[TATW AAR] Home to Midgard - Completed

[Radzeer]

Another brilliant update!
I loved the AC/DC reference... and the bugs...

[acinorev]

Haha! Your pictures of the wizard and Halvdan turning into a squirrel was great.

But the part I like best with this update is this one:

-I hid those bugs inside his wand, which wasn’t very hard since it’s so murky and old, and so he used a wand with many bugs and of course suffered a “crash to desktop” as you can see.

[Scottish King]

Another excellent and funny update!

[Maltacus]

It seems like bugs are the most popular recently. When taking into account that it comes from people who have played vanilla M2TW, it is no surprise though. Anyone with that sort of experience must be very used to bugs...

@Radzeer, acinorev and Scottish King
Your consistent encouragement would be of priceless value, if that was not a contradiction in terms

Next update:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The journey south in search of hobbits is finally progressing. Voff, voff!

[Maltacus]

______________________________________Part 15. Howls and Hunters_________________________________

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The fairies held a great council in their newly built council chambers. It was a very well ordered council since Council Chambers decrease squalor as everyone knows. Runar and Halvdan were there too, but had a hard time following the chattering of the fairies. They spoke very fast in high pitched voices when talking among themselves. One fairy, Felanor, eventually put forth the first sensible suggestion. If one wizard had caused the polymorphing, another could perhaps undo it. There weren’t that many wizards in Middle Earth, at least not many known and famous ones. Sauron and the Witch King were more or less out of the question. Saruman was a possibility but he was said to be too busy plotting for world domination to care for anything else, and not very helpful either. Radagast was said to be nicer but notoriously hard to find.

Perhaps Gandalf the Grey? He often dwelled in the Shire, being fond of the hobbits and their pipe weed in particular, or so it was said. But that was probably just evil slander. A professional and serious wizard, an Istari with divine powers, would not be stupid enough to start smoking, would he?

Finilia and Finella volunteered to accompany the dwarf and dwarf-squirrel out of gratitude for their valiant assistance. They also thought Halvdan looked rather cute as a squirrel but they didn’t say that. Everyone gathered supplies for the journey and Halvdan took special care to add a hitherto unknown variety to the dwarf’s provisions. Squirrels are after all good at gathering supplies and storing them for the winter.

Runar decided that they needed a guide to get past the useless hobbit infrastructure. He swept through the taverns of the random towns in pursuit of guides but none appeared. In the end all he had was a lead to one potential way of getting south in reasonable time. One hunter in the woods, a female elf of considerable infamy, was keeping and capturing wolves. She turned them into wargs, the demonic beings ridden by the orcs. She was known by her cape and hood which were bright red, and therefore called the “Little Red Riding Hood”. Perhaps those wolves/wargs could be of assistance when travelling through the unexplored wilderness.

This proposition met considerable opposition from Halvdans side. Being a rodent of small stature, he was, to say the least, less optimistic about getting anywhere near such tooth-filled and hungry creatures as wolves. Runar did in the end manage to persuade him, assuring that he would guard the backpack where Halvdan could rest, with his life. Finella and Finilia also promised to keep watch during the night.

The adventuring party started their journey by visiting Arundel, the great druid of Kuldahar. He lived in a cosy cottage under some roots, like everyone else in the village.

Runar asked him if he had any advice regarding how to communicate with the wolves/wargs that they sought to recruit. Arundel was delighted


-YES! Pleeease take this ring and take it away! I can’t stand this anymore! Aaargh!
-A ring? Magical, presumably?
-Of course. A fine piece of work I might add.
-Ringbearers rarely part willingly with their rings. What kind of ring is this and what does it do?
-It is a ring of charming animals. It raises the charisma of the wearer to 20 in the eyes of any beast.
-Is that high?
-Yes! Normally one can only reach 18. Doesn’t everyone know this?
-Evidently not.
-Further, the wearer can be understood by animals even when talking in his own language.
-That might be what we are looking for. Why do you want to part with such a handy ring? It sounds like the perfect trinket for a druid.
-Perhaps, but the thing is, the local animals have gotten a bit too used to its effects. Every bird is sitting next to my window listening to conversations when I have invited guests. Then they use their information to locate all my bread and cookies! And the dogs and cats here are even worse: I persuaded the earth to create a modest waterfall in my bathroom (I hate bathtubs) to wash myself in the shower of water instead. And I have the habit of making up songs when showering…what are you smiling at? I am sure everyone does that!
-Of course.
-Anyway, those dogs use to sit next to my window listening and when I get out they roll on the ground laughing at me! Some even sneak inside my cottage just to be able to roll on the floor laughing. Apparently it is special to roll on the floor laughing instead of the ground. Why, I don’t know. So please, take the ring and be gone with it. It will allow you to befriend any wolf I think, the trouble will be getting rid of them.
-Thanks very much Arundel, and good luck with your, ahem, musical performance.

____________________________________________________________________

The fabled Little Red Riding Hood lived in a cottage in the deep woods further south into Eriador. The path to her cottage was littered with skeletons, traps and broken crossbows hanging from the trees. The party approached with the archetypical bad feeling about this.

The cottage itself was something to behold. The whole house appeared to be made of gingerbread! It was obviously just a trick played by the light and the dark brown walls but the effect was still remarkable. Runar went to the door and rang the bell.

A dull waiter opened the door.

-Have you booked, sir?
-uh…What?!
-Your table, sir. Have you booked?
-We are looking for the little red riding hood. I assumed she lived here, but evidently I was wrong. Is this some kind of restaurant?
-Of course. This is “The Prancing Witch”, formerly “The Prancing Stepmother”. But we had to change the name since some stupid apple merchants up north started smear campaigns against each other and their stepmothers.
-I may have heard of that…Anyways, could you tell me where to find the little red riding hood?
-Sigh, never any customers these days…She lives fifty metres behind the restaurant near the kennels.
-Thank you, sir.
-Hans, what is that? a voice sounded from inside. A woman dressed as a chef stepped out.
-Don’t get excited, they’re not customers, Gretel, said the waiter.
-Blast, I never get the chance to show my special recipe of roasted witch.
-As much as I would love to try out that dish, we really must be going, said Runar and rapidly excused himself.

_____________________________________________________________________________

The house of Little Red Riding Hood was a low, timbered cottage with large fences covering vast grounds behind it. It was red with white corners and white windows. The garden was well tended but had a large headstone as its most prominent landmark. On the grey surface the word “Grandmother” was carved and a basket filled with what looked like fresh food was put in front of it where flowers are often put in other cultures that raise stones to commemorate the dead.

Runar rang the bell a second time. This time he knew he was right. The woman that opened was clearly the Little Red Riding Hood, except that she was rather tall, especially from a dwarfs perspective. She held a fierce wolf in a chain in one hand. She was dressed in a red cape and looked both “Red Blooded” and like a “Scarlet Woman”. There could be no doubt about it.

-Good day, miss Red Riding Hood, said Runar.
-Who might you be, who dare venture into my domain?
-I am Runar the dwarf. I come bearing word for you. An alliance would strengthen both our peoples...oh, sorry, sometimes I let my diplomacy get away with me. I would like to discuss the subject of wolves with you.
-Ah, a fellow hunter!
-Not exactly. I am a simple traveller, nothing near a famous hunter.
-What can you want from me then? Let us go inside so you can explain.

They went inside and Runar tried to approach the subject carefully. He was after all a diplomat and it is a virtue to be discreet when dealing with foreign powers. He started by asking about how she came to be a hunter and live in the desolate woods. Little Red Riding Hood was happy to tell, and seemed quite happy to have a visitor. Perhaps a little too happy... She never took her eyes off Runar but watched him hungrily with burning eyes (“Scarlet Woman”) and reminded quite a bit of Snow White. Runar wondered for a moment why they always had to run into such worrying, voluptuous and commanding women on this side of the Misty Mountains. It was a bit troublesome sometimes. Even an experienced diplomat likes to reason with a reasonable and sensible person sometimes.

Little Red Riding Hood had lived near her grandmother until the latter had been eaten by a wolf which had ambushed her in a most cowardly way, hiding himself in grandma’s bed! Otherwise the wolf would have stood little chance, Little Red Riding Hood could tell. She had visited her grandmother with a basket of food and found her eaten and the wolf disguising in her night robe.

