The Gates of Mirkwood: RPG

[Tessar]

“Remind me, again, what we’re doing here?” the voice came, tinged with boredom and annoyance. The speaker was a young girl—pretty and slim. Just past her fifteenth birthday, she still retained the edge of girlishness in her tone, but by her looks she could’ve easily been two or three years older than she was. The man she addressed was as old as she was young, and although he’d never say his age for sure, his remaining hair was pure white, and he certainly wasn’t as fast.

The two sat in the room of an Inn, typical of the cheap accommodations here in Bree. A thin rug covered rough floorboards, and the curtains that covered the little window were faded. The beds were comfortable enough though, and it was on one of them that the girl, Sarah, was laying and staring up at the dirty ceiling.

The dirt on that roof must be nearly as old as Grandpa Eaol, Sarah thought, so bored even her own humor failed to amuse her as she waited for the inevitable answer.

Eaol sighed and looked up from the letter he was writing, his spidery hand stretching across the page in a code even Sarah didn’t know. Only one or two men could translate it, and in the morning a messenger would be taking it up on a long trip north. “Because: I am in charge of investigating things that Harn and other Rangers turn up. Now if you want to continue coming along with me on these trips, when they’re safe enough, you’ll mind not to ask me that again.”

“Yes grandpa,” Sarah muttered, rolling over onto her stomach and letting out a great sigh. She was undeniably bored. She’d thought it’d be exciting to see the world south of her home, but Eaol wouldn’t let her leave the Inn without him, saying Bree wasn’t a safe place for a young lady to be out along in.

There was one thing that interested her greatly though. One person, actually. Harn, the mysterious Ranger that her grandfather seemed to know so well, and who was extremely good looking… at least in her opinion.

“Do try to get some sleep Sarah, and I promise I’ll take you out tomorrow, once the messenger’s off,” Eaol promised, pretending not to notice the way Sarah jerked up into a sitting position before flopping down limply and letting out a most unlady-like snore. She had her moments of maturity, but she was still young, and quite prone to girlish drama.

Reading over the important letter he’d just finished, Eaol folded it and marked it with his seal. Not a wax one, but instead an ink blot—seeming random, but a signal to the man his message was intended for.

It seemed Orcs were indeed scouting out Bree. Harn had been correct to write as he had, although the sight of Orcs so far south and east was a surprise—unlooked for and most certainly unwanted.

And now I’m trapped here. I can’t risk trying to get back north with Sarah, not with orc patrols running around so freely. I was an idiot to bring her, but I assumed it was a small patrol, and would be dealt with by now.

Unsettled by these thoughts, Eaol wrapped a ribbon around the letter and sat back, contemplating what he should do next.

~*~

Surrounded by the soft murmur of talk and beer mugs bumping against wooden tables, a man sat alone, sipping from a half-empty mug of his own and watching the doorway expectantly.

Harn was relieved. Kalin, a friend of his from Mirkwood, was headed to Bree, and by Harn’s calculations the elf should be arriving tonight. Kalin had promised to bring a friend of his along as well, and Harn would be glad of any help in picking off this Orcish patrol. It was unusually large and well armed for any Orc outfit; even battalions weren’t always as well put together.

Another relief was that his report had been credible enough to warrant investigation by his Information Master, Eaol. What was surprising was that the old man had brought his grandchild along. The thought brought a frown to Harn’s face, and he pressed his lips together into a thin line. An Orc patrol in this area was unusual, but shouldn’t be so incredible sounding that the old man would be so careless.

Not my problem, Harn reminded himself, I’m just going to wait for Kalin and his friend, and then we’ll pick off this little patrol with ease.

Returning from his sour thoughts to his sour beer, Harn promised himself he wouldn’t be so skimpy with his money next time he bought a drink—this stuff was awful.

~*~

Pushing through the tight-packed streets, a tall man traveled with an even taller woman, whose stature and wide shoulders brought more than a few surprised looks. The man was cloaked, and might have been mistaken for another woman, except that no one bothered to take a closer look at him, since the strange and large woman was more interesting.

