More Middle-earth housekeeping.

This is another brief post to let those interested know that I've gone back and expanded and revised even more of the earlier Middle-earth Roleplaying posts. New images have been added, and I wrote some new material to beef up the analyses and overviews, which were often pretty anemic in those early posts.

Gorgoroth

Weathertop, Tower of the Wind

Calenhad, a Beacon of Gondor

Lorien & the Halls of the Elven Smiths

Fortresses of Middle-earth: Halls of the Elven-King

Mirkwood

Ents of Fangorn

As always, feel free to let me know what you think, either as a comment, or by way of the email address located somewhere below my smirking mug to the right.

The Jewel of Seven Stars by Bram Stoker: A Review

Bram Stoker made his imprint on vampire lore with Dracula, and five years later, he made yet another imprint on another iconic type of undead: the mummy.

The 1903 novel The Jewel of Seven Stars follows the attempts to revive a five-thousand-year-old Egyptian queen. The story opens with London barrister Malcolm Ross receiving a late-night summons to the home of Margaret Trelawney. Margaret's father, an Egyptologist, is comatose, and an attempt has been made on his life, or so it seems. His house, and especially his vast bedroom, is a veritable museum, with Egyptian artifacts, from mummies to sarcophagi, making for a strange, sinister setting.

Dragged from his sickbed, his wrist mutilated in an attempt to remove a safe key he keeps on a bracelet, Trelawney is put back to bed and a round-the-clock vigil is kept on him. From there, the mystery deepens. Some of Trelawney's wounds seem to be made by a cat; Margaret owns a cat, but swears it was safely tucked away. An ancient mummified cat is in the room, but it clearly couldn't be the culprit...could it? Trelawney is dragged from his bed more than once, but who could be slipping in to do it? There are people all around, including Margaret, who always seems to be the first by her father's side. What causes otherwise vigilant watchers to drowse? A nurse falls into the same kind of coma as Mr. Trelawney - could it be caused by the mummification substances that infuse the mummy and its wrappings? Suddenly, a visitor appears, an old colleague of Mr. Trelawney, bringing lamps from the tomb of Queen Tera, an ancient Egyptian pharaoh far ahead of her time.

Eventually Trelawney rouses from his coma. From then, the plot quickens. Trelawney and his colleague have finally put together the items needed to revive the Queen from her five-thousand-year-old slumber. Much discussion is had about reincarnation, and it seems Margaret may well be the old Queen in new guise. Margaret's increasingly strange moods could hint at anything, from frayed nerves to the internal struggle between Margaret and Queen Tera.

Soon, everything in the house is packed up, lock, stock, and barrel, and moved to the Trelawney's seaside mansion. From there, Trelawney prepares a strange ritual in a cavern within the cliff. Something seems wrong, but Trelawney bulls ahead, unmindful of increasingly unsettling omens. Margaret's mood and demeanor changes moment by moment. It seems that Queen Tera reaches from beyond the grave to tell her tale, and to urge the ritual onward. Promises and vows are made. Yet, how much stock can be placed in what Margaret/Tera says? Her erratic behavior alarms Malcolm, but no one else seems to pay much attention.

The trappings of a classic Victorian-era tale are present. As mentioned, the house is full of Egyptian tomb furnishings, including sarcophagi and mummies. Trelawney has left detailed and ludicrously uninformative instructions behind. Servants quit as strange events unfold. Margaret and Malcolm experience instant and oh-so-chaste love at first sight, with soulful looks and sincere pledges of devotion aplenty. Doctors drop everything to make days-long house calls. Detectives arrive and bumble around. Pseudoscientific theories and spiritualist ideas are earnestly proposed, intermingled, and expounded upon. There is the old seaside mansion pummeled by a howling storm. There is even the classic "lights out" bit at a climactic moment. There is a definitely spooky atmosphere to it all.

 This book left me unsettled and baffled. For much of the book, the vast majority of it, in fact, it reads as a standard Victorian horror story. The quest to find the tomb of Queen Tera, an Egyptian monarch learned in sorcery and science, is related in tales told by characters, and leads up to turn-of-the-century London. Stoker's original ending, though, is startling and sudden, and is strikingly hopeless. A reprint in 1912 saw a revision of the book that changed it to a much happier ending. It's not clear if Stoker, who had been pressured to change the ending, wrote the newer conclusion, or if the publisher took matters into their own hands. Stoker was ill by that time, so it seems likely the new ending isn't by his hand. Regardless, that newer ending is far less memorable, even if it provides more of a conclusion to the story than the original. Neither ending really resolves many of the questions posed by the plot, though that isn't necessarily a bad thing. The main question left unanswered is: what was Queen Tera's motivation? Dracula had a more straightforward agenda: direct, unsubtle, easy to grasp. Queen Tera is much more inscrutable in her plans, which stretch across five millennia. This mystery provides much of the depth to the story, and lends a chill to the ending. The questions that I still turn over in my mind show the power of the book, and especially its ending.

I've seen some mention of this book as the source for the 1932 Boris Karloff movie The Mummy. It really isn't, though there are a few elements that are familiar between the two. Apparently there have been screen adaptations of this book, though I haven't seen them as of this writing. The way the book ends would not translate well to a film, I believe, or at least it would not have the same impact as the book.

There is a lot to like about The Jewel of Seven Stars. There are also flaws: it starts slowly, and only really builds momentum around the last third of the book. A couple of characters make decisions that seem out-of-character and make no sense. However, when all the pieces begin to fall into place, there is an air of fate to the proceedings, an inevitability to the conclusion, that seems to suddenly gallop upon the reader, leaving them shaken and wondering. To me, that's a sign of a good horror story.

A bit of housekeeping: updates to a few posts.

This is a quick post to let those interested know that over the past couple of weeks I went back and rewrote and expanded a few posts in the Middle-earth Roleplaying series I've been doing. Specifically, they include:

Havens of Gondor

Mount Gundabad

and

Lost Realm of Cardolan

I did this to try to bring all the Middle-earth Roleplaying posts in line, and make them all as substantive as the others in the series. The earlier posts, in particular, gave short shrift to their subjects, and since those were among my favorites, I felt some revision was in order. I also added pictures and maps to them, too. I'll be revising others in the series along the same lines in the coming weeks, so my foray into southern Middle-earth will come after I take care of getting everything that came before all gussied-up, and after taking a short break from the Middle-earth stuff to post about a few other things.

Pirates of Pelargir

Pelargir and Umbar dueled on the high seas, another theater in the millennia-long war against Sauron. Between those two mighty ports lay a lot of water and land that was disputed as the fortunes of one rival power or the other rose or fell. The seemingly endless battle between Gondor and Umbar would have allowed for opportunists to prey on both sides as merchants traveled into lands and waters that changed hands on a regular basis.

The maritime regions of, and between, Gondor and Umbar.