Uttering an improvised battle cry (“you have big teeth, grandma!”) she slew the wolf but was not satisfied. She would haunt that wretched pack forever! The trouble is; even elves don’t always live forever. So she decided to try and capture all the wolves in the world and turn them into her obedient servants, leaving a legacy of eternally dominated wolves to the world, preferably conquering it for her. Little Red Riding Hood spoke with a conviction and passion bordering outright bloodlust (“Red Blooded”) as she and Runar approached her kennels. A pack of wolves rested on the ground. They didn’t look like wargs though. Perhaps domesticated enough to be considered dogs, but only barely. Little Red Riding Hood spoke with pride and charisma worthy of a great wizard:

-Do you know how the wargs were made? They were wolves once. Taken by the dark powers (menaing humans). Corrupted and domesticated. A pathetic and humiliated form of life! And now...perfected! My howling Canis-Hai! Whom do you serve?

The dogs yawned and didn’t display anything near zealous servitude or ecstatic enthusiasm.

-Dammit, you’re supposed to howl “Little Red Riding Hood” when I say that!
-Perhaps they do not deserve your fine leadership, asked Runar.
-What do you mean?
-These subjects are evidently disloyal and rebellious. Why don’t you let me take, say, four of them to serve me on the road south and you can take some gold to cover the expenses of losing them.
-What, do I look like a dog merchant to you? I am Little Red Riding Hood, the feared huntress and scourge of the woods!
-One thing does not outrule the other. Also, keep in mind that if you let me travel to foreign lands with your dogs, your reputation will spread and grow as more people see what scary beasts you have caught!
-Hmmm, that’s certainly food for thought...Let us chit-chat in the meantime, while I consider the proposal.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Runar: Fooling people is really easy in this story. You just exploit their vanity or lust for power and everything goes your way. Could it have something to do with lack of imagination from the author’s side?
Maltacus: Shut up and stick to the manuscript! This IS after all a fairy tale, furthermore: we are in the hobbit part of the story where everything is infected and affected with their silliness. Also, I would like to remind you of how “easy” it was to persuade the Goblin King a few chapters back.
Runar: Allright, allright, o omnipresent authority figure!
Maltacus: Now hurry inside and have tea with Little Red Riding Hood. I was going to make her have a keg of beer stored for the occasion, but for your insolence you will have to drink tea instead.

The dwarf and the human spent a frustratingly long time chit-chatting, discussing the neighbouring restaurant among other things.

-...you can’t be serious, said Runar.
-Oh yes, they did. They thought the idea of a roasted witch would fit perfectly.
-Let me get this straight, in a a manner that will make the readers of the AAR understand what you have just described to me: These two brothers visited the restaurant and, while dining on Gretels main dish, decided to create a children’s story about a girl and a boy named Gretel and Hans who get lost in the woods, captured by a witch who intend to murder them by roasting them alive and eat them once they have fattened enough. Those children then escape in a very sudden manner by pushing the witch into her own oven where she is burned alive, an ending most painful and agonising. Then they return to their parents, whose fault it was that they get sent to the wood in the first place and lost themselves?
-Yes, but it is only the stepmothers fault. The father is somehow blameless and just a mindless tool used by the stepmother. Their real mother is dead.
-Of course. How could I forget? Always the evil stepmother...And this is their idea of a childrens story???
-Well, they aren’t called “the Grim Brothers” for nothing.
-Grim tales indeed. I wonder what their idea of a story for adults would look like...

Their babbling continued until Little Red Riding Hood finally announced that she had decided:

-I am happy to announce that I have decided.
.......
-Yes?
-Oh, uhm...I have decided that you shall indeed be allowed to have four of my lazy dogs. How you handle them is your problem, of course... Just get those insubordinate knaves out of my sight!

So Runar went to the kennels and started negotiating. He was after all an experienced diplomat and had soon patched together a reasonably reasonable agreement:

-Do we have a deal? I supply the food and shelter if necessary while you pull my sled during the journey?
-Vaff vaff!
-I hope that means yes...And you will NOT eat the squirrel or the green mini-elves with wings?

The dogs seemed to laugh and looked like diplomats with the trait “Impossible to read”.

-That will have to do, said Runar. We set up the sled once it has started to snow. Should be any week now.

The journey had finally begun! After a chapter and a half of confused wandering and strolling into absurd things the company had been able to bypass the hobbit infrastructure defence.

Runars dogs simply ran south on the snow, ignoring the irrational turns and hindering shrubberies that lay beneath. The speed was impressive, although a mostly unarmoured dwarf with luggage doesn’t weigh that much. Neither are squirrels especially cumbersome. Finella and Finilia had great fun riding on the four dogs during the travel, dressed in the most fashionable fairy coats. They were green, if anyone had doubted that... The two rascals had borrowed a pair of old socks from Runar to use as sleeping bags, causing him considerable confusion. It is always confusing when socks disappear. You can always find one of them, but the other seems hopelessly lost. From that perspective one could argue that it was rather considerate of the fairies to actually borrow a pair and not two odd socks, but on discovering the culprits Runar even insisted that they should consult him before, and not after, commandeering any more dwarf supplies.

Even Halvdan started to relax in the company of the dogs. The trip had started outrageously for his part when all four of the dogs decided to play a game of squirrel tossing. They lifted him up between their jaws and threw him to the next around and around in a circle. They did not bite him at all and Halvdan emerged quite all right but a bit dizzy and not too pleased with the choice of recreational activity. Runar tried to firmly explain that nobody tosses a dwarf, but having to start with explaining that Halvdan was in fact a transformed dwarf always seemed to make the wolves take him less seriously. At least they never showed any inclination of wanting to eat him; preferring the various wildlife that Runar shot for them with his crossbow. In fact, the dogs kept the rest of the travellers warm during the night when they rolled themselves around them in Runars luxury snow caves, so Halvdan quickly forgave their very bad taste of tossing games. At least for the time being.

[Scottish King]

Good to see u back! Great update! + rep

[Radzeer]

^ I agree! I really like your pop culture references. Apple merchants...
Great stuff!

[Darkan]

Hilariously entertaining...and historically accurate...+ rep for you

voice of sanity: -are you serious?
me: -yes!
*comes back with a stick*

[Maltacus]

Nice to hear from you again, Darkan. Apologies for the long delay - especially to Scottish King and Radzeer. I have started school (or university courses to be precise) again and it takes up some time. I have also been busy modding to prepare for a coming AAR, perhaps coming even this century... Anyway, here is the next update which takes up a remarkably evenly numbered post...

___________________________Part 16. The Wandering Mind of the Grey Wanderer_________________________

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Authors note: This was written in the 444:th post of mine on the forum, deliberatly kept for this episode.

They were coming down from the vast highlands where the wind and other annoying weather roamed free. In the more com4table shire and surrounding regions, long snowy winters were a rarity and the snow was already scarce. One day Runar suddenly gazed upon an unlikely and strange obstacle.

-Oh, look! A...wall, in the middle of nowhere.

A lazy team of workers held a rude and noisy meeting nearby, thus the passage through the large unfinished gap in the wall was guarded by a mere captain. Runar thought it would be wise to ask about the way. If more (and more finished) obstacles of this stature appeared, the average traveller would have to bring a battering ram with him.

- Good day, captain of the wall.
- What! Huh? Oh, good day, random traveller.
- I wonder if you could tell me about the closest path towards the Shire, and if there are any more of these walls on the way?
- Well, that depends. Maybe.
- Maybe? I wish to go to Bree or Hobbiton, whichever is the closest town. Do you know how to get there or not?
- It depends. If I, hypothetically, would have certain pieces of in4mation; would you, hypothetically, have certain pieces of, say, rewards?
- I can share my knowledge of maps if you want to know more about the places I have travelled through.

- Oh, perhaps not such abstract compensation, but something a little more substantial.
- Such as?
- Well, if you would donate a minor monetary contribution to the border guards in this sector – as a matter of fact supervised by me – and perhaps compensate the local authorities – as another matter of fact supervised by me – 4 the trouble of guiding by serving 4 a limited time in the local militia as an allied unit – as a matter of fact...

-...you command the little military 4ce here too. No, THANK YOU, my good sir. I have no wish to spend the dwarven taxminers money on such folly.
- “sigh”. It was worth a try though...

After having seen his embezzling attempts turn into embarrassing attempts, captain Beleg straightened up and became a reasonably straight4ward guide to the Shire and surrounding regions. He also told about the wall he was supervising.

