Year 2950: A Darkness in the Marshes

[Modest_Proposal]

Cecil Brandybuck

Title

"Mmm, that makes sense. Esgaroth does not hold many of your people. But I when I did see them, they were often walking in pairs or as a small group. I, for one, try to make all know they are welcome. We are all people's of Middle Earth. All should feel welcome where they tread," she replied to Cecil, still holding the bright smile.

 

Lachiel could tell the subject of family was perhaps a sore spot for the little Hobbit. Elves lived for so long that many grievances, misunderstandings, and things left unsaid could be worked out. She wouldn't press him further.

 

The Elf blushed a bit at Cecil's kind words. "Elves experience time differently, from the stories I've gathered. We can go many years alone without the loneliness that oft accompanies it. I believe it lies in the expectation that there is always more time to fix what may be broken or burdened."

 

Looking to Dahr-ol and Gramtyng, Lachiel giggled. "I do agree, Master Brandybuck--they look like a good dance would do their spirits good, though perhaps not their weary bones."

Title

"Back in the Mark, it was less dances and more song... Though we'd not shy away from them at festivals. As a bard, you got to know these sort of things regardless if you liked em or not."

“Not many Hobbits I know like to tread much of anywhere, Brandybucks, included. The Brandywine bridge might as well be guarded by a sleeping dragon.” Cecil snarled, curling his manicured fingers into a claw.

He was glad to see Gramtyng crack a smile, though he was taken aback at the keen senses of the man to have heard them. He tried to imagine the life of an elf, without loneliness or wasted time, where a friend was never more than a distance away. 

 

Five days from Mountain Hall…

 

As the fields turned to hills, Cecil no longer could shake off the previous days’ travel. He became slower cresting the hills which rose like waves against the mountainside.

“Tell me, Gramtyng. Have you ever… seen people like me in these hills? Not traveling, not on the road. Just wandering about? Or perhaps you’ve seen some hollowed dens?”

 

Three days from Mountains hall…

 

A fit of weariness crept over Cecil. His eyes had darkened and every morning he felt stiffer and less agreeable. His hands were still raw from paddling and he was careful not to twist his walking stick, lest he remember it. Needless detours had delayed them at least half a day from a soft bed. Whenever Lachiel or Barin heard the rustle of a squirrel or so on, they would stop and fetch Lachiel. Endless hours of skulking. They could have been to the warm hearted Woodman Hall and across the bridge in less time than this. 

He’d hoped that Banna leaving would have helped things, but Barin was determined. It seemed like everyday, morning broke a little bit sooner. As Gramtyng sounded the morning call, Cecil batted his hand and covered his face.

“Why? The sun is not even over the hills. Let me have a little rest. Please. Some rest. If you cannot find time for a little peace, at least let me enjoy mine! Why must we be endlessly writhing about like this, without any decency?”

The night had not rested him. If anything, it wore on him in lost dreams. He knew what was to come. The foothills were creeping ever steeper and he knew his feet would bleed this day.

 

OOC:

Cecil will prioritize being in the center of the party and as near Lachiel as will allow him.

 

 

Edited July 10, 2023 by Modest_Proposal (see edit history)

[Diofant]

Gramtyng, son of Fastred

---

Riders of RohanThe Men of the Mark are a generous folk, but when war is upon them, then they are fell to their enemies as they are loyal to their friends. When the lust of battle is on them, they appear as men stricken with grief, their faces deathly white, or as madmen ready to laugh at despair. The Riders of Rohan may enter a battle-fury if they roll an 11 or 12 on any attack or Protection roll. When this happens, they may choose to gain a point of Shadow, to add one Success die (up to a maximum of 6) to all their close combat attack rolls until the end of the battle.

Minstrel of the Golden Hall The history of Rohan is not written in any book or tome. Instead it is secreted in the verses of those songs you were taught by your mother and father. You have sung for the living and the dead, and your voice has filled even the Golden Hall of Meduseld. But new deeds worthy of song occur each day as a darkness gathers and you would be there to witness them first-hand and weave them into legend.
Basic Attributes: Body 5. Heart 5. Wits 4.
Favoured Skill: Song | Standard of Living: MartialIndividuals belonging to a Martial culture often live according to their status in the military hierarchy, with simple warriors and soldiers sleeping together in a common area; probably as part of the household of a renowned chieftain or noble. Meals are usually consumed in large halls, with seats and tables arranged to observe rules of precedence or respect. Clothing reflects the military status of an individual as well, or that of his family.

