Jari the Dwarf waits for the Company a short distance outside Bree, in a sheltered dell north of Bree-hill. The Company finds him crouched over a campfire, merrily frying up a breakfast of bacon, sausage and egg. Diarmoc is there as is the young Thomas Pickthorn. Nearby, four fine ponies crop the long grass. Jari jumps up and greets the adventurers. “Friends! Eat, eat. We have a long journey ahead of us before we find my Great-uncle’s treasure, so let us put a little food in our bellies ‘ere we march.”

Haldan wakes early, and heads downstairs to settle his account with Butterbur before heading out to the stables to collect his horse. Silvermane has been a constant companion on his journey from Dale, but is probably as eager as Haldan was to get moving again.

"Good Morning, Gentlemen." The smell of breakfast cooking on an open fire was a welcoming start, but didn't do much to ease Haldan's suspicions about their new travelling companions. Nevertheless, he quickly tucked in, "It's never a good thing to travel on  an empty stomach. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated."

Aldaron strolls up alongside Haldan, walking afoot rather than mounted.

He's sorry to see Thomas's mother didn't manage to discourage the youth, and Diarmoc's presence casts a pall over the morning, but the smell of breakfast is enticing.

He skipped food at the Prancing Pony. Not wanting to spend more than he could afford, so he is glad to tuck into Jari's offered food and says so, thanking the dwarf.

The sky is still hazy, and early spring in Eriador, even in Bree Land, can be cold, throwing off the last chill of winter. Aldaron squints at the clouds, noting their speed. It could be a day of mixed weather for travelling. He wonders how Thomas will fare. The lad has likely not ventured further from Bree in his whole life.

He chews his bacon, thoughtfully. "Those are fine ponies, master Jari. A credit to you, as is this breakfast."

Nor trundles up as well, separately so as to raise less suspicion, though also separately because he ate more, much more, than his fill at the Prancing Pony's breakfast.  And might have stuffed a few of their rolls in his pack...hard to know when your next foods are coming on the trail.

He's ruddy in the face then, as he puffs up on the scene.  "Well folks.  Hail & Good morn, good indeed!  Our fearless leader Jari; Diarmoc; Thomas, yes, and Swiftblade."  Nor nods to each in turn, acknowledged or not.  "Aldaron, we met last night, but good to see that you're here again."  Nor slung his pack to the dew-covered ground, and took a small drink from his skin.  "Ooof, did I eat this morning!  Not one to turn down a piece of bacon or a nice sausage, though.  I can make a lil room inside, somewhere, I'm sure!" He adjusts the broad-bladed cleaving sword he wears, and takes the twin throwing axes out of his belt, unceremoniously dropping them on his pack before using his dagger to spear a nice slice of bacon and two links.  He gestures to his left "The ponies to ride, eh?  That's a fine thing, Jari, a fine thing.  And ponies come useful with hauling the loot back again, eh?"

Aldaron smiles at Nór. They arrived separately as the dwarf suggested, and Aldaron thinks it was a wise precaution. Diarmoc's eyes are far too sharp for his comfort. Better he not suspect they are as close as they are. Still, with the dwarf and Haldan accompanying him, the Diarmoc's ill-favoured presence is less of a burden this morning and he finds he is almost looking forward to the adventure.

And, of course, between them, he hopes they can keep Thomas from peril until the lad has the chance to at least consider his choices.

He turns to Haldan, still chewing on a mouthful of bacon. He has few of Milton's reservations about manners, having spent too long alone on the trail. Thinking of the hobbit brings a smile to his face. He wonders how the other companions are faring, but just about manages to resist the urge to look for them.

He waves a fork of sausage at Silvermane.

"That's a magnificent horse, Haldan. Silvermane, is it? I know little of horses, but even I can see he is a noble animal."

"Aye, Silvermane it is. He's a decent beast alright," Haldan strokes the horses mane, "been with me all the way from Dale. Crossed the mountains without a complaint."

The horse almost appears to understand it's the subject of their admiration. Aldaron would swear it was actually preening, pulling itself upright with a proud glint in its eye. He smiles and shakes his head.

This is not a group he would be eager to ambush at all.

"Master Jari, how far will we travel today? I know the lands hereabout passingly well..." In truth, most of his time has been spent in the wilder lands, closer to the mountains, but he has come to Bree often enough that he hopes not to get lost before they spy Weathertop, at least. "If you share our course, it might help us be ready for what we'll face."

And suggest good spots to leave traces for Gert, Perry, and Milton. He knows Gert's skill. An occasional print in mud, one or two of Nór's ribbons or buttons. She would need less than Jari or Diarmoc might imagine.

The sky is overcast and the sun show itself from time to time in in the pale spring sky. The terrain around Bree is gently sloped and covered with still yellow grass but most of the trees show some budding. A light breeze brings fresh and earthy fragrances as the lands prepare for another growing season.

Jari stuffs his face with sausage and speaks at the same time. "Yes, the ponies will spare our backs when we return laden with treasure. Right now there's provisions in their bags. I suppose you could ride them in a pinch but I wouldn't want to wear them down unnecessarily." He stuffs the last of the bacon in his mouth, licks his fingers and turn to Aldaron. "We will go north from here, between the Chetwood and the Midgewater marches for the first leg of the journey." He avoids a direct answer to the question of precisely where you are going.

