Chapter 9: The World

… he kept in a drawer at Bag End the old cloak and hood that he had worn on his travels; and the ring, secured by a fine chain,
remained in his pocket.

This chapter contains background material describing the default setting for The Lord of the Rings Roleplaying—the region of Eriador as it was towards the end of the
Third Age. It introduces key locations, personalities and events, to be used mainly by the Loremaster to set up a great number of gaming sessions that will be both
entertaining and faithful to the source material.

The best way to use the information presented here is to adopt a starting location (for example, the town of Bree, or the Shire), and have the heroes explore Eriador from there.

As anticipated in the Introduction to this volume, the game is set ‘officially’ in the year 2965 of the Third Age—Bilbo Baggins’ great adventure was accomplished less
than 25 years before, and war is brewing in distant lands. There is again a Dark Lord in Mordor, and his chief lieutenants, the Ringwraiths, have reclaimed his fortress in
the depths of Mirkwood, to the east.

In the quiet west, in Eriador, not much is heard of this turmoil. Dwarves are encountered travelling on the great East Road to and from the Mountains in greater
numbers, carrying strange and rich wares, a testimony of their newfound wealth and that of the Men of Dale; Elves wandering out of their own lands beyond the Tower
Hills can sometimes be met wandering the woods in spring and autumn.

But the long peace that seems to reign in the pleasant land of the Hobbits can be deceitful – there are dark things moving again in the world outside, and they are
guided by an evil will.
Eriador

In the westlands of Eriador… the Hobbits found both Men and Elves. Indeed, a remnant still dwelt there of the Dúnedain, the kings of Men that came over the
Sea out of Westernesse…

Some say that ‘Eriador’ means “the lonely land” in the tongue of the Grey-Elves, and a more apt name is unlikely to be found. Though it was once the domain of ancient
kings, as the ages passed and the world darkened, it became a mere shadow of its former self. Only ruins of crumbling white stone, forgotten by Men, are left, the
domain of terrible creatures who serve dark masters.

Small pockets of civilization endure, settlements inhabited by people more concerned with their own affairs than with any glories of the past, and who feel that what
lies more than a few miles beyond their own front door is none of their business. But this lack of interest, or even awareness, makes what stalks the ruined realms of
Eriador even more dangerous. If they only knew what lurks beyond their isolated settlements, they would keep their doors locked at night and would not dare to stray
too far beyond the borders of their towns and hamlets.

For all its danger, there is a melancholy and a beauty to even the most desolate and blasted parts of Eriador. Old songs are remembered, even if most ignore the origin
of these lays, nor know their meanings. Perhaps those who wander the Lone-lands will live to see a day when hope and prosperity will take root in this region once
again.

NORTH-WESTERN MIDDLE-EARTH
The region where the Free Peoples and their foes dwell at the end of the Third
Age is dominated by the great range of the Misty Mountains. To the west of
its snow-capped peaks lies Eriador, where once the North-kingdom of the
Men of the West rose. To the east lies wild Rhovanion, where the dark forest
of Mirkwood lies. Beyond the forest to the northeast is the Long Lake and the
Lonely Mountain, where a great Dragon used to rule. To the far south open
the green plains of Rohan, bordered by the White Mountains. Further east is
the South-kingdom of Gondor, the Realm of Stone, whose Tower of Guard
faces the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie.

The Shire
 MAP: THE SHIRE

The Shire, the land of the Hobbits, is found at the heart of Eriador, bordered by the Brandywine River and the Old Forest to the east, and by the hilly range of the Far
Downs to the west. It is a peculiar land, sheltered from the wild regions surrounding it by watchful guardians, and inhabited by a folk that is almost never encountered
anywhere else. For very few Hobbits ever leave their land to travel far. They prefer to keep to themselves, enjoying their green land and comfortable traditions. Dwarven
traders often pass through the Shire, but never stop for more than what is required to cross it.

The existence of Hobbits has been hitherto overlooked by most folks outside Eriador, and their involvement in the great events of the age has been so far of little or no
consequence—but there is still time for them to play a part that neither the Enemy nor the Wise have foreseen.

Lake Evendim
 MAP: LAKE EVENDIM

Nestled against the base of the Hills of Evendim is the great lake for which those rolling lands are named. Its white, sandy shores have seen many generations of Men
and Dúnedain live and prosper, thanks to the trade that once sailed along the waters of the Brandywine river, from here to the distant sea. But that age has passed, and
the buildings that once rose along the banks of the lake have been abandoned so long ago that often not even a memory remains. Today, countless broken stones
have become little more than a refuge for wild beasts. Sometimes, they serve as lairs for even worse things, creatures that come down from the lone-lands to the north
in search of prey.

The waters of the lake are uncommonly still in summer, in spite of the wind sweeping down from the hills, as if those draughts were unwilling to disturb their peace. In
winter, the surface often freezes solid for months, blanketing the entire lake in a white canopy. Fog rolls in from the east, settling across the waters and onto the shores
in both late summer and winter, absorbing all sound. This mist rapidly burns off under the summer sun, but lingers to envelop everything it touches once the darker,
colder seasons have taken hold.

Rumours persist that small islands lay unexplored in the middle of Lake Evendim, perhaps hiding forgotten treasures, heirlooms left behind when the great city of
Annúminas was abandoned, more than two thousand years ago. Stories tell that the fog of the lake is summoned by some ancient magic, cast by the last High Men to
keep these artefacts from falling into the hands of the Enemy.

THE BRANDYWINE RIVER

The Baranduin river flows south out of Lake Evendim and across the North
Moors before it descends south dividing the Eastfarthing of the Shire from
Buckland and the Old Forest. Then, it flows in a southwesterly course, serving
as the northern border of the wide region known as Minhiriath, south of the
Shire. Finally, it empties into the sea near the woodland cape of Eryn Vorn.
The Brandywine has two known crossings: The Brandywine Bridge, where the
 East Road leaves the Shire, and Sarn Ford, far to the south, which is seldom
used.

Annúminas

The great city of Annúminas has lain in ruins for more than two thousand years. Once the capital of the North Kingdom of the Men of the West, it was abandoned when
the Dúnedain moved their capital to the east, to Fornost Erain. The broken stonework of the ruined city cast its long shadows on the shores of Lake Evendim for many
centuries, like the bones of an immense dead beast. About fifty years ago, the waters of Lake Evendim rose dramatically, as a consequence of the terrible floods
following the Fell Winter, changing the shoreline and submerging much of what remained of the once glorious city. Now, not even brigands and tomb-robbers visit
Annúminas, for little of its ancient greatness is left to be remembered.

The Rangers of the North sometimes come here, and they speak of the city of Annúminas in a voice that mingles both sorrow and hope. According to their songs and
rhymes, here were once housed great works of art and magnificent artefacts that came from the lands beyond the sea. Though the greatest of these were lost to the
tides of time or are now held in secret by the lords of the Free People, many believe that a great number of treasures remain hidden, waiting to be discovered by
explorers doughty enough to brave the waters that now claim the ruins.

The Western Tower: The rising waters of Lake Nenuial have claimed much of what was left of Annúminas. Today, only the tallest and unbroken towers and walls
emerge from the surface, and only about once a year, when the depth of the lake diminishes for a while in winter. But there’s one tower that is tall enough to rise above
the surface all-year round. Called the Western Tower by the Rangers of the North, it stood at the end of a pier, extending above the surface of the lake, looking west.
Today, the pier is broken and submerged, and the tower can only be reached by boat, or by walking on the surface of the lake when it freezes solid, in the coldest
winters.

Some say that if one climbs the tower to look upon the shores of Lake Evendim on starry, moonless nights, they can hear a song drifting over its still waters, a dirge
both mournful and beautiful. Then, strange, ghostly ships with high sails appear at the edge of vision, drawing ever closer to the tower, but never reaching it. Then, they
fade and vanish on the mist-swept surface of Lake Evendim.

The Hills of Evendim

The Hills of Evendim give the nearby lake its Sindarin name—Lake Nenuial, “the Lake of Twilight”. This is maybe because the shadows of the hills lengthen over its
waters, making them look dull and flat, except on starry nights, when the surface reflects the beautiful sky above. Once, the hills were the home of a folk that built upon
their slopes even before the Men of the West settled there, and many stones still bear their markings. These days, they have become a wild and dangerous place,
threatened by wandering Trolls and other monsters. They come down from their lairs in the northern lone-lands, to prowl along the shores of the lake in hopes of
catching a wayward traveller or foolish treasure hunter. They make sport of anyone unlucky enough to fall under their gaze, and there are even rumours that a few of
their strange kind sometimes slip into the south along the Shire’s North Moors.

THE FORGOTTEN HAMLET

Eskerdale is an isolated village of Men, hidden in a deep valley on the
northeastern slopes of the Hills of Evendim. Wanting little to do with other
denizens of Eriador or the Shire to the south, its inhabitants make their
homes in small stone houses by a swift running stream, and survive by
hunting among the hills and fishing from the waters of the Lake. They are not
accounted among the Rangers of the North, but they sometimes have
dealings with them. More than twenty years ago, a chieftain by the name of
Oswin rose to prominence in Eskerdale. A young and energetic man at the
time, he resented the interference of the Rangers in the life of his community.
As a result, the village grew more and more withdrawn, and its already small
population began to dwindle.

In recent times, the few Rangers that are still welcome in Eskerdale have
noticed a sullen look on the faces of the locals, and it is feared that they may
have fallen prey to some curse, or that their isolation has finally broken their
spirit.

Finding Eskerdale is not easy, even for those who are told of its existence or
receive hints of its location. Finding it requires a DC 20 Wisdom ability check,
using Explore, Hunting, or Perception. Those who find the hidden community
 need to demonstrate that they are not a threat, for example with a DC 15
Charisma (Persuasion) check, though Rangers have disadvantage on this
roll. Consulting with the people of Eskerdale allows a hero to gain advantage
on the next Wisdom (Explore), Wisdom (Hunting), and Wisdom (TravelTravel)
checks associated with the region of Evendim.

THE TWILIGHT SHIPS

Player-heroes who partake in the vision of the ghost ships sailing on Lake
Evendim may react differently::
• Player-heroes who are miserable must exchange a point of Shadow
for a Shadow Scar. Those who are not miserable gain inspiration
instead.