Martial player-heroes have enough resources to look after themselves, and to pay for such things as simple accommodation and meals. Ever mindful of the cost of any luxury, they often lead an austere life, or resort to haggling to lower the price of whatever they are trying to get hold of.| Calling"Speak no secrets! Here is a scholar in the Ancient Tongue."
For you, knowledge makes the wild world a less threatening place to live in. Strangers become friends if addressed properly, yellowed maps in lost books replace a fear of the unknown with curiosity and wonder of places you have yet to explore, songs composed in ages past strengthen the weariest of hearts. A love of learning guides your every step, and illuminates the way for you and those who listen to your advice.
Favoured Skill Groups: Perception, Vocation
Trait: Rhymes of Lore
Shadow Weakness: Lure of Secrets
"The roots of those mountains must be roots indeed; there must be great secrets buried there which have not been discovered since the beginning."
Inquisitiveness and curiosity are desirable virtues in an individual, but knowledge can be put to malicious use and learned individuals can look down on others as ignorant fools. Secrets are dangerous, as the very desire of uncovering them may corrupt the heart.| TraitsMinistrelsy ☐
Story-Telling ☐
Rhymes of Lore ☐
Hero of the Woodmen ☐
Fair ☐
Reckless(Mastery) ☐
▣ | AP: 1Personality: ✧✧✧
Movement: ✦✦✧
Perception: ✧✧✧
Survival: ✧✧✧
Custom: ✧✧✧
Vocation: ✦✦✧
✦✧ | XP: 55(62) | DP: 0No Challenges Yet.

---

Valour: 4Ancient Mail from Gondor(Mail) - lets you Rally Comrades from Forward Stance and allowed to attack(Found).

Horsetail Helm - Standing +1. When fighting on horseback or foot in Forward Stance, if you roll a Gandalf, you receive a bonus success die you can spend on any future rolls or give to a companion(From Heruthain).

Raging - quality unlock for Cenegeslit. | Wisdom: 4Old Songs and Children's Tales - When you roll a success on Inspire, Travel, Insight, Healing, Riddle, Lore check Song rating, if it is same or higher, then upgrade the quality of the success up by one: Normal->Great->Extraordinary. If the roll produced Gandalf rune, gain 1 point of Hope, once per session.

Household Esquire: Add an extra die to preparation rolls: Lore, Battle, and Insight when preparing for Journey/Combat/Social. Max 6 dice. Squire can also recover horse, bring spare weapon or shield if you drop or are disarmed, will carry you from field of battle if knocked down.

Ominous Blessing: Born in the shadow of Dwimorberg. When you roll a Sauron, can change it into a Gandalf for 1 shadow point. Luck turns and favors you but someone suffers. | End: 27/27 | Load: 15 | Fatigue: 2 [+1] | Hope: 12/14 | Shadow: 6 [0] | Parry: 6 | Weary: No | Miserable: No |Wound: No

---

Skills: Body 5 (8)+Awe ▣▣☐☐☐☐
Athletics ▣▣▣▣☐☐
Awareness ▣☐☐☐☐☐
Explore ▣☐☐☐☐☐
+Song ▣▣▣▣☐☐
Craft ▣☐☐☐☐☐ | Heart 5 (7)Inspire ▣▣▣☐☐☐
Travel ▣▣▣☐☐☐
+Insight ▣▣▣☐☐☐
Healing☐☐☐☐☐☐
Courtesy ▣▣☐☐☐☐
Battle ▣▣☐☐☐☐| Wits 4 (5)Persuade ☐☐☐☐☐☐
Stealth ☐☐☐☐☐☐
Search ☐☐☐☐☐☐
Hunting ▣▣▣☐☐☐
Riddle ▣☐☐☐☐☐
+Lore ▣▣▣☐☐☐ | WeaponsSwords ▣▣▣▣☐☐
Bow ▣▣▣☐☐☐
Dagger ▣☐☐☐☐☐ | War GearWeapon | Damage | Edge | Injury | Notes | Enc
Sword 5 8 16 Ancient Keen 2
Bow 5 10 14 N/A 1

Armour/Shield | Protection | Parry | Enc
Mail 3d 12(6)
Helm +4 2
Shield +2 3 | EquipmentTreasure: 7
War Gear: Mail Shirt, Helm, Shield
Leasere: Radhors
Mab's Liquor(3)
Elven-Crafted Horse Reins
Durin the Seeker
Radagast's Tome. | SongsSong of Mourning(Tome) ☐
Battle-Song ☐
▣

---

OOC: Gramtyng sticks to the front of the group.

