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flies the coop II

by Hole Dweller

/
1.
“Behind you Jamwine!” Oink called as he flung a lanky goblin over his shoulder. Jamwine spun around completely, his walking stick outstretched, tripping a goblin’s feet out from underneath. Jamwine paused, perplexed at his own sudden surge of valor. His hesitation cost him, as a rusty shield bashed across the side of his head. However, Jamwine did not fall and as he turned, found Bunkin’s hammer call to his rescue. All around them, goblins lay in heaps as the bruised dwarves stood alert and breathing heavily. And then, laughter. “You sure got a hold of that one Mr. Hamfiddle” Blob beamed at the sight of Jamwine’s emerging shiner. “Hobbit skulls would make a fine hammer I’d wager” Gobli growled. Jamwine was not amused. They had only left Needlehole heading north when they met the small Goblin parade. “What are goblins doing this close to home?” Jamwine worried. His unease was quelled as they neared the Elvish port city.
2.
Battered from battle, the party snaked along a pebble path lined with low blossoming trees. Pink petals seemed to appear suspended in mid air, the trickle of a crystal river flowed near. They had met the Elvish city of Duillond, a palatial yet somehow understated kingdom perched above the river Lhûn. Passing through the gates, the companions were astounded by a grand town center, ablaze with the scents and sights never witnessed by humble Jamwine. Quaint and dimly lit taverns housed Elven chefs creating artisan recipes unknown to simple Hobbit folk. Tall and fair figures moved throughout the city as if floating. A gentle hand rested on the weary Hobbit’s shoulder. As he turned and looked upward, a silhouetted figure spoke to him in a songlike voice. “Welcome to Duillond travelers. I am the one they named Nathronwen, and will be your council on this respite. Come, follow.”
3.
“Nathronwen! This Elvish spirit grants vigor!” Jamwine spluttered. The sweet mead poured freely throughout the evening, which seemed to endure for aeons among the wooded haven. Nathronwen smirked. Jamwine and the dwarves enjoyed drink and feast all through the night, leaving their adventures behind them.
4.
Stepping out from the well deserved evening of merriment, Jamwine walked onto an empty balcony. The moon illuminated the tiny evanescent particles that hovered upward away from the thunderous falls below. Every surface shone with blooms of light. Maybe it was the Miruvor buzzing throughout the Hobbit’s body, but something had awakened in his spirit this night. Alas, a pit formed in Jamwine’s belly as he recalled their past adventures. The goblin encounter. The Shire. Home. The world seemed very different far away from his belching pond. Could he ever return to such a life? Nathronwen walked out onto the balcony. “What troubles you Jamwine”? Jamwine looked on silently. “I fear this journey brings peril” he whispered. “You remind me of Mungo” she replied. Jamwine rose to attention suddenly with an apprehensive surprise, “You knew my Pa?” he muttered back. “Your father was an adventurer much like you Jamwine” “I’m not an adventurer!” Jamwine barked back. “Well of course you are. In fact, your father made this same journey many years ago” “Bah, journey” Jamwine rolled his eyes. “He left, nothing more to the story.” Nathronwen approached Jamwine closely. She emitted a soft white glow reflected from the elvish lanterns that adorned the columns of the balcony. “Do not think that this trek is but mere wandering, young Hobbit. By some fortune, Mungo has led you this far”. Reaching into his pocket, Jamwine uncurled the note he had discovered in the Bindbole Wood. “This handwriting looks oddly familiar”, he pondered.
5.
Jamwine woke to beams of sunlight blasting through arched clerestory windows like tubes of golden fire. The smell of morning confections aroused him from his sloggy haze. He sat and thought about what Nathronwen had mentioned the night before. Jamwine scoffed, “Bah, how could my Pa have anything to do with this dreadful journey”. The night at the Floating Log was a bit of a blur to him. Stumbling down to the overgrown field. The grazing cattle. The winding path. The path his father walked so many years ago. The last time he saw Pa. “Get a move on” A gravelly voice retched from the corridor. The dwarves had already packed up their belongings, and were gathering outside. Jamwine collected himself and hurried towards his party.
6.
The team clinked their glasses together and hailed to the elves as they downed their pungent parting delite. The act was short and sweet.
7.
Traveling northward, the caravan heaved in the heat of the midday sun which was exaggerated by the lack of shade as the land before them turned barren and mountainous. A distant hawk's screech echoed in a cloudless sky. “We’ve got company” Blob bellowed. “I see nothing”, Oink uttered. He was partly right, not a tree in sight and only low lying rubble paved the path. Hardly a place for a snoop to sneak. Without moving his head, Blob looked to the sky. “The hawks, they’ve been following us now for miles. Someone has sent them. Whatever it is we are seeking, it must be pretty important”
8.
