Fiorla, Agent to the Court of Arvegil
 
My lord, I leave this note in the care of Dain Ironstaff, the smith of Daenost, for he is known to the King's messenger and I travel south to Gondor. I have to report that your servant Harald was slain two nights in the woods that he knew so well, by the hand of Sereth. Later, whilst searching for our fallen friend, the elf Cerilaragloras was also taken by that same fell blade.

We had earlier in the day met with Captain Ithil of the garrison and the Town's Reve, and having presented them with your warrant, they agreed that unless they heard word from governor Elasander by the evening, they would cede the town to Athmund. The assassin struck that afternoon as we waited and having killed our two ablest scouts effectively banished us from the forest. I imagine that he had hoped to strike from the edge that night, but as the keys to the town were handed over we were able to take refuge within.

In Daenost my lord Athmund billeted his men within the walls, and made a pretense of taking the great room of the tower for himself. In fact his man Sevenday laid an ambush there, and the Prince was secretly billeted in the town proper. That night the assassin struck but we ambushed and slew him with no further loss of life. Would that we could have entered the town sooner, perhaps no life might have been lost.

Hindsight is always clearest but perhaps if the smith Dain, who is well respected hereabouts, had been asked to affirm that he had received a message not five days hence from the hand of the king's messenger then Captain Etamir might have been persuaded of the governor's deceitfulness. Maybe that alone was the purpose of the mysterious note from Toreg - a mundane and unincriminating note passed on to his friend the smith would have proved that the messenger had been here.

The following morning we were woken by the sound of horns, for governor Elasander must have traveled through the night. At dawn, before the gates of Daenost he called out Athmund to face him in single combat as is the custom of the Rhudaur king's. He stepped forwards immediately, but it was his step-father that reminded him that it was his privilege, and Elasander must first fight him before he might challenge any of his sons. So it was that Athel took the challenge and stepped forwards to face the governor.

The fight was short, Athel is a man of great wisdom and not an inconsiderable number of years, and his foe wielded the great longsword that is named Iron Wind amongst men. Athel landed a single telling blow before he was struck down. Then Boreg, Athel's eldest son stepped forwards to take the challenge for such was his right - though Boreg was in always the chancellor not the warrior, but Athel would not hear of it and none would gainsay him.

So taking his grandfather's spear in one hand and his father's falchion in the other, he stepped forwards. The spear he threw and it struck true, it's great weight passing through the field plate to bite deep, deeper than he knew I suspect, for behind his back Sevenday had applied his most deadly venom to that blade. But even as the venom bit, so did Iron Wind, and even though Athmund lay several great blows on the governor, he could not withstand that blade and he also was cut down.

Now behind these two fallen stepkin the host of the Athel clan had mounted and were ready for war, Elasander could see this and spared them both from any coup de grace. Rather he banished them from these lands and they accepted the judgment and left forthwith. I now rest with the men one day south and await the womenfolk who travel south to join us.

There has been much talk of what right this Arthedain man has to claim any trail by combat from a Rhudaur King, but Athmund will not hear any such council and is bound by his honour and shame. I will travel with them to the borders of these lands and then return to make a more full report in person.

 

Harald Hradssen, Agent to the Court of Arvegil

My lord, though I send this message with all haste, nevertheless I fear that as you read it, the outcomes of our actions will be history. Surely the spring snows will mean that you can make no effective response before the thaw. Treat the messenger well for it will cost her dear to carry this report so far.

We have escorted the young prince Athmund south to his inheritance and he has met with stiff resistance. Elasander's court was forewarned and the ground well prepared though they deny having received word from your court. Further complicating matters was the presence of the Athel clan, and the Prince's stepfather held hostage by the governor.

We have however, elicited Athel's rescue and reunited him with his kin, having evaded a potentially lethal engagement. I have to report that, in an unlikely turn-about of fortunes, we managed to take several of our ambushers hostage including Captain Etamir and eight men-at-arms of the Elnost garrison. The ambush was turned when the crossbowmen holding the Northern flank were recalled from the fight, and I judge from Etamir's bitterness that this was not in the plan.

Etamir is the King's man as always, however the stubbornness and loyalty that earned him this posting ensure that he will not accept Elasander's disloyalty until he sees some proof. This is a cause of some vexation because a word from him and the keys to Daenost would be ours.

Daenost stands half a mile beyond our campfires for we have now formed a warband with the fifty cavalry of Athel's clan and by threatening this small town hope to draw Elasander from the fortress at Elnost and into the open. If we could take Daenost with little or no loss of life then he will be forced to confront us and we would have a much stronger position however, I think Athel is loath to cast his fifty against the thirty garrison here. In the first instance it may cost him dear, and in the second these thirty garrison are his to command if he can come into his inheritance.

My main concern now is Sereth, as we lie out here in the night, I know that serpent could be within an arrowshot of my bedroll. I do not sleep easy.

 

Fiorla, Field Agent to King Arvegil

The party has divided, Prince Athmund remains at Daenost with myself, Bonehead and the thrall, Davy. The remainder, head to Elnost with the intention of releasing the captive Athel and his sons by stealth. The concern is that upon detection of their rescue, at a signal between the fortresses, action might be taken against the womenfolk of Athel's clan. We wait on word from our fellows or a sign of danger and we will rescue the women.

