Lucy's rampage
Breelands Weather
The dusk summer air is very hot and dry around you. The day sky is clear with only slight wisps of clouds overhead.
The Chetwood
You are near the edge of the Chetwood forest and the trees are not as tall nor as thickly rooted as some of the brethern. You see the trees thickening to the NorthWest, growing thinner to the East and you can just make out a clearing to the West.
A well concealed cave, blocked by overgrowing bushes and brambles, snugs under an overhanging ledge. Glimpsed through the dim shadows, a boulder can be barely discerned blocking the cave entrance.
Contents:
Lucy
Kellan
Thari
Rhifaroth
Ered-Luin Encampment
Dwarven Camp
Obvious exits:
NorthWest leads to The Chetwood.
East leads to The Midgewater Marshes.
West leads to The Chetwood.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Evening in the Chetwood after a fairly hot, humid high summer day is something of a relief, though it is still over warm and muggy. There are a few folk coming from the day's hunting or watching, and a few more preparing to go out. In the tall one's camp there is a cooking fire going and smells of venison roasting, and stew or soup bubbling. A few low voices converse softly.
His head turned to listen, trying to catch some bit of news of the Host perhaps, Rhifaroth stands quietly. The man leans against the same tree he has sat against or laid under for many days - but now he's finally up, if favoring his injured leg carefully.
Thari is sitting on a rock not far away, sewing some dark cloth cloth. The dwarf's eyes squint, the work brought closer to view, then is dropped into lap with a sigh. "Was hoping to get that done before dusk fell," comes a mumble.
[Frarin] From the other half of the forest camp come similar sounds and smells of cooking as the dwarves go about fixing or cleaning up supper. Many have pipes withdrawn now and gather around small campfires to talk and swap stories. One of them, ever apart from the rest, is Frarin. He still uses the support of his war hammer, favouring his left leg, but his walk is not so unstable now, nor as pained.
He comes near Thari, a bowl of some steaming stew grasped in one hand, the hot liquid nearly slopping over the rim as he walks. "Shall I fetch you a brand, Thari?" he says quietly. "Though I doubt you will need an extra layer this night."
Kellan comes out of his tent in the luin encampment stretching a bit from the tight quarters. His gaze falls on the sky seeing it's evening he has been planning the whole day but is fully dressed in armor, and has his hammer at his side. The warder makes his way towards the gathering group. The stout form takes notice of everyone as he moves.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Still standing quietly, and still the nearest of the men to the Dwarven encampments, Rhifaroth's grey eyes slip from the Ranger camp to the sound of rumbling, low, dwarven voices.
Immobile and not yet able to move about, the man sees Thari and Frarin, among others, not far away but he offers no greeting or interruption.
After a few minutes, someone comes from the Ranger's camp to bring the lame man a bowl of their own stew with venison for him - it is most likely Giliath, who of late has been the man's company of late. They exchange low words for a moment in the growing darkness, then the other leaves the man to eat.
Thari looks up and smiles. "No, have your supper, Frarin, and rest, you need it. Besides, it's not good for eyes to do mending by firelight." The shorter dwarf reaches up a hand as if to help the taller one with his bowl of stew while he sits.
"I was able to borrow some clothes from the newcome dwarves while mending my own. Bit too big, but I'm thankful." Thari glances in Rhifaroth's direction at motion there.
[Frarin] Frarin comes to a halt next to Thari and, slooshing a bit of the stew onto the ground, awkwardly manages to slip the haft of his hammer into an iron loop at his belt. He remains standing, politely waving away Thari's offered hand and focusing his weight on his good leg, only tentatively balancing himself with the other. "Indeed. My own tunic is nearly in tatters, I shall need to find another ere our departure home. If it comes." And indeed, what little light remains in the sky reveals his red tunic as riddled with numerous repairs.
The sound of heavy bootfalls on the summer underbrush brings Frarin's head around and he bows a deep nod to Kellan. "Hail, Master Warder," he calls, waving just as the movement of the two quietly conversing figures in the tall one's camp catches his eye.
[Kellan(#31169)] "Good'eve cousin." says the high-warder as he comes within range his stout form looks on closely to each before giving another glance around the camp. "Everyone on the mend? Seems the healers had a fight on there hands." the dwarf which speaks looks back to his camp as activity continues the newcoming dwarves help where they can fixing weapons and armor.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Once the elf has departed, the injured man holds the bowl brought to him with one hand and picks up the spoon in it with his other, stirring it about. It is, for the moment, too hot to eat.
Rhifaroth's interest in stead slips back to the voices of the Dwarves. Thari's and Frarin's glazes in his direction might, for one moment, meet his own eye. If so, the tall man inclines his head politely in greeting to them, but says nothing.
The dusk light is fading fast, here in the wood. The setting sun in the west has already retreated enough that the direct light of the sun has fled, and all that remains is twighlight, fast fleeting.
[Thari(#31038)] "Hard to get good dwarf-clothing here out in the west," comments Thari, "Unless, of course, you happen to run into some dwarves from the Blue Mountains." The healer's head is bowed at Kellan, then again at Rhifaroth.
Thari stands, favoring the left leg but relying on no support to remain upright, and bows toward Kellan. "Thari at your service. My father is Balur and we are grateful to you!"
[Frarin] Carefully balancing himself upright, Frarin takes his bowl of stew in both hands, bringing the savory broth beneath his nose. He does take a moment to incline his head to Rhifaroth though, the fading light creating grim shadows across his face. Then the spoon is raised and Frarin sups tentatively from the bowl of soup. "Indeed all are mending, Master Warder, thanks in great part to you and yours. Your arrival could not have been greater appreciated. I am Frarin son of Forli."
Kellan bows his body at the middle as the other introduces themselves. "Kellan son of Kuval at yours." he says respectfully the stout form looks at those still being tended to than back the known way of the enemy, but his attention is brought back to the other. The high-warder nods "Aye, an honor to fight alongside our cousins it has been to long for my beard." he says with a harty laugh.
[Lucy(#29415)] The usual sounds of the wood surrounds the groups camped here - critters running to and fro, insects clattering, water splashing in a distant stream. Perhaps not as far into the distance, a stirring comes from deep within a dark damp cave. Perhaps too far to be heard, the sounds of rocks tumbling over rocks, wood snapping as if a great weight were upon it. Then silence.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Finally the tall man shifts to oh so carefully ease himself down, bending only his good leg with his back against the tree for support. He manages to get the bowl set upon the ground without spilling it, then gets himself settled, if awkwardly. A hand moves to shift his scabbarded long sword to lean it against the tree's trunk by his side.
Rhifaroth then can finally pick his dinner back up to see if it has cooled enough to eat. Only now, sitting upon the ground, something makes him pause in mid motion. Did he just feel something through the earth?
[Thari(#31038)] "Indeed." Thari smiles for Kellan, then glances at Frarin. This nearer dwarf is given a frown and a sharp eye. "Why are you still limping?" asks the healer in a scolding tone. "Didn't I ever look at your leg?"
Thari drops awkwardly to a kneel and starts unwinding the silver-merchant's bandage without so much as a word of warning. "Don't you spill on my head!" is ordered. Fingers prod at the wound, then slather some sort of salve over it before adjusting the bandages again.
The earth stirs. Thari glances up, to see if the other dwarf reacts.
[Combat Function Library(#15)] Thari tends to the injuries on Frarin.
HEALING: Thari attempts to treat your wounds...
Kellan looks around a bit but feels the tremmors in the ground. He relaxes only a little as the noise stops. The dwarf moves over towards the edge of the camp where he determines the movement came from his sharp eyes are peeled. "Aye, that was either a rockslide, or we got trouble here soon." he says half to himself but loud enough for the others to hear. His hand finds his hammer but it remains at his side for the moment.
[Frarin] Frarin nods appreciatively to Kellan in acknowledgement of the warder's introduction and words of comradery. A grimace crosses his face as Thari kneels suddenly to look at his leg, not so much a look of pain as of a naughty child caught doing something troublesome. "My leg is fine, do not trouble over it." But he gets no further in his resistance, for the healer is already unwrapping the bandage there. He grudgingly mutters, "Twas an axe, from that uruk on the warg."
Patiently allowing Thari to work without offering trouble, Frarin spoons another mouthful of the stew into his mouth, careful not to slop it this time. But just as Thari glances up at the unusual movement in the earth, so does Frarin. His spoon pauses halfway to his mouth, eyes flicking to Kellan. "That's...unusual."
[Lucy(#29415)] The distant sounds fade and it is quiet again for some time. Deep within the cave, Lucille sits with head tilted upward. Nostrils flare as she takes in deep breaths, smelling the lingering scents on the air. If one could peer into the shadows, they may be witness to a lingering smile stretching slow across the Shaw Queen's lips.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Not as attuned to the earth as the Dwarves, the Dunadan looks up at the sky - what he can see of it through the canopy of leaves in the thickening darkness. But the last rays of the sun are reflected upon the tiny shreds of scattered clouds. Clouds such as do not indicate a preassure cell moving in that might bring thunder and weather.
Reading this, Rhifaroth frowns and glances around. He notes the reactions of the Dwarves, watching them.
[Thari(#31038)] "It'll be fine. Didn't realize those bandages were so fresh. Drat this light!" Thari stands, brushing hands off on trousers, and glances toward the direction of the rumbling. "I wonder what's under there?" the dwarf asks idly. "No good lines of worthwile ore here, are there? Not that it'd be worth mining with sudden cave-ins. Not without being shored up better of course."
