(I'm posting this account of our run through The Marsh Bell for a friend who, while an active reader here, doesn't have a posting account.)

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Our group recently started TOR, and completed the introductory scenario over the course of two evening sessions. Since everyone who has played TOR is essentially familiar with this adventure, it would have seemed pointless to post this.

However, because of a few very unique things that happened to our company during this adventure, I wanted to share this report.
I've written it as a letter from my character, a dwarf, to Gloin, as an official account of the events. It's first person perspective, so it doesn't give a fair treatment to all the things the other pcs did, nor did I cover every detail, because it is already longer than I first intended.

So without further delay...


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Esgaroth
Residence of the Illustrious Envoy for the King under the Mountain


To the esteemed Gloín, son of Groín —
May your beard grow ever longer.


As requested, for the purposes of austerity, under the council of your scribe, I present my account of the events of these last two weeks.

Before I can begin, I must apologize, but I must give some context, which I’m afraid will prove lengthy. In the midst of your preparations for the Gathering of the Five Armies, and your worries over Balin and Oín, and in our haste and eagerness to aid you, I’m afraid that we could not give you proper introductions, nor explain why our strange company decided to work together.

To begin, I have lived in Erebor for five years, and before that, with distant relatives and friends under King Daín, in the Iron Hills. And further before that, I came across the great distances of Eriador and Wilderland from my own people in Ered Luin.

I met young Reinald in Dale a couple of years after living and working my smith-craft at Erebor. The young Barding had little interest in becoming a smith himself, but I took him as an apprentice (of sorts) because I found him entirely likeable. He saw that I had become a successful businessman in my endeavours, and being full of ambition and ideas, he wanted to become a rich and (unlike myself) famous businessman. He easily persuaded me to help him –not only because he was simply a gifted teller of tales—but because he came from a well-off family and had a good name. Somehow, people from all over Dale and even further had heard of him, though of which deeds they had heard, I could not begin to guess.

In the fall of 2945, I made a trip round the north of Mirkwood into the Anduin Vales. I had always secretly hoped to make a safer road between Ered Luin and Erebor (and especially on the Wilderland side of the Mountains); so that the Dwarves might be more easily connected in trade and grow the strength of their kingdoms. I learned two things on this journey – first, that I would never attempt such a trip on my own again (what a folly!), and that in order to open a trade route that was most efficient, it would likely need to go down the Old Forest Road. While in the Anduin Vales I hired a Woodsman named Evoric to be my guide on the journey home, and to help as I figured some way to make this trade route happen.

Evoric has his own story to tell, but I shall tell of what I know. His village was, or is rather, greatly struggling with drought, which is what initially attracted him to my offer of a lucrative job. Furthermore, he carries a burden on his shoulders – the details aren’t known to me, but he seems to have a deep grief and anger… it is likely a quest for vengeance. Let us hope it is against Orcs and not some other folk —Aule’s curse upon them!

In Esgaroth, we chanced upon four interesting fellows (though nowadays all kinds of interesting folk make their way through this city!); two Beornings, a Halfling, and an Elf. The young Hobbit, Hob Greenhand, had just made his way from the South Farthing. He was, and is, hoping to find a new outlet for his family’s Longbottom Leaf. Balderic, the younger Beorning, had apparently fished him out of the Anduin and saved his life along his eastward journey. Why he followed Hob to Esgaroth was beyond me, at least at the time. Later I would learn that his older cousin Brunhilda, a she-beorning, was the one who had wanted to go with the hobbit. She said her reasons for leaving the Vales were to be blamed on restlessness. I think her love for the halfling’s “wares” may have influenced her more than anything. Admittedly, she didn’t try hard to hide the fact. Naturally she was interested in seeing more trade occur through the Anduin Vales, not only because it would mean more tolls for the Beornings, but also because she would have a much easier time getting a hold of the beloved leaf.

I don’t remember why the Elf joined them, though I suppose he had his own secret reasons as Elves do. It was very strange to meet this party in Esgaroth. Stranger still, and the reason I even spoke to them, is that Hob was asking for a man by the name of Reinald. He even pronounced it “Ree-in-nal-duh” in a certain way that made me turn my head. Reinald is quite particular about how you say his name. Most definitely he would correct you, whether you said it correctly or not! It would have been awfully annoying to have him as a friend, but the man was simply too likeable. What I’d give for a friend to correct with such compulsion like that now.