Young Thomas doesn't say much, just keeps his walking stick in a sweaty grip and stares wide-eyed at everything at once. Diarmoc is also tight-lipped but instead stares sullenly into the fire.

---

See the map for group 0 for this part of the game. I will update it as we go.

Haldan gets up, and checks that his sword is hanging confortably in it's scabbard. then walks over to Silvermane, who is quietly grazing a little way from the fire. Taking the reins and giving the horse a light scratch between the ears, he whispers, "C'mon my friend, it's time to go; keep your eyes and ears open."

"Lead on master Dwarf, show us the way and we will follow."

With a hobbit's reluctance, Aldaron leaves the rest of the sausage and wipes his hands on the grass. Eat when you can, so he was taught. You never know when you'll find your next meal. Long days tracking orcs across the Ettenmoors had resulted in more than a few missed meals in the past, comfort sacrificed to speed.

Now, he tightens his blade across his shoulders and watches as Perry and Nór make their own preparations. He takes a step closer to Thomas. "I hope it will be easy going to start," he says. "You'll be fine if you keep wits about you and eyes open. Stay close to me, to the rest of us, and you'll fare well, Thomas."

Despite words aimed at easing the lad's anxieties, his own remain. He eyes Diarmoc while the man is otherwise engaged. That Jari might have stolen the treasure they seek he can understand. Where Diarmoc fits in this scheme... well, it remains to be seen.

Jari eventually motions for everyone to gather their things and leads the party north along the edge of the Chetwood.

Thomas gulps as the ranger speaks to him but collects himself and nods, determined to not make a fool of himself. He's going on an adventure!

---

Event target for this leg of the journey are LOOK-OUTS. You have entered into Dark Lands now so the journey event roll I make will be ill-favoured.

Haldan takes his place in the marching order, leading Silvermane behind him as they make their way along the edge of the Chetwood. He keeps a watchful eye on Jari and the Dunlending - he doesn't trust them, and is on the look-out for any changes in their demeanor that may indicate trouble ahead. It's good to be on the road again, and the walk is not unpleasant. The forest appears delightful in the morning sunlight and Hal can hear the distant call of birds, but Midgewater Marshes to the east seems less inviting and he hopes their path doesn't lead too far in that direction.

Aldaron has nothing against Bree. On balance, the village is a pleasant enough place, and he finds the people a fine enough selection. No, it is not the village; it is the stout walls hemming him in that he dislikes. He has spent too long walking the trails and byways of the wilds; he is more comfortable outside, more at hime in the Chetwood, even the sodden edge of the Midgewater Marshes.

He pauses as they leave the road, taking a clumsy step into soft mud, his print marking the direction of travel for Gert’s keen eye.

Once off the road, they are entering perilous lands. He has never hunted orcs this far south, but he doesn’t discount the possibility of unseen peril even this close to Bree. As the party pursues its line of march, Aldaron strings his bow. He prefers the sword, but the bow offers the chance to bring down a rabbit, or a deer.

Even an orc.

Jari may be a thief and a liar, but he has shown himself a passable cook. A cut or two of venison would be a welcome addition to lunch. There’s another reason, too. Hunting gives him a reason to range further afield, far enough that he can blaze an occasional tree, or scuff a mark or two on the trail. He doubts Gert or the others need it, but too much help hurts no one.

Nor's content to walk along as well.  He'd like to be behind Jari and Diarmoc, but it's early still, and the cookfire was enough marker for nearly anyone, he's sure of it.  So no matter where he is in the order, he trundles along happily.

Haldan moves to the side to allow Nor to pass. "You go ahead master Dwarf," he chuckles. "You're not going to see very much walking behind a horse."

In the afternoon you pass between the Chetwood and the Midghewater march before you turn slightly eastwards toward the Weather Hills. Jari keeps engaging you in conversation, asking about where you come from, why you have gone wandering, or what you will do with the vast treasure you are sure to find in the hidden valley. Along the way Jari also tell you more of his Great-uncle Bori. Jari claims that his family has always been unjustly mistreated by the jealous Dwarves of the Blue Mountains, and that his uncle was a traveller and treasure-seeker of renown. Why, he entered into lost Dwarven cities in the Grey Mountains, and who knows what fabulous gems and jewels he found there? The Dwarf-lords of the Blue Mountains threatened to take Bori’s hard-earned gold with fines and taxes, and rather than yield up his treasure to them, Bori buried it.

Young Thomas' nerves improve and by the end of the first day he chatters away merrily, talking about how happy his father will be when he brings all the treasure home. Diarmoc closes up even more, barely speaking a word and he often stares into the fire when you stop to rest. Sometimes his eyes tear up but if asked he blames it on the yellow grass.

The slight overcast holds up as you walk and provides great weather for travelling. On the afternoon of the second day you climb a gentle slope and before you reach the summit you hear the cawing of a large murder of crows. As you come all the way up you have a great view of the Weather Hills ahead but also the large gathering of carrion birds feasting on something by a collection of cliffs just below you. The gristly sight of mannish remains in a heap by the cliffs chill you to the bones.

---

Despair! The Company has been so unlucky as to have been subjected to a terrible ordeal, an occurrence that is most likely connected to the slow rising of the Shadow. Everyone in the Company gains 1 Shadow point (Dread). Everyone gains 2 Fatigue points.

You may reduce or cancel the effects of Dread with a Shadow Test (VALOUR).