---

"Not around these parts, master Holbytla. In truth, before I came to these parts, I thought your people a fairy tale. But then I've adventured with two since..." He paused for a moment. "Ah, no; I lie. There was an old abandoned hobbit hole, nearby the Wolven Wood. We hid ourselves in it... Feels like half a lifetime ago."

---

Hearing Barin, the bard shook his head: "Funny, how something can mean different things to different folks..." Gramtyng spoke, to nobody in particular. "To me, mountains remind me of the time I was heading alone over Red Pass, on my way to Rhovanion... Or worse. How much nonsense had filled my head at the time, its shameful to think of. Nearly died. Would have died, if not for Hartfast." The bard sighed, then turned to Dahr-Ol, addressing him directly for the first time: "Dont bother. Even if there's an elven fortress, the Dwimmerhorn aint stationary. It migrates through the Gladden swamps. Cant use anything as staging point." He spat. "Accursed mountain... The name it bears mirrors the tongue of the roots of my people. Phantom-Fang, they called it. I was born under its twin's shadow."

---

OOC/Actions/Rolls

 

Edited July 10, 2023 by Diofant (see edit history)

[thesloth]

Dahr-Ol was quiet for a moment, considering Gramtyng's answer. "The name mirrors that of a sister peak? In an ancient tongue? What of this sister peak? What tales are told of it? Mayhap there is something we can learn about the Dwimmerhorn"

[Vladim]

The company had split into two groups. Dahr-Ol, Lachiel, Barin and Gramtyng had taken the lead, to either scout ahead or be on the lookout for danger. Not too far behind, Cecil was with the others. Some amongst that latter group had bows that were strung and ready: if necessary, they could at a moment's notice shoot at enemies or beasts, though presently there was no sign of such dangers.

They had put the ascent on hold for the time being, taking a moment to rest and discuss amongst themselves before pushing onwards. When at length they had finished their conversations, they split up again, and begun climbing, the bulk of the company in single file almost.

The Misty Mountains were familiar territory for Dahr-Ol, who found paths as best he could, so that even the least experienced amongst them could make the climb. At a distance he saw Lachiel, and at once he sensed their imminent danger...

 

 

OOC

I've added some private text to @thesloth for Dahr-Ol. Mechanically, I'll update -1 Hope for Dahr-Ol (done). I haven't done private text before, so if there's a glitch, let me know! But no biggie anyway if you can see it.

I tried to make sense of positioning as best I could but given that mostly everyone wants to be ahead, I wrote the above as I did. Hope it makes sense!

[thesloth]

Dahr-Ol had been climbing the hills above the Anduin headwaters since he could walk. This hillside was thick with the shifting gravel men called scree. He turned to check on the the scouting party, small stones shifted as they climbed but he feared worst for Lachiel. The scree seemed loosest beneath her.

Fearing injury more than orc attack he called in hoarse whisper that felt too loud as it left his throat, "Lachiel, ware the scree, I see it shifting beneath you..."

[Diofant]

Gramtyng, son of Fastred

---

Riders of RohanThe Men of the Mark are a generous folk, but when war is upon them, then they are fell to their enemies as they are loyal to their friends. When the lust of battle is on them, they appear as men stricken with grief, their faces deathly white, or as madmen ready to laugh at despair. The Riders of Rohan may enter a battle-fury if they roll an 11 or 12 on any attack or Protection roll. When this happens, they may choose to gain a point of Shadow, to add one Success die (up to a maximum of 6) to all their close combat attack rolls until the end of the battle.

Minstrel of the Golden Hall The history of Rohan is not written in any book or tome. Instead it is secreted in the verses of those songs you were taught by your mother and father. You have sung for the living and the dead, and your voice has filled even the Golden Hall of Meduseld. But new deeds worthy of song occur each day as a darkness gathers and you would be there to witness them first-hand and weave them into legend.
Basic Attributes: Body 5. Heart 5. Wits 4.
Favoured Skill: Song | Standard of Living: MartialIndividuals belonging to a Martial culture often live according to their status in the military hierarchy, with simple warriors and soldiers sleeping together in a common area; probably as part of the household of a renowned chieftain or noble. Meals are usually consumed in large halls, with seats and tables arranged to observe rules of precedence or respect. Clothing reflects the military status of an individual as well, or that of his family.