-...are you serious, asked Runar.
-Yes, of course. The entire point of building this wall is to hold out those bandits. We have been plagued by raiders of the north 4 many years. Both goblins and men. 4 ages, we have tried local militias and palissaded towns and some 4ts and castles on strategic locations, but now our leadership has finally come their senses. The ideal defence against a raiding nomadic army from vast steppes to the north is of course one long wall, across the whole country. We have hired the 4most experts on such defence, the famous instructors Hi Shuangdei and Adrihanus. They have both walled off barbaric peoples in their homelands, both infantry raiders and nomad horse archers.
-And they have been successful?
-Of course, otherwise they wouldn’t be here spreading the idea, would they?
-Ehm, what if the enemy brings battering rams or something to a point in the palisade? Won’t it be hard to defend the whole wall?
-Ha! They will never do that! They are barbaric raiders, they will just see our great wall and tire and go home. They have no patience.
-Ehrm...good luck then. But I would personally rather trust in a mobile professional 4ce with lots of archers.
-No, no, no, those things are completely obsolete. Long, stationary walls, that’s the recipe 4 success.

So Runar proceeded from the presumably adequate border defences and into the Shire. His first stop would be the peaceful town of Bree. It was a known favourite of Gandalf, at least if one were to believe the owner of the Prancing Pony, the local inn. It was owned and run by Brandiman Butterbur and his son Barliman. Brandiman’s wife Vinia ran the stables where un4tunate travellers could spend 4tunes on rickety quarters 4 their ponys.

When passing through the landscape the travellers noted a strange social development of the Hobbit society. The peace-loving inhabitants of the Shire were turning into militaristic total war fanatics! The town of Bree had become a centre of a newly 4med militia (4 lack of a better word) of sorts. It was all thanks to some sort of royal ape, or maybe it was some kind of disgruntled goat. They had 4ced both hobbits and men to flock to their banners, which was quite a feat in itself since the banners were notably absent. Being a faction without any real 4m of government has its drawbacks when it comes to national heraldry...

The valiant members of the militia in Eriador struggled bravely against the tactless jokes and rude comments by their colleagues of other factions. It was as if they could not take the idea of the Breeland militia seriously. They always looked upon the shields and coats of the peasant soldiers and then roared with laughter. Something about the flowers of the shields seemed to turn the most serious enemy into a complete fool. And the hobbitry-in-arms could naturally never be taken seriously.

Despite grim sight of marching hippies...militia... the roads were not blocked by any sort of official with the bad habit of sticking his nose into other people’s private affairs, as is usually the case in countries with a sudden increase of armed 4ces. As the spring progressed, so did the journey and soon one bright morning Bree and The Prancing Pony was in sight.

Runar opened the door of the inn and jumped back immediately. The doorway was filled with smoke! The inn was on fire! Why had nobody sounded the alarm? Just as he was about to shout a warning to the rest of the town Finella stopped him. She had noticed the smell of the smoke. It was the smoke from the pipeweed of the hobbits, called tobacco by outlanders.

-Okay, everyone hide in the backpack and keep it shut. I’ll try to keep it as brief as possible inside, said Runar and braced himself 4 the stinking smog.

He took a deep breath and stepped inside. It was hard to make out the features of the room and guests in the mist but soon he could spot a desk and a busy bartender hurrying around and never having time 4 anything.

-Cough! Hell-cough-o, I wonder if...
-Just a minute!
-Better be a short minute...Cough!
-Ah, yes, what can I do 4 you? Welcome to The Pr-cough-ancing Pony by the way!
-I wonder if Gandalf the Grey has been here lately. Would you know that? Cough!
-Of course! Come over here!
-What? No, I just need the answer, thank you.
-No, you misunderstand me; Gandalf is in fact here in person. Come along.

B4 Runar had even the slightest chance of contemplating this streak of unlikely luck, Brandiman had led him through the smog and up some stairs. They went along a corridor with several rooms and reached the quieter west end of the inn. Barliman knocked politely on a tall door.

-Who is it? a voice sounded from inside.
-Brandiman, with a visitor.

The door was opened and out stepped the legendary wizard himself. Gandalf the Grey, the epitome of heroic and upright leader figures! Except 4 that less known spying mission in Dol Guldur. And the somewhat infamous expedition to steal the loot of the dragon Smaug. Not to mention the dubious interest in fireworks and all kinds of pyrotechnics (and that is the one that the elf Cirdan choose to entrust the ring of fire to...) and the habit of inviting himself into the homes of both peaceful hobbits like Bilbo and busy kings of both Rohan and Gondor. But apart from that, he was most upright and admirable in all ways.

After a long (4 Runar) and smoky (4 Gandalf) explanation the wizard quickly got to his feet. He grabbed his walking stick which he didn’t need and was on his way out of the room in no time.

-Wait a second, where are you going, asked Runar.
-Huh? Oh, sorry, we are going on a little picnic to a nearby lake. It’s really nice and quiet.
-What about Halvdan?
-That is one of the main reasons why we are going to the lake.
-I know that old wizards are known to be a bit eccentric but this is getting silly..., muttered Runar.

The lake was a typical picnic lake with boring and park-like ground next to it (despite being labelled “wilderness” on larger maps). It was the kind of place where boring old hobbits gathered to stuff themselves full with food while the young hobbits tried in vain to make them come out of their portable chairs and play with them.

Gandalf raised his staff and began to utter complicated and melodramatic spells in 4eign languages. It was a tense moment. Nothing happened. Then the wizard seemed to think 4 himself 4 a while. Eventually Runar asked how things were going.

-What? Hum, ah...oh, yes. I just let my mind wander. Ehrrm...Yes, the rodent thing. Let’s see...
-He’s really absent-minded sometimes 4 being a wizard. I wonder how old Gandalf really is.
-Here it is. Singudwarvis Porcus!

-What have you done Gandalf!
-Oh dear! It appears I have turned Halvdan into a boar instead. I can’t imagine what went wrong. I learned this spell from a very friendly witch named Circe, who wanted me very much to use it on some ships crew led by this guy Odysseus. But I never got the time to try it out.
-Find another spell at once!

-Yes of course, let me see... Gorus Hircus Circus!

-No, wait, this is it! I promise! Auleingas Khazadus!

-At last! said Halvdan.

-You’re back! said Runar.
-Your grasp of the obvious never ceases to amaze me. I was...Ueeurk! What smell! Excuse me 4 two moments!

Halvdan had spotted the lake nearby. He quickly jumped into it like a bearded cannonball. Gandalf explained the reason 4 the foul stench. The spell that turned Halvdan into a squirrel had apparently affected his clothes which became the squirrel’s fur. Consequently, now that Halvdan was a dwarf again he (and the neighbourhood) experienced effects comparable to not changing clothes 4 the whole time since the battle with the fairy-kidnapping wizard. The water of the lake had already become a bit murky around Halvdan.

As soon as he had gotten up and changed into less repulsive armour Halvdan went to have a chat with the dogs. The latter could not believe their eyes. They looked from Halvdan to Runar and Gandalf and back again.

-I did actually tell you about this, said Runar.
-Vaff, sniff. Voff voff? said the dogs to each other. They looked astonished.

Halvdan ended the discussion by ensuring all dogs that he was really a dwarf, by tossing them all in the air. But he always caught them when falling down so he wasn’t really angry about the dwarf-tossing anymore. Nobody tosses a dwarf!!!

After the recreational activities they gathered around Gandalf and expected words of great depth and wisdom. They were at first disappointed. The wizard went on and on about the mead quality in different taverns he had visited and the lack of pipeweed in Isengard where his colleague Saruman dwelt. Then he bragged about all the difficult and awe-inspiring adventures he had experienced together with the rangers of the north. Finally Halvdan got tired of it and asked the wizard if he knew something about Midgard.

