This is another solo adventure that I put together for Rolf, our Barding Leader, who could not attend one our regular sessions. Since we complete one full adventure per session, I did not want him to fall too far behind the other players. Plus, this was also a great opportunity to explore some of his personal narrative outside of the primary story line. All in all, it was a lot a fun and expanded on several aspects of various story lines that were set in motion over the past several adventures and Fellowship Phases.
Bard's Wedding - Rolf's Tale (Spring 2949)
Bard are Una wed in March of 2949. Rolf and his family attend the wedding and celebrate with the rest of the city afterwards. Unfortunately, the Blackwrists use the crowded city and the presence of so many nobles as cover to kidnap Hannah, Rolf’s future bride, and demand a ransom. As her future husband, Ulf, Rolf’s father, insists that Rolf be sent to negotiate with the kidnappers and secure her release.
Following the kidnapper’s instructions, Rolf wanders the streets of Brokenstone through the pre-dawn hours until he is approached by two thugs who escort him to a rundown home in the back alleys of the district. He pays the ransom to a masked Blackwrist lieutenant. During their negotiations, he recognizes that man’s voice as that of Sigdan, a young courtier who had introduced himself earlier at Bard’s wedding. Realizing that revealing this now would be risky, Rolf chose to say nothing and paid the ransom. As he left with the ransom, Sigdan left Rolf with directions to a home in the Old Quarter where he could find Hannah.
Things take a turn for the strange when Rolf goes to retrieve Hannah and finds her in an ancient barrow hidden below the basement of the abandoned home, chained to the stone sarcophagus of Bávlos, the spectre of an ancient culture that lived in the Dalelands thousands of years ago. Bávlos has unjustly suffered in undeath for an age and beseeches Rolf to end his miserable existence with a blade of his own design that lies within his sealed sarcophagus. Despite suffering from the spectre’s withering presence, Rolf manages to secure the Blade of Bávlos by removing the lid from his tomb and then releases the spectre from his suffering in the mortal realm. The spectre’s death releases Hannah’s chains and Rolf rushes her to the Houses of Healing. Though severely weakened, Hannah lives; however, she is forever changed by the ordeal.
Rolf’s Tale: The night before Bard’s wedding, Rolf shares the tales of his adventures with Gloin and several important business men over dinner at the Missing Scale. During the dinner, a confrontation between the drunken men and some Elves of Mirkwood begins over the recent disappearance of several Bardings who were harvesting wood in the forest. Rolf intervenes to resolve the situation and manages to avoid a brawl, though the spirit of the evening is ruined. Later, during his rescue of Hannah from the Blackwrists, Rolf recognizes the orchestrator of the kidnapping as Sigdan, a young Barding courtier. He says nothing of his discovery at the time, rescues Hannah, and secures the Blade of Bávlos. Rolf and his father return to Strandburg with a sickly Hannah to discuss what to do with their knowledge of Sigdan’s crimes.
Earns two Treasure for his Holding and sees its rating improved by one (Holding 7) due to a mild winter allowing reconstruction to continue uninterrupted.
Blade of Bávlos (Númenórean): Thousands of years ago, Bávlos the Tormentor was the chieftain of an ancient civilization whose people once occupied the lands that are now known as the Dalelands. He was a righteous pursuer of justice, tormentor of evil-men and dedicated his life to hunting down those who were the enemies of peaceful men. Such was his obsession, that upon his death, his spirit would not rest, and he returned as a spectre to haunt his barrow. As Sauron rose in power, he further cursed Bávlos with a withering presence that would kill friend and foe alike.
The Blade of Bávlos is a fierce looking long sword with few ornamentations, but its blade is exquisitely wrought. The folds of the steel shimmer with an unearthly gleam that glimmers when drawn and is said to have emboldened all those who saw it to redouble their efforts when confronted with a terrifying foe.
Blade of Bávlos (Númenórean): Bane: Evil Men & Undead; 1. Keen, 2. Raging, 3. Flame of Hope
Given to Rolf by Bávlos in exchange for agreeing to end his miserable spectral existence.
Hope Against the Shadow-A Tale of Years
Re: Hope Against the Shadow-A Tale of Years
This is a fairly short write-up for what was a rather lengthy and engaging adventure. It focused primarily on advancing the personal quest for Calithilon, our Elf. Many sessions ago he was tasked by Irimë with finding a wandering Elf named Ellaras who had suffered a great trauma centuries ago and was now searching the lands north of the forest for an unknown reason. Much of his quest and the reasoning behind it still lie shrouded in mystery, but with this adventure, it is slowly beginning to unfold.
The players had a great time and so did I. Polin and Pomin were a blast to play and confounded the players with their antics. I changed up the rules for hunting the white deer by randomizing much of it with charts to determine what type of deer they came across, etc.... However, their dice were on fire this session and they owned everything they attempted. They quickly tracked and found the a great white stag, killing it on the first try. Their battle with the mountain troll was quick and brutal, with the troll rolling terrible Protection rolls while they Wounded it quickly. What was meant to be a great challenge, ended quickly for the poor troll. Of well, such is role-playing.
The Hunt (Summer 2949)
Our fellowship gathers outside of the Halls of Thranduil to participate in the hunt for a rare white deer of Mirkwood. The festivities leading up to the hunt see our fellowship meeting representatives from a variety of cultures and participating in a variety of social activities, with Hergar winning the drunken pint race around the Hobbit’s beer tent. The hunt went spectacularly, with our heroes even besting Ruithel, a mighty Elven huntress, to slay a mighty white stag. Their kill was celebrated throughout the evening, as our heroes were lauded for their prowess and good fortune. However, Ruithel did not return and, at Thranduil’s request, the fellowship went to search for her in the early hours of the following day.
Their hunt led them to encounter two half-mad Grey Dwarves, Polin and Pomin, who had kidnapped Ruithel to deliver to Frár the Beardless. They recognized her bow, Penbregol, as the bow owned by the elf who shaved Frár’s beard. Though Ruithel was not the one who shamed Frár, he still cut her hair and removed the mithril string from her bow as recompense for his humiliation before sending her back out into the wild. Having sought Frár for years, Calithilon uses the opportunity to ask for Frár’s help in finding Ellaras, the Elf whom Irimë had told him to find all those years ago. He agrees to take Calithilon to Ellaras after demanding he vow to help retake the Greydelve when called the day comes. Calithilon agrees and Frár takes the fellowship to a remote cave in the Grey Mountain Narrows where Ellaras has been known to winter. Unfortunately, they find the cave occupied by a mighty mountain troll. Fearing Ellaras could be dead, they slay the troll and search his cave only to find Ellaras arrive shortly afterwards, returning from a long journey.
Ellaras explains that his long absence has been in search of clues that will lead him to find the object that he has quested for these past several hundred years. He produces an ancient Dwarven map and casting stone that is said to find one’s heart’s desire. He plans to use it to find the object of his quest these past centuries. The casting stone reveals that his quest lies within the Greydelve, uniting his cause with Frár’s, his nemesis. Together, the fellowship returns with Ellaras to the Halls of Thranduil to discuss all that has transpired.
Alaric’s Tale: Despite all odds, Alaric strikes up a conversation with an elf maiden named Ashryn at the feast after their successful hunt and wins her affections. Alaric attempts to escort Ruithel home after Frár cut her hair, but she instead joins the Wayward Elves, disappearing into the northern woods. He places the remains of her bow in the woods should she wish to return for it one day. Received 15 Treasure and found a magnificent adamant ring worth 30 Treasure.
Calithilon’s Tale: In an act of remarkable skill, Calithilon with the help of Alaric and Hergar, track and kill a mighty white stag. They win the accolades of their peers. Calithilon receives a permanent +1 Standing increase. Later he meets Frár the Beardless who takes him to meet Ellaras after Calithilon vows to do all he can to help retake the Greydelve. Calithilon meets Ellaras and returns with him to King Thranduil. He also stole the Mithril String of Penbregol back from Frár and won the elven archery competition at the feast, besting Ruithel. Finally, Calithilon found a golden torc in the mountain troll’s cave that gives a Blessing to Song to go along with his 15 Treasure.
Hergar’s Tale: Won the drinking competition in the Brandybuck beer tent. He received a keg of Shire Stout that he opted to keep at the Easterly Inn. Received 15 Treasure.
Rolf’s Tale: Did not participate in this tale, though his fellowship opted to give him a share of their treasure from the mountain troll’s lair, 15 Treasure.
The players had a great time and so did I. Polin and Pomin were a blast to play and confounded the players with their antics. I changed up the rules for hunting the white deer by randomizing much of it with charts to determine what type of deer they came across, etc.... However, their dice were on fire this session and they owned everything they attempted. They quickly tracked and found the a great white stag, killing it on the first try. Their battle with the mountain troll was quick and brutal, with the troll rolling terrible Protection rolls while they Wounded it quickly. What was meant to be a great challenge, ended quickly for the poor troll. Of well, such is role-playing.
The Hunt (Summer 2949)
Our fellowship gathers outside of the Halls of Thranduil to participate in the hunt for a rare white deer of Mirkwood. The festivities leading up to the hunt see our fellowship meeting representatives from a variety of cultures and participating in a variety of social activities, with Hergar winning the drunken pint race around the Hobbit’s beer tent. The hunt went spectacularly, with our heroes even besting Ruithel, a mighty Elven huntress, to slay a mighty white stag. Their kill was celebrated throughout the evening, as our heroes were lauded for their prowess and good fortune. However, Ruithel did not return and, at Thranduil’s request, the fellowship went to search for her in the early hours of the following day.
Their hunt led them to encounter two half-mad Grey Dwarves, Polin and Pomin, who had kidnapped Ruithel to deliver to Frár the Beardless. They recognized her bow, Penbregol, as the bow owned by the elf who shaved Frár’s beard. Though Ruithel was not the one who shamed Frár, he still cut her hair and removed the mithril string from her bow as recompense for his humiliation before sending her back out into the wild. Having sought Frár for years, Calithilon uses the opportunity to ask for Frár’s help in finding Ellaras, the Elf whom Irimë had told him to find all those years ago. He agrees to take Calithilon to Ellaras after demanding he vow to help retake the Greydelve when called the day comes. Calithilon agrees and Frár takes the fellowship to a remote cave in the Grey Mountain Narrows where Ellaras has been known to winter. Unfortunately, they find the cave occupied by a mighty mountain troll. Fearing Ellaras could be dead, they slay the troll and search his cave only to find Ellaras arrive shortly afterwards, returning from a long journey.
Ellaras explains that his long absence has been in search of clues that will lead him to find the object that he has quested for these past several hundred years. He produces an ancient Dwarven map and casting stone that is said to find one’s heart’s desire. He plans to use it to find the object of his quest these past centuries. The casting stone reveals that his quest lies within the Greydelve, uniting his cause with Frár’s, his nemesis. Together, the fellowship returns with Ellaras to the Halls of Thranduil to discuss all that has transpired.
Alaric’s Tale: Despite all odds, Alaric strikes up a conversation with an elf maiden named Ashryn at the feast after their successful hunt and wins her affections. Alaric attempts to escort Ruithel home after Frár cut her hair, but she instead joins the Wayward Elves, disappearing into the northern woods. He places the remains of her bow in the woods should she wish to return for it one day. Received 15 Treasure and found a magnificent adamant ring worth 30 Treasure.
Calithilon’s Tale: In an act of remarkable skill, Calithilon with the help of Alaric and Hergar, track and kill a mighty white stag. They win the accolades of their peers. Calithilon receives a permanent +1 Standing increase. Later he meets Frár the Beardless who takes him to meet Ellaras after Calithilon vows to do all he can to help retake the Greydelve. Calithilon meets Ellaras and returns with him to King Thranduil. He also stole the Mithril String of Penbregol back from Frár and won the elven archery competition at the feast, besting Ruithel. Finally, Calithilon found a golden torc in the mountain troll’s cave that gives a Blessing to Song to go along with his 15 Treasure.
Hergar’s Tale: Won the drinking competition in the Brandybuck beer tent. He received a keg of Shire Stout that he opted to keep at the Easterly Inn. Received 15 Treasure.
Rolf’s Tale: Did not participate in this tale, though his fellowship opted to give him a share of their treasure from the mountain troll’s lair, 15 Treasure.
Re: Hope Against the Shadow-A Tale of Years
With this adventure I decided to continue the adventures from Tales from Wilderland with the intention of finishing that book in the next few months before we continue on through the Darkening of Mirkwood. It was a fun adventure that further solidified the companions relationship to the Brandybucks, but there was little in the way of surprises. They pretty handily annihilated the goblins at the ring-fort before chasing the gobins into the mountain in pursuit of the kidnapped Dindy.
Of Leaves and Hobbit Stew (Spring 2950)
With unfinished business on the western eaves of Mirkwood, the fellowship departed the Dalelands in early spring to make the journey back to Rhosgobel. As has become customary, they stopped to enjoy some good food and visit their old friends, the Brandybucks, at the Easterly Inn. Sadly, their visit was cut short when Dody informed them that his brother’s caravan had yet to return from their trip to the Shire and he feared for Dindy’s safety. Rumors had begun to circulate that goblins were returning to the High Pass in greater numbers and the fellowship felt it best to search for Dindy and his missing caravan just in case they had run into a bit of trouble.
Their fears were well-founded. When they finally came upon the caravan atop an old ring-fort, Dindy and his guards were under siege from encroaching goblins. Through flame and steel the goblin’s attack was thwarted, but not before Dindy was kidnapped by some goblins who had snuck over the embankment undetected. The companions chased the goblins deep into their caves under the Misty Mountains only to find Dindy chained to a stove, cooking supper for a goblin feast. By souring the stew and picking off the goblins a few at a time, the fellowship managed to slay the goblin chief on his ‘throne’, secure the key to Dindy’s chains, and escape back to the Easterly Inn.
At the feast to honor the fellowship’s achievement and Dindy’s safe return, Radagast suddenly arrived, a broad smile grew across his face at finding the companions at the Hobbit’s inn.
Alaric’s Tale: Before leaving to travel west, Alaric gifts his ancient adamant ring to Ashryn as a token of his affections and as a promise of his safe return. She graciously accepts the gift, her departing smile filling Alaric’s heart with a strong desire to see her as soon as he may. At the goblin feast, Alaric used the herbs usually reserved for healing to upset the goblins’ digestion. Many goblins left the feast early that night to see to their upset stomachs, the goblin chief included. Gained 2 rather filthy Treasure, a pouch of Longbottom Leaf pipe-weed, and a Dwarven mirror.
