Fellowship of the Dice

Torwin raises his voice so as to be heard by the Dunlendings, whom they now know were the ones following for so long, "Is a man named Imhar among you?"

Hereweald nods, standing with Torwin, he call out, "We are hunting orcs and goblins who have taken women and children captive! We would speak to Imhar if we can. Or we will go and save out people then return home without spoiling your land!"

The Dunlendings stand motionless for a time. If Imhar is known to them, or if they even understand you, they make no sign of it. After a minute or two, they suddenly withdraw from your line of sight. Shortly afterward you hear the sound of a warhorn calling, answered seconds later by another and then another off in the distance to the west, in the direction you are intending to travel.

"If we return from this errand," Istril spoke in a hushed tone to her companions, "the Reeve ought to know how things stand in this part of the land."

"If they do not speak to us, there is little we can do," says Torwin, shrugging his shoulders. "I try to ignore my portent about a Dunlending chief, but it seems that we were doomed to be foes. Let us continue on, for until they say what they want, we should not let their presence stop us from our quarry." He gestures that they should spur their horses on.

You ride forward following the trail for some 30 minutes. You look around constantly, but see no sign of the Dunlendings. Then the path dips into a valley. You make your way forward slowly until you reach the bottom. As you do, the Dunlendings make their appearance. Several more men have joined them. 25 raiders step forward from the crowd to block your path. They raise axes and spears and begin shouting in an attempt to intimidate you. One man shouts out "Forgoil, leave or die!"

You realize that there is no diplomacy that is going to get you past these men. You must either fight or flee.

"So that's it then?" Istril asks, checking her horse. Her quiet voice is bitter as she looks from Hereweald to Torwin. "We're in no condition to fight twenty-five, and news must reach the Reeve."

As the group is moving down into the valley Hereweald can be heard whispering, "I don't like this. This is the perfect place for...." an ambush. He never manages to get that part out. He looks at Istril, "I agree. We have failed, but we can still bring word back to our people of what is going on." He holds his bare hands up, no weapon, "We are not your foes, we..." he sighs, "..we will leave! WE LEAVE!" He backs his horse up a few steps, then looks at Torwin, "I don't like it any more than you, but what choice is there? We must retreat." He wheels his horse around and prays he doesn't take an arrow or spear in the back. "Let's go."

Torwin nods silently. He is angry, but also confused. How could the Wizard allow orcs on these lands? And for innocent folk to be captured and taken by him? Perhaps he was not involved, but it was hard to fathom.

Remn senses his frustration, and keeps his ears up for signs of danger as they turn back to leave the valley of Nan Curunir.

It's not what you want to do, but the Dunlendings are too strong a force for you to overcome on your own and you must retreat. The best you can do is to report what has happened to the people of Brocdene and King Thengel. Perhaps the men of Saruman's guard will be true to their word. Perhaps this will lead to war. Something is amiss in the Wizard's vale and it does not sit well with any of you to leave things as they stand. You urn to leave and the crowd of Dunlending begin shouting at you in mockery. You do not understand most of their words, but you do understand "forgoil" and it is not hard to infer what their meaning is.

Hereweald is practical enough to accept the situation for what it is and hope that justice will come on another day. Istil's kind heart has a much harder time accepting the loss of the Rohirrim women. She rides away with a dark shadow over her mood. Torwin is affected the greatest. It is all he can do not to wheel and charge the mocking Dunlendings. It is only the words of Hereweald that eventually allows him to swallow his pride and ride away, but not without leaving a scar on his heart that will be long in mending.

The ride back to Brocdene is long and miserable, even if uneventful. The Dunlendings send scouts to monitor your movement until you reach the border of Nan Curinir. It is late in the afternoon when you finally reach the steading again. Here at last your spirits are lifted somewhat at finding that the other surrounding villages suffered little damage and that most of the people of the valley have now gathered within the palisade for protection.Some twenty riders patrol the outskirts of the village and perhaps a thousand people seek refuge within.

Lord Héamarh returns to his hall shortly before sunset at the head of twenty riders. There are gasps at how few men have returned but the Lord quickly puts the peoples’ minds at ease. The éored caught the Orcs on open ground and fell upon them with great slaughter. A mere handful, no more than a half dozen, escaped into the hills and he has left riders in the Wold to hunt them down. The men of Brocdene suffered a few wounds in the fight but no men were lost.