From the summit of the hill, Haldan gazes across the landscape in the direction of the Weather Hills, but the vista is spoilt by the gathering of carrion crows on the cliffs below. Who that poor fellow is, they might never know, but the fine line between life and death fills Haldan with a sense of foreboding, that something dreadful is about to happen.

---

Failed Valour roll, but managed to avoid the Eye as Valour is favoured (Stout-hearted)
Added 1 Shadow Point and 2 Fatigue to character sheet.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:06, Mon 12 Feb.

Aldaron considers the jubilant crows, croaking and dancing about their feast. If any were needed, it is further proof that the lands through which they journey have become perilous and wild.

After a night of restless sleep, in which he dreamed of thunderclouds gathering over a mountainous redoubt, he has tried hard to listen to Jari’s endless tales. He learnt a piece or two about Bori, but also quickly discovered the dwarf's stories are all woven from the same thread of self-justification. Truly, his family has been harried and harassed by the selfish and unjust; woe, but his uncle, an honest dwarf, was deprived of his fairly gotten gains.

We shall see, thought Aldaron, hoping his efforts at least gave Haldan the space to spot any danger coming. At best, he sees he was partially successful. But then, Jari could suck an orc into conversation.

The Rangers strive ever harder to protect the wild lands, but they can’t be everywhere. This part of the country he scarcely knows, but he hadn’t imagined danger would be so close to Bree. He looks back at the trail. Two days out. He feels the icy chill of despair, and wonders who the figure ruined at the base of the cliffs might be.

"If we needed reminding of the dangers ahead, we have it," he says, shaking off his horror. (Valour: Great Success)

---

Perry had never seen the raw power of the unforgiving wilderness or worse, until now.  He had only read about such things—not in the fanciful tales his mother used to read to him as a child, but in the dusty tomes that lined the top shelf in his father's study, away from curious young eyes.  Scaling the bookcase like a mountain goat, he devoured those histories by candlelight while his parents slumbered, long before their world turned upside down.

The stories had once chilled his young imagination, but now, faced with the harsh reality before him, Perry felt a shiver run down his spine. The wildness he had only imagined now surrounded him, its untamed fury echoing the fearsome narratives he had once devoured.

"There is always a morning," Perry thought to himself.  The thought helped a little.

(Valour: Success)
This message was last edited by the player at 05:08, Tue 13 Feb.

Aldaron descends the summit, waving the reluctant crows away from their meal. They don't go far, dropping to earth mere paces beyond the reach of his flailing arms. It's more a tactical withdrawal than a surrender, he thinks.

He crouches near the body, covering his nose and mouth with his hand. The sweet, sickening stench of death is cloying, even in the open air. Foul and unforgettable.

He peers at the corpse. "Nór, what do you make of this?"

---

OOC: happy to provide support for the Scan roll.

Nor pales slightly at first sight of the birds.  A shadow had been growing in his mind, sunny day aside.  He had been taking this all too lightly, the voice went.  He was being far too glib, far too confident, far too hopeful.  He knew how the wilderness went, and the lands under the sky - they did not care a whit if he or anyone lived or died.  The rocks are silent.

Oh! The tangled tear of a creature, fair or foul, bereft of life, torn to jiblets; the angry clack of beak on bone.

He shuddered though he'd worked up a bit of a sweat marching. Cold.  Cold in the core.

"Ah, Alderon! Right." He exhaled to steady himself.  "Let's see here..." as he got closer.

OOC: what to roll for?

Haldan watches on as Aldaron and Nor make their way down to the cliffs below. The dwarf looks tired, he thinks to himself. His own load is fairly cumbersome, but a coat of mail together with a helm and shield is more than he'd be willing to carry on a journey like this. Still, those dwarves come from tough stock, one shouldn't underestimate them.

"Do you see anything?" he calls down from the summit. Hal is still a little unnerved by the situation. Some things are best left alone.

"It's a lonely place to die, Nór." Aldaron eyes the surrounding land. He wonders who this man was, where he was coming from, or going to. And why alone?

Rangers may walk the land alone, but few others would chance it in these darkening times. Could he have been a Ranger. The remains are so pecked over, decaying, it's hard to tell at first glance.

"Maybe he can still tell us something about why he was here, or who he was?" He nods as Perry joins them, braving the smell and the ire of the crows. "And how he died."

---

OOC: I was thinking Scan, for examining the corpse. I think Nór and Perry have the best chance of learning something that way.

Nór moved closer, then closer again.  The ravens had made a mess for sure, and this body was near indistinguishable.  "A man, I think.  And a maybe a week old too.  Clothes in very poor condition.  Maybe from damage, maybe from wear.   I don't see any weapons, or boots though.  Could be an old man gone to die."  He shakes his head slowly.  "Among the worst ways to go, says I."

Then Nór crouches down, and looks over. "Swiftblade, what do you make of this?"

"What have you found?" Aldaron crouches at Nór's shoulder, one wary eye on the largest of the crows.

The smell of decay is dark mist on his tongue, the body ravaged. Hard to believe there is anything left to find, but Nór has seen something. Aldaron tries to divine what it is.

---

OOC: Marked off 1 Hope. 

The stench of death hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the cacophony of the crows' cries. Jari's jovial demeanor falters, replaced by a solemn gravity as he surveys the grim tableau before them. "Foul deeds have transpired here," he says with a glint in eyes that speak not of sorrow but of grim acceptance.