Thari begins to limp a few steps toward the sound as if curious.
[Frarin] Shadows gather around Frarin's eyes as the silver merchant squints into the gloom. He leans down, placing his bowl of stew gently on the ground. "Thari, hold fast," he grumbles, a frown deepening beneath his beard. "That didn't feel like the earth moving on its own," he continues, almost mumbling to himself. "A boulder perhaps, but there are no sizeable slopes in the area." The war hammer is drawn from the iron loop once again and Frarin starts after Thari. "Or a fallen tree perhaps."
Kellan turns back to the others. His eyes are thoughtful but he walks back towards the others. "Let us hope, the wounded are many to move in great haste." the high warder moves back towards his encampment a moment speaking to another of the blue mountains and many more are wakened and brought to guard if need be. The stout dwarf moves back into the group. "We will see."
Thari stops at Frarin's voice and glances toward him then Kellan. "Perhaps some new devilry from the army. Haven't heard from them for too long."
Thari plucks up the mending before limping hard and quickly toward a nearby stack of belongings. The mending is dropped there and instead a noisy shirt of chain is plucked up and tugged over the dwarf's head. Helmet next.
[Combat(#13388)] Thari puts on Chain Mail Armor.
[Combat(#13388)] Thari puts on Small Metal Helm.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Listening to the Dwarves and watching them, Rhifaroth has managed to eat a few bites of his dinner stew. He glances over their own camp to see what activity is there, but men and elves are perhaps less attuned to the earth then Dwarves - for it seems quiet there, now that it has become dark.
No longer having any armor to don himself, the injured man turns his head back to look into the darkness in the direction Kellen had been concerned about. But he can see nothing, of course.
Still, the actions of the dwarves are not discounted. He doesn't move to get up, but Rhifaroth reaches for his sheathed long sword and lays it beside his right side, continuing to listen.
[Frarin] The dark sky and the heavy boughs of Chetwood obscure most of the murky blue light of night, but what little remains reveals suspicion in Frarin's gaze. He still leans on the blue hammer, but he comes to a halt as Thari goes to retrieve her armour. "Perhaps so, Thari," he again muses, now looking back to Kellan. "We should put the guards on alert. It may be nothing more than a felled tree, but we cannot be too cautious. We have camped here long enough for someone to discover us."
Frarin looks this way and that, dark eyes prodding the darker night. Then, unexpectedly, he glances at the obscured figure of Rhifaroth on the ground, the closest of those in the tall ones' camp. "Stranger, are there Rangers about? Someone who could scout quietly?"
Lucy watches as the remaining light slowly fades. She slowly makes her way closer to the mouth of the cave, listening now as thhe sounds from the camp seem to be louder than before. As she moves within the cave, hands pushing against the rock wall within, more fall to crash against the hard floor at her feet.. echoing into the shadows. She sniffs again, and a low rumbling from deep within her gut drowns out the sound of falling rock.
Kellan nods to the others. "I have put my camp on alert, what do we do about the wounded?" he says bringing his shield to his arm, and his other finding the handle of his warhammer. "If it is the army we will hold them off till they are moved." the luin camp is emptied and they rally around the high-warder he nods to each looking them over.
[Combat(#13388)] Kellan grips the roundshield in its place upon the shield-arm.
[Combat(#13388)] Kellan wields War Hammer.
Thari flinches at another low rumble that can be felt, and then a growling sound. The shield is slid onto arm and axe pulled free. "Here I'll look like a fool if there's nothing more than a tree," the dwarf laughs low while limping back toward Frarin, past Kellan and his dwarves. An expectant look is given to Rhifaroth.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Frarin's inquiry causes Rhifaroth to turn his head to try and look into their own camp to see who is about. But sitting upon the ground, he has limited vision due to brush.
His food already set aside, the injured man turns his weight over onto his right side and begins once more to carefully move to get to his feet, keeping his injured leg straight and without movement or weight upon it, as he is able. A hand drags his long sword closer to the tree, and reprops it against there.
Using both of his hands, teh man drags himself to his good leg, gripping the tree to pull himself up. Rhifaroth looks over towards the Rangers' camp before he glances back at Frarin, "I do not know who is about, but surely there are some."
[Frarin] The low rumble may not be audible away at the wooded camp, but the grinding of stone can certainly be felt in the feet of those accustomed to dealing in rock. Frarin's mustache blow out as he expels an expectant breath. "No, we shouldn't move the wounded yet. We don't know for certain what direction they come from." He points in the far off direction of the rumbling. "There it is again."
He glances to Rhifaroth, but only nods at the man. "Don't trouble yourself, Stranger, only stay on your guard."
[Thari(#31038)] "Probably nothing." Thari laughs tightly, twisting the axe a little bit. "I still say it sounded like just a cave-in. What would be the point of mining under our camp?"
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Frarin's advice to stay on his guard but not to trouble himself too much otherwise is received with a faint grunt, from the injured man. Rhifaroth looks around again warily, but is no condition to put up a fight if there is trouble. His bandaged left thigh is not going to hold his weight at all this soon.
"It's too dark to go blundering around lightly, but someone should go look."
[Frarin] Frarin continues to peer into the dark forest, face still as he listens for further rumblings from the earth. A minute passes and still there is no other sound, no other vibrations, only the noise of the camp coming to alert. A nod is given to Rhifaroth at the man's short words and Frarin looks behind him. "Yes, it is not wise to sit and wait. If this is the host is come at last, then a quiet Ranger will be little more benefit than a loud dwarf. The camp is obvious enough to those with eyes to see and noses to smell it."
He hefts the heavy blue war hammer up into both hands and, fortunately, the darkness hides the flash of pain that crosses his face as extra weight is suddenly applied to the injured left leg. His eyes narrow to mask the grimace. "I will go forth if someone will accompany me."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
His tattooed and scarred face frowning into the darkness, the man listens but also hears nothing nor feels nothing more through the ground. Grey eyes glance once more up at the night sky but all that can be seen through the thick summer foliage is a hint of bright stars in a clear night sky.
Thinking, his voice low, Rhifaroth says, "I was attacked by a troll not far from here in the late winter."
Looking to Frarin's dark form in the night, "It's cave, if I know my orientation here, is a bit south of here, near the road."
Thari gives a quiet gasp at Rhifaroth's words. "Frarin!" says the healer, low, "You can't go after it! You were using your hammer as a crutch just a moment ago! Let someone else go."
Another thoughtful glance is given to the man. "This noise isn't from the south."
[Frarin] Frustration wells in Frarin's eyes just as a harsh frown mars his face. The slight tip of his stance forward suggests a strong desire to see the situation himself, but the silver merchant doesn't move. His shoulders drop irritably and he shakes his head, his words unusually clipped. "Fine fine, I'll stay. At least I won't scout out." The resolution seems less than resolute, though, as evidenced by his apparent refusal to return the hammer to his side as a crutch.
"The south, say you?" he says to Rhifaroth. "I agree, this didn't feel as if from the south. But a troll perhaps. It felt like a great weight dropping." Frarin's head goes around to the assembling dwarves. "Hal!" he calls, apparently beckoning one of the dwarves forward.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Rhifaroth doesn't comment about the direction, he just looks into the darkness around them all too mindful perhaps that if there is a n incident, he can neither fight nor flee. The man draws a breath but keeps his place, leaning against the tree for support.
Voice low but relaxed, he only says, "I won't gainsay it, but so long as you know that there are both caves, and sometimes trolls, this side of the Marsh. Not often, but of late, the Morian host may have made them bolder."
Thari smiles broadly at Frarin, white teeth showing in the darkness. "Well!" the dwarf's voice is mightily pleased. "I'd hate to say it, but if it's only a troll instead of a whole army, that's good news for us."
[Frarin] Fortunately Frarin's back is to Thari, but Rhifaroth might see the whites of the silver merchant's eyes as he rolls them briefly towards the heavens with a look of long suffering. "Troll or host, we cannot afford to allow whatever it is near the camp. There are too many still wounded." He nods at the man. "We know the army brought with them trolls from the mountains as well. And we should not be too cautious with the light below the horizon."
From the ranks of dwarves appears one clad in a long, faded red cloak, attired as a warder. "Frarin?" says the dwarf Hal, nodding to the silver merchant with a question in his eyes. "There is a troll cave somewhere to the south of here,” says Frarin quickly, “near the road. And the vibrations in the earth come from somewhere north. If we are being circled, I want to know about it." The warder gives a fierce nod and turns at once. Orders begin to fly, though even the rumbling dwarf voices are kept lower than usual.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
There is no further comment from the injured man. Rhifaroth keeps his peace and stands a quiet, wary wartch from the location of his tree.
There was however, some movement in the tall one's camp, but it is still now. Someone else has slipped out to have a look perhaps, or to inform others who are absent.
Thari's generous smile is shared with Hal, and a nod. She tucks her axe back into her belt and removes her helmet, smoothing a hand back over her hair. "Good thinking, Frarin. Sensible of ye to not be marching off with them quite yet, either."
Halbarad has connected.
Kellan steps out of the confrence with the warders under his command. The dward rubs his beard thoughtfuly a moment. "Yes we cant be to scatterd." he says over to the others moving towards them.
