3. Wyvern Tor

Igrem politely thanks Elsa for everything, but does not talk much otherwise. He prepares himself and share his breakfast with the others, in order to get ready as fast as possible to meet the head of this farm's family.

"Thank you for the meal Ms Elsa." Redhawk will eat some bread and cheese and drink a bit of milk. "Maybe we should have this talk with Master Tezrin here in private." After eating and before their talk Redhawk will move outside to look around the area the orcs entered and left last night.

"Agreed, Redhawk, let us finish this fine breakfast and then confer with Goodman Tezrin when he returns from his morning's chores."

Elsa smiles, gathers the empty basket, leaving the food behind for you to finish at your leisure.

"I'll leave you to it. Father shouldn't be long."

With that, she steps outside, quietly closing the cottage door behind her.

---

Redhawk, the orcs came and left exactly as you remembered. Their trail is much easier to read now, but it reveals nothing you did not already know. Three orcs approached the farm, lingered only long enough to leave their message, then departed without scouting the buildings or attempting to conceal their tracks.

The footprints lead steadily east.With a little time, you're confident you could follow them wherever they ultimately returned. Finding nothing else of significance, you make your way back to the guest cottage.

---

Not long after Redhawk returns, there's another knock at the door.

This time it is Narth Tezrin himself.

He enters alone, removing his broad-brimmed hat before quietly closing the door behind him.

The old farmer looks more tired than he did yesterday. Whether from worry over Joren or from a restless night's sleep is difficult to tell.

His eyes settle on each of you in turn.

"I appreciate everything you've done already," he says. "Elsa tells me you wanted to speak privately."

His gaze drifts briefly toward the table, where the folded parchment and orcish dagger rest. His expression grows more serious.

"I've a feeling," he says quietly, "that there's something you haven't told my family."

"Yessir," Boggart says, "we kept this note to ourselves until we had time to tell you. Last night, three orcs came to the farm as you slept and left this. They departed shortly after."

Boggart waits for the man to read it before continuing. "We wanted cooler heads to hear the news, and perhaps we can collaborate to deal with the problem we are charged with fixing."

Narth says nothing for several long moments before carefully laying the note back upon the table.

"So..." he murmurs. "It's come to this."

He lets out a weary sigh and rubs the bridge of his nose.

"For years orcs and goblins would steal a sheep here, a sack of grain there. We'd curse them, mend the fences, and get on with life. But this..." He taps the parchment with a calloused finger. "...this is tribute. They mean to make us pay for the privilege of living on our own land."

His gaze rises to meet yours.

"Tell me honestly... Do you think these orcs took my son? What do you propose? Should we answer them? Ignore them? Or should we strike before they think us weak?"

He folds his hands upon the table.

"And if my boy still lives... How do we find him without getting more people killed?"

Redhawk wondering about the boys disappearance will ask"Master Tezrin do you believe any of the humans in this area could be working with the orcs? It looked like your boy was talking to humans and then left with them. The orcs can through that quite a bit later. Maybe the humans convinced your boy to go with them and then turned him over to the orcs." He will pause a second"I am just speculating here. I have know idea if the orcs have you son."

"When you say humans, do you mean one of my neighbors? Or strangers? Bandits?"

He shakes his head.

"If it's one of the local folk, I'd find it hard to believe. We've all known one another for years. We lend tools, share seed, help each other. Men argue, certainly, but selling a neighbor to orcs..." He grimaces. "No. I'd sooner believe wolves had learned to plow fields."

His expression darkens.

"But strangers... that's another matter. If the two men you met weren't from around here and my son willingly walked away with them, then either they convinced him they could help... or they gave him a reason not to refuse."

Alex speaks softly, but firmly. "Goodman Narth, if you are asking for my personal and professional opinion as a student of sapient beings, their foibles, and their responses to different stimuli, then I would say my best estimate is that your son was not abducted by orcs."

Alex starts ticking off his fingers. "Primus, there was no sign of any struggle. No blood, no scuff marks, no torn clothing. That alone argues against orc abduction."

Alex ticks off a second finger. "Secundus, Not only do there seem to be no sheep missing, Joren's own meal was still in his satchel, together with a whetstone and a whistle. A whistle seemingly unblown, based on the docility of the sheep we found hours later."

Alex now uses his left index finger to extend his ring finger. "Tertius, and perhaps most importantly, whomever made the marks we associate with that of the shepherd met two humans or humanoids—lighter in weight and smaller of foot than orcs—and seemed to go off with them, peacefully. Now, what happened after Joren left with these two people is another question, but the story the meadow tells is not one of orcish abduction."