Thomas, his earlier merriment extinguished by the stark reality of the scene, clutches at the nearest companion's arm, his eyes wide with horror. "By the stars above," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the din of the scavengers.

Diarmoc, ever stoic, clenches his jaw, his gaze fixed upon the grisly remains. He turn his back to the scene and walk away.

Before you lies a grisly tableau, bathed in the fading light of day. You crouch down by the nearest body but as you look around you see two more bodies heaped among the cliffs. Their limbs are twisted in unnatural angles and what remains of their faces are frozen in expressions of terror and pain. There is no telling who these people were but you think they might have been Bree-folk. Nór is about to turn away from the scene when Aldaron points something out. An arrow, almost completely hidden under one of the bodies. As you retrieve and study it you see that it is an orc-arrow, black feathered and crude.

"Bree men, most likely." And three bodies at that. Aldaron can't help but wonder who they were, and what errand brought them to this miserable end. Do their families still wonder where they are, or why they are delayed? He would like to bring the tidings, no matter how unwelcome, to their families. Better to know, no matter how awful the news, than to live in uncertainty. But the bodies are mangled, crow-eaten. He sees no obvious means to recognise them.

"Did either of you glimpse any means of identifying them to their relatives?" he asks Nór and Perry. "Some keepsakes or mementoes those close to them might recognise?"

He teases the arrow free of its concealment, but he knows almost before he sees it what he will find. Orcs. He holds the arrow up for Nór and Perry to see, sharing a look of dismay with the keen-eyed dwarf and the scholar. He lifts it so Haldan and the others can see. There is no need for an explanation. All who live near the wildlands, or travel through them, do so in fear of orcs. Their signs and traces are familiar enough.

He can't tell from the crude but effective fletching whether this is a group he has previously hunted, or some band newly down from the mountains to cause havoc.

"The question is, how long ago?" He purses his lips and discards the arrow. "And are the killers still close enough to be a threat?"

He wipes his hands on the grass and stands. "We will need to be more vigilant than ever."

---

OOC: Not looking for treasure or anything valuable, but is there something we could return to Bree in hope of putting the relatives minds at ease?

Aldaron looks around and finds no immediate token of identification but one of the bodies, a woman, is clutching a small wooden pony tied to a snapped leather band. It is no fine craft, more like a precious keepsake carved by a child.

Judging by the condition of the bodies they must have been here at least several days, perhaps a week. There are faint tracks leading east into the Weather Hills but the spring rain have washed away any knowledge of how many orcs there might have been.

Nór moves off a piece, for some distance as much as fresh air.  "Likely these three were caught unawares by a raiding party.  Early in the spring, the orcs run out of food, and emboldened by hunger, get closer to civilization.  Probably slinking back from a food-raid when they surprised these three, headed from a village or holding north to Bree.  That's why we havent heard of their demise.  A hard way to go, in a hard land."

Perry, standing a bit further up the slope, realizes based on the traversability of the surrounding terrain and where you are in relation to Bree that these people probably came from the northeast on their way to Bree, were waylaid and would have run to this particular formation of cliffs in a desperate attempt to find defensible ground.

[Private to Perry Foxglow: Since you rolled a Great Success: You suddenly remember that when you were young two families left Bree to break new ground in the Weather Hills to the northeast. It might not be related but, on the other hand, it might be.]

Aldaron examines the pony briefly, then tucks it into his belt. "I'll try to return this. If I can," he whispers.

He rises and heads back to the rest of the party.

"Aye, Nór, you have the right of it. It's no way to die." He pauses on the slope and scans the surrounding land. No sign of any orcs, obviously, but he's confident he could pick up their trail if it was needed. It isn't, he reminds himself, why they are here. "Maybe when this is done I'll come back, see if I can't clear out whatever rats' nest they've found for themselves."

He returns to the road, sharing a look with Haldan. It's an ill-omened beginning to their journey, and a timely reminder to keep vigilant.

You leave the gristly sight behind you and continue north, closing in on the northern part of the Weather Hills.

---

Event target for this leg of the journey are Scouts (EXPLORE), go ahead and roll. You are still in Dark Lands so the journey event roll I make will be ill-favoured.

Haldan looks out to the distant hills, wondering how much farther until their destination. Their Guide seems to know where he's going and Perry has been scouting ahead for the safest path, so Hal continues to follow their lead, with Silvermane at his side.

Nór falls in line, such as it is.  As he moved away from the scene, a bit of weight lifted, and he realized he'd been half-holding his breath.  "Steady on lads.  It's a hard world, but we're vastly safer together."

As the travellers approach the Weather Hills, Jari leads the Company to a sheltered spot. The trail winds its way up a steep-sided hillock, one of the northwesternmost of the hills. At the top are a few tumbled stones that mark the watchtower that once stood here — long ago, there was a beacon fire here, signalling along the line of hills from the Road to Fornost Erain. He points east, and tells the characters that yonder lies the hidden valley of Morglynd. They should reach it the next day.

Jari tells you that it is a good place to camp and suggests lighting a fire there. “Trust a Dwarf to know a sheltered spot amid the rocks,” he says.

"I would not do that," a voice calls, surprisingly nearby. A woman stands from her hiding spot behind a couple of small boulders twenty yards up the slope. She is a tall and slender woman, her demeanour marked by sorrow. Aldaron knows her as Gilraen, one of the most respected counselors of the Dúnedain of Eriador. "We have seen fresh tracks of both orc and troll in these hills," she says and you see she has a hunting bow in hand, arrow nocked.