[Frarin] Were Frarin of the sort, a second rolling of the eyes might be in order. As it is, his sombreness settles for a huffed grunt in response to Thari's words. He does, however, make some effort to justify his staying put. "Sensible not to have /anyone/ marching off just yet," he rumbles, nodding to Thari. "Let the scouts come back first." Other assembled dwarves nod at this and some begin to reseat themselves, their weapons close at hand. From the camp break two groups, one headed by Hal and moving off into the darkness to the north, the other moving south. Slowly the camp begins to settle into an expectant hum of voices.
[Thari(#31038)] "Oh, yes, right." Thari pats Frarin's arm and limps a bit away, back to the handy sitting-stone. There settled, she looks over to Kellan. Her helmet is set in her lap, her shield at her feet. "What do you reckon it was?"
[Kellan(#31169)] "It may be a guess, but I believe that was no rockslide." the high-warder says firmly, he still wears his armor and holds his shield and weapon. The sturdy form looks around the camp once more. "We have missed much though, what comes our way this army?" Kellan looks on though a weird time to gather information.
[Something(#22695)] Zhi leaves Ered-Luin Encampment.
Zhi has arrived.
[Frarin] Strange timing perhaps, but the camp has quieted a little as the wait begins. Frarin even reaches for his bowl of stew again, now only lukewarm. He shifts his weight to his good leg and drops the war hammer to his side, letting it rest against his thigh. "It is an army out of Moria," he answers quietly, taking a spoonful of the soup. "We came across its tracks...two or three months ago now, and have been in Eriador since. What their purpose here is, though, none can say."
[Thari(#31038)] "It's been so good for our spirits to see you and your men, Kellan," Thari says, fingering the edge of her shield. "Months now I've been seeing-- well, nevermind that." She flashes a glance to Frarin out of the corner of her eye.
Zhi lifts the flap away from the tent that had been set up for the healers. The smaller statured figure waits and speaks quietly to someone still within the folds. With a nod, Zhi turns and walks away and toward the smell of stew. Surely it has cooled by now, but the acolyte is far too hungry to care. The others are given little notice as she approaches the pot, scooping out a ladel of the food and pouring it into her bowl. Mostly broth now, but it matters little. She tilts the bowl up to sip from it as she finally turns to peer toward the others.
Zhi swallows, and licks the moisture from her moustache before wandering closer. "Hail friends.." comes her quiet voice before she takes another sip.
Kellan nods his head in agreement "We are glad to be here along side our cousins no matter which way this goes." the sturdy figure turns at the sound of a well known voice. "Well Zhi, got a moment away from seeing the wounded did we." he laughs and motions the other over. "Have you been able to visit with out kin at all?"
[Frarin] The silver merchant nods along with Thari's words and if he notices her glance, he says nothing of it. "Your arrival is the first good news in a long while," he rumbles. "I know not what knowledge you have of these Rangers, but while they are good allies, they are few in number. A second company of dwarves is most welcome." The approach of the Ered Luin healer heralds a bow from Frarin, as deep as his bad leg allows. "Hail, cousin," he says. "You have no doubt been kept plenty busy here, but know your minstrations have never been more appreciated."
Thari's measuring glance to Frarin is interrupted by another healer's appearance. She pushes her shield aside and stands to bow toward Zhi as well. "It's been a wonder to have some help, I'll tell you that, and I'm grateful for it. Thari at your service, from the Lonely Mountain."
Zhi laughs a little and sighs toward Kellan. "Sadly, I have not had opportunity as I would like to speak with our extended family. I hope that there will e quiet days to come to allow me the pleasure." She offers a warm smile as she nods once toward Frarin. "It pleases me to be able to assist where I am able. I hope that you are feeling better?" Eyeing his injury, she fights the urge to guide him to sit and prop his leg. "Zhi.." she offers to Thari before turning eyes to her. "Acolyte and healer of Kelehdur. It is a truly a pleasure to witness the small differences in healing methods between our clans. Most helpful and educational. It is wonderful to meet you all. Is anyone in need..? More drink? Stew?"
[Kellan(#31169)] "suppose you just have begun to meet them." he says another sly smile on his face. Kellan turns back watching his warders as they guard the boarders of the camp. "If anything comes close we will at least be warned." he says assuredly be army or troll." the high-warder looks back to the company
[Frarin] Frarin nods a second time to Zhi as she formally introduces herself. "Frarin son of Forli, silver merchant of Barazin," he says politely. He drains the last of his soup and, as if sensing the prying glances of both healers, reluctantly takes up his war hammer again and leans on it for support. "A pleasure to meet you as well. No more soup or drink for me, thank you. I have had enough for the evening. Have you supped yourself?"
[Thari(#31038)] "Yes, always good to trade tips with other healers," Thari says in a bit of a quiet voice, looking to the side. "I've had a bit of a time patching up elves this trip. They don't cry if you hit 'em, but they will if you pour out their wine. There's my own tip right there."
Zhi smiles and chuckles a little, "I try my best to not hit nor pour their drink. I have tried it, I will admit. It certainly does not please the tongue as our own brew, but it will do in a pinch." she winks and looks to the others. To Frarin she raises her half-empty bowl. "I fear most that is left is broth, but it is serving its purpose." With that, she turns up the bowl to her lips and drinks the rest of it down. "How are our elf and human company?"
Kellan listens in to the talk between the two dwarf homes. His mind turns to the protection of the camp again a moment turning to look at the dwarf guards. It seems all is still well. He runs his fingers through his beard again in thought but does hear the conversation chuckling at the talk. "It'll be interesting to converse with them a bit i've seen there type on the road before."
[Frarin] "We shall have to strive to keep the pot full then," Frarin says gruffly. "We cannot have our healers becoming ill from lack of nourishment." But as Zhi inquires about the men and elves, the silver merchant lowers his voice somewhat, glancing to the camp of the tall ones. "They are an interesting sort. The elves I have not seen much of, but the men, those they call Rangers, are strange ones. How much do you see of them?" he asks Kellan. "I was wary of them at first, but they have proven steadfast allies."
[Thari(#31038)] "You like that stuff? Soured juice it is." Thari wrinkles her nose at Zhi, then leans closer to the other dwarves, lowering her voice and glancing around. "I still don't like those Rangers. I don't know why they're helping us. I think they're up to something. And that one, Strider, acting as if we've come to help /them!/" She sniffs. "If it weren't for us they still wouldn't know the army was out there I'd warrant."
Zhi chuckles, "I would never claim to ENJOY it.. but if there is a need for drink.." she leaves it at that when the subject moves on to the elves and 'Rangers'. She listens to the comments intently, waiting to offer her own.
Kellan is silent a moment but does answer "I don't know much of them except they have appeared on the great road and have seen what I believe is there kind at the elf home beyond it. I would imagine they are good allies, well see what the combined might of the dwarves can do though more daresay than many will think." he grins under the beard.
[Zhi(#32256)] "I have met few.." Zhi begins, "but they have not given me reason to doubt their good intentions. I have heard of their standing in battles til the last of them has found safety, be it elf, human or dwarf. For that, I am pleased to have their company among us." The priestess glances back to the pot before looking at her bowl. Without another word, she turns and goes to fetch more stew.
[Frarin] "Aye," nods Frarin, shifting his stance slightly and glancing again to the other camp. "I had only heard of them before this situation arose. In Bree they are not spoken highly of. But then," and he pauses, actually giving a thin smile to Thari, "neither are we. I cannot think what their reason for helping us or Bree is either, but so long as the aid is forthcoming, I will not question it until I have evidence to do so." Again addressing Kellan, Frarin nods, businessness-like. "Indeed, Master Kellan. Indeed. How many are your company? Ours was forty ere we set out from Rivendell, but there are many wounded, and many lost." The last bit is added with apparent effort, Frarin's voice low.
Thari stands, leaving her helmet and shield at the base of the stone. "I'm going to get some stew myself," she says in a sombre voice. She pats Frarin's shoulder once in mute sympathy as she passes him, heading toward the fire.
[Kellan(#31169)] "We know the same, it has been long since we have seen the blue mountains, we started with thirty of our kin, but have also suffered through travel and trade." the high-warder looks back to the camp though those they have left are all willing and his encouraged by the meeting of the peoples. Kellan looks back to his cousins "Do we know the numbers of the enemy?" this is said a bit softer
Zhi returns, without her bowl, but with a chunk of bread. She tears off a bit with a tug of her teeth and chews quietly... listening to Kellan and Frarin for a moment. "Even if their number is greater, their will is not. Mahal will guide us, and we will overcome them" She takes another bite of bread, and shows no doubt in the words just spoken.
[Frarin] The silver merchant shakes his head, looking to the ground. "Nay, not precisely, at least. Our company has three times clashed with the host. The first two involved only small contingents of the army, and the third was at night. That was atop the tower at Weathertop, but then the ground seemed to swarm with them. Over a thousand, perhaps, if not more. Wargs and trolls travel with them as well." Frarin bows in agreement with Zhi as the healer returns with her meagre meal. "That I can agree with. Each meeting the dwarves have been vastly outnumbered, but we wrecked a greater damage than we took. The Maker is our force, but only darkness guides them. And darkness is blind."