This is a solid little book of adventures for the Middle-earth Roleplaying game. My guess is that the adventures that comprise it were once used for tournament games. I say that for a few reasons. One, the adventures themselves are straightforward: guard a merchant vessel owned by a merchant from Pelargir as it travels South; track down the lair of pirates and bandits plaguing the region between Pelargir and Umbar; and root out the pirates in their base. Two, the adventures are not intricately linked, but it's obvious how one could lead to another. Such adventures usually are designed so that players can have a full experience even if they only play one or two of the adventures in a tournament series. That is, each has a self-contained "story," such as it is, that does not leave a gamer hanging if he or she doesn't play the next one. And three, there are characters ready-made for the players for each adventure. Pre-generated characters, or pre-gens as gamers usually call them, are often a sure sign of a tournament module. Due to the limited amount of time a tournament, usually being run at a game convention, has to play out each round, the process of creating a character from scratch has to be dispensed with. In addition, tournaments usually don't allow homemade characters, as home games vary too widely, and a character from one may be too powerful or too weak for a given tournament adventure, or in comparison to other characters. So I'm pretty confident in my guess as to the origins of this book.

There is a lot of emphasis on the characters in this book, more so than for most such books. There is a substantial amount of background material given each character the players may use, as well as for several non-player characters. This is unusual, especially the assumption that the players will not be using characters of their own creation. I suppose this is part of the "ready-to-run" nature of these adventures, as touted by Iron Crown Enterprises on the cover.

A few of the characters described in Pirates of Pelargir.

The assault on the pirates' base is the most substantial part of the adventure, as far as being detailed in this book. It's a classic "storming the castle" type of adventure. The game master, the person who sets up and describes the situation for the other players, would do well to read through this section closely. That's so they can act and react as the characters run by players invade this or that section of the fortress area, and have the bad guys react in a logical way, rather than standing around as the next room over, and its inhabitants, is trashed.

Part of the pirates' lair.

Pirates of Pelargir is a good, serviceable book. Like many MERP books, it can be easily adapted for another game. It's handsome, with yet another dynamic cover by Angus McBride, and interior character illustrations by the always-welcome Jim Holloway. The maps are well-done, but not the spectacular kind done by Peter Fenlon.

Oh, and Pirates of Pelargir is a bit of misnomer. Pelargir is not the home port for the pirates, and it is never really threatened. The title is a nice bit of alliteration, though, so I won't give it too hard a time on this.

For now we see through a glass, darkly: Umbar, Haven of the Corsairs

Its name means "fate" in the language of the High Elves. A great seaport and mighty fortress, it was the base for the great Men of the West to launch their attack upon and subsequent humbling of Sauron. When Numenor was dashed beneath the ocean and the king who had forced Sauron to surrender was brought low, Umbar remained in the hands of those loyal to that great, corrupted king. Umbar would remain as a reminder both of the greatness of the Dunedain, and the evil that had brought their ruin.

It's clear that Umbar is one of the great cities of Middle-earth. Built by the Numenoreans at the height of their power, it predates the founding of Gondor by centuries. Given that, Umbar had the potential to be a center of culture in its world; unfortunately, the taint of Sauron's evil lingered within it for centuries, making it a base for strife and destruction against the forces of good that remained in Middle-earth.

Compared to Mordor, Umbar was a thorn in Gondor's side. At times, though, it was like a dagger to that realm's back, poised to strike at the times Gondor could least afford the distraction. Fortunately, some still remained in Middle-earth who were vigilant enough to see the potential for great harm Umbar contained. One of those was Aragorn, the heir to the kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor. Taking on the name of Thorongil, he led Gondor's navy to demolish Umbar's fleet and shipyards, allowing Gondor to have decades to focus on the growing shadow in Mordor.

Umbar and its lands were home to the Black Numenoreans, the "King's Men" who still held onto the evil aspirations of Ar-Pharazon, the last king of Numenor. Jealous of and unfriendly to Elves, because those beings had the immortality the Numenoreans so desired, and filled with a fatal arrogance, the people of Umbar would have been intolerant and condescending, seeking to subjugate those they felt were beneath them. Their brethren to the north in Gondor and Arnor would be natural enemies, in the eyes of the lords of Umbar mere pretenders to greatness, rebels and usurpers of an empire they never made.

While Tolkien never stated it outright that I know of, Umbar was likely the home of at least some of the Ringwraiths, especially their chief, the Witch-King, as well as the Mouth of Sauron. The Numenoreans of old had been led into evil because they feared death, and Sauron's lies led them to invade the Undying Lands...where they were promptly destroyed by Eru, the creator of all things. This obsessive desire for immortality was undoubtedly part of the temptation of the Nine Rings Sauron offered to the kings of Men. This desire no doubt drove the man who became known as the Mouth of Sauron; ancient, so old that he'd forgotten his real name, using dark sorceries taught by Sauron to extend his life unnaturally, he epitomized how far the Numenoreans had fallen.

Such were the Men who lived in Umbar, and one can extrapolate that much of the culture in Umbar revolves around death and the pursuit of longer life. The utter destruction of Ar-Pharazon and his armies, as well as the entire continent of Numenor, must have had an even more horrifying effect on those who survived. The Faithful who founded Arnor and Gondor understood that immortality was not for them, that death really was the beginning of a new existence beyond the bounds of the world. For them, at least, and in that single way, they had a peace of mind their brethren in Umbar would never attain. For the remnant of Numenoreans who held Umbar, their only recourse would be to cleave even closer to Sauron, for only he offered any hope of escaping the death they saw as a punishment. This may have been especially true after there was ample evidence that they were damned...or, at least it would seem that way to them.

In some ways, then, the Men of Umbar can almost be pitied. There is a hopelessness to their existence. All choices were cast away by them long ago. Their empire was smashed from existence in a show of force that conclusively proved they were not on the side of right. Their remaining kin in Middle-earth were great friends of the hated Elves, and for a while the fortunes of those kin waxed to fullness as lords of Middle-earth, overshadowing once-great Umbar. Still, they chose a path that could only result in their own endless corruption. It's difficult to sympathize with that.

All that is my own interpretation of Umbar, based on my own reading of Tolkien. Given all that possibility for drama and intrigue, this Middle-earth Roleplaying book dealing with Umbar also has potential...but it doesn't really live up to that potential. Right off, I can say that this book doesn't have the space to truly delve into the potential of Umbar. Out of 52 pages, 9 1/2 are devoted to general information about the game and Middle-earth.

That said, the material that is here - in small, close-set type - is packed in tight. There are essays devoted to the climate, ecology, culture, military, and history of Umbar. The book is ostensibly a snapshot of the city and its environs in 1607 of the Third Age, but I think it could easily be tweaked to show Umbar of the late Third Age, when Sauron has returned and Aragorn is afield. In fact, there is a brief section at the end of the book about Umbar at other times that provides some ideas about how the city changes through time.