-Midgard? No, but the name sounds a little familiar. There is a book somewhere that I come to think of.
-Which contain in4mation about Midgard?
-Not necessarily. I just came to think of it, but I don’t know why. It could have been because there was an advertisement about new wizard robes, or maybe some stuff about the latest tours west to Valinor. Though it could have been because there was something about Midgard in it. But most likely I came to think of it because it contains a chapter about numerological mythology.
-What is that, asked Runar.
-Well, it is a most obscure school of mythology, or maybe astrology. Its supporters believe that the world as we know it progresses in large chunks of time, like the episodes in some saga. These “episodes” are made up of days and years and thus invisible to us, but presumably an episode will have some sort of impact on the time it covers. Their latest theory is that we now live in the “444:th” episode of some unknown powers musings or creations or whatever. This unknown power has there4e caused the number “4” to appear in daily speech and here and there in the written texts in Middle Earth instead of the letters “for” or “four”.
-How silly!
-Indeed. I do of course not believe such nonsense, I mean; if such an unknown power would exist it would surely have more important things to do and be much more sensible than wasting its time on such lewd and annoying humour. Nevertheless it would be fun to have a look at that book. This actually leads me to another issue. I would, sort of, require your help I think.
-We’re all ears, said Runar.
-Personally I have some eyes and a beard and nose and body and so as well, said Halvdan. But I don’t know about you...
-Evidently you still have the same annoying mouth as well! It’s just an expression, you rogue!
-If I can be allowed to explain b4 you too amaze me more with the legendary dwarven cooperation, friendship and politeness: I take it that you, being dwarfs from Erebor, are very familiar with the hobbit known as Bilbo Baggins?
-Of course. He is still a real celebrity back home. We dwarfs do actually have long memories. We have been thinking of visiting him while we’re in the Shire.
-Good! I could use your help.
-Help? With what?
-Bilbo himself.
-What do you mean? I have always thought him to be a nice guy (a bit unreliable and not to be entrusted with royal diamonds or other jewels but other than that quite nice).
-He was. But I fear things have gotten worse.
-How much worse?
-Very, very much worse...

[acinorev]

I really liked this update. There are especially some parts in the episode that are just great:

-No, no, no, those things are completely obsolete. Long, stationary walls, that’s the recipe 4 success.

The great wall of China was of course a great success ...

The door was opened and out stepped the legendary wizard himself. Gandalf the Grey, the epitome of heroic and upright leader figures! Except 4 that less known spying mission in Dol Guldur. And the somewhat infamous expedition to steal the loot of the dragon Smaug. Not to mention the dubious interest in fireworks and all kinds of pyrotechnics (and that is the one that the elf Cirdan choose to entrust the ring of fire to...) and the habit of inviting himself into the homes of both peaceful hobbits like Bilbo and busy kings of both Rohan and Gondor. But apart from that, he was most upright and admirable in all ways.

Thanks for making me laugh!

[Radzeer]

4midable chapter!

The heroes are now really far from Erebor, but are they any closer to Midgard? Great stuff!

[Maltacus]

The heroes are now really far from Erebor, but are they any closer to Midgard?

Doesn't look like that at the moment. Then, it's hard to tell since nobody knows where in Middle Earth (if anywhere) Midgard or the path to it is located. Luckily, the dwarfs have come out of the endless wilderness of the northern part of the map and may run into new factions and their libraries faster.

Spoiler for next upda... Can't think of anything actually. The ending of last chapter is spoiler enough.

EDIT: I guess I could mention that a chapter about the events in the east is coming the next update or the update after that.

[Maltacus]

_______________________Part 16½. The Battle of Kugavod_______________________

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Journal of Balin

We have caught up with Tryin and his army. It is unbelievable. The incompetence of the inexplicably ignorant idiot has mounted to mountainous proportions! Can you, journal, believe that he not only positioned himself in the middle of the open - at the only known crossing of this river - but also spent the last months shouting taunting and insulting speeches towards Rhun. Talk about provoking attacks! And the fool only had three companies with him. Has Tryins trying shifted from trying our patience to trying to get all of his army slain? Luckily, I am here to set things right. Or at least as right as possible, since I am forbidden to kill Tryin and rid us all of his stupidity. I shall have to be extra careful with that last thing since the captain Boffrur has set up a meeting tonight to brief everyone about his latest findings. I wonder what he has uncovered.


Journal of Thrain the Terrific

Today’s meeting was interesting, I must say. Had it not been for the presence of Balin it would have been a great evening worthy of a long headache the next morning. He is still the greatest mead-brain in the whole realm. That the knave had the guts to criticize ME, the great Thrain, in front of the council! Something about that I would have somehow provoked the Easterlings to send a massive army that is currently encamped just west of the bridge here and directly to our southeast. Laughable! They would have been here months ago had it not been for their fear when they noticed it was Thrain in person who commanded the dwarf bridge guard force!

Journal of Boffrur

Aaargh! The effort it takes not to strangle our commanders is sometimes staggering. Must...maintain...control. Must...maintain...control. I better keep writing to keep my mind focused on something else. So therefore I write in my journal which deals exclusively with today’s events such as the meeting with said commanders... Who came up with this plot for the AAR? Anyway, I have finally completed the investigations of the mysterious Liquid RC. It is being manufactured or refined in, or at least originating from, Kugavod. There is a mysterious cult of archer monks inside. We suspect that they are the driving force behind the distribution of the Liquid RC. Together with them there is a random collection of the common rebel scum consisting of militia that fights to defend their free home town. Ehrm...they are probably scummy in some way anyway.

After constructing some battering rams, namely three, we have gone to sleep and will attack the next day. But I have other things in mind. Now, journal, let us (or maybe just me) see what are the true effects of this liquid. Being the head of investigations and scouting has its uses sometimes after all. I have a sizeable collection of the bottles inside my tent for “further studies”.


Journal of Thrain the Terrific

This is shocking! Unbelievable! Outrageous! Boffrur, the rotund sheep-warring git to use Orcish battle-speech vocabulary, has shown up drunk on Liquid RC! How could he do such a stupid thing? Doesn’t he know about the risks? Not that I do, but it has to be risks with drinking unknown potions. I mean, the fear of the unknown can’t be unjustified, can it? No. That is most certainly not the case. Boffrur turned up in front of the whole army assembled for a surprise attack and told them how the RC was now running through his body and how strong he felt! Boffrur has proposed that we all drink it and then attack. The idiot failed to see that doing so will totally eliminate the element of surprise. Balin did of course side with Boffrur, just to undermine my position I bet! He is as shifty as a yellow ball with moving black dots under black lines!



Journal of Balin

Ha! This day has turned out well after all. Rarely have I seen Tryin so angry or frustrated. All praise to Boffrur for that. Besides, his idea of actually using the RC has its uses. We all feel sturdier now, as if our defence skills have suddenly increased and our armour is thicker. Excellent! This is good stuff to drink before battles, I say. Soon we will see it in action. The attack on Kugavod may not be very surprising but it doesn’t matter. Tryin has been given overall command of the army, a decision which I reluctantly agreed with. It is the only way to make that arrogant abomination get in line and stop being sour about Boffrur’s, well, overly creative behaviour. Tryin is surprisingly easy to manipulate, you just give him a high rank and he becomes blind to everything else. Now let’s go and smash some random palisade walls of a random rebel town. To Battle!!!


The Battle of Kugavod

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

-Allright lads, we split up in three groups to make it look more tactical and exciting to the readers! I will command the centre with Balin as arrow fodder... I mean commander of the ramming division. Consisting of one battering ram. We will attack first and draw the enemy attention to us.

...the other groups will stay back until the walls appear to be abandoned and then storm to flank the enemy. Last to the town square is a rotten turnip!

- Forward! Let’s take this pile of manure of a town before the lazy Tryin has even gotten himself inside the walls!
- There is a free spot at the ram for you, if you would like to actually help with more things than shouting meaningless comments, general Balin.
- What? No, I have to stay here and maintain command of the situation. Carry on, warrior.
- Yeah, we need soo much shrewd tactical command to push this thing forward to the wall and ram it. Really advanced tactics... NOT.

- Hey Ho, Hey Ho, to ram the wall we go! Hey Ho, Hey Ho, Hey Ho...
- Shut it!

- Look what you’ve done! Your stupid battle hymn has alerted the garrison. Lot’s of men in silly hats and brown dresses are rushing out to hack us apart!
- You don’t think that they might have seen us from the neat lookout towers above the gate, or heard the ram rolling over the ground here, not to mention the sound of the ram ramming against the wall?

- No, I am absolutely sure it was your singing and nothing else that alerted them. Call for reinforcements.
- No need for that. They are all sprinting to flank the foe. Even Thrain.
- WHAT?! That can’t be right. Brace yourselves, Tryin has surely come to flank US instead and assault me while I am preoccupied!
- Some day I would like to serve in an army that focuses on defeating it’s enemies instead of it’s commanders...

- See? They are attacking the woodcutters after all. Our reinforcements have actually routed them.
- Hmpf! Just a diversion from Tryins side I am sure. Note how the coward is making sure to be the last to arrive, content with catching the routing foe that is locked out by their comrades.