“Harn said he’d be at the Brown Ale Inn,” the man murmured, just loud enough to be heard by his companion, “We should be there quite soon.”

~*~
OOC: Forgive my writing, it's late and I have to run off to bed now.

Earinil the woman is your character, unless you'd like another entrance, in which case I can edit it.

Everyone else, if you're not sure where to start, you can write yourself as walking into or already being in the Inn. I'll write a situation for us to all band together later if you're not sure how to get your character involved with mine just yet.

[Haradrim]

Drut was worried. He had seen signs out around Bree. An occasional orc print, old fires, some discarded food. "It wasn't right. Why were the orcs in Bree? Something must be wrong." he thought. "Well," he thought, "If anyone knows whats going on I'll find him in the Pony." As he walked towards the inn he noticed someone who was definately out of place. "Why was there an elf here." Something was definately up. He followed the elf and wasn't surprised where he was going. He watched him cross through the tavern to a lone man in the back. Right as the elf sat down. He walked over leaned on the table and said, "What's going on?"

[Earniel]

With one glance Beryn checked out the room the landlord had assigned to her. Kalin's room was just down the corridor. She put down her pack and removed her cloak. Then she returned to the Inn's tavern, just in time to see a man walk over to Kalin and his friend Harn and demand to know what 'was going on'.

Beryn raised an eyebrow. Kalin had only mentioned his friend Harn, then who could this be? She went to their table and loomed over the stranger. Given her size, there was little else she could do. The man, who saw her shadow, turned around quickly.

"Going straight to the issue that's on your mind, I like that in a man, my friend," Beryn told him with a friendly smile.

"But, she continued, "since we've are newcomers here I would prefer a bit more introduction before coming to what's going on."

She patted with one of her large hands on Drut's shoulder in a friendly, though slightly heavy gesture. "And as that might take a while, you can go and buy me a jug of mead as introduction."

She abruptly turned to Harn. "I know this place is called the Brown Ale Inn but they do have mead here, don't they? He said they would." she said as she pointed to Kalin who was trying to hide a grin.

[Haradrim]

"Who are these guys?" thought Drut. Well one thing was for sure they all knew each other. But why were they here? He had seen one of them before. He thought his name was Harn. Rumour had it that he was a ranger from the north. "Rangers, Elves, Orcs? What is going on?" he thought. "One beer and one mead please. Thanks" Drut picked up the two mugs and walked back towards the table. On the way back he noticed two men on either side of the bar. One was watching him the other was watching the group. He walked over as if he didn't know what was going on. He sat down next to his party, and with a wide grin, "I think we should go somewhere where we can talk in private.

[Aewionen]

In a far corner sat a young looking man, Haleth by name, drinking his ale while surveying the bustleing crowd. The air was a tad musty from the smoke of the pipes, not that that was unusual of course. With an impatient sigh, he leaned back in his chair, the old wood creaking as he did so. His eyes again searched through the crowd, as though looking for someone. Well, actually he was. But that was to remain hidden until they themselves arrived. Haleth began to wonder if they would show up at all for he didn't recieve a letter saying they would. All he could do was wait. And of course drink the lovely ale that was provided.

"Another round, 'aleth?" asked the voice of the bartender, jerking Haleth back into reality.

"If I must." he replied, handing him the empty mug with a sigh. "Make it the last though, don't want my self drunk."

"Again?" the old man chuckled as he walked away, shaking his head.

[Earniel]

Beryn's eye glistened when she saw the jug of mead. With a nod of thanks to Drut she took it and drank with the air of one who had seen her way through many, many jugs of mead before. She licked her lips.

"Not bad," she murmered, "the honey could have been a bit sweeter but for an ale Inn, it is passable enough."

She raised her jug to Drut. "I thank you, generous stranger. As long as this jug is full, you have found yourself a friend in Beryn."

"As for your suggestion, my father has warned me in my youth a great deal of men asking a woman to go somewhere to 'talk in private' without even saying their name beforehand." she continued.

