In the decades since the fall of Sauron and the passing of the Great Shadow out of Middle Earth, many changes have come to Gondor. King Elessar has been a wise and gentle monarch and his kingdom has flourished under his leadership. Where fortresses and palisades had guarded the roads in days gone by, now villages and farms dot the rolling foothills of the White Mountains.

As the day brightens, the company rides along the King's Road winding north and west across the shoulders of the great slopes that rear into the sky on their left. From high points along the way you can see out across the broad valley of the Great River, a patchwork of open meadows, copses of trees, and fenced fields all stitched together by busy country lanes. Along the road, you encounter many signs of peaceful commerce: Wagons laden with goods for sale, children herding gaggles of geese, dogs chivying flocks of sheep to keep them moving.

The company sets a medium pace by agreement to spare the horses and your own backsides. Though many of you more used to walking than riding are soon convinced your mounts are trying to kill you. [OOC: I will subtract 1 from common skill rolls while on horseback to emulate the discomfort!] A full day is a long time to spend in the saddle, but you make good progress, rounding the turn in the road from traveling mostly northward to traveling westward, along the side of the Drauden Forest.

Some miles past the Grey Woods and beyond the gaunt peak of Amon Din where one of the watch beacons still stands, ready to be lit and summon aid, you come to a small village with an inn for travelers. Nothing fancy. A taproom and a kitchen. A bunkhouse and a stable. A smithy and a well. With a handful of thatched huts where the staff of the inn lives, mostly an extended family, and the smith, a burly dwarf with a thick leather apron and expressive eyebrows.

Day 1
Terrain: Rolling hills, with a well-traveled road
Season: Late spring
Weather: Clear and chilly
Encounters: Farmers, children shepherd

Telric moves by the others, now on foot, whispering to each of them...expect the wizard of course. He uses his spear more as a walking staff, idly rubbing his neck while peering about and seeming listless and dull. However, what he whispers is anything but boredom.

"We are being watched from the trees." He quietly communicates to each member of the group.

In reply to Telric Traventor (msg # 2):

Falin nods.  "Aye, I saw master elf.  The eyes of dwarves are keen as well."  His tone is severe, but the amused bast of his features, and the wink he tips the elf, belies his expression.  "The question is, of course, who it is that watches us.  Mayhap our friend the sorcerer knows, eh?"  Falin casts the wizard an inquisitive glance.  Quietly, he ensures his bow is ready to his hand.

Not even waiting for the elf to make it two people down the line, let alone for the banter and exaggerations to begin Mercury slips off her pony and disappears into the bushes at the side of the road.

"I've also preceived it" Berthold said. "We're on Drúedain territory, and they use to watch the road, while being to shy to show themselves. They are my first suspects, though, as Fali nsaid we cannot rule out some friends of the Warlock".

He saw Mercury sliping to the woods.

"Damn" he said. "Isn't she able to play in team?"

He turned to Telric "You're better in woods than myslef" he told him. "Can you take a look on her, while we keep the group safe and watch the Warlock? If the Drúdain are the ones watching us, I guess she's not in danger, unless she does something stupid, but if they are not, she might use some help, and only you might move through the woods unnoticed. If you have any problema we'll come fast."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 13:19, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

After it, Berthold turned to the woods and and said some strange words in loud voice.


He then stopped his horse to see if there was any reaction from the woods.

In reply to Berthold (msg # 5):

"I can try, but even elf eyes cannot see through trees..." Telric replied, ready to follow Mercury as she breaks from the group.

Admina had spent some time getting use to being on the back of another animal, she would have much more preferred a cart. When the idea that they were being watched Admina rode her pony closer to the wizard, lest they be comrades looking to free him.



-

”An interesting approach.” Brand remarked as Mercury dove into the bushes.

Turning to Berthold he added, ”One of my men will ride back and warn the main body.  What do you know of these Drúedain?”

In reply to Herubrand (msg # 9):

"They are woses, wild men who inhabit the forests among Gondor and Rohan" Berthold answered. "Time ago the Rhohirrim viewed them as little more than animals, but when the War of the Ring they helped Theoden and his army to bypass the mordor blockade and reach Minas Tirith in time for the Battle of Plennor. Since then, relations have improved, and now we recognize them as what they are: feral people, but not dangerous unless provoked, and Kings Eomer and Elesar gave them the rule over those forests. As far as I know, they don't attack people on the roads.