The region of Harad controlled by Umbar. The city is in the northeast corner of the map.

Umbar, as presented in this book, may be the closest to a typical fantasy roleplaying game city than anything else published in Iron Crown Enterprise's MERP line. There are various guilds that will be familiar to fantasy RPG players: thieves, wizards, merchants, and healers are the best examples. Smugglers, city guards, and armorers all have their own organizations, as well. A good bit of space is devoted to sailing, as Umbar is a sea power, of course. Ominously, a dark religion based on worship of Sauron is given some discussion. There are a few good-hearted folk in Umbar, hoping to stem the tide of darkness and bring the city back into the light. Above all, the Captains of the Havens rule Umbar.

Three of the ruling Captains of the Havens.

The remaining Captains of the Havens.

 All these factions work with and against each other, and intrigue is constant. It's the most interesting city put together for MERP; Tharbad comes a fairly distant second. Umbar has been corrupted too deeply and long for anything short of cities within Mordor itself to compare to its dangerous nature.

This is an early MERP book. The line had yet to hit its stride. Gail B. McIntosh's cover is good, but not as nice as her later covers for the Middle-earth Roleplaying line. Peter Fenlon's map of the Umbar region is not quite as sharp as his later maps, but it is still pretty. The castle and city maps were by others, and while serviceable, are not very inspiring.

Map of the city of Umbar. Not as sprawling and large as I would imagine such an ancient, important, continuously-inhabited city to be. Still, it's a usable map.

 The book's organization is not the best; for example, details about the Captains of the Havens can be found in at least three places. It would have been better had all that detail been consolidated into one single section. The artwork is sparse, and shows true talent, but there isn't enough of it, and not enough variety in what there is, for it to really bolster the writing. Still, despite all this, you can see the structure that would define MERP books soon after.

This was my least favorite of the major MERP sourcebooks. It never gelled for me, never really evoked a sense of place. As with many other MERP books, a closer reading really changed my assessment. Umbar, Havens of the Corsairs details a colorful, interesting region of Middle-earth. It extrapolates from what Tolkien wrote pretty well. With some work and close reading, this book would be a good resource for a game set in Middle-earth. For that matter, given Umbar's isolated location, it could be plugged into another setting, in a coastal, desert region. One has to meet the material halfway, but it's there, and worth the effort.

The Fiftieth Post, wherein I ruminate on the past and the future.

So, I've finally reached fifty posts to this blog, after an initial start-and-stop beginning that lasted the better part of two years. Finally getting into the groove of posting regularly has created momentum, and the blog has now taken on a life of its own. I'm usually planning three or four posts ahead, researching and gathering materials. The writing of each post, at least the recent ones, takes me a while, and I haven't yet gotten used to the notion of writing briefer posts to bridge the gap. I've tried it, and I'll continue to try, but, like everything else, it'll take time. I also need to apologize to my friends who aren't gamers, as the blog has become very game-centric; that wasn't the intention. Still, I hope you all stick with it, or at least keep subscribed, because I hope to expand the scope eventually. For now and into the near future, though, the game stuff helps me generate content.

The current Middle-earth Roleplaying (MERP) series of posts I've been doing has helped give the blog structure. I hadn't seen much in the way of coverage of this game line when I started, though since then I've run across a few other blogs which have addressed it. I still have a ways to go before I'm finished, at least with the MERP books I actually own; there are quite a few I don't own, and which are too hard to find or too expensive for me to bother with tracking down. As it is, what I do have provides a fairly comprehensive overview of Middle-earth, including parts Tolkien never spent much time on. Still to come, as of this writing, are the southern regions of Middle-earth, as well as massive Moria, which will be the subject of a huge blog post or two. Or three. I'll also be covering Decipher's Lord of the Rings Roleplaying Game, too, as I think it's worthwhile to include it in the project. In addition, I'll be expanding upon my original Some thoughts on the running of a Fourth Age Middle Earth game campaign post, because I've had some more thoughts on the subject as a result of looking closely at the MERP books again. I need to locate, dust off, and rewrite my old Ruins of Barad-dur notes, too, which directly deal with the aftermath of the fall of Sauron and what he left behind. Yeah, I know, my non-gamer people will have their eyes glazing over in advance.

I also wanted to mention, and had to edit this post to add, that I plan on going back and expanding and, in some cases, rewriting some of my past posts. I wanted to bring all of them up to the same standards I've set over the course of time. Don't like a post and think it didn't cover the subject too well? Check back over time and I may have revised it. Or, drop me a note or comment and let me know what you think needs fixin.'

Anyway, this was a bit of a breather for me, a way to pause and say hey, thanks for reading, and to give you some idea of what I have planned. Any thoughts or suggestions are always welcome, Middle-earth-related or not. I wanted to commemorate fifty posts, but not make a big deal of it, after seeing some blogs with hundreds of posts.

Over the bounding main in Middle-earth: Sea-Lords of Gondor - Palargir and Lebennin

The Dunedain were mighty mariners, ruling the waves of Middle-earth. This is only natural, as they were given an island nation as a home - Numenor. From this star-shaped land, they plied the seas, colonizing Middle-earth at will, building great realms, and throwing back Sauron's shadow wherever they went. This power led to their downfall, as they dared to invade the Undying Lands in order to claim immortality for themselves. Yet their seamanship was also their salvation, as the Faithful, those who refused to adhere to the folly of their brethren, escaped by way of a small fleet of ships the utter destruction of Numenor as it was drowned beneath the sea. They remained great sailors, with Gondor a great sea power throughout its history, bedeviled by Black Numenoreans, the remainder of the arrogantly evil Dunedain who escaped the destruction of their island-nation and founded their own sea-focused realms in Umbar and further South.

The Havens of Gondor was a portion of Gondor's seagoing strength, but further south lay Lebennin, a beautiful land which held the greatest of Gondor's ports - Pelargir. Closer to Umbar, it seems natural that naval power would be a focus of the region. Gondor dueled with Umbar for centuries, fending off many sea invasions and mounting attacks against a foe which was a dark reflection of itself. Pelargir, a great haven of the Numenoreans, was the chief base for Gondor's defense of its southern ocean approaches.

This book covers the mighty port of Pelargir, which means "Garth of Royal Ships." What's a garth, you ask? Basically, a shipyard, at least in this context. So, just by the name we know this is both the main port and shipbuilding center of Gondor. Well, we can infer it.

Also covered is Lebennin, referred to as Fair Lebennin of the Five Streams; Lebennin means "five waters" in the language of the Sindarin Elves. This echoes the Land of Five Rivers, which is the Punjab region in the real world. I don't know if Tolkien meant any connection there, though I tend to doubt it. Since this is a game book, and subject to the whims of the individual gamer, trying to make a connection might lend some depth and interest to the area.