She watched with some satisfaction as a faint blush crept up Drut's cheeks at her words. Beryn hid her grin behind her mug a few seconds until she could keep her face straight.

"In any case," she added with a nod to Harn, "that's for him to decide".

[PippinTook]

Pansy rode her donkey, George into the town of Bree. They had been there before many times, coming to and from the Shire and the Old Forrest and many other places. She was travelling back in the direction of home, Frogmorton, but her plans changed often and she could be in the downs by tomorrow. She would decide in the morning, now it was time for a rest and some good ale. She lead George into the stable and handed the stable boy a generous amount of carrots. "Give him one of these every hour and two if he gets mad or looks like he wants to spit on you." she said to the boy who was a good two feet taller than her.

She walked into the common room of the inn and ordered a small ale from the bar maid. "Where are you heading today, Miss Pansy?" asked the maid. "Not quite sure, Bella." said Pansy through a mouthful of cheese. "Home I think, but you know me." she grinned and Bella nodded and began shining a mug. The room was musky and comfortable. There was a fire blazing and all sorts of people talking. Mostly Big People, usually if there were hobbits they went to the Pony. She did notice one man who seemed different. "An elf," Pansy mused. "Huh, thats peculiar." she turned back to the bar and ordered some carrots which they kept especially for her in the back. She kept looking back at the elf who was accompanied by two men and a very tall woman.

Finally her curiosity over took her and she slipped down from the bar stool with a bit of a thud and walked over briskly towards the table. "In any case," said the tall woman. "That's for him to decide."

"Hullo!" said Pansy. It took the people a moment to realize where the voice was coming from. "I'm Pansy Hogswallop of Frogmorton, at your service." she said with a small bow. She would never dare curtsy.

[Tessar]

Frowning at the intrusion of this “Drut”, Harn arched an eyebrow and was about to dismiss the man when he was interrupted, again, by a loud voice.

"I'm Pansy Hogswallop of Frogmorton, at your service."

Glancing around, Harn blinked in surprise before thinking to look down. Just below his normal line of vision stood a little woman, her body in the chubby child-shape that all Hobbits seemed to have. Was there no end to the interruptions?

“Ah yes, that’s… good. Thank you,” Harn began, shooting Kalin a look and barely flickering his eyes towards the stairs, “but nothing is required of you at the present, Lady Hobbit. And as for you,” Harn said coolly, turning towards Drut, “Thank you for your concern, but there is no situation to discuss—we’re simply friends, and that hardly concerns you,” Harn had no intention of being rude, but he saw no reason to be particularly polite either.

Kalin, subtle as ever, had already worked his way from the table to the stairs—gesturing for his friend Beryn to finish her drink before she followed. Harn would want to know of her reliability before he could fully trust her. That was just his way. And now, listening to Harn dismiss the little crowd, Kalin could only wince. These rangers were hardly diplomatic at the best of times, and Harn was gruffer than some.

Not waiting to see the reactions to his replies, Harn stood and took a last sip of his ale before turning and following Kalin to the upper floor of the Inn. As they reached the top of the stairs, the man and elf began speaking in tones too low to be overheard, stepping quickly into a room and shutting the door behind them before they truly discussed their business.

“I have much to tell you, friend,” Kalin murmured, unstrapping a quiver of arrows and his bow before taking a seat. He looked tired, but still carried the elvish aura of grace about himself.

“And I have nothing to share in return,” Harn grinned faintly, dropping a door-bar into place “but I can promise you the chance of getting to pick off some Mordor scum.”

“That will be more than enough as you well know,” Kalin nodded, “but there’s something wrong here—I can feel it. Keep your sword ready tonight and sleep lightly,”

“I always do,” Harn said dryly, “but it’s already late, so lets not waste any more time. You have more news of the orcs in Mirkwood than you wrote to me?”

“Yes, much more news. And none of it’s good I’m afraid.”

~*~

“Ho!” Beryn laughed loudly as soon as Harn was gone, “There goes another man who speaks his mind! But come now Pansy, you must have a drink with me, and you as well Drut, although we’ll not be talking in private it seems.”