- We have breached the wall!
- Excellent! Into the breach and on to the taverns and breweries!

- Baaalin! You miserable moron! You’re letting the rebels escape to the square while you’re regrouping!
- If you want to make yourself useful for a change you can come inside and join me, Tryin!
- Don’t you dare call me that! It’s Thorin nowadays!
- What?
- I’m sick of you always making up names for me, so I have changed my name from Thrain to Thorin! Ha! Owned!

- Nooo! The foundation of my life is shaken! I must invent a new joke!

- Form shield wall and follow me, brave noble dwarfs!
- Ehm, Balin, this is more like a shield mob than a shield wall. Besides, in this formation the general is placed furthest to the back so it will be you who have to follow us.
- No, look, I lead from the front! Haahaha!

- You’re hardly visible in the sea of blue cloaks. You’re lucky to have that bright pink mantle of dwarf generals.
- Precisely. Look, the other enemy company is standing passively further up the street. They appear to try to form a shield wall too.

- You’re fooling yourself, that’s not a true shield wall; it’s just two companies standing on the same spot.
- Whatever. Forward, brave unorganised shield mob! Thorin, keep up if can (but I doubt it)!

- I’m right behind you, moron!

- The wall looks deserted. Just like it has done for the whole battle so far. But something tells me now is a good time to attack. I wonder if the guys on the other side just thought of the same thing?

- Muahahaha! We have broken through their blocking force and caught the retreating door guards off guard!

- That would surely be an impressive tactical feat, were it not for the fact that those things were achieved just by madly rushing forward up this street.
- Shut up, Thorin!

- Look, Thorin, the western force is rushing in to flank the enemy!

- Excellent! All will fear the tactics of the mighty Thorin the Terrific!

- Blood, blood, blood!
- Take it easy Balin, you’re not a Dunland berserker.

- Push forward, I can see a tavern!
- Where?
- At the city square. That large building has to be the tavern.
- That’s just a random town building. This backwater town doesn’t even have a tavern.

- I regret to inform your lordship that we are a bit tired. Can we send in the reserves now?

- Indeed. Have you been spending time in Stingland, by the way?

- Raagh! Flank their archers to keep them from shooting us!

- They are already engaged by the eastern companies! We should target the other archers!
- Too late! Those have already been reserved for the axemen.

- Accuracy isn’t held in such high esteem among you rebels, is it?

- What? “looks down” Don’t shoot me, damn it! I’m not a dwarf, I’ve only fallen to the ground!

- If you strike me down I will become more powerful than you could possibly imagine!
- Surrender, then!
- Never!
“slash”

- He has resurrected two dozens of the foe!
- He must be a necromancer!
- Flee!
- Not all necromancers are dark lords in disguise. This is not Dol Guldur.
- Promise?
- Look, let’s hack them apart. If they fall, I win, because then they are clearly not disguised dark lords.
- If you lose the bet, who wins?

- Fear the mighty Thorin the Terrific!
- You are neither mighty nor terrific.
- Yes I am. You’re always such a negative Balin!
- Look at the victory report. You are just Lord Thorin. Hahahahaha!
- Still better than you, who aren’t mentioned at all.

- Some of our warriors seem to be affected by the religious environment. Look how they fall to the ground praying.
- They’re just stretching their backs.

Journal of Thorin the Terrific

Aaah, what a great week! We managed to capture the town before the Easterlings could intervene and now their army has marched home. Not only that, but I have sent out Balin on a mundane and trivial task - building watchtowers near the river. I hear it is full of mosquitoes this time of the year. At least I hope so. Maybe this Liquid RC isn’t so bad after all. I have despatched two companies to socialize with the villagers and buy them free beer. Hopefully this will make them more cooperative and we can learn something about the origin of the Liquid RC. The only bad thing is that it’s a costly enterprise, taking the toll of 43 gold coins per three months!

Journal of Balin

Damn the little lordling! It was I who made the major contribution to our victory. It was thanks to MY reinforcements Thorin wasn’t trampled by Easterling Kataphracts out in the wild. And now he repays me by sending me out to build WATCHTOWERS! The least glorious and most dull and boring work imaginable! But all is not lost. Now that we have captured Kugavod, the king will likely be more open to suggestions of more expansion. Such as reclaiming Moria... I must get back to Erebor as soon as I get the opportunity. But first I need to find out more about the Liquid RC. That in itself will probably take up a whole random ½ chapter.

[Radzeer]

Damn hilarious!

Allright lads, we split up in three groups to make it look more tactical and exciting to the readers!

And the rest of the battle was just as good too!
You do have a formidable comedy talent.

[Scottish King]

Excellent! I really liked the battle Can't wait for the next 1/2 update!

[Maltacus]

___________________________________Part 17. Bilbo the Silly Hobbit_________________________________

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

West of Bree there was an old forest with grumpy and irritable trees, particularly willows. East of the forest were some burial mounds and old misty hills with buried lords from the days of Arnor. They had crafted weapons of the most supreme quality and power, possibly with the force even to break the magical bodies of wraiths and other dark beings. But the White Council and other enemies of Sauron had obviously urgent business elsewhere for none ever bothered searching the haunted mounds.

The forest was said to be home to the arguably most ridiculous being ever born. Whether it was senility due to his immensely high age or just his personality, no one could tell. Everyone agreed, though, that the trait “Dangerously Mad” did not even come close to describe Tom Bombadill. Halvdan didn’t even think Bombadill existed, deeming the story about him to silly too be realistic. Runar was unsure. Gandalf looked on with amusement but said nothing.

In the end the dwarfs agreed not to visit the Old Forest. First, Tom Bombadill did by all accounts not rule any kind of state with an interest in diplomatic relations with Erebor. Second, he either did not exist or, if he existed, he was apparently too mad and silly to be worth negotiating with. According to Gandalf, who now finally said something about the matter, Tom Bombadill was also highly irresponsible. If he would be entrusted, say, the One Ring or something equally important he would likely just throw it away or forget it.

Following the road west the small fellowship crossed Brandywine River using the conveniently placed but unstable hobbit bridge. Gandalf then insisted on taking a small detour south to avoid the densely populated land closest to the river. His reputation was apparently not the best after the suspicious activities related to Bilbo Baggins sudden disappearance and return many years ago. This detour happened to lead the travellers into the grounds of the Maggot family.

The famous farmer Maggot had a prosperous farm near Brandywine River. His lands provided vegetables and the prized hobbit delicacy – mushrooms. Business was good until the intolerable brats of Hobbiton grew up to the thieving scum they were. Worst of them all was Frodo Baggins, Bilbo’s nephew. His gang scoured the poor farmer’s grounds for all kinds of mushrooms, to the formers great irritation.

It happened that Mr Maggot was walking along the road that Runar and Halvdan were using. He was eating on a large chunk of grilled meat and looked on the whole unusually barbaric for being a hobbit. The dogs were most enthusiastic, having caught the scent of the food long ago. They tracked the meat to the lone hobbit and jumped eagerly around him. The dwarfs hurried after while Gandalf strolled casually after them.

-Vaff vaff! Vov, voff!
-Huh! Hrrm, what is this?! said Maggot.
-No, stop this! You’re ruining our diplomatic relations! Sit! Runar shouted.
-Leave the farmer alone, you indiscreet wolves! Halvdan added.

Mr Maggot didn’t seem too troubled for being an ambushed peasant. He had turned around and viewed the dogs with much interest, although he was careful to keep his meat high and out of reach.

-Don’t overexcite yourselves, dwarfs. Hey, it’s just four hungry dogs.
-My apologies, sir, said Runar and thought that the situation was utterly embarrassing.
-Take it easy, said Maggot and scratched one of the dogs behind its ear. Nice dogs you’ve got. I didn’t know you dwarfs kept dogs around you. But then, dwarfs don’t usually come to the Shire.
-No, we usually don’t. Neither come here nor keep dogs, said Halvdan. These have been our travelling companions here in Eriador but now that we are going even further south we don’t really know what to do with them. We might eventually go even to Harad and that’s no land for a northern wolf or dog. But we don’t want to send them away either because they seem to prefer staying with us.
-Personally, I could use a couple of dogs to help guard my grounds. You see, I am constantly plagued by mushroom raids by the unbearable Hobbiton brats. The worst of all is Frodo Baggins. I hear his uncle, Bilbo, has started some sort of imperialistic network too. Don’t go near those folks, or you’ll regret it, mark my words.
-Consider them marked. But it happens that we regrettably have to go there to help one of Gandalf’s friends with something.
-Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Since you are here we might as well travel together along the road until I reach my grounds.