Arin and Beinion of Evendim: Unlike most Rangers of the North, Arin and Beinion do not often wander across Eriador. Instead, they remain close to Lake Evendim and
its surroundings, where they maintain a close watch. A wife and her husband, their self-appointed tasks include warding off all evil creatures threatening to defile the
ruins of Annúminas, and guiding wayward travellers back to safer lands. Beinion is a grim and short-spoken man, and Arin is equally silent, unless she’s singing—when
she does, her voice is clear and can be mistaken for that of a fair Elf-maiden. The two see themselves as the appointed keepers of these lands, and they feel honour-
bound by this duty.

Arin and Beinion live together in a small stone house that was once little more than a hovel on the edge of Annúminas. Over time, they have made this ruin into a warm
and cosy home, in spite of all the desolation around them. Recently, Beinion has grown concerned with his wife’s well being, as she is now with child, making her life as
a Ranger an even more dangerous business. Beinion secretly wishes Arin would agree to abandon their obligation as guardians, and retire to live the simple life of the
Bree-folk. For the moment, she refuses to be left home. Maybe, they might agree to leave their post if someone took their place.

Sindarin, Westron
Medium humanoid (Dúnadan) 2 (450 XP, pro�ciency bonus +2)

Arin and Beinion have advantage on saving throws against being

, and they gain a bonus to these saving throws equal to their Wisdom
16 (+3) 14 (+2) 14 (+2) 10 (+0) 14 (+2) 9 (-1) modi�er (included in the stat block).

Rangers
Arin and Beinion make two melee attacks, or one melee attack and one
Faithful, Fair-spoken (Arin),True-hearted (Beinion)
ranged attack.
15 (mail-shirt)
Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 7 (1d8 + 3)
52 (8d8+16) slashing damage, or 8 (1d10 + 3) if used with two hands to make a melee attack.

35 ft. Melee or Ranged Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft. or range 20/60 ft., one
target. Hit: 6 (1d6 + 3) piercing damage, or 7 (1d8 + 3) piercing damage if used with two
hands to make a melee attack.
Con +4, Cha +3

+5, +6, +6, +1, +6,

+4, +6
Arin and Beinion add 2 to their AC against one melee attack that would hit
passive Perception 16 them. To do so, they must see the attacker and be wielding a melee weapon.

The Bree-Land
 MAP: BREE LAND

If any credit is to be given to the tales recounted in Bree, there has always been a settlement here, on the Road, since the Elder Days. What is sure is that the simple
Bree-folk—a colourful community of Men and Hobbits, have endured the fall of kingdoms, fell winters, and terrible invasions from Orcs and Evil Men from the north.

Today, the Bree-folk, Big and Little, look out from behind their hedge wall and its great encircling ditch to see a landscape of rolling fields and stone-capped hills that
are riddled with traces of a past time of glory. But they are not deceived—they know that there are ancient riddles that are best left to others to answer, and instead,
they focus their efforts on the responsibilities of daily life.

Bree

Bree is the chief village of the Bree-land. Some call it a town, especially when comparing it to its lesser cousins, the hamlets of Archet, Staddle, and Combe. Travellers
who approach Bree journeying upon the great East Road see plumes of chimney-smoke first, and then a thick green hedge, flanked by a deep dike. The road coming
from the west crosses over the dike on a causeway, leading to a break in that thorny row of lush greenery, where a heavy gate of wood and iron stands. Another, similar
gate pierces the hedge to the south, where the road leaves the village on its way east.

The gates of Bree are a welcome sight to most travellers, and sit open every day from dawn until dusk, regardless of the season or the weather. Each gate is guarded
by a gatekeeper at all times, less of a watchman and more of an observer of the comings and goings of those who enter the town upon the hill. Most visitors are given
a courteous welcome, unless the hour is late—after nightfall, it is the duty of the gatekeepers to ask questions of those who wish to pass the gates when they are
closed.

A smaller gate can be found opening near the end of the northern arm of the great hedge, where it turns eastward towards the hill once again. It is seldom used, if ever,
as it is crossed by a path leading to the Greenway, the North Road used only by Rangers and other wanderers of ill-repute.

Most Bree-folk, whether Big or Little, work as crafters or labourers, and build their simple homes using wood harvested from the Chetwood and stone mined from the
quarry. The Bree folk also collect stones from old ruins, at least enough to keep the town in repair.

The Big Folk live mainly in stone houses built on the lower hillside, mostly above the road, their windows looking west. The Little Folk dwell in the higher slopes of the
hill instead, the part of Bree the Big Folk still refer to as the ‘new town’, despite it being probably more than a thousand years old. But these differences aside, the
people of Bree get along in a remarkably peaceable way, and are surprisingly welcoming to visitors, being ever curious about tales from beyond the gates of their town.

A Reeve holds a nominal position of leadership over the community, but they are rarely called upon to settle disputes, as most folk are able to keep any disagreements
civil and private. Equally underutilised, but present, are the Bree-wardens, men and women ostensibly tasked with keeping the peace and maintaining law and order. In
practice, their duties consist primarily of idly wandering the streets to engage in pleasantries or gossip along with the occasional request to manage the large crowds
that gather upon the Green on market day.

THE BIG AND THE LITTLE

There are many families of Hobbits spread among the villages of the Bree-
land, especially in Staddle. These Bree-hobbits are of course closely related
to their neighbours in the Shire – indeed, to most Big Folk, it is impossible to
tell the difference (unless one makes the mistake of asking one of the
Hobbits, in which case get comfortable—you are in for a long talk about
family trees, obscure legal issues, and exceedingly minute cultural
differences).

If you desire to create a Bree-hobbit, use all the rules concerning the Hobbits,
with the following exceptions:
• Bree-hobbits have proficiency in Insight instead of Stealth.

• They must pick their cultural virtues from the following list: Bree-
pony, Desperate Courage, Small Folk, Strange as News from Bree,
The Art of Smoking, Tough as Old Tree Roots.

Bree-hobbits share many family names with the local Big Folk (Mugworts, for
example), but most have Shire-sounding names, such as Banks, Brockhouse,
Longhole, Sandheaver, Tunnelly, and Underhill.

The Prancing Pony: The great East Road cuts through the heart of Bree, and at the centre of the town stands the inn of The Prancing Pony. Known locally just as The
Pony, it has stood for as long as anyone in Bree can recall. Rising above the cobblestones of the East Road and looking out upon the Green, it is always a welcome
sight to both locals and weary travellers. Though its most common patrons are Bree locals, it sees its fair share of Dwarven travellers moving between Dale, the Lonely
Mountain and the Iron Hills in the east and the Blue Mountains in the west, or the occasional Hobbit of the Shire. The proprietor even claims his grandfather once
hosted an Elf that was travelling west to the Great Sea.

On any given night, The Prancing Pony is filled with the sound of raucous laughter and the scent of fine food and fresh beer—all of it under a cloud of aromatic pipe
smoke. Even during the day, a few patrons can be found either enjoying a brief reprieve from their daily work or exchanging idle gossip. Day or night, regardless of the
season, a crackling fire is set in the hearth and a soothing golden glow can be seen in its frosted windows. All who step under the lamp and signboard (showing a fat
white pony rearing up and ‘The Prancing Pony’ in white letters) and enter The Pony are welcome, by order of the innkeeper, Barnabas Butterbur. Even the ill-favoured
Rangers are given a table when they patronise his establishment, though always one in the back and away from the regular customers.

Those looking for lodging will find simple, comfortable rooms with warm feather beds. Barnabas even makes sure to keep a few smaller rooms on the ground floor of
the inn to ensure the comfort of his Hobbit patrons. Though not as grand as an Elf hall or as cosy as a Hobbit smial, travellers will be hard pressed to find better
accommodations west of the Last Bridge. Guests can even pay a few extra silver pennies for a hot bath to wash away the dirt of the road, and are assured the comfort
of their loyal mounts, who are well-stabled in the Pony’s sheltered courtyard. Simple but hearty food fills the belly of all who visit, and partners perfectly with Barnabas’s
Best, an ale brewed on site and served fresh.

Rarely is there a quiet night at The Pony. When the Player-heroes spend an evening at the inn, the Loremaster can roll on the following table to determine who or what
they encounter while sampling a bit of ale and taking a break from the troubles of the road.

An Evening at The Prancing Pony

d12 Result Description

A sallow-faced southerner is lingering about the shadows of the common room, asking rude questions and bullying locals
1 Skulking Southerner
for the latest news in Bree-land.

One of the Rangers of the North is quietly minding their own business in a corner of the inn’s common room. Several locals
2 Ill-Favoured Ranger
are leering or making cross remarks, but no one knows why they are here.
 d12 Result Description

A small company of Hobbits from Buckland is spending an evening at The Pony, meeting with distant cousins, and hoping
3 Visitors from Buckland
to trade for some of the local crop of pipe-weed.

Dwarves, travelling to the land of their kin along the great East-West Road are sampling some of Barnabas’s Best, and have
4 Dwarf Travellers
raised a raucous song this evening.

A small family of homesteaders who once lived along the Greenway have come to the Pony in search of refuge. They are
5 Greenway Refugees
cautious, but anyone who asks politely can learn from them that their farm was burnt and sacked last night.

The Forester of Archet has come to The Pony this evening looking for stout warriors to join him in a hunt for a new threat
6 Fitch Talltree
prowling the Chetwood. He is having little luck in his efforts.

John Ferny is having a pint in the common room and several other patrons are cross with him. They are engaged in a loud
7 Impending Brawl
argument and it seems like things are about to come to blows.

The common room is filled with patrons roaring out bolstering ballads of heroes and hearthfires! Characters who join in
8 Rousing Ballad
and succeed on a DC 15 Charisma (Performance) check gain inspiration.

A wealthy merchant is passing through Bree and has bought a round of drinks for everyone in attendance this evening.
9 Showing Some Coin
Unfortunately, some less than savoury drinkers seem to have a keen eye on his money purse.

The Pony’s ostler comes running into the common room, yelling that the horses have gotten loose from the inn’s stables!
10 Ponies Loose at The Pony!
Was this an accident or an attempted theft?

A group of glorified tomb robbers have come to spend ill-gotten riches they claim to have retrieved from a tomb in the
11 Bragging Treasure Hunters
Barrow-downs. The coins are ancient and marked in a strange script.