Eyeing the stairs which Harn had used to make his escape, Drut frowned for a moment before turning back to Beryn. “Oh, yes, of course. What brings you here though?” he asked, almost casually. If he couldn’t figure out what was going on one way, he would find out another… it was inevitable.

“Can’t say just yet,” Beryn shrugged, reaching down and lifting Pansy into a chair beside her before the Hobbit could try to scramble up herself, “but I can tell you this, I certainly didn’t come here for the mead! Not bad, but not as good as it could be… maybe I should have a talk with the Inn keeper about it.”

Taking a bite of the cheese, which she still held tightly, Pansy grinned and nodded her thanks, unoffended by being lifted into the chair. It took quite a bit to ruffle her feathers, and this large, large… large woman seemed a generally friendly sort. Of course Pansy thought everyone was a generally friendly sort, but then traveling with a Donkey like George taught one to see the best in everything.

“You both look like adventurous sorts,” Pansy announced to Drut and Beryn, “I’m quite an adventurer myself! Me and George, that’s my donkey, we’ve been just about everywhere you can go. Why once we… we… Oh!” Pansy was startled out of her own monologue by a sudden realization; “I forgot to get more carrots for George! Please excuse me, I’ll be right back…”

Clambering expertly down from the chair, Pansy ran across to the bar and requested more carrots before running off again, talking to herself all the while.

Momentarily distracted from his mission, Drut turned to Beryn and blinked. “Her donkey?”

“George,” Beryn nodded, adding a shrug as she took a sip of mead, “I suppose she’s too short for a real horse,”

“Ahhh,” Drut nodded in agreement, taking a sip from his own mug.

~*~

“Now George, don’t be angry,” Pansy pleaded with the stubborn donkey, “You’re getting plenty of carrots. Maybe they’re not the freshest, but we can’t always get exactly what we want.”

Sulkily, George turned his head away and let out a low-pitched bray. He was most displeased by the entire situation.

“Oh fine! Be that way,” Pansy muttered, dropping the last of the carrots into George’s stall. He would eat them eventually.

Turning to leave, Pansy noticed several large, cloaked figures headed towards the door of the Inn, shoving anyone in their way aside. Sword hilts were obvious, and they seemed angry enough to use them. Well! That wouldn’t do at all.

Marching towards them, Pansy followed the group into the Inn. She would have to speak with them about their attitude.

She never quite got the chance though.

~*~

Harn was halfway down the stairs, headed towards Beryn’s table, when the cloaked figures entered the Inn and paused, clearly startled by the bright light from the lanterns and candles. One of them bumped into the leader and jostled his hood askew, revealing a face for half a second.

It was enough for Harn to see though.

“ORCS!” Harn roared, his sword flying from his sheath as he ignored the steps and leapt across the banister, propelling himself towards the Orcs. There was a second of startled silence, no one knowing what to do. Then the chaos began.

Closer to the door than Harn, Drut and Beryn let loose with battle roars and charged in, reaching the fight seconds before him. They were on the orcs before any of them could draw a weapon, and Drut slammed his palm into the gut on one, spinning and catching another a stunning blow to his misshapen head. There had been no time to draw a weapon, and he let himself fall backwards as one of the orcs swung a fist at him, rolling away and giving himself space to draw his sword.

Beryn spun forward and brought her staff around hard, her first opponent dying as the staff smacked into his head with a stunningly loud cracking sound. None of the orcs could get close enough to more than scratch her as she spun and twirled her staff with blurring speed and slew one each time she lashed out.

[Tessar]

Whipping past Harn’s head as he reached the fight, an arrow caught one orc in the shoulder and left him open for a quick and easy slice of Harn’s sword. Turning quickly, Harn saw a well-muscled man drawing another arrow and letting fly across the room, taking down another orc. It was an enclosed space, and a tricky shot. Too tricky to be completed again, apparently, as the man drew an elaborate sword and charged forward.

The air was filled with grunts and screams, patrons, now realizing what was happening, were pushing and shoving to get out the back door, getting in the way of the fighters and beating each other down in their panic. The orcs had no scruples about killing anyone, but the other fighters had to be careful as they battled not to strike the other patrons.