Jari, dismayed by the sudden appearance of a Ranger, stammers something about a cold and damp night ahead.

---

Chance-meeting! If the roll succeeds (and Perrys did), no Fatigue is gained, and the Loremaster improvises an encounter favouring the Company.

If you wonder why I keep copy/pasteing the table text it's just to spotlight what I'm up to, mechanically, now in the beginning so we can learn together. I won't do that next journey.

""
Jari tells you that it is a good place to camp and suggests lighting a fire there. “Trust a Dwarf to know a sheltered spot amid the rocks,” he says.

""

Nór, glad to take a break, nods his agreement.  "Aye, and I will." He agrees, settling his pack to the cool earth.  He squints at the rock, getting a sense of lichen and moisture, and is preparing a spot for a small fire from which neither glow nor smoke might be seen.

On hearing Gilraen then, he's startled, and the dull <conk> noise from Burin's helm,  gives him away, no matter her vantage.

"Counselor Gilraen!" He exclaims, stopping still...
This message was last edited by the player at 12:55, Thu 22 Feb.

Haldan steps forward, and bows as he introduces the party. "Greetings fair lady. We are travellers from Bree en route to a small valley east of here, and we thank you for your kind warning. Any information you can provide about our destination, would be greatly appreciated." (COURTESY: Success).

---

Edited to ask for information about the valley.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:46, Mon 19 Feb.

"Gilraen!" blurts Aldaron, before he can get a grasp on his surprise. He blushes and looks back at the line of their march, and happily stands aside as Haldan introduces their small group. As he does, Aldaron watches Jari and Diarmoc, to see how they respond to Giraen's sudden presence among them. They seemed unhappy enough with his own; he wonders what they will make of an experienced Ranger.

The Valley of Morglynd, thinks Aldaron, when Jari has stammered his way through a recovery. So, we know our destination.

It has been a long walk since they left the unburied dead. Long and swift, and driven by the unspoken fear of lingering too close to the site of the orcs' depredations. During it, Perry earned his respect for his sharp eyes and keen insight. Nobody could have spotted Gilraen before she was ready to be seen, but Perry's observation of the slain Bree folk was quick and certain. And Aldaron appreciates the way the scholar led them on their winding route today. The Weather Hills are difficult terrain, more than ever with the malaise hanging over the land, but Perry didn't once err.

Aldaron takes a step back, letting the others take the lead. Seeing Gilraen makes him feel younger than he is, and foolish with it. If Rangers can have such a thing as a crush, he had one on Gilraen. Not that she would even have noticed him, a young apprentice, on the few occasions they met. But she has loomed large in his thoughts since. Now, he imagines himself clumsy and oafish, and does his best to busy himself with the camp.

He finds a spot in the lee of the old tower, staring east into the wilds. With a moment's peace, his mind turns the name over again. The Valley of Morglynd… (LORE: Great Success)

The early day's grisly find had bothered Perry some but more than that, it picked at something he recalled from his younger days.  If there was a connection it eluded Perry and he had done his best to set it aside while he forged a path for this newfound fellowship and delivered them safely to camp before evening fell.  Perry had intended to ponder the matter further next to a warm fire and with a full belly, but the interruption of the ranger Gilraen gave cause to puzzle anew.


"Trolls and Orcs are an ill portent indeed," Perry replied.  "What sign of other travellers?  Or homesteaders perhaps?"

Gilraen nods at Haldan and seems to decide the part is not a threat. She deftly unstrings her bow. "Morglynd? Yes, I know of it. As some of you already know, in the last years of the old kingdom of Arthedain, when there was war with the dark land of Angmar, the King’s soldiers built many hidden fortresses and watchtowers along the Weather Hills as a bulwark against invasion. In this valley they wrought fortifications of earth and stone; they dug trenches and tunnels, and piled up the earth from them to make a mound. A tower once stood atop it; built in the last years of the kingdom, it was crudely made in comparison to other castles raised by the Men of Westernesse. That tower is long gone but last I heard the wells and cellars remained."

She turns to Aldaron. "You have grown, Swiftblade, since I saw you last. It is good to know someone that knows the land is guiding these people. If you see Orothel, let me know I am anxious to hear from her. She is travelling up here but I have not had word for some time." Aldaron remembers Orothel is a senior ranger, a hardened woman in her sixties.

Gilraen looks at Perry, appraisingly. "There have been signs of travellers, yes. A group of three travelled south from here. They might have come from Morglynd, now that I think about it. I would have investigated myself but I am on my way to Fornost and can not be delayed." She glances at Jari, Thomas and Diarmoc that -all three of them- shuffles nervously but perhaps for different reasons. "Your companions are a mismatched lot. What brings you here? And to the valley of Morglynd?" She asks.

"There's heaps of gold! A large treasure!" Thomas blurts out before anyone else has time to answer. "We're gonna be rich! Me pa's gonna be able ta buy the farm back!"

---

Aldaron and Haldan, I baked the knowledge you gained from your rolls into Gilraens answer but Aldaron might have known some of it on his own.