Gandalf himself is visiting the Pony this evening and his presence alone has the whole house astir! Perhaps he is on a
12 The Grey Pilgrim
secret errand of his own, or searching for the Player-heroes to gain their aid against some hidden threat.

East Row: The last side street branching out of the main road going towards the south gate is called the East Row. Its houses make up what is probably the youngest
district in the town of Bree, even if it may seem to outsiders to be the most ancient. Until recent decades, it was little more than grazing lands for caravan horses, but
when refugees came north out of Tharbad, they settled the open fields as their own land with the blessing of the Reeve of Bree. Bringing with them the grim
determination of those who grew up in the farthest corners of Eriador, these refugees taught their children to survive and endure with little aid from others. This has led
to East Row being a bit more insular and less welcoming than the neighbourhoods of other Bree-folk, who have called the town home for hundreds of years. As a
further reflection of their unwillingness to abandon their roots, the people of East Row brought with them some of the very stones of their abandoned city to serve as
the foundation of their new domain. Statues of ancient kings, though worn and cracked, stand next to traditional Bree homesteads, and icons of seafaring people
mingle with the more rustic local imagery.

Ferny’s House

One of the less hospitable-looking houses in East Row belongs to the sallow-faced and cross-
tempered horse trader and ostler, John Ferny. In previous generations, the Ferny family name was
Medium humanoid (Man of Bree)
associated with the trade of some of the finest horses in Eriador—today, it has become synonymous
with deception. The quality steeds and workhorses traded by his father and grandfather have given
way to wretched and ill-treated nags that he sells at inflated prices. The good will of his family name 10 (+0) 10 (+0) 12 (+1)
has withered to worthlessness, and to maintain profits, John has even taken to trading with foreign
folk. More than once, locals have seen him taking silver pennies from foreigners and southerners, Horse-trader, Ostler

and John has little more than snide remarks for any who question his business practices. The only Cunning, Secretive

matter upon which the townsfolk seem to agree with the foul ostler is his constant suspicion of the
+5, +2, +2
Rangers whenever they make their way into Bree.
passive Perception 12

Westron

The Green: The heart of Bree, the Green is a wide grassy field at the centre of the town on the western side of the East Road, across from the Prancing Pony. This lush
lawn is framed on one side by the administrative buildings of Bree: The Counting-House, the Armoury, and the Reeve’s Hall. Except for on market days, the Green acts
as little more than a playing field for local children. Here, they can often be found playing blind man’s buff, wrestling, or play-acting at being knights of old.

During festivals and on market days, the Green is filled with tents, stalls, and carts, as Bree-land traders sell their goods alongside rare visitors from the tiny
communities of southern Eriador, and even the occasional Dwarf from the Blue Mountains. As much a social gathering as an event for commerce, it is not uncommon
to see barrels of Barnabas’s Best setup beside long wooden tables, to help keep the thirst of the day at bay. Bree-wardens serve to keep the peace during these
gatherings, though they rarely have to do more than settle a contentious negotiation or prevent a drunken brawl started by a reveller who’s had one too many.

The day-to-day administration of Bree is carried out from the Reeve’s House, which serves as both the town court-house and home to its senior official. The current
Reeve is Cole Pickthorn, who, prior to his election, served for over a decade under the previous Reeve and has adopted many of his principles and policies. The
Wardens’ Armoury, more commonly known as simply the Armoury, is a squat stone building that is officially the headquarters of the Bree-wardens, but is little more
than a storehouse for rarely used spears, shields, and helms, kept ready should the town ever face a threat from the wilds outside.

Larger than either of these buildings is the Counting-House. In ancient days, it was manned by a representative of the King, who collected taxes in his name and saw to
the proper allocation of funds to the town. Sitting upon stone pillars and rising as tall as even the Prancing Pony, its size hints at its noble past. Now it serves as little
more than a drafty hall for brief and inconsequential meetings of members of the town council, who are concerned with little more than small town politics and
ensuring their own re-election.

Lower Hillside: The lower slopes of Bree-hill are dotted with stone houses, the living quarters of many of Bree’s craftsmen. Blacksmiths, tailors, leatherworkers, and
many other skilled tradesmen practice their crafts on the ground floor of their homes, while living on the first or even second storey. It is a tradition among many of the
local residents to work in tandem alongside families of Hobbits that typically live and work in the basements of the Big Folk’s stone homes. For example, one farmer by
the name of John Andrews keeps a crop of Southern Star growing on his hillside land, but rents out space below his home to a small Hobbit family who aids in the
curing and preparing of the leaf for sale. Hobbits living under this arrangement are sometimes known as Cellar-Hobbits.

As proud as they are skilled, the craftsmen of the lower hillside come from long family lines that set down roots during the days of the king. Because of this, they often
regard outsiders or even other Bree-folk as less cultured or somehow beneath their concern. It is indeed a fact that their homes are among the first ones to have ever
been built in Bree. This noble lineage authorises the local residents to call it the ‘old town’, in contrast to the houses built on the upper hillside—the area they call the
‘new town’ with a good hint of superciliousness.

At the southern end of this ‘old town’ is the ancient quarry of Bree, clearly visible as a deep cut into the hillside, the result of centuries of excavations. But the most
important landmark in the lower hillside is the Old Town Well. A source of pride to all the Bree-folk, the Well is said to grant luck to any traveller who takes a drink from
it before heading off on a journey down the East Road. Given that it’s the source for the water used to brew Barnabas’s Best, perhaps it’s true that there’s always a taste
of home on the lips of those travellers who partake of this tradition. Many Bree-folk looking for a bit of adventure often gather around the Old Town Well after Market
Day is over, hoping to sign on with a caravan of Dwarven merchants either travelling west to the Blue Mountains or, in rare cases, far east to Dale and the Halls of the
Lonely Mountain.

So welcome are the Dwarves that bring their trade to Bree, that the lower hillside is home to another remarkable establishment: the Dwarf-house. Overlooking the Well
and purchased long ago by a Dwarf from the Blue Mountains, it is now a temporary home for any Dwarf merchants during their visits to Bree. The only permanent
resident is Luki, the grey-bearded steward, whose bawdy songs can be heard ringing through the area whenever he hosts young visitors and distant kinsmen.

Upper Hillside: Compared to the lower hillside, this part of Bree is generally less affluent, and its homes more humble. It is an area inhabited mostly by Bree-hobbits,
who favour low, one-story houses, fronted by colourful, fenced gardens. The exception to this rule is a large wooden building, the Schoolhouse. A recent establishment,
it is open to all residents of Bree, whether Big or Little, and regardless of income. Its costs are covered by taxes taken from locals and tariffs levied on traders—though
neither of these is extreme. Because of the existence of the school, nearly all of the Bree-folk are capable of doing simple sums and know their letters. Little beyond
these basics is provided, and scholarly pursuits are not common nor particularly encouraged. Even so, it is not uncommon for families from Combe, Staddle, and even
Archet to pay an upper hillside family to house their child for a time so that they can receive a “proper education”.

The upper hillside is also home to the town’s largest smithy, which is a squat stone building high on the Hill. Few weapons are crafted here. Instead, the local smith is
kept busy with crafting horseshoes, nails, and other day-to-day implements.

TOSS A COIN IN THE WELL

Whether because of tradition, superstition, or some ancient enchantment,
there is a strange luck associated with the Old Town Well. Player-heroes
tossing a coin into the well on the same day that they depart for a journey
from Bree have advantage on their first check for Event Resolution made
during that journey.

Combe

Tucked between the valley of Bree-hill to the south and the eaves of the Chetwood to the north, the village of Combe seems to sit in the shadow of both the land and its
larger, livelier and more famous neighbour. Combe is only second in size among the area’s settlements, and is populated primarily by Men, with a handful of Hobbit
families. Its inhabitants are dour and gloomy farmers, happy to have to deal with visitors only rarely. The few who come to Combe find themselves greeted by the
sounds of bleating sheep or barking hounds, before receiving suspicious stares and half-hearted welcomes from the locals.

This sullenness is not without cause. Living between Bree-hill and the Chetwood means that heavy spring rains or melting snows can lead to sudden floods which
destroy homes and crops at least once a decade, though none was so devastating as the great flood that came in the spring following the Fell Winter. As if that were
not trouble enough, unlike the vigilant and well-armed people of Archet, Combe locals have little protection should a Troll choose to come down from the Weather Hills,
cross the Chetwood, and make mutton of their grazing sheep—something which has happened in past generations and remains a source of constant concern.

Oswald Breeker
The most well-known resident of Combe is one Oswald Breeker, a wizened old man who
lives alone in his ancient family estate on the edge of the village. He is the master of
Medium humanoid (Man of Bree)
much of the farm and grazing lands of Combe, and extracts a heavy tax from those who
tend these fields and hills. A widower who lost his only child over twenty years ago, he
offers the people of Combe little more than cross words and demands for prompt 14 (+2) 14 (+2) 9 (-1)
payment. Rumours say that his wife, in despair at the cold heart of her husband,
disappeared in the ruins of an ancient mansion that is visible at the end of the valley of Wealthy landowner

Combe. No locals dare to visit these ancient and broken stones, as many have said to Grim, Secretive

have seen a spectre haunting the grounds when the moon is new and the sky is black.
+4, +1, +4, Old Lore +6

passive Perception 12

Westron

In truth, while quite cantankerous, Oswald Breeker is no villain. He is a hard man and pushes the people under his charge to be equally hard, so they might endure the
dangers that lurk so close to the edges of Combe. He is well-versed in old lore, maintaining a vast library of ancient books and tomes in his estate. In secret, he meets
with Rangers of the North, who patrol the land around the ruined High House of Combe, trading news and providing aid where he can.

Should the Player-heroes prove themselves to be both allies of the Free Folk and capable of keeping his secrets, they might find a benefactor in Oswald, who may
permit regular use of his library for research.

Any Ranger of the North or other character able to win over Oswald is able to make use of his collection of ancient texts, and gains advantage on Intelligence (Old Lore) checks related
to the history of Bree-land and Arnor.