So Maggot and the other travellers continued along the road. Maggot even shared some of his lunch with the dogs. When they came to a crossroad leading into the forest he announced that it was the path to his grounds and he was about to take his leave. The dogs did not approve. They barked and wanted to drag the dwarfs into the forest too.

-So you want to stay here in the Shire, asked Runar.
-Vaff!
-That usually means yes I think. What about you, Mr Maggot? Would you like the dogs to stay with you?
-Are you joking!? That would be excellent! Hobbiton brats, beware! Now my grounds will finally be sufficiently guarded.

Maggot went off with three of the dogs, but the smallest of them didn’t like the dark forest. He ran back to Runar and Halvdan and continued to travel in the company of the dwarfs. From this day the farmer Maggot was both famous and infamous for his three great dogs and his mushrooms were much harder to acquire by mischievous intruders.

The notorious burglar and thief Bilbo Baggins lived a retired life in Hobbiton where he invited lots of hobbits to enormous birthday parties and smoked pipe weed while admiring the loot he had collected on the expedition to steal various valuables from Smaug the dragon years ago. The expedition had ended in the sudden demise of the dragon and renewed dwarven dominion over the lonely mountain. Thus, one could argue that Bilbo should be known as a robber instead of a burglar, but no definite conclusion had been communicated by any court made up of neither dragons nor valar so the matter remained open for discussion.

Little did the neighbours expect that Bilbo would undergo such a change of mind once he found that one of his trinkets, a ring of some kind, had been stolen. It happened a decade after his homecoming and witnesses described a suspicious-looking fellow asking questions nearby about “the thief Baggins, preciousss” while also mumbling something about fish and grunting something about birthday presents. The same person had been seen climbing near Bilbo’s smial but people generally assumed that he was a new gardener or something similar.

This event transformed Bilbo into a raving, power-hungry madman. He used his modest contacts to create a dubious network of spies and secret servants. Soon, no detail of the latest fluctuations of the potato market could escape his ears. But he was no closer to finding the missing ring. So Bilbo started to look beyond the simple and simple-minded inhabitants of the Shire and broadened his knowledge on religious and political matters. Bribing and threatening merchants from far far away he built up a network of corruption which in time would take the shape of an empire in some lands and a fanatical religious movement in others. Everywhere, Bilbos pale skin, power-hungry eyes and cruel-looking teeth where a sure sign of trouble, no matter whether he otherwise dressed in black robes or extravagant garments or just a plain hobbit costume.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

This led to great unrest in Hobbiton and some of the inhabitants actually emigrated. Many of them travelled to Stingland with their ponies, where they formed a light hobbit cavalry – the so called Hobilars.

But the evil presence of Bilbo did not go unnoticed. The rangers of the north gathered a large (for them) army and besieged Bag End (Bilbo’s home and estate). Head of the besieging forces was Halbarad, the de facto leader of the Dunedain of the north since the chief Aragorn was often away on travels to distant lands and hanging out with obscure wizards and other shady characters. Halbarad had studied some of the history of Beleriand and other old places and remembered the danger related to besieging enemy fortifications. Especially Angband and Barad-Dur had been very costly and dangerous to besiege.

Now, Bilbo was perhaps not quite as dangerous as Morgoth but he had attempted to mimic the Dagor Bragollach by throwing torches from his windows and firing fireworks at anyone visible. Clearly Bilbo had planned for this event for a long time and stored some of the customary fireworks from each of his birthday parties the last two decades. He and his followers were also more or less self-sufficient due to the great garden where they, like all hobbits, grew heaps of vegetables. The rangers were so hardened by their travels that they could eat more or less anything so they endured as well. They waited around Bag End, hidden carefully and hoping that something would happen that would bring an end to their long and boring siege.

But then one day Gandalf arrived with two dwarfs, which caused quite an uproar among the hobbits. Everybody knows that when Gandalf arrives in the Shire accompanied by dwarfs great turmoil and irregularities are about to occur (look what happened to Bilbo when Gandalf and Thorin and his companions arrived, or imagine how a birthday party will end when those fellows have supplied the fireworks).

Halbarad was however more enthusiastic. He wanted to purchase dwarf facemasks to aid his men against the flaming defences of Bilbo Baggins. The dwarf facemasks are renowned across Middle Earth for their epic coolness.

They are so cool that they can mitigate even the heat of a dragons breath. They are perhaps almost as cool as the Cuman or Kypchak masks. Or maybe not really, but still very cool. Runar and Halvdan where nevertheless a bit surprised of the reason for why Halbarad wanted their assistance.

- Yes. We have everything set here for our siege except masks for the fire. Is there a problem?
- You may very well soon have one. The masks are mainly made by the dwarf smithing guild and their prices... Well, suffice to say that they do not part willingly with their wares. The common descriptions of their application of their near market monopoly range from “outrageous” to “scandalous” and “appalling”.
- You dwarfs hold us at random, and you know this!

- Don’t look at me, I’m not a member of the smithing guild! Halvdan and I represent Erebor as a whole. We deal more with matters of state and politics. And eating and drinking.
- And walking and travelling, said Halvdan. We have temporarily distracted the goblins from our lands...
- So now they will instead come down to Eriador to pillage! Oh, THANK YOU.
- ...but we could perhaps rethink that strategy and opt for an epic invasion of the Misty Mountains in general and Moria in particular if we could get enough assistance from allies to have our flanks secured.

-That’s more like it, said Halbarad. We have a deal! Or perhaps two deals. I suppose I still have to deal with this mask ordering.

-We’ll give your state budget a hero’s funeral, said Runar. Nice doing business with you. See you at the Misty Mountains as soon as we can find a way to persuade Dain to let Balin loose to reclaim Moria.
-Who is Balin?
-He was one of the dwarfs that travelled with Gandalf and Bilbo. He is infamous for his obsession with retaking Moria and his silly conflict with Thrain, our faction heir. Those two regularly engage in annoying and overbearing taunting of each other. It is a miracle that either of them gets anything done.

Thanks to the splendid diplomacy and customer-friendly warnings the relations between Erebor and Eriador improved. The new allies would perhaps not be that useful against the goblins, being made up largely of hobbits and the wall-building flower-power militia but at least they would provide some distraction.

[Scottish King]

Another well written chapter!

[Radzeer]

This was again hilarious!
I loved the Bilbo personality pictures!

[Maltacus]

__________________________Part 18. The Santa Clause_______________________

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

After the conclusion of the masked business, Gandalf suddenly got an urgent mission in a far away realm. Or maybe he just lost interest. It was hard to tell with these complicated old-timers that never tell anybody about what they are up to. It’s just “get up from your comfortable life and join my ill-fated thieving expedition across the dangerous mountains” or “just for your information, the family heirloom of yours is a lethal magic artefact” all the time and no explanations are given and no one gets to know anything in advance. Anyway, Gandalf was gone for the time being. Runar and Halvdan were not happy with him leaving so quickly because they had wanted to ask if he could give the fairies a lift home to their land in northern Eriador. The fairies had not taken part in the latest chapters since they had been busy chronicling the events. They missed their forest but didn’t mind staying that much. They found the travels with the dwarfs to produce a most interesting insight into the lives of other peoples of Middle Earth. Finella was even thinking of becoming a Fairyologie Doctor in anthropology at the fairy university.

Halvdan looked thoughtfully across the town street towards Bag End. He seemed unsatisfied with something. Runar was sitting below a huge tree nearby that was covered in scorch marks from fireworks from the latest unruly birthday parties, looking through the diplomatic supplies of ink, paper and dictionaries filled with complicated and unnecessary words developed by the different Middle Earth nation’s bureaucracies. Halvdan approached him.