"Ho there, well now young Thomas.  We've to find it first, and then bring it back.  There is difficulty enough with that, and we saw earlier three, or the remains thereof, who'd been chased by orks." Nór pantomimed spitting on the stony ground with malice.  He looks, in his friendliest demeanor, to Jarl and Daimock "And this horde that Thomas speaks of; it's left by one of Durin's folk, known to our guide here, isn't that so?"  And then hard at Gilraen "Sometimes a cloud isn't a cloud, Counselor.  Sometimes it's a mountain."

Then he crosses his arms and nods with a small 'humph' of finality.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:14, Thu 22 Feb.

Aldaron nods and coughs to cover the sudden heat in his face. He's older than he was, and wiser, but he finds his body still thinks it's the child Gilraen once knew. At least his tongue does, since any words he manages to conjure fail to make it beyond.

It doesn't stop him listening, though. He remembers hearing about the tower in the Morglynd, though he has never seen it. Gilraen's words make him wonder about their destination. Would Jari's uncle have hidden his loot in the tower's ruins? It's possible. And if the rest of Gilraen's words are true—and only a fool would discount them—then the Morglynd is likely home to the band of orcs that killed the travellers.

Perhaps even the ruins themselves.

And where is Orothel? If Gilraen worries about her, then there must be cause to worry. He little likes the feel of it, but is more glad than ever that he came, and for the company of Nór, Haldan, and Perry. This is not a danger he would like to face alone.

He glances at Thomas as the lad blurts his truth. He's relieved to see Nór taking an avuncular interest. Thomas's youthful honesty reveals a good heart. He wonders if together they can persuade the lad to turn back. Despite the danger, Aldaron can see no easy way. If he expelled Thomas, or even scared him off, the lad would undoubtedly fall in with the next fool scheme to pass through Bree, and there are plenty of those. No, despite Aldaron's misgivings, he has no right to decide Thomas's fate. The lad needs to experience his choice first hand, to make his own path. Aldaron just hopes together they can keep him from harm.

"I am pledged to this company," Aldaron tells Gilraen, relieved to find his tongue hasn't actually swollen to three times its size. "We are bound for the Morglynd, as Thomas says. If there are orcs there, or Orothel, we will know it and I'll bring word, or resolve the problem, in the case of the orcs."

"Thank you, fair lady. We will camp here for the night and post a watch to look out for orcs and trolls."

Then quietly to Aldaron he whispers, "Keep a close watch on our companions, not all is as they claim." Haldan doesn't trust Jari at all, but Diarmoc is more of an unknown. He was lying to them back at the Prancing Pony, but wasn't very good at it. Hal is sure Diarmoc knows more than he's saying, and decides to have a quiet word with him once they've set up the camp.

Gilraen takes in Nór's words and nods sadly. "Take care," she says. "You never know what's out for you in the Lone-lands."

She picks up her pack, takes a few steps out into the growing gloom of the evening and stops for a moment to adress everyone. "Bree, you say? When my business in Fornost is finished, I might stop by to check up on you and to hear of your exploits." For the briefest of instances she looks the way you came, as if she saw something and a small smile graces her lips. "Again, take care and I hope to see you in a couple of weeks." With those parting words Gilraen takes her leave, for now.

Jari grumbles about the fire but tends to the mules and helps to make camp. When everyone has settled in, eaten and perhaps enjoyed a small pipe in the shelter of some boulders he stands and stretched. "Well, I am going to scout ahead before the dark is fully upon us. I'll be back in a little while." He turns and leaves the camp eastward. It is perhaps half an hour until it will be completely dark.

Haldan signals Aldaron to follow the dwarf. "Keep an eye on him, I'm sure he's up to no good."

Hal lights his pipe and wanders over to have a quiet talk with Diarmoc. The man hasan't been honest and Hal wants to get the truth out of him. "I know you weren't being completely truthful back at the inn ... and I want to know what's going on. We don't need to be here. We can easily turn around and go back to Bree, leave you and Jari here in the hills with the maurauding orcs, or worse. If you want us to continue this journey, you need to come clean and tell us the truth. What is it you're hiding?" {PERSUADE: Failed}

Aldaron watches Gilraen leave with mixed feelings. She was a comfort, for certain. Without her, the wild is suddenly more perilous, the coming night more threatening. But the knot in his tongue has untied itself, and the heat in his cheeks cooled. He smiles to himself. Perhaps it's for the best. He wasn't sure how long he could continue without making a fool of himself.

Not long after, while Aldaron lays his bedroll in the hill's shadow, he sees Jari walk from the camp. He exchanges a brief look with Haldan. The two of them, it seems, have the same thought: Jari is up to something. While Haldan approaches Diarmoc, keeping the sinister man's attention diverted, Aldaron slips around the hill and slides into Jari's shadow. (STEALTH: Extraordinary Success with Eye of Sauron)

Let's see where you're going, friend Jari, and keep you safe from orcs while you're going there.

---

OOC: For Aldaron's successes, he will gain insight and widen influence, in case Jari is meeting someone else and so Diarmoc doesn't notice his going.