Meanwhile the rescuers will lead Athel in the freeing of his men, in the knowledge that their kin are likewise led to safety and the two, reuinited can rearm. It is a risky plan, and I do not like it, but to his credit Athmund will not countenance assasination and that leaves few avenues open to us.

We await news nervously.

Fiorla, Field Agent to King Arvegil

We travelled south from the confrontation with the Nebbelscrath to meet with the absconded sellsword, Gilfin. Athmund had offered the mercenary quarter in return for service and Gilfin had taken the oath. In the first battle, having stood over the fallen prince, in his own mind, he had returned the favour. He then departed taking with him the Prince's hereditary symbol - The Herufa leaving a note instructing us that it would be exchanged in returned for his property. The exchange was made and Athmund, on the southernmost peak of the Emil Thule sent the traitor hence.

Following the conclusion of this business, the Green Man - a shepherd of the forests that once covered these parts - revealed himself as witness to the events and good to his word restored the sundered spear 'Great Oak' to it's former glory. Athmund now bears his grandfather's spear rustling with a weight of leaves that seeems to have some mastery over wooden things cast in anger against him.

The spear soon prooved it's value, for travelling south we were set upon by bandits, the great majority of their arrows seemed destined only for Athmund, and though many were turned aside through the power of the spear, on found it's mark and prooved later to be poisoned. The young king prooved that it takes a great dose to keep him from the saddle and the force of nearly a score were ridden down. None escaped and one was taken prisoner - though he knew little, the Arthedain coin that he and the others all bore spoke volumes to me.

We have now reached the town of Daenost and our scouts have reported that there is an encampent of Athmund's kinfolk held under guard on the outskirts. From the state of the camp, they are held under duress and have been there for about a week. The menfolk, we have discovered are held separately at Elnost though their arms and armour rest here and they are bound to good behaviour by order of their clan leader Athel, who with his son's rests at the pleasure of Governer Ellasander.

As we entered the town we have also witnessed a hanged man, pinned to his breats, this message: "This theif and imposter hanged for conterfeiting the name of the King, treasonous encitement, bearing false witness and perjury. By Order, Governer Ellasander." It appears, coincidentally that someone came before us with some incredible claim bearing the stamp of King Arvegil - the message seems clear enough.

What will the young prince order? It seems a perilous cause to approach the governer directly - and yet there is no other authority of the royal court here. I doubt that they have not received the command sent by the King's messenger, and yet to ignore it would be treasonous. Arvegil knows what a nest of vipers rule the court here, my reports have been dangerously frank. But this prince has shown courage and resourcefulness before - I suspect that he can prevail, though he must now learn caution.

A note found pinned to the body of an Orc in the aftermath of the battle with the Nebelscrath

Lord Athmud, I have in my own mind repaid the debt of your forebearance - it remains now for you to return to me the ring and my other properties as was promised. I swore to myself that I would see that ring returned to it's rightful owner and that oath is stands before any given under the sword. When the deed is done you may have my service back if you wish it.

This last line hastily scribbled on the back of the note.

I have your bauble and will exchange it with you for what is mine tomorrow evening at the well where the path splits south of Tir Na Madoch.

That Dark Threshold

Cerilaragloras

Three days ago we slew one of the enemies rangers, he commanded a group of yrch and a pack of dogs and ambushed us as we crossed enemy territory to the town of Frostreach. The encounter will always be memorable to me for it marked the day I passed from youth to adulthood. My belief in the essential goodness of those of my race was forever lost for the ranger was an elf, nay worse, a sylvan elf. Whilst in our hearts we long to believe that there is something that sets us apart from the more greedy children of Iluvatar so in fact we must grow apart from these youthful fancies and accept the wisdom of adulthood.

I have donned the armour and cygnet ring borne by my brother, and his corpse, packed in snow and bound in hides, is strapped to a mule at my side. I intend to take him and all of the news I have gathered to Imladris and take advice from the council there.

In the meantime however, I appear to have attracted the attentions, and no doubt sworn revenge of another ranger. Bearing the same finely crafted ermine lined chainmail that I now wear be confronted me at the battle for Frostreach calling me out and demanding blood for blood. If it were not for the ensorcelment of Fiorla's song he would have finished me there and then, for he cut me down to the ground and though he stood over me with murder in his eyes, he could not gather his wits to finish the job. On the trip back to the encampment at Cripplewood he ambushed again and put an arrow in me as I slept about the horses neck, were it not for the speed and bravery of the Nogrothrim a second arrow would have sent me to over that dark threshold.

So I am a marked man, and I think that the hunter is clever enough to trap his prey whilst I travel in such noisy company. I will let them go ahead, they know that he is there, but I suspect he will only strike at me for he has not the bravery for an open fight. I will follow along in my turn, trailing them on the expectation that he will also be in the wilds looking on. My wounds are grave but whilst there is breath in me I swear I shall see this ranger dead.

Counting the Dead

Captain Farbrook 4th Lancers, Campaign Diary

Battle was joined at sunset, though the sun was obscured by a significant snowfall and a slight fog. Spotters had observed both signal fire and a conflict at the gate which they reported was both open and partially disabled. My Lord Eastfield sent a probing attack of skirmishers from the 7th forwards to close quarters so that they could signal back to the heavies of the 4th. The signal was sent and the heavy cavalry charged four abreast through the gate.