As the party met the height of the hills, their surroundings became dense and green. The air is cool. Amongst them are crops of ancient stones that stretch on through forgotten pathways into broken forts. Jamwine shivered. “Quite a dreadful unease ‘round these ruins”. “Straight ahead”, Gobli commanded. “Them ruins is where we seek”. The ruins of Emyn Hoedh. It wasn’t only the terrain that kept travelers from exploring this forlorn citadel. Nor was it the sickly black murk that painted the stones. Stories of a ghastly presence haunted these grounds. “I hear the bravest riders dare not explore this bastard wasteland”, Bunkin babbled. The cart halted. The caravan jumped to the ground, collected their sacks, torches and weapons, and approached the ruins’ crumbled entrance. One by one, dwarf and hobbit crawled through the small opening that remained of the old crumbling fort. Water could be heard trickling in the distance. “Don’t look up if you’re squeamish lads” a voice belched from the front of the line. The trickling sound grew nearer. Jamwine held his torch to the stone ceiling. “The walls are moving? What is this sorcery?” he thought. As his eyes adjusted to the dim cavern, he realized it was not water they were hearing, but the sound of millions of tiny legs writhing atop one another. Giant centipedes, crickets and spiders adorned the walls all around them. Jamwine’s coat and trousers quivered as spiny vermin made their way in and scurried beneath. Right away, the stubby allies took off running, tugging at their squirming garments. As they shook the last bit of crawlers from their clothes they admired that the tunnel had opened into a large abandoned sanctum, with small bits of light streaming in from high above. The skeletons of failed explorers hung chained, suspended from the heights and draped in decrepit cloth. They creaked and swayed in a curious draft that swept through the galleries. “They look like ghosts”, Jamwine hummed. All around them were passages, some blocked from crumbling stone, others obscured thick with cobwebs. One mighty portal filled with light. “There” Gobli croaked. “That is where we will find the treasure” “Treasure?” Jamwine thought. He was not so sure.
9.
The party meandered through the twisting halls. Eerie hisses and wails seemed to echo throughout. As they nosed their way through they met a small room, and the source of the suspicious glow. Before them, a large treasure room. Mounds of gold and finery shimmered in the light that crept through the cracked stone above. The group stood silent and in awe for only a moment, followed by a sudden dwarven raucous. “The treasure!” Blob shouted. The dwarves raced through the piles of riches, goblets and coins clanking. Jamwine stayed centered, much less interested in the gold as he was a curious tomb-like box in the center of the room, the lid slightly agape. An eerie blue light surged from within the rusty crate. Jamwine inched near, eyes agape as if possessed by a dark force. He reached his hand inside, and clutched a cool, smooth stone. Suddenly, the walls of the ruins began to groan.
10.
As the ancient ruins grumbled and shook, dust and pebbles fell loose onto the party. “Jamwine!” one dwarf shouted. The Hobbit stayed stuck in place, unable to detach his gaze from the light within the coffer. “Jamwine, we must leave!” Blob bellowed, ripping the bewildered Hobbit away from his hypnotic spell. The alliance made haste as they dashed through the stone corridors of the ruins. Stone bricks caved to the floor beneath their feet. Gold coins and trinkets clinked to the ground, as they leapt from the pockets of the galloping dwarves. Just as the party reentered the sanctum, a goblin horde 30 strong, surrounded the exits. “There’s too many!” Oink ordered. A clanging of swords and hammers echoed in the halls obscured by plooms of debris as the goblins and dwarves tangled themselves among the dense spiderwebs and falling rock. Using his sleuth and sword, Jamwine sliced through blockage as he rushed to the exit. A plume of dust exploded around him. The ruins had been closed off, forever. Jamwine sat crouched as he huffed and choked. The dust settled, and the hobbit pulled himself up to rally his group. The sun was setting behind the green rolling hills. Amidst the overgrown grassy cloister, Jamwine realized he was alone. The dwarven company had met their fate…
11.
Jamwine traveled exhausted and injured, finally returning to the city of Duillond. Meeting with Nathronwen who mended the halfling the best she could, although nothing could mend the loss of his newfound friends. His strength was regained after many nights. Jamwine sat, bags packed, eager (but hesitant) to return to the Shire. “Nathronwen”, Jamwine muttered. “Something has changed in me, I fear it. A presence is lurking. I have felt it in my dreams”. The elf nodded. “I too have felt its presence”. Her eyes transfixed on a dull blue light that shimmered from Jamwine’s vest pocket. Swiftly closing his pocket, the halfling slowly heaved himself from his chair. “Are you strong enough to journey back to Frogmorton?” the elf pleaded. “Yes, I must take my leave now” as he clutched a freshly carved elven walking stick. “Please”, Jamwine mumbled as he handed Nathronwen a wax sealed note “Send your messengers to Frogmorton with this note. I have a friend who may be waiting on me”. Jamwine departed the elvish city, making his trek home the way he came. The hobbit’s adventure was over, as he quietly stepped into the dark line of trees of the Bindbole Wood. The only trace of legacy left behind were his small muddy footprints. And footprints are easily followed… THE END?

about

This album is considered as being the 2nd part to Jamwine's "Flies the Coop" tale of adventure.
In the story chronology, this album continues right where Flies the Coop left off at Needlehole and explains what happened in his quest for treasure with his newly founded company of dwarves. Flies the Coop 2 is the missing link between Flies the Coop and Returns to Roost, thus completing the first story arc.

ALL FORMS OF PHYSICAL MEDIA COMING SOON VIA DUNGEONS DEEP RECORDS.

credits

released August 13, 2020

All music written and recorded by Tim Rowland.

Logo by Lord Tetrarch.

Cover illustration by Paul Noble.

Story outline by Tim Rowland. Story written by Lord Tetrarch.

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Hole Dweller Athens, Georgia

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