Calithilon’s Tale: Calithilon spends the year prior to departing the Dalelands establishing a small horse farm near the forest’s edge south of Strandburg. He also meets with the Elven King to discuss all he has learned alongside Ellaras and to give the details of his encounter with Frár the Beardless. Though always skilled in the burgling arts, Calithilon has had little chance to show his skill until he crept his way undetected through the goblins’ home, spying for his companions and ambushing the goblin chief. Gained 2 Treasure and a pouch of Longbottom Leaf pipe-weed.
Hergar’s Tale: Prior to traveling west to the Easterly Inn, Hergar busied himself reinforcing and improving his Holding in the Northern Dalelands. He also had an unexpected guest. Beorn, who had been nearby meeting with Thranduil, dropped in to discuss Hergar’s spirit quest and to reaffirm their bonds of brotherhood. While enjoying the company of the Hobbits, Agatha Brandybuck informs Hergar that a man much like himself, except for having a lame right arm, had come to the inn last season looking for him. The strange man, Koli, made it known that at each full moon he would wait for Hergar at the Kingstone to settle their unfinished business. Gained 2 Treasure and a pouch of Longbottom Leaf pipe-weed.
Rolf’s Tale: With his Holding reestablished after the Blackwrists burned it down last year, Rolf seeks the wisdom of a Loremaster from Dale in the hopes of learning more about the ancient blade he discovered in the barrow beneath Dale. He learns that thousands of years ago, Bávlos the Tormentor was the chieftain of an ancient civilization whose people once occupied the lands that are now known as the Dalelands. He was a righteous pursuer of justice and dedicated his life to hunting down those who were the enemies of peaceful men. Such was his obsession, that upon his death, his spirit could not rest, and he returned as a spectre to haunt his barrow. As Sauron rose in power, he further cursed Bávlos with a withering presence that would kill friend and foe alike.
The Blade of Bávlos is a fierce looking long sword with few ornamentations, but its blade is exquisitely wrought. The folds of the steel shimmer with an unearthly light that glimmers when drawn and is said to have emboldened all those who saw it to redouble their efforts when confronted with overwhelming odds.
Blade of Bávlos (Númenórean): Bane: Evil Men & Undead; 1. Keen, 2. Raging, 3. Flame of Hope
With the Sword of Bávlos in hand, Rolf found his full measure and slew many goblins. Those goblins who saw the sword cut down their comrades will not soon forget its quality. Gained 2 Treasure and a pouch of Longbottom Leaf pipe-weed.
Of Leaves and Hobbit Stew (Spring 2950)
With unfinished business on the western eaves of Mirkwood, the fellowship departed the Dalelands in early spring to make the journey back to Rhosgobel. As has become customary, they stopped to enjoy some good food and visit their old friends, the Brandybucks, at the Easterly Inn. Sadly, their visit was cut short when Dody informed them that his brother’s caravan had yet to return from their trip to the Shire and he feared for Dindy’s safety. Rumors had begun to circulate that goblins were returning to the High Pass in greater numbers and the fellowship felt it best to search for Dindy and his missing caravan just in case they had run into a bit of trouble.
Their fears were well-founded. When they finally came upon the caravan atop an old ring-fort, Dindy and his guards were under siege from encroaching goblins. Through flame and steel the goblin’s attack was thwarted, but not before Dindy was kidnapped by some goblins who had snuck over the embankment undetected. The companions chased the goblins deep into their caves under the Misty Mountains only to find Dindy chained to a stove, cooking supper for a goblin feast. By souring the stew and picking off the goblins a few at a time, the fellowship managed to slay the goblin chief on his ‘throne’, secure the key to Dindy’s chains, and escape back to the Easterly Inn.
At the feast to honor the fellowship’s achievement and Dindy’s safe return, Radagast suddenly arrived, a broad smile grew across his face at finding the companions at the Hobbit’s inn.
Alaric’s Tale: Before leaving to travel west, Alaric gifts his ancient adamant ring to Ashryn as a token of his affections and as a promise of his safe return. She graciously accepts the gift, her departing smile filling Alaric’s heart with a strong desire to see her as soon as he may. At the goblin feast, Alaric used the herbs usually reserved for healing to upset the goblins’ digestion. Many goblins left the feast early that night to see to their upset stomachs, the goblin chief included. Gained 2 rather filthy Treasure, a pouch of Longbottom Leaf pipe-weed, and a Dwarven mirror.
Calithilon’s Tale: Calithilon spends the year prior to departing the Dalelands establishing a small horse farm near the forest’s edge south of Strandburg. He also meets with the Elven King to discuss all he has learned alongside Ellaras and to give the details of his encounter with Frár the Beardless. Though always skilled in the burgling arts, Calithilon has had little chance to show his skill until he crept his way undetected through the goblins’ home, spying for his companions and ambushing the goblin chief. Gained 2 Treasure and a pouch of Longbottom Leaf pipe-weed.
Hergar’s Tale: Prior to traveling west to the Easterly Inn, Hergar busied himself reinforcing and improving his Holding in the Northern Dalelands. He also had an unexpected guest. Beorn, who had been nearby meeting with Thranduil, dropped in to discuss Hergar’s spirit quest and to reaffirm their bonds of brotherhood. While enjoying the company of the Hobbits, Agatha Brandybuck informs Hergar that a man much like himself, except for having a lame right arm, had come to the inn last season looking for him. The strange man, Koli, made it known that at each full moon he would wait for Hergar at the Kingstone to settle their unfinished business. Gained 2 Treasure and a pouch of Longbottom Leaf pipe-weed.
Rolf’s Tale: With his Holding reestablished after the Blackwrists burned it down last year, Rolf seeks the wisdom of a Loremaster from Dale in the hopes of learning more about the ancient blade he discovered in the barrow beneath Dale. He learns that thousands of years ago, Bávlos the Tormentor was the chieftain of an ancient civilization whose people once occupied the lands that are now known as the Dalelands. He was a righteous pursuer of justice and dedicated his life to hunting down those who were the enemies of peaceful men. Such was his obsession, that upon his death, his spirit could not rest, and he returned as a spectre to haunt his barrow. As Sauron rose in power, he further cursed Bávlos with a withering presence that would kill friend and foe alike.
The Blade of Bávlos is a fierce looking long sword with few ornamentations, but its blade is exquisitely wrought. The folds of the steel shimmer with an unearthly light that glimmers when drawn and is said to have emboldened all those who saw it to redouble their efforts when confronted with overwhelming odds.
Blade of Bávlos (Númenórean): Bane: Evil Men & Undead; 1. Keen, 2. Raging, 3. Flame of Hope
With the Sword of Bávlos in hand, Rolf found his full measure and slew many goblins. Those goblins who saw the sword cut down their comrades will not soon forget its quality. Gained 2 Treasure and a pouch of Longbottom Leaf pipe-weed.
Re: Hope Against the Shadow-A Tale of Years
This adventure was one of those cases where great pains were taken to include a lot of cool encounters for the players only to have them bypass most of it and go straight to the heart of the adventure. To paraphrase a familiar saying, "No adventure survives contact with the players". The net effect was that the adventure was considerably shorter than it was originally intended to be, but we all still had a good time. And that is what is most important anyway.
Our Elf, Calithilon could not participate in this adventure so a solo side quest was prepared for his character to undertake during the same time period. Since there will be a large time gap after this adventure and before The Crossings of Celduin, I also did a short solo adventure for our Woodmen, Alaric. He was the only remaining player who had not had a solo quest and this time gap provided an excellent opportunity for it. Both of those adventure will be detailed after this one.
A Darkness in the Marshes (Summer 2950)
At the insistence of Radagast, the fellowship left the Easterly Inn the very next morning and much to the disappointment of the Brandybuck’s, to make their way south to Mountain Hall. Radagast had grown concerned at the evil tidings coming from the lands west of the Great River and he wanted the companions to investigate to see what may be rallying those loyal to the Shadow to these lands. Borrowing a boat from a group of Beorning fishermen, the company traveled south, beyond the Old Ford, to the village of Stonyford. While recuperating their strength from the journey, they were approached by Ash, the elven leader of Dol Guldur’s former slaves. She had grown concerned because many of her people, hunters and trappers mostly, had gone missing over the past several months during their excursions into the swamps to the south. The fellowship shared her concerns and decided that a trip to Mountain Hall was now unwarranted, particularly after hearing the local rumors of the evils of the Dwimmerhorn in the Gladden Fields.
The next morning, the companions took a boat across the river and turned south in the hopes of discovering what evils may still be lurking in the Gladden Fields. Their careful search revealed several clues that something was indeed happening in the swamp; but, they had begun to lose hope of ever finding the fabled Dwimmerhorn until they had a chance encounter with Walar, an escaped slave, and his orc pursuers. The fellowship quickly dispatched his captives and learned from Walar that they were very close to the Dwimmerhorn and that there was a secret way to gain entry to it, if they were so foolish.
The old goat path that Walar had described was more challenging than they had initially assumed it would be, but the companions eventually made it over the low curtain wall at the top and into the Dwimmerhorn. They were horrified to discover the size of the forces occupying the old keep and the number of slaves they held, but there was little they could do against such a vast host. Regardless, they were determined to learn the deeper mysteries of the fortress. Only Hergar was skilled enough to sneak into the black-stoned temple, and he did so alone. What he witnessed there were worse than his greatest fears. A mighty orc, bearing the symbol of a red eye on his helm, consorted with a human whose face was hidden in shadow. Between them lay a withered corpse whose eyes glowed with an unearthly light that gave it a horrible, new voice. Together, they conspired to use a malevolent ancient chain to some evil end. Before he could hear more, Hergar was discovered. A black shadow rose out of the corpse to confront him and he was grieved to realize that it was the very same shadow that had plagued the fellowship and Lady Irimë during their journey to the High Pass years ago. Their presence reveal, the fellowship was forced to flee across the swamps and back to Rhosgobel, an orc hoard close on their heels.
Thankfully, the orcs were unwilling to assail Rhosgobel, but the news they brought Radagast disturbed him greatly and he immediately went in search of more answers. When he returned weeks later, they learned that he had found the Dwimmerhorn emptied and its army was nowhere to be found. Not knowing what the evil spirit was or where the army may have gone caused Radagast a great deal of consternation. At last he settled that the fellowship’s next course of action should be to find Gandalf at next year’s celebrations in Dale. He would know what to do.
Alaric’s Tale: Ever adept at navigating through unfamiliar terrain, Alaric made guiding the fellowship through the swamps of the Gladden Fields look effortless. Together, his dog Odo an he, slew many orcs in the swamp.
Calithilon’s Tale: Calithilon did not participate in this tale, though he may be curious to know more of Ash’s history. An elf as ancient as she may know many things that he would find beneficial. Calithilon spent this time searching for the Steed of the Moon in the Vales of Gundabad (see Breaking the Moon).
Hergar’s Tale: Stepping to the forefront of each battle, Hergar slew many enemies, but was severely wounded by the combined attacks of the black Uruks and other orcs. However, he weathered each battle and, later, managed to sneak, alone, into the black temple to witness firsthand the horrors that are allying against them.
Rolf’s Tale: In no small part it was Rolf’s inspiration that allowed Hergar to stay on his feet as long as he did. With the Sword of Bávlos in hand he spurred his companions to victory; however, he met his limitations when the time came to climb the goat path into the Dwimmerhorn and move stealthily through the keep.
Our Elf, Calithilon could not participate in this adventure so a solo side quest was prepared for his character to undertake during the same time period. Since there will be a large time gap after this adventure and before The Crossings of Celduin, I also did a short solo adventure for our Woodmen, Alaric. He was the only remaining player who had not had a solo quest and this time gap provided an excellent opportunity for it. Both of those adventure will be detailed after this one.
A Darkness in the Marshes (Summer 2950)
At the insistence of Radagast, the fellowship left the Easterly Inn the very next morning and much to the disappointment of the Brandybuck’s, to make their way south to Mountain Hall. Radagast had grown concerned at the evil tidings coming from the lands west of the Great River and he wanted the companions to investigate to see what may be rallying those loyal to the Shadow to these lands. Borrowing a boat from a group of Beorning fishermen, the company traveled south, beyond the Old Ford, to the village of Stonyford. While recuperating their strength from the journey, they were approached by Ash, the elven leader of Dol Guldur’s former slaves. She had grown concerned because many of her people, hunters and trappers mostly, had gone missing over the past several months during their excursions into the swamps to the south. The fellowship shared her concerns and decided that a trip to Mountain Hall was now unwarranted, particularly after hearing the local rumors of the evils of the Dwimmerhorn in the Gladden Fields.
The next morning, the companions took a boat across the river and turned south in the hopes of discovering what evils may still be lurking in the Gladden Fields. Their careful search revealed several clues that something was indeed happening in the swamp; but, they had begun to lose hope of ever finding the fabled Dwimmerhorn until they had a chance encounter with Walar, an escaped slave, and his orc pursuers. The fellowship quickly dispatched his captives and learned from Walar that they were very close to the Dwimmerhorn and that there was a secret way to gain entry to it, if they were so foolish.
The old goat path that Walar had described was more challenging than they had initially assumed it would be, but the companions eventually made it over the low curtain wall at the top and into the Dwimmerhorn. They were horrified to discover the size of the forces occupying the old keep and the number of slaves they held, but there was little they could do against such a vast host. Regardless, they were determined to learn the deeper mysteries of the fortress. Only Hergar was skilled enough to sneak into the black-stoned temple, and he did so alone. What he witnessed there were worse than his greatest fears. A mighty orc, bearing the symbol of a red eye on his helm, consorted with a human whose face was hidden in shadow. Between them lay a withered corpse whose eyes glowed with an unearthly light that gave it a horrible, new voice. Together, they conspired to use a malevolent ancient chain to some evil end. Before he could hear more, Hergar was discovered. A black shadow rose out of the corpse to confront him and he was grieved to realize that it was the very same shadow that had plagued the fellowship and Lady Irimë during their journey to the High Pass years ago. Their presence reveal, the fellowship was forced to flee across the swamps and back to Rhosgobel, an orc hoard close on their heels.
Thankfully, the orcs were unwilling to assail Rhosgobel, but the news they brought Radagast disturbed him greatly and he immediately went in search of more answers. When he returned weeks later, they learned that he had found the Dwimmerhorn emptied and its army was nowhere to be found. Not knowing what the evil spirit was or where the army may have gone caused Radagast a great deal of consternation. At last he settled that the fellowship’s next course of action should be to find Gandalf at next year’s celebrations in Dale. He would know what to do.