GOBLIN RAIDS
Word of a Troll raiding the livestock of Combe has begun to circulate, after
years of peace. This time, it is not simply the disappearance of a wayward
ewe or sow. No livestock has been stolen. Instead, they are found savagely
butchered, with hunks of their bodies carted away while the remnants are left
on the side of Bree-hill to rot. The people of Combe haven’t asked for
assistance, but rumours of this have reached as far as Bree.

An official intervention on the part of the Bree-wardens has been dismissed,

and the people of Combe have demonstrated to be unwilling to cooperate,
regardless of the obvious danger. Maybe the Player-heroes can convince the
locals to let them inquire on the matter?

After scouting the grazing fields on the first night of their visit, the Player-
heroes discover signs of an unsuspected culprit: A band of Goblins! Tracking
them to an abandoned Troll-hole hidden in the side of one of the hills to the
north, the Player-heroes must drive them out before news of their success
draws more Goblins down from the Weather Hills to raid the village itself.

Staddle
The village of Staddle is barely a stone’s throw from Bree proper, just on the other side of the Hill. In fact, many Bree-folk consider it more a suburb of Bree—much to
the consternation of the many Hobbits of the Tunnelly family that call Staddle their home. As populated by Hobbits as it is by Men, nearly two dozen stone homes
serve as the residences of the Big Folk who dwell there.

The majority of the Hobbits in Staddle are not only related to the Tunnelly family line, but also make their home in smials dug into the eastern side of Bree-hill. These
underground homes are all interconnected by a series of tunnels that go deep into the ground, allowing kinfolk and cousins to visit one another without ever going
above ground. This great network of smials is known locally simply as “the Smial”.

Most folk in Staddle, whether Big or Little, are quite welcoming to visitors coming from Bree, or who slip off the great East Road to quench their thirst at the
Lamplighter Inn. The Lamplighter itself is cosy and warm, built more to suit the Hobbit residents of Staddle than local Men or far off visitors. It serves the finest fare
outside of The Prancing Pony, personally prepared by the proprietor, Karla Tunnelly. Visiting guests looking for a room for the evening will find warm, if a bit small, beds,
and a good night’s rest that ends with a robust morning breakfast of fresh eggs from local chickens and rashers of crispy bacon.

Anyone who does make trouble in Staddle is likely to face the wrath of the town matriarch, Grandmother Tunnelly. She seems to know every whisper and rumour that
passes through Staddle, and according to legend, she even stared down a company of brigands caught attempting to raid the village one night several winters ago,
fending them off with nothing more than her umbrella. Her duties are nominal at best, with her only regular obligation being presiding over the Summer Smoke Ring
Festival. Instead, it is her reputation and the general respect of the townsfolk, both Men and Hobbits, that keeps the peace in Staddle.

Adelard Took: A young, vigorous Hobbit, Adelard loves

blowing smoke rings above everything else. He was
Medium humanoid (Hobbit)
inspired by Balin, son of Fundin, who Adelard met
several times at Bag End. Balin taught him a smoking
trick or two (Dwarves are in general less experienced 10 (+0) 10 (+0) 14 (+2)
smokers than Hobbits, but show some great ingenuity
when it comes to blowing smoke rings). His prize- Champion Smoker

winning trick is a large mushroom-shaped cloud he Bold, Honourable

dubbed ‘the umbrella’.

Pipes +6

passive Perception 10

Westron

THE SUMMER SMOKE RING FESTIVAL

Every year on Midsummer’s Eve, Men and Hobbits from the many villages
around Bree-hill gather for the annual Summer Smoke Ring Festival. This
celebration of the Hobbit art of pipe smoking finds competitors trying to blow
ever-greater and more elaborate smoke rings, rings-within-rings, and even
silhouettes of birds and beasts in wispy blue clouds. For the past several
years, the winner of the Summer Smoke Ring Festival has been Adelard Took,
a Hobbit whose skill in the art of his people is said to rival even that of
Gandalf the Grey.
• Player-heroes can participate in the Festival if they so choose. The
contest is either an Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma check using
pipes (DC 20).

Failing one roll represents a lack of imagination or skill and allows the player
to continue. A second failure is a coughing fit, knocking the hero out of the
competition. If a Player-hero succeeds at the endeavour, Adelard surrenders
an elegantly crafted pipe inlaid with silver accents and a pearl stem to the
hero. The pipe is worth 1 gold piece and grants advantage on ability checks
using it.

Archet

Hidden under the southern boughs of the Chetwood, Archet lies all but invisible beneath the eaves of the forest. Fewer than twenty cabins make up what can barely be
called a proper village, and the locals greet outsiders with grim glances and sharp words. In an effort to keep outsiders from surprising them in their concealed hollow,
and to keep a wary eye on lingering dangers that might come out of the Chetwood, a number of locals have taken to living in tiny huts among the tree-tops. Even the
scant few Hobbits that make their home in Archet have adapted the ways of their people to the local woodcraft traditions, and they dig strange Hobbit-holes under the
roots of particularly large and ancient trees.

When occasional visitors come to Archet, they spend their brief stay at the Green Fletcher Inn, enjoying its warm, rustic charm and fine stout. Foreigners come here
almost exclusively to trade goods or services for one of Archet’s finely crafted hunting bows. It is said in Bree-land that the skill of the bowyers of Archet rivals that of
the Elves—a claim that is, of course, absurd, but certainly there is something extraordinary about them. But Archet locals are loath to trade their wares, even to other
Bree-folk, and demand a high price for even the least of their creations.

Archet has no mayor, and is instead led by a Forester, who serves more as a chieftain and protector of the village than as an administrator. The current Forester is Fitch
Talltree, who took up the mantle after his father was slain by a Troll while the two were on a hunting expedition between the Chetwood and the Weather Hills. Like his
father before him, Fitch is grim and proud. He leads his people with a firm but fair hand.

Unknown to all but the locals, there is a small stone fort atop a hillock between the East Road and the eaves of the Chetwood, where the villagers can watch in secret
the comings and goings of travellers on the road. To the casual observer, this fort appears to be nothing more than a ruin from ancient days, but the Forester of Archet
requires that at least one watchman be kept there at all times. Through some secret path known only to the locals, that sentry is able to alert the people of Archet long
before outsiders arrive.

Fitch Talltree, the Forester of Archet

Fitch is not quite thirty, though his wild beard and fierce eyes make him appear older. Like his father before him, he holds the protection of Archet and its people as a
sacred duty, and would gladly lay down his life to protect anyone in the tiny community. He blames himself for the untimely death of his father nearly ten years ago,
when the two were hunting a brutal Stone-Troll from the Weather Hills that his father had nearly bested in combat previously. Not only was Fitch unable to aid his
father in defeating the Troll, but the elder Talltree died saving his son from a particularly grievous blow from the Troll’s massive stone club. To this day, Fitch seeks to
alleviate his guilt over the death of his father, but fears facing the Troll alone. He is torn between this personal quest to avenge his father, and carrying out his promise
to protect the people of Archet.

Player-heroes who have proven themselves through previous adventures or have come requesting an Archet Bow, are asked by Forester Talltree to join him in his hunt
for the Troll that slew his father.

They must brave the natural hazards of the Chetwood as they move north into the Weather Hills. The Troll, knowing that Fitch has been seeking vengeance, has laid a
trap and ambushes the party as they wander the region. Eventually the party tracks the Troll to a dark and crumbled ruin in the Weather Hills, where the creature is able
to hide from the sunlight—but Fitch is consumed by his lust for revenge and the Player-heroes must find a way to defeat the brute as the Forester charges headlong
into battle – and likely his death.

+7, +5, +1, +4, +7

Medium humanoid (Man of Bree) passive Perception 17

Westron

1 (200 XP, pro�ciency bonus +2)

12 (+1) 14 (+2) 14 (+2) 10 (+0) 16 (+3) 9 (-1)
As a bonus action, Fitch Talltree can spend one Hit Die to heal himself.

Forester

Fierce, Rustic
Fitch Talltree makes two melee attacks or two ranged attacks.
14 (hide armour)
Ranged Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, range 80/320 ft., one target.
19 (3d8+6) Hit: 6 (1d6 + 3) piercing damage. If Fitch Talltree scores a critical hit, he rolls damage
dice three times, instead of twice.
30 ft.
Melee Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 4 (1d4 + 2) piercing
Cha +1 damage.

ARCHET HUNTING BOWS

Purchasing a famed Archet hunting bow is not a matter of simply paying the
right price. Player-heroes wishing to acquire a bow will need to both prove
themselves worthy and perform some great deed of service to the people of
Archet. For example, a Player-hero may address some danger in the
Chetwood or the Weather Hills, protecting a group of woodsmen who have
 encountered some trouble while felling trees in the forest, or anything else
the Loremaster deems appropriate to their campaign.

Once a Player-hero has proven worthy, they must then demonstrate that they
are a skilled archer by spending three days on a solitary hunt in the
Chetwood, and returning with a buck of no less than ten points (a DC 20
Wisdom (Hunting) check; the Player-hero can make two rolls each day, and
has three days to complete the task).

After completing this, the Player-hero can choose the Archet hunting bow as
their next reward, or replace one of their rewards with it.
• When making a weapon attack roll with an Archet hunting bow, you
can use your Wisdom modifier instead of your Dexterity modifier for
the attack and damage rolls. You must use the same modifier for
both rolls. In addition, when you score a critical hit with an Archet
hunting bow, you can roll one additional weapon damage die and add
it to the extra damage.

The Chetwood

The residents of Bree and the surrounding villages regard the Chetwood as a delightful forest to look upon from atop the hill, or even stroll under its eaves during long
summer sunsets. But this wide patch of woodland stretches much farther to the north from the slopes of Bree-hill, and is a wild place. Expanding to meet the
Midgewater Marshes on its eastern edge and the Weather Hills in the north eastern corner, at its heart it is far more diverse and mysterious than most sensible folk are
willing to discuss. Only the people of Archet know that the Chetwood can be a truly dangerous place.

Wisely, few venture into the heart of the forest, where the trees seem as old as time. Large and gnarled, with twisting roots and clawing branches, they can turn any
pleasant walk into a perilous journey, especially after sunset. Even during the day, its thick green canopy can block out the summer sun, forcing a lost wanderer to find
their way by thin beams of light broken by long shadows. Here, only birds and beasts are welcome.

