Eastward Ho! : The travels of Roiry Flannagan (an ic journal)

[VeruMontanum]

Prologue

“TED ! You lazy good for nothing ! There’ll not be any supper waiting for you tonight if you don’t bring me back at least one full sack of freshly gathered corn, you hear !” Mr Sandyman bellowed across the field at Ted before turning to face the unfamiliar hobbit who was meekly shuffling up to his gate.

At just under four feet, the newcomer was somewhat taller than most hobbits Mr Sandyman had come across and the miller had been around Hobbiton and the Shire for a very long time. Dressed in simple travelling garb, a stock of scruffy red hair made his height stand out even more.

“Whats that smell ? I’ve only just had afternoon tea and you’re making me hungry again boy !” Mr Sandyman snapped. The young hobbit stopped in his tracks and sheepishly fastened his vest pocket. “I’m.. I’m mighty sorry sir… I think it must be Miss Trista’s scone… but would you… you happen to be Mr Sandyman… the… the Miller ?”

“And what’s that to you ? Unless you happen to have some fine corn stashed away in your field and wish to sell… or rather give it to me ?” Mr Sandyman’s eyes flashed impatiently.

A small bead of sweat trickled down the young lad’s face. “No… I… I don’t have any corn sir. But… but Miss Trista told me to come speak to you about your messenger pigeons.”

“Did she now ?” The miller’s features softened slightly. Despite his increasingly cynical take on life, he was very fond of Trista. Always one for a tall tale himself, his visits to the inn to hear her stories had become a regular fixture in his weekly calendar. “And tell me son, just what do you need my pigeons for?”

“Well, I was just at a memorial service Miss Trista was holding at the Green Dragon when she reminded me that it was Father’s Day and I’d realised that I’d forgotten to send my wishes to Uncle Feargus.” The younger hobbit spoke a little more comfortably as he felt Mr Sandyman warm to him.

“Uncle Feargus ? But its Father’s Day… not Uncle’s Day and as far as I know, there isn’t one !” Mr Sandyman frowned, wondering if his young visitor had been smoking one too many pipes of leaf.

“I… I know that sir. But my Uncle Feargus has been like a dad to me ever since… ever since my ma and pa passed away when I was just a wee boy. He… he was the only family I had and took me into his care…” The young hobbit’s voice dropped to a whisper as he looked down at his feet.

“Ah… I see. My apologies for your loss, lad.” Mr Sandyman paused for a moment and looked back across to the field where Ted was sleeping on the job as usual. He sighed. “Come on in then and we’ll get you a parchment. Keep your message short though… its much harder work to fly than walk you know. And what’s your name?”

The young hobbit’s eyes lit up and allowed himself a hint of a smile. “It’s Roiry sir… Roiry Flannagan.”

[VeruMontanum]

Dearest Uncle Feargus

I hope you have been keeping well. The journey with Old George on his cart took almost 3 weeks but was thankfully uneventful apart from a run-in with a herd of stray cows! You’ll be pleased to know I safely arrived in West Farthing just a few days ago and have put up at the Green Dragon just outside Bywater. It is so much busier here than at home and I have already met quite a few of the local folk, including a fine young lady called Trista and “Grandpa” Hairylobes, whom I am very sure you will enjoy sharing a good pipe with. There is simply so much to do here and Shirriff Hayward has even entrusted me with helping out with the mail runs !

I will stay in the Shire for a while longer before travelling further east to Bree, the town you told me about where hobbits and tall-folk live together. I think Ma and Pa will be so proud of me for venturing so far from home – if only they could see where I am now !

I know this is the first time in twenty five years that we have not celebrated Father’s Day together but even though we are so far apart, I will always remember how you’ve always treated me as your very own son. I know you’ve always wanted me to leave the shire and explore the great unknown like you did in your youth but I just want you to know, no matter how far my feet take me, my thoughts will always be with you…

Have a very happy father’s day.

With much love

Roiry


“Thank you sir.” Roiry carefully folded the parchment and handed it to Mr Sandyman. “We… I mean… Uncle Feargus lives in the fifth cottage along the gravel road of the third village on the north-westernly outskirts of Greenholm. We are one of the furthest settlements in the Far Downs.”

“Very well lad” The miller made a mental note of Roiry’s directions. “If you don’t mind me asking, why does he want you to leave home ?”

“I… I think he just wanted me to live his life again for him.” Roiry looked up at him thoughtfully. “He was one of the few Flannagans who left home in his youth and travelled the land as far as Bree and even to Dol… Dol Amroth. It was always his dream to reach the White City of the tall-folk but he could not make that final trip when he fell ill with a very bad chest that winter. After he came home, he never quite had the legs to travel again although I know deep down, that was his one biggest regret.” Roiry stopped and paused for breath.

“So he wishes you to complete his journey for him then. As you put it well, to live out his life right for him.” Mr Sandyman frowned. “But… what of himself ? He sounds like he is getting on in his years as well. Does he not have a farm, an estate to pass on to you, my young Flannagan?”

“No sir.” Roiry shook his head slowly. “Much of what our family owned was lost in the fire that… that killed my parents. He had only returned home shortly before that and… and after he took me in, we served the local mayor as his groundsmen. Between him and myself, we really did not have very much left over after food and lodging. He has now retired and insists he can look after himself until… until…” Roiry blinked back a tear.

“Well, I suppose my lucky star has shined well on me then. I at least have this old mill which has clothed and fed my family well. I just hope Ted will one day make it an even more flourishing business and do me proud.” The miller sighed slowly.

“I’m sure he will sir” Roiry broke into a smile again. “And I am ever so grateful to you for sending this message for me. It would be great if I could send one every day to Uncle Feargus for the next three weeks I am here!”

“WHAT!?” Mr Sandyman’s features resumed their usual sternness. “My young fellow, I have not charged you today because it is a special occasion and you have come on Miss Trista’s recommendation. But from now on, it will be a hundred coins per message. More if you like but not one coin less… I have a business to run you know!”

“But… but then what am I to do sir ?... Uncle Feargus will want to know all that I’ve been up to, all the people I’ve met and all the places I’ve seen and been !” Roiry looked at the miller crestfallen.

“Well lad… if you can’t afford to send a message everyday, perhaps you should think about keeping them to hand. Perhaps…”

“I know !” Roiry interrupted. “I could keep a diary… to record everything! So one day, when I return home, I can tell Uncle Feargus all the stories he once told me and more ! And… and…” He could hardly contain his excitement now. “I will call it a journal… and it shall be named…” He thought for a moment and smiled.

“Eastward Ho !”

[DM Curumo]

Wonderful.. I look forward to hearing the next installment.

[SNarfel]

Very, atmospheric, appropriate and above all entertaining.

*bows*

[The Frenchman]

Groovy mate, keep' em coming *beams*

[VeruMontanum]

Thanks for the kind words guys. Writing has always been a passing hobby and is one of the main reasons why I continue to play NWN. And Middle Earth with all its richness just makes things so much easier although it also means a little extra effort to make sure I get the finer details right.

I plan to use this thread really as a platform for building up Roiry's background and ongoing development, as an outlet for appreciating playing with you guys (both players and DMs) and also as a launchpad to further RP, quests and adventures. I'm hoping to keep the thread as IC as possible but will certainly appreciate any comments, good and bad :) although preferably as PMs. I will occasionally write "on behalf" of PCs and NPCs whom Roiry interacts with, sensibly. But if anyone feels his/her PC (or a DM feels an NPC) has been misrepresented, just let me know.

And I hope you continue to enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing and playing here :)

PS. Oh and I must give all credit to Trista for suggesting Roiry speak to the miller for his message services. Thank you mate :) I would have just got Roiry to use his mobile but unfortunately, he subscribes to Vodafone, not Orange.

[VeruMontanum]

Afterlithe – 3rd day

I have always thought I would never see a sight as revolting as Mrs Bracegirdle’s “special” broccoli and cauliflower broth but today, I realised I was wrong. As I was doing my early afternoon mail run, a small crowd of children had gathered across the road from the North Gate Shirriff House. Had the Brandywine Bridge not been temporarily barricaded by the Shirriff on duty, I would probably have not stopped but got on with my duties as a newly appointed postman second-class. However, as I got closer, it became clear from some of the crying children that something terrible had happened.

It was indeed a most ghastly sight. A large cow was lying on the grass not twelve feet from the east bank of the Brandywine, not moving and certainly quite dead. But what was even more disturbing was the fact that its eyes burned a crimson red against its hide scorched a shade as black as tar. It looked almost as though the poor animal was burnt alive for a very long time although neither the Shirriff nor I could fathom what the cause or reason was. The children had been playing straw-ball in the field across the road when they claimed to see the grazing cow suddenly moan in anguish and fall onto its side.

As the Shirriff escorted the children back to school, he instructed me to seek the aid of Miss Appleseed in Woodhall. Not for the first time, I wished my legs were longer but at least I am grateful not to be as podgy as a Stoor. And as for Miss Appleseed, I don’t think I have ever met anyone as wise and learned as her… apart from Uncle Feargus of course. And I sure hope she’s forgiven me by now for carelessly trodding on the crop of sage in her garden. Just why does she have to plant them all so close ?!

The Shirriff was most pleased that she had already received his urgent letter from that morning. This also made me remember Shirriff Hayward’s offer to promote me to the rank of postman first-class next week if I can lose a few more pounds. Miss Appleseed had promised to meet him in the next few days and I sure hope her knowledge of medicines and herbs will help the Shirriffs find out whats caused the mysterious death of this poor cow.

[VeruMontanum]

Afterlithe – 8th day

I have always believed it more than just chance which governs the symmetry of the rising sun and the fading moon.

I have always believed it more than just casualness which conducts the whistling of the wind against the crashing of the waves.

I have always believed it more than just luck that the bumblebees know exactly which daffodils were blooming when they spring into dance on the first day of autumn.

I have always believed it more than just accident when I stole away that fateful night twenty five years ago to sleep outside in the side-barn when our house caught fire from an unattended candle.

And now I believe in faeries… for I have now seen them.