When I heard for whom Hob had come all this way to call upon (indeed he had heard rumours of a great businessman of Dale named “Ree-in-nal-duh” all the way in Bree), I offered to go at once to Dale and to bring him. I knew that the chance in all the wide world for a young hobbit to ask a passerby Dwarf this question, a Dwarf who was friends with the very man he was looking for, was quite a small chance indeed. I already wanted Reinald to meet Evoric, as the Barding was dreaming (as usual) for a business opportunity in Mirkwood. And of course who wouldn’t want to meet someone who had traveled hundreds of miles to meet you?
And while I was in Erebor to pick up Reinald, I was given a letter by my mentor Ori, who said it was for his cousin Gloín, and to bring it to him at once.

Upon returning to Esgaroth, we shared our stories. It quickly became evident we had many a hope in common—mostly a great desire for the increased profit of each of our peoples, through securing control of the roads of Wilderland, and the establishment of trading posts.

We then came to your house… well, you know the rest and no need for further detail here.

We started our journey down the Long Lake and the Running River. I remember distinctly two things at the beginning – first, that Reinald had recently dreamt of drowning (which he thoughtfully shared just as we were swiftly down Long Lake on the boat you generously provided for us) and had a sense of doom and woe because of it. Second, I remember that it came to Hob’s mind the words of an old halfling poem (prompted by an old portage man) that were silly but proved to be quite dreadful in the end.

After a few mishaps on the water (a lack of control by my inexperienced hands, and a foolhardy attempt to show-off by Reinald who was actually very good at guiding boats), we were finally back on course, until our run-in with a patrol of Elvenking’s folk, who were very cantankerous, at no surprise to you I’m sure. They had indeed seen Balin and Oín, but offered us no help in finding them. In fact the Elf, Beriadan, wasn’t even able to convince them to take us further downriver. But I’m not surprised—once an Elf gets an idea in his head, nothing will budge it, not even friendly words of a friend.

But perhaps I speak a bit harshly, as Reinald may have had a part to play in the Elves reluctance to help—he was so confident and eager to share his new commercial ideas for Mirkwood, he even tried to convince them to join him as business partners and asked about buying Elven bows. Yes, it was naive. But you would have loved his audacity.

(Master Gloín, to set things straight about Elves however, I wouldn’t normally consider company with them. But Beriadan was helpful in our adventure to come and seemed to have a knowledge and interest in improving the outlook of Mirkwood’s roadways as well, so I am thankful he was there, now that we are through the ordeal. Well . . . most of us anyway.)

We soon found an abandoned camp, which we were fairly certain was the camp of the missing Dwarves.
It was getting late, so we decided to make camp in the same spot, which – upon reflection – may have been an oversight. Certainly Balin and Oín wouldn’t abandon good gear for their journey if it was indeed a good camp.
Nevertheless, we made a fire, our two hunters Evoric and Balderic went to see what they could find in the hopes of eat something other than trail rations, and Brunhilda quickly fell asleep. What surprised me, but you sir would have no doubt expected, was to see a shadowy bear walk away from our camp soon thereafter. I had heard such tales before of a bear that followed your company at night, but never imagined I’d see it myself. Well, the bear was heading toward a light out in the distance that we saw; some were saying it could be the two missing Dwarves; I was more doubtful, as I believe they would have approached us seeing our fire and hearing our voices (we were in no way acting stealthily). Nevertheless, the bear continued forward as we watched it closely.

