1.0 - The Marsh Bell

The rest of the Fellowship can see that the parchment is a written and illuminated document, extravagantly wrought -- as a message from a King should be.

Inar nods as he reads the note "This is the invitation to the king of the Eagles and that" he points to the gem "is a gift to go along with it" he thinks for a moment before folding the note back into the necklace and closing it inside the box once more. Inar's face is dark as he ponders the closed box "This was Balin's charge, I cannot believe he would have left it behind willingly and abandoned his duty. Either he was taken from here or believed it was safer leaving it."

"Where do we go from here then?" asks Frór, "deeper into the mucky forest on foot, or do we keep floating south, skirting the eves of this dark wood? If Old Balin was to bring this gift to the king of eagles, then he wouldda kept heading south, right? The big bird king lives over in the Misty Mountains somewhere, don't he? So then Old Balin, he'd go around the south edge of this dread forest and come back up north to the eagle king's house around the long way, right? Lord Balin wouldn't actually go inside the forest? Right...?"

Robin only crosses his arms and frowns with uncertainty.

"Our task is to find Balin, we need to press on with that unless we find proof of what happened to him at the very least. I doubt he would have pressed on with his mission without the message and gift for the king of the Eagles" he thinks for a moment "Perhaps now would be a good time to look into what was making those lights."

Bouncing with excitement thinking about the King of the Eagles, Gilly is brought back to the seriousness of their mission.

"Yes, let's. We know they went south, so we can always pick up their trail again later."

"Well, if the folk carrying those lights waylaid or interfered with Lord Balin, then let's have at them!" exclaims Frór as if he had a sudden revelation. The son of Grór looks around for Gilly's markers, picks up his gear and walking stick and immediately heads in the indicated direction.

The lights from the evening past evening are a little bit of a backtrack -- you know that Balin's path would have taken him south to the Old Forest Road -- and that's still quite a few miles distant. You're able to meander through the marsh, staying to solid ground, until you reach a small pool of stagnant water. At first blush, there's no particular sign of anything interest. The odor of the pool is reasonably foul, and the reeds that sprout from it look sickly and twisted -- like much of the Long Marsh.

Not wanting to sully his fancy walking stick, Frór picks up a nearby branch and pokes around in the foul water. He leans in and sniffs while trying to peer through the murk. He will examine the pond's edges too...

Inar pokes around r=the edges of the pool trying to find anything of note

Robin's nose is pinched tightly between his thumb and forefinger as he eyes his surroundings.

Gilly peers about curiously.

You each look to one another and shrug -- near as you can tell, nothing exciting ever happens here. Whatever the lights were, they are gone and nothing shows any sign of where they came from (not a fire, or a fire pit, for example). There's also no sign of any tracks into or out of here that show obvious movement.

"It's just a stinky pond," assesses Frór, "let's get to the boats and keep heading south. Old Balin is waiting!"

Inar grunts in agreement "Aye lad, let's be moving on. We're wasting daylight"

"The sooner the better," Robin adds, wrinkling his nose.

Gilly nods, disappointed.

Southward you journey in your boats -- Balin's box tucked safely amongst your supplies and secured to the boat. By midday you have moved southward enough to pass by where the Rotting River merges with the River Running and you are not far from the Old Forest Road -- the path you know Balin and his kin were due to take.

Robin renews his pipe and spends a good bit of time pondering the path that Balin had taken. His eyes search about for any helpful sign of the Dwarves.