Fire in the troll

Logging Started:  4-20-2009 10:17:53 PM

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East Road - Near the Trollshaws

The trees of the forest have encroached on the road from both sides, their thick branches blocking the light, making all dark.

Obvious exits:

East and West

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[Ollie(#15066)] It is nearly dawn - close enough that the sky is lightening from black to grey, and night-loving creatures are beginning to make their various ways back to den and nest - and caves. Oliver himself is still on the road, after a long night of going in fruitless circles and he isn\'t too happy about it either. A grumpy slam of his club and one poor bush is now kindling and splinters.

That slam of the club sets another bush a-quivering - and hissing, too, a wordless thread of sound that continues as a scrawny shadow flits out from it and into the trees by the side of the road. \"Sss. Sss. Too much noise,\" the figure mutters under his breath, not quite daring to confront the King of the Shaws face to face (even the scrawniest chicken has /some/ flesh on its bones).

[Henleg(#20696)] Yet not only those creatures that love darkness are up and about this night, for there is one that hides in a small copse of trees, its grey cloak blending almost exactly with the bark that surrounds him. This figure is tall, yet not as tall as the troll, nor has it the monster\'s girth. A cowl hides the features of this strange figure, which stands motionless and silent, as a ghost would, yet a pair of keen eyes regard the troll and the scene that unfolds so near it.

[Ollie(#15066)] Oliver, as well as grumpy, is on edge. His ears twitch at the hissing, and he turns abruptly. \"Yers be quiet!\" he shouts (loudly). And, luckily for the hidden GreyCloak - the orc distracts the troll from considering if any others might be about.

The goblin - for what else could lurk beneath the shadow of the forest boughs at this hour? - scuttles behind another tree, then starts to clamber up it in order to obtain a better view of the road. \"Hush!\" it admonishes again, still in a hissing whisper. Then, disgustedly, \"Not hair nor hide of a light-lover for days. Ye\'ve frightened the meat away with yer bellowing.\"

[Henleg(#20696)] The grey-cloaked figure remains silent, yet a hand goes down to grasp a sword that lies sheathed in its scabbard. Yet the sword remains where it is, as its owner seems content to hears what transpires between the orc and the troll, rather than making something to end the existence of such twisted creatures.

[Ollie(#15066)] \"Did not,\" Oliver replies, sullenly, but he says this in a much quieter voice, as if (horrors!) he fears the creature might be right, and glances about. Then he brightens a bit, \"Dark thing said lots of foods. Mens, an\' elfs.\"

The goblin continues to stare at the road, and away from that little copse of trees, but when the troll\'s rumble reaches its protruberant ears it gives a sudden shake of its head, sending a few leaves fluttering groundward. \"The voices say find,\" it protests, the hissing whisper of before replaced by a sullen mutter. \"The voices say bring. Supposed to lure \'em, not scare \'em.\" Complaint delivered, it demands suddenly, \"/You/ seen any of \'em lately?\"

[Henleg(#20696)] The grey cloak barely stirs, yet if its face could be seen, it\'d be one of horror and revulsion. What voices may these messengers of darkness be speaking of? Clearly, not something that will help his kin and the elves maintain the peace in these lands...

[Ollie(#15066)] \"Ollie eats,\" Oliver says stubbornly. \"Not shares. /Yer/ shares!\" He advances a step towards the little goblin. \"Eh?\" Another careful look around the brightening road, and the still shadowed forest beside. Glumly, the troll admits, \"Not seen none.\"

The gobin is silent for a moment, save for the faint hissing of its breath as it descends the tree. As Ollie takes a step forward, the scrawny little creature takes half a dozen steps back. \"There\'s plenty enough to go around. Just not here. Tricky, they are. Treacherous.\" It pauses, suddenly thoughtful. \"If they\'re not here, need to bring \'em. Fire might do it.\"

[Henleg(#20696)] At the mention of fire, the ghostly figure stirs, and begins to move to a side, cautious not to produce any sound.

[Ollie(#15066)] The word \'fire\' produces a hungry glint in Oliver\'s eyes. \"Roasterds,\" he says almost reverently. There is a moment of silence as the troll wallows happily in memories of meals gone by. Then, \"Yer gots fires?\" he asks. \"Ollie\'s got kilt.\" He pats one metal bucket strung around his waist with a fat, regretful hand.

