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Welcome! This is a Lord of the Rings roleplaying game based on the trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien (book verse).

Frodo and Sam failed in their quest to destroy the one ring. It is lost in Mordor, and the two Hobbits had no choice but to turn back. The fate of Middle Earth once more is undecided.

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One Ring to rule them all..
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» Keeping Up The Guard Still, TA 3019, late January
Aglanor
 Posted: Jan 12 2015, 21:52
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Group: Men
Posts: 16
Player: Chris
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Desperate times required desperate measures, and a lot of drudgery. With a number of the active Rangers in the area gone with Halbarad to whatever fate lay South, there was more to do for those who remained. The guard around the Shire was getting some holes already.

Ironically, that also meant that Aglanor had not been able to fully recover from his injuries which had kept him from riding South with the company. Instead, his little brother had gone, adding yet one more worry to the Ranger's already extensive list.

It was evening now. Time to get some rest an check on the barely healed wound, which he could already feel had been stretched a bit too much during today's activity.

He had already started a small fire to heat some water for the herbal tea he had promised Malenora he would take regularly when he decided to do the regular check on the wound first. There was unlikely to be anything needing special attention, but that had been another promise.

When he checked, though, he was glad that the promise had made him do it. It turned out the pull Aglanor had felt actually had been some of the stitches giving. He winced. Really, he ought to be more careful or the cut, as clean and simple as it had been, would never heal properly. Carefully, and with enough cursing to make it worth the while of anyone listening, had there been any, he dressed it all again, using up the last clean linens from his pack.

By the time he was finished, he noticed that the fire had grown to a somewhat bigger blaze than he had intended.
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Rory Pinewhistle
 Posted: Jan 18 2015, 09:33
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Group: Hobbits
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Player: Rowy
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Rory very rarely minded his duties as a Bounder during the winter months. He was too young to be overly troubled by the cold or the snow, and camping was simpler and more comfortable because it didn’t rain – hardly ever, anyway, though winter rain took the grand prize for miserable.

The weather that late January evening was fine – brisk and cold, but beautifully clear and clean. The snow wasn’t deep yet, especially out in the woods. Rory’s heart felt light for the most part, not yet troubled much by the rumors and signs of trouble beginning within the Shire. He was being extra watchful, though. For one thing, even in a typical winter wolves sometimes made themselves troublesome along the northern boundary.

The winter hadn’t been long or harsh enough yet for wolves to pose a worry, so Rory had indulged his peculiar (some would say Took-ish, and not necessarily mean it as a compliment!) inclination to have a look around from beyond the border. There was a certain rocky hillock not far out into the woods right near where he was camping that night, a favorite vantage point to look about from a higher and more interesting perspective (including the wide starry sky), so Rory had climbed to the top and taken his time surveying what there was to see.

Had he not, likely he’d never have noticed the campfire, or if he did, he’d have done no more than watch from under the eaves of the Shire to see that whoever built it didn’t come trespassing. Since he happened to be fairly near it, though, his curiosity dragged him closer to see who was there. If it were a few Dwarves traveling to trade or some such, it could be pleasant – and useful – to say hello and have a chat.

The campfire was small while he carefully crept near enough to see who was there, though it gradually grew while he also heard a male voice cursing rather a lot, and by the time he could see the character he suspected the campfire was getting out of hand. However, he also understood the reason for the cursing, spying with keen eyes from the deep shadows as the man worked to bandage a wound.

Now, here was a bit of a dilemma! Rory sympathized with the man being wounded and alone and on foot, apparently, but a lot depended on how the man got that wound. Was he a goodly sort or a ruffian? To find out, Rory would have to say hello, and whether friend or foe, he’d seen enough of the world beyond the Shire (and enough of the Men of Bree-land) to know how dangerous it could be to startle someone who had several weapons near to hand.

Perhaps he ought to leave as quietly as he came, with this Big Folk stranger none the wiser, but again his youthful curiosity won the tug-of-war. Trusting his Hobbit knack for dodging out of sight (or weapon range) in a wink, he waited just until the man finished working on his wound and turned to his campfire, which was between them, before stepping halfway out from behind a stout tree trunk, with his escape route all mapped out in his mind in case he needed to run.

“Good evening, friend.”

This post has been edited by Rory Pinewhistle: Feb 23 2015, 09:26

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Aglanor
 Posted: Jan 26 2015, 21:32
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The thing with the fire was bad enough. It was one of those basic rules when out in the wild to keep those as small as possible and sheltered as to minimize it getting spotted (among other things). Here at the borders of the Shire that rule applied double. The Rangers were supposed to see yet not be seen. In this case, things had been the other way around, which was at the very least embarrassing.

Aglanor was startled anew, and in this his instincts took over at first. His hand moved to where usually his sword hung from his hip, but the only thing within easy reach was the dagger which had been used to cut the linen for the wound dressing. By the time Aglanor finally had his hands on something that could in good conscience be called a weapon, he had realized just who he had been startled by.