Jus in case, what Ishout to the forest is what I awas told to mean "we mean no harm". If the ones watching us are them, we have little to concern ourselves about. Nonetheless, we cannot rule out the Warlock might have allies trying to free him..." he added

Clearly having heard a considerable amount of the conversation on the road Mercury returns to her pony and quickly climbs up the side of the saddle in a manner not particularly appropriate for its design, but seems to work for her small size.

Once atop the pony she points at Berthold, gestures with one finger as if counting, then points into the woods and makes another gesture with two downward facing fingers that move like legs of something running away deeper into the woods.

Bertold closed to Mercury s othat they could talk in whispers.

"I understand a man that went deeper into the woods" he said her. "Can you please tell me how were they dressed? WHere they armed or armored? The people who lives in this Woods don't use armor nor lothing, so if he was he's not..." he explained.

Still not making a sound Mercury points in the same general direction of the woods and shakes her head, along with a dismissive gesture as if it doesn't matter.

Then she becomes a lot more intent, points at the sorcerer, gestures out ahead of them on the road and makes like she is hiding behind her hand, then draws her thumb across her throat in the universal sign for death.

Adunaphel, ever the patient one of the band, listened to the rest talk while watching the fleeting glimpses of their pursuers through the trees with her eyes.

"King Elessar," she added after a moment's thought, "Promised to guarantee their dominion over their forest, and promised that no Men should enter this forest without their leave. Perhaps we should have sent word ahead informing them that we were coming; a company such as ours likely appears threatening, and it is presumptuous of us to travel so near a sovereign territory without warning."

She swung her leg over her horse and went down to the ground, and took a few steps away from the animal to stretch. Her legs hurt, and the ranger was visibly a bit bowed from the time ahorse.

"I believe it would be wise for us to send an emissary to speak with them, and explain that our path takes them alongside their forest but we have no intention of trespass. Especially if, assuming I am reading your meaning correctly, Brave Fleetfoot, they intend to ambush us."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:06, Wed 06 Apr 2022.

"I understand your point" Berthold told to Adunaphel , "but there was not ime to send an advanced messanger to them, and lookin gfor them to explai nwill take time. I guess if we just stay at the road and don't molest them, they will not molest us..."

Then he turned to Mercury to whisper her.

"Do you mean you killed him, or that you think they intend to kill the Warlock?" he asked.

Mercury points back at the forest again and shakes her head, then in turn points at every one of the humans in the group, very obviously skipping every other race including the Dunedain most might think appear the same, then points out ahead on the trail and hides her face with her hand again.

"I guess she means they've set an ambush..." Berthold said. Then he turned to Telric

"Dad told me elves are nearly invisible in woods. Would it be a good idea for you and her to try to amush the ambushers while we act as a bait (though warned) and attack from the road?

I guess if I try to accompany you all I'll put you in risk of being discovered. Not so shure about Adunaphel, as  Iguess she is more used to moving in woods...

ANohter possibility would be to try to amush them all toguethere, but I'd kkeep suggesting those more stealthy in woods (Telric and Mercury, and maybe Adunaphel) to go independently..."

In reply to Berthold (msg # 17):

Falin sighed.  Spending time with the race of Men could be interesting, but it required such patience.  He slid off his pony, and, leading it over to Admina, handed her the reins, asking "Cousin, will you care for this beast for me?  He is greedy, but otherwise well-mannered."

Taking the cameraderie of dwarves for granted, Falin unslung his bow.  Walking over to Mercury, he raises a hand in greeting.  Repeating the halfling's gesture, he points to the humans, then ahead, then covers his face.  He then holds up a finger, adding another, then another, then an interrogative shrug.  Finally, he holds up his bow, pointing ahead along the trail.

In reply to Berthold (msg # 17):

"I could try...but if these are their woods, its unlikely I would get the jump on them." Telric pointed out. "Plus it may make them more hostile, not less. Elves are know for being willing to talk rather than just fight. Well...most elves." He sighed.

Mercury nods at the plan as it develops, she holds a single finger over her lips to indicate silence, and points at herself, then the direction of the forest side of the road.  Gesturing at the others she makes a 'talking' type gesture by opening and closing her hand a few times, and points at the road itself, once again indicating walking with two moving fingers but slowly this time.

As if that somehow constituted a plan she hops off the pony again, and heads back into the forest, quickly disappearing from view.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:32, Thu 07 Apr 2022.

Roclindhir also nods as the plan develops, keeping quiet and following the two Rohirrim.

In reply to Telric Traventor (msg # 19):

"Well, I's ald oprefer to talk" Berthold answered. "But if they are clothed or armored, they are not the natives from the forest.

In any case, I could advance following the road. If they attack me, we'll know for sure (and I hope my chainmail stands for it), I'll give you two minutes to close them by hiding in the Woods before advancing myslef along the road to act as a bait."