Martial player-heroes have enough resources to look after themselves, and to pay for such things as simple accommodation and meals. Ever mindful of the cost of any luxury, they often lead an austere life, or resort to haggling to lower the price of whatever they are trying to get hold of.| Calling"Speak no secrets! Here is a scholar in the Ancient Tongue."
For you, knowledge makes the wild world a less threatening place to live in. Strangers become friends if addressed properly, yellowed maps in lost books replace a fear of the unknown with curiosity and wonder of places you have yet to explore, songs composed in ages past strengthen the weariest of hearts. A love of learning guides your every step, and illuminates the way for you and those who listen to your advice.
Favoured Skill Groups: Perception, Vocation
Trait: Rhymes of Lore
Shadow Weakness: Lure of Secrets
"The roots of those mountains must be roots indeed; there must be great secrets buried there which have not been discovered since the beginning."
Inquisitiveness and curiosity are desirable virtues in an individual, but knowledge can be put to malicious use and learned individuals can look down on others as ignorant fools. Secrets are dangerous, as the very desire of uncovering them may corrupt the heart.| TraitsMinistrelsy ☐
Story-Telling ☐
Rhymes of Lore ☐
Hero of the Woodmen ☐
Fair ☐
Reckless(Mastery) ☐
▣ | AP: 1Personality: ✧✧✧
Movement: ✦✦✧
Perception: ✧✧✧
Survival: ✧✧✧
Custom: ✧✧✧
Vocation: ✦✦✧
✦✧ | XP: 55(62) | DP: 0No Challenges Yet.

---

Valour: 4Ancient Mail from Gondor(Mail) - lets you Rally Comrades from Forward Stance and allowed to attack(Found).

Horsetail Helm - Standing +1. When fighting on horseback or foot in Forward Stance, if you roll a Gandalf, you receive a bonus success die you can spend on any future rolls or give to a companion(From Heruthain).

Raging - quality unlock for Cenegeslit. | Wisdom: 4Old Songs and Children's Tales - When you roll a success on Inspire, Travel, Insight, Healing, Riddle, Lore check Song rating, if it is same or higher, then upgrade the quality of the success up by one: Normal->Great->Extraordinary. If the roll produced Gandalf rune, gain 1 point of Hope, once per session.

Household Esquire: Add an extra die to preparation rolls: Lore, Battle, and Insight when preparing for Journey/Combat/Social. Max 6 dice. Squire can also recover horse, bring spare weapon or shield if you drop or are disarmed, will carry you from field of battle if knocked down.

Ominous Blessing: Born in the shadow of Dwimorberg. When you roll a Sauron, can change it into a Gandalf for 1 shadow point. Luck turns and favors you but someone suffers. | End: 27/27 | Load: 15 | Fatigue: 2 [+1] | Hope: 12/14 | Shadow: 6 [0] | Parry: 6 | Weary: No | Miserable: No |Wound: No

---

Skills: Body 5 (8)+Awe ▣▣☐☐☐☐
Athletics ▣▣▣▣☐☐
Awareness ▣☐☐☐☐☐
Explore ▣☐☐☐☐☐
+Song ▣▣▣▣☐☐
Craft ▣☐☐☐☐☐ | Heart 5 (7)Inspire ▣▣▣☐☐☐
Travel ▣▣▣☐☐☐
+Insight ▣▣▣☐☐☐
Healing☐☐☐☐☐☐
Courtesy ▣▣☐☐☐☐
Battle ▣▣☐☐☐☐| Wits 4 (5)Persuade ☐☐☐☐☐☐
Stealth ☐☐☐☐☐☐
Search ☐☐☐☐☐☐
Hunting ▣▣▣☐☐☐
Riddle ▣☐☐☐☐☐
+Lore ▣▣▣☐☐☐ | WeaponsSwords ▣▣▣▣☐☐
Bow ▣▣▣☐☐☐
Dagger ▣☐☐☐☐☐ | War GearWeapon | Damage | Edge | Injury | Notes | Enc
Sword 5 8 16 Ancient Keen 2
Bow 5 10 14 N/A 1