Miss Appleseed was true to her word. By the time I arrived at the Brandywine bridge with Mister Haragost, she was already inspecting the poor cow while a crowd watched. I did not need the foul stench or the gathering flies to tell me the cow was definitely even more dead than when I left it two days before. But what happened caught everyone by surprise, even the learned Miss Appleseed herself, when a plague of hideous worms spilled out when the cow’s belly split in the scorching sun ! Thank the stars it was Mister Frain who had the unenviable job of torching the infestation, I shiver to think what would happen if one of them had crawled up my trousers !

Being the closest stationed senior shirriff at the Hay Gate, Shirriff Hayward took charge of the investigation. In his usual efficient manner, he quickly assembled a party to pursue the few leads we had. Although Miss Appleseed was well-versed in the art of apothecary, she claimed to know little of diseases and afflictions as unnatural and mysterious as this. After some discussion, we concluded the most likely person who might know enough to help was Mister Frodo, the nephew of the legendary explorer Bilbo Baggins who had unfortunately disappeared not so long ago on his 111th birthday. Miss Appleseed had hoped that Mister Frodo would have kept some of his notes or remembered his uncle’s stories of his amazing travels.

And I was surprised by the number of tall-folk who were visiting the shire. Apart from Mister Haragost who accompanied me from Bree, there was Mister Ivan, Mister Ashal and even an elf, Mister Luenfin. The party was led by Shirriff Rufus, whom I had not met until today. Mister Frain, Benny and I represented the Shire.

We proceeded with more haste than we intended when it became obvious that the infection was spreading from the number of cows and other animals on the road suffering the same symptoms. I really hope Benny’s father’s farm has not been affected otherwise I will miss his humour and company here at the Dragon. Even though Hobbiton was on the near edge of Westfarthing, it still took us one and a half days to get there.

It was during the journey that we first encountered them. At first we couldn’t be sure and thought it was the midday sun which was playing tricks with our minds and eyes. But after we each spotted them in turn, even if it was only for a fleeting moment, we realised they were quite real. Measuring no bigger than a small turnip, they appeared in shades of green and blue and were exactly like what Uncle Feargus had told me when I was little. They had wispy wings that sprinkled a faint glitter of dust as they floated from a distance and stayed in sight for no more than mere seconds. I thought I could hear them giggling although it seemed strangely to me far more malice than mirth.

Mister Frodo was very generous to offer us all freshly baked crumpets as we discussed the happenings of the past few days. I thought of him a true gentlehobbit until I saw in him a most unusual steel for a hobbit. Perhaps one day I can be as just as determined and confident as he was that day when Mister Ivan somewhat churlishly challenged his belief in faeries.

I never expected Mister Frodo to then direct us all the way back to Woodhall to seek Miss Appleseed again. It was all a ruse after all to deflect undue attention from herself ! As we all nursed our aching legs in her garden, she explained that our journey was unavoidable as our minds would only believe what our eyes could see and she was somehow confident that the faeries or what she called unseelies would reveal themselves to us on the road. But all the twists and turns that had befuddled us could not have prepared me for her final startling revelation… that the unseelies were only the little helpers of dark witches who have descended on the shire like storm clouds on a dark and rain-filled night. And while she could not tell us their purpose or intent, it is very clear that my new home and the peace of our beloved Shire is being threatened by an unseen evil.

But surely something this important should be handled by the shirriffs. After all… what can I really do in the face of such malevolent mischief ?

I have believed… now perhaps I must believe.

[SNarfel]

*stands and claps in delight* :)

[VeruMontanum]

For he was a jolly good fellow
Although in his youth he was callow
With age and mistakes he was mellow
But let not his grave be too shallow !

A collective groan rumbled through the Green Dragon as Wobbly Ned took his seat. Not the most inspiring of singers by any stretch of the imagination, the retired shirriff would still usually manage to get the odd clap of applause on most nights if not out of good humour then respect for his seniority in the community. But tonight, the mood in the tavern on Bywater Road was palpably subdued and most of her patrons were somewhat irritable and tense. Even though the streak of mysterious deaths amongst the local livestock had recently come to an abrupt end, it was obvious that the damage to the morale of the local farming industry had a far more lasting effect.

“That was terrible Ned ! Terrible ! Terrible ! and Terrible !!! The poorest and shoddiest concoction of a song I’ve ever heard from you for a long time ! Perhaps it should be you who should be thinking about how shallow your grave should be, old fellow !” Lotho Sackville-Baggins laughed mockingly in between large gulps of Old Fumblebottom brew as Ned sat scowling in his usual corner.

“That’s quite enough, Lotho !” said Rufus Proudfoot, rather more sternly than he himself had expected as he stood up. At his table, Frain Hairylobes, Bennidic Hillsong and Roiry Flannagan exchanged quick glances with one another. “There is no need whatsoever on this warm cheery night to be rude and surly. You should really be more respectful especially to one so many years your senior.”

“But respect is earned my dear Rufus… not just given by one and all to age or station. And one day, even you will respect me, o’ great shirriff.” Lotho’s shrill voice was laced sharply with sarcasm. “Or perhaps you or one of your cronies think you can do better than Old Ned ? How about you there, newcomer?” The belligerent hobbit’s eyes flashed haughtily at Roiry. “Why don’t you tell us about your great adventures Mister Postman ? What important letters have you delivered this week ? How many more secret notes must our dear Rosie here send that fat Gamgee before he plucks up the courage to ask her out ?”

Rosie Cotton blushed a beetroot red as the entire tavern erupted in laughter. “Now you’ve done it Rufus.” Frain smiled wryly as they turned to look expectedly at Roiry. “You… you don’t think he’s serious is he ?” Roiry shifted uncomfortably on his stool.

“Or why don’t you tell us all about your great adventure in the Frogmorton Marsh ? Or was it all just a fanciful dream ? After all, you can’t really have that much else to think about on your long walks in the Shire with your precious letters ?” Lotho snarled as he smelled fear from the young hobbit and was not about to let his quarry off easily.

“I… I am not a liar and I did… did not make it up.” Roiry whispered quietly. “Then tell him so. Tell him what you found in the marsh. Tell him about what courage and honour really means to a hobbit… although I think it will take any of us more than a song to do that.” Rufus sighed as he placed an encouraging hand on his young friend’s shoulder.

“Then perhaps I… I should.” Roiry drew a deep breath and turned to Bennidic. “Benny, could you accompany me on your fiddle ?”

“What ? I don’t even know what you are going to sing ! How would I know what to play ?” Benny exclaimed in surprise. “You’ll be alright, my friend. I’ve seen the amazing things you can do with that fiddle of yours.” Roiry bit his lip and thought for a while. “Start on a four-step and play to the beat of a quick patter of rain on an early spring morning.”

Roiry trembled as he got up to stand on the bench. “Wait a moment.” Frain smiled as he reached into his pack and handed Roiry a vial of Goody’s Boon of sticky hops and Arfandas. “Have a drink of this. It will steady your voice and warm your heart and keep your feet and song in perfect beat.”

Roiry nodded gratefully as he took a long sip of the potion and felt his nerves calm and the stickiness at the back of his throat melt away. Folding his arms squarely across his chest, he cleared his throat and winked at Benny as he started to play.

There was an elf called Gilgalion
The very first elf I ever did meet
A lucky chance of one in a million
I spied with my eye his notice discrete

From lands afar up high in the trees
He came to the Shire in search of his mate
To find dark magic in a marsh of fleas
Within an old tower dread evil await

With a ribbit here and a ribbit there
Out from the shadow a giant toad spits
With a creepie here and a crawlie there
Spinning their webs to catch out our wits

We bravely took on Old Itchy’s wager
To find out the truth of Frogmorton Marsh
And if his mate was in mortal danger
His blade and my bow will treat monsters harsh

So off we set from the Floating Log Inn
Knee-deep in a sea of fog and pitch black
Which blinded me but not his eyes elfin
Far in the mist stood an old tower wreck

With a ribbit here and a ribbit there
Out from the shadow a giant toad spits
With a creepie here and a crawlie there
Spinning their webs to catch out our wits

In its cold rooms we fought walking bones
Got strangled by plants which grew all round us
Found secret doors in the deepest stones
You should have heard them poor goblins cuss

But when we finally arrived at the end
The Black Beast was truly a monster so foul
Fierce battle to death so verily grand
Gilgalion’s sword now rests in its bowel

So now you have heard the truth I have told
Of a mage and his beast from darkest below
An elf of the Galadhrim of courage and bold
And as for me; don’t mess with my bow !


((I started writing this several weeks ago after completing the quest with Heaven's Vengeance but didn't have time to finish it until now. The scene in the Green Dragon is fictional although how nice it would be if it wasn't :) ))

[SNarfel]

Excellent stuff, thanks for the mention and good use of established characters. Very inspiring :).

[Trista]

*From a back table Miss Trista claps enthusiastically at the poem's conclusion, albeit resigned to the fact that she's sure to have "a ribbit here and a ribbit there" singing itself in her head for several hours to come.*

[LongEarMage]

*A taller, cloaked individual, sitting by the door, applauds quietly before slipping back out the door.*

[VeruMontanum]

Wedmath 1st

Dear Shirriff Hayward

I am writing this as I am not sure if I can bring myself to tell you this in person but I have decided to leave the Shire. As such, I enclose my badge and am deeply sorry to hand in my resignation as a Post-hobbit 2nd class. It is my firm regret that I have not managed to qualify for promotion to the rank of Post-hobbit 1st class but it has been awfully difficult to lose that extra half a stone when one is as addicted to Miss Trista’s scones as I am !

You have always looked out for me from the very first day I had arrived here in the East Farthing. In a way, you have become a surrogate uncle to me the past two months since I left the Far Downs and I will never forget all your support and kind advice. It is only through your constant encouragement that I have grown in confidence and I can honestly say that I have been far more help than hindrance to the shirriffs and all the good folk in the Shire !

Please also forward my heartfelt thanks to Shirriff Rufus. He might have told you about asking me to consider an apprenticeship to a shirriff but I think you will agree that a role of such responsibility and importance is hardly suited to one as young and inexperienced as myself ! Furthermore, I just cannot put aside my promise to Uncle Feargus even though I am sure he would be proud to see me become the first Flannagan to take office.

So it is this very promise that now prompts me to leave. I hope you understand my reasons for doing so. But no matter how many leagues I travel, how many seasons I am away, I will always know only one home.