The goblin blinks its large yellow eyes several times, rapidly. \"Huh?\" Dutifully it peers up at the hung fragments of ironmongery, as though admiring them. Then a sudden smile splits its face. \"No no, not set /you/ on fire. You light the first fire - just a little one. Nice and easy to see. Then when they come, some of us creep up behind them and set the bushes alight, and ... smoked bacon.\" The skinny creature grins, showing a set of narrow yellow fangs. \"Any that get away\'ll run north - to It.\"

The goblin\'s speech breaks off suddenly. \"Wind\'s changing. What\'s that?\" The creature\'s head is up, and though it is not looking in Henleg\'s direction, it is definitely sniffing.

[Henleg(#20696)] Whatever it is that is to the North, it\'s definitely nothing friendly, if an orc would refer to it with such deference. Something dark and malevolent must be in the Northlands again, stirring all the creatures of darkness to do its bidding. Henleg, fleet as a deer, starts to run towards the east, where the laughing waters of the Bruinen flow endlessly, and where the power of the Elves will protect him, at least for the time being. These news will definitely need to be relayed to the Tirith, and even to Hir Elrond himself... and perhaps to the Chieftain of the Dunedain, if he can be found.

[Ollie(#15066)] A lovely plan. A plan worthy of Oliver himself!

Except....

The troll tries again to explain. \"Hasn\'t got fires,\" he says. \"Ollie\'s fires gone dead.\"

The goblin\'s head has started to turn eastward, nostrils flaring. At Ollie\'s words, however, it stops, and turns round yellow eyes on the troll once more. \"You ... want to carry fire? In that?\" Its tone is incredulous.

But it would never to to offend the King of the Shaws, and it goes swiftly on, in an attempt to placate, \"I can make fire. Got flint and tinder. Want me to show you?\" Already skinny fingers are rummaging in the greasy pouch hung at the creature\'s waist.

[Henleg(#20696)] While the orc tries to convince the massive troll of its ability to produce fire, Henleg runs as fast as his legs would carry him Eastwards. Already his brain is thinking of the dire news he\'ll bring to the peaceful valley of Imladris, yet the Elves will fare better if they know, or at least guess, of the forces arrayed against them and their Dark Master.

[Ollie(#15066)] A bit of grudging respect comes into Oliver\'s eyes, as well as quite a bit of greed. He plops down, ignoring the swiftly brightening sky, his position in the middle of the road, the faint faint brush of feet going swiftly away.... and orders, \"Yer makes fires. Now.\"

The goblin clearly knows what\'s good for it, for in a few moments it is down on hands and knees at the roadside, arranging twigs and tinder. The fragments of weed fluff and wood shavings have the same greasy look to them as the pouch perhaps this aids the flame, for on the fourth attempt the goblin does manage to strike a spark that does not die out. Then it\'s simply a case of letting its malodorous breath do the work of keeping the flame alive and waiting for the first wood to catch. \"I need more twigs - very tiny ones,\" the goblin huffs between breaths.

[Ollie(#15066)] Oliver reaches out and rips a handful of twigs and leaves from a nearby bush. Luckily for the orc, a good half of them are dead, and dry as crisps. He shoves them towards Barsh, watching with fascination as the fire is born - and lives!

The goblin, Barsh, reaches out for the twigs, letting out a yelp as an entire branch bursts into sudden flame right in front of its flattened nose. Scrambling hastily back, it announces, with a worried glance at the paling eastern sky - so worried, in fact, that it fails to spot the merest trembling of brush caused by the Ranger\'s swift passage - \"There. Fire, see. Ye can carry out the plan now.\" From the twitching of the creature\'s body, it seems about to dart away.

[Ollie(#15066)] Oliver leans forward, utterly entranced. His nose nearly touches the flames, and his eyes cross - but only for a moment, then he is scooting back, rubbing his face. Fire is hot! And suddenly, he too awakes to the knowledge that morning is coming. Fast. Hurriedly, he unknots the kettle, and shovels a bit of the fire inside. Good thing his skin is so thick.

And hardly waiting to see if it still burns in its new home, he dives into the woods, leaving behind a trail of smoke, and a bunch of charred wood that goes out rather quickly, for running out of fuel.

Oliver With Lamp!