A7 – In the Presence of a Fading Light

[Tony/Galanon and Denny/Rowlie were absent]

The battle ground has grown silent; Ladee walks among the dead looking for any sign of life he might save. He pauses over the body of a 14 year-old child warrior, kneeling to inspect the amulet around his neck. What could possibly drive someone to this end? Is the amulet a curse or force of evil control? Meanwhile, Rambler walks among the dead scrounging for possessions. He pauses over the headless body of Valter retrieving the pouch slung over his shoulder. He reaches inside finding a severed human head. 

A slight jerk as the eyes open, “Ah, you are the one Valter told me about. So human, how does it feel slaying so many of your own? Doing my bidding. For I am the one.” Rambler fortifies himself with bold responses, “You are powerless now. We have slain your emissary Valter.” But the head only chuckles, “He was only a tool. Just like you’ve been for me.”

Ladee and Rambler return to the others with their finds; Rambler first, “Hobbit, you gotta see this.” Ladee reacts with shock at seeing the severed head. Then bewilderment when the eyes open and mouth speaks, “Ah, one of your kind I haven’t seen for ages. How do you feel killing your friends? Look closely at that amulet; do you not remember the merchants’ son?” Ladee drops the head in shock as he rushes back to the child warrior; indeed, Belgo from their first journey along the elven path. Ladee slumps in despair kneeling to bless the boy with his tears.

A large shadow passes over Ladee…it is Beorn in man-form. When shown the talking head, the eyes open and the evil begins to speak. But Beorn will have none of that; he crushes the head into powder! “Words of despair have no place in MY realm.” As Beorn turns to leave back to his dwelling north, Ladee intercedes, “But what of the families left defenseless? Surely you have mercy. Orcs about.” But the short words fall on deaf ears, “Let those who invaded my lands fend for themselves. They chose this path to destruction.” Rambler too echoes the sentiment, “Fuck em.” But Brackrog supports the noble cause, “Maybe the men of Mountain Hall will offer them comfort.”

As the beornings travel north, our journey is west across the river as we first inform the families of the loss of their loved ones, “Darkness has taken your men. But fear not; we will lead you to possible shelter.” During the short rest of the tiring night (wailing for the loss of their loved ones) Ladee manages to find hagweed. As he brews the herbs, the fatigue-healing smoke weaves through the camp providing some relief among the gathering. It’s a 2 day trek south toward Mt. Hall. And chance encounter with an old man (long white beard, walking stick, and brown cloak that happens to open revealing white robes inside). He pauses in his search of the fields to offer words of encouragement. Ladee and Rambler recognize him as Saruman-the-White. 

The wizard waves his hand bestowing a blessing for us (Saruman’s Inspiration) before returning to his stooped search.

It’s a haggard rabble that stands before the gates of Mountain Hall, “Halt in the name of Hardfest.” Rambler has influence that grants us entry. The woodmen accepting the families, “We can always use labor in our mines.” The survivors more than accepting of their fate in exchange for roof and food. Offer of ale has Brackrog wetting his beard as he weaves stories of our long journeys. The tainted waters of Mirkwood and its spiders, the high pass orcs, and even the latest talking head just as the leader Hardfest joins the table. “It wasn’t the necromancer from Dol Guldur?” Conversation quickly turns to the history of the region. Opportunity for the learned loremasters to compare their knowledge of past darkness upon the land. A long night….

And a long year of fellowship gone our separate ways. The dwarf to his Lonely Mountain to purge the shadow that festers in his being. The hobbit to his Shire where he too ‘Heals Corruption’ by takes up his gardening trowel for peace and comfort. Months of happy thoughts far from the march of the Shadow beyond the Misty Mountains. A chance encounter with Gandolf-the-Grey and the dwarf Balin; come back to visit their old friend Bilbo. The dwarf excited to mention his coming efforts to reclaim his kingdom of Moria under the mountains. The wizard sharing laughs with his friend while offering a magical display of fireworks. But a somber note of goblins encroaching through the Ettenmoors and even the Cold Fells this side of the mountains.

The spring of 2949 finds the adventurers rejoining at the Easterly Inn in Beorn. The hobbit Dindy displaying more exotic goods in his shop; come from the far east per king Bard’s efforts to open the trade routes. And soon a tasker from our patron Beorn: search his borders along the northern Mirkwood per reports of wandering orc. Brackrog takes guide as Ladee scouts and Rambler hunts while keeping lookout. An easy journey to the Forest gate upon well traveled and familiar paths. Until day 2 when the scout (i.e. Survival 1) becomes hunter, setting camp at a wild boar’s dwelling!

Ladee stoops over the fire tending pots-n-pans when the snorting beast charges to reclaim his home. Rambler’s arrow goes wide as the hobbit dives toward his gear to grab his dagger. The dwarf proving his marksmanship with an arrow strike to the boars’ flank which gives the beast direction…a gore impale of the dwarf (10 HP)! Rambler flanks the enraged animal carving a critical slash across its snot blinding the beast. Ladee advances and drops the delivered bacon with a well-placed dagger strike. As the group feasts for the night, the hobbit tends the dwarf’s wounds.

It’s mid-day when Ladee spots large footprints…larger than man-size but not quit Beorn’s size. Rambler steps up to inspect but even he cannot read the signs, “More than one going north. Man or goblin I cannot tell. Probably more evil per these young saplings hacked down for no cause of impedance.” Following the easy tracks brings us to a face full of pointed arrows…elven. “Gag, dwarf smell. And me so ready for an easy kill. Yet my lady requests your presence. Come with me and be warned…you meet royalty.”