As with most MERP books, Sea-Lords of Gondor has a historical timeline and overviews of the climate, cultures, creatures, and geography of the region. Well-watered, generally mild, civilized, and densely-populated (relatively speaking), Lebennin and Pelargir, as described in this book, remind me a bit of San Diego with more access to fresh water. As with Dor-en-Ernil, characters are unlikely to find much sword-swinging adventure here...in most eras.

Pelargir has the distinction of being where the Kin-Strife began. This is the period when some of the seaside provinces of Gondor rebelled against what they perceived as favoritism towards Northmen and the inner lands of Gondor. Castamir the Usurper, lord of Gondor's navy, seized the throne, driving away king Eldacar and executing his son.

Liz Danforth's portrait reveals nobility and humanity in one of the most divisive and hated figures in Gondor's history. It's an interesting portrayal.

After a decade of ruling Gondor, Castamir was slain by Eldacar, and the sons of Castamir, with his forces, fled South, seizing Umbar. Thus, the centuries-old enmity between Umbar and Gondor, specifically Pelargir, was not only reinforced, but made more immediate. This would continue for centuries, with Aragorn himself responsible for destroying Umbar's forces not once, but twice, and eventually conquering the haven of evil once and for all, thus bringing to an end the saga of the Kin-Strife once and for all.

The rivalry and jealousy between Umbar and Pelargir provides a great hook for adventures in Middle-earth. Spying, piracy, direct combat, sorcery, and agents of Sauron himself can be found in Umbar. Pelargir itself, as well as the entire coast of Lebennin, is attacked by Umbar often, especially during the War of the Ring. Much of Gondor's strength in the coastal regions was tied down defending against corsair invasions from Umbar, and could not be sent to defend Minas Tirith when Sauron sent his armies to finally attack that great city. Players could find their characters working to stave off invaders, or making preemptive strikes to stall Umbar's depredations so forces could be freed up to help Gondor's capital. The entire region, during most any era, could be the site of adventures.

A number of sites are detailed in this book. Oddly, Pelargir, despite being such a major city, is given just a little over two pages of fairly cursory attention. Maybe Iron Crown Enterprises had planned on a book devoted to just Pelargir itself, much as they did with Minas Tirith.This book has an appealing, good-sized map of the city, with a numbered key to sites within it, but as I noted, it's pretty sparse in detail.

There are a few towns discussed with a couple of paragraphs' worth of detail, some stronghold areas, and ancient burial sites for Dunlendings. Tolfalas, a large island off the coast which is only sparsely inhabited, is discussed, and it has potential for mysterious exploration. Subject to constant raiding and wild weather, Tolfalas is remote enough to discourage all but a handful of hardy souls from living there, and few others come to explore its hills and ruins.

Belfalas to the West (covered in Havens of Gondor), and the wild, largely empty island of Tolfalas central and to the South. To the northeast lies Pelargir.

It's a varied assortment of sites, though, to be blunt, a bit on the dull side. Still, there's a solid core of material to work with, and any gamemaster worth his salt can use it to create a wide spectrum of adventures.

Interestingly, and unique to the MERP books with which I'm familiar, Sea-Lords of Gondor also has a section concerning ships and ship combat in the game. It's a basic sea-warfare game, and includes statistics for several ships, including those of Gondor and its foes. It's not the most inspiring game, but it will do for those who are more focused on characters rather than ships.

The art is fairly notable in this book. Most obviously, the cover image by the redoubtable Angus McBride is a dynamic seaborne battle between a warrior of Gondor and a warrior of Umbar. You can just tell that the deck pitches and rolls beneath them, as battle swirls all around in a clash of steel and wood. The interior is dominated by maps. The Pelargir map by Jessica Ney is clear and usable, and Peter Fenlon's maps are outstanding, as usual.

This is a great depiction of the portion of Gondor closest to the shadowy land of Mordor, with Minas Tirith north and center, and Pelargir to the southwest.

Besides the maps, illustrations are sparse, but they're by the always-talented Liz Danforth. The picture of Castamir above is my favorite in the book, and one of my favorite character pictures by Danforth. A nice assortment of illustrations, but I was left feeling that I didn't have a really good idea of the "look" of the region and its folk.

This is a good, solid entry in the Middle-earth Roleplaying line, though I feel it's a bit bland. Lebennin and Pelargir seem, based on the history of the place Tolkien created, to be full of exciting potential, but that is not close to fully realized here. Still, it's a good start, and a nice reference.

Proto-Steampunk: Morlock Night by K.W. Jeter

The Time Machine by H.G. Wells opened up a world of possibility, both narratively and generically. One of the establishing texts of science fiction as a genre, it still has power, and still fires imaginations. Not only did it help inspire a genre, it also inspired sequels by other authors, some long decades after it was first published. Morlock Night is one of those sequels. First published in 1979, it presages the Steampunk genre, though it's not quite Steampunk itself. Jeter himself is credited with coining the term, so this book's role in the development of that genre is obvious.

K.W. Jeter's book is an immediate sequel to The Time Machine, the action starting as Wells' book ends and the time traveler's guests disperse into the night. The protagonist of Morlock Night is one of those guests, mentioned and described in the narrative in passing. Jeter doesn't delay the proceedings; his protagonist is quickly plunged into a nightmarish adventure instigated by a mysterious and sinister man, happened upon in a night-cloaked street.

The pacing is brisk, to say the least. The protagonist - Jeter does decide to give him a proper name, Edwin Hocker, unlike Wells, who chose to keep his hero anonymous - finds himself descending without warning into a hellish landscape. His bewilderment keeps him off-balance through a good bit of the book, though his resilience and bluster combine to carry him through. The story rarely slows down, and Hocker finds himself falling from frying pan into a succession of fires, rarely able to catch his balance.

As you might guess from the title, the Morlocks of Wells' dystopic future figure into the plot. Jeter takes a few logical liberties with the degenerate descendants of humans, otherwise he might not have had much of a story. I don't think this jibes too well with Wells' vision of the creatures, but it's a fun interpretation.

Jeter conjures up three different Londons, the Victorian metropolis of Wells, an embattled ruin decades later, and the idyllic parkland the original Time Traveller found in his foray deep into the distant future. His Victorian London is the most fully realized, but much of the action takes place under it.

From here on, there will be spoilers.

I was surprised that Jeter brought Arthurian legend into the narrative. There's nothing wrong with that, it just wasn't the direction I expected the story to go in. There is a cleverness to his concept of Excalibur being a "sum total," so that when Merdenne - the evil counterpart/twin/dark side to Merlin, called Dr. Ambrose here - steals the sword from three different points in time, each sword is only a quarter of the original blade's power. It's an ingenious plot driver.