Alaric’s Tale: Ever adept at navigating through unfamiliar terrain, Alaric made guiding the fellowship through the swamps of the Gladden Fields look effortless. Together, his dog Odo an he, slew many orcs in the swamp.
Calithilon’s Tale: Calithilon did not participate in this tale, though he may be curious to know more of Ash’s history. An elf as ancient as she may know many things that he would find beneficial. Calithilon spent this time searching for the Steed of the Moon in the Vales of Gundabad (see Breaking the Moon).
Hergar’s Tale: Stepping to the forefront of each battle, Hergar slew many enemies, but was severely wounded by the combined attacks of the black Uruks and other orcs. However, he weathered each battle and, later, managed to sneak, alone, into the black temple to witness firsthand the horrors that are allying against them.
Rolf’s Tale: In no small part it was Rolf’s inspiration that allowed Hergar to stay on his feet as long as he did. With the Sword of Bávlos in hand he spurred his companions to victory; however, he met his limitations when the time came to climb the goat path into the Dwimmerhorn and move stealthily through the keep.
Re: Hope Against the Shadow-A Tale of Years
With this adventure my write-ups took a more narrative turn than my previous summaries. This is due partly from the inspiration I've gotten reading other's write-ups and from wanting to include more details from each adventure. In previous campaigns I did long write-ups but I grew weary and they became more of a chore. That's why I initially opted to make the ones for this campaign shorter. But the more we play, the more I get an impulse to dive in headlong again.
So, this time I wrote a much longer story summary and I have found it much more satisfying. This is Calithilon's solo story that took place during the same time that the rest of the fellowship was undertaking The Darkness in the Marshes.
Breaking the Moon-Calithilon’s Tale (Summer 2950)
Standing outside the Easterly Inn, Calithilon watched as his fellowship disappeared into the lush meadows of the Eastern Vale. He whispered a quiet blessing over their journey as they headed south to the Gladden Fields to investigate the dark disturbances happening there. Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he picked up his bow and turned north towards the village of the Viglundings. The walk under the eaves of northern Mirkwood was a familiar one and he found his mind wandering back to his conversation with Radagast the night before.
After having tasked the rest of his fellowship with their mission in the south, Radagast had pulled Calithilon aside and set him on a different course. In his wanderings while looking for the fellowship, he had caught a glimpse of the Steed of the Moon, a mearas of legend who is known to reside in the Vale of Gundabad. Word had already come to him about Calithilon’s efforts to establish a horse farm in the Northern Dalelands and he has decided to provide him what aid he could in order to see it succeed. Radagast suggested that Calithilon track down and capture the Steed of the Moon. He gave several reasons as to why his success on this endeavor would be beneficial. First, the horse is from a powerful line of horses and would greatly increase the stock of his herd. Secondly, a supply of horses could also greatly increase the strength of the Free People if the times grow dark. And, all indications are that they will. Finally, should he choose to give the horse to Thranduil, the king will owe him for the mighty gift; and, it’s always good to have the king’s favor should you need to call on it in the future.
To find the Steed of the Moon Calithilon would have to travel into lands that few dare travel these days, the Vales of Gundabad. The land is occupied by Hill-men and their goblin allies. It is a dangerous wild-land that will require a guide if he is to navigate it successfully. To the north of the Easterly Inn, in the eaves of Northern Mirkwood lies the village of the Viglundings. There he will find a Hill-men guide of some renown, Hwalda. She is unlike many of her kin, in that she is friendly towards outsiders. Calithilon should be able to negotiate a contract with her to lead him into the Vales of Gundabad. However, Radagast warned him that the Viglundings are not as friendly as the Woodmen or even the Beornings and Calithilon should seek the permission of Viglund, their leader, before passing through their lands. At all times, he should tread carefully in both word and deed.
The conversation of two approaching Dwarves broke Calithilon’s reverie and brought him back to the present. With a grimace, he realized it was Polin and Pomin, the two mad Grey Dwarves who had kidnapped Ruithel. He considered hiding and letting them pass but decided to see how they would react to him. He was surprised when they greeted him like an old friend, big grins spreading across their twin faces upon seeing him. They invited him to camp with them for the evening, but Calithilon felt it wise to continue, so he declined their offer. As they parted ways, the twins warned him to give the village of the Viglundings a wide berth, as they are notorious slavers.
Unfortunately, that was not an option for him, so he pressed on. He arrived at the village of the Viglundings at mid-day. Outside the village palisade were the fields where slaves worked under the watchful eyes of their masters. Approaching the gates, he was stopped and questioned. It was a rare sight indeed for an Elf to show up at their gates. He asked to speak with Viglund and was escorted to the long hall.
Stooping to enter, the long hall was crowded and stifling hot. The guard introduced him to a group of men sitting around the fire, all of whom seemed to be drunk. One of the young men motioned to him to speak, so Calithilon introduced himself and made his request to pass through their lands unhindered. The young man introduced himself as Viglar, Viglund’s son, and Calithilon would need his permission since his father was away. The conversation quickly turned sour as Viglar and his goblin jester, Saviga, relentless mocked Calithilon’s every word, heedless of their importance. Despite his best efforts, the men became increasingly surly until a woman stepped from the shadows and ‘shushed’ Viglar. It was Hwalda and her word must have carried some weight since Viglar did nothing but glare at her in return. He ordered Calithilon out of the long hall and refused him permission to pass through Viglund lands.
Hwalda walked with him as he left the village and Calithilon took the opportunity to make his offer to secure her services as a guide into the Vales of Gundabad. Never one savvy in the ways of negotiating, he paid a hefty price for her aid, but she agreed to show him the ways into the Vales and to help him track his quarry.
The following morning he met her under a small copse of trees away from the village and together they made the long journey to the thinly wooded hills of the Vales of Gundabad. After speaking with her at length along their road, he came to trust her and so confided in her the true purpose of his journey, to capture the Steed of the Moon. They searched the hills and river banks for signs of the horse and finally came upon the hoof prints of many horses who had gathered near the river to drink. One set of hooves stood out from the rest and they chose to follow the herd west deeper into the Vales. Within a day they came across signs that the herd had panicked and stampeded as the prints of men and wolves appeared alongside them. The trail for the Steed of the Moon diverged from the herd and ran south at great speed. Following it into the ruins of the City of the Éothéod, they found it wounded, shot in its flank by a Hill-men arrow.
Even in its wounded state, the Steed of the Moon surpassed in beauty and stature any horse he had ever seen. Its coat glistened under the moonlight and its eyes hid a deeper intelligence. Using the gifts of his people, Calithilon quietly approached the animal and sang a soothing song, calming it down. This allowed Hwalda to get close and treat its wound. Staring deep into its eyes, Calithilon could sense its anguish at the loss of the herd and it implored him to do what he could to save it. As the elf spoke with the Steed, he could sense that they had come to an understanding.
Hwalda knew that it was her people, the Hill-men, who had pursued the herd and she agreed to help Calithilon free them. She was just as much in awe of the animal as he. Returning to where the two trails had diverged earlier, they tracked the herd several miles north until they came upon a Hill-men encampment set atop a low hill that was sparsely covered in tall spruce trees. At the base of the hill were three pens holding about ten horses each.
They watched and waited until nightfall before implementing their plan. Each corral was guarded by a single Hill-men and his wolf-companion. Coordinating their strikes, they would quickly dispatch each set of guards. Then Calithilon would speak with the horses to have them quietly and calmly move away from the hill before returning to free the next pen. There were some close calls, but luck was with them and they managed to free all thirty horses without raising the alarm of the camp.
Once out of sight, they regrouped with the Steed of the Moon and began the arduous task of driving the herd two hundred miles through the Grey Mountain Narrows and into the Northern Dalelands. The Narrows offered little in the way of food and water for so many horses and the losses were steep. Thirteen horses died from starvation or were picked off by predators before they finally saw the green fields of the Northern Dalelands.
Calithilon decided to give the Steed of the Moon to Thranduil as a gift, for which he was immensely thankful. The portion of the herd that survived significantly bolstered the value of his farm and Hwalda decided to stay the winter. Several weeks later, an envoy of three elves arrived to give Calithilon a great gift from Thranduil, the Cloak of the Moon.
After a few months in the warm sun of the Northern Dalelands, the Steed of the Moon sired a foal with a coat white like snow bearing brown spots akin to its mother. The steed carried the noble bearing of his sire and would grow to be a powerful mount one day. Calithilon named the filly Star-step. With the reputation of his farm growing and the joyous event of Star-step’s birth, Calithilon sent an open invitation to a few close friends to come and celebrate the naming of the farm, Laer Tinu or The Meadow of Stars.
Calithilon’s Tale: Due to bringing back so many horses, his Holding Rating changed from an 8 to a 6. Making the Steed of the Moon a gift to Thranduil granted him a permanent +1 increase to his Standing, but he may not call on the Steed as a personal mount. Opened Horsemanship as a trait, along with Horse-herd of the Riddermark as a Cultural Virtue should he choose to purchase it in the future. Received Cloak of the Moon (see below) as a gift from Thranduil. Fellowship Phase (Tend to Holding): rolled a ‘Gandalf’. Could not increase his Holdings value again, so it was decided that the first horse born to his farm would be a prized destrier (Warhorse), Star-step.
Cloak of the Moon: A cloak crafted at Thranduil’s request from the hide of the great white stag that Calithilon slew during The Hunt as a gift for his capturing of the Steed of the Moon. Just like the stag, the cloak exhibits a white luminescence like the moon when it is at its fullest (Blessing to Awe). If his Awe test is successful, Calithilon may spend a point of Hope to make the cloak shine bright like the sun for one round causing all those who have “Hate Sunlight” to react as if they were exposed to direct sunlight. (Note: this only mimics the sun and is not actual sunlight. So, no turning trolls into stone with it.)
So, this time I wrote a much longer story summary and I have found it much more satisfying. This is Calithilon's solo story that took place during the same time that the rest of the fellowship was undertaking The Darkness in the Marshes.
Breaking the Moon-Calithilon’s Tale (Summer 2950)
Standing outside the Easterly Inn, Calithilon watched as his fellowship disappeared into the lush meadows of the Eastern Vale. He whispered a quiet blessing over their journey as they headed south to the Gladden Fields to investigate the dark disturbances happening there. Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he picked up his bow and turned north towards the village of the Viglundings. The walk under the eaves of northern Mirkwood was a familiar one and he found his mind wandering back to his conversation with Radagast the night before.
After having tasked the rest of his fellowship with their mission in the south, Radagast had pulled Calithilon aside and set him on a different course. In his wanderings while looking for the fellowship, he had caught a glimpse of the Steed of the Moon, a mearas of legend who is known to reside in the Vale of Gundabad. Word had already come to him about Calithilon’s efforts to establish a horse farm in the Northern Dalelands and he has decided to provide him what aid he could in order to see it succeed. Radagast suggested that Calithilon track down and capture the Steed of the Moon. He gave several reasons as to why his success on this endeavor would be beneficial. First, the horse is from a powerful line of horses and would greatly increase the stock of his herd. Secondly, a supply of horses could also greatly increase the strength of the Free People if the times grow dark. And, all indications are that they will. Finally, should he choose to give the horse to Thranduil, the king will owe him for the mighty gift; and, it’s always good to have the king’s favor should you need to call on it in the future.
To find the Steed of the Moon Calithilon would have to travel into lands that few dare travel these days, the Vales of Gundabad. The land is occupied by Hill-men and their goblin allies. It is a dangerous wild-land that will require a guide if he is to navigate it successfully. To the north of the Easterly Inn, in the eaves of Northern Mirkwood lies the village of the Viglundings. There he will find a Hill-men guide of some renown, Hwalda. She is unlike many of her kin, in that she is friendly towards outsiders. Calithilon should be able to negotiate a contract with her to lead him into the Vales of Gundabad. However, Radagast warned him that the Viglundings are not as friendly as the Woodmen or even the Beornings and Calithilon should seek the permission of Viglund, their leader, before passing through their lands. At all times, he should tread carefully in both word and deed.
The conversation of two approaching Dwarves broke Calithilon’s reverie and brought him back to the present. With a grimace, he realized it was Polin and Pomin, the two mad Grey Dwarves who had kidnapped Ruithel. He considered hiding and letting them pass but decided to see how they would react to him. He was surprised when they greeted him like an old friend, big grins spreading across their twin faces upon seeing him. They invited him to camp with them for the evening, but Calithilon felt it wise to continue, so he declined their offer. As they parted ways, the twins warned him to give the village of the Viglundings a wide berth, as they are notorious slavers.
Unfortunately, that was not an option for him, so he pressed on. He arrived at the village of the Viglundings at mid-day. Outside the village palisade were the fields where slaves worked under the watchful eyes of their masters. Approaching the gates, he was stopped and questioned. It was a rare sight indeed for an Elf to show up at their gates. He asked to speak with Viglund and was escorted to the long hall.
Stooping to enter, the long hall was crowded and stifling hot. The guard introduced him to a group of men sitting around the fire, all of whom seemed to be drunk. One of the young men motioned to him to speak, so Calithilon introduced himself and made his request to pass through their lands unhindered. The young man introduced himself as Viglar, Viglund’s son, and Calithilon would need his permission since his father was away. The conversation quickly turned sour as Viglar and his goblin jester, Saviga, relentless mocked Calithilon’s every word, heedless of their importance. Despite his best efforts, the men became increasingly surly until a woman stepped from the shadows and ‘shushed’ Viglar. It was Hwalda and her word must have carried some weight since Viglar did nothing but glare at her in return. He ordered Calithilon out of the long hall and refused him permission to pass through Viglund lands.
Hwalda walked with him as he left the village and Calithilon took the opportunity to make his offer to secure her services as a guide into the Vales of Gundabad. Never one savvy in the ways of negotiating, he paid a hefty price for her aid, but she agreed to show him the ways into the Vales and to help him track his quarry.
The following morning he met her under a small copse of trees away from the village and together they made the long journey to the thinly wooded hills of the Vales of Gundabad. After speaking with her at length along their road, he came to trust her and so confided in her the true purpose of his journey, to capture the Steed of the Moon. They searched the hills and river banks for signs of the horse and finally came upon the hoof prints of many horses who had gathered near the river to drink. One set of hooves stood out from the rest and they chose to follow the herd west deeper into the Vales. Within a day they came across signs that the herd had panicked and stampeded as the prints of men and wolves appeared alongside them. The trail for the Steed of the Moon diverged from the herd and ran south at great speed. Following it into the ruins of the City of the Éothéod, they found it wounded, shot in its flank by a Hill-men arrow.