In recent years, news of Orcs, wolves, and worse coming down from the Weather Hills and entering the Chetwood have reached even the Bree-wardens with such
frequency that they can no longer be dismissed as simple rumours or idle gossip. Fitch Talltree has forbidden the people of Archet from venturing too deeply into the
forest alone, and more than one of the woodsmen that dare to dwell in this area have abandoned their cabins, or worse, these homesteads have been discovered
abandoned and burnt.

The Loremaster can use the following table if Player-heroes decide to venture into the deep parts of the Chetwood or its more dangerous regions near the Midgewater
Marshes or the Weather Hills. Simply roll a d12 and consult the table below.

Travelling in the Chetwood

d12 Result Description

A Stone-Troll is tearing through the Chetwood, making no effort at subtlety or stealth. It spots the Player-heroes and
1 Troll of the Weather Hills
immediately moves to attack, in search of a fresh meal.

A Chetwood hunter fires an arrow at the Player-heroes from a concealed position some distance off. They have mistaken
2-3 Mistaken for Orcs
them for a party of Orcs in the shadowy light of the forest.

The Player-heroes come across an abandoned cabin that appears to have been ransacked by Goblins, with signs of a
4-5 Abandoned Homestead
bloody struggle.

The Player-heroes notice they are being tracked by a small pack of wolves. If they don’t succeed on a DC 15 Wisdom
6-7 Hunted by Wolves
(Hunting) check to throw them off, they’ll likely attack in the coming hours.

Caught in a morass of mud concealed by a layer of leaves and lichen, the characters sink and find themselves trapped.
8-9 Sinkhole They will need to succeed on a DC 15 Strength (Athletics) check, otherwise the struggle to get free will cause them to
suffer one level of exhaustion and lose a day of travel.

Goblins have come down from the Weather Hills to scout the Chetwood. They have spotted the Player-heroes and will try to
10-11 Goblin Scouts
ambush them.

The Player-heroes encounter the Forester of Archet himself. Depending on the nature of their errand, he may aid them or
12 Fitch Talltree
offer them insight into the goings-on of the Chetwood. He can also easily guide them back to Archet.

The Midgewater Marshes

East of the Chetwood, the ground falls steadily, and soon becomes damp and boggy. This flat expanse of country is dotted by pools of water, lined by patches of reeds
and rushes. Keeping a proper course becomes difficult, even for experienced travellers, as no tracks can be made out among the shifting quagmires. After a few miles,
one enters the proper Midgewater Marshes, a treacherous wetland owing its name to clouds of tiny midges.

No one goes into this marshland, unless they must flee from mortal danger. Camping is cold and uncomfortable, and the insects make sleeping a misery—because if
the midges were not enough, the bog is also infested by a noisy relative of the cricket that never ceases to squeak, all night long.

The Great East Road

MAP: THE GREAT EAST ROAD

No Man, Dwarf, or Hobbit in Eriador can recall a time before the East Road – it is likely that its history reaches into the misty past of previous ages of the world. The
Dwarves claim it began in the Iron Hills, far to the east beyond the Misty Mountains, beyond even Erebor. From those distant peaks it runs all the way to the Grey
Havens on the Gulf of Lhûn.

Originally built to facilitate swift travel between the many Dwarven kingdoms of the Elder Days that have since fallen, the East Road is still widely used today by all
manner of travellers in Eriador – though it is by no means safe or kept in good repair, save in the Shire where those peaceable people maintain their ancient duty, all the
while hoping that no outsider would bother coming through their land at all.

The quality of the East Road is inconsistent at best, with some stretches running for miles as paved stones and well-packed earth, while at other times it seems little
more than a wide muddy scar across an abandoned landscape. Merchants and wanderers who make use of the East Road are likely to see broken towers and ruined
castles that have been reclaimed by time or fallen to neglect.

As far as the Bree-land is concerned, the East Road is its lifeblood. Merchants from the Blue Mountains pass on through it and continue further east as in olden days,
to trade with their kinfolk on the other side of the Misty Mountains or the Men of Dale. These adventurous merchants arm themselves well for such a journey, for the
road is long and hard and fraught with peril. Between the trees that loam over the road, one can see distant hills occupied by broken castles. Travellers describe them
as having an evil look, as if they had been built by wicked people. Strange lights can be seen lingering inside them on cold, moonless nights.

The East Road is full of dangerous people and strange locales. Loremasters can roll a d12 and consult the table below if they wish to add a bit of flavour to the Player-
heroes’ journey on this long path.

Encounters on the East Road

d12 Result Description

The Player-heroes stumble too close to a Troll’s lair and awaken a Stone-Troll! It lumbers out and attempts to slaughter
1 Troll-hole
them for a fine meal!

While travelling, a strange howling wind blows through the broken stones of a nearby ruin. It is unnaturally cold, and its
2 Mournful Stones
melancholy takes hold in the characters’ bones.

Walking past what seems a dense thicket of brambles, the Player-heroes spot the fallen statue of some ancient king of
Men. It is shaped like a grim and resolute warrior, now covered in dirt and worn by time. But at its feet, a wreath of flowers
3 Fallen King
grows, and anyone who examines it and succeeds on a DC 15 Intelligence (Nature) check can identify the plant as
Kingsfoil. A sprig of it can be harvested, allowing a hero to use it as if it was a healer’s kit (1d10 uses left).

4 Carrion Eyes A flock of ill-tempered crows watches the characters, flitting from tree to tree, stone to stone, for a mile or so before
suddenly taking flight and heading to the mountain ranges to the north. Are they spies for the Goblins of Mount Gram? Or
 d12 Result Description

worse, for Angmar itself?

A small pack of wild wolves stalks around the Player-heroes as they camp or walk upon the East Road at night. If not driven
5 Predators in the Firelight off with a DC 15 Charisma (Intimidation) check, they will attack. Fearsome, but ultimately cowardly, they will flee if they
discover that the Player-heroes are no easy prey.

While passing close to a half crumbled stone tower, the sunlight reflects off an unblemished wall of the ancient structure,
6 Sun Upon the Stone
and for an instant, a hint of its original greatness is revealed.

A Dwarf merchant returning to the Blue Mountains is injured and weary from his travels, and asks the Player-heroes to
7 Lost Merchant
guide him to the nearest farmstead. If they aid the Dwarf, the merchant will reward the heroes with 10 silver pennies each.

Masquerading as an innocent traveller who has been separated from his companions, a Highway Robber will attempt to
8 Highway Robbers
lead the Player-heroes a short distance off the road and into an ambush where several of his allies wait.

As the sun fades, the Player-heroes see a cold light twinkling in the window of a broken tower near the horizon. The light
9 Strange Stars in High Towers
seems to linger and follow them, dogging their steps from a distance before vanishing into the night.

A Goblin Archer starts to track the Player-heroes. If they do not notice or detect him with a DC 15 Wisdom (Perception)
10 Goblin Scouts
check, that night they will be ambushed by his allies.

Upon the banks of the Hoarwell or another body of water, the Player-heroes see a beautiful maiden singing a sad song of
11 Song of Kings the Elder Days in Sindarin. She looks at them, offers a melancholy smile, and fades from existence… though the song
lingers on for a few moments.

The company is being followed, but their pursuers reveal themselves to be Rangers of the North, and offer to guide the
12 Rangers characters for a brief time on their journey. The Company has advantage on the next Wisdom (Travel) check made while on
the East Road.

The Forsaken Inn

On the eastern edge of the Bree-land there is a ramshackle wooden hovel that is easily mistaken by the casual observer for a forgotten and abandoned cabin, rotting by
the road. It is only the steady stream of unsavoury characters trickling in and out of the crooked front door that reveals it to be an inn – if only in the most broad sense
of the word.

Aptly called the Forsaken Inn, this establishment attracts patrons fitting its appearance and name. Criminals, desperate wanderers, and those who are best avoided
seek refuge here, drinking the worst kind of swill, and sleeping on flea-infested mattresses set out beneath the leaky roof of the common room. Those who complain
of a draft in the evening are given a lice-ridden blanket and charged an extra silver penny for the privilege.

Even the ill-favoured Rangers of the North do not often go here. The proprietor, who refuses to give his name even to paying customers and is then called simply ‘Jack
the Forsaken’ by most, has no concerns about who enters his establishment, as long as they have silver to spend. Unfortunately, those with coins to pay had best sit
with their backs to the wall, lest a patron make quick use of a dagger and relieve them of their wealth.

OVER THE EDGE OF THE WILD

For those who travel east along the road, there are still many miles from the
Forsaken Inn to the Last Bridge and then from there to the High Pass over the
Misty Mountains. The wide land on the other side of the mountains is known
as Rhovanion, the Wilderland. There are many good reasons for such an
ominous name. Not only did the region once host a Dragon’s lair, but its
greater part is occupied by the forest of Mirkwood, home to Giant Spiders,
Orcs, and other dangerous creatures.

But of late the Wilderland has become a little less wild. Smaug, the Dragon
who once occupied the Lonely Mountain, was slain by King Bard and the
kingdoms of Dale and Erebor were restored. The Necromancer was driven
from his fortress of Dol Guldur in southern Mirkwood, and the inhabitants of
Rhovanion have new hope for the future. Merchants and adventurers set off
to explore Wilderland or distant Eriador, and the East Road has never seen
such traffic in the living memories of all but the Elves.

The Greenway

MAP: THE GREENWAY

The Greenway crosses the East Road at the ancient meeting of ways to the west of Bree. Once known as the North Road, it fell into disrepair long ago, and in the
vicinity of Bree it became so grass-grown that it earned its current nickname. Long ago, its north-south course joined the kingdom of Arnor to its southern counterpart,
the realm of Gondor, running for thousands of miles. On its way, it passed the great bridge at Tharbad, until it was flooded and mostly abandoned, and the crossing
reduced to a dangerous ford.

Having lost most of its traffic, the Greenway has earned a dark reputation as a dangerous thoroughfare, plagued by bandits and cutthroats. Yet, groups of honest folk
endure in small communities, spread thinly along the way. Many of these settlements are composed of a handful of homesteads, populated by refugees from Tharbad
and their descendants. Huddling together for protection, they live an isolated existence, leaving their fortified sanctuaries exclusively to trade. They are often glum and
taciturn, and may seem concerned only with their own survival in this wild, lonely place.