The enemy disposition was fifteen forest trolls, unarmed and set in loose skirmish formation on the apron just within the gate, and some fifty orcs in chainmail and shield with light crossbows and light infantry weapons.

We engaged the trolls immediately and sought a breakthrough to get amongst the orcs as soon as possible. Unfortunately, fighting forest trolls from horseback in such close quarters hampered progress significantly until Captain Rufus had led the Pioneers in a collapse of the palisade to the left of the gate. Once this breach was established we were able to get through in numbers and the orcs were swiftly neutralised. The trolls took some time to break down and we sustained heavy losses in doing so. Securing the remainder of the town was done without loss.

In signaling the attack, the infiltrators had chosen to light the beacon fire in addition to setting fire to a terraced group of buildings (the reason given that the bad visibility might have obscured sight of initial signal). This was deemed unfortunate as we would have to assume the worst case - that reinforcements could reach us within four hours. Although we could not see any responding signal fires as visibility was poor, we had to assume that in the first instance orc sight is far superior to ours in nighttime and secondly that there may be mystic enhancements to the signaling provision.

The Pioneers set about the destruction of the encampment whilst Cavalry guarded the few buildings in which orcish non-combatants and routed troops were hiding.

I must report that during this final demolition and acquisition phase, the two Dwarves in the infiltration party took prisoners for interrogation. Examination of the corpses after the fact revealed that some of the questioning had used very direct methods. These two dwarves then progressed directly to a pocket of invalided orcs bottled up in the infirmary where they proceeded to slay every one of the incumbents. In the process one of the two dwarves, chased the last of the invalids out into the street and after taking terrible blows that almost slew him where he stood, he was seized by a laughing fit and returned like for like taking the head clean off the last orc.

Unarrived Cavalry

Captain Farbrook 4th Lancers, Campaign Diary

We have taken position beyond a ridge within a mile of the town of Frostreach, pickets have been set at 200 pace separation with four men apiece. There is a medium to heavy snowfall with light winds, visibility is reduced to 500 paces.

The Royal Pioneers have taken up stations 500 paces to our rear and have uncoupled the drays and harnessed them ready to pull down the pallisade as necessary, we have no barding for them however, but in the absence of any infantry this may have to be our last resort.

Forward observers have been stationed at 200 pace intervals down to within sight of the main gate and northern pallisade. If there is no sign of a signal fire within an hour of darkness we will assume the gate cannot be taken and we will attack at the north wall. The main objective for the 4th will be to take the signal beacon, if this can be disabled could we press our advantage towards Giant's Tooth and the bridge?

Lord Ederial, Chief Recorder to the Court of King Arvegil II

Let the record's show that on the twenty-fifth day of the 1671 year of the Third Age, the Second Army of Fornost under the command of his most Royal Majesty King Arvegil the Second is stood to at its new found redoubt at the Western Reaches of Cripplewood Marsh. We have established a foothold on the Eastern Bank of the River Mitheithel using two longboats carried overland across the wastes from Lake Nenuial and thirty rafts built on the river's Western shore. Nine thousand men are encamped here ready for battle, each sworn to avenge the abduction of the princess Alquawen, betrothed to our most beloved King. We are far from home, deep into the territories of the Rhudaur, occupied by our twin enemies the murderous despot Brogha, who sits ont he throne of Cameth Brin and his neighbour, the Witch King of Angmar, whose sinister hand can be sensed in the abduction.

Many rumours have been heard of a second army of orcs to the North of Cameth Brin, and no man amongst the host relishes the prospect of a winter seige, especially against the fortress capital of Rhudaur. So as the news of the rescue of the betrothed princess reached the frozen bivouacs of the encamped army, a great cheer went up and the men rushed forwards to catch a glimpse of the rescue party. Our noble King stood amongst his men, awaiting the rescuers at the camp entrance, and it was plain for all to see that as their leader introduced himself as Athmud the Second, true king of Rhudaur, this was to be as a meeting of brothers long separated. The King announced that there was to be a feast of celebration, but reminded all men that we stood as an army in an enemy land, and that we must not let our vigilance fail us.

The story of the rescue of Princess Alquawen was presented to the court of Arvegil by the Lady Fiorla and is recorded elsewhere. The King listened carefully interupting rarely for the sake of clarification. After the story was told, the King in turn was able to fill in some of the unkown areas, for he revealed to the assembled court and his noble kinsman the Palantir of Amun Sul, carried with the host and used to reveal the dispositions of our enemies. The mythical stone held every eye in the room entranced, saving only those of our King and his royal neighbour. By this strength of will we all knew for truth, that which our king had known at their first meeting, this man Athmund was trully of the royal line of kings, and a master of the great stone that is held in safe-keeping by our noble King.

After a short interlude, the refreshed heroes were presented to his Majesty the King and his court, whereupon the King formally made his thanks and the Lady Alquawen presented two gifts to show her gratitude, the first to reward the unstinting courage, grace and dignity of the Rhudaur King, and the second to extend the hand of eternal friendship from her family to that of her kinsman. The first gift was taken from what was to be her dowry to our King, but by his great grace he waived all rights to it. And so King Athmund was gifted the great war maul known as Uruk Mahl or Kinslayer, taken as a talisman from the Giant Veerash slain by the hand of Lord Summerfield of Caras Fornen. The second gift, that of friendship, was the quiver known as Goldeneye, from which arrows drawn are imbued with a magical potency. A gift was given in turn by the King Athmund, the double crossed swords, borne by Lady Alquawen's captors and taken from them in single combat by his noble hand.