In reply to Berthold (msg # 22):

Falin slips into the woods after Mercury, doing his best to be silent, and keeping a wary eye out.  As he enters the canopy, the light changes.  The hard bright sun, and clear air of the open lands, is traded for a disffused, green gloom.  The air is thick with scent; fresh bark, wet moss, and underneath it all, a deep rot.  The dwarf pads along, bow in hand, feet seeking out safe places to tread.

OOC:  Steath roll is 6:  08:26, Today: Falin rolled 4,6 using d6+2,d6+2 ((2,4)).

Notice roll is 5:  08:27, Today: Falin rolled 4,5 using d8,d6 ((4,5)).

Through signing with Roclindhir, who seems to have a familiarity with the military sign language the fierce hobbit uses instead of words, the company understands there is a possibility of an ambush ahead, and they proceed with caution.


Despite, or maybe because of your precautions, no ambush appears, however, and though your pace is slowed, you eventually arrive at the Barley Corn Inn as the sun is setting.

Admina was glad to be off that horse, she took a few turns around the yard to get her legs looking and feeling close to normal. Then as she waits she prepares her pipe and a couple of other balls of pipe weed for good measure. As she worked she cast an eye over the building and it clientele as they went in an out.

Then it was time to make and entrance and find a seat or a booth close to the fire where they could all jostle in together and then to the important stuff of food and drink.


-

"It would seem the cautious approach has paid off well," Herubrand remarked after a blessedly quiet time had passed.

Then, later... as they approached the inn.

"As good a place as any to rest for the night, shall we meet the inn keep and tend to the horses?"

Well after the group has slowly passed any sort of reasonable ambush area Mercury materializes out of the trees, clearly having been following along with them out of sight and she does not look particularly happy.  Climbing up on the pony she rides along in silence, but this time a fairly angry silence, until they make it to the town.  Despite having held her grudge against whatever it was for far longer than most hobbits are able to she is very nearly back to a neutral state by the time they arrive at the inn, and seems perfectly willing to deposit the horses wherever is convenient to do so.

The inn seems bustling with locals stopping in for a pint after work and a handful of travelers like themselves. The ringing of a hammer announces the smith at work in the tiny forge, but as Admina stuffs her pipe the sound dies away and she is aware of being observed. Another dwarf, tall for his kind, and well made, wearing a leather apron much scarred with sparks, is watching her. Catching her eye, he nods and steps forward, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Got any more of that smoke weed you'd be willing to sell, or exchange?" he called to her, stepping out of the smithy. "I've half a cask of Southfathing still, but it's nice to have a variety, I find."

His accent is from Moria, but softened by the tones of Gondor as if many years have passed since he lived underground.

"I guess they were the woses" Berthold thought, when it became evident there was no ambush.

When arriving at the inn, Berthold unmounted his horse and tended it. checking its feet and state. "it's been a hard riding day" he told him, while taking his dagger and learing some dirt from a horseshoe.

THen it took out the saddle and harness and lead it to the stable.

"Should we set some kind of guard or we ca ntrust the landlord?" he asked to the others- "See that the guard would be as much for our belongings as to avoid the Warlock to try anything dirty..." he added with a whisper to the others, when Silence was sout of earshoot (or so he thought).

"I do my friend, "Willow's Wisp" its called and it has quite the "Zest" from Eastfarthing I believe."

She reached into her pack and after a bit of a rummage she brings out the package bound in brown paper and string. With a snap she breaks off enough for several pipes and hands it to the dwarf. Then holding out her hand she introduces herself.

"Almina, daughter of Dwalin at your service."



-

In reply to Admina (msg # 30):

Falin slides off his pony with a sigh.  More used to walking, the day's ride has left his body stiff and sore.  He crouches and stands, a few times, trying to work out the kinks.  As he finished, a bump from behind tells him the pony is hungry again.  He roots around in a pouch, but coming up empty, shrugs apologetically in the pony'd direction.  "I'm out", he explains, but the pony only gives him a doubting look.

Taking the reins, Falin moves towards the stable, hoping to find the hungy pony some oats, or other feed.  As he stiffly crosses the courtyard, he notes Admina talking with the smith.  Smiling slightly to himself, he passes by them.

In reply to Berthold (msg # 29):

"I will keep an eye on our friend." Telric volunteers. He moves next to the wizard, keeping out of arms range but insuring the man was well within spear range. That being said, he does not directly threaten the man with the weapon.