Even in its wounded state, the Steed of the Moon surpassed in beauty and stature any horse he had ever seen. Its coat glistened under the moonlight and its eyes hid a deeper intelligence. Using the gifts of his people, Calithilon quietly approached the animal and sang a soothing song, calming it down. This allowed Hwalda to get close and treat its wound. Staring deep into its eyes, Calithilon could sense its anguish at the loss of the herd and it implored him to do what he could to save it. As the elf spoke with the Steed, he could sense that they had come to an understanding.
Hwalda knew that it was her people, the Hill-men, who had pursued the herd and she agreed to help Calithilon free them. She was just as much in awe of the animal as he. Returning to where the two trails had diverged earlier, they tracked the herd several miles north until they came upon a Hill-men encampment set atop a low hill that was sparsely covered in tall spruce trees. At the base of the hill were three pens holding about ten horses each.
They watched and waited until nightfall before implementing their plan. Each corral was guarded by a single Hill-men and his wolf-companion. Coordinating their strikes, they would quickly dispatch each set of guards. Then Calithilon would speak with the horses to have them quietly and calmly move away from the hill before returning to free the next pen. There were some close calls, but luck was with them and they managed to free all thirty horses without raising the alarm of the camp.
Once out of sight, they regrouped with the Steed of the Moon and began the arduous task of driving the herd two hundred miles through the Grey Mountain Narrows and into the Northern Dalelands. The Narrows offered little in the way of food and water for so many horses and the losses were steep. Thirteen horses died from starvation or were picked off by predators before they finally saw the green fields of the Northern Dalelands.
Calithilon decided to give the Steed of the Moon to Thranduil as a gift, for which he was immensely thankful. The portion of the herd that survived significantly bolstered the value of his farm and Hwalda decided to stay the winter. Several weeks later, an envoy of three elves arrived to give Calithilon a great gift from Thranduil, the Cloak of the Moon.
After a few months in the warm sun of the Northern Dalelands, the Steed of the Moon sired a foal with a coat white like snow bearing brown spots akin to its mother. The steed carried the noble bearing of his sire and would grow to be a powerful mount one day. Calithilon named the filly Star-step. With the reputation of his farm growing and the joyous event of Star-step’s birth, Calithilon sent an open invitation to a few close friends to come and celebrate the naming of the farm, Laer Tinu or The Meadow of Stars.
Calithilon’s Tale: Due to bringing back so many horses, his Holding Rating changed from an 8 to a 6. Making the Steed of the Moon a gift to Thranduil granted him a permanent +1 increase to his Standing, but he may not call on the Steed as a personal mount. Opened Horsemanship as a trait, along with Horse-herd of the Riddermark as a Cultural Virtue should he choose to purchase it in the future. Received Cloak of the Moon (see below) as a gift from Thranduil. Fellowship Phase (Tend to Holding): rolled a ‘Gandalf’. Could not increase his Holdings value again, so it was decided that the first horse born to his farm would be a prized destrier (Warhorse), Star-step.
Cloak of the Moon: A cloak crafted at Thranduil’s request from the hide of the great white stag that Calithilon slew during The Hunt as a gift for his capturing of the Steed of the Moon. Just like the stag, the cloak exhibits a white luminescence like the moon when it is at its fullest (Blessing to Awe). If his Awe test is successful, Calithilon may spend a point of Hope to make the cloak shine bright like the sun for one round causing all those who have “Hate Sunlight” to react as if they were exposed to direct sunlight. (Note: this only mimics the sun and is not actual sunlight. So, no turning trolls into stone with it.)
Re: Hope Against the Shadow-A Tale of Years
Great story. I really like your narration.
Re: Hope Against the Shadow-A Tale of Years
With the imminent demise of our beloved forum I decided to go ahead and blow this thread up by posting all of the remaining narratives I have completed so far. Our fellowship just finish The Watch on the Heath and I hope to have that narrative written before the end.
This adventure is the last of the solo-quests and was one of my favorites. It follows the tale of Alaric and Ashryn's love as he seeks to win her heart and relieve some of the memories from her father's painful past. Plus, it also allowed to play vicariously through Toby Twofoot for awhile.
Love among the Ruins-Alaric’s Tale (Spring 2951 to Summer 2951)
After a long autumn’s day hiking along the shores of the Long-lake in search of herbs for medicines, Alaric and Ashryn stopped to enjoy a meal and watch the sun set over the still waters. As the last of the sun’s rays stretched red over the lake, she confessed that she could no longer bear seeing her father, Tolthion, remain in Middle-Earth. He had been left broken-hearted since her mother, Galadeth, died many years ago, yet he stubbornly refused to travel to the Grey Havens even though he has greatly diminished. She believed that if a small token of her mother could be returned to him, it would remind him of the joy she brought him in life, allowing him to forgive himself, release his grief, and travel to the Undying Lands. Though it was many years ago that her mother died and his journey will take him to dangerous unfamiliar lands, Alaric accepts Ashryn’s request out of his love for her.
Together, they plan the route that her mother’s company took over the Misty Mountains and into the Trollshaws where she was slain by wild beasts over a hundred years ago. Although Ashryn cannot travel with him (her long absence would certainly be noticed), she gave Alaric a token of her affection, a gift given to her by her mother before they parted, the Flask of Mirobel.
The following spring, Ashryn and Alaric said their goodbyes under the silver beeches outside of Thranduil’s Halls. He knew the path before him was to be a long and dangerous one, but his love for Ashryn was boundless. In the western reaches of Northern Mirkwood he came across something disconcerting. Signs that a large wolf pack had crossed the Elf Path and were headed south gave him pause. He knew that the Elven King’s magic should keep the path clear of such beasts, but it was evident the magic was waning.
Leaving the forest behind, he stopped briefly at the Easterly Inn, both to see the friendly faces of the Brandybucks and to regain his strength for the long road in front of him. He continued through the tall, green grasses and wildflower fields of the Anduin Vales until he crossed the Old Ford and began his ascent towards the High Pass. Knowing the ever-growing danger that the orcs had once again begun to pose in the pass, he worked hard to go unnoticed. At the top of the pass, he came across a grisly scene. A caravan of settlers from the west were ambushed and slain by goblins last winter, their bodies withered and frozen in the melting snow.
Coming down from the High Pass onto the western slopes of the Misty Mountains, Alaric followed the River Loudwater from its source down into the valley below. Walking its northern shore, he came to the Great East Road at the Fords of Bruinen and began his journey west.
The road was a welcome respite from the trials of journeying through the wild, even though the Trollshaws gave him a sense of disquiet. On the second day of his walk through the Trollshaws, he came to a portion of the road that had been blocked by trees that had fallen from the steep embankments on either side of him. Suspecting an ambush and on his guard, he was pleasantly surprised to hear the pleasant sounds of a flute being played beyond the fallen trees.
The flute belonged to a wandering hobbit, Toby Twofoot, who was on his way to see the mountains, and elves, and all the things the road could offer. They quickly became fast friends and spent that evening enjoying Toby’s fine cooking while listening to the gentle sounds of his flute. That is, until the sound of his flute attracted a nearby troll.
Thankfully, Alaric heard the troll coming, giving Toby and he time to flee into the forest. They spent the night running from the troll, looking for any narrow ravine, goat path, or tight space that would serve to slow the troll down as they worked hard to stay one step ahead of him. They took their last refuge underneath a dozen rotten, fallen trees and watched as the troll gave up his search in order to return home before sunrise.
However, their chase through the forest had not gone unnoticed. With dawn’s first light, a tall, hale man with more than a hint of grey in his beard and a dark green cloak revealed himself and offered them sanctuary in his cave in the cliffs above them. His name was Anárion, and he was responsible for protecting these lands.
Arriving at the cave, they were greeted by an elven woman, tall and strong, with long brown hair in a single braid down her back. She smiled warmly at Anárion when the companions enter, a smile that Alaric recognized as meaning more than mere friendship. When she saw the Flask of Mirobel hanging from Alaric’s belt, her welcoming demeanor suddenly changed. Her hand went to the hilt of her sword and she demanded to know where he had acquired the flask. The elf woman was Galadeth, Ashryn’s lost mother, and she was afraid for her daughter’s welfare after seeing this strange man with her family heirloom.
The same charms that Alaric had used to win Ashryn’s heart also quelled her mother’s fury. He explained to Galadeth why he had come, though no one suspected that he would find her alive. Over dinner, once again supplied by competent hands of chef Toby, she explained that she had left Tolthion, after years of living miserably under his stern ways, to travel to the Grey Havens. The company she travelled with were set upon by three trolls as they travelled the Great East Road. All in her company were slain. She would have died also if not for the timely intervention of Anárion who managed to ward off the trolls long enough for them to make their escape. As the weeks passed, Galadeth found herself falling in love with Anárion as he tended to her wounds and dutifully defended others from the ravages of the Trollshaws. Having decided to leave Middle-Earth due to her unhappiness with Tolthion, she found renewed purpose with the rangers and decided to stay and help them in their mission to defend the wild lands. No elf knew that she was alive and Anárion has faithfully kept her secret.
Galadeth explained that the token, an amber owl brooch, which would have the most significance to Tolthion was located in the Troll-hole, stolen by the three trolls when they attacked her company. Those three trolls are now dead, turned to stone a few years ago; but, a new troll, Berk, had taken over the cave. She agreed to help Alaric defeat Berk and recover the brooch if he promised to keep her secret and leave them in peace. Anárion protested the decision, calling it far too dangerous; but she persisted, and he eventually relinquished out of his love for her.
The very next day the four of them, Alaric, Galadeth, Anárion, and Toby, set out for the Troll-hole to slay Berk and to find Galadeth’s lost brooch. They successfully snuck into Berk’s cave during the day and attacked him unawares; however, even with the four of them, the battle was fierce, nearly costing Anárion his life and giving Alaric a memorable wound. It took hours of searching to locate the amber owl brooch that had become buried under the other treasure and refuse in the cave. Alaric and Toby both took a small portion of the treasure and everyone returned to the ranger’s sanctuary to recuperate.
After a week of rest, Alaric and Toby set out to return to Thranduil’s Hall. Galadeth reminded Alaric of his oath not to reveal her secret to anyone, but entrusted him with a letter addressed directly to Tolthion. The return trip was long, but his spirits were high as Toby and he shared their tales with each other and laughed on the journey home. At the Easterly Inn, Toby decided to stay and visit with the Brandybucks for a time while Alaric continued on to Thranduil’s Hall. There, he found Ashryn waiting outside for him, under the very tree where they had parted so many months before. Presenting her with the amber brooch, he declared his love for her and asked that they be married. Happily, she agreed. True to his word, he made no mention of his discovery that her mother still lived; however, in secret, he did deliver the letter to Tolthion, who upon reading it, decided to leave for the Grey Havens the following spring.
Alaric’s Tale: Received 5 Treasure from the Troll-hole. Ashryn asked that he keep the Flask of Mirobel so that he would always have a part of her with him.
Flask of Mirobel: A family heirloom passed down through Ashryn’s family over the generations. The flask was given to her by her mother, Galadeth, when she departed for the Grey Havens. It is a small leather flask that has been decorated with images of the flowers and grasses found throughout Eregion. Those who drink from it say that its waters taste like how they imagine a flower’s nectar tastes to a hummingbird. Grants a bonus Success die to Travel tests made to resist Fatigue during a journey. The flask holds only enough for one companion to use it each journey.
This adventure is the last of the solo-quests and was one of my favorites. It follows the tale of Alaric and Ashryn's love as he seeks to win her heart and relieve some of the memories from her father's painful past. Plus, it also allowed to play vicariously through Toby Twofoot for awhile.
Love among the Ruins-Alaric’s Tale (Spring 2951 to Summer 2951)
After a long autumn’s day hiking along the shores of the Long-lake in search of herbs for medicines, Alaric and Ashryn stopped to enjoy a meal and watch the sun set over the still waters. As the last of the sun’s rays stretched red over the lake, she confessed that she could no longer bear seeing her father, Tolthion, remain in Middle-Earth. He had been left broken-hearted since her mother, Galadeth, died many years ago, yet he stubbornly refused to travel to the Grey Havens even though he has greatly diminished. She believed that if a small token of her mother could be returned to him, it would remind him of the joy she brought him in life, allowing him to forgive himself, release his grief, and travel to the Undying Lands. Though it was many years ago that her mother died and his journey will take him to dangerous unfamiliar lands, Alaric accepts Ashryn’s request out of his love for her.
Together, they plan the route that her mother’s company took over the Misty Mountains and into the Trollshaws where she was slain by wild beasts over a hundred years ago. Although Ashryn cannot travel with him (her long absence would certainly be noticed), she gave Alaric a token of her affection, a gift given to her by her mother before they parted, the Flask of Mirobel.
The following spring, Ashryn and Alaric said their goodbyes under the silver beeches outside of Thranduil’s Halls. He knew the path before him was to be a long and dangerous one, but his love for Ashryn was boundless. In the western reaches of Northern Mirkwood he came across something disconcerting. Signs that a large wolf pack had crossed the Elf Path and were headed south gave him pause. He knew that the Elven King’s magic should keep the path clear of such beasts, but it was evident the magic was waning.
Leaving the forest behind, he stopped briefly at the Easterly Inn, both to see the friendly faces of the Brandybucks and to regain his strength for the long road in front of him. He continued through the tall, green grasses and wildflower fields of the Anduin Vales until he crossed the Old Ford and began his ascent towards the High Pass. Knowing the ever-growing danger that the orcs had once again begun to pose in the pass, he worked hard to go unnoticed. At the top of the pass, he came across a grisly scene. A caravan of settlers from the west were ambushed and slain by goblins last winter, their bodies withered and frozen in the melting snow.
Coming down from the High Pass onto the western slopes of the Misty Mountains, Alaric followed the River Loudwater from its source down into the valley below. Walking its northern shore, he came to the Great East Road at the Fords of Bruinen and began his journey west.
The road was a welcome respite from the trials of journeying through the wild, even though the Trollshaws gave him a sense of disquiet. On the second day of his walk through the Trollshaws, he came to a portion of the road that had been blocked by trees that had fallen from the steep embankments on either side of him. Suspecting an ambush and on his guard, he was pleasantly surprised to hear the pleasant sounds of a flute being played beyond the fallen trees.
The flute belonged to a wandering hobbit, Toby Twofoot, who was on his way to see the mountains, and elves, and all the things the road could offer. They quickly became fast friends and spent that evening enjoying Toby’s fine cooking while listening to the gentle sounds of his flute. That is, until the sound of his flute attracted a nearby troll.