Merlin/Dr. Ambrose and Merdenne remain ciphers, which seems fitting for wizards. I got the feeling this was a brief glimpse into an age-old game of cat-and-mouse and one-upsmanship, where the balance of power has shifted countless times.

Jeter's use of the trope of Arthur as the hero for England who appears at need is familiar and touching. This treatment of the concept reminds me a lot of Michael Moorcock's Eternal Champion. If you like this book, then you might want to look into Moorcock's bibliography. The concept isn't unique to Moorcock, of course, but I think he has to be the author who's dealt with it more extensively than any other writer you could care to name.

There are problems with the book that may not be problems to some. The brevity of the book and the speed of the plot leaves a lot undeveloped. Perhaps the most glaring example is when Hocker acquires an ally in the ruined London he visits early in the book, a woman named Tafe. She is left undeveloped as a character, though she accompanies him through all his adventures. She never quite comes to life, in my opinion. The Morlocks are left only partly developed, also, and Jeter seems to portray them as something like World War II-era German military personnel with the sensibilities of the Three Stooges. That portrayal goes a bit too far afield from Wells' creations for my taste, but in such a brief book Jeter used broad strokes to paint his characters.

There are other, more prosaic, problems with the book. Foremost to me is that the book is riddled with typos. That's not Jeter's fault, of course, and it mars what is otherwise a handsome paperback.

There are a number of nifty details that Jeter uses to give texture to his book. The toshers, the folk who delve into London's ancient, labyrinthine sewer system, are a fascinating bit of history. The toshes they seek are caches of valuables deposited in nooks and crevices of the underworld, with the Grand Tosh being the semi-mythical, but ever-elusive (and illusive, perhaps) conglomeration of treasures from across the ages. The Lost Coin Kingdom is an evocative name for another legendary bit of the tapestry of the sewers, a civilization of subterranean dwellers who may be an uncomfortable glimpse into the future. I wonder if it may be a reference to the Parable of the Lost Coin, though, if it is, it's a little beyond me. Plus, Jeter almost casually tosses in tantalizing references to Atlantis. All these bits and pieces left me wanting to know more.

 Overall, this is a fun, though slight, book. It covers a lot of ground, and is a bit of whirlwind of colorful detail. It's surprisingly somber at the end, and my lingering impression is that it is a sliver of a larger story, a brief moment in a much bigger tale, caught for a moment like a tableau in a flash of lightning. I was left wanting more, and that's a good thing.

Southeast and under: Erech and the Paths of the Dead

They are the shades of the restless dead forever waiting in the endless dark, the silent passages beneath mountains their prison until they uphold a pledge broken long ago. They are the ghostly memories of a cursed folk, fated to extinction by an act of betrayal. They are the Oathbreakers, the Dead Men of Dunharrow.

From Angmar, I'll now leap to the southeast, to Rohan again, and the mountains upon which the capital city of the Rohirrim, Edoras, is anchored. Under the mountains lie subterranean passages into Gondor itself: the Paths of the Dead. The Paths pass beneath the Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains, which lie between Rohan and Gondor, and contain the tombs and forgotten cities of a mountain folk culture that is, by the time of Aragorn's passage through the Paths, a distant memory. These folk haunt the region, giving it a foreboding air. It's an interesting, and spooky, realm, right in the heart of the lands of the Free People of Middle-earth.

More gorgeous maps by Peter Fenlon.

On the southern side of the White Mountains is the Hill of Erech.

A huge stone, called the Stone of Erech, or the Black Stone, taller than a Man, is set in place there. In this Middle-earth Roleplaying book, it's portrayed as something like a limited-power palantir, though there isn't anything from Tolkien that I recall reading to indicate this to be so. It's not a bad extrapolation, though, given that it's apparently spherical - or at least, that's how I always pictured it when reading The Lord of the Rings - and held in high esteem by the Dunedain, much as the palantiri were. After all, the Black Stone was hauled from Numenor when that land was destroyed, which had to be a tough undertaking, given the limited freight-hauling capacity I would assume the Faithful Dunedain had when they fled the sinking of that island. Whatever properties the Stone of Erech possessed, it was considered holy enough for powerful oaths to be sworn upon it, most importantly the Oath sworn by the King of the Mountain, swearing that the Men of the Mountains would aid Gondor at need. The Men of the Mountains broke that oath when called to help during the War of the Last Alliance. They were cursed even in death to wait until called again. It took over 3000 years for that call to come, when Aragorn came to claim his heritage in the South.

That's a lot of history for an area of Middle-earth that isn't focused on too much in The Lord of the Rings, and only rates treatment in a 40-page MERP book. Still, it's a pivotal place in the narrative, setting up Aragorn's deus ex machina later on. Plus, in terms of a roleplaying game, Erech and the Paths of the Dead is almost perfect for a game about adventurers looking for danger and treasure, because there is plenty of both to be had here, what with underground passages full of kingly tombs and long-abandoned cities running for miles under a mountain range.

This book gives an overview of the region, from the valley in the northern side of the White Mountains Rohan used as a refuge, where the Dark Door into the Paths of Dead let into the haunted underworld, to the Hill of Erech and its surroundings, including a town and fortress, and the Morthond River that leads into Gondor.

It's actually a really good roleplaying setting, with adventure sites readily accessible and just waiting to be delved into. I mean, it's a whole civilization of the dead, just sitting there, waiting for adventurers to blunder in and get themselves killed or scared half to death.

Evil folk skulking about and doing their evil thing.

Of course, as with most MERP books, Iron Crown Enterprises goes beyond the most obvious adventure site. It covers the mountains and valleys also, providing a rundown of fauna and flora, as well as intelligent races like Men and Elves, maybe a few Dwarves, as well as Trolls. It seems incredibly unlikely that Orcs would be in the area, given that this is smack-dab in the middle of a region long settled by Gondor, and later held by both it and Rohan. Still, it's possible, I suppose, especially after Saruman's fall to evil, that Orcs could be skulking around the area, though not in great numbers.

Orcs do show up on the inevitable Master Encounter chart, which also accompanies the equally inevitable slate of charts that are so much a part of MERP: Master Beast Chart, Master N(on)P(layer)C(haracter) Chart, and the Master Military Chart.

There is a town - there's always a town - called Sarn Erech, and a fortress called Morthondost, where the characters belonging to the players can rest up, get equipped, and engage in political intrigue, if so inclined. It's not likely that much swordplay will occur in any of these more settled places, but they are positioned so as to give a good jumping-off point for forays into and under the mountains. It's a good, solid base of operations and living area for player characters, though not terribly unique, as these things go. It's nicely integrated into the setting, though, and doesn't seem simply tacked on.