Armour/Shield | Protection | Parry | Enc
Mail 3d 12(6)
Helm +4 2
Shield +2 3 | EquipmentTreasure: 7
War Gear: Mail Shirt, Helm, Shield
Leasere: Radhors
Mab's Liquor(3)
Elven-Crafted Horse Reins
Durin the Seeker
Radagast's Tome. | SongsSong of Mourning(Tome) ☐
Battle-Song ☐
▣

---

"Dwimorberg." Gramtyng looked away. "Center peak of the White Mountains, which shadows the valley of Harrowdale, where I was born." The horselord sighed and re-adjusted the scabbard with Cenegestlit. "Those born in the shadow of the Haunted-Mountain often have a... twisted sense of luck. But, have it or not, you can still often times feel eyes boring into your back, an when you look, there's nothing there." In the Mark, there were those that called those born in the shadow of the mountain cursed and steered clear of them, but he wasnt going to bring that up.

---

OOC/Actions/Rolls

 

[Malkavian Grin]

Nodding along to Barin's explanations, Lachiel wore a smile. It was nice to hear the story of the Dwarven people. It was not one she knew well at all.

 

"You speak of Erebor with such reverence, perhaps I should see it too. If for nothing else, to see a marvel of the world. I suppose I am fortunate enough to have stayed near my home for so long. But, while Mirkwood does have its secrets, I yearn to see what lies beyond."

 

Dahr-Ol's question took Lachiel a bit by surprise. "As a collector of stories, I've heard things here and there. But it is far-removed from Mirkwood, so I do not know all of it. As many know, the Necromancer that fled Dol Guldur is likely still alive--or what passes for life. When he left, he had to go somewhere. Many think he fled to the Gladden Fields. While I am keen to see the beauty of the fens, I am weary of Dwimmerhorn, for it may be the Necromancer's new home."

 

She pondered further as they walked. "Do you speak of Lothlorien? Strange for a Human to know of it. But, no, it is not a fortress so much as it is well-hidden--much the same as my realm in Mirkwood. But, yes, they do exist--many leagues to the south. But I am sure you would have to do a great deed for them first, before any help would be offered. The Galadhrim--tree-people you call them--trust few in recent times and I've not heard that they travel outside Lothlorien anymore. More likely, we would be turned away--either with stern words or with a flurry of arrows."

 

She sighed but did not seem distraught. "We shall have to rely on our own strength, for now."

 

Later, as the group split again, Dahr-Ol warned Lachiel of the loose stone beneath her. True, she'd had a bit of trouble with it, but she had used her spear's butt to help steady her like a walking stick. She hoped he was just being extra cautious. All the same, she took care to step lightly...

[Vladim]

Immediate danger was averted as Dahr-Ol warned Lachiel of the treacherous scree underfoot. Council was spoken just in time for the elf to take notice and follow it, seeking more secure ground. For a while, there was silence, as Dahr-Ol suddenly became wary of his surroundings, worried that his words of warning would attract unwelcome attention. But nothing stirred in the quietness, save the wind from the west.

The days passed, and the paths begun growing more familiar to Gramtyng and Ingi and all those that had walked them before, in years prior. The stream that had its spring in the high peaks was never far from their path: a sure sign that they were on the right track. Any moment now, Mountain-Hall whould come into sight, and they could at last lay down their burdens and rest.

And so they continued, and as they begun to draw nearer their destination, they found themselves weary yet well: the journey was proving difficult but uneventful.

 

OOC

Just a short post to resolve the scene hazard, which was successfully delt with. Those unfamiliar with the system now know how it goes: on journeys, if anyone rolls an eye on a Travel check (also called fatigue check), this triggers a Hazzard, which typically necessitates a roll from one of the Travel roles (Guide, Scouts, Hunters or Look-outs). A failure means that the Hazzard takes effect, while a success avoids it.

I'll try to have something up in the next week; we will transition to the next Chapter (and scene), and the company will find themselves in Mountain-Hall. In the meanwhile, feel free to post if you want, continuing discussions and interactions and the like, but it's not mandatory, of course.

[thesloth]

"Twisted luck indeed. Gramtyng, perhaps your mountain has a cousin near Gundabad.

I've never heard a name for the place, Lachiel, though Lothlorien does have a certain quality. Makes me think of a tall forest just hearing it. The sorcerers who plague my former people would not utter the name. Many vile epithets in place of the name, when stories of old battles were told. But never the name. I just assumed it must be a mighty fortress to earn such ire. I find it odd that they trust not their own kin. Such grudge bearing can aid the Shadow if unchecked." Moving ahead as the scout, Dahr-Ol was constrained to conversing in snatches and bits as he regularly circled back to report his findings.