No doubt, he had blundered badly, but since there was no way to undo the damage and suddenly disappear into hiding again, he might as well bear it in good grace. There obviously was no immediate danger, and so he made a good show out of relaxing. His sword would have to remain out of reach for the time being.

"Well, good evening. I did not expect to run into anyone out here. From what I hear, most Hobbits prefer to keep to themselves. I am Aglanor." he said, figuring that as the stranger in the Halfling's land it was only proper that he should be the first to introduce himself.
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Rory Pinewhistle
 Posted: Feb 1 2015, 09:30
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“Good meeting you, Aglanor. I am Rory,” he replied politely, with a bit of a bow as was properly civil. He’d seen quite well that Aglanor would have grabbed his sword if he could have reached it, which assured Rory that his wound had robbed him of at least some agility, which made the situation a bit safer. All the same, he stayed where he was on the far side of the growing campfire until he knew whether he wanted to stay for a chat -- and whether Aglanor would welcome such.

“Sorry to startle you, though there seemed no way to avoid it. I don’t blame you for wanting your sword either, until you saw me, though if you’d got hold of it you might have just caught a glimpse of me running away.” He was beginning to smile then, for he was feeling more friendly than anything else, and to his relief this Man didn’t speak rough and rude like the worst of the trespassers he’d encountered over the years.

“Most Hobbits do keep to themselves, if you mean to our own kind and inside the Shire. Very few would approve of me venturing out here, even though I’m a Bounder – one of those who keeps watch over our borders – but then, being a Bounder is plenty oddness enough by many Hobbits’ standards.” He chuckled good-naturedly at that, since as long as no one’s comments got too rude or pointed, he truly didn’t bridle at being called a bit Took-ish.

“Mind if I ask what you’re doing here?” he asked, with a mind toward his responsibility. “Don’t most folk who travel alone prefer to stick to the roads, or near-ish?”

This post has been edited by Rory Pinewhistle: Feb 23 2015, 09:27
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Aglanor
 Posted: Apr 11 2015, 19:37
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Mind if I ask. Aglanor smiled at that. He liked the inborn courtesy of Hobbits, even though it meant that more often than not, some ruffian thought to take advantage of these gentle people. Even though that often lead to the discovery that gentle was not always easy prey, the fact that these attempts were made were sad enough.

The Shire, Aglanor had found out, was something like a last refuge of some degree of innocence, and knowing that he did not at all resent the effort put into the Ranger's invisible net of protection. Some things were worth it.

"We are not most folk, and I am not traveling, strictly speaking." he answered, and smiled somewhat apologetically when a moment later he realized how mysterious that might sound, and how little helpful. The Ranger's activities were not exactly a secret, but they did not usually go around advertising them either. The work from the shadows had proven quite effective.

"You are a Bounder. You travel the Shire to see that nothing is amiss. In a way, I am doing the same, only.."

A sound from the bushes had caught Aglanor's attention, and in the following moment of silence there it was again. One he knew only too well. Dammit, wolves! Wolves again. This time, he went for the sword.

"Get a branch from the fire!"
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Rory Pinewhistle
 Posted: Apr 19 2015, 20:25
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Rory was very attentive, still gauging what sort of fellow this man Aglanor seemed to be, and so felt a bit disconcerted when he spoke in a way that could have seemed annoyed if he hadn’t also been smiling friendly-like. Rory smiled back feeling just as friendly, with his curly blond head cocked a bit to one side, wondering with lively curiosity just who Aglanor meant by “We,” and the rest.

So keenly was he listening as Aglanor began explaining (saving Rory the trouble of asking a lot more questions), that when the Man got distracted by a sound in the bushes, Rory at first didn’t pay attention. He didn’t break the listening silence, though, and by the time that sound happened again he was looking wherever Aglanor looked. Despite his keen Hobbit eyes, he saw nothing amiss, but when the Man suddenly sprang into action and grabbed his sword Rory didn’t feel afraid – not of Aglanor, that was!

“What is it?” he cried, glancing about in alarm while reaching to pull a burning branch from the fire. Finally he caught a glimpse – a wolf! He knew just enough of wolves to know that there was often more than one.

The first thing he wanted then was his hunting bow, which was when he fully realized that he’d left it behind. Drat, how foolish! What did he have? His staff? Hunting knife? He’d rather not get that close! Instead, shifting the burning branch to his off hand, he grabbed a hefty stone to throw.

He wished he could scramble up a tree until he knew how many wolves there were. That’s what he’d do in the Shire, and then if the wolves seemed more than he could handle alone, he’d blow his horn to summon help. Out here, though, he wasn’t sure whether the nearest farms would even hear his horn.

And Aglanor was injured, so even though they’d just met, he wasn’t going to be a coward and leave this Man on the ground alone.

“How many are there?” he asked, trying to sound brave, and unsure whether he should stand beside or behind Aglanor.

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