Kellan nods "I have no douts that the dwarves triumph where they fight." the high-warder speaks to each. "Just wish to know what we look at so that a sound strategy can be found that will soundly defeat this rabble once and for all." he looks at the edge of the camp getting a nod of all clear from one of the warders on guard there
Zhi smiles. "Very well spoken, cousin. The both of you." she finishes the bread and has a glance skyward. "I should check on the patients again." As Zhi turns to give her goodbyes, more echoing sounds fill the night. Rumbling akin to thunder, or as if a piece of the earth has drawn itself up, erupts in the distance and brings small trembles underfoot.
The acolyte frowns now, her gaze to the distance instead of to her company. "I fear I will not get those quiet days I had hoped for. I will advise the others to be prepared.. This may be yet another active night." With that, Zhi takes her leave.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
The rumbling of the earth disturbs the rest of some who try to sleep at this late hour of the night. Though the sound is perhaps too faint or distant to be picked up clearly by human ears, even a man can faintly feel the disturbance through the ground.
A man stirs, stiffly turning over where he rests, laying at the base of a tree not far from the Dwarven camp's edge. This attempt at moving his injured leg wakes Rhifaroth as much as the disturbance. Shifting a hand, the man rubs at his face, then reaches out to lay upon the hilt of his sheathed blade that lays in the darkness beside him.
There is no other movement. Now awake again, the man listens.
[Frarin] "No rest for the weary," says Frarin, again with one of his odd little smiles. He bows to Zhi. "Farewell and may you find rest at least before the night is out." But alas, it seems the healer's words are only too true. The grim frown returns to the silver merchant's visage and his gaze lifts towards the direction of the rumbling. "Nay, no rest for the weary indeed." This time the comment is more resolute, more statement-like.
"Lads, on you feet," calls Frarin to the seated Ereborian dwarves. Again his stance shifts forward, as if straining at invisible bonds. He slowly lifts his war hammer into both hands.
Zhi has disconnected.
Lucy has connected.
[Kellan(#31169)] "To arms!" the high-warder calls though most of the dwarves are already at ready. "To me." the stout form calls and those guards form around him tightly. "Whatever may happen or not the wounded are given priority guard." the dwarf holds his hammer out towards the sounds coming still in the distance. Kellan looks to the erebor dwarves
[Lucy(#29415)] The sounds seem to grow louder now, and come more often. Rock scraping rock, trembling of the earth.. and beneath it all a low growl. The sound is not from any domestic beast, nor any local wildlife. Deeper than a bear, lingers longer on the air than the howl of a wolf.. and with the depth of the cave the echo seems to never end.
[Frarin] Frarin gingerly eases his weight onto both legs as tremors pass from the ground to his boots. Other Erebor dwarves also begin to ready themselves, some facing the same direction as the silver merchant, others careful to watch the whole perimeter of the camp. Frarin's gaze again searches the dark wood for anything, any shadow darker than the rest, still listening for the sounds of crashing undergrowth.
He waits a moment longer, then painfully stumps towards the base of a tree, where a pile of garments and blanket lie. As he leans towards the pile, the sound of chain mail tinkles in the night air, as if he wears already a hauberk but he pulls from the heap also a chain mail coif, which he slips over his head.
Then that low, long growl rends the night. With a grunt, and gritting his teeth as he limps back towards the direction of the rumble, Frarin rejoins the ranks of assembling dwarves to await whatever approaches.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
There is less alarm and fanfair amid the tall one's camp, for indeed it is almost deserted as is often the case. Most of the Rangers and the few elves among them are out in the night hours, keeping a close eye following the movements of the Morian horde - and thus, not here.
But their camp is not entirely abandoned, either. Rhifaroth is here, and at least one other still injured Ranger, and one of the elves has been about recently, though not seen at the moment.
For his own part, the strangely tattooed man sits up now. He shifts his things about so that they will be more easily reached when he stands. He then makes stiff, careful effort to get to his feet, weight only on his good leg. Donning his light weight grey cloak, but leaving his small pack where it rests, Rhifaroth picks up his long sword and buckles on the sword belt, looking around in the darkness to see which trees are close enough that he might try for them if he must move.
[Kellan(#31169)] The group of dwarves of the blue mountains are ready and formed up. The stout forms watch in every direction in the front of there lines is the high-warder "If anything breaks the perimeter of the camp let it through to be surrounded and than take it or them down." Kellan holds his own hammer spinning it in his fingers almost eagerly.
[Lucy(#29415)] The camp would not have to wait long.. for the sounds heard has been the slow push of the boulder away from the cave entrace. Large eyes peer out from the darkness of the cave to the darkness that awaits her. Lucy waits, sniffing the air around the entrance before her head appears beyond. Large shoulders follow, arms and elephantine legs. Standing just outside of the cave entrance, she stretches her arms up high so that she comes to her full height.
Food is on their fires, she can smell that.. but she can also smell blood. Some of them have been injured. She had seen the warg, and heard its rider grumbling about an encounter.. but this.. so close! Lucy smiles as she begins her slow approach.
[Frarin] Those injured dwarves that can walk with support are gradually moved to one area where a grouping of trees creates a mild form of natural protection, and several Ereborian warders take up posts next to their Blue Mountain cousins to form around the wounded. A sudden noise from the south brings several heads around, but it is only the returning scouts, the second of the two groups. "No action towards the road," their leader reports. "We took a wide circle, but returned when we started feeling the vibrations again. They're lessened as you travel south."
So the rumblings are indeed coming from the north. And where is the scouting party that moved off in that direction? So far they have yet to return.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Giliath has not shown up to assist Rhifaroth - he must be away from the camp. Indeed, no one has shown up to assist him. Nor does he look for it. The man keeps a sharp look out towards the north as well. But it is so dark.
Turning his head towards the Dwarves who are forming up, he raises his voice from his position against the tree, "Light... we'll need light."
[Kellan(#31169)] The group of dwarves swell. imposing many stout bearded formed with differing weapons, they stand ready. The sounds approaching only makes them ready though not knowing if it's the army or what will come through has the high-warder watching carefully the camp split was a bad idea wondering who caused it. Kellan "What chance of the others returning from scouting the other army?" he calls out to see if there is anything else unexpected coming.
[Lucy(#29415)] Slow steps, measured. She knows she has time. They would not be going anywhere. There.. the lights of the few cooking fires flicker against the trees and she can see the movements of bodies running. Another slow smile comes to Lucy's face and she reaches for her club, drawing it out slowly as she moves. She gets closer, but still enough of a distance away so that if there were any of those flying sharp sticks about, she may have time to move before they reach her.
For those who are not gifted with good night vision, i would merely seem the path to the north had grown dense with the concentration of night. To those who were, Lucy's visage would clearly be seen. Her head tilts this way and that, listening, sniffing, waiting..
[Frarin] "Keep those campfires stoked!" Frarin shouts to the Lonely Mountain dwarves, nodding as the tattooed man calls out to the dwarves. Several Ereborians move swiftly to poke and prod the various firepits into full life. Soon the camp is alight with a golden glow, which would seem warm if it did not create even greater shadows surrounding the dwarves, elves and men. "Keep to the trees, Stranger," Frarin calls to Rhifaroth, seeming to take note at last of the man's precarious condition. He even takes a limped step towards the man as if to aid him in moving towards the other wounded, but there is no time for that.
Of a sudden a crash in the undergrowth betrays the approach of not one, but many figures, obviously smaller than a troll. It is the warder Hal and his small group of scouts, and they approach from the northeast. "There's a cave to the north!" he calls to the dwarves. "We did not see it, but we heard its echoes as a great boulder was wrenched aside. Something approaches."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
There is no need to warn Rhifaroth to keep to the trees. He has edged carefully around to the southwest side of the tree he used to gain his feet, and made note of which other trees are close. There is no sign of other men or elves now... those few others who were about have since slipped into the trees, even the wounded Ranger. But they are around.
To those who have heard it before, the sound of a troll moving through the forest is not one that will soon be forgotten. Rhifaroth's face may not be visible in the darkness, but it is grim indeed, focused upon what comes, not the returning dwarven scouts. The man makes no move whatsoever to join the Dwarven wounded, wishing to stay where he might have a chance to manuver.
[Lucy(#29415)] Ever closer, more bodies come together in hopes to defend their encampment. Lucy drags her club along at her side and her eyes are only for the flickering fires and the movement ahead. She has come to stand just beyond normal sight, beyond the golden glow, yet she has made no movement to rush forward. Those bulbous eyes simply watch, and listens to the shouts between the men.. Odd behavior for a troll, indeed.
Kellan listens in closely as the sounds come ever closer.His face is sturn as he stands "Easy lads." he says to those formed around him. The high-warder stands at the front of the line he is ready for whatever may come into the camp.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Standing very still, listening carefully, the injured man does not move from the tree he leans against to stand. He does nothing that might attract the creature's attention to himself. But Rhifaroth's eyes can now make out the looming halk as the troll stops, survaying their arrangement, the lay of the camps.
He licks his lips, does the Southerner. With his shoulder against the tree, his left leg slightly bent, the man's right hand is moved to rest upon the hilt of his blade ... waiting.
[Frarin] A mixed set of emotions battles for control over Frarin's face. Both relief and tension come with Hal's announcement relief that it seems the tremors come not from the Morian host, but tension at waiting for the cave-dweller with the strength to move a boulder aside. The silver merchant slowly, teeth clenched as he limps, makes his way to the head of the ranks of dwarves, not far from Kellan. And with apparent frustration, his dark eyes dart about the wood, prying, willing something to appear.