After the presentations were made, a feast followed the king appologised for the sparse tabe but we were all reminded that this was a battlefield and all must make sacrifices. After the meal, toasts were made and the poet laureate entertained us with what she assured us was a work in progress, but that surely promises to be an epic piece. The inner court then repaired to the King's chambers and preparations were made for war.

We are assured that now that the Lady Alquawen is rescued our goal has changed - the goblin horde that had been encamped to the east of Cameth Brin has been paid of an sent back to the Misty Mountains. Meanwhile the supplies that Cameth Brin has been providing to the Orc encampment of the West Gate Army of Angband have been stopped, and it is assumed that the upstart Brogha has entreated the army to return to its garrison quarters. It appears however, that the Orc army has demured and has moved South on Cameth Brin where it is now deployed on the field of battle. Our King informs us that in supplying his mercenary armies so completely, Brogha had hoped that in removing those supply lines his dangerous allies would fall back unsupllied. What he had not counted on was that the orc army had been both stock-piling the supplies from Cameth Brin and resupplying from Angband.

The King's plan is to send an expeditionary force to the north around the West Gate Army's right flank and capture or destroy the supply dump at Frost Reach, twenty miles north of Cameth Brin. To this end he has proposed to send the 4th and 7th Lancers and the Royal Pioneers up the Mitheithel for thirty miles and then have them stand by whilst scouts observe Frost Reach. Meanwhile a small group of fearless men will approach the outpost, disable its defences and signal the way is clear with a significant fire. For this task, King Athmund unhesitatingly stepped forwards.

Toreg

Once you had left me in that loft I knew that I could not wait, I am a soldier and would rather die with a sword in my hand than hide like a wretch. I determined to return to Cameth Brin, though this time not as a courtier but as a soldier - I still have friends in the fortress who are less than loyal to the murderous Brogha, I would seek them out and see what I could do.

Entrance was easy, I have been through the Funitir a thousand times - I know the routines and the passwords, and within a few hours I was being led down through that maze of deadly traps and into the enemey's lair. My entrance was made easier by all of the disturbance, that your exploits in the dungeons had stired up. It seems that your presence had been discovered - and Brogha was furiously demanding to know how the Funitiri guards had missed your entrance. Furthermore it seems that General Malkur had taken advantage of the confusion and escaped his confines.

Quickly it was established that you must have entered through one of the secret ways, and Brogha wasted little time in dispatching a significant force to await your emergence through Brok's caves. The remainder of the garisson was set to full alert for now a reprisal from the orc armies could be expected. Knowing that there was rumoured to be a second more secret exit from the fortress, I guessed that the king would send a much smaller force (maybe protecting it's secrecy) to investigate the area of it's emergence. I arranged to be in that force along with my most trusted friends, furthermore I was also able to ensure that the remainder of the force was made up of soldiers of lower moral fiber.

Sure enough duty Seargeant Finlan was instructed to take a score of cavalry up to the area near Skull Tor and perform searching sweeps "to keep an eye out for orc scouts", I joined with them. By nightfall, you were spotted and we engaged you once you had moved onto the open steppe. I and my three brave comrades attempted to disrupt the cavalry charge and the sixteen remaining warriors were soon routed.

So here we are, under the stars, not four miles from Cameth Brin to the south and the Westgate Army to the northeast, I take it that we should head west and seek out the expeditionary army and our kingly neighbour?

The Trolls 'Map'

My Lord, I write this note in clear because our cipher has been discovered and time presses, even as I write Bravin languishes in the dungeons under the attentions of Maschbram, he is not a brave man, I have prepared a draught of white yew. I trust this note to the hands of our second agent who I commend to you as your most loyal servant.

Cameth Brin Dispositions

170 Guardsmen drawn from the five loyal families, about half of these are veterans battle or have some skirmishing experience, chiefly in horse raiding, or hunting orcs and their like. They are chiefly clad in chain mail and in the main equipped with axes, swords, shields, pikes, polearms, crossbows and bows.
120 Clansmen are drawn from the kings family they are fiercely loyal, and all battle hardened and very experienced, they are similarly equipped and mix freely with the guardsmen, in principal they are treated equally however on the battlefield that would change.
50 Bodyguards to the king again drawn from his own clan and representing the fighting elite of the garrison - they wear plate mail and great shields and they fight with a collection of potent family heirlooms, axes, swords, maces and flails.
Half of this force is easily capable of defending the fortress, which draws extra strength from its elaborate defensive construction.

Cameth Brin Defenses

I will not dwell on the considerable defenses of the ancient fortress, as time presses, suffice to say that they are well reported elsewhere and it is my belief that conventional assault is not possible. However, what is also well known, is that Cameth Brin is a tower, built on a fortress, built on a dungeon, built on a mine - there are several secret entrances to this place, I record two of them here.

The first entrance emerges at a small group of caves two miles east of the fortress, the caves have been an occasional home for various troll groups and their presence is tolerated as it discourages the inquisitive. However it was recently decided that a besieging army would soon see off these guardians and discover the entrance so a plan is being devised to dislodge the trolls and either collapse or so disguise the tunnel as to make it safe. The tunnel connects to an underground stream that travels beneath the fortress to the Ureithel which is its source - the entrance is close to the dungeons and at the base of the fortress so would provide the best route for an attack. If the passage is passable you can find the caves at the base of a small valley some 500 yards south of a quarry from which Cameth Brin drew much of its stone.