Outside the doorway, loud clangs and excited battle cries could be heard, but those inside were too busy to notice Pansy, violently trying to clear a path through the orcs with her frying pan. Short as she was, most of the orcs never even saw her coming till it was too late.

Seemingly appearing from nowhere, Kalin stepped into the battle with two short swords whirling expertly. The elf caused nearly as much panic as Beryn had, but the orcs were still pushing in through the door. Some of them had made it past the fighters and were headed up the stairs.

”How did they get in?” Harn wondered, dropping his sword and switching to a long dagger as he lost the space he needed to wield it effectively.

[Haradrim]

"Ah, some good fighting, just what Ive been needin'" Drut thought. He drew his sword and charged the first orc he could find. He stabbed one right in the middle of his gut then whipped it out and sliced off his head. Then he pulled a dagger off the orc as he fell it threw it into the head of another orc just barely missing a patron. "Lets get these patrons out of here!" He cried. When he saw an orc raising his sword to strike Harn from behind he lept in front grabbed the orcs hand on the down swing flipped it around and shoved it reight into the orc. Without waiting for a thanks He found he had some room so he drew his bow and started firing off at orcs. 4, 5, 6 orcs had fallen to his lethal bow when he saw a little girl in the corner of the room huddled up behind the orcs where they couldnt see her. Drut knew she couldnt hide their much longer. So with a cry he dropped his bow drew his sword again and plowed his way through the ranks of the orcs. He picked the girl up who was crying by this time and holding her beneath him charged back out. He saw her mother and dropped him off. But as he turned two arrows found their way into his right and left shoulders. "Damn" he thought as he slumped to the floor.

[PippinTook]

Short as she was, most of the orcs never even saw her coming till it was too late.
Now -thats- what I'm talking about. Sorry ooc, I know.

ic: Pansy whacked the life out of a couple orcs with her frying pan, which she swung like a mace, back and forth, swish, crack, bang. She saw the other fighting off the orcs and wasn't surprised at their skill. She kicked an orc in the back of his shin and popped him on the head with her pan. She watched one of the men save a little girl and fall to the ground wounded in both shoulders. "That's no good." Pansy thought out loud. She whacked her way through the carnage over to him and kept the orcs off until he could get out of there. "I've got your back, chum!" she yelled over the screaming and shouting.

[Haradrim]

The orcs were surrounding Drut. He could only bairly parry their blows with the blood seeping from his arm. He was covered in dirt and grime. All of a sudden a large orc wielding a hammer like it was nobody's business raised his arms as if to swing but instead he doubled over in pain and then with a blow from a frying pan.
He looked down to see a crazy little Hobbit wielding a frying pan half the size of her body. Before he could think twice the orcs around him were lienging bloody piles groaning. "Eru, bless that hobbit." he thought. "Thanks," he said, "I owe you one."
She was looking worried. Apparently she had noticed the two arrows in his sholdurs. "Think nothing of it." he siad. He grabbed a fallen beer mug and drank what was left. Closing his eyes, Drut grabbed a hold of one of the arrows and yanked it clean out. "SON OF A.." He yelled. He grabbed the other and pulled it out. By ow blood was oozig down both of his arms. It mixed with the dirt and didnt look to healthy. He dragged himself up, looked at the hobbit and said, "Lets kill some orc!"
Together they ran into the frey. He soon lost sight of her and he found himself side by side with Harn. They parried and thrusted and soon there was a growing pile of orc filth around them. One by one they dropped orcs left and right.

[Eärloth]

A small silver blade lodged itself in an orc's throat: the creature had been lurking to the right hand of an offensive hobbit, but now black blood sprayed across the stout little being's face. She barely seemed to notice. Dagorwen wrenched the knife from the flesh of the orc and wiped it against her cloak before turning to the wounded warrior standing beside her. She took the arrow he had retrieved from the wound and grasped the remaining arrow protruding from his shoulder and pitilessly ripped them from the tender pierced flesh. He looked hard enough to handle more than that pain, in any case. She turned and raised her own bow, fitting both arrows to the string and drawing back firmly. Tilting the weapon to a horizontal angle, she relinquished her grip on the line: one arrow caught one orc in the eye; the other flew straight through the throat of another and caught another considerably larger orc in the side of the head. She drew her blade and with a slow but efficient grace spun it against the stomachs and necks of any orc that fell within its reach.