Reaching his pinky, Alex continues. "Quartus, a few hours later, some orcs did arrive, surveyed the scene, and then marched on. There were no human footprints with that group."

Alex pauses and mutters, "I seem to have run out of fingers. Well, one for the thumb, I reckon!" Making good on his word and extending his right thumb with his left forefinger, Alex begins his conclusion. "Quintus, we did find a broken crook. While this is absolute supposition, but it is possible that Joren met with two friends, had a friendly sparring match in which he broke his staff, and went off with them to search for a replacement. A complete guess, but still more likely than orcish abduction of Joren in the meadow. But once again, I must be frank and say there is nothing telling us that he did meet orcs somewhere other than the meadow."

With this, Alex stops and looks to see if there is any juice left from breakfast. All that talking made him thirsty.

"It is also possible that the Temple of Truth is involved in this." adds Igrem, with a stern face. "In any case, we would like to ask you to refrain from harsh actions before we have the time to investigate. I know it is much to ask, but things are much too fuzzy right now to draw definite conclusions. Leave us at least a couple of days to go back to you, and then you can decide on the best course of action." The mage looks intently at the farmer. "Do we have a deal?"

Boggart nibbles on some nuts, quiet as he can, as his friends lay out their arguments. Feeling that there is nothing for him to add, he keeps his silence.

Narth listens without interrupting. When Alex finishes, the old farmer nods slowly.

"You make a fair case."

Then Igrem speaks.

Narth falls silent again. After a significant pause, he clasps his hands together and answers in a measured tone.

"I'll give you the couple of days you've asked for—if I can."

He gestures toward the window, beyond which the neighboring farms lie scattered across the rolling countryside.

"You have to understand that this isn't just my problem. There are families all around these hills. We trade with one another, help each other at harvest... If this message was left only here, perhaps we could keep it quiet for a day or two. But what if it wasn't? What if the orcs visited every farm last night?"

A pause

"If word spreads that the orcs are demanding tribute, there'll be plenty talking about gathering every able-bodied farmer with a spear and marching on Wyvern Tor. I'll do what I can to keep cooler heads prevailing. I owe you that much after you brought my sheep home and spoke honestly to me about what you found. But I can't promise to hold back an entire valley."

Meeting Igrem's gaze, he gives a firm nod.

"So yes... we have a deal. But I can't speak for the others. "

At the mention of the Temple of Truth, however, genuine puzzlement crosses his face. He slowly shakes his head.

"I've never heard of it."

"Thank you, ser," Boggart says, "we'll do our best to earn the trust you've shown us." At this he gives his best bow (a sloppy facsimile of one he had seen Alex perform), which Puck also attempts to emulate.

Redhawk will listen to the convo. "Well I should be able to track these orcs easy enough. Maybe after we find them we hang around hidden and see who comes and goes for a day or two."

"That is the right decision, Narth, and it is well understood that you can only speak for your house. We should be on our way soon enough. One last question, though: has anyone in this farming area actually seen the orcs perform unlawful or genuinely hostile acts? If not, how has it been determined that they are the perpetrators?" answers Igrem while getting up, showing his willingness to be on the move quickly.

Narth shrugs.

"Mostly because they're orcs. For a lot of people, Tomas included, that's reason enough. You know how folks are. If a sheep goes missing or a wagon is robbed, they'll blame the nearest orcs before they know a single fact."

He pauses for a moment.

"But if you keep treating someone like a monster, sooner or later they may decide to act like one.The ones around Wyvern Tor certainly seem to have embraced the role now. Recently, they were raiding, stealing, threatening travelers... That's why we asked for help from Phandalin. And now they are demanding tribute."

He gives a grim nod.

"So whatever they may have been when they first arrived, today they're behaving like the typical orcs the old stories warn about."

Alex asks whether there are other farmers the party should speak to and whether Narth could provide some sort of introduction that would make the neighboring homesteads more willing to trust a group of armed strangers asking questions.

Narth nods at the idea.

"There are a couple of farms you could visit. The trouble is that none of them are close. The nearest is still several hours from here, and the others are farther yet."

He scratches his beard thoughtfully.

"As for an introduction, I can certainly help—but I need to know what you're hoping to accomplish."

Narth explains that a written letter would not carry much weight among the local farmers. Most know him personally, and those who do not are more likely to trust a familiar face than a signature on parchment.

"If you mean to gather information, ask for shelter, borrow supplies, or persuade them to do—or not do—something, tell me exactly what you're after. I may be able to give you something better than a letter."