The real draw here are the Paths of the Dead themselves. As you might guess, they're teeming with undead, from ghouls (analogous to zombies in most other roleplaying games) to ghosts (the terrifying, though incorporeal, undead that seemed to make up the bulk of the Dead Tolkien wrote about). In addition, there are some nifty extrapolations of "Pukel-men," the stone-carved figures found in Rohan and other places lived in by Wood-woses and Dunlendings. Here, they are tomb and temple guardians, some more able than others to back up their foreboding appearances. There are also other stone carvings, which seem largely like near-to-abstract religious or cultural designs.

Some may just be symbolic decoration...

...or, perhaps, warning signs.

The Paths are fraught with dangers, and players may end up losing quite a few characters here. That seems fine to me.

Typical.

The only complication here is the nature of the Paths of the Dead, and how it relates to using the site in other time periods. Specifically, after Aragorn's passage and the final fulfilling of the Oath that the Dead broke so long ago, the implication is, obviously, that the Paths are finally left unhaunted in the Fourth Age. It makes for a nice narrative bow on the end of the tale of the Dead Men, but it leaves the place a bit empty for the purposes of adventurers. One could rationalize that some of the Dead remain, perhaps those who once again refused the fulfilling of their Oath - after all, when Aragorn arrives, Gondor teeters on the brink of annihilation. Even a ghost might quail at the thought of having crossed Sauron in his final victory. One could also suppose that some tattered remnant of the Dark Lord's forces fled into the Paths as a final refuge, somehow slipping in or fighting their way into the passages. It's unlikely, but possible.

This is another Middle-earth Roleplaying book that has benefited from the closer look I've given it due to this blog project. It had always seemed a bit bland to me, too similar to many other such game books, whether for something like Dungeons & Dragons or MERP itself. However, my closer look this time reveals a moodier, almost Gothic feel to the place, a haunted valley in the midst of civilization, an ancient curse that lingers dimly, waiting to be lifted. The climate described in the book seems appropriate - rainy and chilly, with storms wracking the mountains. If Hammer Films made a Middle-earth movie, this is where it would be set.

Darkness in the North: Angmar, Land of the Witch-King

I've written of lost and forgotten kingdoms in Middle-earth, the lands they once occupied empty, with once mighty fortresses and elegant cities now rubble and ruin. Now, I'll turn to the reason behind their demise: Angmar.

Two books deal with this realm, Angmar: Land of the Witch-King,

and Empire of the Witch-King.

The latter is a revision and expansion of the former.

Angmar was an empire created with one purpose: the destruction of what remained of the northern kingdom of Arnor. While Gondor in the South prospered, Arnor, the northern realm of the Dunedain, had already fragmented into three lesser kingdoms due to the quarreling heirs of King Earendur. These three kingdoms were named Arthedain, Cardolan, and Rhudaur. For a few centuries they existed thus, nominally allied, often arguing, sometimes warring amongst themselves. They slowly but steadily declined due to this divisiveness. Eventually, Sauron decided to hasten their collective ends, and sent the greatest of his lieutenants, the Witch-King, to accomplish this mission. Slowly, and with the implacability only possible in one who is immortal, the Witch-King of Angmar worked for centuries to destroy what was left of the Dunedain in the North.

Rhudaur was subverted and became a vassal of the Witch-King. Cardolan, never as powerful as Arthedain, bore much of the brunt of Rhudaur's and Angmar's evil, eventually falling, with the Elves intervening to save Arthedain and push Angmar's forces back. Arthedain hung on for centuries, finally falling to Angmar about a thousand years before the time of Bilbo Baggins. The forces of Gondor and the Elves arrived only in time to demolish Angmar once and for all. But, Angmar had accomplished its purpose. The Witch-King fled, fated never to fall to the hand of a living man.

The Witch-King, posing dramatically.

There isn't much known about Angmar itself, as Tolkien didn't describe it too greatly. The Witch-King's forces were Orcs and Men, and, presumably, Trolls and assorted other dark creatures, maybe even Dragons, given Angmar's relative proximity to the Withered Heath, a stomping ground for Dragons. That might be pushing it, though. Angmar's location suggests it to be a cold, relatively barren land. Angmar had to have some resources and farming capability to support the Witch-King's armies, though it may have benefited greatly in terms of resources from the addition of Rhudaur to its empire. Angmar did have a capital, Carn Dum, which I would assume was a fortress-city. Beyond that, everything else is a guess.

So, all that is why Iron Crown Enterprises (ICE) had a lot of leeway when detailing Angmar for its Middle-earth Roleplaying sourcebooks Angmar: Land of the Witch-King, and the later, revised and expanded Empire of the Witch-King. In addition, Angmar is an isolated, out-of the-way place, not really bordering any of the well-known places in Middle-earth, and tucked away in a stretch of history not that well-known to the average fan of Middle-earth. That makes these books easily usable in other games or settings as a plug-and-play evil fantasy empire. As Middle-earth resources, there isn't a lot here for anyone looking for direct-from-Tolkien info, but they're pretty meaty as generic game books.

Both books have a lot of information regarding the terrain, weather, flora, and fauna of the region. Empire of the Witch-King, the later and larger book, expands, naturally enough, on this information greatly, where Angmar: Land of the Witch-King concentrates more on fortresses and settlements. Empire of the Witch-King has this material, too, and even expands on it with cultural and military information.

Given its nature and reason for existing, a lot of military detail is given for Angmar. Unit composition, siege engines, bases, and chain of command are detailed. Related to this is a discussion of religion in Angmar. Tolkien rarely mentioned any kind of religion in his Middle-earth works, with a few oblique references in The Silmarillion to dark rituals among the corrupted Dunedain of Westernesse. Here, the MERP writers and designers construct a cult for the Dark Lord himself, which helps give structure and fervency to the Witch-King's followers. The impression is that Angmar's military is the backbone of Angmar's society, with everything focused on it.

Assorted ne'er-do-wells in the forces of the Witch-King.

And orcs. There are always orcs.

The writers of these books also devise some interesting encounters in Angmar for the characters belonging to players to encounter. There are various settlements and fortresses, of course, from human towns to Orcish villages. I was particularly interested in a partially subterranean Orc village, which is reminiscent of a Hobbit settlement, at least to my eyes.

In addition, there are isolated towers with dread magical secrets, Orc-infested mines, Elven scouts living in ruins, and even a safe haven or two. It all makes Angmar much more interesting as a place to explore and adventure than I would have initially thought.

An odd and mysterious tower in the mountains near Angmar.

Oddly enough, at least to me, there is a section on languages. There is a discussion of how the various factions and races of the Witch-King's servants communicate, given their disparate languages. Plus, there's a fairly extensive glossary of Orc words. I'm not particularly interested in such things, since I'd just as soon reference Tolkien directly, or one of the various books and websites that detail such things. Still, it may be an interesting resource for others.

There are some other sections not seen in other MERP books. There are brief sections on creating priest and Orc characters, which provide interesting alternatives for players. There are also brief overviews of how to go about designing fortresses and settlements in Angmar, which may be a bit elementary for some, but could jog a few ideas loose. Nothing spectacular, but different enough to add some interest to the book.

