The little Hobbit went about his work

The hobbit went to each of the Orcs and slit their throats where they lay. Some struggled. The Hobbit took no pity, cutting with his long knife without hesitation. Patron was taking stock of the various boxes, sacks and kegs from the Chieftain’s room. “Brandy,” he said. “These small kegs are brandy.”

We had snuck into the cavernous room mid-morning. The space was littered with mess from the troop of Orcs: picked-over bones, broken furniture and rubble, and burned out fires. The troop of Orcs were sleeping after a night foraging in the low hills around Backgammon’s peak. Once Wizz the Hobbit had snuck in and dealt with the chief in his private room the rest didn’t stand a chance.

The Orcs came running from their chambers only to be caught up in a magical web cast over the doorway. The Elves peppered them with arrows, leaving little for me to do but keep the Orcs from bursting through the web. A couple of Orcs tried to make a run for it, ripping the boarding off the window and leaping out to escape. They were quickly dropped by the archers and the unforgiving Hobbit finished them off.

The place was old. The once ornate stonework had weathered badly and broken pieces lay among the Orc mess on the floor of the open hall. Three arches separated the hall from a round antechamber that housed a shallow pool you could walk around. In the centre of the pool an ornate column of stonework had enough gaps and cracks to see that it was hollow. Up the middle of the column ran a shaft of the same liquid as in the pool. The carvings and motifs on the stonework here had some protection from the elements and I could see clouds, rain, lightning and the sun in the designs on the walls and the column.

We took time to search the walls of the hall and found several hidden stone doors. A network of corridors ran around the perimeter of the hall. Not a place you would want to navigate in the dark: one corridor had a deep pit that would slow anyone not familiar with these secret ways. The Hobbit had received a nasty gash from a sprung bolt as he tried to skirt the pit.

The other feature of the hall was the stairs, which were wide and had a mostly intact ornate stone balustrade. It looked like this was a main causeway; the steps were worn and the corridor heading south east was wide enough for three men to walk abreast. But the causeway was intentionally blocked with stone. Some appeared to be broken pieces of cut stone but mostly it was rock from the slopes of Backgammon’s peak, piled up to stop anyone getting in or out.

Patron had read out the chief Orc’s orders. Take the West Face. Signal every two days. Hold all entrances to the mountain. I surmised it was the Orcs that had blocked the causeway. But it was impossible to say whether they were intent on stopping things from going in or going out.