The Wandering Bard

Aelerich heads back to Bree on his new Cremello steed. Though dark clouds were looming overhead, he hoped he wouldn’t run into bad weather for his trip.


Well, he made it to Bree, but not before it started pouring down rain. At least he found a stable for his horse, but now, to find a room for himself…


“Hey buddy, know where I can get a room?” Aelerich was pretty frustrated when the local replied “nope” without taking his eyes off his whittling.


Aelerich was getting pretty desperate, but not desperate enough to “do a favor for Sharkey” as “payment” for a night’s stay at this local’s abode.


Time for Aelerich to warm up in front of the fire at the Prancing Pony.


As he gazed into the fire, he wondered what he was going to do for a room. Then he got an idea…


Aelerich asks the Pony’s local entertainment for advice, and was delighted to hear the musician’s reply: “Ah, ’tis miserable weather out there! I’ll fix you up here at the Pony… musicians are always welcome here!”


“The Prancing Pony is always welcome to musicians…” Aelerich muttered under his breath as he stared up at the cobweb-riddled ceiling of the cellar. He just hoped the other “residents” of the cellar were as exhausted as he was. With thoughts of a cozy bed by a warm fire, Aelerich fell asleep and dreamed about his days long past with his beloved Celwynn.

Shoulders: Pauldrons of the Wandering Bard, Navy Dye
: Scholar’s Vestments, GreyDye
Hands: Thick Cotten Gloves, Black Dye
Feet: Soft Leather Boots, Black Dye
Back: Ceremonial Cloak of the West Tower, Grey Dye


Morning Stroll through a Quiet Town

Caelean goes for a morning stroll through her home town of Bree. It’s so early in the morning that the streets are empty, save for the shop owners preparing to open up for business.


Because it is so quiet, Caelean hears only the sounds of birds singing their songs. She looks around to see a few pecking at crumbs left on the stone road in front of the Prancing Pony.


Suddenly, they all flew away. Caelean watches them until they disappear off into the distance.


“Now what would make them fly away so suddenly? Maybe one decided breakfast was over, and it was time to leave… but to go where? Where do birds go when they fly from the safety of the town?”


A sudden urge to yawn caught Caelean by surprise. She knew it was time to return for breakfast herself, but… then what? Another sudden urge caught her by surprise… was it to find out where those birds went? Or to just find out for herself where she should fly away to after breakfast in the safety of Bree…?


Caelean decides that it was time to explore possible vocations. After thinking on it, she resolved to head out to Thorin’s hall after breakfast. Her mother wouldn’t understand, but maybe an old friend of the family would…

Head: Adamant Circlet, Washed
Shoulders: Padded Mantle of the Dunland Soothslayer, Sienna Dye
: Tattered Robe of the Dunland Sage, Rose Dye
Hands: Footman’s Gloves, Purple Dye
Feet: *coming soon*, Violet Dye
Back: Reveller’s Gilded Cloak , Purple Dye

Captain of the Watch

“A good Captain is always at the ready”


“What was that rustling? Was it just the wind? My imagination? Or something else…?”


Aelerich rejoices upon seeing his beloved Celwynn come to visit him.


Aelerich is taken aback when he finds out he missed their one-year anniversary of courtship.


So many missed dates has worn down the lonely Celwynn, and Aelerich missing their anniversary was the last straw. Aelerich, not able to leave his post, calls out in desperation as his beloved rides away…


Shoulders: Dented Pauldrons of the Dunland Clansman, Black dye
: Reinforced Dunlending Jacket, Red dye
Hands: Fine Grey Company Gauntlets, Washed
Feet: Fine Grey Company Boots, Washed
Back: Cloak of the Grey Company, Washed

Noble Determination

Iorgen was the uncle of Dáin II Ironfoot, Lord of the Iron Hills. He was honored to serve his nephew by watching over the Castle of Amli.