- Something is missing here, he said.
- What? Have you lost your travellers cloak again?
- Why would I have lost my cloak? I keep my stuff well ordered, I’ll have you know.
- Those clouds over there look filled with rain so I thought you missed something that was related to rainy weather and thought of it having seen the clouds.
- As a matter of fact: NO. I mean that something is missing here regarding our mission. Every time we meet other factions you try to trick them to sign boring papers and I do a precautionary sweep of the surroundings.
- You mean you spy on them.
- Yes, that’s what I said.
- Of course.
- But here there has been no spying at all! Nothing like the undercover negotiations with sub-factions like in Mirkwood...
- Also known as making up insults about Skaldir with Miniel...
- ...or the covert operation to trick the goblins (something which I will NEVER do again)
- Yes, that was fun!
- ...or the infiltration of Gundabad. I think I ought to infiltrate Bag End. It was awfully long since I infiltrated something last time.
- What about the fireworks? How will you get inside Bilbos house?
- I have a plan. I need a pair of glasses attached to a leather mask, one set of our mountaineer equipment and some dark clothes that the rangers can part with. I also need a lantern that can be covered on all sides to hide the light if necessary.
- I believe I can procure the requested material, but I don’t see how that will help you get inside.
- Just as usual then, hehehe. Ah! Here is one other thing we almost missed here in Eriador – the mandatory befuddling of Runar the Absent-Minded.
- Who is to his great dismay accompanied by Halvdan the Shamelessly Lewd. Very well, let’s go look for some glasses and leather stuff. I believe we have a lantern or two packed that can be outfitted with covers.

Late that evening two mysterious figures could be seen hiding in the shadows near Bag End. One of them was carrying some ropes and a hidden lantern and the other carried a dark ladder (bought for an unreasonable price from Mr Overhill). Misguided by the moon just hiding itself behind a cloud, they hurried to the far end of Bag End where there were no doors. One of them climbed up the ladder, followed by the ropes, his companion and the ladder they lifted up. They were lucky nobody clicked on them because then they would have had to shout “Ladders!” as high as they could and flashing green circles would have appeared under them, revealing them to everyone in the area.

Halvdan approached the largest of the chimneys on the roof. He looked down and uncovered a bit of the lantern to look down. All was black.

-What if Bilbo decides to make tea and lights a fire, asked Runar.
- If he was up we would have seen the light before we climbed, or hear him now. Besides, Bilbo is a civilised hobbit despite this mysterious imperialism thing. He will never make tea past tea-time.
- I think you may be confusing Bilbo and the Stinglish. Are you ready?

Halvdan put his mask on and attached the climbing harness while Runar braced himself for minutes of uncomfortable work supporting Halvdans descent. So, Halvdan began to climb down the chimney, with the mask protecting him somewhat from inhaling all the years worth of soot that clogged the entrance. After reaching the fireplace he carefully looked down. All was black so he turned a little light on.

The room was empty. Halvdan turned off the light and continued in a cautious manner. He found what must have been the kitchen. It smelled of rotting cheese and had obviously not been in use for many weeks. Very strange. The hallways were dusty and appeared deserted. Halvdan also found a library which he examined with great interest. It was a little less stuffed with documents when he left the room. Finally he glanced into the bedroom. It was empty! This was ridiculous. Halvdan turned on the light and suddenly saw a message painted on the wall. It read, in great offending red letters:

Screw you guys – I’m going away!

Wondering how long time the rangers had foolishly spent guarding an empty house, Halvdan spent another hour searching it more thoroughly. He found many messages of similar character, directed especially to a hobbit family known as the Sackins, who Bilbo thought should get sacked and tied up in sacks and sent away, as well as more direct messages such as “You sack, Sackers!”. Yawning, Halvdan returned to the fireplace and let Runar lift him up. He could of course theoretically have used the door, but he didn’t want to deprive Runar of the fun of having to lift him. Besides, using doors to enter or exit houses is just sooo un-spyly.

The rangers spent several days going through the loot in Bag End. They were soon joined by Dod, the Head Gardener of Hobbiton (the hobbit equivalent of mayor) who wanted to secure the interests of the population (=secure votes in the next corrupt election). Many items in Bag End seemed to belong to other hobbits who mysteriously didn’t remember giving them away to Bilbo or leaving them in his house. The Head Gardener insisted that they be returned immediately by him personally but the rangers disagreed since they were not too happy with the cheap way Dod had won the latest election – campaigns of making the outside rangers appear as a threat to which the hobbits must respond by uniting behind the banner of his party and so on and so on (political manipulation by use of a grossly exaggerated potential – at the most – external threat, oldest trick in the book and the history, so boring....zzzzzz) – and believed he would take the opportunity to start even more smear campaigns, based on the accusation that the rangers had stolen the items, against them, causing the matter to became a source of days of argumentation after which both parties agreed on a compromise, consisting of asking the dwarfs to return the loot after it had all been accounted for and listed in proper protocols under the combined supervision of both political and ranger authorities which would be allowed two members each with the possibility of electing supplementary officials from both parts with a qualified majority voting procedure or a special procedure requiring unanimity from the attending representatives if one representative would be missing, which on second thought would be the same as a qualified majority of four, since three votes would be needed, notwithstanding that...

- Please, stop this! Shut up while Halvdan and I confer about the matter, Runar shouted.

The dwarfs walked away a bit.

- I can’t see any alternative. We have to distribute the loot; otherwise they will go on and on discussing about it forever, said Runar.
- Only three years, then the next election will come up and then all politicians will forget about any political issues and just turn to panicked, short-sighted nonsense that they hope will give them the support of the last undecided voters. Still, it’s a long time to wait.
- During that time, this absurd long sentence will grow to monstrous proportions and consume the whole AAR! Every reader will abandon it because it will become unreadable.
- I suppose so. English is a strange language indeed with these seemingly endless sentences.
- We’re lucky this is not written in, for example, Swedish, then the whole message would not be one sentence - it would be one WORD!
- Really?
- Yes. It is theoretically possible to combine any number of words in Swedish into one word. Not that it serves any practical purpose... So all that rambling could be summed up into a question of whether or not I would want to become the Hobleadarskapskontrollchefsarkivariekonsultsbrevbärardiplomatrepresentantsblablablablabla...
- Wow! Turning a message into complete nonsense using just one word! Swedish is something that should be added to the spy academy – it would allow us to confuse any town guard and then slip in unnoticed when they try to figure out what we have actually said.
- It will probably take all autumn for those morons to sort all the loot. Blast! We are so close to the Blue Mountains! At least it is our next stop. I want to visit our folks there instead of rotting away in this overgrown garden of a village.
- And I want to do some real skiing. It’s been ages since last time.

So the dwarfs reluctantly accepted to stay until they could distribute the items to their owners. But they had certain conditions...

- ...we do of course want something in return, said Halvdan. You, rangers, are to use short, clear sentences in all your correspondence as well as conspiracy with all foreign powers...
- Aaaargh! Please, nooo!
- ...and you, Dude...
-It’s Dod, dammit!
- ...are to refrain from all kinds of scare-tactics in all coming elections and other political projects of yours, as well as having anyone else do it.
- Nooooo! It’s the end civilization as we know it!
-They will break their promises as soon as we leave town, whispered Runar.
- Probably, but we must never yield to corruption. Better to go down with banners flying and investigations firing! whispered Halvdan.

The dwarfs were right (they are protagonist heroes after all) about the delay.
Runar and Halvdan spent the time learning the addresses of Hobbiton and the nearby Michel Delving and playing with their remaining dog, which they called Fenris. They had also spent half a day going through Bilbos documents that Halvdan had stolen during his infiltration. The found some very interesting information.

- I have sorted away some of the correspondence and limited the possibly relevant documents to this pile. You start from below and I from above, said Halvdan.
- Right...
- Here’s one. “Runar is a Scotsman better suited...”
- First, that is my joke! Second, it is very much outdated by now! Here is a list of potential targets for imperialistic invasion, compiled by the department of foreign affairs of Bilbo Baggins.
- What settlements are on the list? Not Erebor I hope?
- Let’s see... Edoras, Edoras, Edoras, Edoras, Edoras, Edoras, Minas Tirith, Edoras, Edoras and Edoras. And there’s a note too: “From Minister of Foreign Affairs to vice scribe: Change Minas Tirith to Edoras at once!”
- Predictable as always... Look here! From something called the research journal of B. Baggins “Midgard can be reached from Middle Earth as it is not another incarnation of the same thing, yet there are obvious links between them and therefore there has to be a gateway of some kind. The ranger siege has prevented me from further exploring the options but now I have an alternative research setup underway elsewhere. Taking the ring to Midgard will prevent Gollum or others from stealing it again. First, there is the question of having “others” return it to me. I am leaving tomorrow, must remember to pack pipe weed and burn the spare supply in the fireplace to confuse the rangers with the tobacco smokescreen. Screw you guys – I’m going away!”
- Hahaa! Another clue! So that’s how he escaped the rangers.
- If the B-team of Bagginses is correct, one could access Midgard in some way, but how? And if Bilbo gets there with his folks, if he gets the ring back, then what will happen?
- How could Bilbo get his ring back – if it really is his? He would have to steal among one million hungry goblins in the deepest Misty Mountains.
- Still, he has this large network of helpers. I think we will hear more of him in the future.