Suddenly, out of the water, a huge troll sprang up and swung a large tree trunk at the bear. Though the bear was caught by surprise, the troll somehow missed! With that, the rest of the party (Hob, Reinald, Beriadan and I) charged into battle. At this point, when Brunhilda did not wake up, I realized that she was indeed the bear! From the beginning, Reinald and myself (and the bear) stayed right in the troll’s face – my intention was to know it picked a poor time and enemy to attack. And surely the helm of my forefather’s—made in the likeness of the helm of Telchar—helped cause fear in the heart of the enemy. Brave Reinald was successful in his attempts as well, and within a minute or two, our enemy was clearly already looking for a way out of the fight*. Our two friends who had been hunting (successfully at least) finally heard the cries of battle, and jumped into the fray. With the combined blows of our companions and the lack of desire to continue, the troll was clearly having a difficult time. Though, I should say, a few of us, too, were forced to duck down or fall back, as it swung that massive club. It seemed that it might never tire, but finally, our bear (who had yet to be hit by any of the troll’s attacks!) swung and connected directly upon the throat of the creature, killing it in one blow.**
I searched the camp for more signs of the dwarves, and found the official invitation to the Eagles that Balin and Oín had been sent to deliver. I put it in my pocket for safekeeping, as the beauty of the gem within the box was such that I was concerned my companions might become covetous. But you now have it, or rather, I hope King of the Eagles has received it by now.
This unexpected turn of events was very exhausting, and we were ready to turn in for the night.

We found the dwarves’ tracks going inland, along a dark and dank river coming out of Mirkwood. It was harder and harder to follow them, as the marshes grew deeper. We had to slog our way through, but with enough of us searching for signs, we were able to keep the trail. Thankfully, one of the company had their wits about them too, and noticed the gallows-weed before it got a serious hold on Brunhilda, as she walked directly below it. She looked up in time to see it, and draw her knife, but was not quick enough to stop it from grabbing her arm. She was thankfully able to slash herself free before it got worse.

Before the water got too deep for me to continue, our path finally started to ascend, as we came to a lightly forested area, where we found the last remains of a ruined town of men (perhaps Numenorian? I do not know), and a round, dark, pool, next to a particularly large ruined hall.
We saw two sets of tracks leading directly into the pool.

Suddenly, we heard a soft bell in the distance, or it may have been nearby, but muffled. I was at once enchanted by the sound and longed to hear it once again. Two of my fellow travelers felt the same, Reinald and Evoric, while the rest of the party managed to resist its devious rings. Once it had sounded, I knew the bell lay in the pool and there also lay my fate. The three of us, enchanted, approached the pool. Thankfully, Balderic dove and knocked me to the ground, where I quickly awoke to my senses. The other two had already walked into the waters and could not be stopped. It was hard to not despair, to think our two companions had walked to their doom; yet, there was no other choice – I had to follow them in. Brunhilda felt the same way, so the two of us quickly started following. While I lacked caution, Brunhilda (especially on the advice of the Elf, who I would mention to you, seemed quite nervous about our heading into the water) used a little more prudence and tied a rope to herself. We both quickly found that after the passage went under water a short ways, it quickly came back up into an underground room, opening into a vast chamber.

Reinald and Evoric lay on the ground in a stupor, and no amount of stirring changed their state. Finally, we were joined by Hob, Balderic, and at last Beriadan. It occurred to me to try to sing a song, but it came out as gruff and rather depressing in that dark place. Thankfully, our merry halfling saw what I was hoping to do and sang a tune which not only lifted our spirits, but awoke our friends from enchantment.

Evoric quickly took action, sneaking through the great hall. He was incredibly quiet, until he decided, once he reached the far end, to pull on the rope hanging there (none of us could see exactly what happened, due to the length of the hall… we all suddenly heard the bell, much louder than before). It wasn’t long after that when we could hear the squishing sound of feet coming from the side passages. We ran into the hall, and were attacked by a dozen marsh creatures! They were small, humanoid, yet strangely amphibian, and terrible. Reinald charged forward, as did a few others, and quickly took out several of them. In this dark place, I admit, my heart was full of fear, and while I would normally never avoid battle, I decided I had to find Balin and Oín, in case there were more of those creatures than we could handle.