Yours truly

Roiry Flannagan


Hob Hayward sighed as he carefully folded the note and tucked it away in his vest pocket. “Did the boy tell you where he was heading when he gave you this letter ?” He asked the deputy.

“Bree, sir. And I made sure he had the right directions along the East Road.”

“Good lad.” Hob nodded approvingly as he returned to his station at the Hay Gate. Shielding his eyes, he looked thoughtfully eastwards at the streaks of yellow gold bursting through the clouds heralding a new sunrise.

“You take good care of yourself, Roiry.” Hob whispered to himself as he took a long puff from his pipe. “And no matter whatever happens, come flood or storm or even if the Green Dragon ever shuts its doors, I will still be here at the High Hay to greet you on your return home.”

[VeruMontanum]

“Its not fair ! Why is it always my job to wash the sheets !” Nibs Cotton grumbled as he dragged the half-filled laundry sack along the floor and placed it next to the half-made bed.

“That’s because you’re the youngest of us all and I had to do it when I was your age, little brother.” Nick smiled smugly as he carefully removed the small card on the door to the room. It read :

Roiry Flannagan
Room 9
The Green Dragon

“Doing it at my age ! That’s only 2 years ago you… you big bully and…” Nibs shouted back indignantly across the room vacated by Roiry earlier that morning. “Hey… what have we got here !”

Nibs walked across to the dresser and stood in front of it with a huge grin. A stack of ten coins sat on a letter and a small note : “I would be grateful if someone could deliver this letter to Mister Bennidic Hillsong as soon as possible. Yours gratefully, Roiry Flannagan.”

Nibs could hardly believe his eyes. It would take him a whole week of laundry duty to earn that much. “Hmmm… I wonder what is it exactly that Master Roiry wants Master Benny to know so urgently ?” The young hobbit mused as he turned the letter over. “Hey Nick ! The seal is only half set. Shall we have a quick look ?”

“No ! I mean I don’t think we should be prying into his personal…. Well... I guess perhaps we should just make sure that…errr… that its not anything that can't wait till next week. Master Benny’s farm is quite a distance away from Bywater after all.” The elder hobbit said lamely as his natural curiosity got the better of him.

“Thats four coins for you, four for me… and thats two for Rosie. She’s been saving up for that new summer dress and I think she would appreciate this very much.” Nibs smiled as he carefully unfolded the letter.


Wedmath 1st

My dear Benny

I had hoped to say goodbye in person before leaving but as you have not been here at the Dragon for the past week, I assume you are back home helping out at your Pa’s farm.

I’m sure that you know I don’t plan to stay here in Bywater or for that matter, the Shire indefinitely. But while you know of my dream to one day see the white spires of that city of the tall-folk in the faraway country of Gondor, I might not have told you the true reason behind Uncle Feargus’ prompting. It has always been his ambition to visit Minas Tirith as he believes the city might hold a clue to our family heritage. And now that he cannot make the journey himself, the responsibility falls on my shoulders. And having seen how big and busy the rest of the Shire is compared to Greenholm, I am so excited at the thought of seeing the rest of the world. I know you have always felt a much stronger attachment to home and your Pa but now that we have seen fairies and witches, don’t you want to see dragons that are not just green?

Come daybreak, I will head for the town of Bree on the East Road. I do not know where I will stay although Uncle Feargus had always told me about an inn called the Prancing Pony and how it is as good as any we have in the Shire. He also mentioned a trading port of men called Tharbad several leagues south of Bree where huge ships with masts even taller than Farmer Maggot’s apple trees set sail !

And on a cold rainy night, I will always think of us singing and dancing here at the Dragon over many a pipe of Old Toby’s. And just in case you ever change your mind and decide to leave the shire, I will always leave note of my next destination for you.

I hope to see you soon my friend.

Yours sincerely

Roiry Flannagan

[VeruMontanum]

Wedmath – 14th day

I have now been in Bree for almost 2 weeks and time has flown by quicker than two squirrels going for the same oak acorn on an autumn’s day. Legend has it that Bree is even older than the first village in the Shire and it was actually hobbits from Bree who founded our home now. Even though Uncle Feargus had told me plenty of times, I really couldn’t understand how the big people and hobbits could live together in the same town until I got here. But live together in happiness and harmony we certainly can, as long as there are more high stools than short chairs here in the Pony !

I never thought I would see an inn bigger than the Dragon but it sure takes me a whole minute to walk from one corner of the Pony to the other ! Mister Barliman has been kind to me too in offering me this room at half board in exchange for helping out in the kitchen. In fact, almost everyone I have met so far has been nothing but nice apart from that nasty Bill Ferny. I handed that note I found in the cabin in the Chetwood to Chief Harry and he has warned me to stay well away from him. Well, I am no Stoor and I sure know good advice when I hear some !

I had sought out Chief Harry as soon as I had unpacked. I remember Shirriff Hob telling me he is a trustworthy man and I have found him to be exactly so. I had even helped his guards drive off a tribe of horrible goblins camped in the South Downs several days ago. I think he was well impressed by my shot which split the chieftain’s shield in two and allowed his men to subdue him or rather it much more easily. And he wouldn’t believe me when I told him it was just plain hobbit's luck that day !

Perhaps it is because my aim is becoming truer or perhaps it is my knowing that I am no longer just an assistant groundskeeper to the mayor of Greenholm but surprisingly, I have felt enough responsibility in myself to join the local watch in Bree. And have I been kept busy as well ! From rescuing Bob and Nob’s cat, Nibbles to arresting a gang of thieves responsible for all those robberies lately...I really hope Watchmaster Edgar will soon find some more leads from the evidence Mister Cilmine and I found in the graveyard the other night.

Tomorrow I must find out more about travelling to the city of Tharbad. I have heard of a carriage that leaves twice a week from here but I just hope I can afford the passage. Perhaps there I will be able to find a ship that will sail to the white city and a captain in need of a song or two to cheer his crew.

[VeruMontanum]

“And ye can have them 2 quivers of arrows fer free, lad.” Alegard hardly even looked up at Roiry as the hobbit looked around at the collection of arrows in the dwarf’s armoury. “And I’ll even tighten up the strings on yer bow if ye wants.”

Roiry almost stabbed himself with an arrowhead as he stared at the smith in surprise. It was an open secret in Bree that Alegard did not become one of her most prosperous citizens by being generous to his customers. In fact, the talk was that if anyone wanted a good price from him, one would require a considerable amount of Barliman’s special brew to dull his wits. Unfortunately, the cost of a whole keg of ale would of course make pointless any bargain one could wrangle from the canny dwarf.

“Whats it to ya, Roiry ? Ye looks like ye just seen a ghost !” Alegard chuckled as he noticed the hobbit’s look of amazement. “Sayin’ that, I be hearin’ ye seen a few o’ them undead thins' lately in the Barrow Downs.”

“But… but how did you know that, Mister Alegard ?” Roiry gingerly stepped away from the rack of swords standing against the wall in case he really did do some serious harm to himself with his next gasp of surprise.

“Captain Bence and his ranger-folk do drop in to visit meself time and again now ye knows… to gets their swords sharpened and all that. And the Captain’s asked me to look after ye after all the good work ye had done in them tombs the other day. But what I dinnae understands is… how dids a hobbit like ye learn to use a bow so well ?”

Roiry shrugged his shoulders “I’m not very sure myself, sir. It all seemed to come quite naturally. Perhaps it runs in the family – Uncle Feargus used to be a fine shot himself in his youth. And I’ve always been sharp even with a sling and half a pebble when I was just little. Then when I started to look after the mayor’s estate, I must have got more practice keeping the foxes away from his rabbits. And I daresay the foxes in the Shire sure moved much quicker than any goblin !”

“Aye… perhaps ye be right then. Just like me father was a smith before me and his father was a smith before him and… well, ye gets the picture.” Alegard took a large swig of the tankard of ale perched somewhat precipitously above the red hot furnace.

Roiry fondly recalled his recent adventure in the tombs of the three kings with Endrin, the warrior from Gondor. However, it was not so much the deadly traps, nefarious magics or evil spirits that stood out in his memory but rather the conversation that took place when they had returned to the ranger camp to report their success.

“Do you believe in love, Mister Alegard ?” Roiry frowned as he gratefully took his shortbow back and slung it over his shoulder.

“WHAT ?!” bellowed the dwarf in amazement. “Out o’ all the folk livin’ in Bree, ye comes to ask me ‘bout romance and problems wit’ yer love life !?”

“No ! No… you misunderstand sir. Its not about me but…” Roiry hesitated slightly “ Its just that a female spirit appeared and thanked Mister Endrin and myself after we defeated the evil spirits in the tombs and put the kings back to sleep. She was… strangely beautiful and her hair was long and almost golden-white with really pretty leaves in them !”

It was Alegard’s turn to frown this time. “Nay, it cannae be true. Ye can’t be sayin’ that it be the Queen o’ the Earth who came to ye.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Its… its just that Uncle Feargus always told me that he would sooner trust a Stoor selling a pair of used boots than a woman.” Roiry sighed. “I think his heart was broken when he left the shire and his childhood sweetheart refused to wait for him to return.”

“So I wasn’t sure if that spirit woman could be trusted and reported that to Captain Bence.” Roiry continued. “But one of his men called Strider I think told me that Uncle Feargus was wrong for once… and advised me to regard them as the most delicate and precious of flowers in all of the Shire.”

“Flowers eh ?” Alegard grunted and looked distinctively unimpressed. “So what do ye thinks of them now, young Roiry ?”

“I… I still don’t really know. I mean – its not like I know that many of them.” The hobbit stammered uncomfortably. “Miss Trista makes the most wonderful scones in all of the farthings but… she just talks too much ! And that Shirriff Marion Maplebrook – she is a pretty lass but she seems just so stern and serious all the time !”

“And that be all the women ye know, Master Roiry ?” the smith roared with laughter. “Well, ye knows what that Mister Strider says about them flowers ? Well, I be tellin' ye this...There be a garden full of them out there one fine day and ye just waits fer the right season and when they all be in full bloom, then even ye will knows which be the sweetest and most precious to ye.”