In reply to Telric Traventor (msg # 32):

”I’ll keep you company,” Herubrand added, busying himself checking over his horse. Satisfied that the animal had faired well in the ride, he gave her an affectionate pat on the cheek and added ”We wouldn’t want our travelling companion to feel lonely, would we?”

The inn is a surprisingly busy place, though it is just about a day's ride away from the High King's throne room. As you settle your mounts in the stable, chat with the staff and ease your aching backsides, your look around and take in at least three groups of people. The largest is at the main table and sounds to be locals arguing over the damage that someone's pigs have caused to someone else's crops, and what compensation should be made. In a side-room is a rather more sedate group of travelers who have come on a coach, those of you who entered the stables would have seen it. They are attended by the landlord who sees the lady and her companions as prize customers. The coach driver and his probable companion are nowhere in sight. In a booth in the main taproom is a pair of fellows, an outlander or some kind and a hobbit deep in conversation, who barely glance up when you enter.

Seeing you arrive, the landlord hurries forward. You're a large group and he looks to already have guests.

"Lords, ladies," he greets you. "Come in, come in. Sit by the fire. Ale I have, and wines. Game pie, mutton stew, baked potatoes, fresh greens. And the bunkhouse has plenty of beds for all of you."

Falin nods his thanks to the innkeeper.  "Ale", he requests.  "And stew", he adds.  Pie sounded good, but the stew would be warming after a day on the road.
 Settling himself by the fire, he stretches his toes towards the warmth, giving a pleasurable groan of satisfaction as he rests his bones.

While he waits for food and drink, he draws out his pipe, and begins packing it, scanning the room.  The locals seem local enough, and the fancy crowd were keeping to themselves.  The man and hobbit were a bit interesting.  Falin kept a curious eye on them as he lit his pipe, and puffed contentedly.

Rather than replying to the inn keeper with words Mercury holds up first four fingers then five, indicating the so numbered stew and potatoes on his list of things on offer.  She then points in the general direction of the tap room to indicate where to find her

Content that her message is sufficient she sets about the task of finding a comfortable place in the tap room just outside what most people would think of as a polite distance from the obvious pair, and listens intently to their conversation.

Roclindhir nodded to the barkeep, ordering an ale and a stew. After the time they had spent traveling, he wanted just to get a room, a bath, and some warm food - not to mention a cold drink. Sure, he had traveled this path many times before, whether going to Rohan to visit family, or coming back to Gondor - he never enjoyed how he felt after long days of riding though.

Admina wanders into the the main tap room a little later then the others seeing them already at a table she takes a seat and orders one of everything the Inn keeper rattled off adding "Dark ale, a pint and a flagon Good Sir."

Then she sets one of the pipe weed balls alight and is surprised by how quickly she had a mug in hand and a stone jug before her. She downs the first in one and then half the second before sitting back and obscures herself behind a cloud of smoke.


-

After leaving the horse in the stable, Berthold answered to Roclindir and Telric.

"I'll do th esecond watch" he said. "So, please, wake me at midnight, so I can relieve you"

Then he entered at the inn. He went to the landlord:

"Some stew and an ale for me, please" he said. Then he went with the others of the team, tryin gnot to quit his eyes from Silence without making it too evident.

Mulciber also exerts the inn, allowing others to tend his mount. All day he has acted if you are an honor escort. He discusses wine with the landlord and settles on a bottle of red with the game pie and fresh greens.

As your party eats the discussion at the main table becomes more heated.



As your meal is cleared, the hobbit traveling with the outlander leaves his booth speaks to Roclindhir, the Knight of Gondor who is angling your finances.

“My master observes that a crime is about to be committed here,” he says. “He does not want to interfere, but he thinks you should know.”

In reply to Incantrix (msg # 40):

Overhearing the exchange between the outlander and Roclindhir, Falin raised an eyebrow.  Not that enforcing the law was their responsibility, precisely, but they weren't entirely disintrested either.

He subtly loosened his axe in his belt, and tamped out his pipe.  Looking around the room, he idley wondered who would be breaking the law, and what law they'd break.

Admina turned her head slowly to watch the table, but continued with a rather disinterested demeanour. She had her pipe and a full flagon and was troubled to get involved in anyone's else's business so soon after finishing her meal.

A large cloud of pipe weed issues forth from her nose as she watches the goings on.



-

In reply to Falin (msg # 41):

Rochlindhir moved his hand on his sword, his eyes glancing around to see what crime might be committed.

Berthold also heard what the halfling said to Roclindhir. He raised his alertnes, and, without making it ostentous, checked his sword, but decided not to intervene.