In reply to Haldan the Northman (msg # 47):

As Haldan seemingly blows up at Diarmoc, Nor stands, and takes a half-step towards them.  "Ho ho, now, Haldan.  That's no way to talk.  We're not even one night, and we're at loggerheads?  No no, lad.  Settle, have a think."  He turns slightly, more shifts his gaze, really, to address Diarmoc.  "I don't ask none for why from they whence come, nor what business they have when they get where they're going.  I'm sure you have your reasons, and many a man keeps his tongue to hisself, not blabbering on like some bard.  Due time, Due time."  He sits again, puffs for a moment, staring into the fire, and then speaks again.  "Now then lads, we have a lot to think about, what with what Counselor Gilraen has said.  But first on our list should be who takes what watch.  Now you, young Thomas, I would suggest either first or last.  And if you want someone with you, as you might not have the same sort of experience, then that's no shame.  Gentlemen?"

Diarmoc, in a darker mood than ever before, sits alone in the growing darkness beside a boulder. He looks up as Haldan and Nor approaches and grimaces. After a while he ansvars. "Well, I met Jari on the road outside Bree and he paid me to bolster his attempts to recruit adventurers. I think he fears that there may be dangers in the valley so he had me enter Bree separately as a ruse to ensure that he would be able to recruit a goodly number of adventurers. Good enough for you?" He falls silent, staring into the gloom.

---

You may both roll INSIGHT or RIDDLE.

Haldan takes another puff on his pipe {INSIGHT: Success, incl. useful item). Diarmoc's story sounds feasible, but Hal still has misgivings. The dark mood concerns him, the nervous shuffles, it's as if Diarmoc is concerned about something more than just the threat of danger. "What do you know of the valley of Morglynd? Have you been there before?"

The man's eyes glitter as if with tears but he refuses to look up at Haldan. "No," he says, "I... I have not." He looks close to breaking and it is obvious to the Barding that Diarmoc is still not telling the full truth.

---

I think perhaps an ENHEARTEN roll could lure Diarmoc out of his shell.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:29, Sat 24 Feb.

Hal looks sympathetically at the man, and decides to try a different approach. "We can help you if you'd let us, but it would be a lot easier if you told us what we're up against." (PERSUADE: Success)

---

Invoking 'Fair-spoken' and spending another Hope point.

Diarmoc's chest heaves with a great sob and starts to tell his story. It is difficult to tell, coming out in heaves with spittle running from his mouth and tears running down his cheeks. You gather that he and his kinfolk left the South and travelled north. He admits that there is more to this quest than was said at Bree. "The valley of Morglynd might have some treasure", he says, "but it’s also home to a band of foul Trolls who capture and eat people.” He manages to get out that they waylaid Diarmoc’s family and took them away. He met Jari as he wandered, bereft and lost, and Jari came up with the tale of the lost treasure in order to recruit some stalwart adventurers. Their real goal is slaying the Trolls, not finding Dwarf-gold.

Diarmoc then descends into despairing imaginings about what might have happened to his family, alternating between grim speculation that they’ve been devoured and hope that they might still be alive.

---

Since you used PERSUADE rather than ENHEARTEN you do get him to tell his story but everyone who hear abut the fate of his family also gain 1 Shadow point (DREAD).

Nor feels the tarred line of despair tighten anew. "Your pain is the pain of us all; that fell creatures walk these lands.  How fortunate we are to have Jari - who took up your cause.  Why keep these trolls a secret, I wonder?  We will all speak afresh on his return...you especially, Thomas.  Do not flee in the night.  I wonder then also what Gilraen might have made of this news?  With the rangers about - though you have said you do not trust them, Dairmoc, they might be an ally here."

Gilraen had not fully soothed Perry's curiosity, though he was thankful for what news she brought.  The puzzle of the dead travellers would remain unsolved for now.  Then Jari took his leave of their company and now poor Diamarc's woeful tale.  The evening had not turned out the way Perry anticipated, and it left him in a dour mood.  He wanted to question Diarmoc further but could not see where new information might be gained.  The poor man had been through enough.  Perry stared into the fire, head on knees and lost in thought.

"I do not feel especially like sleeping," he said, but to no one in particular.

"Thank you for sharing your story, Diarmoc. We will go to the valley and try to find these trolls." (VALOUR: Great success)

Haldan doesn't know what else to say. He has heard tales of people captured by trolls and kept as prisoners, to be eaten later. A few have even escaped, although Hal has never met anyone who escaped from a troll lair and he has his doubts as to the veracity of the stories. If Diarmoc's family were captured, the chance of them being alive is slim. Still, the fellowship will need to make haste, and should be wary. Trolls are not the smartest of creatures, but they can be devious.

Diarmoc collects himself and stares wide-eyed at Nór. "No, no, I am sure they will be fine." He picks up a kerchief from his pocket and wipes his face and finishes by loudly blowing his nose. He doesn't seem willing to discuss Jari. Suddenly he looks up as the dwarf in question walks into the camp and you can see how Diarmoc once again clenches his jaw and returns to his usual sullen self.

After perhaps a couple of hours Jari returns to camp, well into the dark hours. The sky is clear and you can see without fire well enough by the light of the stars and the mooon. "All is clear ahead," the dwarf mutters and rolls himself up in his blankets.

Haldan retrieves his blankets and checks that Silvermane is comfortable. "I'll take the first watch," he declares. "The rest of you try to get some sleep, we have a big day tomorrow."

Aldaron should be back soon, and Hal is interested in finding out what Jari was up to.

---

1 Hope point recovered (from fellowship pool)

Aldaron draws little attention as he slips into camp, appearing some moments after Jari. Without ceremony, he simply sits himself on his bedroll in the darkness of the hollow, exactly as if he'd been there all along.