The dwarf winks at Roiry as he downs the last of his ale. “But ye now be a good fella and go gets a thirsty dwarf another pint of Barliman’s Burning Brew… all this talk of womenfolk and love has got me deathly cold and shivery. Idle chatter like this be best left to them pointy-ear folk ye know…..”


(( For God of Shadows and Yavanna : thank you both for a terrific session :) ))

[Silverleaf]

Awesome read! Very well written, and even better sine they are based upon true in-game events. :D

[SNarfel]

*Bows in respect to such fine writing*

[Cindi Angelheart]

"And that Shirriff Marion Maplebrook – she is a pretty lass but she seems just so stern and serious all the time !”

A very good story, you will however be hearing from Marions lawyers for slander, stern and serious indeed !

[VeruMontanum]

Halimath – 12th day

Uncle Feargus had always said that good tidings come in two and this week had proven him true. I was delighted to find Benny patiently waiting for me at the Pony at the start of the week on my return from helping Tanya with some of her weekend deliveries. He had received my letter and left the Shire as soon as Mister Hillsong had finished with the harvest for the month. Oh how we talked and reminisced about those carefree days in the fields and riotous nights in the Dragon not that many moons ago. I just wish he could have stayed longer than two days and from the melancholy of his goodbye, I think he would have wanted to as well. At least he now knows I will leave word here with Mister Barliman when I leave for Tharbad.

Which unbelievably is tomorrow! My persistent labour for the past few weeks working for just about every craftsman and merchant in the village has finally borne fruit in the form of a second class ticket on the southbound carriage. And furthermore, recent travellers from this famous city have reported on how a wave of extensive rebuilding has revitalised the trading port and attracted many more ships to its docks than usual. I had to pinch my sides until they were black and blue after collecting my ticket from the stables this afternoon just to convince myself that I wasn’t really in a dream!

Incidentally, my dreams have become far less light-hearted and merry of late. Whether it is because of stress and fatigue from working far harder than I ever have my whole life or my recent bad tummy from a rotten batch of Midgewater berries, I do not know. There is however one particular dream that seems to recur every few nights since I left the Shire. It is of a fight… no, more like a battle and a big one at that. Although I seem to remember a wee bit more each time I awake from it, I still cannot piece it all together. I remember broken scenes of tall-folk and elves fighting under a cold sunless sky in a field drenched with blood and despair. I remember them surrounded by hordes of goblins and monsters that can only be orcs and winged beasts which wailed pain and death. But most disturbing of all were the hobbits… there were hobbits too! But why?... and what would they be doing in the middle of a war? Unless... unless the stories are...

But for now, I should rest. It will be a long day on the road tomorrow. I wonder if Captain Bence and Mister Strider are still camped in the hills and if we would be allowed a quick wander if the horses had to stop and rest. After all, I did promise Mister Strider to bring him some more Longbottom leaf and a Flannagan never breaks his promises.

[VeruMontanum]

Halimath – 20th day

Although I’d always thought it would simply be a matter of time, I’ve since come to accept the fact that I will probably never understand tallfolk and their strange ways. I have not met a fellow hobbit for the past five days since I arrived in Tharbad and it is perhaps this which has made my realisation all the more stark. And judging from the stares and giggles from the folk on the streets, I doubt I will be seeing one of my fellow kin in this cold harsh city anytime soon. I guess I must have been somewhat naïve in hoping that all settlements outside the Shire were like Bree.

But at least amongst the hustle and bustle of this sprawling maze of cobbled streets, I recognised one familiar face. Mister Ashal or rather, now Officer Ashal has taken up a position among the guards in Tharbad since our last meeting in the Shire! And he recognised me too! He does take his job very seriously though and insisted on wearing his full dress armour even when he took a break here in the inn. And I wonder why he kept insisting on me not calling him by his name when we were speaking. I guess for one as disciplined and conscientious in his duty, he must have made quite a few enemies in upholding the laws of this city.

And I have never ever known so many laws and rules and do’s and do not's in my whole life! From the moment I got off the carriage, the guards were instantly ordering me to remove my hood and conceal my shortbow. No eating or drinking on the main streets is allowed. Spitting or littering would incur a spot penalty of 10 gold coins. Any public gatherings and meetings of more than five people had to be sanctioned and authorised by the Captain of the Guard or the Mayor himself! How much more ridiculous can it get!? And the worst part of it all – the kitchen here at the Greyflood is closed every morning from ten to noon! I’ve had to get an extra helping of supper the night before for a stodgy cold second breakfast the last four days!

But in spite of all the rules and laws in place, it sure doesn’t take a shirriff to realise that something is just not quite right in this place. There is unspoken animosity even among the guards, between the judicial guards and the watchmen. And surely cuffing poor Mister Hector in the dungeons whose only crime was talking smart to a guard is taking the law a letter too far. I sure hope Miss Mallow isn’t too upset- I hate to be the bearer of bad news. Life was so much easier being a postman!

And what a great divide there is among the citizens. The Mayor and the rich folk live in their nice grand mansions with pretty gardens while just across the bridge, the poor and the hard-ups are forced to rough it out in the slums. But at least the sight of little children playing without a care in the world outside the orphanage put a smile on my face. Mister Willener must be a really good and kind man for doing so much for these unfortunate ones. After all, I was lucky to have Uncle Feargus… which reminds me: I should really make a trip there again and share his secret recipe for rabbit and carrot stew with the chef. They sure look like they can put on a bit more weight on their arms!

Mister Mathas’ payment for my putting up his posters will not last me very much longer especially with the prices here. I will have to look for work soon if I am to start saving up again. Bartender Ham said there is a man called Andris who comes in twice a week with offers of quite unusual work… or “challenges” as he calls them. I must remember to look out for him tomorrow although if his “challenge” is anything like the last one I took up in the Frogmorton marsh, I’d be best making sure I have a full quiver of arrows and a pouchful of the best butter cookies!

[Pvt .T.]

Very nice indeed. :)

*reads the part were he(Ashal) comes up*

WHAT?!

[SNarfel]

*applauds with delight*

[VeruMontanum]

Thanks :)

I've not posted in a while as I've been on holiday with little internet access and also suffering from a bit of a block. Time-permitting, Roiry will be residing in Tharbad for a bit longer while I try to flesh out more of his story.

[VeruMontanum]

Andris stared at the two bedraggled-looking hobbits slowly making their way through the lunch-time crowd with unconcealed bemusement. Not that hobbits in general were an altogether unfamiliar sight in the Greyflood Inn but rather, his interest was drawn towards their somewhat sorry state and the fact that they were dragging an awkwardly large sack on the floor.

“He…here! Here you go, Mister Andris” A clearly exhausted Barnaby Rower grunted as he heaved the sack up onto the stool in front of the self-styled Challenge Master. The sack was about the size of an early autumn pumpkin although the odious stench reeking forth from its half-fastened opening suggested that its contents were anything but savoury.

“Ahh… So the two little hobbits have returned with word of Andris’ challenge! How remarkable… not that I was expecting anything less of course.” Andris chuckled as he arose from his chair with all the pompousness of a man who is accustomed to his every whim being pandered to.

Roiry tightened the bandage on his heavily bruised arm as he gaped at Andris’ arrogance. “Remarkable? That is a mighty fine word you use, Mister Andris. If Barney and I hadn’t bumped into Miss Chera at the Pony in Bree on the way to the Trollshaws, it would indeed be remarkable that we aren’t both now sitting in a hot pot, stewing like roast mutton in front of a whole tribe of very hungry trolls!”

“Too right!” Barnaby chipped in indignantly. “You only mentioned a… as in one troll warlord in your challenge. You never said anything about an entire village of them nasty green horrible things and their goblin friends and sticky icky giant spiders!”

Andris’ wiry moustache quivered as he roared uncontrollably with laughter. “And do you think that a great troll warlord would be sat in a big cave all alone on his throne twiddling his thumbs and waiting for his next guest bearing gifts and tributes? The devil as they say, my little friends… is in the details.”

Andris caught both hobbits’ gaze drifting towards the small iron-bound chest sitting next to his chair. “And now… you expect your reward do you? Seven hundred gold coins… now that would certainly go a very long way towards your dream of starting your own little pub in the Shire, wouldn’t it?”

The two hobbits glanced at each other and allowed themselves the first hint of a smile in days. “Yes! Mark our words sir... That day will come. The Roiry & Rower will one day be the most famous inn in all of the Shire. And it will be called the R & R for short… where one and all can come for a spot of well deserved rest and relaxation!” Barnaby exclaimed.

“Ah ah ah… Not so fast, my little twinkle-toed friend.” Andris wagged his finger in admonishment as he noticed Roiry edging closer to the chest. “For what you hobbits lack in stature, you have in blessed abundance resourcefulness. Now how would I know that you did not complete this challenge yourselves but perhaps tricked someone else… maybe a kind-hearted ranger into felling this foul beast for you? After all, some things are even beyond my control.”

Barnaby and Roiry both looked at the challenge master incredulously. “You… you don’t believe we… we did this? Well then, Mister Andris, let us prove our quality to you!” And so they trolled:

Troll! Troll!
Beyond control?
Dead right you are
Left dead we were

Troll! Troll!
We’re in the dole
Tempt us with gold
But truth withhold?

Troll! Troll!
So we two stroll
Past Bree and east
To find your beast

Troll! Troll!
Must pay the toll
Last Bridge to cross
Hoarwell’s green moss

Troll! Troll!
And so we stole
Into the wood
Bad neighbourhood

Troll! Troll!
Softly tip-toe
Ravines in line
Trees beech and pine

Troll! Troll!
Crawled through a hole
Dark in the cave
We were so brave

Troll! Troll!
Lo and behold
Ten feet too tall
Did we feel small

Troll! Troll!
Swore with a scowl
Scaly its skin
Wicked its grin

Troll! Troll!
Thrice in a row
Our blades struck true
Bruised black and blue

Troll! Troll!
Black blood did flow
Pooled at its feet
Where no toes meet

Troll! Troll!
Watched it regrow
An arm replace
Without a graze!

Troll! Troll!
And it was whole
Our disbelief
Hearts sank beneath

Troll! Troll!
Lucky arrow
Blinded its eye
Its end draws nigh

Troll! Troll!
Its head must roll
Snuck up behind
While it was blind

Troll! Troll!
Our final blow
Right through its heart
Tore it apart

Troll! Troll!
Now we extol
Our courage bold
Give us our gold!


for childlikedelight – here’s to the R&R !