But the folk of the Greenway are not without kindness in their hearts, and have, on occasion, offered refuge to wayward travellers. Some still cling to very ancient
traditions, considering themselves scions of the ancient kingdom that once held all this land under its protection. Proof of their ancient ancestry, they say, is evident in
the many ruins that can be found near their settlements along the Greenway, and in the remains of the ancient buildings that are found under their very homes, every
time that anyone digs for just a few feet.

The Greenway is lined with many ancient ruins. If the Player-heroes decide to investigate such a site during their travels between Fornost Erain and Tharbad, the
Loremaster can roll a d12 and use the following table.

Ruins Along the Greenway

d12 Result Description

Long ago, wars raged across these lands as kingdoms fought against the armies of the Witch-king and each other. This
1 Corrupted Tomb tomb once held a great captain, but now it is only home to Fell Wraiths from ancient Angmar who will harass and delay the
company.

Stumbling upon the ruins of an abandoned roadside stable, the Player-heroes see a wild steed grazing in the grass. The
2 Abandoned Stable majestic beast can be calmed with a DC 15 Wisdom (Animal Handling) check. If the check succeeds by 5 or more, then the
horse can be ridden.

A battered tower stands a little distance from the road. A crescent moon is carved in stone upon its arched entryway. If the
Player-heroes climb to its top on a night with a crescent moon, they find a single soldier standing watch. The guard politely
3 The Watch Ends
asks if they are there to relieve him and if they say yes, the soldier bows and then heads downstairs – if any follow, they
lose sight of the guard.

A small ring of white stones, overgrown with beautiful wildflowers lies not far off the road. No dangerous natural predators
4 Ring of Petals and Stone
will cross the circle.

One afternoon, the Player-heroes meet an Elf who asks to walk with them for a time. She tells them that she is composing
songs to honour Menelmacar who will arrive soon. If the heroes have patience with the minstrel, then they are in for a night
5 Elven Minstrel
of song and celebration. Each hero gains inspiration. If they are rude or impatient with the Elf, she excuses herself before
nightfall and they gain no benefits.

A Southerner Raider is hobbling up the Greenway, masquerading as an injured farmer. He asks the characters to walk with
6 Southerner Ambush him to his nearby homestead, but when they arrive they find it to be a ramshackle barn where several of the Raider’s allies
ambush the Player-heroes.

A long stone wall follows the Greenway for a time here, and a handful of Orcs crouch beneath the wall, waiting for the
7 Orc Stragglers
Player-heroes to pass so they can ambush them. A DC 15 Wisdom (Perception) check detects their presence.

A great mound of stones has been scattered near the road, a DC 15 Wisdom (Perception) check reveals a large barrow has
8 Collapsed Cairn been dug down into the wet earth. Unfortunately, this makeshift tomb has become the lair of a Barrow-wight, who will
attack anyone who intrudes upon its resting place.

Once the farmhouse of someone who lived upon the Greenway, it is now a ruined pile of burnt rubble. A DC 15 Intelligence
9 Burnt Homestead (Investigation) check reveals that the occupants did not escape the fire, and that several appear to have been slain by Orc
arrows before the flames took them.

A wandering Southerner, weary and travel-worn, asks for the Player-heroes’ charity by letting him share their food and fire
10 Displaced Southerner
for the evening. If treated kindly, he will provide them with many stories about his distant country.

The characters come upon the corpse of a Man slain no more than a few days ago with vicious cuts and Orc arrows. His
clothing is tattered, and a small brooch is clasped under his cloak, in the shape of a rayed star. Anyone who succeeds on a
11 Slain Wanderer
DC 10 Intelligence check can identify him as a Ranger of the North. If his brooch is returned to his people, a small favour
might be asked in return.

The Player-heroes come upon a small keep some distance off the Greenway, tended by a lordly old man who offers them
hospitality. If they accept and treat him well by making a DC 15 Charisma (Persuasion), check that night they will dream of
12 Ancient Hospitality
the glory of the towers of Annúminas and the shining shores of Lake Evendim. By dawn, they reduce their Shadow by 1,
though in the morning the kindly old lord is gone, and there is no sign of the keep having ever been inhabited.
The Barrow-Downs

To the east of the Shire, beyond the Old Forest, rise the green-grey hills known in Hobbit-legend as the Barrow-downs. It is a maze-like country, made of grassy ridges
rising one after another, with deep green hollows in between. If on a journey, it is much wiser to travel around them, especially since the great East Road lies
immediately north of the Downs. If a traveller must pass through them, they go quickly and only when the sun is up.

By day, the scent of turf is strong and sweet, and the air itself is often still when caught between hillside and hillside, silent except for the high calls of strange birds. As
one proceeds eastward coming from the forest, the hills grow higher and steeper, their tops crowned with mounds and standing stones. When the sun begins to set, a
mist rises to obscure the landscape, slowly turning into a thick and cold fog, covering the land as a shroud.

Anyone caught in this white sea risks falling prey to the dreadful spells of the Barrow-wights, spirits inhabiting the hollow chambers buried under the green mounds on
top of the hills. These crypts served as tombs for those who once ruled over Eriador, in the time of the kings, but there is no rest for them, as their bones are stirred by
an evil will. Travellers who lose their path in the fog find themselves suddenly in the shadow of huge standing stones, and hear cold voices coming out of the ground,
calling them. If they fail to resist the call, they will be taken by the Barrow-wights and imprisoned.

The Great Barrow

Rising on one of the highest hills in the Barrow-downs, this burial mound conceals a vast underground complex, descending deep into the bowels of the earth, with
dark and cold tunnels winding into many lesser burial chambers, where dozens of warriors are entombed with their gear of war and precious treasure. The stink of
decay, stagnation, and rot chokes any who are foolish enough to push aside the great carven stone that blocks the entryway into this labyrinth of the dead.

This is the haunted lair of the Wight-king, the chief of all blighted creatures who dwell in Tyrn Gorthad. Some say he was the last King of Cardolan, buried in the Barrow-
downs before the Great Plague. Others hold him to be the malicious spirit of some fell captain who once served Angmar. What is certain is that in the ages since the
barrow was dug, the Wight-king has carved for himself a great throne room, deep in the darkness. Concealed from the light of day, he sits and festers in his own hatred,
his lust for death satiated only when intruders dare enter his domain, or on the rare occasions when he walks among the mists of the Barrow-downs under cover of
darkness. Stories of his empty eyes, his broken blade, and his terrible song have kept most would-be tomb robbers from daring to come near his domain—and those
who do are seldom heard from again.

If damage reduces the Wight-king to 0 hit points, he must make a

Medium undead Constitution saving throw with a DC of 5 + the damage taken, unless the damage is
radiant, from a critical hit, or from a weapon enchanted with spells for the Bane of the
Undead. On a success, the Wight-king drops to 1 hit point instead.

While in sunlight, the Wight-king has disadvantage on attack

17 (+3) 10 (+0) 18 (+4) 12 (+1) 14 (+2) 18 (+4) rolls, as well as on Wisdom ( ) checks that rely on sight.

17 (mail hauberk)
The Wight-king can use its Strike Fear or its Wight Song. It then makes
68 (8d8 + 32)
two long sword attacks. It can use its Icy Touch in place of one long sword attack.
30 ft.
Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 7 (1d8 + 3)
slashing damage, or 8 (1d10 + 3) slashing damage if used with two hands.
+7, +3
Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 6 (1d6 + 3)
Con +7 necrotic damage, and the target must make a DC 15 Constitution saving throw, taking
6 (1d12) necrotic damage on a failed save.
cold, necrotic; bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing from non-
magical weapons Each non-undead creature of the Wight-king’s choice that is within 60 feet
of the Wight-king and aware of him gains 2 Shadow point from Dread, resisted by a DC
poison
15 Charisma saving throw. On a failed save, a target becomes for 1 minute.
, , If the save fails by 5 or more, the target is also while frightened in this way. A
creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the e�ect
120 ft., passive Perception 12
on itself on a success. If a creature’s saving throw is successful or the e�ect ends for it,
Black Speech, Westron the creature is immune to the Wight-king’s Strike Fear for the next 24 hours.
5 (1,800 XP, pro�ciency bonus +3) The Wight-king chants a low, chilling song to subdue a creature other
than an Elf or a Wizard within 30 feet of him who can hear him with the dark
As a bonus action, the Wight-king can summon enchantment of his voice. The target gains 3 Shadow points from Sorcery, resisted by a
a magical darkness spreading from a point of the Wight-king’s choice to �ll a 30-foot- DC 15 Intelligence saving throw. On a failed save, the target succumbs to a magical
radius sphere for 1 minute. The darkness spreads around corners. Non-magical light slumber, falling for 1 minute or until it takes damage, or someone uses
cannot illuminate this darkness. an action to shake it awake. If the save fails by 5 or more, the target is unconscious for
1 hour instead and cannot be shaken awake. A creature that successfully saves against
the e�ect is until the end of the Wight-king’s next turn unless it succeeds by 5
or more, and is immune to the Wight-king’s song for the next 24 hours.

Scant few have seen the Wight-king and lived to tell the tale, but mad tomb-robbers who have come out of the Barrow-downs tell of a fleshless warrior wearing the
blackened raiment of an ancient noble. Empty black eyes burn behind a great, cracked helm, and a pitted blade is clutched in his left hand. All that is dead and yet still
lives by sorcery or the will of the Enemy is his to command.

The Wight-king leaves the Great Barrow only at night, and moves in darkness and silence across Tyrn Gorthad, singing songs of hopelessness and sorrow in both the
Common Tongue and the Black Speech of Mordor.

THE COLD STONE

At the very centre of the Barrow-downs is a hill with a wide and flattened top,
rimmed by a low raised edge. A single monolith stands tall in its middle, like a
finger raised in admonishment. Its stone surface is always cold to the touch,
even when hit directly by the light of the sun.
• Whoever climbs to the top of the hill is cursed to encounter a Barrow-
wight as soon as the night comes. Additionally, anyone touching the
monolith gains 2 points of Shadow, resisted by a DC 15 Charisma
saving throw.

