAR too big an event to skip!
Honored to be invited to the council Aeddan finds a seat.
The war council begins. Radagast and Thranduil sit in silent contemplation as the situation is explained. Woodland Hall is, itself, quite defensible. The area in general is protected by a tall hedge and a stout stockade. The actual building is located atop a hillock, three sides of wish have been made sheer by the work of Men. The true difficulty they will face, they think, lies in defending some of the outlying areas. The easiest way into the Woodland Hall is through a gate, one defended by a palisade. The Orcs are likely to attack there. They will surely attack at night.
What is your input to this war council?
Ayluin thinks while the leaders of the Woodmen converse, and when there is a break in the conversation, he chimes in.
"Skilled in woodcraft and all manner of hunting and trapping are the Woodmen of the Wilderland. To you, this is my counsel; if there is time enough for such cunning craft, set your people to quickly clear away some of the ground in front of the palisades. It need not be overly deep, perhaps three feet or so, but it should be wide, wide enough for three men abreast at the least. Fill that area with sharpened stakes and then conceal your work. Leave a wide enough path for men to stand together and fight on it, that we may hold the gate.
I say also that any excess hay or other flammable material should be gathered. Orcs and Goblins do not walk abroad in the day, and indeed they fear and flee from the light. Let us ring our battleground with such implements, and once we draw our foe into combat, set them alight with flaming arrows to bewilder and terrify them. My own horn shall sound the volley, and they shall know fear! With such cunning traps, surely the advantage will be ours!"
As Ayluin's words are absorbed, Caunlaigdir adds to them. "He speaks true, but you will need extra labor to get the work done quickly enough. Given that the outer villages and farms are poorly defensible, you should gather those men here, bringing what supplies they can carry." He looks uncomfortable and glances around the table. "The enemy fears fire, but they respect it as a weapon. Fire could destroy the hedge while forcing people out of the fortification. Some of your extra manpower should go to firefighting details, in order to stay a step ahead should they choose that tactic. This will dangerously overflow your fortifications, I fear. One way to reduce that overcrowding is to take a force of volunteers to hide in the countryside, returning to attack the enemy's flank after they engage the assault. Such a group will face a great number of losses, but if they avoid early discovery they will simplify your main defense effort. Great risk for a small chance of great benefit."