[Earniel]

Beryn found that her momentum had carried herself into a particular thicket of orcs. Not that she really minded it because every orc in her vicinity would soon be a dead orc, and dead orcs had her all time preference. The grandfather of the first orc that could scare her was yet to be born.

Beryn glanced around to see if any of the fighters on her side were anywhere near. They weren't. Good. She suddenly dropped to her haunches and shifted her grip on her staff.

"Time to get your feet of the ground, gentlemen! Let us see some dancin'!" She rumbled pleasantly as she sung her staff in a low, long arch into the forest of orc legs before her eyes. The staff passed through as easily as a scythe through corn. There were yelps and orcish curses of surprise as Beryn cleared a large circle of tumbling orcs in one sweep. Pansy who had been in the vicinity after all, managed to throw herself to the ground just in time as the heavy staff passed over her. Being small had its advantages.

The orcs had trouble getting up fast enough, metal gear and other orc legs and arms in their face prevented them to get to their feet. Beryn rose and took out three downed orcs with a swift jab of the point of her staff to the neck and head. She stooped to help Pansy rise again. The Hobbit hadn't even let go of her frying pan.

"My apologies, Miss... Hogswallop was it? I fear I overlooked you just a moment ago. you are quite tiny after all but I'm quite sure you're used to that by now." Without another word Beryn turned around and dealt another final blow to an orc.

The orcs were getting worried now, they clearly hadn't expected so much resistance. This small group of human defenders refused to let themselves be outnumbered and went on merrily reducing the orc-numbers by more than half of the original attack-party. And they didn't seem to be planning on stopping at merely reducing, soon the orc party would be exterminated if they carried on the way they were going. One of the orcs wisely shouted for retreat.

[PippinTook]

Pansy wasn't running out of steam quite yet. She smashed her fyring pan on the top of a fallen orc who wasn't quite dead and looked like he could do some damage yet. It fell with a twang of the pan. Pansy wasn't surprised that the frying pan never broke or dented, she thought maybe it was made out of mithril, surely dwarves needed frying pans too.

She turned around and saw a very large woman with a very large staff come crashing towards her. She leaped out of the way right before the staff smashed into the orc behind her. She took a grasp onto her frying pan and hacked at a nearby orc with a mace which knocked her over as he went down. Now, her feet were trapped by the big brute. "Lovely, this. Orcs can be a pain even when they're dead."

Beryn, the tall woman who liked mead, bent over and pulled Pansy up. "My apologies, Miss... Hogswallop was it? I fear I overlooked you just a moment ago. you are quite tiny after all but I'm quite sure you're used to that by now." Pansy liked mead too.
"Not a problem, Mistress Beryn, I am quite accustomed to my size and I suppose you can relate...in an opposite way." Beryn nodded with a quick smile and turned around and swung at an orc.

Pansy was enjoying the company, but there was still work to do. She wondered why all these orcs were here and was sure that the others were wondering the same thing.

[Tessar]

The sounds of battle had woken Sarah and Eaol up. The old man now stood in a warrior’s half-crouch—a short but much-notched blade held tightly in his sword-hand. In his younger days, Eaol had seen more than a little action, and the blade was not only much used, but had been made for him specifically when he was only a boy.

Behind Eaol, Sarah held a long dagger at the ready. She wasn’t untrained in its use, but Sarah suddenly found herself wishing she was a boy and had been able to train with weapons more. Her heart was trying to pound its way out of her chest, and her mouth was dry with fear. If her grandfather was concerned, he didn’t show it; Eaol’s face was a mask of concentration.