Thankfully, Alaric heard the troll coming, giving Toby and he time to flee into the forest. They spent the night running from the troll, looking for any narrow ravine, goat path, or tight space that would serve to slow the troll down as they worked hard to stay one step ahead of him. They took their last refuge underneath a dozen rotten, fallen trees and watched as the troll gave up his search in order to return home before sunrise.
However, their chase through the forest had not gone unnoticed. With dawn’s first light, a tall, hale man with more than a hint of grey in his beard and a dark green cloak revealed himself and offered them sanctuary in his cave in the cliffs above them. His name was Anárion, and he was responsible for protecting these lands.
Arriving at the cave, they were greeted by an elven woman, tall and strong, with long brown hair in a single braid down her back. She smiled warmly at Anárion when the companions enter, a smile that Alaric recognized as meaning more than mere friendship. When she saw the Flask of Mirobel hanging from Alaric’s belt, her welcoming demeanor suddenly changed. Her hand went to the hilt of her sword and she demanded to know where he had acquired the flask. The elf woman was Galadeth, Ashryn’s lost mother, and she was afraid for her daughter’s welfare after seeing this strange man with her family heirloom.
The same charms that Alaric had used to win Ashryn’s heart also quelled her mother’s fury. He explained to Galadeth why he had come, though no one suspected that he would find her alive. Over dinner, once again supplied by competent hands of chef Toby, she explained that she had left Tolthion, after years of living miserably under his stern ways, to travel to the Grey Havens. The company she travelled with were set upon by three trolls as they travelled the Great East Road. All in her company were slain. She would have died also if not for the timely intervention of Anárion who managed to ward off the trolls long enough for them to make their escape. As the weeks passed, Galadeth found herself falling in love with Anárion as he tended to her wounds and dutifully defended others from the ravages of the Trollshaws. Having decided to leave Middle-Earth due to her unhappiness with Tolthion, she found renewed purpose with the rangers and decided to stay and help them in their mission to defend the wild lands. No elf knew that she was alive and Anárion has faithfully kept her secret.
Galadeth explained that the token, an amber owl brooch, which would have the most significance to Tolthion was located in the Troll-hole, stolen by the three trolls when they attacked her company. Those three trolls are now dead, turned to stone a few years ago; but, a new troll, Berk, had taken over the cave. She agreed to help Alaric defeat Berk and recover the brooch if he promised to keep her secret and leave them in peace. Anárion protested the decision, calling it far too dangerous; but she persisted, and he eventually relinquished out of his love for her.
The very next day the four of them, Alaric, Galadeth, Anárion, and Toby, set out for the Troll-hole to slay Berk and to find Galadeth’s lost brooch. They successfully snuck into Berk’s cave during the day and attacked him unawares; however, even with the four of them, the battle was fierce, nearly costing Anárion his life and giving Alaric a memorable wound. It took hours of searching to locate the amber owl brooch that had become buried under the other treasure and refuse in the cave. Alaric and Toby both took a small portion of the treasure and everyone returned to the ranger’s sanctuary to recuperate.
After a week of rest, Alaric and Toby set out to return to Thranduil’s Hall. Galadeth reminded Alaric of his oath not to reveal her secret to anyone, but entrusted him with a letter addressed directly to Tolthion. The return trip was long, but his spirits were high as Toby and he shared their tales with each other and laughed on the journey home. At the Easterly Inn, Toby decided to stay and visit with the Brandybucks for a time while Alaric continued on to Thranduil’s Hall. There, he found Ashryn waiting outside for him, under the very tree where they had parted so many months before. Presenting her with the amber brooch, he declared his love for her and asked that they be married. Happily, she agreed. True to his word, he made no mention of his discovery that her mother still lived; however, in secret, he did deliver the letter to Tolthion, who upon reading it, decided to leave for the Grey Havens the following spring.
Alaric’s Tale: Received 5 Treasure from the Troll-hole. Ashryn asked that he keep the Flask of Mirobel so that he would always have a part of her with him.
Flask of Mirobel: A family heirloom passed down through Ashryn’s family over the generations. The flask was given to her by her mother, Galadeth, when she departed for the Grey Havens. It is a small leather flask that has been decorated with images of the flowers and grasses found throughout Eregion. Those who drink from it say that its waters taste like how they imagine a flower’s nectar tastes to a hummingbird. Grants a bonus Success die to Travel tests made to resist Fatigue during a journey. The flask holds only enough for one companion to use it each journey.
Re: Hope Against the Shadow-A Tale of Years
As I've noticed from reading others' narratives of The Crossings of Celduin, this adventure makes for lengthy write-ups and mine is certainly no exception. So much great stuff happens in this adventure that it is hard to leave anything out. To that end, I am splitting it up into three parts.
Here we go...
The Crossings of Celduin (November 2951)
Part One: The Gathering of Five Armies
Having scattered throughout the Dalelands to attend to their individual Holdings, the companions came back together in Dale to enjoy the festivities that the Gathering of Five Armies brings to the city. Rolf generously provided them with accommodations at his family’s estate in the Ravensgate District. Otherwise, most of the fellowship would have found themselves camping outside the Trader’s Gate with the bulk of the revelers. After spending some time catching up over breakfast, they each struck out into the city to enjoy all the offerings that come with such a large event. Rolf spent the day with Hannah, showing her the city and engaging in a series of festival games in the hopes that he could relieve some of her melancholy that was brought on by her horrible experience in the barrow of Bávlos. His efforts were rewarded, and they enjoyed a day full of smiles and lifted spirits. Hergar spent the day with Rúna in the Market Square selling pots of honey from his apiaries. Although they made little money, they enjoyed their time together working and taking in the Market Square. Alaric and Ashryn, his Elven love, walked the streets and enjoyed the carnival atmosphere. They bought masks to wear to that evening’s ball and relished the time they had together. Calithilon spent his time walking the streets, breaking a smile when he saw two vendors fighting over their claims of each possessing the Black Arrow. His mood turned momentarily dark as he remembered how he once succumbed to its black curse before his fellowship and he returned it to Smaug’s final resting place.
As evening approached they followed the crowds to the gates of the Royal Palace to hear Bard speak at the official opening ceremony for the festival. They were not disappointment. Together with Bard was his new queen, Una, Dain, the Master of Lake-town, and a group of Elven emissaries. And most importantly, Gandalf the Grey! The wizard that Radagast had sent them to find. At the end of his speech, the night sky behind Bard exploded as Gandalf unleashed a series of fireworks that left the crowd amazed on this most joyous of nights. Once the show was over, the company prepared to spend the rest of the night celebrating at the grand ball.
The night began with a musical duel between Bombur’s Dwarven band and a group of Elven musicians. With neither able to best the other, they eventually joined together to form the most unique music that Dale had heard in a generation. Elstan, the First Captain of Dale, stopped by to express his thanks for all the fellowship has done to aid Bard and reiterated that they are considered friends among those in the city’s court. They tolerated the boastings of Gerold the Beorning as he loudly proclaimed himself the victor in tomorrow’s games. Calithilon approached Galia, an Elven archer of some renown, who was drinking alone. They paid their mutual respects to each other and, as they parted, she told him that it would be her honor to challenge him in tomorrow’s Archery competition.
Midway through the night’s activities, Alaric spied the tip of a pointed, grey hat making its way through the crowd like a shark’s fin. Nudging his companions, they pushed their way through the crowd and introduced themselves to Gandalf the Grey. Though he made it plain that he had many matters to attend to, he agreed to stop and listen to their petition, mostly because Radagast had urged him to do so. He listened as, one-by-one, the companions described their first encounter with the dark spirit in the hills of the Misty Mountains when they were escorting Irimë west. Hergar next detailed his encounter with the spirit in the temple atop the Dwimmerhorn, recalling the conversation between the black Uruk, evil man, and dark spirit as best he could. Gandalf listened thoughtfully and then told them what he knew. The evil spirit was the Gibbet King, an ancient evil who he had encountered once before in the dungeons of Dol Guldur, and a former servant of the Necromancer. Though he does not know the Gibbet King’s plans, it is certain that he has set his schemes into motion and that the fellowship can only hope to be prepared when he reveals himself again. With that, Gandalf wished them the best of luck and disappeared into the crowd.
The fellowship was content to spend the rest of the evening mulling over Gandalf’s words until a young merchant, dressed in fine robes and a wearing the mask of a radiant sun, took the stage to make an announcement and interrupted their musings. Normally the fellowship would have paid him little heed, but as the man began to speak a sinking feeling formed in the pit of Hergar’s stomach. Recalling the voice he had heard in the Dwimmerhorn, he looked over his shoulder to see who was speaking. For in his heart he knew it to be the same voice! As he called his concerns to the fellowship’s attention, Rolf too was already looking to the young man and realizing that it was Sigdan, the young merchant who had led the scheme to kidnap and ransom Hannah, his fiancé. They listened as Sigdan brought forth a large chest of treasure and announced that it would be the prize for the champion of tomorrow’s Grand Melee. The crowd grew ecstatic and the joyous mood of the evening was redoubled with the festivities lasting well into the early morning hours. That night the company slept uneasily as they wondered what the devious Sigdan had in store for tomorrow.
*** *** ***
As the sun rose the next day, the companions awoke to find the city filled with excitement as everyone poured out of the Ravensgate to either sign up for or watch the day’s competitions. The entire fellowship opted to attempt the Horse-riding competition, though they were admittedly wary of their chances of success. All but Calithilon, who took a cue from his kinsmen and abstained from the competition, signed up for the Grand Melee. He did, however, choose to sign up for the Archery competition, eager to pit his skills against those of Galia. Hergar and Alaric both agreed to do their best to humble the braggart Gerold in the test of Strength.
The day began with the Archery competition. Calithilon acquitted himself well, but was ultimately bested by Galia, who took home the prize. They all failed to get past the first round of the Horse-riding competition, so they chose to spend the rest of the afternoon drinking and cheering on Elstan who won the day. Alaric made it to the second round of the test of Strength, but was bested as Hergar moved on to face Gerold in the final round. Gerold vastly underestimated Hergar and quickly found himself humiliated, eating a face-full of sand as Hergar sent him flying out of the ring.
Alaric, Hergar, and Rolf chose to fight together in the Grand Melee. Alaric suffered some grievous blows early on and was forced to bow out; but, Rolf and Hergar fought through the pain, eventually besting a group of young Dwarven warriors before humiliating Gerold on last time. As the last two men standing, and each heavily wounded, Rolf chose to graciously yield to Hergar, declaring him the grand champion. With a flurry of applause the crowd hoisted Hergar and Rolf onto their shoulders and paraded them to the big tent that would house the feast in the Market Square. Though battered and muddy, everyone gathered inside the tent to drink, feast, dance, and sing as they traded tales and celebrated that day’s victories. However, despite the joyous atmosphere, the fellowship remained wary of what Sigdan may have in store and so chose to not partake in any food or drink.
After everyone was deep in their cups, Sigdan took the stage with dramatic flair, once again wearing his robes and beaming sun-mask. Raising his arms to draw the crowd’s attention, he pointed to his throat to let them know he had lost his voice. Picking up the first pouch of coins from the table, he drew the drawstring back like a bow and released the pouch towards Galia, who had won the Archery competition. Flexing his muscles, he feigned that the next pouch was too heavy to lift as he drug it off the table and hefted it towards Hergar, who had won the test of Strength. Sigdan caught a passing server unaware when he leapt onto the poor man’s back and ‘rode’ the poor man around the room, pretending to joust over cups of wine before pitching the pouch of coins to Elstan, the winner of the Horse-riding event.
The room exploded into laughter and applause, but quickly grew quiet as Sigdan leaned over to lift the lid off of the chest of gold that was promised to the winners of the Grand Melee. Pausing for dramatic effect, he threw back the lid, reached inside, and shrieked as he hurled a handful of serpents into the crowd. Both Sigdan and the crowd panicked as snakes poured out of the overturned chest and slithered into the screaming crowd. Falling to the floor, Sigdan’s mask fell from his face to reveal that it was not Sigdan at all, but someone completely unknown to the companions. He was floundering in terror and grappling with the snakes as they slithered up the sleeves of his robes, striking him over and over.
The fellowship scrambled to help as many as they could, realizing that most of Dale’s finest warriors were in attendance. All around, those who had imbibed in the feast began to wretch and pass out. People stumbled into the alleys outside only to collapse in convulsions on the street. Calithilon slew as many snakes as he was able, positioning himself between the serpents and the crowd. Alaric saw to Elstan, knowing he would be needed to defend Dale if this were a precursor to an attack, as they all suspected. It quickly became apparent that Elstan had not been struck by a snake, but was in fact poisoned! As were all those who partook of the meal! Rolf and Hergar questioned the man masquerading as ‘Sigdan’. The man claimed he was hired by the real Sigdan to pull a prank on the crowd. The chest was supposed to be empty, and once the crowd overcame their shock, the real Sigdan would appear to deliver the reward to the winners. He seemed genuinely confused and full of regret as the snake’s venom took hold and the color drained from his face. His last words were an unintelligible sputter through the foam on his lips.
With the city descending into chaos, Rolf gathered the fellowship and raced of the Royal Palace to secure Bard’s safety, only to find the gates sealed. Despite their best efforts the guards would not allow them admittance, even though they insisted they had valuable information to tell the king. Never ones to give up so easily, they found Elstan once again as he was being carried on a litter for additional treatment in the palace and told him all they knew of Sigdan and his plot. Elstan thanked them and gave them assurances that he would convey their information to Bard personally. Relieved to know their information would find its way to the king, they spent the rest of the night healing the sick, quelling the panic, and remaining vigilant for further attacks.
*** *** ***
Rising early and having slept very little, the companions rushed back to the gate of the palace. They were met by the cheers from thankful townsfolk who saw them as Dale’s saviors. Inside, a grim Bard stared intently at map of the Dalelands. He rose and addressed the crowd’s concerns, but it was clear that danger was not far. A raven had arrived that morning to deliver a dire message. An army of orcs, wolves, and men approached from the south and would soon be at Dale’s gates. Those in attendance raised many concerns that the fellowship successfully assuaged while also assuring Bard that they were up to any task he could lay before them. After a brief discussion, all agreed that the fellowship was needed to ride south and hold the bridge at Celduin until Bard could muster his forces to reinforce them. It was a perilous task that the fellowship accepted without question.
An hour later, the fellowship gathered at the Trader’s Gate, kissed their loved ones goodbye, and rode south to meet the enemy before it could cross the Running River. Four against an army. For Dale! And the Free-Folk of the North!
Here we go...