Iorgen was a noble, not just in name, but also in his heart. Taking care of the residents of his small castle was always a priority to him. He generally led a quiet life.


One evening, as Master Iorgen was dining with his close relatives, he was told of how one of his cousin’s sons, Thalni, had disappeared. Apparently Thalni had been in Esteldin doing some routine chores in the crafting hall when he was swayed by an elf promising mystical ways to enhance physical combat masteries. He had apparently followed the elf out of Esteldin, and no one has heard from him since.


After Iorgen and his tactical advisors poured over the maps of Eriador, they formulated a plan to form a search party for the wayward Dwarf. His advisors strongly advised that Iorgen remain at Castle Amli. They thought he was too “aged” to make the difficult journey. Iorgen wouldn’t hear such nonsense and scolded them.


Back in his private chambers, Master Iorgen gazes into the fire and tries to think about what is going on. What is this “mystical power” that this strange elf speaks of? It did not sit well with the wise old dwarf.


Iorgen’s concentration was broken when one of his guards came to inform him that the search party had left without him. The poor soldier tried to convince Iorgen that they were simply looking out for his welfare, but Iorgen gave him a lecture, ending with “I’ll show them what this old dwarf can do!”


Iorgen takes off for Eriador, leaving Castle Amli behind and not looking back.


After making the arduous journey to Eriador, Iorgen had asked everyone he came across if they had seen a dwarf resembling the description of Thalni. He finally got a lead…


Finally, he found the wayward dwarf, injured, but by what, he could not tell. Thalni’s eyes were glazed over, but even so, Iorgen could tell they were filled with shame and sorrow. Iorgen gently carried the injured dwarf to his ram and took him to the nearest town for recuperation.


Thalni, though certainly not himself, still had enough strength to convey to Iorgen what he had seen about a maze of underground tunnels with certain “hot spots” of mystical energies. The elf who led them there called herself “Lady Gweleth”. Thalni had followed her from Esteldin to the Lone lands where he caught up with her and remained in her company ever since. His mind had been foggy when they went into these tunnels on an expedition, but something went wrong, and he couldn’t remember what happened. Iorgen resolved to find out.


Arriving at the coordinates of the tunnel maze entrance, Iorgen is horrified to see the abandoned remains of deceased dwarves. “What manner of evil resides in here?”


As Iorgen explored the vast complex of caverns and tunnels, he could feel internal strength building within. He started to become concerned that he was falling prey to a nefarious source of ancient evil, and in an effort to keep himself safe from this influence, he resolved to remain a humble servant of his people and his King.


His search brought him to rooms which had elven decor, of course in ruins now. “What manner of elven complex is this?”


Before he could continue his thoughts, he was attacked by a goblin! Iorgen wasn’t armed, but he was strong… “C’mon you, let’s see what you got!”


Unfortunately, the goblin attacker was soon joined by other goblins crawling out of the darkness, and soon the noble dwarf found himself in a position where he knew he couldn’t win.


After stripping Iorgen of his helm, the goblins locked him up in a cell. Iorgen wasn’t sure to consider it a blessing that they didn’t kill him outright, or curse because they had some insidious plans for him. All he knew was his whereabouts were only known to the injured Thalni, and no one else knew where he was presently recuperating. Would Thalni recover in time to summon help for the Master of Castle Amli? Only the Maker knew…

Head: Ceremonial Himhar, Washed
Shoulders: Ceremonial War-Captain’s Shoulders, Purple Dye
: Tattered Robe of the Dunland Sage, Purple Dye
Hands: Gauntlets of the Sunlands, Purple Dye
Feet: Raddir’s Heavy Boots, Purple Dye
Back: Wizard’s Cloak of the Rider, Purple Dye

Don’t quit your day job

Barliman tried to encourage his friend Aelerich to try a vocation as a minstrel, but he wasn’t so sure about this. He felt too conspicuous in the bright-colored outfit. But, his friend told him that if he wanted to succeed at winning Celwynn back, this was the way to go. “Women love a guy who sings.  Don’t ask me why,” the bartender mused with a grunt.  And of course, if he was going to convince anyone he was a minstrel-in-training, he had to dress the part…


The barkeep tried to convince Aelerich that the best audience to please is a bunch of ale-happy hobbits. And it just so happens that there was a big festival in the Shire. “Fake it till you make it, he says…” The reluctant Aelerich never quite came to a decision… he simply resolved to go to the Shire to check things out.