"That's no good" he thought to himself, while scouting the zone and people, ready for anything, and chewed his stew. "Roclindhir is a Knigt of Gondor, and cannot look aside if warned of an incoming crime, but he's also in a special misión for the King nonetheless, and it should not be delayed... I don't envy his position  now. Let's see how he acts. After all, he's now a camarade, and I should support him, whatever he does..." he kept thinking ,rying to hide his concern about the situation.

In reply to Incantrix (msg # 40):

Telric stays by the wizard's side, making sure not to touch him unless needed. Granted most Inns don't want open spear use in their establishments. As a result he has the weapon on his back, put away so no one raises a fuss. Truth be told Telric was just as comfortable using a bar stool as a weapon as a spear. Granted the spear was a better weapon, but you could not use it in every situation.

Rather than draw even more attention to where the outlander is sitting by doing something obvious Mercury just keeps eating her food, something that nobody who knows anything about hobbits would think odd.

The hobbit slides onto one of the benches at your table and begins to pick fruit from the bowl the landlord set out at the end of your meal. He grins cheekily at Mercury and winks at her as well.

"Now that I've got your attention," he says softly. "Watch the fellow who keeps restarting the arguments. He's planning to start a brawl and then rob that lady with her maids using the fight as cover.

"My boss says he's seen this dodge pulled in other taverns before, and it's playing out classical right now."

He eats a pear and waggles his eyebrows at Mercury as if flirting, but he continues to speak to Roclindhir.

"Any minute now there'll be a shout. A tankard will get thrown into someone's face and then the fight will start. That's when he'll make his move. The lady has her personal bag under her chair with her foot on the strap. But when the fight starts, she'll jump up most likely and weasel face will make his move. You just watch.

"My name's Gilly, by the way," he speaks indeed now to Mercury. "You look very fit."

Mercury isn't surprised when the other hobbit's attention turns back to her, and is indeed already in the process of taking out a much smaller scrap of leather with considerably finer stitching on it that has the less formal version of her name written as "Mercury, glad to meet you." on it.

While he is unrolling and or reading it she slips away from the table and disappears into, or perhaps under, the crowd.

Hearing this, and seeing the feasibility of the scheme, Berthold, having nearly finished his stew, stand up to walk a Little though the room, casually moving closer to the lady signaled as would be victim, trying to keep an eye on the would be thief without directly looking at him.

If he made his move, Berthold intended to intecept and tackle or knocking him...

OOC: Berthold's a big martial-looking guy. Please give me a Stealth roll to not just scare the would-be thief off altogether. Nothing has happened yet, and the guy may just decide it's not worth it if he feels too many eyes are watching. Of course, that may be what you want.

15:13, Today: Berthold rolled 17,5 using d4,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (4+4+4+4+1)17,5.  Stealth roll.

Success with 3 raises...

Berthold moved through the hall feighting he just needed to move his legs, without giving any hint of his intent (not even his friends realized how ready for action he was)...

With the big Rider seeming to melt into the woodwork and Mercury in a strategic position to observe the lady's bag, the stage is set. The volume of voices at the table of local farmers rises suddenly in anger and from somewhere in the group a half glass of ale is thrown in someone's face. Tempers flare. Fists fly and in a twinkling, a barroom brawl erupts. Loud voices hurl insults. Men are getting shoved, tripped, and punched.

The local smith, a burly dwarf is trying to pull the worst offenders out of the pile and the landlord is running around trying to pick up breakable items.

In the side room where the lady and her retinue are finishing their deal, the women stand to see what the commotion is, and the wily thief staggers back in their direction, as though shoved hard from the melee. The women cry out and scatter as he falls over at their feet.

Because you are expecting it, you spot him shoving the lady's leather satchel under a bench as he tries to push himself to his feet. Then he turns away from the fight as if looking for an exit.

"Hide me, ladies," he calls in a scared voice making as if to duck behind the bench.

OOC: Great roll, Berthold. You and Mercury are both in position to act as the thief tries to gather up the bag from the far side of the bench as the women's attention turns back to the fight.

Seeing it, Berthold draws is sword and tries to hit the thief with it (but flat, the intent is to knock hims out, not to kill him).

OOC: tell me when I cna roll for the action

Not one to engage in anything even remotely as chaotic as a brawl Mercury concentrates on avoiding the passage of larger people while keeping an eye on the thief, and as close as possible to a clear path to whatever exit he uses so she can follow him if he escapes.

Telric, seeing the commotion, stays close to the wizard. He nearly goes for his weapon, bit seeing as no one else is just keeps a wary eye out and his ears open. Especially if his travelling companions call for aid.