The Crossings of Celduin (November 2951)
Part One: The Gathering of Five Armies
Having scattered throughout the Dalelands to attend to their individual Holdings, the companions came back together in Dale to enjoy the festivities that the Gathering of Five Armies brings to the city. Rolf generously provided them with accommodations at his family’s estate in the Ravensgate District. Otherwise, most of the fellowship would have found themselves camping outside the Trader’s Gate with the bulk of the revelers. After spending some time catching up over breakfast, they each struck out into the city to enjoy all the offerings that come with such a large event. Rolf spent the day with Hannah, showing her the city and engaging in a series of festival games in the hopes that he could relieve some of her melancholy that was brought on by her horrible experience in the barrow of Bávlos. His efforts were rewarded, and they enjoyed a day full of smiles and lifted spirits. Hergar spent the day with Rúna in the Market Square selling pots of honey from his apiaries. Although they made little money, they enjoyed their time together working and taking in the Market Square. Alaric and Ashryn, his Elven love, walked the streets and enjoyed the carnival atmosphere. They bought masks to wear to that evening’s ball and relished the time they had together. Calithilon spent his time walking the streets, breaking a smile when he saw two vendors fighting over their claims of each possessing the Black Arrow. His mood turned momentarily dark as he remembered how he once succumbed to its black curse before his fellowship and he returned it to Smaug’s final resting place.
As evening approached they followed the crowds to the gates of the Royal Palace to hear Bard speak at the official opening ceremony for the festival. They were not disappointment. Together with Bard was his new queen, Una, Dain, the Master of Lake-town, and a group of Elven emissaries. And most importantly, Gandalf the Grey! The wizard that Radagast had sent them to find. At the end of his speech, the night sky behind Bard exploded as Gandalf unleashed a series of fireworks that left the crowd amazed on this most joyous of nights. Once the show was over, the company prepared to spend the rest of the night celebrating at the grand ball.
The night began with a musical duel between Bombur’s Dwarven band and a group of Elven musicians. With neither able to best the other, they eventually joined together to form the most unique music that Dale had heard in a generation. Elstan, the First Captain of Dale, stopped by to express his thanks for all the fellowship has done to aid Bard and reiterated that they are considered friends among those in the city’s court. They tolerated the boastings of Gerold the Beorning as he loudly proclaimed himself the victor in tomorrow’s games. Calithilon approached Galia, an Elven archer of some renown, who was drinking alone. They paid their mutual respects to each other and, as they parted, she told him that it would be her honor to challenge him in tomorrow’s Archery competition.
Midway through the night’s activities, Alaric spied the tip of a pointed, grey hat making its way through the crowd like a shark’s fin. Nudging his companions, they pushed their way through the crowd and introduced themselves to Gandalf the Grey. Though he made it plain that he had many matters to attend to, he agreed to stop and listen to their petition, mostly because Radagast had urged him to do so. He listened as, one-by-one, the companions described their first encounter with the dark spirit in the hills of the Misty Mountains when they were escorting Irimë west. Hergar next detailed his encounter with the spirit in the temple atop the Dwimmerhorn, recalling the conversation between the black Uruk, evil man, and dark spirit as best he could. Gandalf listened thoughtfully and then told them what he knew. The evil spirit was the Gibbet King, an ancient evil who he had encountered once before in the dungeons of Dol Guldur, and a former servant of the Necromancer. Though he does not know the Gibbet King’s plans, it is certain that he has set his schemes into motion and that the fellowship can only hope to be prepared when he reveals himself again. With that, Gandalf wished them the best of luck and disappeared into the crowd.
The fellowship was content to spend the rest of the evening mulling over Gandalf’s words until a young merchant, dressed in fine robes and a wearing the mask of a radiant sun, took the stage to make an announcement and interrupted their musings. Normally the fellowship would have paid him little heed, but as the man began to speak a sinking feeling formed in the pit of Hergar’s stomach. Recalling the voice he had heard in the Dwimmerhorn, he looked over his shoulder to see who was speaking. For in his heart he knew it to be the same voice! As he called his concerns to the fellowship’s attention, Rolf too was already looking to the young man and realizing that it was Sigdan, the young merchant who had led the scheme to kidnap and ransom Hannah, his fiancé. They listened as Sigdan brought forth a large chest of treasure and announced that it would be the prize for the champion of tomorrow’s Grand Melee. The crowd grew ecstatic and the joyous mood of the evening was redoubled with the festivities lasting well into the early morning hours. That night the company slept uneasily as they wondered what the devious Sigdan had in store for tomorrow.
*** *** ***
As the sun rose the next day, the companions awoke to find the city filled with excitement as everyone poured out of the Ravensgate to either sign up for or watch the day’s competitions. The entire fellowship opted to attempt the Horse-riding competition, though they were admittedly wary of their chances of success. All but Calithilon, who took a cue from his kinsmen and abstained from the competition, signed up for the Grand Melee. He did, however, choose to sign up for the Archery competition, eager to pit his skills against those of Galia. Hergar and Alaric both agreed to do their best to humble the braggart Gerold in the test of Strength.
The day began with the Archery competition. Calithilon acquitted himself well, but was ultimately bested by Galia, who took home the prize. They all failed to get past the first round of the Horse-riding competition, so they chose to spend the rest of the afternoon drinking and cheering on Elstan who won the day. Alaric made it to the second round of the test of Strength, but was bested as Hergar moved on to face Gerold in the final round. Gerold vastly underestimated Hergar and quickly found himself humiliated, eating a face-full of sand as Hergar sent him flying out of the ring.
Alaric, Hergar, and Rolf chose to fight together in the Grand Melee. Alaric suffered some grievous blows early on and was forced to bow out; but, Rolf and Hergar fought through the pain, eventually besting a group of young Dwarven warriors before humiliating Gerold on last time. As the last two men standing, and each heavily wounded, Rolf chose to graciously yield to Hergar, declaring him the grand champion. With a flurry of applause the crowd hoisted Hergar and Rolf onto their shoulders and paraded them to the big tent that would house the feast in the Market Square. Though battered and muddy, everyone gathered inside the tent to drink, feast, dance, and sing as they traded tales and celebrated that day’s victories. However, despite the joyous atmosphere, the fellowship remained wary of what Sigdan may have in store and so chose to not partake in any food or drink.
After everyone was deep in their cups, Sigdan took the stage with dramatic flair, once again wearing his robes and beaming sun-mask. Raising his arms to draw the crowd’s attention, he pointed to his throat to let them know he had lost his voice. Picking up the first pouch of coins from the table, he drew the drawstring back like a bow and released the pouch towards Galia, who had won the Archery competition. Flexing his muscles, he feigned that the next pouch was too heavy to lift as he drug it off the table and hefted it towards Hergar, who had won the test of Strength. Sigdan caught a passing server unaware when he leapt onto the poor man’s back and ‘rode’ the poor man around the room, pretending to joust over cups of wine before pitching the pouch of coins to Elstan, the winner of the Horse-riding event.
The room exploded into laughter and applause, but quickly grew quiet as Sigdan leaned over to lift the lid off of the chest of gold that was promised to the winners of the Grand Melee. Pausing for dramatic effect, he threw back the lid, reached inside, and shrieked as he hurled a handful of serpents into the crowd. Both Sigdan and the crowd panicked as snakes poured out of the overturned chest and slithered into the screaming crowd. Falling to the floor, Sigdan’s mask fell from his face to reveal that it was not Sigdan at all, but someone completely unknown to the companions. He was floundering in terror and grappling with the snakes as they slithered up the sleeves of his robes, striking him over and over.
The fellowship scrambled to help as many as they could, realizing that most of Dale’s finest warriors were in attendance. All around, those who had imbibed in the feast began to wretch and pass out. People stumbled into the alleys outside only to collapse in convulsions on the street. Calithilon slew as many snakes as he was able, positioning himself between the serpents and the crowd. Alaric saw to Elstan, knowing he would be needed to defend Dale if this were a precursor to an attack, as they all suspected. It quickly became apparent that Elstan had not been struck by a snake, but was in fact poisoned! As were all those who partook of the meal! Rolf and Hergar questioned the man masquerading as ‘Sigdan’. The man claimed he was hired by the real Sigdan to pull a prank on the crowd. The chest was supposed to be empty, and once the crowd overcame their shock, the real Sigdan would appear to deliver the reward to the winners. He seemed genuinely confused and full of regret as the snake’s venom took hold and the color drained from his face. His last words were an unintelligible sputter through the foam on his lips.
With the city descending into chaos, Rolf gathered the fellowship and raced of the Royal Palace to secure Bard’s safety, only to find the gates sealed. Despite their best efforts the guards would not allow them admittance, even though they insisted they had valuable information to tell the king. Never ones to give up so easily, they found Elstan once again as he was being carried on a litter for additional treatment in the palace and told him all they knew of Sigdan and his plot. Elstan thanked them and gave them assurances that he would convey their information to Bard personally. Relieved to know their information would find its way to the king, they spent the rest of the night healing the sick, quelling the panic, and remaining vigilant for further attacks.
*** *** ***
Rising early and having slept very little, the companions rushed back to the gate of the palace. They were met by the cheers from thankful townsfolk who saw them as Dale’s saviors. Inside, a grim Bard stared intently at map of the Dalelands. He rose and addressed the crowd’s concerns, but it was clear that danger was not far. A raven had arrived that morning to deliver a dire message. An army of orcs, wolves, and men approached from the south and would soon be at Dale’s gates. Those in attendance raised many concerns that the fellowship successfully assuaged while also assuring Bard that they were up to any task he could lay before them. After a brief discussion, all agreed that the fellowship was needed to ride south and hold the bridge at Celduin until Bard could muster his forces to reinforce them. It was a perilous task that the fellowship accepted without question.
An hour later, the fellowship gathered at the Trader’s Gate, kissed their loved ones goodbye, and rode south to meet the enemy before it could cross the Running River. Four against an army. For Dale! And the Free-Folk of the North!
Re: Hope Against the Shadow-A Tale of Years
The Crossings of Celduin
Part Two: Ride to Ruin
Riding hard out of Dale, they crossed the river and turned south to follow the eastern shore of the Long Lake. Shouting warnings of the coming danger to everyone they passed, the fellowship made good time until some fishermen called them to a halt. They reported seeing a strange sight just hours before. Four men, one richly dressed, were standing in a boat just off shore and squabbling over a large chest. Realizing that the richly dressed man was Sigdan, they spurred their horses on, determined to track down the traitor. Hunting along the banks of the lake, they came upon him and two swarthy guards as they were dragging the heavy chest through the muck onto shore.
The guards loosed two arrows at the company, but they flew wide as the companions charged into them. With a brutal strike, Alaric slew the first of the guards as Hergar, ignoring the guards, charged towards Sigdan who was attempting to flee back to boat. Leaping from his horse, he buried his axe deep into Sigdan’s back, crumpling the merchant into the mud. The last guard was quickly dispatched, and they drug a wheezing Sigdan onto the river bank. Alaric treated his wound, then the others bound and gagged him fearing his voice carried a fell power.
Not wanting to turn back to Dale, they decided it best to bury the treasure along the shore and take the wounded Sigdan to friends of Hergar at Ty’s Harbour. Dumping him unceremoniously in a horse stall, they left him under the watchful eye of the stable-master with explicit instructions to leave him bound and to deliver him to the first patrol from Dale that passed through.
Realizing that tracking down Sigdan had delayed them, they pushed their steeds hard to get to the Nether Marches, riding through the night to make up for lost time. The next morning, flocks of gore-crows gathered over the fellowship’s route and a feeling of unease settled over the company. They chanced upon and slew an orc patrol who spoke of the ‘gibbet boss’ causing them to fear that they would arrive too late.
At last, by mid-morning the following day, Celduin came into view and they were relieved to find it still intact. They were greeted by Erik, the town’s elderly Master, who was supported by his two young granddaughters. Though initially combative and dismissive of the impending doom of his town, Rolf appealed to the Master’s sense of pride and assured the old man that Dale had no interest in meddling in the town’s affairs. With a dismissive wave the Master of Celduin granted them leave to make what preparations they could against the coming horde.
Preparing for the imminent attack called for quick and decisive action. Each companion assessed the town, searching for any weakness that could expose them to the enemy. A cursory inspection revealed that the toll house gate was rusted open, so Rolf spend the afternoon getting it back in working order. Hergar and Alaric built blockades to station at intervals along the bridge in the hope of slowing down the enemy. Calithilon did his best to muster what fighting men the town held and train them in the ways of Elven archery. His efforts met with marginal success, but it would have to do. It was decided that the fellowship would attempt to hold the southernmost blockade as Calithilon directed the archers from the toll house rooftop. If needed, they would fall back in groups, using the stone walls of the inn as their last stand should the enemy breach the gate.
As the sun set that evening, Rolf gathered all those who would fight under the torch light at the toll house and roused them to fight for their lives and those of all the Free Folk of the North. Taking their positions on the bridge, everyone waited as darkness fell and the first howls of the coming tide echoed over the distant hill. The Battle for Celduin had begun.
*** *** ***
As the orc forces approached the bridge, one orc loomed larger than the others. It was the black Uruk who bore the symbol of the red eye that Hergar had seen at the Dwimmerhorn, Ghor the Despoiler. Stepping forward, he demanded their immediate surrender. With a roar of fury, he cursed their obstinate refusal and ordered his troops to spare no one.
The outriders descended on the bridge with terrible speed and fury. Orcs riding atop wolves slammed into the first barricade, their riders hurling themselves over the fellowship and making for the toll house. The first wave broke against Hergar’s axe as he felled the orcs two at a time. Lifting his voice above the din of battle, Rolf inspired his companions to ignore their pain and fight on through the furious assault. Alaric’s axe bit deeply into many wolves, his enmity towards the creatures fueling every strike.
Realizing that his companions were in jeopardy of being overwhelmed, Calithilon brought himself to his full stature atop the toll house, reached deep into his heart, and brought forth the full glory of the Elven light within him. The Cloak of the Moon shone bright as day and the orcs on the bridge fled in terror before his magnificence.
With the orcs in retreat, the rest of the companions regrouped and pushed back towards the first barricade, slaying what few wolves remained along the way. Enraged by the failures of his troops, Ghor the Despoiler rallied the orcs and charged back into the company. Hergar stepped forward to meet his charge and landed the first blow, staggering the Uruk. Determined to defeat the champion, the orcs pressed the attack and unbalanced Hergar enough for Ghor to strike him with a savage blow. Such was the power of the blow that Hergar was forced to yield his position on the line, falling back under the great weight of the attack. Alaric and Calithilon both took the initiative to defend the weakened Beorning and held the orcs at bay until he could collect himself. Gathering his wits, Hergar launched himself into Ghor and buried his axe deep in the Uruk’s belly, emptying his guts over the white stone of the bridge.