[SNarfel]

*Raises a ‘pint’ in his hobbit hands, with a big grin and nod of agreement*

[DM_Olórin]

The old man listens from the corner and smiles...
"a remarkable folk, hobbits..."
and returns to his pipe

Excellent post and great to see more of this sort of thing about ;)

[VeruMontanum]

“Oh thank you so very much Roiry!” Lili gushed gratefully. “I really don’t know what I would have done without your help. I must have been in such a rush this morning in getting the delivery to the Mayor’s office in time that I forgot to take my keys with me!”

“That’s alright ma’am. I’ve been doing this for quite a while now… in fact, I’m actually getting quite good at it too! ” Roiry smiled as he heard the reassuring click of the cast-iron lock give way to his lockpick. He carefully opened the door to the seamstress’ house and helped her carry her bolts of cloth inside.

The interior of the house was exactly what Roiry had imagined it to be while he had been working outside. The short hallway opened up into two rooms facing each other. From the far end, Roiry could just about make out the perfumed scent of rosemary and thyme from what must be the kitchen. The room that Lili led Roiry into looked like a perfect cross between a cosy lounge and a functional workroom. In the near wall was set a small unlit fireplace. At the other end of the room sat a large impressive multi-shaft floor loom surrounded by bales of cloth and linen, in every colour and hue of the prettiest rainbow Roiry had ever seen. The curtains were half-drawn and allowed a sliver of the evening sun to creep into the room, flooding it in a cloak of twilight warmth.

“Please excuse the mess. I have been working rather hard lately to meet the Mayor’s order for yet another set of uniforms for his serving staff. Sometimes I do wonder if it is all a bit excessive but …” Lili sighed as her voice trailed off towards the kitchen.

Roiry was meticulously packing away his set of lockpicks when Lili returned carrying a pot of tea and blueberry muffins. “Now this is the very least I can do in return. I know it’s not quite Longbottom tea but it’s the finest Mayor’s Grey from Himling Isle. I think it will meet with your approval, Roiry.” She gently laid the tray on the oaken log table next to where the hobbit was sitting.

“Much thanks ma’am. Blueberry muffins! How… how did you know they’re my favourite!?” Roiry exclaimed as he eagerly reached for one.

“A seamstress knows much more than just weaving a yarn, my dear.” Lili’s eyes danced mischievously as she glanced at the set of lockpicks on Roiry’s lap. “Just as I am sure you are a hobbit of many talents. So tell me… have you really been breaking into people’s homes for a while now?”

“Wha…” Roiry choked on his tea as he blurted. “No..No ma’am! Please don’t misunderstand. I mean… I meant… Well, it’s a long story and I swear on the three-farthing stone I’m certainly not a thief or a burglar or a general bad fellow!”

The seamstress laughed. “I’m sorry Roiry, you know I was only teasing. But do tell me how you got so good at opening locks. After all, this is a rather large pot of tea and I still have a few more muffins in the oven you know.”

Roiry breathed a soft sigh of relief as he wiped a stray drop of tea from his collar. “Well, do you remember when I told you I used to work for the Mayor of Greenholm back home in the Far Downs? As assistant groundskeeper, it was my duty to look after his estate and that included making sure his rabbits were safe from the odd wandering fox. The tallest hedges and highest fences were simply not good enough to keep them out and sometimes, I had to set little… traps to make sure they did not get close enough to the rabbits. The foxes however, got more cunning over time and I had to design cleverer traps with smaller parts and wires to hide them better. And because of that, I soon got pretty nifty with my hands. Which came in really handy as well as the Mayor was sometimes quite forgetful especially as he got older and locked himself out of the manor on more than a few occasions!”

“I see… so that’s how it all started.” Lili nodded slowly. “I wonder… Hey! Roiry, have you ever thought of making better use of your talents and perhaps plying it as a trade? After all, I am sure I am not the only person in this city to have need of a good honest locksmith from time to time.”

“Really? Do you… do you really think I am good enough to start my own business?” Roiry mused. “Well then, perhaps I should speak to Officer Ashal or maybe even the Mayor’s office about it.”

“Of course you are good enough! After all, Tharbad is the port of free trade and city of spirited enterprise… and there are plenty of unoccupied stalls at the marketplace.” Lili got up and walked briskly into the other room. Roiry heard the coarse rustling of paper before she returned with a large parchment. “But first, Master Roiry, all good businesses need good publicity and so must yours…”

After a good half hour, the seamstress and the hobbit stood back and beamed at the poster they had just made:


FLANNAGAN’s
LOCKSMITH & SECURITY

Locked yourself out of home ?
Lost your keys and no spares ?
Been burgled !?!

Don’t fret !
Roiry’s to the Rescue !
Expert Locksmith

No Lock too Small
No Job too Big

no call out charge ; free estimates ; competitive rates
24 hr fast & friendly service
(apart from meal-times including 2nd breakfast)
Services available :
Lock opening/ replacing/ fitting
Key cutting & repairing
Intruder alarm/ burglar trap setting & disarming

Your Key to a Sound Night’s Sleep

Please leave enquiries in writing with contact details at the Greyflood Inn
Application for formal trading stall & license at Tharbad market pending


“I think that looks just splendid.” Lili watched the hobbit carefully roll up the poster and place it in his pack. “But wait… what’s that sticking out from the side of your pack, Roiry?”

“Huh? Oh… you mean this?” Roiry reached inside one of the pockets of his backpack and gently held out a wad of soft glistening wild silk about the size of a large onion. “Barney and I found this in a cave full of huge nasty spiders in the Trollshaws the other day. It looked somewhat different from ordinary spider-web and we thought we’d just keep it as a souvenir to remind us of our adventure!”

“Quite amazing! This is certainly no ordinary spider-web, Roiry. It is possibly the finest spider-silk I have come across yet! It's far more supple than any cotton and if weaved properly, can be almost as durable as a mail of chain!” The seamstress said excitedly as she examined it. “Perhaps… if you don’t have any use for it, you could leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do with it?”

“Of course you may, Miss Lili. And I’ll be sure to come look for you if I find any more. Somehow, I don’t think those will be the last spiders I will ever meet.” Roiry grinned wryly.


Disclaimer : this post is written with the aim of expanding Roiry's background story and facilitating further role-play with players and DMs and continued storyline development. It is not intended to be a DM request for a marketplace stall placard or similar intent. Thanks :)

[SNarfel]

Barnaby walks by, casually picking a pocket here and there of those he deems less than reputable or wealthy enough to be fair target, and notices the poster. Mischievously takes a pencil and adds, in runes of his own and Roiry’s crafting:

“And if you get too busy and over loaded with work I will be more than happy to help you. Especially in the more well to do quarters of the city.”

He finishes his small footnote by signing his name in the secret runes.

[DM Curumo]

A man watches the hobbit from the shadows of a near-by alleyway. He notes the message and follows the hobbit a short while, then vanishing back into the shadows and makes his way back to the sewers so he can report his findings to the guildmaster. All that he leaves behind are a few fine threads of spider web and a forboding sense of dread.

"An imposter on our patch eh? This will need looking into and sorting out that is for sure. Have him followed and if he does get work, let me know as he will have to pay his dues to the guild."

The dark figure boys and slips back into the shadows and continues its vigilance.

[VeruMontanum]

Winterfilth – 10th day

I should really know by now that getting on board a ship with two dwarves and an elf is always asking for trouble and on this occasion, trouble in the form of an expedition to Himling Island. Miss Eleri and I were simply enjoying a quiet stroll along the docks when we bumped into Mister Fiorin and Mister Burrin who were just about to leave. Foolishly, I thought I could sneak a quick peek around on the deck of the boat before she set sail but as fate would have it, Miss Eleri and I were to have a lot further to walk.

Mister Burrin later told me a little about the origin of dwarves and how they were summoned from rock and stone by their “Maker”. I guess that must be why dwarves don’t travel well on water and why Mister Fiorin had become so violently ill as soon as he boarded. And I must remember in future that while I have become a lot more adept at avoiding a goblin’s club, I should always look behind me before leaping to avoid a sick dwarf and his even more sickly vomit. For by the time I came to after knocking myself out cold against the mast, the ship was already halfway to Himling.

Miss Eleri was kind enough not to leave me alone on the ship and I’m sure the dwarves appreciated her company as well. Well, perhaps not to start with. Sometimes I really don’t understand why dwarves and elves don’t get along although I guess that might have something to do with the fact that they don’t quite look alike or have anything in common. But I now know that the latter is not true. For they do have one thing in common and that is a deep unwavering respect for tradition and lore. And through that, I think they have found a new respect for each other.

And this I did not realise until the end of the expedition. I imagine that the Mayor would have offered Mister Fiorin and Burrin a most handsome reward for the acquisition of the ancient elven artefact which we found deep under the ruins on the island. However, Miss Eleri’s impassioned plea convinced them that what belonged to the ancient elven Noldor civilisation should best be returned to the elves for safekeeping. Lord Prospector Redbeard once told me that any respectable dwarf would never pass up on an opportunity for profit. I guess in this case, the dwarves felt they had made a profit from trading gold for honour. But Miss Eleri does argue a good case. I could have sworn her green eyes sparkled with the frightful intensity of freshly-cut emeralds when she was pleading with them as much as when she was calling upon the raw power of nature to our side against the elemental guardians of the crypt. I have yet to come across hardier warriors than the dwarven folk but against the malice of dark magic, the sharpest axe leaves not much of a scar.

But that I cannot say the same of the shortsword which was gifted us by the spirit watcher which haunted the hallways of the ruins. A legacy of the ancient craftsmanship of the Noldor elves, Miss Eleri was able to dechipher its original name, Radiant Craft, from the runes inscribed on its blade. And no ordinary blade it was either, for its subtle shimmer became a resounding flash whenever it struck one of the elemental creatures, seeming to draw its essence into its very own steel. I will always be indebted to Miss Eleri who generously allowed me to keep the sword as a constant reminder of my promise to her to learn more about the culture and heritage of her race.

