Gramm stood, coin in hand, and weighed his options. It did not take him long to make up his mind, and he headed back towards the Red Menace. He inquired of Preston about getting some hot water brought up to his room so that he could get the blood and sweat of battle washed off. Who could tell when he would have the opportunity again? He also asked for a poultice to bind up the cut on his forehead. After bathing and and having his clothing laundered, Gramm headed back downstairs to have another pint or two. Pulling a stool near the large hearth, the big man took a curved pipe from his pouch and packed it with care. As the sweet smoke swirled around his head, he pondered the events leading up to the attack and all that he had seen during the battle.
Something was not right. He could feel it in his bones, but could not identify what it was that was bothering him. It was increasingly apparent that this attack had been no coincidence, but Gramm couldn't figure out how so many evil creatures were able to arrive so quickly. No, they had to have already been amassing for some other purpose, to have congregated in such large numbers. It would take some more thinking to puzzle through all of this, but Gramm knew that he needed to be well rested for the journey. Turning the pipe upside-down and tapping the ashes out against his boot, Gramm went back upstairs to his too-small bed.
The next morning he arose early, carefully took stock of his belongings and made a mental note of the things that he would need to collect before meeting the others. After a quick breakfast in the inn's common room, he headed out to gather his supplies. A couple of quick stops later, Gramm had enough provisions to last him several weeks if he watched his portions, and found himself at the armorer's shop. Racks of weapons and shelves lined with gleaming armor greeted him. Laying his heavy staff on the counter, Gramm selected a medium length sword and a buckler that strapped to his arm. They felt so foreign. He far preferred to get to grips with his foes, but he knew that there were times when steel in your hand was mighty useful and the battle had proven that this journey would not pass without incident. He also selected a leather half-helm from the neatly arranged armor and counted out the coins to pay the shopkeeper. None of his purchases were terribly expensive, and at least appeared to be sturdy, if not handsome.
His chores completed, Gramm headed towards the main gate, knowing that the others would be headed there soon. He found Dwalvyn, Cyllamdir and Albaron already assembled near the gate. Gramm walked up just in time to hear the Dwarf asking the Elf about possible routes.
"Though you did not address me, sir, I feel I should give what advice as may help the group. My advice would be to follow the northern border of Mirkwood until we have passed its northern reaches before descending again into the Vale of Anduin. From there, my people will be able to offer assistance and we would be able to take the high pass across the Misty Mountains under their protection. This, to me, seems the most prudent route, as it avoids the dangers of Mirkwood and the unwelcoming dark of Moria. If we make haste, we could make up for the lost time spent skirting the forest with an easy mountain crossing. Beyond the Misty Mountains, though, I am at a loss, for I have never explored their westernmost hills."
_________________ Respectfully, Jonathan Do what is right, love mercy, and walk humbly Battle Companies
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