The North Downs

The North Downs are a landscape of high hills and gullies, covered in grass and dotted by many ruins. They stretch in a north-eastern direction for many leagues from
where the Greenway ends, until they give way to the empty lone-lands running towards Angmar of old. Once the North Downs stood at the heart of a great kingdom, but
these wild lands are now deserted, and all that is left are broken towers and crumbling walls. The region is not entirely devoid of life though, quite the contrary—wild
hares and sheep roam the land, grazing on the lush grassland, and kestrels cross the sky searching for prey. If this place wasn’t shunned as cursed, the North Downs
would prove bountiful as a hunting ground.

Recently, a particular type of predator has made its lair in the North Downs, profiting from its ill-repute and contributing to it—a good number of reckless robbers and
brigands have found refuge in its half-ruined towers and stone homesteads. They waylay travellers along the Greenway, and exact payment from merchants heading to
Bree or returning from there, ready to disappear into the North Downs if pursued.

The presence of these bands of rogues is starting to worry those who have sworn to keep safe the land of old Arnor. Indeed, the Rangers of the North used to maintain
several of their secret refuges in hidden dales close to where the city of Fornost Erain used to be, centuries ago, and they have been forced to abandon them when the
bandits moved into the North Downs. Of course, the Rangers won’t suffer this interference for long. Talandil, a veteran Ranger and self-appointed guardian of Fornost
Erain, is already seeking help among adventurers willing to fight to free the area from the bandit threat.

Fornost Erain

In the southern foothills of the North Downs lies what remains of a great city of stone, now almost completely reclaimed by time and nature. This place is called
Deadmen’s Dike by those who live in Bree and fear it, and Norbury by the most scholarly among Shire-hobbits. But only those mysterious wanderers called the Rangers
recall its former glory as a great fortress and city built in the time of the kings out of the sea, and called Fornost Erain.

Centuries ago, the walls and towers of Fornost were broken when the city was attacked by Angmar and sacked. Though the Witch-king sat upon the throne of Fornost
for only a brief while, the defilement of the city left a scar so deep that it never rose again. In the Twilight of the Third Age, the roots of trees hundreds of years old have
broken through the stones that paved its streets, and ivy and lichen have covered its once white walls. The folk of the Bree-land call this place cursed, and none dare
dwell there. Even the most callous tomb-robbers do not cross into the ruins of Fornost Erain, for it is said that the spirits of the men who died protecting the city still
linger there, hoping to redeem their name by forbidding anyone to enter.

Only the Rangers of the North venture into that broken place, and for their bravery, they are scorned by the people of Bree, for they believe that anyone willing to live in
the shadows of the fallen city must themselves be as cursed as the place itself.

The Dome of Sight: Caved in upon itself from the weight of the years, this great, domed chamber once housed the Seeing Stones of the North Kingdom: the chief
stone that once was kept at Amon Sûl, and the Stone of Annúminas, now both lost. A part of the chamber is now underground and is still accessible from the surface.
If reached, one can observe part of the dome that hasn’t collapsed yet, a high vault covered by mosaic tiles displaying the image of a starlit sky. Some among the
Rangers say that the ceramic tiles of the mosaic still retain images of faraway places.

The Throne Room of Arvedui: Some among the older Rangers of the North talk of a vast, underground chamber, surviving intact under the ruins of what they claim was
the Hall of Eärendur, the royal palace of Fornost. It’s the throne room of Arvedui, a long hall with tall pillars reaching up towards the ceiling, carved with a craft now lost
to the ages. A raised throne stands among broken stones that fell from the ceiling, its high marble back decorated with the image of a single, many-rayed star. The
throne itself seems untouched by time.

The Records of the Last King: The life of Arvedui Last-king was ill-fated, and most of what is remembered of him concerns his fall. Few recall that in life he was
considered Elven-wise, and that he held council with many among the Fair folk. He kept many books of lore and records of these meetings in a private library, a
chamber of records now concealed beneath the ruin of his palace. Should it be discovered, its content would offer great insight into the mind of the last king and the
affairs of his final days.

The South Downs

Bordered to the west by the Greenway and to the north by the East Road, the South Downs is a range of hills running from east to west for about a hundred miles.
Dreary, empty and featureless, the hills sport little vegetation and few animals make their lairs there. The Bree-folk and the Rangers have little reason to travel across
this wild region, and avoid it whenever possible, disliking in particular the occasional miasma that drifts east from the Barrow-downs.

The Howling Hollows

Long ago, Wolves from the Misty Mountains came west into Eriador to hunt. Some never returned, and made new lairs in the South Downs, as they found the desolate
hills to offer good sanctuary.In time, they have burrowed deeply under the hills, creating a web of caves. From here, they go out at night to search for prey.

These secret hollows give shelter to a pack of a dozen Wolves, but word is spreading among the cunning beasts, and more wicked creatures are coming to the South
Downs.

Búrzgul is a wicked Orc warrior, the chieftain of a ragged band of Orcs from Goblin Gate that made the trip from the Misty Mountains to the South Downs, to join forces
with the Wolves of the Howling Hollows. Búrzgul heard of the place from his most trusted friend, a Wolf-chieftain with midnight-black fur and gleaming yellow eyes,
going by the name of Ash. For the moment, no one, not even the Rangers of the North, knows of the threat festering under the hills of the South Downs. For their part,
the Wolves and Orcs bide their time, and for the moment have made only a few careful attacks, leaving no survivors. Perhaps most dangerous of all is that Búrzgul
regularly sends runners back to larger Orc forces in both Angmar and the Misty Mountains, so news of Bree is never far from the ears of the agents of the Shadow.

+2, +4
Medium undead
120 ft., passive Perception 10

Orkish, Westron

3 (700 XP, pro�ciency bonus +2)

16 (+3) 14 (+2) 14 (+2) 10 (+0) 10 (+0) 14 (+2)
Búrzgul deals an extra 10 (3d6) damage when it hits a target
17 (orc-mail, shield) with a weapon attack and has advantage on the attack roll, or when the target is within
5 feet of an ally of Búrzgul that isn’t and Búrzgul doesn’t have
52 (8d8 + 16) disadvantage on the attack roll.
30 ft.
 While in sunlight, Búrzgul has disadvantage on attack rolls, as Melee or Ranged Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft. or range 20/60 ft., one
well as on Wisdom ( ) checks that rely on sight. target. Hit: 6 (1d6 + 3) piercing damage, or 7 (1d8 + 3) piercing damage if used with two
hands to make a melee attack.

Each creature of Búrzgul’s choice that

Búrzgul makes two melee attacks, or one melee attack and one ranged is within 30 feet of it and can hear it gain advantage on attack rolls and Charisma
attack. ( ) checks until the start of Búrzgul’s next turn. Búrzgul can then make one
attack as a bonus action.
Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 6 (1d6 + 3)
slashing damage.

Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one creature. Hit: 5 (1d4 + 3)
Búrzgul adds 2 to its AC against one melee attack that would hit it. To do so,
bludgeoning damage. If the target is Medium or smaller, it must succeed on a DC 13
Búrzgul must see the attacker and be wielding a melee weapon.
Strength saving throw or be knocked .

Characters exploring the North Downs will often stumble upon ruins and ancient testimonies of the war that destroyed this place. The Loremaster can roll on the
following table to determine what they find.

Ruins and Broken Stones

d12 Result Description

A group of Fell Wraiths rise out of the darkness of a burned ruin that projects from the fields of the North Downs like a
1 Spirits out of Angmar jagged wound. They attack, filled with malice for all who live and would dare to trespass on their long absent Witch-king’s
field of victory.

The Player-heroes uncover an inscription in Adûnaic (on a wall, a slab of marble, or on a mosaic floor, for example). A DC
2 Forgotten Words 15 Intelligence (Old Lore) check is required to translate it. The content hints at the whereabouts of one place among The
Dome of Sight, The Throne Room of Arvedui, or The Records of the Last King (see Fornost Erain).

With a DC 15 Wisdom (Perception) check, the Player-heroes discover that they are being shadowed by someone. The
3 A Lingering Shadow
mysterious spy disappears after a few hours, or if called out.

The Player-heroes discover the remains of a stone house that is still accessible. Inscriptions allow them to identify it as the
4 Home Brought to Ruin ancient home of a noble from Arthedain, but idle scrawls and foul symbols also indicate that the building suffered from the
ruin that Angmar brought upon the city.

The Player-heroes stumble upon a group of Highway Robbers in the middle of plundering what might be a tomb. Whether
5 Scavengers or not they become violent depends on how they are treated by the Player-heroes. What treasures they have on them (if
any) should be determined by the Loremaster, but their finds would typically be worth 1d3 g.

While travelling across the North Downs, the Player-heroes hear the galloping of steeds at full charge, the sound of steel on
6 Voices from the Past steel, and the cries of both the victorious and the dying. The sound appears and fades without warning, seeming to come
from all around the characters.

7-9 Unstable Foundations The earth beneath their feet gives way, and the Player-heroes tumble into a chamber of a long-collapsed building.

The Player-heroes discover a helm that, though dented and weather-worn, looks like it could easily be repaired and
10 Battered War-gear
polished. It bears the crest of the Kings of Arnor, and might once again protect a noble brow.

The Player-heroes share a dream where a warrior of Arthedain asks them to give their remains a proper burial. A DC 15
11 Restless Soul
Wisdom (Perception) check around their night camp uncovers a collapsed watchtower and the skeleton of a fallen guard.

The Player-heroes uncover a spiralling mosaic on the floor of a ruined building. A DC 15 Intelligence (Investigation) check
reveals a removable slab of marble. Under it lies a greater Hoard of treasure, hidden there before the city was plundered.
12 A Secret Hoard
Golden dishes, cups studded with precious stones, lacquered drinking horns, and a small armoury of items of worth is
secreted here.

The Weather Hills

 MAP: WEATHER HILLS

The Weather Hills rise in a long, northward undulating ridge, starting in the south where the East Road passes under the shadow of their tallest rise, the hill of
Weathertop. Overgrown walls and old, broken stonework are on full display atop these high hills, visible to any wanderer travelling on the road. The Men of the West did
not live here, but fought and died in bitter wars against Angmar—the ruins that dot the hills are what remains of ancient forts and watchtowers, and the paths and
tracks that served them. A mournful air hangs over the Weather Hills. The hilltops are bleak and treeless, and the dells deep and shadowy.

