November 5, 2965…

Inside the Prancing Pony, Maethordan watched as two men, who looked to be twins, stood up and seemed to quickly follow after Lodin and the other man with Lodin – the one Fay called Ellwin. His gaze followed the twins as they went out the front door, clearly following Lodin.

Maethordan turned the table and said in a harsh rasp, "Lodin is on trouble," but even before he had finished, he was already quickly moving through the bustling inn, his hand on the hilt of his sword. 

Fay watched as the all too familiar twin brothers of Fred and Harry Stoneacre walked behind Maethordan, a look of deep, determination their eyes that burned with darkness. Setting down her cup, Fay made her way to where Butterbur had been standing; taking what seemed to be an order of another few pints. “Begging your pardon, Barnabas,” she said, tapping him on the shoulder, her voice for once louder and more confident, “I believe my – and Gandalf’s – friends may be being ambushed by the stables of the Prancing Pony,” she gestured where Lodin and Ellwin had exited, followed by the twin brothers. “More than likely – between the three of them – they can handle whatever the twin brothers may be up to. We may need to get the Bree Wardens here, though,” she shrugged, “in case things get out of hand. Perhaps you can send someone to go get the Bree Wardens? You could come with me as a witness. After all, we know that the twins have a father of some influence here in Bree. And,” she leaned close, “this may involve the Broken Hand.”

Barnabas nearly dropped his half-empty mug in his hand at the mention of the Broken Hand. The Broken Hand was an organization of Ruffians that most were unaware of in Bree; but more than enough of them had come to the Prancing Pony, much to Barnabas’ dismay, and often spoke of business, boldly discussing their distaste of the Bree Wardens and how “one day they would change things around here.” Barnabas often chased them away, but some of them, like the twins, had – as Fay had mentioned – family of influence here in Bree – and keeping them out was often a difficult task.

Barnabas called out, “Teelia!” He gestured to the young, redheaded waitress. “Be a dear,” he whispered, “and fetch Captain Percy Skyhawk. Let him know that someone has injured their hand at the Prancing Pony. He will know exactly what it means. Now, go girl, and go with a quickness.”

Barnabas looked to Fay and followed her as they headed for the door, his hand firmly gripping the mug in his hand, ready to crash it over someone’s head if he needed to.

While Fay had gone to talk to Barnabas, Hobart walked into the kitchen palming a pint glass in his right hand and reached into a burlap bag of salt with his left as he walked quickly and quietly out the back door, the chef watching as Hobart walked through his kitchen. Hobart descended down the side stairs and quickly walked up toward the scene, staring at what he grabbed – salt. “Assault,” he chuckled inwardly. “A-salt,” he whispered to himself. “Curses, where's a hobbit when you need one? They would appreciate such a play on words.” 

Hobart seemed to melt into the shadows as he quietly moved to the front of the Prancing Pony where he could hear Lodin speaking to someone – undoubtedly the twin ruffians – and the exchange, while pleasant, was clearly tense…

Outside the Prancing Pony…

Stepping out of the shadows, a human emerged, the moonlight gleaming off the blade of a small dagger. “You’re a stranger here,” the man’s voice slurred the words. “We don’t welcome strangers here in Bree. I saw you sitting with the witch, Fay. She’s not normal either. Not from here. I bet she killed her mother and grandfather, and Anna, her friend, disappeared. Too coincidental if you ask me,” the man’s words were running into one another. “I saw your horse, stranger. You can leave that here. I will take it. But you need to go. And go tonight.”

Ellwin raised his hands. The man, stumbling out of the shadows was none other than Lenny Appleton, a local boy who found himself on the wrong side of the law, and now frequently kept company with questionable ruffians. He would be far more dangerous if he wasn’t usually drunk. Lenny was thin and lanky, his arms almost nothing more than bones, but despite his weaving due to his intoxication, he seemed to move like a serpent. His brown hair was unkempt and his hazel eyes lacked focus. His red shirt was tattered and stained, his grey leather pants riddled with holes and patches.

The door to the Prancing Pony opened, and out stepped Fred and Harry Stoneacre. The twins looked exactly alike and dressed exactly alike – their blond hair was long, both with long beards. The only way to tell them apart was Fred had a scar over his right eye. The story goes that Harry tried to give himself a matching scar, simply because his twin had one, but the scar never kept.

Ellwin shook his head, “Don’t do this, boys.”

“If the man leaves and takes the witch with him, and leaves the horse, everything will end just fine and no one gets hurt tonight,” Lenny managed to get the words out. He leaned against the wall as the world seemed to dip and sway around him.

“Listen to Lenny,” Fred said, brandishing a dagger.

“We don’t want trouble,” Harry added, “we just want the horse.”

Lodin shook his head, and yet still managed to smirk, as he placed himself between the three men and the tailor, Ellwin Greeland. “Now,” he said, raising his hands slight, “let’s suppose, just for a moment, I do as you ask. First, let me tell you, I will be leaving in the morning anyhow, so we’re of one mind there. However, horses are not mere beasts of burden and this one least of all.” Lodin smiled at the thought of these ruffians trying to get Dolly do what they wanted.

"That's just it," Lenny laughed, the odor of alcohol pouring out of his breath. "We need a strong horse like yours to get the wagon of weapons we have hidden."