[Lucy(#29415)] "Far from home.." the grovelling sound of Lucy's voice bellows over the movement of armor and weapons. She takes another step, and the faded glow of the fires finally touch upon her rough skin. Her eyes seem to be the only thing to reflect the light, giving her pupils an eerie glow as she watches the camp. She continues to approach, the brighter ring of light upon her now, revealing more of her hulking form. She draws in a deep breath through her nose, eyes nearly closing as she exhales.. "Blood..." she murmurs, almost dreamily.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Blood... yes. Rhifaroth's breathing is a little fast, watching this hulking creature inhale the scent of them all. Though most of the blood has been washed from him, likely enough he still smells of it - not to mention his bandaged wounds.
But so do many of the Dwarves in the other camp. Pale grey eyes slip for a moment from the troll to the much needed allies, the Dwarves. Frarin in particular catches the man's eye for a moment, before Rhifaroth makes his own attention refocus upon the threat.
Kellan looks to his left and right as the trolls form comes into view he doesn't seem any army to speak of. "Stand firm remember the wounded! Dwarves to war!" he calls raising his own hammer above his head the group following him splits in the middle to allow the troll to be surrounded, as 'bait' the high-warder is in the middle of the lands shield in one hand hammer in the other "Your own blood about to spilled." he says under his breath
[Frarin] Frarin does not need to the pry the darkness for long. He sucks in a breath as the she-troll's gravelly voice echoes across the camp and he turns just in time to see her brown-grey skin enter the light of the fires. But a growl boils up from Frarin's throat, an anger pent up and now slowly readied for release. Although he limps still, there is no grimace now to break the grim look that holds his visage. The dwarves of Erebor swiftly move in to fill the gap left by the spreading Blue Mountain dwarves.
And for a moment, time hangs, as hot and stifling as the summer air. Then it hurtles forward. "Protect the wounded! He'll have no blood tonight!" Frarin bellows over clanking armour and weapons. And with another cry, he awkwardly, painfully, charges.
Lucy's grip to her club steadies, and she remains just within the second ring of light from the fires. She watches the calculated movement of the dwarves, and finally one calls for the attack. She watches Frarin approach with a pleased gleam to her eye. "Come, lil' fur-face.." With shoulders haunched, she waits for her attacker to make the first strike. Finally, Lucy gets to play.
[Frarin] Frarin needs no more encouragement and happily obliges. Despite his limp, he covers the ground between him and the troll with considerable speed, though noticeably, the quick movement brings a gradual dark stain to his trouser's leg, as if the wound there has begun to open up again. The merchant has no mind for that though, for he soon nears Lucy. The blue hammer twists in his hands and the long spike cuts the air, aimed for the troll's left stump...er, knee.
You attack Lucy with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Lucy parries your attack with her Club!
[Lucy(#29415)] The hammer swings and Lucy moves out of the way. The smell of blood rushes to her nose and her eyes blink slow. When they open she turns toward Frarin and swings the club in a low arch, sweeping up as if to knock him from his feet and toward the trees ahead.
Lucy attacks you with her Club!...
...and she hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 48 hp's by Lucy's attack...
...you have 34 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Kellan rushes up ahead of the crowd. His cousin takes the first shot at the hulking mass he is next in line on the other side rushing passed though he takes a hammer swing at the back bend of the trolls leg. The stout warder has only concentration in his eyes.
Kellan attacks Lucy with his War Hammer, but he misses by an arm's length.
[<#27282>]
As the Dwarf charges, the man uses the distraction to move. Rhifaroth leaves the single tree he had been leaning against for support. He risks putting his weight on his bad leg as little as he can and almost hops, shuffling to a small group of nearer but smaller trees. Still he grimaces, but the injured man manages not to fall.
Now positioned better, though no further away, Rhifaroth mutters under his breath, "
[Lucy(#29415)] Impact! And Lucy laughs deep as she spies yet another of the furfaced dwarves come at her. Turning away from Frarin she takes a swing toward Kellan, this swing brings the club to sweep in front of her and slam into his side.
Lucy attacks Kellan with her Club, but she misses by a mile.
[Halbarad(#30370)]
There are trees and shadows, darkness and night there is fire and food and warmth by the camp there are dwarves and men and a handful of elves, and there is a large shadow between the approach all these: a troll.
And there is a music, too, music on the breeze: a low sound, first, a fair mimic of the owl's song and then a twang and a whistle from the north, from the direction of the troll's approach.
And finally, there is a voice: "Is that /Lucy/?" it asks, almost breathless.
[Combat(#13388)] Halbarad wields Longbow.
Halbarad launches an arrow...
Halbarad's bowshot hits Lucy, mildly wounding her.
Tinduial has connected.
[Kellan(#31169)] The dwarf misses the surprisingly quick moving troll. He growls but has little time. Kellan dives to the side to miss the club strike and is lucky in doing so. The high-warder is back on his feet, the stout form rushes back in over head striking at the trolls leg once more.
<OOC> Lucy says, "Hey, i was minding my own biz and this furfaced person came at me"
Kellan attacks Lucy with his War Hammer and moderately wounds her!
[Frarin] To say that the troll's club hits true would be an understatement. To say that it hits well would be an understatement. The force with which Lucy's club strikes Frarin cannot perhaps be put into words. Strike is even a dull word. The club slams into the silver merchant's chest and lifts him bodily from the ground. For a moment he seems plastered to the crude weapon with the force of the momentum, but then he is flying through the air, ten feet, fifteen, twenty. By the time Frarin crashes to the earth he is more than thirty feet away from Lucy, almost back at his starting point.
And when he lands, it is in a heap of tangled clothing and mail and blood. He lands face down, beard grinding into the dirt. But beyond the initial collapse, the crumpled dwarf is still.
Lucy missed? She looks at the club as if it betrayed her. But it appears she gets another chance! Lucy turns to watch Kellan approach again, and as her name seems to be breathed along the air she feels a pinch near her shoulder as the arrow connects.. sways loosely, and falls to the ground. Kellan's weapon connects to her knee, bringing a slight wince to the large troll's features. She steps toward Kellan and takes another swing, much like for the first dwarf, to sweep him toward the line of trees.
Lucy attacks Kellan with her Club and badly wounds him!
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
The short distance to reach the troll may be just a bit far for him to attempt, but Rhifaroth draws his blade from its scabbard and keeps a hold of the thin tree trunks with his left hand. Careful, he eases around the small stand trying to think of what way he might try to lend aid to the Dwarves - even as Frarin has bad seriously hurt.
Before he might try something foolish, an arrow speeds out of the night to strike the stony troll flesh, and a familar voice calls something that makes little sense to the Southerner.
Rhifaroth does not turn his head to look for Fletcher. His own eyes are for Frarin, who has gone down hard, though closer to him than before. The injured man hisses something foul under his breath and quickly works his belt to remove his empty scabbard. Resheathing his blade into it, he puts it to his left hand to use as a cane as best he might. Then he leaves his cover, trying to move towards the fallen Dwarf. The man drags his left leg, barely able to put his weight on it and quite unable to lift it. But he is determined and at least for the moment, not falling on his own face with the effort.
[Halbarad(#30370)]
"Luuuuuucy," comes the same voice from the trees, carried soft on the wind -- but well loud enough to make itself heard in the camp, and to troll's ears. "Lucy, dear love, I've brought you a treasure," it claims, and another arrow flies from the trees--
--to get her attention, no doubt.
Halbarad launches an arrow...
Halbarad's bowshot hits Lucy, mildly wounding her.
[Frarin] Still the crumpled form of Frarin does not move. It lies splayed out, right arm tucked under the breast, the other cocked at an odd angle towards the dwarf's back. The glinting blue war hammer lies somewhere in the darkness beyond the light of the fires. And although the merchant's face is not visible, a dark stain begins to spread out from his form, the glimmer of dark red mixing with the dark earth.
Kellan tries to dodge the strike again. He brings his shield around but the strike connects the shield splinters flying out of his hand a sickening crunch and snap as his arm flies at an odd angle blood spraying from it he is sent sprawling to the ground some ten feet from where he had been. The high-warder lands on his front "Of all the." he gets out with a cough. He pulls himself to his feet rushing forward with one hand swinging the hammer around like a baseball bat at the trolls leg.
Kellan attacks Lucy with his War Hammer and moderately wounds her!
Lucy watches her club connect to Kellan, and the pleased look returns. She hears her name once more, and turns toward the sound to watch the arrow fly toward her and hit. This one does not linger, but instead makes contact with her midsection and falls to the ground. She laughs and looks ahead into the trees. "Treasure.." she repeats, and starts to speak again as a very persistant Kellan strikes at her leg again. He hits, bringing another wince and a growl from the Shaw Queen. "Join your brother.." she growls and swings again toward Kellan.
Lucy attacks Kellan with her Club, but she misses by a mile.
[Tinduial(#22550)]
Night has brought more than trolls to the fore. Men and dwarves alike scamper through the night like mice. One does it better than most. Scampering, I mean. The Mouse herself approaches the melee with bow strung and arrow knocked. The moon hovering somewhere beyond her shoulder as she leaves southern roads behind her. She sights the troll as the beast swipes at one of the unfortunate dwarven kind, and lets fly... and scampers forward again...
Tinduial launches an arrow...