The second passage leads from the kings chambers to the ancient dwarvern mines, and from there to a hidden exit some three miles north of the fortress. This way is used by the king and as such is very secure, with complex locks and traps along the way. Furthermore it travels through the mines which are haunted by evil undying things and make a treacherous passage, I believe that the king bears a potent symbol that affords him protection. The entrance lies at the base of the eastern flank a hill topped by a tor that bears a pair of standing stones and a blasted oak. There is a great smooth stone beneath which a spring emerges - the door is hidden in the face of it.

Conversations Overheard

Toreg Athelsman

As you know my friend when we last met, Lord Athel had sent out instructions to prepare for the clan's exodus south towards Gondor. Our situation here in Rhudaur was no longer tenable, we would never beg the Arthedain for succor, so it was to the south that we looked. What was not said was that the spur to your stepfather's flank was Broggha's summons to Cameth Brin of all of the Thengyn and Requain of Rhudaur. Suspecting the hidden hand of Angband, we anticipated that Broggha would declare an alliance with the Witch King against the Arthedain and demand a reaffirmation of loyalty.

So I volunteered to go in Athel's stead and attempt through prevarications and diplomacy to hide the clan's departure for as long as possible. I traveled that night, in the immediate aftermath of the declaration to the clan, on the fastest horse and the most direct of routes. Even so, at my arrival I was anticipated and arrested - our enemies had somehow received word of Athel's treasonous flight.

I was taken to the dungeons of Cameth Brin and there I was questioned, not about Athel's flight but about you Athmund, and your companion Osiris. At first I imagined that they had guessed the nature of your birthright, but it was not that which was most pressing, it was the eye that you bore, that was what they sought. I was questioned for some time at the hands of the cruel shield maiden Wilda - I know not what I revealed for she used strange alchemics upon me and I passed into feverish dreams. We must assume though that they now know of you and your true father.

It was in the following days, as I recovered that I began to hear the sounds of more interrogations from a nearby cell. Now you must understand that I have traveled to Caras Fornen many times and am well acquainted with the Lord of that place. I have known his daughter Alquawen since her youth and was unsurprised when her charms and good looks attracted attention in court. Since then, as you well know she has become affianced to King Arvegil. What you may not know is that she is possessed of a voice so shrill and a nature so shrewish that even through the echoing dungeon corridors I would not fail to recognise her demands to be released.

My friends I have no doubts that the fiance to the king is being held prisoner in the dungeons of Cameth Brin. Furthermore, from what you tell me of the preparations of an army, and what I know of the nature of the youthful Arthedain king, I can draw only one conclusion and it is a fell one.

Sylvan Perspective

Cerilaragloras

The adan city was like a cauldron of emotion, pressing against my spirit, but not merely due to the surrounding filthy Yrch. It seems, in their inimitable manner, that in the time of desperation they had found a few of their own to put to death, somehow to assuage their own feelings of impending doom. I am glad I am with such that merely bicker amongst themselves. Even the company of the nogothrim, even the sogannen naug, is preferable than this pit of ugliness. The buildings lack grace, the smell disgusting, the people unwashed and foul.

However we made our way into the centre, whereupon we saw the procession, with a poor wretch of a man upon a cart being taken to be hung. Truly a sight to behold, but one that made me sick to my stomach. Should someone be killed, then let it be as swift as it may and the idea of public spectacle and the ugly joy shown by the people, well... I try not to judge for the
sake of my compatriots, but what I saw that day still sullies my thoughts of the adan. I am sure Mandos has spelt out their future in this world, and I leave it to him, but I can only hope that they do not spill this kind of ugliness across the west. They fight the Yrch, they struggle against the dark and for that I have hope. Let Elbereth shine her light upon them from the darkness of the skies, let them open their eyes and see.

Athmund, of course, recognised the man. A servant of his family's it seems. It was enough for the noegol and Athmund, who dived in at the guardsmen, to rescue the man. Brave but foolish, as we were within a heavily guarded walled town, where were we to go when the reinforcements came? The guards reacted as they should, attacking all that they saw as enemy, and we were
all forced to take arms against them. After a bloody skirmish leaving a number of them dead or unconscious and us all wounded. An adaneth knowing the songs of old entered the fray, and without her we would be dead or manacled facing the hangman's noose ourselves. She was disguised as a Rhurdur warrior, but wielded a rapier rather than their customary weaponry
with skill, and through her song seemed to be well night impossible to strike. She lead us away through the streets, well known to her it seems, with the prisoner released by the peroannath to a seeming dead end. It seemed that she was well known to Athmund, and there was a resemblance, though in the chaos I did not yet know how close they were.

However it seemed this adaneth was exceptionally well prepared, leading us through an elaborate escape plan involving the burning of a candler makers, leaving prepared bodies behind to make it seem we were all dead in the fires, whereas in fact we escaped through a collapsing tunnel. At the end of it we were left free, if wounded and singed, with the captive released. Remarkable.

