The fateless Wanderers

In the Grip of Nightmares

Five figures stepped into the ruins of the once great tower named Barad Eithel. They entered the ruins of Fornost through the gate waded through small wetlands that had formed just outside of the tower. Four of the visitors were clearly half-orcs by the way they walked and acted. The figure that walked in the middle of the group was shouting commands to them: “Loot the bodies! If you find any rings bring them to me, you can keep the rest as long as you can carry it!” The voice came from none other than Tidhelm, who was now wading through the shallow and murky water.

A low fire burned, concealed within the small grove. The commander of the Blogkun-Hai group shielded his eyes from the others around the flames. We have failed. Not only didn’t we found the rod that we needed to find but our task of keeping secrecy has also been foiled. Only twenty-two remained, meaning that nine were either killed or made a runner. It doesn’t really matter though. Master will punish us, again and again.

Today we went into the mines along with some Dwarves from the Durin's  Folk Trading Company, the Dourhands had spread in there too. It makes one wander how do they manage to keep control of such places when the rest of the Dwarves are around.

We reached the Stone-Folk settlement as a native called it, it's the Dwarven settlement up in Forochel. The trip was not long, but the cold and the snow hindered us.

It was a good day today, we hunted, gathered wood and fruits, bargained and bought supplies and we are preparing to go North. To Forochel, the riddle has been cracked and that place is named. Everyone worked hard, now we will smoke and salt the meat, prepare the furs, put all the things on the horses that are left and leave. We are one step ahead of the enemy and that is good, we don't have to hurry that much, but we must be cautious and not lightheaded.

“Two days!” Bill was at it again it seems. “For two stinking days we have been standing here!” Captain Harrow looked over towards the crier of bad news. Most of the boys stood around him, listening to Bill’s well thought over arguments. “The green cloaks have only harassed us till now! Yet we will not e breathing for much longer if we stay ‘ere! My life isn’t worth 50 stinking coins and neither are the lives of you all!” About half of the listeners were cheering when Bill finished.