Tinduial's bowshot hits Lucy, mildly wounding her.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Almost falling on top of the Dwarf himself, but catching himself with his right hand and right knee, Rhifaroth has managed to reach Frarin. Keeping his scabbarded blade in his left hand, the Southerner lays his right firmly upon the collar of the Dwarf's armour, beside Frarin's neck. The man makes no effort to try and wake or treat the injured Dwarf, not yet.
Instead, Rhifaroth scoots himself as far back towards the trees as his right arm will allow him, then he braces his good left leg and heaves upon Frarin's body as hard as he can, dragging the downed Khazad a few feet closer to cover.
Except for a quick glance over his shoulder to keep the troll's placement fixed in his mind, the injured man does not let up his effort. It is repeated, quickly, though his own face blanches with the pain in his own chest wound.
[Halbarad(#30370)]
"Luuuuuuucy," comes that voice again from the trees, Fletcher's, from the sound -- though the words are most strange from a Ranger. "Lucy, come here. Leave the little fur-faces be, and I'll give you a treasure. Fresh meat, and /shiny/ things."
But still, another arrow accompanies the voice.
Halbarad launches an arrow...
Halbarad's bowshot hits Lucy, lightly wounding her.
[Kellan(#31169)] With the battle not going well for the two whom had lead the two separate parties the dwarves of the blue mountain now rush forward. They come in defense of the wounded of the camp. They swing there weapons though each seems a little more warry than usual this troll acts different than those they have seen before. Kellan still near the troll yes "Gaaah you first!" the is able to dodge the blow from the troll ever so closely. The high-warder has lost a lot of blood and his next strike is over head but with only one hand it's not his best.
Kellan attacks Lucy with his War Hammer and lightly wounds her!
[Lucy(#29415)] Arrows! Why are there always arrows. One connects, and falls away.. a second comes and sticks sure into her arm. She pays it little attention but there it says, swaying dangerously from her skin. She has little time to respond to the teasing voice from beyond as Kellan comes at her again, striking at her leg again. He hits, but the blow is not as strong as the others. She wastes no time in swinging her club toward his side in want to toss him toward the ring of trees and shadows.
Lucy attacks Kellan with her Club and moderately wounds him!
[Tinduial(#22550)]
The Mouse cocks her head, and if possible, she would have pricked her ears as well...but despite the name, she -was- only human, thus she merely moves forward, toward Rhifaroth and Frarin. She whips another arrow from her quiver and before she starts toward them, she fires at Lucy again, adding arrows to the Captain's attempt to garner attention. For now, she says naught - merely fires.
Tinduial launches an arrow...
Tinduial's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Teeth gritted and bared in his tattooed and scarred face, Rhifaroth scoots back on the ground again, brushing his cloak off to the side to keep it out from under himself. He heaves once more on Frarin's collar, then has to pause to get his own breath.
The man looks back behind himself to see how far the trees and brush are yet ... still a bit to go.
Long sword still in his left hand and sheathed, Rhifaroth uses that arm to lever himself back again though it's painful. Then he heaves on Frarin once more, feeling the stitches in his chest wound tear, the flesh beneath his bandage parting. He does not look this time to see if Lucy is closer or further away. Nor does the Southerner see Tinduial leaving her own cover.
No, Rhifaroth drags Frarin a few more feet, getting close now to the brush.
[Halbarad(#30370)]
The arrows have done little good so far, and that draws a sigh from the voice in the wood. There is the sound of footsteps, then -- obvious footsteps, making no attempt to hide themselves -- and a sword whispering as Halbarad draws it from his sheath.
He appears in the clearing, then, behind Lucy, and gives a sharp whistle.
"Hoy, Lucy!" he calls now, from much closer something rises and falls in the air above his hand, something gold, something bright, something glittery. "Lucy, my love! I've missed you so -- I brought you a present!"
[Frarin] Even as the wounded Rhifaroth makes a pained effort to reach Frarin and grabs the dwarf about the collar, still he makes no movement. The man successfully manages to pull the immobile khazad a few feet, but does he drag a corpse? Only a trail of mingled blood and dust and dirt is left behind, even a few shattered chain mail rings detach as the dwarf's still form moves.
All indicators suggest that Frarin is good and dead, for there is no effort, no movement from the merchant as Rhifaroth makes his painful push towards cover. But as the man pauses to stretch himself out to gain another few feet, there is the the slightest movement from Frarin. His back rises and falls in an ever so shallow motion. Small, perhaps, but Frarin, it seems, still breathes.
[Tinduial(#22550)]
Tinduial mutters something to her ownself, and from the inflection, it might be swearwords...but Rangers do not swear do they? She crosses the open space between herself and the wounded Rhifarroth and Frarin, not firing this time...she does not want to draw attention to herself this time. She reaches Rhifaroth and her voice is, as always, as parched as the Harad desert and whispering.
"So, you forgot to duck again, eh?" and she reaches down to help collar the khazad and drag him, "This 'un looks done for..." Her voice is quietly troubled.
[Lucy(#29415)] Finally! The club delivers a blow to the hard-hitting and persistant Kellan.. and just in time. The voice that had called her name has finally brought a face into the light. Lucy turns and lets her gaze fall to Halbarad. Her eyes squint as she stares at him, and seems to (for now) ignore the shiney object he holds abovee his head.. Familiar. This one is familiar. "Lucy remember you.." comes the rumbling voice as she assumes a stance. She does not advance, at last, not yet. "You .. far from home." Now she eyes his weapon, and the golden object before staring at the man again.
[Frarin] Even with Frarin no longer heading the Ereborian dwarves, they close in with trained precision. Several stout fellows garbed as professional soldiers fill the gap left by Frarin's airborne departure and merchant and warder alike circle Lucy warily. Tentative attacks are made towards the troll, but for the most part, the bunched dwarves strive to keep the hulking Queen of the Shaws away from the wounded.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Tinduial's voice coming to close to his ear and Rhifaroth is for one instant, startled. But the man tries to get his breath for another heave, his own voice thin and hissed, "He's alive. Just moved."
Not trying to get up from the ground himself just yet, Rhifaroth throws his own weight back even as the Mouse lends a hand with the downed Khazad. Between them they move Frarin a few more feet towards the now near cover.
Not giving up, nor leaving the Dwarf to Tinduial who may or may not continue her efforts, Rhifaroth scoots back and pulls yet again on the silver smith, dragging him just a bit more still.
[Kellan(#31169)] "Take tha.." the high-warder begins to say but the club strikes his lower chest he is lifted off his feet rings breaking and another wound opening where he was hit blood trickling. The stout dwarf isn't hit as hard and falls right on his butt. "We'll see about that.." he groans taking a bit longer to get up this time. The perhaps fool hearted dwarf rushes back in as fast as he can. Kellan swings his hammer around the side in an arc this time at the knee of the massive form
Kellan attacks Lucy with his War Hammer and moderately wounds her!
[Halbarad(#30370)]
Lucy's recognition draws a smile to the Captain's face, and he takes a single step back as she takes note of him -- but his sword remains low, ready to come up to stave off a club's attack, but not yet offensive.
But a frown breaks his features as the dworf continues its attack. "Are the little fur-faces hurting you, Lucy my love? That's not nice. They should stop and leave you be, shouldn't they?"
The golden object? A coin, but it glimmers and gleams as it flies into the air and back down into Halbarad's hand.
Lucy continues to eye Halbarad as dwarves continue to come at her. She sweeps her club down among them, sending bodies into each other and beyond. She starts to step toward the man as he flips his coin, when Kellan comes at her yet again, crashing into her knee with his hammer. She cries out, the pain of being hit in near the same place with that blasted hammer THREE times has taken its toll. She turns and glares, ignoring Halbarad and his shiney and turning all attention to Kellan. She raises the club above her head and brings is down hard, as if to drive his body into the ground..
Lucy attacks Kellan with her Club, but Kellan parries the attack with his War Hammer!
[Frarin] On Frarin is dragged, entirely unaware of either his predicament or his rescuers. The trail of blood and dirt lengthens as his form comes ever closer to cover. But Rhifaroth's effort does not seem for nothing. Gradually the dwarf's back moves again, then again, a shallow and irregular breathing, but a definite sign of life nonetheless. Then suddenly Frarin's body gives one weak shudder and a coughing, wretching sound is muffled where his face meet the ground. Dust scatters as the dwarf coughs and a splatter of blood flies from his mouth.
[Tinduial(#22550)]
Cover approaches and without resistence, the Ranger and the Southerner are able to get Frarin closer to cover...what with the troll being handily distracted. Tinduial's nose wrinkles at the blood, "He's likely wounded within," she pronounces flatly, "That troll's club did a right good working over." A healer would have to assume that dwarf anatomy shares some similarites to human... She glances up to see how the Captain fares, and her eyes wrinkle to espy him standing and taunting in the middle of the clearing. Her jaw works briefly before turning back to Rhifaroth, "What about you?" She regards him with sharp eyes.
[Kellan(#31169)] The high-warder is lucky or unlucky? He is swinging his hammer over his head when the troll strikes it glances off the hammer which sends the dwarf off balance already wounded and onto the ground rolling once or twice. Kellan shakes this latest fun off quickly finding his feet under him. He moves quickly back into attack position finishing the strike he had one handed over his head at the troll.
Kellan attacks Lucy with his War Hammer, but Lucy parries the attack with her Club!