"Shut up, Lenny," Fred growled. "If your horse doesn't cooperate then we down him and eat him for dinner. Go to the stable master and tell him you've sold your horse to us - then, we go take it - and we're gone. Won't see us again."

"Probably, won't see us," Harry snickered.

“Now you're crossing a line boys, a criminal conspiracy and worse, turning Dolly into a meal? You should learn to pick your marks better. She would be more likely to crush your head in your sleep than play nice with you. She is not dumb. What would be gained then?” Lodin shrugged, “Instead, I propose a better deal that leaves us all uninjured. We all go back inside,” he nodded with his head, “and I buy you a meal and a round of mead.  Even with three of you, and me without my sword, I don't think that you could handle me."

“Oh, this one is feisty,” Harry nudged his twin brother, Fred.

With blinding speed, Lodin covered the distance between him and the drunkard Lenny, and with an elbow to Lenny’s chest to knock whatever wind the drunkard had in his lungs, Lodi was able to grab Lenny’s dagger and pull it from him. Lodin saw the door slowly opening behind the twins and caught the glint of steel against the moonlight that peered through the storming clouds.

Maethordan’s pulled himself up to his full height as he set the blade of his sword against the nape of Fred’s neck. “You know this will end very badly for you. My name is Maethordan, and I am a Ranger of the North. Leave now and you leave with your lives.”

Fred pressed himself against the blade enough so that it drew blood, as he glanced over his shoulder, “Ranger of the North. The trash of the land without a home,” he sneered as he raised his hands and still clutching his dagger firmly in his hand. “This is what happens when we don’t employ worthy Gate-Keepers. They let in people like him,” he nodded towards Lodin with his head, “and rubble like you, Ranger of the North. But it seems you have us at a disadvantage.”

Hobart was still in the shadows, watching, ready to spring into action. He was watching Harry, who of the two twin brothers, was perhaps the more maniacal and unpredictable one. Harry’s eyes were dashing between the Ranger behind them and Lodin in front of them, as if playing out multiple scenarios in his head, as to who this might play out. He giggled to himself slightly, perhaps pleased with how one of the bloody scenarios played out in his head. 

He took a step forward as if he were about to leap at Lodin, and Hobart’s knees bent, ready to spring into action, like a serpent wound and ready to strike, when another voice, sternly called out, “I wouldn’t do that, Harry.”

Hobart remained in the shadows and peeked around the corner – it was someone he recognized, Captain Percy Skyhawk. Captain Percy Skyhawk was one of the Warden of Bree, and a good man. He had long blond hair, pulled into a pony tail and seemed to have a permanent stubble on his face. His blade was drawn and the rain that fell this night ran down the blade, allowing it to glisten each time the moon broke through the clouds, every so often.

“You wouldn’t be harassing these fine patrons of the Prancing Pony, now would you,” he asked.

“No, Captain,” Fred smirked. “Nothing like that. Just out here whittling some wood.”

“In the rain,” Captain Percy Skyhawk said flatly.

“When doesn’t it rain in Bree,” Fred retorted.

Captain Percy Skyhawk looked between Fred and Harry, “Go on, and take Lenny back home so he can sleep it off. I will have no more trouble from the three of you. I care not who your father is, if I need to, I will find a prison to throw the three of you in, so that you disappear forever.”

Harry and Fred made their way down the stairs, their gaze never leaving Maethordan. When the door opened and Fay and Barnabas stood there, Lenny suddenly shouted, “There she is!” he gestured, the slurred words falling out of his mouth. “The witch. She’s the one who vexes us all. She is the reason Bree has fallen on ill times. People around her die and vanish! Ask her! Ask her,” he shouted.

“You had best take him away quickly,” Captain Percy Skyhawk warned them, “before I made good of my promise.”

The twins dragged Lenny away, all the while, he continued to scream, “She’s a witch!” until his screams faded into the rainy night.

Percy looked, “Ellwin, good to see you. Stirring up trouble again, I see,” he jested.

Ellwin, who had not fled, refused to leave Lodin against three people, though he knew not what he would have done if a fight had erupted, laughed nervously, “Yes, well, you know me, Percy, one for trouble.”

Captain Percy Skyhawk shook his head, “My apologies. Those three of been trouble for quite some time. Barnabas, if they are in need of a room, I will cover it for the night,” Percy offered. 

“Taken care of already, by Master Gandalf, sir,” Barnabas replied.

Even as the rain fell, Captain Percy Skyhawk’s eyes widened, “Ah, friends of Master Gandalf. No wonder those three were drawn to you. I love Master Gandalf, but the folks he calls friends, do tend to have the worse luck at staying out of trouble.” He coughed, “I will keep watch tonight around the inn and assure those three don’t return.”

The party is free to speak to the Captain, or whatever, they’d like to do right now… Ellwin never fled, refusing to leave Lodin against three people, so he’s still standing there as well.

Fellowship Points:

4 (1 per player) + 2 (Gandalf) = 6

Fellowship Bonus: Gandalf

You can spend a Fellowship point to roll an additional d20 after a saving throw (but before the outcome is determined), and choose which of the d20s is used.

Eye Awareness: 2

Lodin, son of Brodin: Successful Athletics Check

Maethordan: Successful Intimidation Check

Hobart: Successful Stealth Check

Fay: Successful Strange News From Bree