In reply to Telric Traventor (msg # 55):

Falin sighs, and rises from his comfy seat by the fire.  Moving gingerly around the edges of the ruckus, he takes up a position by one of the back exits to the tavern.  Drawing his axe from his belt, he tests the edge with his thumb, and waits to see if the thief is foolish enough to try and escape via "his" exit.

OOC: Go ahead and give me a Fighting roll.

As the thief passed near Berthold, he triet to hit him with his flat sword:

08:31, Today: Berthold rolled 7,2 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 7,2.  Attack roll against the thief. Sorry, forgot the -1 for being an edged weapong used flat, so rolls are 6 and 1.  As I guess his parry is not over 6, I asume a hit, and so roll or damage. Feel free (of course) to edit it if not.

Damage roll (I could not use them added) 08:43, Today: Berthold rolled 3,7 using d6,d8, rerolling max with rolls of 3,7. So a total of 10. I guess he's either shaken or wounded...

Berthold sword hit flat the thieve's head, leaving him stuned. He intended to then hold him and, if posible, bind him...
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 06:46, Tue 03 May 2022.

The flat of Berthold's sword smacks hard into the skinny man's head, and the lady screams as he falls dazed and seeping blood on the wooden planks of the floor. She looks at Berthold in horror as if expecting him to attack her next, but then notices that the thief is clutching her bag.

"My bag!" she cries. "He was stealing my bag. You stopped him!"

The lady's piercing scream along with the sudden dispatch of one of the locals (it will take a moment to realize he is not dead) takes most of the fizzle out of the bar fight in short order. The locals glare at the Rider of Rohan with the naked sword in their midst but as the lady babbles on about how Berthold has saved her bag from being stolen, things calm down, and the innkeeper offers a round of free drinks for Berthold and his companions.

The lady is overcome and leans on her maids, who escort her upstairs to bed. The locals leave, carrying their downed companion (unless you want to detain him).

As things get back to normal, the hobbit who warned you about the impending theft visits your table again.

"A bit dramatic," he laughs, nodding at Berthold. "But I'm glad you stopped the man from stealing her bag. My master," he nods at the outlander still sitting in the booth, "often gets blamed for bad things that happen around him. He's from the south. Selling fabrics and carpets.

"He'd like to buy you a drink as well if you're willing. But he understands if you want nothing to do with foreigners."

When the dust, and room, clears Mercury is nowhere to be found inside the inn, likely having slipped out into the night without anyone the wiser.

Berthold salutes the Lady with a nod, as she retreats to her chambers with her maids.

OOC: the decisión about detaining the thief or not is deferred to Roclindhir. He being a Knight of Gondor, Berthold recognizes his authority.



"I will be glad to accept his invitation , but it better is something without alcohol, as I have already taken enough and I'm tired from travel" Berthold answered , following him to the stranger's table.

"I guess a Shouthern in Gondor should feel li ke a Duendain in RRohan... Even though the wars ended before I was born, mistrust diez hard...

I'm Berthold, brom Rohan, by the way" he said to the stranger, offering him his hand to shake

"A Hobbit and a Southerner, what a strange pair" he thought to himself. "I guess it's not for neigbourhood... But I'm not the one to point it, seeing my own company". He smiled as he has this last though.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 17:35, Tue 03 May 2022.

The merchant stands up with arms wide open when Berthold and others step over to join him. He beams from ear to ear and waves his hands to invite you all to sit. Then he sends Gilly, the hobbit, to order wine for the table.

"So glad you could save that poor woman's property from being stolen," booms the merchant speaking the common tongue with a heavy accent, but quite understandably. His clothes, the way he curls his hair, and even his accent speak of exotic places.

"Mr. Gilly, he is the one for the sharp eyes. He spotted what was about to happen, and I sent him to tell the Knight of Gondor. Even in my far land, the Knights of Gondor are known.

"And you," he turns his attention to Berthold. "You must be one of the famous Riders we have heard about. A child of Rohan. I can tell by your gear. So quick on your feet for such a big man.

"I would not want to meet you in a dark alley at night," he laughs and waves his hands in invitation again as the wine and a pitcher of foaming beer arrive at the table along with a plate of cheese and pickles along with slices of crusty bread.

"My name is Azrad al Saif," he says after drinks are poured. "I am a merchant from the south come north to these cold lands to sell exquisite carpets and fine cloth. Now that peace has come once more to Gondor and the lands beyond, trade will follow. Your King Ellesar is keen for tradesmen like myself to explore the lands north of here.

"We are traveling to your lands to meet with King Éomer, in Edoras, at the Meduseld, the Golden Hall."