When the lists and catalogues were ready the first snow had begun to fall. Snow was a rarity in the Shire, so everyone, except grumpy old men and women who complain about everything young people do, were happier.

The dwarfs did not want any lingering legal business with the Shirelings, so they set up a short contract with a very clear clause about them being able to leave as soon as they had distributed the items to the right addresses. It was called the Speedy Advance Northwest Terminating Affairs Clause, or SANTA Clause in short.

In order to protect the various items from the snow they packed them into boxes or layers of paper bound together with strings. Then they set out to deliver the goods, dressed in red hats instead of helmets to underline the informal and peaceful in their activity. The falling snow quickly gave them large white beards. Finella and Finilia accompanied them riding on Fenris and flying around to illuminate the path. Since the party thereby always had green light they never had to stop at crossroads and could proceed very efficiently.

Hobbits generally have bells near their doors that visitors can ring when they want the door opened. This day there was an unusual jingling of bells in Hobbiton and Michel Delving as the dwarfs went to house after house with their welcome items. Runar and Halvdan still thought it was a stupid thing that they had to do it due to the silly politics of the Shire, but the happiness of the hobbits receiving the gifts made up for that to some extent. Perhaps they should start a tradition of distributing gifts (other than snowballs) during the midwinter festivities back home?

Encouraged by the jingling bells and SANTA Clause, Runar and Halvdan made good speed out of hobbit territory. It had been a productive stay in the hobbits land in the way that Halvdan had regained his own form and Runar had signed important diplomatic agreements with Eriador. Nevertheless, they were both happy to leave the silly inhabitants. Only small doses of hobbits are recommended at one time.

The next faction they would be visiting would be much better. Soon Runar and Halvdan would enjoy the company and abundant food of their cousins of Ered Luin!

[Maltacus]

________________Part 18½ Real Haggling and Real Combat__________________

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Chronicle of the State Affairs and Politics of the Dwarfs of Erebor by Librarian Libri of Erebor

Chapter Two Hundred and Something (note to self: get secretary Njali to find out what chapter we are on)

In the year 2982 of the Third Age, the dwarfs of Erebor thrived and prospered in a world that grew steadily more dangerous, and facing a steadily more uncertain future. Thus, sometimes they worried and prospered instead, as can be expected. The latest achievements of the infamous diplomat Runar and likewise infamous spy Halvdan had brought some relief lately by securing an unsteady truce with the goblins and renewing their diplomatic relations with the elves of Mirkwood. Reports coming in from the men of Dale were more worrying. The Easterlings were on the march, which should surprise nobody, and both Dol Guldur and the Misty Mountains were rumoured to be swarming with orcs.

The mining industry of both Erebor and the Iron Hills had been suitably developed to suit the archetypical mining and smithing theme of the dwarfs. Following the small expedition led by the general Gimli to the small bandit village Wormcove the roads were a bit safer and some dalesmen and ecven dwarfs settled on the open grounds north of the Lonely Mountain. The dalesmen even formed a small cavalry force that may be called upon to defend their homeland. Little did Gimli expect when being appointed to lead the expedition, that the king would order him to stay at Wormcove as a governor until the village had grown to at least a small town with a palisade wall. Gimli was not happy about it but King Dains arguments were sound, based on Gimli being needed to secure the vulnerable village against future bandits and also attracting more dwarfs to settle there. Wormcove is not really an attractive name for a town. Perhaps a better strategy should have been renaming it to Treasure Cove?

In this year a messenger arrived from Lorien. This was most unusual since those people had been very unfriendly so far, not allowing dwarfs to enter their lands at any point. Now however, it seemed that their queen had reconsidered, or that her advisors had done so. The ambassador of Lorien was named Eraisuithon. according to himself he was the bringer of an Era of Suitable Honour to the people he negotiated with, hence his name. Time would tell if he was correct. Dain was sceptical on that point but happy to accept an alliance and trade agreement with the elves, to Eraisuithon’s profound delight.

The real test came when Dain wanted to obtain guidance through Lorien in exchange for the same through the northern mountains. He intended to use it either to find a possible alternative route to attack the goblins in the future should they start to give the dwarfs trouble, and to aid the emissaries Runar and Halvdan on their way home. Eraisuithon thought the balanced offer was of no value for Lorien, whose inhabitants never went abroad unless to travel west to the harbours. He demanded an outrageous sum of money.

Dain offered a more reasonable sum of gold...

which caused Eraisuithon to lower his first and obviously not very serious demand considerably.

Dain concluded the business by offering 200 gold coins which Eraisuithon reluctantly accepted.

His irritation almost made it worth to pay the 200 coins. However, the court and councils of Erebor and other provinces were a bit worried that the commitment may cause the goblins to invade earlier than expected. The king had to spend a few weeks meeting representataives to explain his actions. The throne of the dwarfs of Erebor is inherited, but that is mainly because nobody usually wants the office. The king only really wields what power the people allow him to. The latter do not have the formal power to elect him, but they make it up with their power to expel him. A very apparent power, it became apparent in those days. Dain had to endure many harsh questions and piercing glares those days but eventually most were in agreement that the alliance and expenses were acceptable. Especially the court jesters imitation of Eraisuithons face when he barely accepted the modest sum of gold swayed many.

Chapter Two Hundred and Something More

The capture of Kugavod saw the introduction of hitherto unknown excesses in foolishness by the representatives of the king’s family, namely Thrain who is now known as Thorin. He stood for many hours on the west bank of the river east of Kugavod shouting insults towards Rhun. After reinforcements arrived commanded by Balin a flashing struggle ensued. Let it be emphasised that this does not by any means refer to the storming of Kugavod but the seemingly ceaseless bickering and taunting of the two commanders. It is a wonder that civil war did not break out among the dwarfs. The reports from Boffrur, captain of the scouts in that army, were most illuminating (see appendix UKVX of the chronicle).

Following the capture of Kugavod and the buying of beer to the inhabitants previously engaged in the cultist business, the complete story of the Liquid RC and the mysterious event known as the Rebalancing came to light. The Rebalancing, which mainly occurred a few years ago, was an event caused when energy from the mysterious point blank firing archery god, commonly known as PointBlank, seeped into Middle Earth. It affected the armies of all nations and factions, causing a radical change in some ways. The strength and weakness of every warrior became determined by the whims of PointBlank causing elite units to become even stronger and untrained militia to become totally helpless but also very cheap. The offensive power of everyone, especially archers, was weakened but accuracy of trained archers improved.

Thanks to the efforts of the less known spirit being known as Malt-Curse or something like that (I hope his name doesn’t mean he ruins the beer of ours) the Rebalancing was expanded to less known factions such as the men of Dunland and orcs of Gundabad. He also meddled in the rebalancing itself, just like the fallen vala Melkor meddled in the creation of Middle Earth. Due to Malt-Curse’s interference some military units were rebalanced according to what armour they appeared to wear rather than what PointBlank lore dictated that they should wear as well as other changes. How shallow of him! Due to his laziness the Rebalancing has not yet affected the wood elves so their armies are presumably ultra-powerful at the moment. The cultists also spoke of Malt-Curse inspiring foreign nations to form new and hitherto unknown military companies.

The Liquid Real Combat was a direct way of changing oneself to Real Combat status – the name used to describe the rebalanced followers of PointBlank. Therefore, it would seem that the radical decision of Thorins and Balins army to drink the liquid turned each of them into the mighty juggernauts the Rebalancing meant, but without their companies becoming smaller, which would have happened if they had been affected by the wave of Rebalancing that hit Erebor and Kugavod later. Now they were unaffected since their strength was already changed and thus, the dwarf armies attacking Kugavod had BOTH the advantage of new stats AND old numbers. What effects this was going to bring in the future was still unknown but many were worried about the power of Rhunnic dragon regiments, especially the archers and Kataphract cavalry which the dwarfs could not yet match. They were of course especially unlikely to ever match the cavalry, since dwarfs are fanatically devoted to fighting on foot.