With Ghor’s death, the remaining orcs withdrew to regroup and prepare their next assault. A weary, but resilient fellowship relished the brief respite and began collecting themselves for the next assault.
*** *** ***
If the moon rose that night, no one saw it. The sky had grown unnaturally dark and heavy clouds made an already foreboding night sky more sinister. Under that sky the fellowship waited behind the barricades for what they knew was the next inevitable attack. Hours drug by and they began to allow themselves to hope that the night might pass quietly. Unfortunately, just before midnight, a massive figure emerged from the darkness to the chittering of dozens of goblins. To their dismay, they realized it was a hill-troll of Mordor! It slowly lumbered towards the anxious companions as their knuckles whitened with anticipation against the hafts of their weapons. A goblin archer swatted the troll on its calf to get its attention and then pointed at the toll house behind the fellowship. With a terrifying roar, it slammed its hammer onto its buckler and then charged headlong on to the bridge.
Hergar braced himself to receive the full onslaught of the creature, but was surprised when it barreled passed him and made for the portcullis at the toll house. Realizing what was happening, the companions chased after it, but could not reach the troll before its first hammer blow crashed into the bars, warping and twisting them under the powerful strike. Rolf yelled for the gate to be closed, but his orders were lost in the sounds battle and the men defending the portcullis never heard them. As goblin arrows rained down upon them, the fellowship threw their full weight into the troll hoping to distract it before the portcullis was destroyed. With a primal yell, Alaric’s axe sliced into the back of the troll’s knee, cutting deep into its sinew and causing a grievous wound. A final massive strike from the hill-troll’s hammer shattered the last of the bars and he crashed through the defenders into the town.
The fellowship rushed to position themselves between the town and the raging troll even as goblins poured across the bridge in an attempt to take advantage of the troll’s opening. Calithilon leapt down from the rooftop and managed to close the gate just as the goblins reached it. Hearing the gate shut behind him, the confused troll wheeled around and went back to complete its task of crushing the gate. Though weary and battered from battling the troll, the companions managed to hack it down before it could bring its fearsome hammer to bear on the gate. Its death-howl echoing through the valley.
Part Two: Ride to Ruin
Riding hard out of Dale, they crossed the river and turned south to follow the eastern shore of the Long Lake. Shouting warnings of the coming danger to everyone they passed, the fellowship made good time until some fishermen called them to a halt. They reported seeing a strange sight just hours before. Four men, one richly dressed, were standing in a boat just off shore and squabbling over a large chest. Realizing that the richly dressed man was Sigdan, they spurred their horses on, determined to track down the traitor. Hunting along the banks of the lake, they came upon him and two swarthy guards as they were dragging the heavy chest through the muck onto shore.
The guards loosed two arrows at the company, but they flew wide as the companions charged into them. With a brutal strike, Alaric slew the first of the guards as Hergar, ignoring the guards, charged towards Sigdan who was attempting to flee back to boat. Leaping from his horse, he buried his axe deep into Sigdan’s back, crumpling the merchant into the mud. The last guard was quickly dispatched, and they drug a wheezing Sigdan onto the river bank. Alaric treated his wound, then the others bound and gagged him fearing his voice carried a fell power.
Not wanting to turn back to Dale, they decided it best to bury the treasure along the shore and take the wounded Sigdan to friends of Hergar at Ty’s Harbour. Dumping him unceremoniously in a horse stall, they left him under the watchful eye of the stable-master with explicit instructions to leave him bound and to deliver him to the first patrol from Dale that passed through.
Realizing that tracking down Sigdan had delayed them, they pushed their steeds hard to get to the Nether Marches, riding through the night to make up for lost time. The next morning, flocks of gore-crows gathered over the fellowship’s route and a feeling of unease settled over the company. They chanced upon and slew an orc patrol who spoke of the ‘gibbet boss’ causing them to fear that they would arrive too late.
At last, by mid-morning the following day, Celduin came into view and they were relieved to find it still intact. They were greeted by Erik, the town’s elderly Master, who was supported by his two young granddaughters. Though initially combative and dismissive of the impending doom of his town, Rolf appealed to the Master’s sense of pride and assured the old man that Dale had no interest in meddling in the town’s affairs. With a dismissive wave the Master of Celduin granted them leave to make what preparations they could against the coming horde.
Preparing for the imminent attack called for quick and decisive action. Each companion assessed the town, searching for any weakness that could expose them to the enemy. A cursory inspection revealed that the toll house gate was rusted open, so Rolf spend the afternoon getting it back in working order. Hergar and Alaric built blockades to station at intervals along the bridge in the hope of slowing down the enemy. Calithilon did his best to muster what fighting men the town held and train them in the ways of Elven archery. His efforts met with marginal success, but it would have to do. It was decided that the fellowship would attempt to hold the southernmost blockade as Calithilon directed the archers from the toll house rooftop. If needed, they would fall back in groups, using the stone walls of the inn as their last stand should the enemy breach the gate.
As the sun set that evening, Rolf gathered all those who would fight under the torch light at the toll house and roused them to fight for their lives and those of all the Free Folk of the North. Taking their positions on the bridge, everyone waited as darkness fell and the first howls of the coming tide echoed over the distant hill. The Battle for Celduin had begun.
*** *** ***
As the orc forces approached the bridge, one orc loomed larger than the others. It was the black Uruk who bore the symbol of the red eye that Hergar had seen at the Dwimmerhorn, Ghor the Despoiler. Stepping forward, he demanded their immediate surrender. With a roar of fury, he cursed their obstinate refusal and ordered his troops to spare no one.
The outriders descended on the bridge with terrible speed and fury. Orcs riding atop wolves slammed into the first barricade, their riders hurling themselves over the fellowship and making for the toll house. The first wave broke against Hergar’s axe as he felled the orcs two at a time. Lifting his voice above the din of battle, Rolf inspired his companions to ignore their pain and fight on through the furious assault. Alaric’s axe bit deeply into many wolves, his enmity towards the creatures fueling every strike.
Realizing that his companions were in jeopardy of being overwhelmed, Calithilon brought himself to his full stature atop the toll house, reached deep into his heart, and brought forth the full glory of the Elven light within him. The Cloak of the Moon shone bright as day and the orcs on the bridge fled in terror before his magnificence.
With the orcs in retreat, the rest of the companions regrouped and pushed back towards the first barricade, slaying what few wolves remained along the way. Enraged by the failures of his troops, Ghor the Despoiler rallied the orcs and charged back into the company. Hergar stepped forward to meet his charge and landed the first blow, staggering the Uruk. Determined to defeat the champion, the orcs pressed the attack and unbalanced Hergar enough for Ghor to strike him with a savage blow. Such was the power of the blow that Hergar was forced to yield his position on the line, falling back under the great weight of the attack. Alaric and Calithilon both took the initiative to defend the weakened Beorning and held the orcs at bay until he could collect himself. Gathering his wits, Hergar launched himself into Ghor and buried his axe deep in the Uruk’s belly, emptying his guts over the white stone of the bridge.
With Ghor’s death, the remaining orcs withdrew to regroup and prepare their next assault. A weary, but resilient fellowship relished the brief respite and began collecting themselves for the next assault.
*** *** ***
If the moon rose that night, no one saw it. The sky had grown unnaturally dark and heavy clouds made an already foreboding night sky more sinister. Under that sky the fellowship waited behind the barricades for what they knew was the next inevitable attack. Hours drug by and they began to allow themselves to hope that the night might pass quietly. Unfortunately, just before midnight, a massive figure emerged from the darkness to the chittering of dozens of goblins. To their dismay, they realized it was a hill-troll of Mordor! It slowly lumbered towards the anxious companions as their knuckles whitened with anticipation against the hafts of their weapons. A goblin archer swatted the troll on its calf to get its attention and then pointed at the toll house behind the fellowship. With a terrifying roar, it slammed its hammer onto its buckler and then charged headlong on to the bridge.
Hergar braced himself to receive the full onslaught of the creature, but was surprised when it barreled passed him and made for the portcullis at the toll house. Realizing what was happening, the companions chased after it, but could not reach the troll before its first hammer blow crashed into the bars, warping and twisting them under the powerful strike. Rolf yelled for the gate to be closed, but his orders were lost in the sounds battle and the men defending the portcullis never heard them. As goblin arrows rained down upon them, the fellowship threw their full weight into the troll hoping to distract it before the portcullis was destroyed. With a primal yell, Alaric’s axe sliced into the back of the troll’s knee, cutting deep into its sinew and causing a grievous wound. A final massive strike from the hill-troll’s hammer shattered the last of the bars and he crashed through the defenders into the town.
The fellowship rushed to position themselves between the town and the raging troll even as goblins poured across the bridge in an attempt to take advantage of the troll’s opening. Calithilon leapt down from the rooftop and managed to close the gate just as the goblins reached it. Hearing the gate shut behind him, the confused troll wheeled around and went back to complete its task of crushing the gate. Though weary and battered from battling the troll, the companions managed to hack it down before it could bring its fearsome hammer to bear on the gate. Its death-howl echoing through the valley.
Re: Hope Against the Shadow-A Tale of Years
The Crossings of Celduin
Part Three: The Last Stand
With the death of the hill-troll, the goblins lost their desire to fight and fled back into the darkness. No more attacks came that night and the fellowship breathed a sigh of relief with the coming of the pale grey dawn.
Knowing the orcs would not attack until night fell one more, the company left some sentries on duty and looked to the cares of the townsfolk. The goblin fire-arrows had set many homes afire, but the villagers had managed to keep the fires contained. A few townsfolk had been wounded by the arrows, but most of the casualties had been caused when the troll breached the portcullis. All of the wounded were taken to the inn where Alaric was tending to as many as he was able.
Wanting to know the full measure of the enemy forces, Calithilon left that morning and rode south to search for the coming army in the hopes of assessing their size and strength. Deftly avoiding the outriders, he crested the hill on the southern portion of the valley and was mortified by what he saw. A host of orcs far larger than any he had ever witnessed was amassed and marching towards them, a wagon drawn by two black steeds at its head. Wheeling his horse, he returned with all speed back to Celduin to warn the others.
Meanwhile, Hergar and Rolf spent the morning assessing the damage to the town. The portcullis was smashed beyond repair, but the gate still stood. Many were injured, and a sense of desperation filled the air. Meeting under the eaves of the old inn, the fellowship concluded that the remaining villagers who could not fight should be evacuated. With any luck they would encounter Bard’s forces who were hopefully already riding south. Erik, the Master of Celduin, wholeheartedly agreed with their plan and volunteered to lead the townsfolk to safety. Giving up their horses and gathering what wagons and supplies they could, the fellowship bade farewell to the townsfolk and sent them north, hopefully to safety.
Shortly after noon, Hergar spied a raven coming from the north. It crossed over the town and was landing near the toll house when a hail of goblin arrows skewered it, sending its message into the river below. Reacting quickly, Hergar dove into the river and managed to grab the parchment before it could be swept downriver. Breaking the seal, the unraveled message read, “Dale marches south with Esgaroth and the Dwarves of the Mountain! Hold the river through the night. At dawn, look to the North“. A wellspring of hope grew in the companions as they were assured that help was coming and they need only hold the bridge for one more night. Sadly, there was little they could do to help the raven who had sacrificed himself to deliver the message. As he passed, a foresight came upon him and he urged the company to fight the coming evil with water or fire.
Inside the inn, the air had grown thick with the smell of the wounded and their moans were a constant reminder of how much the town had already suffered. A desperate farmer’s wife implored Alaric to save her husband, Beoric, who had been pierced in the belly by a goblin arrow. But, it was too late. His wound was too grievous and all they could do was make him comfortable until he passed. Alaric spent the entire day washing and bandaging the wounded, hoping to restore as many as he could to good health so that they could man the toll house in the battle to come. As the sun began to set on another exhausting day, it seemed their numbers would be too few to hold the bridge against the coming tide. Their dismay was punctuated by the sounds of Beoric’s death rattle, followed by the quiet sobs of his grieving wife.
For a moment the room grew silent as everyone mourned her loss. And then Beoric stirred. A foul light grew in his eyes as he slowly sat up on the table. Turning to Alaric, his blue lips parted, and a voice that chilled their spirits uttered, “Fools! You think Bard the Bowman is coming to save you? Dale is afire, abandoned by Elf and Dwarf alike. No help is coming to you. No hope is left to you. Yield!”
“Never!” rebuked Alaric and the body went limp again, falling off the table with a dull thud. Those in the room panicked in terror at what they had witnessed and would have fled had Rolf not risen to the occasion and stirred their hearts to fight back against the shadow with his words of hope and family.
Outside, the blast of an orc horn announced the dreaded arrival of their foe. The Gibbet King had arrived!
*** *** ***
The silhouette of hundreds of orcs darkened the ridge south of the river. The clamor of their shouts, banging, and stomping formed such a cacophony that it drowned out the sounds of the rushing water beneath the companions. What began as a slow march towards the bridge became a full charge as the orcs reached the flats leading towards Celduin. They swarmed onto the bridge with overwhelming force, shouting with fury as they threw themselves over the barricades. The companions dug in and felled dozens of orcs as the wave washed over them. But for every orc that fell a dozen more seemed to pour onto the bridge.
All around the fellowship the orcs slipped passed them and began to climb the toll house, throwing themselves against its walls as they scrambled towards the windows on the upper levels. Calithilon and his men rained arrows down upon them, but their numbers seemed endless and it was a short time before orcs began flooding into the building. Outside, Alaric and Hergar hewed the orcs down by the dozens, but nothing seemed to stem the tide. With their backs to the gate, Rolf did his best to rally the company as they were repeatedly bashed and slashed by innumerable passing orcs.
Looking to the ridgeline over the mass of orcs, Calithilon saw the wagon begin to descend the hillside and make its way towards the bridge. As the battle raged around them, the wagon slowly made its way across the plain to the southern end of the bridge. The orcs parted to make way for the cart, seemingly wary of getting too close to it. As the wagon came fully into view, Calithilon realized why.
Atop the wagon sat a gibbet containing the withered and rotting body of Walar, the escaped slave that the fellowship had left in the Gladden Fields last year. His eyes had long since melted away, but they were now replaced by the all-too-familiar glow that meant he was now a vessel of the Gibbet King. Soon the wagon would cross onto the bridge and his companions would be awash in a sea of orcs, trapped between the gate and the Gibbet King. Recognizing the desperate situation in which his company would soon find themselves, he resolved that his only course was to once again tap into the powers held within the gift from Thranduil that he wore over his shoulders. The light of the Cloak of the Moon shown once more, its radiance terrifying the orcs on the bridge, but taxing Calithilon to his limits. To escape the light, many of the orcs threw themselves from the bridge or under the wheels of the Gibbet King’s cart. Anything to escape the burning light that they hated so much. In that moment, the cart stood alone on the bridge.