A shadow crosses his face.

"I had thought us safe traveling alone, just me and Mr. Gilly with our two wagons, but this thief in the night? He makes me wonder if I should hire body guards."

"Stopping thieves should be any good man's duty" Berthold said, taking some bread and cheese, but being careful with the drinks, "and merit is als oyour for warning us.

You should not have anything to be afraid from me in a dark alley despite my look" he said on his comment, trying to seem as gnetle as he could to show he has taken it as a joke. "But you would not be the first to judge me for it. As said, old fears and misstrusts die hard"

He looked at Azrad as he talked about hiring bodyguards.

"I guess you're offering us to be your bodyguards..." he said. "I cannot talk for my partners, but I'm afraid he'll have to decline, as we're in a bit of hurry, and I'm not sure if we will reach Edoras... Be sure I'll be pleased to escort you in other circumstances."

Admina was out of sorts and seemed to have missed the kerfuffle until the thief was on the floor. She had just placed her pipe onto the small plate of sand and then it was all over. she was not slow ordering another jug of ale though.

When the jug of ale arrives Admina takes a cup while trying the cheese and bread. She listens to the man, but has nothing else to add once the idea of employment is broached.



-

Telric keeps his keen elven ears on the conversation among his companions. He keeps his much keener elven eyes on the wizard. He does let the man drink. After all, of he passes out, it makes Telric's job much eaiser.

In reply to Telric Traventor (msg # 65):

Roclindhir keeps his ears on the conversation of his companions. He silently nods in agreement with Berthold, feeling that the man's words speak for him as well.

The evening is jolly at the inn as al Saif provides ale and wine to our heroes and the innkeeper beams at all these late-night sales. Even Mulciber has the hint of a smile on his face as he sips a fine red wine from Bree. The merchant has made his request for guards on the trail, but Berthold and Roclindhir have both agreed that this is not within their charge from the king. Yet the man does not seem upset or resentful. Indeed, he is very merry and his companion, the hobbit Gilly, is proving to be quite a wit with silly stories for every conversation.

Mercury has slipped off somewhere, but this seems to be her habit. The burly dwarf smith joins the party and sits next to Admina, offering her a plug from his own leather pouch of pipeweed. Telric watches, especially the wizard, like a hawk.

After an hour or two, the merchant yawns and stretches.

"Time for travelers to go to bed," he shrugs. "We will be back on the road at dawn. I wish you well in your venture, whatever it is."

He hasn't really asked questions about where they are bound, but his eyes have been bright and inquisitive, and he seems to absorb every fragment of conversation like a sponge. It is possible he has at least a sense they are on a mission for the king, and that the wizard, watched so closely in their midst, is integral to that mission -- and perhaps not as willing as the others.

The merchant and his companion have a private room as do the ladies traveling in the coach. The bunk room is available for the late arrivals.

OOC: What arrangements will you make overnight? Watches? Who will stay on guard? Etc.

In reply to Incantrix (msg # 67):

OOC: Do I go into a trance, or do I sleep?

Upon returning to the tavern about a half hour before the merchant prepares to leave Mercury catches up on a little bit of everything still available to eat, but stays away from any of the drinks stronger than ale, which has no significant effect on her in the quantities she can drink.  Only after they are alone does she approach Rochlindhir and hand him a small piece of paper with an even smaller but very neat writing easy enough to read from up close but not the kind of thing you can even read over someone else's shoulder.

OOC: Basically up to you. Middle Earth elves certainly do sleep, but they can also go for many days without it. Legolas, for instance, could sleep, if sleep it could be called by Men, resting his mind in the strange paths of elvish dreams, even as he walked open-eyed in the light of this world.

Too long (let's say more than 10 days) of not sleeping, however, would begin to affect his stamina and his mind.

As I say, your choice.

In reply to Incantrix (msg # 70):

OOC-I will take a shift, but as we are in a non-wilderness area I will try to get some sleep.

OOC: Berthold, as a soldier he is, is used to fatigue, and will take a shift too.

In reply to Berthold (msg # 72):

Falin also takes a shift.  The endurance of the Dwarves is legendary, and he will not be shamed before all these long-shanks.

Admina had accepted the offered tobacco, but was rather reserved. She was interested as to what had brought the dwarf to work at the inn. She explained her own story, but added that the Erebor could do with skilled hands should he be looking for a place to call home.

Had the offer of a walk Admina declines, it is late and they have a long day of travelling ahead of them. She will but her name forward for a stint of guard duty.



