New Companions

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New Companions 24 14 11 1.0
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New Companions 2 2 1 4.0
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Starlock 142

Starlock has a newer deck inspired by this one: New Companions

Call me Starlock. Most do. I am a man of no great import or skill, and I cannot say why the king of the silvan elves named me as his emissary. I travel with others, a Dúnedain, an elf, and a dwarf. They are well-trained and knowledgeable, and I will rely on them to see me through the difficult paths to come. I cannot say how much I will write in this journal, but it is my good hope to chronicle my adventures through this middle earth. Should I fall to the shadow before the end, perhaps someone else will take heart from these missives and set himself a task worthy of song.

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Aug 29, 2021 Starlock 142

The Hunt for Gollum

Days in Lorien I spent recovering from my encounter with Dol Guldur’s Nazgûl. The Lady worked a spell that lessened the growing shadow that lay upon my heart. I do not know if it was enough, but I feel well, or at least better than I once did. What terror these creatures bring to middle earth. It is my great hope that I never again encounter a Ringwraith while adventuring through this world. I talked with Gimli today. He is gruff and perhaps more than a bit uncouth, but he is a true friend. He told me of the kingdom his people call Khazad-dûm. I have promised to accompany him to that place once I have recovered and time permits. But, alas, my visit to those dwarven halls will not be anytime soon. Gandalf appeared in Lorien and asked that my companions and I once again travel to the Anduin Vale. He said a creature named Gollum dwells there, a creature that is short and gangly by all accounts but fierce in its way. I know not the why of it, but Gandalf claimed that knowledge of Gollum’s whereabouts is of the highest importance and that we must search for his presence wherever his trail leads. I do not look forward to this journey, for, in truth, I am still humbled by my previous encounter. Our first day of travel was uneventful. We made straight for the Anduin River. The same place, in fact, that we once battled a hill-troll that had come down from the Ettenmoors. Well, there was no hill-troll this time, but disaster struck all the same. The river, perhaps by some unknown sorcery, flowed over the banks and covered any and all tracks we might have hoped to find. And, as if that were not enough, a deep and low fog pushed down from the vale and obscured our vision. In our blindness, we heard the cackles and calls of a roving band of orcs. Through the mists, they attacked. Gimli and Legolas were quick to the fight, and soon the orcs were dispatched. Among the bodies, we found what we sought—a sign of Gollum. Strider was like a hound to the scent. We tracked the beast through the woods of the Anduin Vale. Perhaps Gollum was unaware of our pursuit or oblivious to his own trail, but he left a string of rotting and half-eaten carcasses in his wake. Three days after we fought the orcs, we came across a woodman, Thornir by name, that spun a tale of some new ghoul in the forest, drinking the blood of animals. I assured the woodman there was no such beast and that his ghoul was only a skeletal creature going by the name of Gollum. Thornir had none of it. We continued our pursuit, traveling north. Our passage did not go unnoticed. Gimli and Legolas kept count of the orcs they killed, a rather grim accounting. Strider smiled at this friendly competition but did not join in the banter. For my part, I slew some four or five orcs, though I did not rejoice in it. War is a bloody business, and I only wish we lived in times untroubled. We traveled long searching for that creature Gollum: along the East bank of the Anduin River, over the Old Ford, beneath the eaves of Mirkwood, and finally through the marshes of the Gladden Fields. At times, it felt as if we were drawing closer to the beast and that we might stumble across him at any moment. At other times, I would swear Gollum was leading us in circles, gleefully delighting in our plight. I am ashamed to say it, but we eventually gave up, our rations at an end. We returned to Lorien and Gandalf empty-handed. The old man was stoical upon hearing our news and only asked that we try again soon, for Gollum carried with him the news of an urgent and pressing matter, news that the armies of the West must gain. I asked him what was so important that a stunted and gaunt creature like Gollum might possess it, but he only stared at me beneath a white cluster of bushy eyebrows. Finally, he spoke, but not to me. He whispered something to Strider in what I think was the elven tongue. I sighed and walked away, fearing the anger of that old man.

