New Journal, Entry Ten - The New Captain

The morning begun bitterly after the ashen victory we had won a few days past. 

We had spent the next few days in recovery and in futile scouting of the nearby lands for any tracks in the hard, frozen ground and the pale sheets of snow without any fortune to speak of. Ulfey lightened our hearts when she brought us a little Yule spirit - I hadn't even begun to consider the season! It was the usual fare, ash cakes but with dried berries and spices that added flavour and cheer to our humble meal. I believe it brought a smile to even our dubious new companion, Remdir, though I found smiles ill suited for a man whose face looks as though it but narrowly escaped being cloven in two by an axe so foul were his scars.

The mercenary that had turned against his fellows in fury when he learnt of their true nature, despite his foul manner and rugged virtues, he was outraged when he realized who his employer truly were. He made clear his intention to join us, for now, perhaps feeling indebted. 

Filled with the ease only Haetíra and her yule cakes could bring me, I put my mind back onto our dilemma: we remain blind to the movements of our foe, our only lead ended by Garram's fury. It was a terrible thing he did, to slay a helpless foe. But his remorse over his lapse of passion is genuine and he is keen to redeem it. I brought Remdir aside, as I had done every day since his joining, and asked him what he knew. My attention was brought toward the Weathertop, Amon Sûl. I had not considered it until now. That is what we needed, our eyes may be keen but we would find little scouring these low hills, but from such a vantage, all would be revealed to us! 

But as Remdir confirmed it could not be so simple. I felt no surprise to hear that our foe had realized the same and they had established a watchpost atop the old tower and they guarded it jealously. We were capable warriors but to fight an uphill battle through those narrow paths would be tantamount to suicide. To climb the hilltop by stealth would prove a risk at every step, whether by a failed handhold or an alarm, our doom would be assured. Instead we considered our least likely approach: trickery. 

A plan was swiftly formed. We would put our precious trust into Remdir's hands and ascend the hilltop disguised as his guards with Ulfey and Garram bound in ropes as his prisoners, to bring the supposed witch of the Bree-lands would be enough to win him an audience with their leader. We made our attires more rugged than they were before and discarded our stars. I venture to say that Arostir made a fine brigand indeed for his fiery manners. If I had any doubts about Garram's wish to redeem himself they were soon gone, we all knew that it would make a poorly crafted lie that a dwarf would come unharmed; and so he seperated himself from us without a word, and when he returned, he did so with a bleeding nose and a fresh cut across his face. Valar know I would not ask him of this myself!

The proceedings puzzled me. We approached unmolested but were challenged almost immediately but Remdir stared them down with threats and posturing that I expected would lead to nothing but a fight. Instead they parted way and we were brought onwards to the top of the hill, passing by a smattering of sentries and guardsmen. No matter how poor soldiers they were, my gut feeling was true. We would not survive a battle uphill through all these defenses. A camp was erected at the top of the tower and we were introduced to the commander of this watchpost at last. 

It was a particularly short, stunted goblin.

It seemed ridiculous. Full of hot air and pride the stunted and hunched creature goaded and shrieked in response to Remdir's predictable bout of insult. This carried on and I felt my companions grow itchy for a fight, none were happy with this arrangement, least of all to be talked down by a goblin. Garram chafed against his bindings and so did Arostir against those imposed to him only by my word. 

Sensing the challenge from our 'leader' the goblin threatened him with sorcery gifted to him by the old man. Remdir did not have the good sense for fear. The commander of the weathertop drew its sorcerous implement with fury, a rod of hollowed steel and a leather-bound grip, he thrust it forth and at his command the very tower rocked with thunder! An eldritch explosion of fire and smoke roared from his weapon, the boom was immense and too much alike the black powder I had seen other servants of Sharkey employ, but for all its bluster the goblin's sorcery had failed him. Whether it be by the will of the Valar or dumb luck, the spell did naught but stir up the earth by Remdir's feet. 

If he had been rattled, he did not display it. In a bout of fury so sudden none dared to react, his axe sprung into his grip and the goblin's skull was split in twain. The commander of the Weathertop was no more, and we were keen to fill the vacant position with one of our own. Once the shock passed the goblin's sergeants rose to announce their claim for captancy, Remdir's made his own.. 

I shall never understand the manners of outlaws and brigands, it seems similiar to the ruling of orcs albeit Men are not so fast to come to blows. I joined my voice with that of Remdir and my allies drew their weapons, Arostir's posturing was by far the most genuine as his blade rang out readily to meet that of any whom would oppose our will. Together we whittled down their will by a show of force, and a new captain now ruled the watchtower and its raggedy troupe of brigands. 

Captain Clovenface.