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Lucy may be distracted by the Ranger, but... there is also the smell of fresh blood. Ample, fresh, hot Dwarven blood. And now also a hint of a man's blood, as the left front of Rhifaroth's shirt begins a new stain just below a long slice in the shirt that has been recently mended.
The Southerner's efforts with Frarin are for a moment paused as the man leans forward to grab a new hold upon the Dwarf, to turn Frarin over onto his back, rolling the silver smith one body width closer. They are now at the edge of the trees, finally.
There is no answer for Tinduial's question, not yet. Rhifaroth shifts his bad leg once more, and scoots back, then heaves one last time to drag Frarin into the brush with them. Then he lays flat back on the ground himself, breathing hard, "See what... you can do... for him, Sabine."
[Halbarad(#30370)]
The talking doesn't seem to work, and apparently the dwarves are reluctant to take the hint -- though spoken with insulting words, it's but to be expected -- and Halbarad's lips press thoughtfully.
"Oy, Lucy!" he calls once more -- and this time he chucks the gold coin at her head.
[Lucy(#29415)] Club to hammer sends Kellan flying, but quickly he returns for yet another attempt. As he swings again toward her leg, she wedges the club in his way to deflect the blow. The club is raised again toward Kellan, and as Halbarad calls to her once more, her head turns. "You are ne.." she begins, but is interrupted as the gold coin he had once held in his hand now flies toward her and smacks her firmly on the head. She blinks, eyes fluttering as the shiney object falls and bounces against her stomach and onto the ground. She watches the glinting light from the fires dance off of its surface as it rests on the ground, but turns suddenly to swing once more at Kellan.
Lucy attacks Kellan with her Club and badly wounds him!
[Tinduial(#22550)]
"Likely not a hell of a lot until this attack ends," Tinduial grimaces, "Could end up needed some things I can only get from the camp." She whips out her healers pack though and probing the various wounds she begins stuffing some foul smelling mixtures into some gaping wounds, and some interesting elixers that have the look of orc blood into others. She glances up at Rhifaroth.
"What is wrong with your leg?" she queries.
[Frarin] The sight that greets the dark night as Frarin is flipped over is not pretty, though not perhaps unexpected. His face is slick with blood and dusted over with the dirt over which he had been dragged, and the dirty redness has even thickened the strands of beard about the dwarf's mouth and chin. His tunic, though naturally red, seems darkened in a way that even night cannot cause, and dust and stray leaves cling to the damp material.
His eyes do not open, but Frarin's mouth lolls awkwardly as a second shuddering cough wracks his chest. Blood pools in his mouth and outlines his teeth, but ragged breaths escape him, though there is no hint of a return to consciousness yet.
[Kellan(#31169)] A tough dwarf is the high-warder, but sometimes enough is enough. He takes another shot to the stomach of the sturdy figure which more cracking is heard as he is lifted off the ground and blown back. His top half strikes one of the trees, and spins landing behind the tree. Kellan does not pull himself up but lays crumpled behind the tree.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Finally getting some breath back, Rhifaroth levers himself back up onto his right elbow, then brings his scabbarded long sword over in his left hand to lay it before himself so that he can use both arms to lean over on. He looks at the Mouse and then glances at the bandages that bind his own left leg from groin to knee, "Amon Sul... something tried to take my leg off." Then he almost laughs, "I can't beleve my luck!" But it's been undenably very ill luck, mostly.
Mindful that it's not over yet, Rhifaroth leaves off his rest and drags his good right leg underneath himself. With a great effort, he manages to force himself back up, grabbing at the near brush and slender trees. He almost falls twice, but gets his balance. Once up, he turns his head to try and see where Fletcher is and how that man fairs with the troll.
[Halbarad(#30370)]
Still, the Dunedan has not attacked the troll, even as she beats up on the dwarves the coin is fetched from the ground near her feet as she takes a swing at the dwarf, and he winces as her club connects and another of the small fellows suffers a bad case of troll.
"Will you come with me now, Lucy love?" he asks, flashing the coin and taking another step back. "I've fresh meat for you, and more presents -- if you /want/ them. Or I'll give them to my other love."
Lucy watches as Kellan goes flying. After her strike, she bends as if to pick up the coin.. but it is gone. She lets her large round eyes roll up to peer at Halbarad. "You.. will not win.." she growls and stands at her full height again. Looking around, many of the beings here are injured. The smell of blood is nearly overwhelming. Instead of following the man, she takes a step back. She eyes one of the fallen, and promptly scoops him up in her large paw. She makes a show of plucking the armor off of the dwarf and throwing it toward Halbarad one piece at a time. The bearded body is barely able to protest, and after all of the armor is stripped away she eyes Halbarad. "Lucy has no love." and as her voice falls silent, her captive begins to scream. Her fist begins to close around him as she takes another step back, and another, letting the shadows begin to fall on her once more.
[Combat(#13388)] Halbarad unwields Longbow.
[Combat(#13388)] Halbarad wields Aderthad.
[Tinduial(#22550)]
Tinduial glances up from her work as the scream is heard. She winces, and casts her sight aside, a sigh from her lips. She murmurs something soft and ties a cloth around a nasty wound on the dwarf's chest, pressing down firmly before standing. Not much more she can do right now.
[<#27282>]
Having his breath back, Rhifaroth now stands quietly resting a moment more and watching what is going on from the thin concealment of the trees. His hands then go to unbuckle his belt to slip his long sword back into its proper place. The scabbard bumps lightly against his bad leg, but doesn't bother him.
Turning his head to look back at the near tree where he has been the past several days, looking carefully around at both the ground and the tree's limbs. He mutters to himself and moves carefully, favoring his ill leg, "
[Halbarad(#30370)]
Halbarad's gaze follows the troll as she fetches a wounded dwarf, but he has little time to act before the armor begins to fly his way -- he dodges the breastplate, and the helmet clangs off his sword as he deflects it. But those grey eyes are touched with firelight and sorrow at her declaration -- and at the poor dwarf's scream.
"Put him down, Lucy love," he says, his voice clear, and he follows the troll step for step. "Or I'm going to have to hurt you."
Lucy smiles and continues to step back into the dark. Another squeeze of her hand brings another ragged cry from the dwarf. "Hurt Lucy.. Lucy will hurt dwarf." She holds out her hand so that Halbarad will have a good view of the captive's pain-ridden face. As she eases her fingers, the dwarf's limbs fall limp. He coughs once, twice as his head lulls forward over her finger. "You stop.. and Lucy stop squeeze."
[Frarin[ It might be the scream of that most unfortunate dwarf in Lucy's grasp that brings Frarin to, or it might be the firm hand of the female Ranger pressing the cloth to his chest. Whatever the reason, the silver merchant's eyelids flutter, then flicker open and the whites of his eyes reflect in the light of the nearest campfire. Despite the blood covering Frarin's face, however, the damage seems centred around his chest and midsection, for though his eyes take a moment to focus as they are forced open, when at last they are, there is a clearness of thought in their depths. Indeed, a painful awareness. Almost as soon as the dwarf's eyes open, they shut again, scrunched shut and jaw tightening as the reality of his broken body is translated at last to his mind.
His jaw remains tight, but Frarin's eyes are forced half-open again and his head lolls awkwardly to his side. There are bushes and the smell of undergrowth and of blood, and Frarin's gaze rises just high enough to catch sight of the tattooed figure pressed against the tree near him. And that is it. The momentary consciousness is overwhelmed by whatever bleeding takes place internally and Frarin's eyes roll back into his head. Once again he is still but for a shallow breathing interspersed with shuddering coughs.
[Halbarad(#30370)]
Halbarad's steps halt. And his sword remains low.
"Put down the dwarf, Lucy," he says, his voice low, steady, even. "And I'll give you treasures to keep for your own."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Coughing, and then the Dwarf's eyes opening, roaming about, then looking at him... Rhifaroth sees this as his attention for one moment has left off his search for his missing bow and quiver. The man frowns at the silver merchant, then he speaks in a low voice, "Hang in there, Frarin." But, there is a lot of blood coughed up - pierced lung, even an ex-soldier of Gondor can see that much.
Looking away, his own face tight, Rhifaroth moves away a bit further, keeping a hold of what trees he can for support. A few hops on his good leg, drag of his bad leg, and then he's back at the tree where his things have been left.
Still no bow to be seen. It must have been lost at Weathertop.
[Lucy(#29415)] "Food.. Food is what Lucy need.." she takes more steps back until she is shrowded in darkness again. "Food, Lucy has" There is a gurgled scream from the dwarf, the sounds ring through the night air.. and then stops. There is a grunt and then the sounds of heavy footfalls going further into the night. Soon after, the body of the dwarf (what is left of it) can be seen flying back into the firelight... straight toward Halbarad.
Strider has connected.
[Halbarad(#30370)]
Halbarad's sword drops as the body comes flying toward him but he does not duck nor flee the missile. Rather, arms rise and a foot steps sharply back to balance him as he catches the dwarf.
Blood splatters on his chest, staining the drab of his tunic and cloak with a deep, dark crimson. His eyes remain a long, narrowed moment on the darkness that houses the troll--
--and then he turns, sword left upon the ground, to carry the now even shorter figure back into the camp.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Not finding his bow and quiver anywhere, Rhifaroth turns at the sound of the mangled Dwarf's cry as Lucy drags the Khazad into the darkness... the injured man tries to get back to the other trees where he can see better, hopping and grabbing at the trunks once more. His bad leg though has taken quite a bit of jostling.