Aug 29, 2021 Starlock 142

Conflict at the Carrock

Trolls! How I hate them. This morning, word came from Lorien scouts that a group of four trolls had ambled down the Ettenmoors and onto the Carrock. Why we were tasked with dislodging them, I do not know. It is as if Lorien contains no warriors willing to travel outside their hollowed forest. Well, whatever the reason, the task was given to us. Our first thought was to journey to Grimbeorn the Old’s house and see if he might be willing to help us, but we discovered that he had already gone in search of the trolls. It is said that Grimbeorn can transform into the likeness of a bear. I do not think that true. Most likely, the story is spun from the fact that he fights like a bear, and I do not think one man—no matter how good of a fighter he might be—can fight four trolls at once. So Strider, Gimli, Legolas, and I set off, following Grimbeorn’s tracks, lest he should fight the creatures by himself. We soon found ourselves in what men call the East Blight, a desolate landscape filled with terrible beasts. Legolas, though agile in his way, twisted an ankle trekking through that mire. For the time being, he was of little help to us. The East Blight soon turned into the Brown Lands, a wasteland of open space. When our spirits were at their lowest, however, we found Grimbeorn the Old, a man so large it is no wonder men think him a bear. From there, we traveled to the Carrock, prepared to drive the trolls off, for all signs pointed to the trolls harassing the few folk who lived in that place. Trolls, no matter what some might say, are not dumb beasts. They saw us coming—despite Strider’s best effort to keep us hidden—and prepared an ambush. First, two trolls confronted us on the upward slope, leaping from high atop the nearby boulders with clubs in hand. Grimbeorn felled one with Gimli’s help, but the other—to our surprise—was nimble in his own way and dodged the attacks of Strider and myself. The other two beasts snuck up behind us and attacked from the rear. It was a hard-fought battle, and not a one of us escaped without ample scars to prove it. In the end, we did not defeat the trolls but rather drove them from that place. While I hope they do not return, I have little faith in our ability to scare them off for good. After the fight, my companions and Grimbeorn lit a small fire and talked into the late hours of the night. Grimbeorn recounted the years of his people and, though I did not see the truth of it for myself, he swore that each and every one of them could turn into a bear when the need was upon them. I still doubt it, for it seemed more like the boasting of an old, gray-haired man who sings of deeds accomplished long ago. As the sun rose, not far from where we rested, we discovered an eagle grievously wounded. We all remembered the help the eagles had provided the alliance of men, elves, and dwarves at the Battle of the Five Armies and so set out for Rhosgobel at once. It was there, so Strider claimed, that a man named Radagast lived, a man well-schooled in the arts of animal healing. So to honor the valor of the eagles, we began the long journey to Rhosgobel, hoping against hope that we might save the creature. Grimbeorn, for his part, did not join us. He said he had other matters to attend to. As I write this, I sit next to the eagle. He is hardly breathing and has a gaping wound on his chest. Perchance, come tomorrow’s dawn, we can find salvation for this poor, suffering animal.

Aug 30, 2021 Starlock 142

Journey to Rhosgobel

Wilyador the eagle is getting worse by the day. We must arrive at Rhosgobel, the haven of Radagast the Brown. It is said that wizard has the power to heal such a regal creature, and it is my great hope that he does. We first traveled through the Black Forest where bats attacked us from overhead. They dove and swiped at Wilyador, but Legolas, with his sharp eye and even sharper arrows, was able to drive them off. After three days and two nights, we arrived at Rhosgobel. A bent and stooped man with a long, gray beard met us outside his small cottage. Radagast looked anything but formidable, but he quickly assessed Wilyador and demanded that we once again travel into the wild to find the healing plant Athelas. I did not know the plant, but Strider said that he did, and so we left in search of it. Deep in Mirkwood, we walked until we arrived at the strange mountains of that place. There, a flock of ravens clawed at us, but once again Legolas came to our aid. Amidst the fallen birds, Strider bent and plucked a green plant from the earth. Athelas, he said, and turned to leave. But to our dismay, a giant spider leaped upon the Dúnedain’s back. He cried out, but Gimli clove the beast in two with his wide axe. By the time we returned to Rhosgobel, night had descended upon middle earth. In his home, Radagast sat by a low burning fire. He shook his head as we entered and then held his hands up for all to see. They were covered in blood. Wilyador, the wizard said, succumbed to his wounds while we searched in vain for Athelas. Strider, frustrated, shouted in despair. We had tried our best to save Wilyador, a truly noble creature, but failed. If there is a lesson in this tragedy, it is this: the death of beauty must be challenged even when failure is certain.