Weathertop

Weathertop, or Amon Sûl, as the Rangers call it, is the southernmost hill of the Weather Hills. On its summit once stood a tall and fair watchtower, built in the days of
the North Kingdom. It was once used to store a Seeing Stone, one of the greatest treasures that Elendil brought out of Númenor. The tower was burned and broken
during the wars with Angmar, and only a ring of stonework remains to crown the hilltop.

The Rangers of the North often come here, to watch over the surrounding land, and to pay tribute to one of the places they hold in greater regard. Those few who make
the long ascent to reach this ancient place often find encrypted notes and supplies left by the mysterious wanderers of Eriador.

Angmar
 MAP: ANGMAR

In the northern reaches of eastern Eriador, beyond the Ettenmoors and the peak of Mount Gram, lies the land that of old saw the witch-realm of Angmar. Long ago, the
Chief of the Ringwraiths himself ruled this land from his fortress of Carn Dûm, wielding fear and terror and commanding great armies of Orcs, Goblins and Hill-men. He
made war against the North Kingdom of Arnor and its successor kingdoms, destroying them. But his kingdom was obliterated in turn, when a great host of Elves and
Men came north to challenge him. He fled from the ruin of his armies, deserting them.

Now, as a new darkness descends on Eriador and smoke issues forth from Mount Doom once again, the ancient realm of Angmar seems to stir once more. A cold
wind blows from the north and all evil things feel a call to return to Carn Dûm. The Wise worry that a new servant of Sauron occupies the fortress again. Orcs are
coming north from the south and east; Trolls venture out from their hiding holes in the Ettenmoors, crossing the Grey Waste northwards. Even tribes of Hill-men from
Rhudaur have started to answer the call.

Although the High Elves and the Dúnedain keep a careful watch on its borders, few dare to venture into that desolate land. Who has explored Angmar and returned
speaks of a grey desert of gnarled trees and broken stones. Freezing winds blast down from the mountains, to bite at every traveller. It seems that winter rules all year
long in this land and that Carn Dûm itself lies still and waiting under the ice.

Beneath the snow are bare traces of the roadways that once crossed this land. Towers, encampments and entire villages lay dead beneath the cold. But at night one
can sometimes see lights in the towers and hear strange sounds on the wind. It may be that Angmar is waking up, and that may bring doom to the North and prevent
the Wise from sending any help south to combat the growing threat of Mordor.

Carn Dûm

Once the seat of power of the Witch-king of the North, this icy tower is hidden in the endless labyrinth of passes and tunnels that snake through the Mountains of
Angmar. Even though the Witch-king himself has yet to return home, rumours of rekindled forges, gathering armies, and fell sorcery occurring in the dungeons of the
broken tower are heard as far as Bree itself. Whether these rumours have any substance to them or not remains to be seen, but the growing threat of the Enemy’s
forces and their increased presence in Eriador hints at there being a terrible truth behind these dark whispers.

The Ettenmoors

Under the looming reach of the Misty Mountains is a bleak highland of fog-shrouded moors and marshland that is inhospitable to all but the hardiest. Even the Rangers
of the North are loath to travel there, for it’s a cold and unforgiving land. Its close proximity to both Mount Gram and the Misty Mountains keeps the Ettenmoors
wrapped in a thick fog that sunlight never seems to fully pierce. A great many Trolls wander this region, eager to catch wayward travellers lost in the wilderness and
devour them. So brutal are these terrible beasts that, as if driven to madness, they have even turned their attention to Mount Gram itself and on more than one
occasion raided the Goblin tunnels that are still hidden from the sun beneath the stone cliffs of that rocky terrain.

Mount Gram

A long mountain range rises west out from the Misty Mountains and marks the southern border between Angmar and the Ettenmoors. Its highest peak is Mount Gram,
a name remembered mostly in songs from the Shire as the domain of Golfimbul, who was slain by Bandobras “Bullroarer” Took during the Battle of Greenfields several
hundred years ago. In that silent and shadowy region, Orcs, Goblins, and even some Trolls have restored their numbers, now rivalling those of the days when Angmar
drove them to war. Though they remain secret, it is only a matter of time before their craving for blood and the will of their master drives them to fall once more on
Eriador.

The Trollshaws

MAP: TROLLSHAWS

In the land beyond the Last Bridge, between the Hoarwell River in the west and the Loudwater River in the east, the East Road is almost swallowed by a rough, rocky
landscape, broken only by thick patches of woodland. The horrid brutes that hide in the numerous caverns that dot the stony landscape are the source of the land’s
name: The Trollshaws. The few hardy (or foolish) travellers that dare go so far from civilization and travel so near to the Misty Mountains should be wise to never stray
from the Road.

Should some reckless wanderer step off the path, they will find broken towers and ancient castles dragged down to rubble, hidden atop the low stony highlands that
cast long shadows over the East Road, while the forests between these long abandoned buildings are filled with dangerous predators and savage foes—many of whom
have come down from the Coldfells or out of their dark holes in the Misty Mountains. Regardless of their origin, they have no love for the Free People, seeing them as
little more than prey to be slaughtered.

The Trollshaws are literally riddled with caves, opened or dug by Trolls to serve as their lairs. The Loremaster can use the table below to quickly and easily come up
with a unique location for a Troll-hole.
Troll-Holes

d12 Result Description

The Player-heroes begin to explore a cave that seems both shallow and abandoned. But looks are deceiving and when they
1 Not Alone
find their way deeper into the cave, they suddenly come face-to-face with a fearsome Great Cave-troll!

A large tree has split wide open at its base and descends into a shallow, muddy hole that serves as lair to a Stone-troll
2-3 Root Nest
Chief. It is slippery and difficult to navigate.

A once magnificent tower that has collapsed in on itself has become the home of a Stone-troll Robber. It is of dubious
4-5 Crumbling Tower
stability and could cave in entirely at any time.

A cave that goes no more than a few feet into the side of a small stone hill is as close to a traditional Troll-hole as one can
6-7 Shallow Cave
imagine, and could easily be avoided were it not so close to the East Road.

A small pool of water with a low waterfall coming off a stone rise serves as the home to a Stone-troll Robber, who wades
8-9 Behind the Falls
into the water before ducking beneath the falls and coming up on the other side in an easily overlooked lair.

The characters stumble upon a Cave-troll Slinker who is tearing away at trees and rocks, freeing an opening leading to a
10-11 Under Construction
cave.

The Player-heroes stumble upon a Troll that has been turned to stone by the sun while within sight of its Troll-hole. A DC 15
12 Abandoned
Intelligence (Investigation) check reveals a lesser Hoard.

The Last Bridge

Approximately one hundred miles east from Weathertop, a great stone bridge crosses the Hoarwell River in three arches over a deep gorge. Crossing it means entering
the Trollshaws, a very dangerous wild land. As its name implies, this bridge is the last opportunity for a wanderer to turn back and return to more civilised areas.

The stones of the Last Bridge are old and worn, often slick when rain has fallen, with little more than a knee-high barrier on each side to prevent travellers from slipping
and falling into the cold, rushing waters of the Hoarwell far below. This is taken as yet another sign of both the Bridge’s age and the impending doom awaiting any who
cross it.

Tharbad

MAP: CARDOLAN THARBAD

This ruined city lies where the Greyflood is no longer navigable for sea-going ships. Of course, this hasn’t mattered for many, many years, but there was once plentiful
commerce in Tharbad, even before the founding of the city proper. A great bridge was built first, then a fortress to guard it, and then an entire city grew up around the
crossing. Tharbad endured, through wars, plagues, and worse, though its population dwindled. It became no longer a place where travellers met, but a market town for
the locals. The latest calamity struck about 50 years ago, when the Fell Winter brought great floods in spring. The rushing waters of the swollen river could not destroy
the town itself, but the bridge was washed away, along with many people.

Yet, Tharbad was not entirely abandoned. In these years of Twilight, a former bandit by the name of Gurnow rules the city with a strong hand. He has promised to keep
the road safe, repair the bridge, and protect the surviving inhabitants from harm. He tells the folk that he has many friends in other lands and that Tharbad will be
restored. The city waits to see if his speeches will yet turn into actions.

More detailed information on Tharbad can be found in Ruins of the Lost Realm.

Lindon

MAP: LINDON

The wide seaward land to the west of the Blue Mountains is the Elven realm of Lindon. The region is what remains of the great country of Beleriand, destroyed almost
entirely in wars that only the long-lived Elves remember. Originally populated by the survivors of that land, it was for a while the greatest nation of the Elves in Middle-
earth. Gil-galad, the last king of the Noldor, dwelt there, as did Celeborn and Galadriel, before they went to Lórien. In time, Celebrimbor led many of the High Elves away
east, to found Eregion, after hearing of the discovery of Mithril in the mines of Moria.
The land of Lindon comprises Forlindon and Harlindon, the coastlands to the north and south of the Gulf of Lhûn. It once included land to the east of the Ered Luin, but
today the Tower Hills represent its most eastern borders. No Men cross into Lindon, but Dwarves still maintain some remote halls in the Blue Mountains, both north
and south of the Gulf of Lhûn.

At the mouth of the Gulf of Lhûn is Mithlond, the Grey Havens, from where the Elven-ships bound to leave Middle-earth set sail and where Círdan the Shipwright is
master. Since the death of Gil-galad at the time of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, the rule of the master of the Grey Havens is acknowledged all over Lindon.
Accounted among the Wise, he sends messengers often to Elrond, to offer and receive counsel.

The Blue Mountains

The Ered Luin are an ancient mountain range, where two of the greatest cities of the Dwarves once were
found. Nogrod and Belegost are no more, as they were destroyed at the end of the First Age, when
Thangorodrim was broken. At that time, many Dwarves went to Khazad-dûm, but the Ered Luin were
never entirely forsaken. Many halls and mines are still open and populated, especially now that the
Kingdom Under the Mountain has been restored, and there is travel and commerce between the Blue
Mountains, Erebor, and the Iron Hills. In fact, Dwarves passing along the great East Road are the most
reliable source of news in places like the Shire and Bree.

Most of the mines that are still active in the Blue Mountains are in the southern reach, below the Gulf of
Lhûn. Many Dwarves dwelling there do not belong to the House of Durin. Some veins have been worked
for thousands of years, slowly and steadily by the same family of Dwarves over the ages.

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