Once in the Shire, Aelerich tried asking a local about the Festival at the Party Tree. The scowling hobbit shortly replied that the ones who were “into that sort of thing” hung out at the local bar down the road.


The barkeep at the Bird and Baby Inn (what an odd name for a bar, at least to Aelerich) told him how friendly the Shire folks were, and that he would be warmly received. In fact, tonight happened to be Open-Mic night, just after sundown. “What luck!” the hobbit exclaimed. Aelerich seemed less enthusiastic at first, but he was starting to warm up to this comforting hobbit.


Aelerich, bolstered by the encouragement from the local barkeep, made the decision to give it a try. “I can do this! I can sing! Just like I did when I was a kid!”


Once on stage, Aelerich felt the adrenalin rush as he started to sing for his audience.


With a last burst of romanticism, Aelerich really poured it on as his completed his finale.


With eyes closed, Aelerich let out a dramatic sigh of contentment as he reached for the audience in a symbolic gesture, signifying that they were now connected somehow through his artistic singing. “I did it! I’m an artist… and these are my people… and I love them…”


With a sweeping gesture, and his eyes still closed to savour the moment, Aelerich takes his bow. The audience was awfully quiet though… he must have mesmerized them! “They must feel as I do…. so free… ohhh so free…..”


Once he straightened up from his bow, he finally looked at his audience… except… there wasn’t one. At least, not any more. “Where’d everybody go?”


“Seriously, where’d everybody go?”


Devastated, Aelerich tries to find consolation from one of the busboys as he was cleaning up. The busboy was trying to be helpful… “You could always take up an instrument. And while you’re getting good at it, I think we have openings for seasonal work while the festival is going on…”
Aelerich didn’t hear much of the hobbit’s advice, save for one part: “You could always take up an instrument…”

Chest : Jacket of Might, Ered Luin Blue Dye
Head: Tindr’s Ward, Ered Luin Blue Dye
Shoulders: Barrow-Scholar’s Shoulder Pads, Ered Luin Blue Dye
Hands: Quickpost Gloves, Ered Luin Blue Dye
Legs: Limdur Trousers, Ered Luin Blue Dye
Feet: Shoes of Might, Ered Luin Blue Dye
Back: Reveller’s Gilded Cloak, Ered Luin Blue Dye

The Rural Constable

Watching over a small rural town is challenging… it can be difficult to remain vigilant when the town is relatively undisturbed.


The Constable notices mischief across the town center.


The Constable drags the delinquent burglar into the local tavern to give him a lecture.


After correcting the young delinquent, the Constable eats a modest meal and reflects on his vocation, acknowledging that battles both big and small are worth fighting…


Head: Adventurer’s Hat, Black Dye
Shoulders: Padded Mantle of the Dunland Soothslayer, Umber Dye
: Breatplate of Loyalty, Black Dye
Hands: Ornate Gauntlets of the Dunland Swordsman, Rust Dye
Legs: Resilient Trousers, Black Dye
Feet: Boots of the Eorlingas
Back: Cloak of the Grey Company, Sienna Dye

The Jolly Patrician

Enjoying the pipeweed given to Gundemar by his hobbit companions, with amusement he watches them perform their dances.


Gundemar tries to impress the hobbits with his own feats of acrobatics.


Not doing so well with his attempt at doing a flip (Gun landed on his head instead of his feet), he can’t help but pout a little.


Trying one more time, Gun manages to at least do a handstand. The hobbit crowd loves it! Finally, he’s made it in with the cool kids.