“Sarah get behind the bed! Now!” Eaol snapped suddenly, and Sarah leapt to follow his instructions. Even as she fell flat against the floor, the door burst open and a guttural roar sounded- met by a battle cry and the clang of steel on steel. There was a scuffle, and then a cry of surprise from Eaol.

Then silence.

Sarah glanced over the bed, and saw that the orcs had gone. And so had her Grandfather.

“Grandpa?” She whispered, standing slowly and looking around the room. He wasn’t dead… they’d taken him.

~*~

”This can’t go on much longer,” Harn thought, dodging a blow and moving away from his opponent. ”How many orcs can there possibly be?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harn caught a moment and turned towards it. The limp form of Eaol was held by a massive orc.

But that wasn’t all.

Before Harn could do more than cry out, he saw the girl, Sarah. With her dagger extended, she threw herself bodily on the orc and stabbed him in the back. Even as the orc fell dead, one of the other orcs spun and lashed out, his sword spinning with almost mind-numbing speed and slamming straight through the girl’s stomach.

She fell.

As quickly as it had begun, the battle was over. The orcs retreated, and crowded through the door way, disappearing into the streets and dispersing as they headed for the gates. They’d taken Eaol. He was what they’d risked this for.

Running across the room, Harn dropped down beside the girl, tears running down his face as he gently lifted her. She was dead.

[Telcontar_Dunedain]

At that moment another man walked in. He was tall, around 6ft 5, and clad in the same Ranger gear as Harn and carried a long sword and a short hunting bow with a quiver full of arrows. Seeing what had happened he quickly made towards Harn.
"Is she......"he said in a grim voice, full of bitterness.
"Dead. Yes. There were orcs in the inn. The biggest company yet. Listen, they've carried off Eaol, they must have found out we are keeping an eye on this place,"replied Harn.
There was silence for a minute before Drut spoke the question that all had been longing to ask, just not daring.
"And who are you,"he said to the Ranger.
"I'm Anfal. I've been sent to keep an eye on this place with Harn,"he replied. "Ouch. They look painful. While everyone else tidys up I'll tend to them."
After all had been tidied, the corpse of Sarah had been taking back upstairs and Druts shoulders had been tended to their were introductions all round and Harn briefed Anfal.
"Do we know where they are coming from. If so we could lay seige and destroy the remenants of them before they can regroup," suggested Anfal.
"No. No idea," answered Harn. "But that's not our priority. First, we need to find Eaol"

[Earniel]

"And that we shall." said Beryn firmly, pulling a knocked-over table back up. She looked mournfully for a moment at the remains of her jug of mead that lay underneath.

Looking up again she watched the tall newcomer with some curiosity. It wasn't often Beryn met men who topped her height.

[PippinTook]

Pansy scuttled out of the inn when the fighting was over and trotted over to the stables to make sure George was alright.
"Hullo good friend!" she said as she patted his nose. "We on good terms now?" she said handing him a carrot from her pocket. He licked up the carrot and pushed his nose into her tummy. "Good then. Must be off, looks like we have another adventure on our hands. I think they need me, too many Big People and no hobbit can mean trouble."

She entered the inn and helped mop up the mess. "Filthy this is!" she exclaimed as she scrubbed the floor. She noticed another man come inn and identify himself as Anfal. He was obviously a ranger and knew Harn. Everyone seemed to gather together and Beryn announced that they would find Erol or Eaol or whoever that was. Pansy didn't know but she was up for a trip. She tugged on the new comer's sleeve and introduced herself with a bow. "Hullo, Pansy Hogswallop of Frogmorton at your service!" she tried to look as tall as possible and made it obvious that she had a frying pan and knew how to use it

[Haradrim]

Drut's arms were still hurting but thankfully Anfal was a good healer. They were a bit tender but all in all they would be ready by tomorrow. After hearing about the capture of a Eaol or something like that he ventured a question. "Who is this man the scum have taken. What was his importance?" he asked. "Dont get me wrong. Im up for saving the poor guy. But I want to know whats going on and I want to know now. Excuse my rudeness but that wasnt a lot of fun for me and I want to know why I was almost maimed. Sorry"