[Modest_Proposal]

Cecil Brandybuck

As they reached the final pass, every path felt strained. He longed for his companion and pony, who now dwelt far enough away that he might as well be grazing in the hills. But he was not trouble for his pony’s sake, for Radagast was many things (perhaps too many things,) but his tenderness for animals was principle.

Gramtyng

"Not around these parts, master Holbytla. In truth, before I came to these parts, I thought your people a fairy tale. But then I've adventured with two since..." He paused for a moment. "Ah, no; I lie. There was an old abandoned hobbit hole, nearby the Wolven Wood. We hid ourselves in it... Feels like half a lifetime ago."

“You said it again. Holbytla. Why do you call me that? When I return home, I’ll sing them songs of Holbytla’s. Tiny, brown things that they were. Fishing in the Great River.”

------

The party’s insistent talk about Dwimmerhorn and Gladden fields continued to damped his thoughts. He had dwelled on it ever since they'd passed by it. Though their journey had seen silvery greens and snow and crystal waters, he could only remember the fields in shades of grey and rot. To quell further discussion, he spoke up at first quietly, but with increasing confidence. “Dwimmerhorn moving about sounds like nonsense, if you ask me. How do you imagine it moves? More likely it's men’s boats bouncing around in the river mist, not knowing North from South. You can’t see past your nose during the worst of it. You see a miserable pile of stones and mistake it for another.”

Lothlorien. He heard Lachiel speak. In some ways preferred not to understand Elvish, for it sounded like flowing water. "Lothlorien." He said. "What is it like? In a word?"

 

Edited July 15, 2023 by Modest_Proposal (see edit history)

[Suzuki Stumpy]

Barin Greycloak

As the company made steady progress towards the mountains, there was less and less cause for Barin to point out the correct route. Primarily because the options for progression became fewer as the path climbed, but also because it was obvious that some of the companions were already familiar with the area and destination.

Thus, he took more time to converse with those he could when possible, and simply enjoying the hike, gruelling though it was.

Eventually, the paths became steep enough that he had to unlimber his axe and use it as a walking pole, it's iron-bound butt click-click-clicking against the stones and rocks of the trail. As they climbed higher, the temperature too began to drop noticeably. No snow on the ground at this height, but there was enough of a drop that his breath was beginning to become visible as he exhaled.

What had surprised him most though was that so far, there had been no sighting of Orc or goblin or wolf. He made comment on this as the scouts came back each time, reminding them to "... keep a wary eye out for servants of the enemy."

[Malkavian Grin]

"Many of my people have decided that the time of Elves is coming to an end," she replied to Dahr-Ol. A small sigh escaped her lips. "They would rather make the best of this time--which for some means ignoring all else until that time. Those of Mirkwood, however, reject the Isles to the West. We are peoples of Middle Earth, until we draw our final breath."

 

She smiled warmly at her companion. "I love this land and what it represents."

 

When little Cecil spoke his mind of wondrous magicks, Lachiel couldn't stifle her giggle. "I suppose it does sound nonsense. But in every story is a grain of truth. It may not be that the fortress itself moves, so much as the memory of those who encounter it does."

 

The challenge posed by the Hobbit was one that brought a great warmth to Lachiel's heart. "Only one word, Mr. Brandybuck? A fair question. Lothlórien is best described as Golden. I have but seen it once and only in passing. But its beauty is breathtaking and stays with me in my dreams. The only place you'll ever see a mallorn tree."

[Modest_Proposal]

Cecil Brandybuck

That evening, the sun slipped behind the Great Mountains, leaving a lid of shadow that lengthened into the fields behind. He spotted Barin setting up his nightly spot and, wanting for conversation, set his own in the nearest clearing. Although they had shared few words, he could sense a friend in him. A joint ride down the Anduin will do that to folks.

The night quieted. Cecil moved closer, offering to light his pipe and humming a fragment of a Dwarven song he knew.

“You know, I have met Dwarves before. Many more Dwarves than Men or Elves. They cross down the long green road of the Shire, bringing wondrous things with them, just wondrous…. up from their workshops. Little toy soldiers, they would - do you know them? That walk on their own feet. Bird-noise makers, too, and fireworks that rival even the Old Man himself, when he comes around, with reds that sparkled like ruby glass.” He untucked his bedroll. “When they meet you, they’re all smiles and out with toys for the children - but I must say, they are a quiet folk from you get too friendly.”

