I had a fine talk with a fellow hunter of Bree today, Narys was her name, and I told her this tale, as it was fairly fresh in my mind (the latest events only occurred a week ago). I will write it down here, since I must say it was a rather riveting tale, and I'd hate to lose it all from my memory when more exciting happenings inevitably push it out.
But, while I said it was all rather recent, the beginnings of the tale are from a few months ago. I had never really traveled much through the Weather Hills, and when I did it was only briefly. This time, however, I had a mission: wolves, packs of them, roamed freely throughout the hills. I had a big order of wolf fur to fulfill, so I thought the easiest path might be to start hunting in the Weather Hills for a change. And, though that's not the story I'm writing in full, my mission was successful, and from the top of a small ravine I was able to shoot down a full pack of wolves, completing the order with relative ease, as I expected.
As I was waiting for the wolves to pass me by, however, I noticed a small plant with a white flower. It looked rather like something that Leecher Cartwell often hires me to retrieve from the Chetwood when I'm off hunting, something with healing properties I'm sure, so out of consideration for good Master Cartwell I took a good deal of it, and stowed it away in my pack.
When I returned to Combe, I went to see the leecher, and showed him my harvest of that herb. He laughed at me, and said that what I brought him was terribly poisonous. He kicked me out of his house right then and there, and said that, while he appreciated the thought, I should stray from picking random plants in lands I don't know well.
A few months later, I was hunting deer on the eastern edges of the Chetwood (and I had already been mildly successful, and was carrying around a sack of prime cuts of venison) when I came upon the Weather Hills. I would typically pay it no mind and turn back west, but something on the horizon caught my eye: ruins, it seemed, that I hadn't seen before. And, let me tell you, I've seen plenty of ruins before. It's hard to shoot an arrow in Bree-land without hitting some ancient Arnorian wall or tower, but I suppose my lack of experience in the Weather Hills has shielded my eyes from this particular set of ruins. Since then I've looked the area up in maps, and these ruins were, in the old days, called Ost Alagos.
Curiosity got the better of me that day, and I approached the ruins stealthily. Something gnawed at the back of my mind, and told me that not all was well there. And, as it turned out, my gut was right for once. Orcs, tons of them, and half-orcs too, occupied the fallen fortress. My first thought was to let loose all my arrows, but such an assault would be suicide, so I stayed my hand. But, of course, I couldn't simply let these brutes stay here, and potentially attack Bree! So I sat there, behind a bush, trying to think of a proper course of action.
Which is when it hit me: I was carrying a sack of meat, and orcs love meat, and I just happened to know of a supposedly potent poison that grew in that area. So I snuck away, found some of that herb at the base of the hill, and threw it into the sack. I tore it up a good deal so that, hopefully, the poison would spread everywhere, and I shook it well to mix it all up. Then I went as close to the ruins as I dared, left the bag, and hoped that the orcs would find it.
I wanted to stay and see what the poison would do, but I dared not risk being discovered. So I retreated back into the Chetwood, where I had to restart my hunting, since I used all of my venison in laying the trap for the orcs and half-orcs. I like to think that I killed them all that night when they sat down to eat it, but that's all just wishful thinking.