Heritage and culture. Tradition and lore. “We must remember our past for it is only through that can we have a future.” Uncle Feargus had said to me before I left. I wonder if the name of the Flannagan family will one day be spoken with as much pride and reverence as the Clan of the Ironfist and the House of the White Crow. And this is precisely why I must continue my journey.



For the small print, blackbypearljam, plepis and Unien. It was only on going over the chat log that I realised why we were up till 2am :)

[VeruMontanum]

Winterfilth - 22nd day

Sometimes I wonder why the rest of the world has to be so different from the Shire. Although it has been no more than nine months since leaving Greenholm, it feels like a lifetime since I last sat out on the grass on the slopes of the Far Downs on a clear blue day under the comfort of a holly tree. Things were so different back then. I always knew when it would rain from the mood the clouds were in the night before. A stack of hay could only mean that work was yet to be done before dinner could be served. The folk in the village were in most part, honest and straight-talking. Growing up, the Mayor was always quick to praise when I did right and I could tell a clip round the ears from Uncle Feargus from a mile off when I did wrong.

Life was so simple and uncomplicated then…

So why in the world would an orphanage keep suits of well-worn leather and plate armour, rows of keen sharpened daggers, gems and a chest of gold in its basement? And if that wasn’t baffling enough, why would the underground hall house a combat dummy (which I had initially mistaken for a scarecrow) and tins of maggots and rotting meat in its cellars? And why did I not look behind me again before stumbling and falling down the kitchen stairs into the cellar?

All things considered, I guess we were fortunate nobody else knew about our little subterranean adventure apart from Watch-chief Kevin who let us out of the sewers and maybe, Mister Squivins who left us alone in the kitchen while he went upstairs to get us a receipt for the delivery. However, we never mentioned anything about what we found in the basement of the orphanage to the guards and Mister Squivins would most likely have assumed that we were too impatient to wait and had simply left. And all this wouldn’t have happened if Barney, Mister Tobin, Miss Ruby and myself hadn’t agreed to deliver the bundles of clothing on behalf of Notary Penbroome, the Public Bursar at the Mayor’s Office.

And I should really make a quick note of my newly-acquainted companions for that evening. Mister Tobin, a man new to Tharbad seems like a nice enough fellow. I think he must have been a fairly successful merchant before he was robbed although some of his business tactics did not sound totally aboveboard to Barney and me. Still, I guess I need all the advice I can get at the moment if my business is ever going to be as successful as Mister Sandyman’s.

Apart from Barney, I haven’t met another hobbit in this city in recent weeks. So it was to my utmost surprise to find Miss Ruby sitting on her own in the Greyflood earlier this week. She had left the Shire in search of adventure and work as a travelling minstrel and songstress but Mister Mathas had turned her away when she first arrived here. But we were lucky to catch him in a far better mood when we asked him a second time and he agreed to let Ruby perform for the remainder of the season. I’d really like to think it was her new dress which Miss Lili had made that changed his mind. She does look mighty fetching in red though. I thought I felt my heart skip as quick as a rabbit in a carrot patch every time she looked at me but then again, it was unusually draughty in the inn that night. She made me remember Mister Strider’s parting words when we spoke so many months ago… I hope it will not be too long before I see her again.

So the only issue that remains is our curious discovery in the basement under Mister Willener’s orphanage. But what should we do now? Perhaps I should mention it to Officer Ashal the next time I see him. But until then, I think it will be best if we all stayed this side of the bridge.



To childlikedelight, flaterectomy & Johanna : thanks for going along with Roiry on a bit of a wild-goose chase. And to Kev : thanks for getting us out! :)

[SNarfel]

//The "wild goose chase" was fun and reading about it here makes it all the more delightful. Hope to catch you in game tomorrow if the fates will allow it ;).

[the-small-print]

Nicely done. Very refreshing. :)

I admire the way you can take a standard MERP quest and somehow make it sound like innocent gossip arround a hobbit fireside. It really adds another dimension to the whole 'the world is dying around me' RP that so many of us (including myself) seem to do.

Roiry, Elenuial (Who is the closest thing I have to a hobbit character) and Ruby should have a strictly innocent RP session at some point, with a few drinks, songs and funny stories.

*frantically scans brain for something to hammer into the shape of a song*

[VeruMontanum]

I admire the way you can take a standard MERP quest and somehow make it sound like innocent gossip arround a hobbit fireside.

Thanks sp :) Its really not that difficult. All you need is a bit of imagination which judging from Elenuial's thread, you have plenty of. I had actually resolved to stop playing NWN altogether earlier this year until my computer's DVD player region-locked up on me and I couldn't play the LotR movies until I got my proper DVD player back. And even though I can now watch them again, I think I'm stuck here on UTT2 & 3.

Roiry's going to have to leave Tharbad quite soon and hopefully Elen or Eleri will be able to guide him to the next part of his journey. He hasn't forgotten his promise, you know?

Btw I admire how much effort you put into writing in Elvish. That's the reason why I'm reluctant to play an elf, I'm just too lazy to learn another language! :laugh:

[VeruMontanum]

And that’s another hard day at work finally over, Roiry. I so can’t wait to get back into my room and put my feet up...and I could even start on that book on elven history Mister Ambrosius had lent me... over a fresh pot of tea. And perhaps I won’t have to worry about the business for just one night. Roiry sighed as he trudged wearily up the stairs to his room in the Greyflood.

Business has been fairly brisk the past few days even though he had yet to hear from the Mayor’s office with regards to his application for a market stall. But in a thriving city like Tharbad where the streets are never quite empty, word of mouth spreads quicker than an elven arrow. Lagnar the ironsmith had grudgingly allowed Roiry the use of part of his workshop in return for the hobbit’s last pouch of Old Toby. And that was where he had been for the greater part of the day, repairing broken locks while Barnaby was busy handing out flyers to promote his business in the east side of town. Ever since their trip to the Trollshaws, the friendship between the two hobbits has grown as strong and steadfast as the oldest oak tree in the Woody End. But so engrossed was Barnaby in his task at hand that even his street-smart senses failed to spot the two shadowy figures watching and following him.

As Roiry opened the door to his room, he realised something seemed different. The door swung a lot slower and heavier than it usually would as he heard a soft creak issue from the floor or perhaps its bottom hinge. I’ve got to ask Old Math to take a look at this tomorrow, Roiry thought as he stepped into the room and lit the candle in the middle of his table. It was only then that he saw the cause of the ill-swinging door. The bottom edge had been partly wedged by what looked like an envelope which had been slipped under the door. That’s most unusual, he thought as he picked it up and turned it over. Mail at the inn is usually left at the porters’ desk and Roiry had already collected his mail that day before leaving in the morning.

The envelope was a pale shade of magnolia and on its front was simply written “Roiry”. Sitting himself down, the hobbit frowned as he opened it slowly and read the letter within written in flowery penmanship.


Dear Roiry

I just wanted to say thanks again for the lovely dress and for taking the time to cheer me up the very first night we met. If you hadn’t insisted I ask Mister Mathas again, I would probably now be on my way back home to the Shire cold and wet in the back of an old rickety wagon. But thanks to you, my first performance is now in three nights’ time!

And just to show how much I appreciate it, I thought I would write you a little song. I do hope you like it.

Yours truly

Ruby


A hobbit Roiry came over the hill
Down through the valley so shady
He whistled and he sang till the green woods rang
And he won the heart of the lady

Chorus:
Ah-dee-doo Ah-dee-doo-dah-day Ah-dee-doo Ah-dee-day-dee
He whistled and he sang till the green woods rang
And he won the heart of the lady

She left her father's castle gate
She left her own fond lover
She left her servants and her estate
To follow the hobbit Roiry

And down by the river Brandywine
There was music and there was wine
Her father sent up his fastest steed
For the hobbit and his lady
Roamed the valleys all over
Sought his daughter at great speed

“He is no hobbit, my father” she said
He is the whistling hobbit Roiry
And lord of these lands all over
And I will stay till my dying day
With the whistling hobbit Roiry

Roiry stood transfixed as if he had been held by a wizard’s masterful spell. A gentle warmth arose within him which seemed to emanate and gradually fill the room, eclipsing the nearby candle. He stared at the letter for the longest time before breaking into a wide grin. Carefully folding it in half, he slipped it into his journal, between the soft leather cover at the back and the last page.



Roiry's Song written (and sung) by Johanna. Used with permission. Thank you... :)

[Myzel]

I truly admire the way you develop your character's story and write it up. These are, in my opinion, the ultimate recaps. All I hope for is to be able to stick to your side, and be able to develop my own character in an equally coherent way. :)

[DM_Olórin]

*the old man applauds* :)

[VeruMontanum]

Lagnar growled as he saw the small throng of people gathered around the gate outside his smithy even from afar. It was not two hours past sunrise and the dwarven smith was only just making his way in to work. He was already in a foul mood from a restless night’s sleep and a crowd this early in the morning can mean only one thing… trouble.

Crime in the city had recently risen steeply despite the Mayor stepping up the frequency of guard patrols. Several shops had already been broken into and the guards have yet to find any leads or clues although the clinical efficiency and deadly effectiveness exhibited so far suggested that it was the work of a well organised syndicate and not simply random desperate thieves.

“Hah! ‘Dis be one dwarf that ‘dem thievin’ scum will find nay joy out of.” Lagnar snarled as he approached the crowd. In light of the recent wave of burglaries, he had only yesterday helped Roiry in designing and installing an intricate system of locks and traps for his smithy and was supremely confident that no thief would be able to break into it… and walk away on his own two legs.

“Wat be ‘der matter wit’ ye folk ‘dis mornin’? Cannae ye let a dwarf git ‘bout his business in peace? ‘Der be nothin’ to see ‘ere now…” Lagnar abruptly trailed off as he realised that the men and women were not actually gathered at the gate itself, which looked untouched and its locks untampered from the previous evening when he left. Instead they were all staring at the sign advertising Roiry’s fledging locksmithing business which was posted just outside the gate. The men were whispering in hushed tones while some of the women were shielding their children’s eyes and quietly walking away.