 

[Suzuki Stumpy]

Barin Greycloak

Barin leaned back against a convenient rock and sucked on his pipe stem as the Hobbit chatted. He stayed silent for a moment after Cecil had finished, then nodded. "Aye, there are some of my kin are incredibly skilled with metal and gems. Supreme craftsmen - and women - able to work metal as fine as the Elves can work mithril so it is said."

He looked at his own hands, turning them back and forth in front of him as he contemplated them. "Stone. Stone was my craft. I never was good enough to work really fine, but I can hew it better than any human stonemason. See, that's how Mahal made us. We came from the deep earth, and so we were blessed with the knowing of her gifts."

"Much of that craft is lost to us today, though many of my kin toil in the smithies below Erebor to rediscover the secrets of our ancient brethren. Still," he chuckled, "some do still have the gift."

Leaning in towards the Hobbit, he lowered his voice almost to a whisper, "I'll let you in on a secret though. There's no magic involved in those little toy soldiers. Just fine craftsmanship. If you were to open one of them up, you'd find it full of tiny springs and cogwheels. A machine of beautiful precision."

"So, tell me something of your home Master Brandybuck. You have travelled far to come East of the mountains. We see few of your kind here. Even fewer past the forest towards the lake."

[Vladim]

♫ Traveller OST-Atonement ♫

Chapter 2: The Harrowed Hall

Scene 5: The bridge of Firienseld

Time: Early summer 2950 T.A. Fifteen days since the departure from Rhosgobel. Evening.

Location: The path leading to Mountain-Hall

 

The air was cool as they neared the end of their ascent, following the winding ways which Gram and Ingi knew would take them to Mountain-Hall: Firienseld in the tongue of the Woodmen. The song of the river was their constant companion throughout. Presently, as the settlement came into sight at a distance, the song grew louder and more soothing. The noisome, icy waters churned and cascaded around the hall, surging down a gully that was shaped and widened by many years of craft. The Woodmen here-if that they could be called, dwelling so far from Mirkwood-had raised neither wall nor hedge. Firienseld needed only the natural fortification of the river and the cliffs.

At the end of their path, a narrow bridge crossed the river, leading to the knot of outbuildings and storerooms at the front of the hall. Behind the long hall itself, a watchtower rose as if in imitation of the peaks around it. The faint smell of cooking-fires wafted in the cool air: the promise of refuge and rest as night-time approached. They hastened towards the bridge, eager to complete their long journey.

As they approached it, a man emerged from behind a group of tall, carved stones, meant to ward off the evils that dwelled in the mountains. He spoke to them while they were still far, and Gramtyng and Ingi both recognized his voice, for they had heard it before. It belonged to one called Beranald: a middle-aged man, a door-warden of Mountain-Hall. His voice, clear and loud, echoed against the Misty Mountains.

"Stay where you are, strangers. Your journey has led you here to seek our hall. I see that you are warriors. I must ask who you are, in the name of Hartfast, head of the House of Mountain Hall."

With him came two others: guards, warriors of Mountain-Hall, carrying spears in their hands, and axes on their belts. These two begun to cross the bridge, nearing the company. Gramtyng knew these ones too: Brermód was the first, and Aldraeg was the second: door-wardens also, and watchmen who kept the guard upon the Burg, the small tower that served as Mountain-Hall's only fortification. They seemed better-armed than Gramtyng recalled, with helms and mail and shields, instead of leather.

The three of them had shown no sign of recognizing either Gramtyng or Ingi, or another member of the company. But the distance that separated them was still great, and it had been some years since any of those that had received hospitality by the chieftain had come here.

 

OOC

I am loathe to cut off the RP, but I think I can move this forward now. Feel free to roleplay the scene, and if you talk to the door-wardens, you can try rolling for an appropriate skill (e.g., Awe or Courtesy). Some things you say or some traits you might have may also grant automatic successes. You may also roll for Insight to gather information from subtle cues about the guards.

This scene transitions us to a new chapter, but we're still in Session 1, for determining mechanics. The only mechanical effects for this new chapter are:

• All Traits refreshed; I think only Ingi used his Boating, so that's refreshed but nothing else changes.
• All bonus Travel dice are lost.