The first passage I chanced to go down was perhaps the worst option possible. Fortune was not with me. It quickly changed from the ruined, wet, stone floors to a cave, and then a wooden door that creaked loudly as I opened it. There, behind the door and in the middle of a pool was a vast treasure. A small part of me rejoiced to see it, but knowing what surely lurked in the darkness beyond, and the thought of your brother and cousin still being there helped me to turn and run back. (Perhaps we should send a large contingent there at some point to recover the treasure?). Before I left the cave, however, I suddenly saw glowing eyes turn at once to look at me – many hundreds that could not be counted. By the time I arrived to the company, they had dispatched the creatures and were gathering themselves. I yelled that we must find the dwarves and run, yet the party seemed to not hear me, with each going this way and that. In the chaos I did see that Beriadan and Brunhilda held back near the entrance, urging the others to leave.

Near the room of the bell tower, Reinald entered a passageway that seemed to be an old wine cellar; I entered the passageway across from him, with strange-colored stones around the threshold. Reinald found sleeping dens of the creatures, and was immediately attacked once again. I thankfully found another closed door, and banged upon it, asking if there be any who were behind it. Beyond my hopes, the door opened to your brother and Balin, who agreed that we must quickly escape. We ran to the rope, and the two of them began to climb as I held it steady. Evoric had already joined Reinald to help fight off the marsh-dwellers, as the rest of the party tried to run from the horde of creatures that poured out from the cave. After much trouble, I finally managed to climb the rope, along with Brunhilda, Balderic, and the elf whose patience had enabled the others he was with to go first. At this point, Evoric and Reinald were having trouble breaking away from the hungry creatures descending upon them. Evoric managed to get to the rope, but didn’t have the strength to climb. Reinald could not seem to break free, and though he felled many of the horrible creatures, they began to surround him.

And here is where I realized I had failed my apprentice and friend. In my hurry to help Balin and Oín, I did not ensure the one to whom I was responsible to protect was safe. We clearly saw that unless we pulled Evoric up, he too would be in grave danger, and so we pulled him, hoping against hope that Reinald could last long enough to snatch the rope once we could lower it again.

But before a moment had passed, one of those cursed things managed to wound him terribly, and he fell underneath the throng and passed into shadow.

Reinald was a brave warrior, who gave his very life to rescue Balin and Oín. We owe him and his family a great debt, not least of all I. Let this account be preserved, that Reinald and his brave deeds be not forgotten. While he may have been known as a teller of tales in his life, eager and ambitious to do good things yet to be done, let it be known that he was indeed heroic in the tales of Middle Earth. And let a weregild be collected for his family, first from my own purse.

I’m afraid my letter has grown too long, and you will not have the time for it. At the very least, a scribe should make copies of this record, to keep in the Dwarven histories of Esgaroth, and one for the Barding histories in Dale. It is the least we can do to preserve the memory of valiant Reinald.
In the optimism of youth must we renew our hope, lest our hearts fall into shadow.

Most respectfully,

Thalin, son of Loní, of Urí’s Folk

Spring 2946
Erebor


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*Over the course of 3 rounds, my Dwarf and the Barding used Intimidate, with a Success/Great Success for the Dwarf, and an Extraordinary Success for the Barding, reducing the troll’s hate to 0, rendering him Weary

**Our Beorning was a "Night-Goer" and used the dagger skill (brawling rules) for attacks (only 1 skill rank)... and yet she managed a piercing blow against the troll, which then failed its protection test!

Nicely written, and I enjoyed it very much -- O anonymous author.

A fine tribute to Reinald -- even if I couldn't stop calling him Ree-in-nal-duh throughout, once I'd read that. I'm raising a cup of mead to toast his memory!

Cheers,
--Os.

Thanks Osric,

I am indeed the author of this session report. And finally I've been able to register here, after being a reader since probably TOR came out.
I was also the LM for our 2-night "pre-TOR" zombie adventure, when we weren't quiet ready to start, but wanted to learn the system... so we used the conversion that someone posted here:
TOR Zombie Session 1
TOR Zombie Session 2

Our group now has (in place of Ree-in-nal-duh) an Elf... who is a pacifist! The Elf wears heavy armor, is well studied in warfare (high Battle skill), but is afraid or refuses to wield any weapons (Distinctive feature: "Merciful").

I'm not sure how Tolkien it is to have an Elf who doesn't fight, but as our LM says, "the special snowflakes melt the fastest!"