For all their weaknesses and faults, there are amongst the adan a precious few who rise far above their fellows. Could it be that the blood of Numenor can be found even amongst such as these? Or is it that these base folk have a doom greater than we know? My association with them since the loss of my brother is strange and without reason, but it seems our paths continue together. Perhaps it is that Athmund can truly lead them to the light of Varda, or at least away from what I saw. He is a noble and brave man, if somewhat tortured. I trust in Orome to lead me forward in my part on this.

Of course the noegol are like stone, unchanging, and how the sogannen naug managed to retrieve two glass demi-jons of that alcohol I will never know and will never ask.

Death by Fire

Owain

Of course I recognised Fiorla as soon as I set eyes on her, she may have got herself up to look like a hillman from the human perspective, but the view from down here is all small feet and dainty riding boots. She saw me too and gave me a wink and as the executioners cart passed by she took the opportunity for a quick hello. We were just setting up a rendez-vous when wham, Rocky delivers a haymaker to one of the execution party and Athmund is following in yelling "No Blades, no blades".

In no time at all we are in the midst of a scrap, and there's plenty want some.. There are eight guards and the executioner with the prisoner but they are already calling for help and the town is crawling with soldiers. Fiorla's not one to be shaken up though - she gives me a key and directs me to the candlemakers two block's down to the left - "Make sure its empty and unlocked ready for us, we may be in a hurry".

"No shit" I reply, but just for the hell of it before I slip away, I quickly cut the bonds holding the comdemned up - not that he'll get far on his own though - looks like he's been on the rack. That's when I notice that it's Toreg - Athel's aide and Athmund's teacher - well rude not to, I slap one of the pony's arse's and move it over to the cart, then leaving him to get on it, I'm away for the candlemaker's. Looks like Fiorla is getting stuck in as I slip past - she's taking on four of them and singing up a storm.

Dodging past a couple more guards I make the store, its open and there's a storekeep in there. "Time to go" says I flashing out my sword - he's not fazed and calm as you like he picks up a holdall and with a wink and a touch of the nose he's off. I have a sniff about the place, looks like he does a lot of rendering and distilling in here as well, the place is a tinderbox.

In short order our heros stagger in - looking quite knocked about as well and with Toreg swinging over Rocky's shoulder. Well Fiorla seems to have prepared the place - there are no windows and no back door and outside of the now barred front doors we can hear sounds of fifty or more foot soldiers putting together a ram. "Last stand then?" I ask.

But no - there's a tunnel out from underneath, but first there's some bodies to be pulled out of caskets and an accident to be set up with an oil flask. Well in short order the guard smash down the door and after a minute or two of fighting a misstep and a stumble brings a couple of barrels of oil crashing down into the doorway. From there its just a simple matter of jamming us all down the tunnel and collapsing it behind us.

It's evening now and we've emerged into a stable-block, from the hayloft we can see the fire still burning bright - I imagine there'll be nothing left of those corpses by the time it goes out. We are the dead.

Crossroads

Cerilaragloras

I will never fail to be amazed at my cloth-eared brothers in arms. We were carried before the goblin army in the arms of Orome, his glorious song filling the air about us, and they marvelled that the eye did not slow us down. The great eagles bear the chantress' to us and they wondered that amidst the song of Manwe our horses did not flee. And now as we leave the singing halls of Sacred Heart where all the fair races of Iluvatu gather to weave the songs of making they are not yet moved to tears but rather keen to be back in the saddle and at our enemies (whoever they may be).

We have travelled for one day and spent a cold night in the mountains, here and there are traces of a once great road, though now it ses scant use - I have spied trails and horse spoor maybe a month old.

On the second morning the road passed down a steep valley the gorge at its base is spanned by an ancient viaduct, human build from greater ages of their dominion in these parts. As we aproached, we were stoped in our tracks by a huge river rock thrown across the valley by a giant on the other side. At least twice, maybe three times our height and bearing a huge blade he looked like a dangerous opponent. The giant indicated a sign for us to read and in another's hand were written the terms of our crossing - our weight in horseflesh would secure passage. It was signed on behalf of Stoneheart the giant, with the rider that in the authors view the giant would be amenable to trading suitable hardware or alternative food. Our self appointed leader, the king in waiting (I half calculated that he is one eleventh of my age!) Athmund the Great decided to haggle for passage and in the end Crabapple, our appropriated carthorse stood passage for us all. The Drunkard dwarf somehow persuaded the giant to give up a cask of foul tasting mead, I do not know what he has fermented to brew it but it would have been better left to rot.

Our passage has brought us from the foothills of the Misty mountains to a crossroads high on the Southern Ettinmoors. Here we met with Harald - hunting for us, his eagle companion had led him (been guided by the chantress' will) to this desolate spot. There was a debate, principally between Peasant Harald and King Athmund, wherein the peasant revealed that he was servant to the court of Arthedain, and the King refused in principal to do his bidding. Ah but, should the King find himself in the region to the west of Talugdaeri then he might be inclined to estimate troop numbers and if he were in the town itself and happened across the Arthedain agent there he might let those numbers be known. So the great accord of Godforsakenland was reached, King Athmund would not be the servant of the Arthedain, and yes he would check out the build-up of orcs and goblins and report back immediately. As for me - I kept myself warm and refletched some of those lousy arrows picked up at Tir Elenath.