He is in time to see Fletcher turn back towards the camp and start back into the light, carrying an oddly shaped form. It looks like a Dwarf's body, but hidiously maimed, whether dead or alive.
Rhifaroth turns his face away to glance back at Frarin, where that one lays upon the ground in the cover of the bushes, so bloody. The man leans against the tree that supports him and grimly watches Halbarad with his grisly burden.
[Kellan(#31169)] The way of the treeline stirring can be heard if one listens closely. The high-warden uses the tree finding his feet just ever barely, his arm with hammer still in it across his middle a deep gash and broken rib's. "Cant believe." Kellan starts shaking his head as he makes it back to the camp he falls flat once more and is out again.
[Halbarad(#30370)]
Lucy's snack still breathes, but his breath comes shallow and rattled from his injuries as Halbarad rests the dwarf beside the fire, tugging his own cloak from his shoulders to press against the dwarf's wounds. It's likely the wounded fellow won't live out the night, as much blood as he's lost but the Ranger does this all the same, grey eyes narrowed and features flat.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
There are several Dwarves wounded, down and bloody. Their own kind now swarms among them, picking them up to drag back into their camp, or to bring light to treat them where they have fallen if too seriously bleeding to even move, just yet.
Two of these seek out for Kellan, rumbling voices low to each other. Torches are born from the fires to look into the darkness, seeking the newly wounded. What devastation to hit the camp where so many were already injured.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Sore, his own shirt reblooded from his retorn chest wound, Rhifaroth eases his way from hand hold to hand hold, back to where Tinduial is with Frarin. Careful of his bad leg, the man watches for some of the other dwarves moving to seek the wounded.
"Over here, your silversmith, Frarin lies." His low voice calls to them. And indeed, it takes only a moment for two of them to break off and come trotting to seek their comrad.
Lucy has disconnected.
[Something(#22695)] Zhi leaves Ered-Luin Encampment.
Zhi has arrived.
[Tinduial(#22550)]
Tinduial raises from her kneeling posture, and greets Rhifaroth with a nod, "He does not look good," she mutters, eyeing Rhifaroth warily for a moment.
"What of the one that screamed?" she picks up her pack and settles it over her shoulders again, and picks up her bow.
[Halbarad(#30370)]
"Sabine?" comes the Captain's voice after a long moment, and it is flat as the grey of his eyes. "He breathes, but shallow can you tend him? He's well beyond my skill."
And his lips press after he speaks, gaze flickering toward the wounded silversmith and Rhifaroth and the one called the Mouse. There's sorrow behind his gaze, but the steel of it is hard-pressed to let it through, save in a brief glimpse of firelight.
[Strider(#19187)]
The treeline yields another figure then, and hastening into the light comes the tall figure of Strider. Twice do his eyes scan the scene, ere he moves at once to join the others. His hand flies to his swordhilt ere he asks quickly of Halbarad and Tinduial:
"What has happened here? Is there still a threat?"
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Fletcher's own voice answers the woman, but Rhifaroth inclines his own head in Halbarad's direction to answer her as well, "Over there... poor fellow's legs are off. Troll mauled him."
Looking back at the Mouse, he then moves his hand to gesture her to go on, "I'll see what I can do to assist here until his own folk come for him. He needs to be on his side to drain the lung, lest his choke on his own blood." He may be no healer, but he knows such wounds.
Strider's voice though, Rhifaroth looks up but lets the others anwser. With a hand on the near tree, he lowers himself carefully onto his good knee beside Frarin.
[Tinduial(#22550)]
"No more than usual now," Tinduial replies to the Chieftain, nodding sharply at the Captain, "I will have a look at him...try and make him as comfortable as I can..." she does not sound overly hopeful though. A glance is given to Rhifaroth and she moves off to ...well...assist the legless dwarf in dying...
[Halbarad(#30370)]
"It was Lucy," Halbarad adds his own report to Strider's question, his words flat. He gives Tinduial a nod -- and a brief look of relief, of thanks -- as he pushes himself from his knees. His clothes are blood-covered, but he moves as though none of it is his.
"We need to move, else she may return for another..." he waves a hand toward the camp as he frowns. "...meal."
Zhi comes out, slow at first.. but when she sees that the immediate danger has gone, she summons more healers from the tent. A small army moves toward the wounded, seeing to the worst first. Zhi notices Rhifaroth kneeling next to Frarin, hher eyes squinting as she takes note of his condition. With the help of several others, she begins seeing to his wounds then and there. More healers pan out, checking those limping or lying around. They come upon Kellan, and begin to remove his armor to check his wounds.
[Strider(#19187)]
Nodding to Halbarad's words, Strider's fingers relax upon his pommel, though they do not leave it. "Aye, you are right. How soon can all be made ready?" Keen eyes then turn to the maimed dwarf, and a silent word passes his lips at the sight of him.
"Are there any others who need assistance?" he says aloud then, watching Tinduial move to the legless fellow's side trust in his gaze at her back.
[Combat(#13388)] Kellan takes off Ring Mail Armor.
[Combat(#13388)] Kellan takes off Metal Helmet.
[Combat(#13388)] Kellan unwields War Hammer.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Tired and sore himself, but in far, far better shape than many here, Rhifaroth tries to assist with Frarin until the Dwarve's own folk arrive. Then the man eases back out of their way and pulls himself up using a near tree.
His attention then turns to where Strider, the Mouse, and Fletcher are gathered. But they are out in the camp's clearing and there are no trees to hold to, to get to them. So he waits, resting a few moments before he decides anything more.
[Halbarad(#30370)]
"Not that I know," Halbarad gives his answer as he steps away from the legless dwarf, but his gaze does not so easily leave that one. It lingers, and there's a touch of sorrow in it.
Drawing a breath, though, he tugs his attention away and skims the camp. "You well yet?" he calls quietly in Rhifaroth's direction.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Zhi and her healers have come for Frarin, picking up his battered body and moving him carefully to where they will have light to tend him by. Others have found Kellan and bring him back to their camp as well. There is much murmuring among them, and sad head shaking, but they are tough folk. There are no tears among them for fallen friends and kinsmen, just grim industry to do what needs doing. Several also come to see what might be done for the mauled, legless Khazad, but there really isn't much that can be done. Small comfort even for one who is no longer conscious.
Fletcher's hail draws Rhifaroth's attention from whereever his own tired thoughts had slipped to. He stands with his weight on his good leg, both hands upon the thin tree trunks amid the brush next to where Frarin was laying.
"I'm all right. Some torn stitches maybe, nothing more."
[Tinduial(#22550)]
Tinduial works economically, her movements abrupt, but there is no real hope in her face. After some minutes, she pauses in what she was doing, rising and rubbing her hands together, smearing the blood on them.
"I am sorry," she murmurs to his kin, "He is gone. Too much of his life's blood..." A shake of her head. She glances toward Strider and Fletcher a moment, before moving onto another of the wounded, her work not yet ended.
It is perhaps a kindness, for the mauled Dwarf that he has slipped away so quickly. His folk incline their heads to Tinduial for her efforts on their kinsman's behalf, but they say nothing. They take up the body of their comrad to remove him to their tents where his body can be prepared properly come day light.
[Halbarad(#30370)]
Where Rhifaroth's reply receives a nod from him, a soft curse escapes the Captain at Tinduial's pronouncement, and the frustration shows a brief flash on his features. "I was too late," he frowns. "Too little, and too late."
[Strider(#19187)]
"I fear even the Master of the House could have done no more, Sabine," says Strider softly, watching her endeavours a moment or two longer ere he looks then to Halbarad. "Nor indeed could his sons, were they both at hand to aid you. It is a grave loss, but grave is the enemy also, and fell. I honour this fellow's courage, and I shall gladly dig at his burial -- yet now there is need of haste."
He steps forth to Rhifaroth then, and asks: "Are you well enough to move?"
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Strider's coming across the small clearing over to where he stands within the trees, still leaning against them for support, Rhifaroth glances up from resting his eyes. It's been a long night filled with many interruptions before even the troll came.
There is humor maybe in the Southerner's voice though, "Maybe, with cruches, wagon, or horse. But I can't walk on it, yet." Deeply cut muscle can take months to heal and recondition.
Rhifaroth shrugs, "I'll make do. There's no staying here."
[Halbarad(#30370)]
Halbarad offers no answer to that, but gives a slow nod even as he draws a long breath--
--and then the frustration is gone. Or, at least, placed elsewhere that the matter at hand may be attended.
"Let's away, then. The cookfires need dousing, the camp scattering..."
[Strider(#19187)]
"I can look to that," nods Strider to Halbarad, and he tucks his scabbard beneath the fold of his cloak. "And then I shall loiter behind after the wagons have rolled. If Lucy or any of the orcs trace our steps, they shall have a distraction indeed."
Nodding to Rhifaroth then as well as his fellow Rangers, Strider says: "Fletcher will lead you well, friend from Gondor. Let us regroup further in, and closer to the road."
With that, he starts to his task, kicking into mere embers the nearest fire.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Strider's words are met with an inclination of his head, but Rhifaroth says nothing himself. He glances towards Halbarad, then turns to start making his way back towards the tree where the rest of his things still lay upon the ground. He keeps to things he can hold onto, or hops a few steps until he has made the short span between, favoring that ill leg.
In a moment he has his small pack, but his bow and quiver have apparently been lost back at Weathertop.