After Gundemar (and his hobbit companions) were chased out of the hedge-maze, they relocate to the nearest pub, where they all enjoy some liquid refreshment.


After a fun-filled day, Gundemar heads for home, where he knows he has to return to the duties of his station. It was so nice to forget about it… even if just for a little while…

Head: Padded Hat of the Dunland Soothsayer, Rivendell Green
Shoulders: Padded Mantle of the Dunland Soothsayer, Rivendell Green
: Hill-man’s Cracked Leather Jacket, Rivendell Green
Hands: Footman’s Gloves, Rivendell Green
Feet: Brushed Leather Boots, Rivendell Green
Back: Elegant Backpack, Rivendell Green

A Heart’s Dilema

Celwynn stretches and lets out a big yawn. She woke up earlier than usual, mostly out of excitement of spending the day with her beloved Aelerich on the first anniversary of their relationship.


“Ah, what a beautiful morning it is today! Too bad he already went on his morning run… I wanted to surprise him at his flat!”


After waiting for a couple of hours, Celwynn starts to actively look for Aelerich since he had not yet returned. After asking several of the Bree locals, she was told by one of the grocers that he grabbed a quick breakfast and said he was heading off to Thorin’s Hall.


“What in the world is he doing THERE, amongst all those… DWARVES.” Celwynn didn’t trust the dwarves… something about an old family feud. At any rate, she was completely perplexed as to why Aelerich would go all the way out to Ered Luin at all on this day, their first anniversary.


After a long journey across Eriador, Celwynn pauses at the foot of the stairs of Thorin’s Hall before going inside to look for Aelerich.


Celwynn is frustrated by her perceived lack of hospitality by the dwarven guard. “Can’t you tell me anything about Aelerich at all?” Refusing to break his watchful gaze on the Hall, the guard snapped that she should go talk to Dwalin, Master of the Hall.


As Celwynn approaches Master Dwalin, she thinks to herself “You are kidding me… what are you doing all the way up there? Isn’t it drafty? “


After finding out Aelerich volunteered for some silly “diplomatic guard duty” for the dwarves, Celwynn takes her anger out on poor Dwalin. “Look you stinky little man, this is our first anniversary, and if I find out he was coerced into this, I will have Elrond himself come down here and teach you a lesson!”


“OOOoooohhhhh” Celwynn’s really upset. She should lay off the coffee.


“Ghallag ol’ boy, I don’t care if your horseshoes scuff up their precious polished marble floor… no more Miss Sweetness! We’re going to find Aelerich!”


“Ah great, it’s getting dark… we’ll never make it back to Bree for dinner…”


Celwynn finally finds Aelerich, standing guard like a common soldier at one of the outer doors in the complex near Thorin’s Hall. “Why are you doing this? You are a Captain for crying out loud… And your explanation…?”


Celwynn couldn’t believe what she was hearing… “You FORGOT our anniversary? That’s it… that’s the last straw… GOODBYE!”


Celwynn hops onto Ghallag and rides off, but something still tugs at her heart…


Celwynn pauses at the outer gate of the Thorin’s Hall complex, and breaks down. She wiped her eyes and looked up at the dwarf statue, which somehow seemed to be pointing her back toward her beloved.


But with all the broken dates, and now this, Celwynn just couldn’t take it any more. The heartbroken elf sniffled and steeled herself, thinking herself strong while only burying her feelings. She turned her horse around and rode away. “What do dwarves know anyway…”

Chest : Jacket of the Shade Finder, Rose Dye
Head: Wide-Brimmed Spring hat, Rust Dye
Shoulders: Pauldrons of the Wandering Bard, Rust Dye
Hands: Pever-Durnvol, Rust Dye
Legs: Embroidered Silk Leggings, Purple Dye
Feet: Coblaith’s Slippers, Sienna Dye
Back: Simbelmynë Cloak, Sienna Dye