Our passage North through the warg rider pickets was suprisingly uninteresting. We avoided major confrontations and through a combination of stealth, cunning, machismo and raw luck we established an acurate picture of troop numbers. Only one event is worth mentioning, a few miles south of the picket lines Baran departed our company, the great hound so recently never far from Osiris' side slipped away in the night. In the morning we followed his trail for an hour or so and were met by him at the side of a mysterious stranger. Friendly enough, he introduced himself as Radagast, a traveller who had walked at one time and another with the dog. We spoke pleasantries and swapped news of the road, and then he departed with the hound at his side.

Interlude

High Chantress Ethilian

14th Day, 10th Month Sister Athleen has come to me with news of her brother Athmund, she has finally found him and under her influence, his brotherhood has turned to the East. They travel with the blessing of Orome which works to ease the tombstone weight of their burden and speed their journey, just as well beacuse though they do not know it, they fly before the Swithern's goblin army travelling North East to the gathering.

15th Day 10th Month I have forbidden Athleen from drawing the brotherhood any nearer whilst they bear the eye, it risks revelation of sacred heart and that cannot be permitted. Athleen has instead taken Sisters Glorianna and Phoebe to meet them - they are borne by the great eagles and will attempt to destroy the eye before leading the brotherhood to Sacred Heart. I fear that they will not have the strength to overcome the artefact and no good will come of it. I have forbidden them from permitting it to come any closer, if they fail in it's destruction, then it will have to be delivered to the elves - they are closer to Aule, and will know how to deal with it.

17th Day 10th Month Yesterday, Sister's Glorianna and Phoebe returned on the eagles bearing numerous wounds, the body of Athleen and a terrible tale. They travelled West and met with the brotherhood on the evening of the 16th, they describe a difficult reunion between the two siblings, there were many questions and much discussion. Finally in the middle of the night they began the song of unmaking and bent their will to the eye - after several hours, the eye began to resonate with the song and before it could be struck appart it came alive. For several seconds Athleen was held transfixed in it's gaze before the Dwarf Braggi stepped forwards and struck it. The eye shattered into thousands of parts wounding all present, and Athleen fell into a dead feint from which she has not these two days recovered.

The brotherhood have been lead to Sacred Heart though I have not yet interviewed them.

Mopping Up Process

Sergeant Spignot

Well master, we did as you would have wished and obeyed our treacherous captain - it was him who insists that we storm the tower and take trophies. When they beats us, as you predicted master, the treacherous captain ordered the tower fired - it was me who made sure of the preparation of the brushwood fuel as you ordered master, and it was me who set the light and saw to it that it caught master, that was where Sergeant Tig was murdered by that treacherous hobbitses master.

We pulls back and then the captain finally does as he was told to and we steps back and takes our shots at them when they comes out the top of the tower. That had em panicy like and they starts jumping off the top - we got that snob elf good as he comes down all careful like and then the dwarf goes mad an just leaps. Well anyways them and another charge in and we have formed in ranks like. But they pick out the traitor captain who's in the front so as to make up for is screw up and save face like. Well the captain knocks out a lucky strike and whips off the snob elf's head clean as a whistle, but the he's gutted by a spear from this huge warrior they've got.

Well anyways I was thinking that I needed to make this report so I chooses this as a wise point to get away and regroup myself. Anyways - they don't persue us cause we fall back in good order and about a dozen of us gets away.

Funny thing is before we heads back to the main group, we went back to the tower, an hour or two laters and they've gone. What's more they haven't done no looting or nothing - we picked up the alchemics and our kit bags and yomped it back to camp.

Tir Elenath

Owain

There was smoke rising from the tower ahead. Was that where our Quarry had holed up for the night? Braggi and I agreed to scout ahead. We entered through the sally port at the rear. Having scouted the stairwell, there seemed to be no one about. The other joined us. Having entered through the less obvious entrance, perhaps we had by-passed our enemy's guard?

Secure the front gate 1st. No one there! Osiris was the first to spot the crude trap rigged by the door. Just as well we did not come that way. We were alerted that something was afoot, but what. Upstairs a warm fire burned in the hearth. Had they heard us on the stairwell? We rushed to the roof. That was our mistake.

The goblins had been waiting for us all along, and roused by their leaders they streamed from the snow covered trench in which they had concealed themselves. Osiris had a go at Braggi, but fortunately Athmund was able to calm them down. While the others rushed down to the safer defensive positions below, only Owain was left on the exposed roof top to slow up the enemy. With his little bow, and later his sling, Owain rained a stream of missiles down upon goblin hoard. Such was the effectiveness of Owain's archery, that two troops of goblins, almost 30 men, slowed up, and used volley fire to make Owain's position on the rooftop untenable.

Fiercely wounded, with an arrow that had gone right through his right shoulder Owain struggled down to the archery level. Athmund shouted up from the stairwell that Owain should get the Smaug Idol, and use it to flush out the goblins bottled up in the antechamber. Smaug's firebreath worked beautifully. As the goblins streamed out of the tower, they took heavy losses as the archers picked off the singed goblins. Positioning Smaug by the murder hole to be used again, Owain checked how Athmund and Braggi were doing, making sure Braggi knew where the idol was should it be needed again.

Back on the archery level, Owain heard the sound of breaking glass. Going to investigate their were shards of glass on the floor, and a pungent smell. Alchemical attack. Quick thinking, Owain spread his cloak over the acid, to
suppress the fumes, then another broke behind him. Getting bedding from the bedrooms, he was able to suppress this too before Athmund and Braggi (retreating up the stairs) were in danger of being affected.