Lagnar’s beard bristled uncomfortably as he suddenly felt an uneasy chill crawl up his spine. Although it had been a long time since his adventuring days, he swore he would never ever forget the distinct malodour which was now wafting his way from the sign. Brusquely forcing his way through the crowd, Lagnar stopped just in front of it and cursed under his breath as he saw the source of the stench. It was the stench of fresh orc blood and it took the form of words crudely scrawled across the sign:

Meddling hobbits
Should you ever wish to see your shire again
By morn leave Tharbad and our domain
For if a day more we see you remain
Then you will find only death slow and in pain

[VeruMontanum]

Blotmath - 25th day (Quellë - 59th day)


If I had thought Tharbad was as far removed from life in the Shire as I could have ever imagined, then nothing quite prepared me for the city of Rivendell or Imladris as the fairfolk call it. Not only are elvish names so long and the words so difficult to understand or learn, they even count their days of the year wrongly with only six months instead of twelve! Miss Eleri says that is because elves live a lot longer than any of the other races on middle earth but it sure must be so much more difficult to remember birthdays and other red-letter days! Still, I have kept my promise to her and having spent much of my time here so far in the library, have started learning some basic (and very useful) words and phrases with the help of Hiril Menelanna:


Mára aurë, Roiry eneth nîn Hello, my name is Roiry
Namárië Farewell
Aníral maded? Would you like to eat?
Tancave! Im saig! Of course! I’m hungry!
Le hannon Thank you
Periannath Us!


It is near three weeks now since our flight from Tharbad after that nasty threat was found on my notice outside Mister Lagnar’s workshop. But why would someone want us away from the city so badly? And perhaps the most important question is who? Barney and Ruby both agreed that it was perhaps more than just simple coincidence that our business strangely took a turn for the worse after my little tumble down into the cellars under Mister Willener’s orphanage. Could we possibly have stuck our feet and noses somewhere they truly did not belong? Nevertheless, Officer Ashal and Shirriff Maplebrook have both decided to investigate this further although I doubt we will be in too much of a hurry to return.

And without Miss Eleri guiding Benny, Tibsy, Barney, Ruby and I across the rushing currents of the Loudwater and through the dense forest of fir trees, we would never have found the secret path into this deep and hidden valley. And I think Lord Elrond meant it to be that way for he seemed none too pleased with Miss Eleri for offering us shelter in our time of danger and need. “Too long to stay… this is not a hiding place for mischievous hobbits” he said. Although I have become even more skilled at undoing locks and setting traps, I did not think it wise or prudent to ask his permission to continue my trade and set up a locksmith business here.

Having said that, Masters Elladan and Elrohir have been much more welcoming to us, especially after they realised the threat on my notice was written not of ink but of orc blood. And after some initial protestation from Miss Eleri, they even allowed us to join them on their scouting parties to rid the surrounding hills of marauding orcs and goblins. I think we have proven to them that although we hobbits might never wield a sword with the same strength or vigour, our aim with a bow is just as sharp and true. And while Ruby’s singing might not move the rivers or soothe an irate horse like an elf-song does, her voice fills my heart with the courage of a boar and I find fear evaporating from me like ale in the hands of a dwarf.

I must also admit all the fairfolk I have met so far have been nothing like what Mister Kharz had warned me about. “Dinnae trust ‘dem lad. Fer ‘dey don’t speak ‘wat ‘dey mean and ‘dey don’t mean ‘wat ‘dey say.” Without Mister Maglar’s skill with his elvish herbs, I might not be writing this with my right hand just now. Mister Sereg, Miss Val and Miss Marlynna have all been quick to offer us help and kind words when we first arrived. We were joined on some of our expeditions by Miss Morwen, Miss Cathraen and Mister Nathan, visitors in Rivendell who have all also fought valiantly alongside us. Hir Ranachil, the master archivist, spoke about the last alliance of elves and men in that great war many years ago but somehow, I cannot help but wonder if there will be more such bondings in the wake of recent stirrings and sightings from the east.

So even though I have now been in strange lands as far away and apart from home as I have ever dreamt, I find myself thinking less and less of the Shire as each night goes by. Shirriff Maplebrook asked me the other day: “Do you not miss all your friends and family at home?” I oddly thought: “No, actually I don’t. I have all the friends I need here and as for family, I think I might have found… my Melda Narwamiril.”




To all that I’ve had the pleasure of playing with recently: myzel, flaterectomy, childlikedelight, johanna, the small print, intel ninja, heaven’s vengeance, soldier in prayer, mhyradin, Pvt.T, cindi, nathan irish, lazycat, misterroboto2, trista, activavita and DMs Namo & Melian... Thank you.

And to DMs Curumo & Araw: thank you for reading this thread and your kind compliments. I would do anything possible to change your minds but then again, I have left and returned to NWN more than once. But the difference is... middle earth never quite leaves you. :)

Elvish translations taken from:

http://www.nevrast.net/index.html
http://www.arwen-undomiel.com/elvish.html

[VeruMontanum]

“Ah! There you are my good fellow… so how did you like that last chapter of my book I lent you?” Bilbo Baggins winced slightly as he slowly eased himself into the warm oak chair. Ever since his arrival in Rivendell just over a year ago, he had become keenly aware of his ever advancing years and the winter chill now bit deep into his joints like never before.

Across the stone table in the library, a clearly startled Roiry Flannagan looked up and quickly put his quill down. “Mister Bilbo! I’m so sorry I didn’t see you come in. And yes… I thought your journey to the Lonely Mountain was simply incredible and I so wish I could one day meet a dragon too!”

“Young Roiry, there are some things in life you should really think twice before wishing for and a dragon is definitely one of them!” Bilbo winked mischievously. “Now then, just what is it you are writing there that had you so engrossed? Surely not more adventures to haunted crypts or run-ins with nasty orcs? Frodo always thought I gave us hobbits a bad name… but wait until he and the folk back in the Shire hear about what you and your friends have been up to!”

The younger hobbit smiled as he looked down at the envelope in front of him. “Not at all sir. I was just writing a Yuletide card to my Uncle Feargus. Miss Marlynna and Miss Amy are leaving for Mithlond soon and have offered to take a letter to him on their way past the Far Downs. I thought I should really let him know that I’m getting on mightily well and have in fact made it this far and to Rivendell of all places!”

“That’s a jolly good idea! Hmmm…in fact, I think I might just ask them if they would be so kind as to humour an old chap and drop a note off for Frodo as well. They aren’t leaving just yet, are they?” Bilbo asked.

“In a couple of days or so I think. I still have one last bit to add but it’s taking me a while to get it right. You see, I really want to tell Uncle Feargus about Ruby. I like her very much and I think… I think she feels the same way too!” Roiry gushed before biting his tongue somewhat belatedly as he felt his cheeks swell with a rosy glow.

“But of course! I am sure he would want to know all about her and then some.” Bilbo laughed heartily before looking concerned. “But tell me, how is she now since your return from that terrible quest to Moria?”

“Much better Bilbo, thank you for asking.” Roiry’s voice dropped to a whisper as he looked down at his hands. “To be honest sir, I was terrified after she was felled by the ogre's club and did not move or breathe for the longest time. Even Mister Camanna, skilled healer that he is, could only slow but not stem the flow of blood from her wounds with his finest herbs and bandages. I cried as I held her in my arms when suddenly, I felt a warm breeze blow over her and before we knew it, the bleeding stopped and she stirred to life again!”

Bilbo nodded sagely. “Then it sounds like Ruby… and you have been blessed by the Lady Varda, whom the elves revere and call Elbereth, for she hears more clearly than all other ears in Arda and she must have heard your cries of grief and despair.”

“She must have heard me then… I did cry quite loudly.” Roiry smiled ruefully. “I could not help but fear the worst and think that I was about to lose the one thing that has become the most precious to me…”

“Precious?” Bilbo absent-mindedly echoed as Roiry thought he noticed Mr Baggins’ gaze drift to a place faraway and a time long past gone. “Yes. Precious she is and precious she will be to you, Roiry Flannagan. Hold her tight and keep her with you always… for if you ever lose what’s nearest and dearest, you might never ever find her again.” Bilbo wheezed as he got up from his chair. “And now, I think I shall go and write that letter to my dear nephew and ask how he is looking after… himself.”

Roiry furrowed his brow as he watched Bilbo leave the library. Yes. Bilbo is absolutely right. And I think I know exactly what Uncle Feargus would want me to do… And with that, the hobbit continued to write:


Her name is Ruby just like the stone
And from very first day I saw her alone
A sea of tallfolk and tears of her own
Her smile a beacon my heart it had shone

Her hair a lush meadow of golden sun
Her eyes an ocean of deepest green run
She wore the cloths of one from the slum
Yet a tune of hope and cheer she had hum

Her every step a dance full of grace
Her mirthful wit lights my darkest days
She smells of daffodils in summer’s blaze
Her softest touch the warmest embrace

Far she had travelled from Hobbiton smial
For life anew adventure and trial
To sing in praise of courage and guile
And mock disdain monsters evil and vile

But rich is her talent not just with song
In battle her bow lay down the strong
Blueberry pies she can never do wrong
A spirit unchained to no cage belong

So three months now fly quick as a wink
From fullness of life to death on the brink
And quest from Misty peak to sewer stink
Her song my stealth to keep us in sync

And each step closer to the white tower
Closer to her I draw each passing hour
I ask and I pray to all heavenly power
This bond our love to blossom and flower

the warmest embrace (http://img412.imageshack.us/my.php?image=rubyandroirytb5.jpg)

I tried my hardest to rush this for Christmas but as Uncle Feargus always said "Better late than never!" :)

[Johanna]

Up the hillside of the valley Ruby sits, back resting on a tree and she looks over the setting sun. She smiles as warm as the last rays.

She picks up her pen and starts to write

And he sings
'They break the most beautiful things
But I hear whispers, when I close my eyes
I am at the center of the sun
And I cannot be hurt
By anything this wicked world has done
I look into your eyes
And I am at the center of the sun
And I cannot be hurt
By anything this wicked world has done'

She takes a deep breath and heads after a few min down the hills to the guesthouse.

[VeruMontanum]

Dear Rosie

A really big Hello! and I sure hope this letter finds you well. As I now write, sitting in the library at the Town Hall in Tharbad, I can hardly believe it’s been more than six months since we last spoke at the Green Dragon. Even now, I still vividly remember those endless nights of song, dance and just general tomfoolery after a hard day’s work on the mail run. I guess some memories will just stay with us till the very end.