-

The inn quickly quiets down as the landlord finishes the dishes and locks up for the night. The companions arrange a rotation to keep an eye on the wizard, but everyone gets some sleep.

Bristlebear is disappointed that Admina won't go out walking with him, but he sits with her by the fire for a while longer telling her his life's story. His father had died in the battle of Pelennor Field and his mother had been offered a home for herself and her child by the king for his bravery. He had grown up in the farmland around Minas Tirith and knew nothing of the true homes of the dwarves in the north. He speculates idly that he should accompany her on their journey if she is headed eventually to Erebor.

But she gets the sense he is content where he is. A gentle man earning an honest living doing what he knows well.

He eventually takes himself away to his smithy and silence descends on the inn.

OOC: Let's have some perception rolls from those on watch, please.

Rather than take a shift at guarding the wizard Mercury does her own thing again, and hides herself from everyone, presumably to do something useful during the night.

In reply to Mercury Fleetfoot (msg # 76):

OOC:  Falin gets a 6 to Notice:
18:18, Today: Falin rolled 6,4 using d8,d6 ((6,4)).

Berthold intended to do the last watch. Not sure which watch is the roll relevant, but he rolls just in case.

03:42, Today: Berthold rolled 9,2 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+3)9,2.  Notice (perception) roll during watch

Roclindhir would take the earliest watch he could. However, he was exhausted from the journey.


11:37, Today: Roclindhir rolled 3,4 using 1d4,1d6, rerolling max ((3,4)).

ooc-21:07, Today: Telric Traventor rolled 4,1 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,1.  Notice check w/elfsight possible bonus.

Admina rolled 1,6 using 1d10,1d10, rerolling max with rolls of 1,6.  Notice.

Berthold sits up in the small hours of the night.

"What was that?" he asks.

"A noise. From the stables,"  he answers himself.

Swiftly he is on his feet and headed out the door of the bunkhouse. It is very dark outside, but a hint of firelight comes from the stable doors and now you can hear the sound of horses, milling about and distressed.

Even as you watch, the firelight flares, and now the horses are squealing in panic.

"FIRE IN THE STABLES" Berthold shouts, warnin geveryone and tunning to them.

WHen he reaches them, he opens (or blows) the door to allow the horses exit, untying them if needed. Only after this he attempts, if he sees ir posible, to set out the fire with a blanket (or whatever he finds on hand).

Still concealed somewhere in the tavern Mercury does not make an appearance at the burning barn.

Telric leapt up from his medative trance and gathered his things. He frist went to check on the wizard, and then went to find his companions... wizard in tow if need be.

"What . . . Where . . .  How . . . ?"

Mulciber is fast asleep, snoring loudly from having drunk a veritable snootful of excellent ale.

Bertthold rushes forward and flings open the doors to the stables. Terrified horses rush out and flee into the darkness. A lurid flare of firelight at the back of the stables comes from a stack of straw burning merrily, but well away from anything really flammable. It is likely the fire will go out on its own without setting the rest of the wooden structure on fire.

Despite realizi ng the fire is likely to go out by itslef, berthold does not wa nt to risk anything and takes a bucket and ,using  the wáter from the trough he tries t oextinguish it before anything can go wrong.

Should anyone of the team appear, he says to him(her):

THe fire is not dangerous, and the horses were free. it seems a distraction maneuver. Return to the inn and watch if anyone tries anything taking advantage of it

When the fire is extinguished, he plans to return himself to the inn, to inspect if something has happened in the meanwhile.

In reply to Berthold (msg # 88):

Telric comes out, more or less dragging the wizard along with him. While Telric is fully dressed, the hungover magic user may not be. "Indeed, it does seem like a distraction." He says, nodding. He heads back into the Inn, still gesturing with his spear that the wizard will accompany him.

In reply to Berthold (msg # 88):

Roclindhir will assist Berthold with putting out the fire.

The fire is soon out, but it quickly becomes apparent that several of your horses have run off into the night.

"Should we go out after the horses or wait until morning ?" Admina asked, once she had an answer she would check the track leading from the stable for anything other then hoof prints.


-

"It's likely  t hey return before dawn" Berthold said. "At least  for Rohirric horses, as th ey are trained and loyal to us.

OTOH, if there are wolves or other predators in the zone, they may  be in danger. I  don't expect them to have run too far, and w ecan make a quick search on the zone..."

OOC: Will you search for the horses now, or wait until daylight for them to come back on their own?

OOC: Berthold does a round on the close rurrunings to see if he can find some of them. He whistles to call his own.

Any Rohirrim trained horse will return to Berthold's whistle. The others are lost in the darkness.