The stout defence by all, and the frustration of the goblin subterfuges, lead to a general retreat by the enemy. Braggi, an expert in the ways of crafty goblins pointed out that the haste in escaping may mean worse was to come. While the rest of the party rained fire on the goblins, Owain snuck down the stairs to investigate, only to find himself toe to toe with the goblin chief. A grim struggle on the staircase took place, as Owain protected the archer's backs. Owain's skill at arms and advantageous positioning eventually gained the upper hand, and Braggi snatched the goblins scimitar as tongues of flame licked at him. The tower had been set alight.

Owain rushed up to warn the others. As the goblins gained the safety of the trench what would this band of heroes do?

Tir Elenath

Osiris

It was Owain’s screech that alerted us to danger. There below us, on the approaches to the tower, a dark mass streamed towards us. Goblins.

“A trap! To arms!”

Athmund grabbed up his spear as Ceri and myself unslung our bows from our backs. The dwarf, Braggi, hesitated.

“You see to the holding of the main gate whilst Ceri and I give them fire from above.”

The group ran as one from the roof of the tower. The goblins were fast and would be at the entrance nearly as soon as we.

“Why should I go?”guffed Braggi “I’m no fighter!”

“We’ll all be dead, fighters or no, if you don’t hold them. Here, take my shield, it will serve you well enough.”

We all ran headlong down the stairs, leaping them two at a time. Ceri and I took our posts at the arrow slits that guarded the approach. The goblins were almost on us already. Behind the vanguard, ominously came a group behind Mantlets. We set to shoot them straight away but their cover was good and it took us a few shots to get the range.

Downstairs, Athmund and the dwarf barrelled into the gate room to find the goblins almost upon them. The main gate, half broken from it’s hinges would not hold them long so Braggi, an engineer by all accounts, put his dwarven skills to use and desperately tried to shore up the door to buy the archers precious time. Behind him, Athmund searched for timber to help bar the way.

Above the gate Ceri and I did our best to thin their numbers but it seemed there were a great many of them, perhaps three-score in total. Nor were they weak creatures by any account and had had combat training by their formation and order. Finally, we were able to bring down, first one then two of the Mantlet carriers but it seemed all they carried were smoking bundles of grass. A diversion! ‘Tricksie Goblins’, as Owain would say.

By this time the goblin war-band had broken through the main gate and Athmund and Braggi were forced to retreat to the inner door of the gate room which the dwarf had had the foresight to prepare as an extra defence. So close were the goblins on their heels that they nearly lost that door straight away but by force of will and strong arm they were able to slam home the bolts and a take a quick breath before the ominous sound of axe on wood met their ears on the other side of the door.

Ceri and I finished the last few goblins that had not already reached the tower when at my side I heard such a wailing I believed for a second that I stood on a child’s toe. Instead though it was Owian, hopping from foot to foot and clawing at my side.

“Give me the dragon. Give me the dragon!” he screamed.
“Athmund told me, the dragon, the dragon.”

I tossed him the little statuette that held the dragon’s breath and returned to the job at hand – a few goblin archers brought up the rear and were still fair game for Ceri and myself.

“Just don’t give him the damn shard no matter what he says”, I said to Ceri who grinned and felled another goblin.

Suddenly a great “woomf!” filled our ears immediately followed by high-pitched squeals of pain. At first I though Owain had hurt himself again but no, he had used the statuette against the goblins in the gate-room below. In that confined space there was no escape and the fetid smell of burnt animal wafted up through the tower.

“I got them!, I got them!” shouted the hobbit, “ I saved your lives”.

The fight was far from over however and elsewhere real work was still to be done. The goblins that hadn’t been killed by the flames rushed from the gate room and gave us new targets for our arrows.

It was not long however before the main force attacked and were able to break down the now charred and weakened inner door. Athmund and Braggi met them on the stairs and began to fight a slow retreat upwards.

Outisde we heard the clink of piton in stone and realised the evil creatures were scaling the walls. “To the roof!”, shouted Ceri.

As we reached the roof, Braggi and Athmund fought on the stairs. The front line of the goblins, now able to reach their quarry, pressed hard against them. Braggi fought with short sword and shield whilst Athmund used his spear but found it too constricting on the tight spiral stair of the tower.

Elsewhere Owain was quick to spot, pots of some foul ichor, thrown through the arrows slits on the floor above and set to dealing with them. As soon as he tried however, he was nearly overcome with their fumes, and had to search for debris in the tower to smother them.

From the roof Ceri and myself looked down upon goblins climbing the walls and many more at their foot, including the rest of the archers. We began to pick them off as they came up although the goblins returned fire, and even though we had the cover of the battlements, their numbers told and Ceri was struck with a lucky shot that took him deep in the shoulder.

By now, though our arrows were beginning to tell and Athmund and Braggi’s defence was paying off. Even the goblin captain was unable to push past the two defenders and no sooner had the assault started than they began to pull back.

A brief respite was quickly replaced by alarm as we smelt smoke and a cloud of it began to billow up the stairwell. They would smoke us from the tower or see us burn!

All of our party then came to the roof and as myself and Ceri picked off a final goblin or so as they fled the others prepared an escape route from the back of the tower.