You have no idea just how much I have seen and done since leaving the shire. I have defended the village of Bree from goblins, sailed on the tall-ships from Tharbad to the icebays of Forochel and even stayed in the hidden valley of Rivendell, the home of the elves! Ruby and I have met and fought huge spiders, walking skeletons and even trolls like in the stories Mister Bilbo used to tell us! But don’t you be telling all this to Samwise, or he might get itchy feet himself and think about leaving the shire as well!

You might have met her, Ruby Hamwish – she’s from Hobbiton and the loveliest lass you’ll ever meet. It’s a nice name isn’t it? I think her folks must’ve known that she would one day grow up to possess a spirit as fiery and radiant as the stone! I’d love for you to meet her… someday soon I hope when I finally make my way back home from faraway Gondor.

And just in case you think we’ve only run into nasty monsters on our travels, I have met and made friends with quite a few tallfolk, dwarves and even elves! Miss Elen and Eleri have looked after us well while we were staying at Rivendell the past few weeks. I have always thought I was good at trapping coneys and hunting foxes but Miss Elen has taught me so much more of tracking animals in the wild and now I think I can even feel it when a frightened rabbit is nearby! We might have beautiful gardens and warm fields in the Shire but much of the world outside is cold and dark. Miss Raniel, a kindly but quiet woman who walks the wild has also shown me how to spot leaves which are dry and wrinkled and to avoid walking on them and making them crack like thunder in the dead of night.

Mr Redbeard and Mr Hair’go have also been teaching me how to swing a shortsword like a dwarf swings a greataxe. It has definitely proved handy on more than one occasion. But it is really another dwarf I am writing to tell you about and his name is Naighin of the Naigh-pe-Orom clan. I met him just two days ago at the market in Tharbad and it is on his behalf that I have a favour to ask of you. He is a travelling master blacksmith and as I did not have quite enough coin to pay for a knife I wanted, I offered him a bowl of rabbit and herb stew that I made from the stock you had given me. He found it absolutely delicious and agreed to let me have the knife for less than the asking price but only if I would assure him that you would serve him the soup whenever he comes by the Green Dragon on his travels. I hope this is not too much to ask, perhaps in return for all those letters that I had sneaked through as first-class for you and Sam at the start of my daily mail-runs? I have also learnt quite a lot about rare herbs and spices from Auntie Eleri and promise to bring you back some for Sam to plant in his garden. She has a heart of gold but you’d never think that anyone in the world would be a bigger nag than Mrs Sackville-Baggins until you meet her!

We will be leaving for Edoras, the capital city of Rohan, the land of the horsemen in the morning. One of their mighty warriors, Mr Eothain has kindly offered to escort us there despite growing troubles and rumours of a war brewing. It is however one small step closer to Minas Tirith and fulfilling my pledge to Uncle Feargus and my family.

And while the Green Dragon might never be as big or grand as the inns of the tallfolk or elves, it has been and always will be the only place I think of when my stomach rumbles on a cold and wet night on the road. And it certainly will be the first place I head for when I return to the Shire.

Until then, do take care and send my warmest wishes to Sam and all the little ones.

Roiry


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Roiry strode out of the town hall after handing the letter to Mr Jernes. The clerk had curtly assured him that the letter would be sent on the next mail run via Bree later in the week. As he strolled past the marketplace looking for Ruby, he grinned as he saw Naighin Snakeater packing up his stall and preparing to leave. Just as he rounded the corner, Roiry spotted two tallfolk speaking softly in serious voices and staring nonchalantly at the dwarf. They looked lean and muscular and the hobbit noticed scabbard tips just poking through under their cloaks. They must be Mister Naighin’s hired guards, Roiry thought. After all, no sensible merchant or craftsman would travel unescorted in the wild, especially one as well-to-do as the master blacksmith.....

For Kyle Morgan/ dom.nik: thanks for organising the jumble sale. As you’ve said, it was great fun. Just let us know how you wish to continue Naighin’s story.

And as always, my appreciation to everyone for supporting and contributing to Roiry’s ongoing development. :)

[Johanna]

Ruby walked down the limestone garden path towards the small house on the outskirts of Hobbiton. The garden itself was in perfect order and she stopped for a moment, breathing in deeply to take in all the sweet scents of the flowers. She looked back to see if Roiry was following her. He stood about five steps behind her and was looking down at his feet with his shoulders slightly hunched. Ruby smiled as she realised he was obviously nervous and indeed, has not been himself the past few days since the ambush outside Tharbad.

Five days ago, she had rightly been worried when Roiry did not meet her for breakfast as planned. And to make matters worse, Mister Mathas had on that same morning handed her a letter from home which had arrived at the Greyflood Inn a fortnight ago while they were still away at Rivendell. In the letter, Aunt Hilda had written to tell her that Uncle Bobbins had suffered a serious injury after a run-in with a deranged wild boar in the Old Forest. Despite all of Miss Appleseed’s best efforts, there remained a distinct possibility that he may never stand on his right leg again.

And before she could even put the letter away, two dwarves had marched into the Greyflood, supporting Roiry in between their broad shoulders. She had never seen him as bruised and battered as that before, with crude bandages applied across his chest and arms. Ruby later found out from him that he had secretly followed Naighin Snakeater the previous night out of the city and had rushed to his aid when he was ambushed by a band of brigands and orcs. A fierce battle ensued and although the dwarven mastersmith appeared to be holding his ground, Naighin was forced to parley when the hobbit fell and was captured and ransomed by the thugs. A deal was eventually struck between the two sides which left Naighin a bit poorer and Roiry alive.

Once Ruby had tended to his wounds, she told him all about the letter from Aunt Hilda. It took only a brief discussion before they both agreed that the most sensible thing to do was to leave for the Shire and visit her uncle. The journey to Rohan would have to wait and after all, neither of them had seen Mister Eothain for days now.

Ruby’s thoughts were jolted back to the present as Roiry stifled another uncomfortable cough. Turning back to the house, she knocked on the door but didn’t wait for someone to answer before she entered. “Hilda, you here?.. it’s me, Ruby.”

Some noise was heard from the kitchen when a plate fell to the floor and broke into pieces. A weary voice softly called out…

“Ruby is that you?”

She glanced around in the small house, always so tidy, and not a single spot on the brass candlesticks.

The extensive body of aunt Hilda appeared in the doorway and her smile was just as wide.

“Ruby….. you look thin, are you eating allright?”
“Yes, Hilda… Im fine.”

Hilda saw Roiry trying to hide behind the woodpillars that held the roof in place.

“And, now.” She shoot a glance at Ruby. “Who is that?”

Roiry walked forwarad not dareing to look up.

“This Hilda is Roiry Flannagan” Ruby asnwered in his place. “He is a dear friend I have learned to know when I have been traveling. But I will tell you all about that later, where is Bobbins.. is he doing allright?”

Hilda looked at Roiry with a grim expression, then she looked at Ruby and frowned.
“Well I know you will dear Ruby, I know you will.” Then she smiles and adressed Roiry. “So mister Flannagan, are you nice to my little Ruby” The smile returned to her face when she took Rubys arm and lead her away before he got the time to answer.



Thanks everyone for everything /J

[VeruMontanum]

Meanwhile, quite a few hundred miles away from the Shire, a not so small number of dwarves were gathering in the south quarter of Tharbad. More specifically, they were all getting together at the Old Raven, the heart of the dwarvish quarter of this ancient city. While it was entirely normal for dwarves to eat, drink and gossip after yet another hard day’s work, that night saw a far bigger crowd than usual, drawn by the promise of a new song by the resident bard. It was billed as a first rendition of an epic telling of the legendary mastersmith, merchant and warrior, Naighîn Snakeater and from the rate at which his barrels of ale were emptying, Drun hoped that it would not be the last.

As the barkeep handed out his hundredth pint of the night, the impatient crowd settled into a reverent hush. With a deep baroque voice, the dwarven bard started to sing to a sombre yet stately backbeat of leather drums…


Come all my brothers; gather ye around
Lay down your hammers; let your anvils cool
Let me tell you a tale of dwarf renown
But not before your tankards are brim full

Naighîn’s his name; a very grand olde name
A Khazad born of earth and mountain blue
Hatred for orcs; his honour to reclaim
And journey forth his vengeance to pursue

All hail the dwarf! The mugging of the dwarf!
An act of cowardice and treachery
All hail the dwarf! And with a pint we quaff!
Legend behold; now drink and be merry!

And so he travelled over hill and land
In search of a mate; a stout dwarven lass
But talent he found; metal in his hand
A merchant of fame, wealth and great success

Lover of snakes; pit roasted and deep fried
His laughter to move the peak of Caradhras
Hammer and axe; no orc he can’t divide
Like a wall of stone; none shall ever pass

All hail the dwarf! The mugging of the dwarf!
An act of cowardice and treachery
All hail the dwarf! And with a pint we quaff!
Legend behold; now drink and be merry!

Tharbad he came to market all his wares
A bargain he drives; hard as mithril plate
That’s why he is a dwarven millionaire
Some might just say; he is just tempting fate

So with his pack mule; Rohan the next turn
A fool of a hobbit with every hidden step
And follow he did; his welfare his concern
But noone told him; always mind the Gap!

All hail the dwarf! The mugging of the dwarf!
An act of cowardice and treachery
All hail the dwarf! And with a pint we quaff!
Legend behold; now drink and be merry!

An ambush was laid; catching him off guard
Damsel distress; trick works every time
Foul arrows rain; upon him they bombard
Now don’t you see; t’is such a vicious crime

Fierce battle rage; of courage and malice
River of blood; until a stalemate draw
Hobbit to ransom; precious gold dismiss
But dwarven pride; the world to hold in awe

So hail the dwarf! The mugging of the dwarf!
Our gold our silver; never be our wealth
We hail the dwarf! And with a pint we quaff!
Mahal to bless; good cheer and pink of health!



A tribute to Kyle Morgan, Cindi, Intel Ninja, Johanna, Roboto and DM Yavanna for the PvP event so many weeks ago. “The Mugging of the Dwarf” was a term originally coined on mIRC by Cindi. Used without permission but what the heck :)