Surrounded, outnumbered, and within their lands, the group concedes. We are brought to a clearing where a tall/elegant elven woman stands beside a younger male. She dressed in white garments and veil while the male in forest green leather with bow and twin blades upon his back. “I am Legolas. This is Lady Írimë, the daughter of Finwë, from the house of Gil-galad.

She has seen you in her visions and requested audience.” The group taken back as one so noble seeking audience with US! While Legolas sneers at the dwarf, the lady is kind in her tone. “I ask you escort me across the high pass to my cousins across the way. My warriors will deal with the Mordor orc you track. Rest assured your liege Beorn’s wants will be met.” Turning to Legolas, she instructs him to journey with us by day but leave at night.

Bewilderment as we travel south along the forest edge coming to the Old Forest path within a day’s travel (while our travel north took days!). Realization maybe Lady Írimë herself hastened our travels by magical means. We stand among the trees where a glowing ball hangs shedding light upon the elven encampment. A feast laid out before us, but Rambler knowingly having us wait till she breaks bread first. Turning to Ladee she recalls, “There is another hobbit (what we call ‘Peridon’) who wanders these woods. I can feel evil consuming his soul.” Turning to Brackrog she recalls the tainted history of elf and dwarf relations over the millennia (not as accusations but as a history lesson). The night continues with bliss and light-hearted songs while the elven warriors sit sharpening their blades. Morning finds an empty camp except for the lady and us.

“So my companions, lead the way.” Brackrog takes guide, Ladee scout, and Rambler  hunter and lookout again. As we break camp, Írimë turns to the forest saying, “Goodbye Eryn Lasgalen.” Hours pass with the lady politely listening to the pestering hobbit so keen upon learning from such a scholar. Night brings her conversing with the dwarf once more, “History is but a record of the writer. Yet all nations should speak highly of the dwarven deed to rid the land of Smaug.” The hardened features of Brackrog seem to melt. The Lady turns to Rambler, “You know of an ancient one yourself. Do not be fooled by his silly manners, for Radagast is a worthy ally.” To Ladee she consoles, “Do not be worried about your voice unheard. Your actions speak louder. There is much to be learned of your enemy, but much risk.” All seem to realize Lady Írimë journeys not just to her cousins. But rather further west to Grey Haven for her sail across the seas. Brackrog tries to intercede but the Lady acknowledges, “The time of the elves has past. It is the challenge of man and others to maintain hope, for despair is but a tool of the dark ones.”

During the next day Ladee spies movement behind us. Without looking Írimë agrees, “They are hunting us. Me. More creatures of the shadow. But they will not close soon for they fear me.” We press on trying to maintain spirits despite the chase. At the nightly campfire the Lady sings of past heroes. Morning brings a short travel to the toll bridge at the Old Ford gates were we warn the guards of approaching enemy. Despite the chase the Lady is accommodating to Rambler’s request to make camp once again even though it is before noon. Ladee heartily agrees for the chance at another meal; in fact a rare day of 6 breakfastes! And once again the ancient elf recounts history of this once being a great dwarven structure able to support a marching army 10 men across. “Later made greater by the Númenóreans.”

Come morning we cross the bridge, traveling west along the well-worn path we’ve visited many times over these last years. Ladee spots a small band of orc ahead descending the hills toward us. We evade dipping into the trees hiding as they pass (15-20 Misty Mountain goblins). We continue with caution as we begin the slow climb up the mountains. Another camp of stories and history, “In Moria, you dug too deep.” Brackrog concedes his brethren’s accomplishments, “We are what we are. Ply our crafts and skills.”

Morning brings long shadows as the rising sun peeks around the lower mountain caps. And shadows of another kind as Ladee points out more movement. A LARGE group behind us. Lady Írimë announces, “The time has come; they have found their voice and leader. To the hill top. We will make our stand there.” Rambler plucks Ladee by the scruff of his neck placing him on his dogs back, “We’ve no time for your short legs hobbit!” What looked like 50ish orcs has grown to a swarm near 100. Atop the hill ringed with boulders we prepare defenses.

Doubt, despair, and hopelessness echoes ever so slight on everyone’s mind except Lady Írimë who stands at the highest point focused in song. Rambler gathers everyone’s oil flasks to start fires among the trees below the rise. Then he and Brackrog find rock outcropping that provide cover to prevent flanking. Them too focused on the threat before them to see the hobbit pulling fireworks (gifted from Gandolf back in the Shire) from his backpack. His simple plan: see if he can dislodge a boulder to start an avalanche at the proper time. His plan foiled when the orcs approach from the north where no boulders lie.

The throng of barking orc parts to let their leader approach, “Throw down your weapons and accept an easy death.” Our answer comes in Ladee’s backup plan: placing his fireworks on the boulder and taking careful aim, he launches them at the leader. Explosions and sparkles rain down near the large orc, scattering his closest ranks. “So be it. We eat man-flesh tonight!” But their surge is halted as Lady Írimë raises her ring that radiates a bright blue beacon rising into the twilight…the orcs blinded. Some stumbling into the fires. Giving opportunity for the group to rain arrows upon the orc; a few more falling.

The beacon still shining as the orcs collect themselves for a charge up the hill. Our position quickly over-run.

Ladee backing up to give cover to the lady while Brackrog advances to give flanking support for Rambler and his dog. Brackrog the fool for exposing his back till you consider his action drawing the orc toward him instead of Lady Írimë. Ladee charging to aid his comrades only to see the dwarf fall. And that’s when the orc began to fly, climbing high into the night, only to plummet to earth. Then Lady Írimë, and Rambler, Ladee, along with the dwarf body lifted into the sky. For the eagles had arrived! 

Rescue! On the precipice of defeat. Victory. Till an orcish arrow finds its mark in Ladee’s eagle. A slight dip in the flightpath till the hobbit lays hands on the talons gripping him, channeling healing into the great bird.