He can tell at a glance that something has been revealed in camp during his absence, Diarmoc's tear-stained face is clue enough, though he wouldn't want to venture a guess as to what.

"Thomas, why don't you take first watch, while we are still awake," he ventures. "We four can debate the rest of the night's allocation between us."

He signals Haldan, Nór, and Perry with his eyes and a subtle jerk of the chin, indicating they should withdraw a distance so they can speak in private. Once they follow him into the hill's deeper shadows, a place where they can see both Diarmoc and Jari without being overheard, he watches Thomas make his first stuttering patrol of the camp. "These are dangerous lands," he begins, before dropping his voice to a whisper.

"I followed Jari some way from the camp. The dwarf is a difficult quarry, skilled and cunning, and he was at pains not be followed. I almost lost him, would have if not for luck. Once he was well clear of the camp, he stood atop the crest of a hill and whistled a birdcall. Obviously a signal. Given the way he was facing and the prevailing wind, it was meant for someone off to our east, in the valley itself I would guess." Aldaron pauses and glances about, making certain nobody is listening who should not be. "I don't know what game Jari is playing, but after hearing Gilraen's words, I wouldn't discount Jari being in league with the orcs who killed the travellers."

He stops, his face fixed in a frown. "Did Diarmoc yield any more about their intentions?"

---

OOC: I'm assuming here there will be time to speak wbile we organise watch, so I took a liberty in pushing ahead with giving Aldaron's account.

Nor nods.  "Aye and did he.  Cut to the quick, his family ambushed and taken captive by trolls.  Presumed eaten but maybe not.  Jari found him, somewhere, convinced him that they should make up a story about treasure to get adventurers, and then go fight the trolls.  Seems Diarmoc is as deceived as we are.  I say first thing we should have a confront.  And no one should take watch alone."

Hal frowns, "If Diarmoc is telling the truth, and I believe that he is, then who was Jari signalling? I think I agree with Nor, that Diarmoc too is being deceived. Whether it's trolls or orcs I don't know, but we'll need to stay alert. Maybe it's time to bring Gert and Milton back."

"We could certainly leave a message for them," says Aldaron, turning his eyes to the darkness around the camp. Gert and Milton are out there somewhere, but he hasn't been consciously looking for traces and has seen none.

"It's possible Diarmoc has been lured into some arrangement under duress. I don't know to what end, but he lied to us from the beginning. If the orcs, or trolls, or someone else is holding his family, Jari might have persuaded him to help lure us into an ambush..."

Except, why bother? They have no money to speak of. What possible reason could they have?

"...I just don't know why."

But he does know they should expect the worst, and they shouldn't trust either Jari or Diarmoc. When they enter the valley, they can expect to face orcs and trolls. And if Orothel has been taken, there must be more danger than they think. The experienced ranger would be no easy gull.

Thomas stumbles his way around another circuit of the camp. Aldaron sighs. "Whatever we will face tomorrow, we still need to stand watch tonight. Haldan, I think you will have twice the burden, first watch and Thomas to supervise. I like to rise early, shall I take last watch? Perry and Nór, do you want to divide the middle part of the night between you. We should be wary, but I don't think we'll have problems tonight. Whatever scheme Jari is cooking, the pot is the Morglynd."

Hal shrugs. There are still too many unknowns, but he's fairly certain that there's an ambush up ahead and that Jari plans on leading them into it.

"I'll take the first watch with Thomas," he nods at Aldaron, "and wake one of the others in a couple of hours."

"Any watch fine for me.  Keep your blades close, lads."

Despite being well prepared your blankets have not been quite enough to keep the spring chill from your bones but eventually morning comes after a night without fire. The sky is entirely overcast today and the Weather Hills does not live up to it's name as the air is still and heavy, full of the earthy smell of wet grass. Jari is in no rush to break camp but walks around doing this and that, double and triple checking the mules' harnesses.

Aldaron watches the dwarf from atop a boulder below the hill's crest. It was a peaceful night, if not the most comfortable, but the warmth of the sun cresting the distant mountains was more than welcome when it came.

"How long to your uncle's treasure, Jari?" he asks, jumping from his perch as the others stir.

For a dwarf in uncommon haste to leave Bree and recover his inheritance, today Jari seems all too happy to take his time. Aldaron wonders what has inspired the change. Could the signal he sent mean he has achieved what he wished?

If so, what could it be?

He eyes the camp. Trolls wouldn't attack in daylight, nor orcs, given a choice. None of the adventuring party is a person of significance, and none is carrying any treasure worthy of an elaborate ambush. The thing is a mystery.

No doubt, he thinks, as he sets about making a cold breakfast, we'll have all the answers we want later.

Looking up at the clouds, Haldan curses under his breath. He quickly rolls up his blankets and returns them to his pack. "We should make haste, if there are Orcs and Trolls in the valley, we don't want to be caught there after dark."

Jaris head jerks up and he casts a quick glance at Diarmoc before turning to Haldan. "What's this of orcs and trolls? No, no, not to worry. The valley is just a little ways to the east now, ripe for the plucking. Come, young Thomas, give me a hand with this tackle," he waves the young man to come help him and then moves on to another menial task.

Hal gets Silvermane prepared for their departure. "Gilraen warned us of fresh orc and troll tracks in these hills. Now make haste ... we'll be leaving with or without you."

"Very well master Haldan, let's be off then," Jari grumbles but quickly gets ready to depart.