As is usual, there are charts. There are charts of animals, monsters, and characters that may be encountered. There are military unit encounter tables. There is a page or so of "medicinal" plants and drugs in the region. There is a table for determining weather at a particular time. Charts and tables were a hallmark of Rolemaster, the roleplaying game from which MERP is derived, to the point that some gamers still refer to Rolemaster derisively as "Chartmaster." MERP is nowhere near as dependent on them as Rolemaster, and in recent years I've come to appreciate them for how they help make the job of running MERP, and a game in Middle-earth in general, a bit easier.

The art in either book is, unfortunately, unspectacular. There is some obvious talent here; Jim Holloway, one of my favorite game artists, and whom I've mentioned a few times, has his art all over the interior of Empire of the Witch King. His usual tongue-in-cheek style is not in evidence here, which makes sense, given the subject. Still, while it all definitely helps bring the setting to life, none of it jumps off the page at me. There are some fairly nifty spot illustrations in the earlier Angmar: Land of the Witch King, though they are few and far between.

A reasonable depiction of a Ringwraith, I assume the Witch-King, on a Fell Beast.

I can't help it; this just amuses me.

The maps are, unsurprisingly, pretty good, though some in Angmar are rather basic and uninspiring. However, Peter Fenlon's maps in Empire of the Witch-King are spectacular, as always. I wanted to show this map in its entirety, but to do so I have to make it tiny. Trust me, though; it's very detailed and gorgeous.

The covers are both top-notch, though Gail B. McIntosh's cover for Angmar, while technically good, doesn't grab me. The cover of Empire of the Witch-King, by Richard Hook, an artist I don't recall seeing work on any other MERP book, is actually a very cool cover, with astonishing detail. Not sure what the Witch-King is doing with his sword there, but it does lend the picture a snapshot quality.

Empire of the Witch-King is the second most substantial of the MERP books I've posted about here so far (after Gorgoroth), weighing in at 126 pages. Angmar: Land of the Witch-King is 48 pages long, so its revision was a substantial one. Compared to most of the other MERP books, Angmar: Land of the Witch-King seems a bit thin to me. Empire of the Witch-King seems jam-packed, even taking into consideration that it has 58 additional pages.

These books evoke a mood and feel that isn't quite what I expected. Angmar is an interesting place as described, but it doesn't seem nearly as dread and horrifying as one might expect. As I thought about it, this makes some sense. It did not have the history of being the home of ultimate evil in Middle-earth as Mordor did. Mordor had been under Sauron's direct control for millennia, and his essence infused the land such that a memory of his evil lingered long centuries after his defeat at the end of the Second Age. Angmar, though, was more of an ad hoc evil empire, created from scratch and without the resources of evil found in Mordor (though these books have the Witch-King bringing along at least one of his and Sauron's lieutenants, the Angulion, who also appears in Gorgoroth). The Witch-King seemingly cobbled together his forces from what he found in the area, rather than bringing forces with him. There were some resources available to him, what with Mount Gundabad a few days' march away. Regardless, it strikes me that he took advantage of existing antipathies between the Men who were native to the region, and the colonists and conquerors that were the Dunedain, driving a wedge into the cracks created by the fracturing of Arnor. Rhudaur had been seized by tribes native to the area, who were fairly easy to convince to join with Angmar in driving out the Dunedain invaders, giving the Witch-King a forward base and source of troops and supplies. These Men weren't completely corrupted, not at first; they were just happy to act upon old grudges held against a once-unassailable enemy who had colonized lands that were once theirs. This all shows just how tenuous both Sauron's and the Dunedain's power was in this era, a striking contrast between the truly awe-inspiring power each held in earlier ages. Angmar: Land of the Witch-King and Empire of the Witch-King conjure up a conflict between two forces hanging onto power by their fingertips, both merely shadows of their former selves.

As presented in these books, Angmar is an interesting place, full of untapped potential. As with other MERP books, I have to say it's too bad that so much work now sits largely forgotten.

The Hobbit, 75 years on...

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort."

Hobbit-holes seem like they'd be nice places to live. Tolkien himself illustrated the quintessential hobbit-hole, Bag End. His vision of hobbit digs was surprisingly spacious to my eye, when I first saw his pictures of Bilbo's home.

More than enough headspace even for someone tall, like Gandalf. Still, it has a cozy feel to it, doesn't it? Before I got a glimpse of Tolkien's own artwork, my impression of Bag End was shaped by the work of the Brothers Hildebrandt.

Much less headspace, but that adds to the coziness. I was always taken by the fact that hobbits had clocks, as shown in this painting, but also as mentioned by Tolkien himself in the narrative of The Hobbit. It made me wonder what else they might have - manual lawnmowers, perhaps? I know Tolkien later said that clockwork mechanisms didn't really exist in Middle-earth, and that his mention of a clock in The Hobbit was just a bit of a mistake. But I like to think they did have clocks, and some simple labor-saving devices, because it fits the nature of hobbits. One of my favorite depictions of Bag End and Bilbo is By the Fireside, by Canadian artist Kim Benson. I was so taken by it that I bought a print of it.

Another clock, which adds to the cozy feel here; a quarter after ten seems like a nice, comfortable time to be settled down and drifting off into the night. Oh, it's not as great as after Midnight, of course, but I'm sure Bilbo will still be there into the wee hours.

These depictions of Bag End are what The Hobbit means to me - warmth and coziness, tales and reflections of life and adventures, recounted from a comfortable armchair, the danger now at arm's length, the spiders and trolls and the dragon, yes, even the dragon, slightly silly and a tad comical in retrospect. A tale well-told, the evening drawing down, good triumphant and home snug and warm.

Adventures in the wilds of Middle-earth - Phantom of the Northern Marches, Trolls of the Misty Mountains, and Haunted Ruins of the Dunlendings

By this point, I've covered almost all the Middle-earth Roleplaying books I own that are set in Eriador. The only ones left that are set west of the Misty Mountains are adventures, which differ from the books that I've discussed up until now. Adventures are more focused, concentrating on relatively small areas, but which are more nebulous in exactly where they are set. They are more about small-scale problems that need solving than sweeping history and epic quests.These problems range from missing people to giants roaming the land to ghostly manifestations. Doughty warriors, mysterious mages, ruthless bandits, and decadent nobles help and hinder the characters belonging to the players. This is the kind of stuff the Rangers took care of, or which slowed Gandalf down when he wasn't hanging out in Hobbiton. It's not all thumping the Balrog or tossing Rings into volcanoes.

First up is Phantom of the Northern Marches.

Daniel Horne is one of my favorite fantasy artists, and he did - and still does, I think - quite a bit of roleplaying game work, including some great Dragon Magazine covers. One of them is one of my favorite D&D images, ever.