Remembering the words of the raven, the companions at the gate grabbed what torches they could and charged towards the cart. The eyes of the Gibbet King fell on Hergar and he felt the spirit’s will being exerted on him through that baleful gaze. However, his resolve was steeled, and he resisted the terror that sought to overwhelm him. Torch after torch was heaped onto the wagon as the companions hoped that the fire would burn the Gibbet King’s essence away or at the very least destroy his host. Rolf staggered as the Gibbet King sought to dominate his will, but he pulled himself up to his full measure and renounced the evil spirit’s efforts by plunging the Blade of Bávlos into its belly.
Slowly the wagon caught fire and the Gibbet King would have soon been no more had two hill-trolls not stormed onto the bridge, determined to defend their master. Once more the dead eyes of Walar fell upon Hergar and Rolf and they felt their feet grow sluggish beneath them. Alaric sent his dog Odo to harry one of the trolls and Hergar intercepted the other. Fortune was with him as the first troll swung high, missing with a blow that could have easily crushed Hergar’s skull. The other troll brought its hammer crashing down on Rolf, but just missed as the tenacious Odo threw the troll off balance. In response Alaric’s axe cut a slab of the creature’s flesh from its arms causing it to howl in rage.
Holding their ground, the fellowship stood against both trolls as the fire on the Gibbet King’s wagon steadily grew into an inferno. His flesh crackled and popped as the flames consumed his host’s body. In the light of those flames, the fellowship desperately battled against the hill-trolls, holding out hope that it was only a matter of time before the Gibbet King was destroyed. Their gambit paid off. With a final curse, the possessed body of Walar collapsed, the glow from his eyes extinguished. With the power of their master defeated, the trolls fled from the bridge and retreated over the ridge with the remaining orc host. A triumphant chorus arose from the company as they held their weapons high, rejoicing in their victory.
The remainder of the night was anxious as everyone watched from the toll house to see if any more attacks would come. With the dawn, their fears were assuaged, and they rejoiced upon hearing horns from the north that signaled the arrival of Dale’s outriders. Elstan, First Captain of Dale, rode at the head of the army. He greeted the fellowship and bid them to join him as he pursued the routed army. Gladly, the fellowship mounted their horses and chased down the last of the Gibbet King’s forces alongside Elstan and King Bard’s forces. It was a glorious conclusion to what had been a terrible battle of desperation.
Afterwards, as the army tended to their wounded and prepared to make the return journey to Dale, Bard took the time to thank the fellowship for undertaking what they knew could be a march to their deaths. Although there was no time for pleasantries, he promised to give them a hero’s return in Dale once the city was restored to order. The next day, at his request, they joined Bard at the head of the army as it began its victorious march home towards Dale.
Alaric’s Tale: Spent his time at the festivities in Dale with Ashryn, further building their relationship. Competed in the Horse-riding, Strength, and Grand Melee competitions. Did not win any of them. Tending to the poisoned revelers at the feast. Treated the wounded at Celduin. Held the bridge against innumerable orcs, wolves, and trolls. Wounded the hill-troll twice. Received ten Treasure as reward for holding the bridge at Celduin.
Calithilon’s Tale: Spent his time at the festival alone. Competed against Galia in the Archery competition but lost in the last round. Entered and lost the Horse-riding competition. Directed the archers and manned the toll house during the Battle of Celduin. Scouted the enemy forces. Spent two Hope to activate the Cloak of the Moon twice during the battle. Received ten Treasure as reward for holding the bridge at Celduin.
Hergar’s Tale: Manned a stall with Rúna in the Market Square selling pots of honey from his apiary. Business was slow. Competed in the Horse-riding competition and lost. Competed in the test of Strength and the Grand Melee, winning both and humiliating Gerold the Beorning! Granted +3 Tolerance on all encounters in the Dalelands for the next year. Retrieve the raven’s message from the Running River. Held the bridge at Celduin against endless tides of orcs, wolves, and trolls. Received ten Treasure as reward for holding the bridge at Celduin.
Rolf’s Tale: Used his time at the festival to entertain and build a relationship with Hannah. Competed in and lost the Horse-riding competition. Made it to the final round of the Grand Melee against Hergar and yielded. Captured Sigdan. Rallied the people of Celduin to fight. Inspired his company throughout two long nights of battle. Received ten Treasure as reward for holding the bridge at Celduin.
Part Three: The Last Stand
With the death of the hill-troll, the goblins lost their desire to fight and fled back into the darkness. No more attacks came that night and the fellowship breathed a sigh of relief with the coming of the pale grey dawn.
Knowing the orcs would not attack until night fell one more, the company left some sentries on duty and looked to the cares of the townsfolk. The goblin fire-arrows had set many homes afire, but the villagers had managed to keep the fires contained. A few townsfolk had been wounded by the arrows, but most of the casualties had been caused when the troll breached the portcullis. All of the wounded were taken to the inn where Alaric was tending to as many as he was able.
Wanting to know the full measure of the enemy forces, Calithilon left that morning and rode south to search for the coming army in the hopes of assessing their size and strength. Deftly avoiding the outriders, he crested the hill on the southern portion of the valley and was mortified by what he saw. A host of orcs far larger than any he had ever witnessed was amassed and marching towards them, a wagon drawn by two black steeds at its head. Wheeling his horse, he returned with all speed back to Celduin to warn the others.
Meanwhile, Hergar and Rolf spent the morning assessing the damage to the town. The portcullis was smashed beyond repair, but the gate still stood. Many were injured, and a sense of desperation filled the air. Meeting under the eaves of the old inn, the fellowship concluded that the remaining villagers who could not fight should be evacuated. With any luck they would encounter Bard’s forces who were hopefully already riding south. Erik, the Master of Celduin, wholeheartedly agreed with their plan and volunteered to lead the townsfolk to safety. Giving up their horses and gathering what wagons and supplies they could, the fellowship bade farewell to the townsfolk and sent them north, hopefully to safety.
Shortly after noon, Hergar spied a raven coming from the north. It crossed over the town and was landing near the toll house when a hail of goblin arrows skewered it, sending its message into the river below. Reacting quickly, Hergar dove into the river and managed to grab the parchment before it could be swept downriver. Breaking the seal, the unraveled message read, “Dale marches south with Esgaroth and the Dwarves of the Mountain! Hold the river through the night. At dawn, look to the North“. A wellspring of hope grew in the companions as they were assured that help was coming and they need only hold the bridge for one more night. Sadly, there was little they could do to help the raven who had sacrificed himself to deliver the message. As he passed, a foresight came upon him and he urged the company to fight the coming evil with water or fire.
Inside the inn, the air had grown thick with the smell of the wounded and their moans were a constant reminder of how much the town had already suffered. A desperate farmer’s wife implored Alaric to save her husband, Beoric, who had been pierced in the belly by a goblin arrow. But, it was too late. His wound was too grievous and all they could do was make him comfortable until he passed. Alaric spent the entire day washing and bandaging the wounded, hoping to restore as many as he could to good health so that they could man the toll house in the battle to come. As the sun began to set on another exhausting day, it seemed their numbers would be too few to hold the bridge against the coming tide. Their dismay was punctuated by the sounds of Beoric’s death rattle, followed by the quiet sobs of his grieving wife.
For a moment the room grew silent as everyone mourned her loss. And then Beoric stirred. A foul light grew in his eyes as he slowly sat up on the table. Turning to Alaric, his blue lips parted, and a voice that chilled their spirits uttered, “Fools! You think Bard the Bowman is coming to save you? Dale is afire, abandoned by Elf and Dwarf alike. No help is coming to you. No hope is left to you. Yield!”
“Never!” rebuked Alaric and the body went limp again, falling off the table with a dull thud. Those in the room panicked in terror at what they had witnessed and would have fled had Rolf not risen to the occasion and stirred their hearts to fight back against the shadow with his words of hope and family.
Outside, the blast of an orc horn announced the dreaded arrival of their foe. The Gibbet King had arrived!
*** *** ***
The silhouette of hundreds of orcs darkened the ridge south of the river. The clamor of their shouts, banging, and stomping formed such a cacophony that it drowned out the sounds of the rushing water beneath the companions. What began as a slow march towards the bridge became a full charge as the orcs reached the flats leading towards Celduin. They swarmed onto the bridge with overwhelming force, shouting with fury as they threw themselves over the barricades. The companions dug in and felled dozens of orcs as the wave washed over them. But for every orc that fell a dozen more seemed to pour onto the bridge.
All around the fellowship the orcs slipped passed them and began to climb the toll house, throwing themselves against its walls as they scrambled towards the windows on the upper levels. Calithilon and his men rained arrows down upon them, but their numbers seemed endless and it was a short time before orcs began flooding into the building. Outside, Alaric and Hergar hewed the orcs down by the dozens, but nothing seemed to stem the tide. With their backs to the gate, Rolf did his best to rally the company as they were repeatedly bashed and slashed by innumerable passing orcs.
Looking to the ridgeline over the mass of orcs, Calithilon saw the wagon begin to descend the hillside and make its way towards the bridge. As the battle raged around them, the wagon slowly made its way across the plain to the southern end of the bridge. The orcs parted to make way for the cart, seemingly wary of getting too close to it. As the wagon came fully into view, Calithilon realized why.
Atop the wagon sat a gibbet containing the withered and rotting body of Walar, the escaped slave that the fellowship had left in the Gladden Fields last year. His eyes had long since melted away, but they were now replaced by the all-too-familiar glow that meant he was now a vessel of the Gibbet King. Soon the wagon would cross onto the bridge and his companions would be awash in a sea of orcs, trapped between the gate and the Gibbet King. Recognizing the desperate situation in which his company would soon find themselves, he resolved that his only course was to once again tap into the powers held within the gift from Thranduil that he wore over his shoulders. The light of the Cloak of the Moon shown once more, its radiance terrifying the orcs on the bridge, but taxing Calithilon to his limits. To escape the light, many of the orcs threw themselves from the bridge or under the wheels of the Gibbet King’s cart. Anything to escape the burning light that they hated so much. In that moment, the cart stood alone on the bridge.
Remembering the words of the raven, the companions at the gate grabbed what torches they could and charged towards the cart. The eyes of the Gibbet King fell on Hergar and he felt the spirit’s will being exerted on him through that baleful gaze. However, his resolve was steeled, and he resisted the terror that sought to overwhelm him. Torch after torch was heaped onto the wagon as the companions hoped that the fire would burn the Gibbet King’s essence away or at the very least destroy his host. Rolf staggered as the Gibbet King sought to dominate his will, but he pulled himself up to his full measure and renounced the evil spirit’s efforts by plunging the Blade of Bávlos into its belly.
Slowly the wagon caught fire and the Gibbet King would have soon been no more had two hill-trolls not stormed onto the bridge, determined to defend their master. Once more the dead eyes of Walar fell upon Hergar and Rolf and they felt their feet grow sluggish beneath them. Alaric sent his dog Odo to harry one of the trolls and Hergar intercepted the other. Fortune was with him as the first troll swung high, missing with a blow that could have easily crushed Hergar’s skull. The other troll brought its hammer crashing down on Rolf, but just missed as the tenacious Odo threw the troll off balance. In response Alaric’s axe cut a slab of the creature’s flesh from its arms causing it to howl in rage.
Holding their ground, the fellowship stood against both trolls as the fire on the Gibbet King’s wagon steadily grew into an inferno. His flesh crackled and popped as the flames consumed his host’s body. In the light of those flames, the fellowship desperately battled against the hill-trolls, holding out hope that it was only a matter of time before the Gibbet King was destroyed. Their gambit paid off. With a final curse, the possessed body of Walar collapsed, the glow from his eyes extinguished. With the power of their master defeated, the trolls fled from the bridge and retreated over the ridge with the remaining orc host. A triumphant chorus arose from the company as they held their weapons high, rejoicing in their victory.
The remainder of the night was anxious as everyone watched from the toll house to see if any more attacks would come. With the dawn, their fears were assuaged, and they rejoiced upon hearing horns from the north that signaled the arrival of Dale’s outriders. Elstan, First Captain of Dale, rode at the head of the army. He greeted the fellowship and bid them to join him as he pursued the routed army. Gladly, the fellowship mounted their horses and chased down the last of the Gibbet King’s forces alongside Elstan and King Bard’s forces. It was a glorious conclusion to what had been a terrible battle of desperation.
Afterwards, as the army tended to their wounded and prepared to make the return journey to Dale, Bard took the time to thank the fellowship for undertaking what they knew could be a march to their deaths. Although there was no time for pleasantries, he promised to give them a hero’s return in Dale once the city was restored to order. The next day, at his request, they joined Bard at the head of the army as it began its victorious march home towards Dale.
Alaric’s Tale: Spent his time at the festivities in Dale with Ashryn, further building their relationship. Competed in the Horse-riding, Strength, and Grand Melee competitions. Did not win any of them. Tending to the poisoned revelers at the feast. Treated the wounded at Celduin. Held the bridge against innumerable orcs, wolves, and trolls. Wounded the hill-troll twice. Received ten Treasure as reward for holding the bridge at Celduin.
Calithilon’s Tale: Spent his time at the festival alone. Competed against Galia in the Archery competition but lost in the last round. Entered and lost the Horse-riding competition. Directed the archers and manned the toll house during the Battle of Celduin. Scouted the enemy forces. Spent two Hope to activate the Cloak of the Moon twice during the battle. Received ten Treasure as reward for holding the bridge at Celduin.
Hergar’s Tale: Manned a stall with Rúna in the Market Square selling pots of honey from his apiary. Business was slow. Competed in the Horse-riding competition and lost. Competed in the test of Strength and the Grand Melee, winning both and humiliating Gerold the Beorning! Granted +3 Tolerance on all encounters in the Dalelands for the next year. Retrieve the raven’s message from the Running River. Held the bridge at Celduin against endless tides of orcs, wolves, and trolls. Received ten Treasure as reward for holding the bridge at Celduin.
Rolf’s Tale: Used his time at the festival to entertain and build a relationship with Hannah. Competed in and lost the Horse-riding competition. Made it to the final round of the Grand Melee against Hergar and yielded. Captured Sigdan. Rallied the people of Celduin to fight. Inspired his company throughout two long nights of battle. Received ten Treasure as reward for holding the bridge at Celduin.
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