Nowadays he seems to be concentrating on classic monster paintings and sculptures. Regardless, I've never seen a bad painting by him. He didn't do a lot of work for MERP (Middle-earth Roleplaying), but what he did was striking.

Besides Horne's fantastic cover, there is a bit of decent interior art, including maps that are different from the gorgeous Middle-earth maps I usually rave about. The maps here are more tactical in nature, showing monster lairs and the like.

Ridorthu has simple tastes, apparently.

The titular Northern Marches are the northern edges of Arthedain and Rhudaur, a rather bleak, wild region of Middle-earth even at the best of times. The town of Novtha Rhaglaw, besides being afflicted with an awkward-to-say name, is an isolated, somewhat ramshackle place. Not far from the land of the Witch-king, Angmar, it nevertheless remains untouched, though doom hangs in the air.

Phantom of the Northern Marches has three main adventures:

The Phantom of the Woods: The folk of Novtha Raglaw are puzzled and unsettled by tales of missing shepherds and strange lights in the woods. Now, a hunter has turned up dead. Could this be the work of barrow-wights, or forces of the Witch-king? Or some other dastardly villain?

The Riddle of Ridorthu: Farms in the area of Novtha Rhaglaw have had livestock come up missing. Huge footprints have been found. Strange sounds in the night seem to come from an invisible source. Shepherding seems to be a hazardous job in Novtha Rhaglaw, as yet another poor sap of that profession is found knocked senseless. So what's going on? It's up to the players and their characters to find out.

Gerse's Bane: A dragon rampages throughout the area. A classic fantasy game scenario, this could spell the end of the player's characters if they aren't careful and don't manage to enlist some aid...could tales of an ancient warrior hold the clue to the dragon's defeat?

The book details the town of Novtha Rhaglaw and its inhabitants, giving characters for the players to interact with. It's a pretty standard affair for a roleplaying game, though the adventures here have more of a fairy tale air than those for games like Dungeons & Dragons. Still, these types of adventures are a tested formula for success, with success defined as the players having fun.

Next, let's look at Trolls of the Misty Mountains.

Yep, another Daniel Horne cover. What's aggravating is that Iron Crown Enteprises (ICE), publisher of MERP, chose to do some of these covers as semi-wrap-arounds, with about a third of the image continued on the back cover. While this makes for a nice, almost letterboxed look, it's tough to scan and even tougher to post the two parts side-by-side here on blogger.

Yeah, tiny, I know. That's the only way I could get them to sit side-by-side. Here's a bigger version of the front cover, because it deserves to be seen.

Cool stuff, huh? Horne definitely has his own take on what trolls look like, and I think his interpretation is pretty fun, yet a little scary, though in a children's-storybook way. Even some of the interior art, by Denis Loubet, is whimsical.

Trolls aren't the most observant creatures.

Trolls of the Misty Mountains is set in the region of Rhudaur that approaches the western foothills of the Misty Mountains. As you might have guessed, there is gonna be a good bit of troll action in this one. As with Phantom of the Northern Marches, Trolls of the Misty Mountains has three main adventures. The adventures are linked by a couple of isolated fortresses of Arthedain, which has tried to extend its grasp now that its brother-kingdoms of Cardolan and Rhudaur are gone, or nearly so. The players' characters are sent out to scout for the construction of a road between the fortresses. But, y'know, there are trolls, so it's not just a surveying job.

The Adventure of Duildin Hill involves farmers approaching the characters of the players to help them get rid of trolls raiding their farms. Guess where the trolls live? It's a fairly straightforward mission, but there are a few complications that may not be too much of a surprise. Still, it's an adventure in the classic mold.

Adventure at the Village of Garkash is another classic, and is also straightforward. An orc village has a bridge that lies right on the route for the road the player characters are scouting. It may seem uncomplicated, but the orcs have a few surprises to spring.

Adventure at Maes Fao is set in a forbidding gorge on the path of the proposed road. The player characters end up searching for an ancient artifact, an heirloom of the last king of Rhudaur. They aren't the only ones, though; the Dark Lord's reach is long, and his agents seem everywhere. There are trolls, yes, but they may only be tools of more calculating villains.

Trolls of the Misty Mountains is a pretty good mini-campaign for characters still learning to be heroes.

Haunted Ruins of the Dunlendings is, technically, not set in Eriador, but was more intended to be set somewhere near the Paths of the Dead in the White Mountains of Gondor. Still, as is stated in the book itself, it can be set just about anywhere Dunlendings live or once lived. This includes the Southern Misty Mountains.

 

This time, the wraparound cover is by Gail B. McIntosh, who did other MERP covers, including Hillmen of the Trollshaws. This cover is exceptional, also evoking a fairytale feel, reminding me a bit of Victorian-era illustrations by artists like Anne Anderson.

The Miller's Daughter by Anne Anderson

Anyway, this McIntosh cover deserves to be shown larger, so here 'tis.

 As with the other two books I've discussed in this post, this one has three adventures.

Adventure at Minas Anghen involves the tower of a Seer, or wise woman. The trade road that runs near the tower has become a dangerous place, with passing merchants often ambushed and robbed or slain. Rooting out the bandits and discovering the fate of the Seer and her tower draws the player characters to the area.

There are some nifty maps and schematics in this book, and Minas Anghen is the subject of some of the better ones.

Side view of Minas Anghen

Adventure at the Seven Stones (Setmaenen) is set at a site sacred to the Dunlendings, a stone dome with surrounding standing stones. A cursed artifact has made the place unclean, and the site has been closed off until the Dunlendings have made right the Oathbreaking, which is where they betrayed oaths they made to Gondor and the Elves. By the way - this curse was only lifted when Aragorn called on the Dead Men of Dunharrow to fulfill their Oaths, and help smash Umbar and rescue Minas Tirith. So, this adventure may be more or less interesting depending on the time period in which it is used. 

This adventure also has some nifty pics, the best of which is this one:

Adventure at Hogo Tarosvan deals with a site where the cursed dead were buried in cliffside caves, a forgotten village, and a fertile valley. This particular adventure is especially spooky, but is also more wide-ranging, both in territory and theme. The writers manage to evoke a feeling of evil that is not exactly that of Sauron, but is dreaded nonetheless. This one also has some interesting pictures.

 I also would be remiss if I didn't share this truly awesome picture by Jim Holloway, which deserves a spot of its own on this post:

These three books present an interesting glimpse of Middle-earth from a perspective not often delved into. Beyond the forests of the Elves and the Shire of the Hobbits, the wilds of Middle-earth are open and trackless, full of ancient and forgotten danger. I think my reassessment of these books is among the more radical of those I've made as I've done these Middle-earth roleplaying blogs. I didn't think much of them for the longest time, but looking at them in the context of what I've read and commented on up to this point, they really seem to have more substance and interest than I ever gave them credit for.