Besides the basics of gaming, is there a deeper reason that draws us back to LOTRO time and again? I believe there is. You only need look from the PC monitor to the television screen to know why. Real life is a muddled, complicated place. With the economy, wars, unemployment, health care issues and so much more, life is composed of a thousand shades of grey. There are truly few simple answers out there, and, solutions are so complex you wonder they will ever be solved. Of late, I have had more than a few days where I could cheerfully pull the blanket back up and stay in the security of my bed. That’s how stressful real life can be.

Contrast this with Middle-earth. While its issues are not absolutely black and white, in MIddle-earth, the differences between right, wrong, good and evil are clear as a Shire stream. When a club wielding troll comes charging, there’s no wondering what to do. The troll’s murderous intentions are plain. So is our response; we attack until he is dead. In MIddle-earth, when there is a problem, we fix it; to do so is our duty and our virtual honor. And when we carry out these duties, we are always rewarded. Always. The same cannot be said of real life, where so many things we do pass unnoticed.

As inhabitants of Middle-earth we truly are in control of our destiny. We decide when and how to act. We can take a pass on clearing wolves from the Shire, or, we can attack the issue and solve it, blade in hand. Then, victorious, we can even sell the hides for 100% profit.

Sure, LOTRO is just a game. But, if you take the philosophical view, the reward from playing it isn’t the number of orcs we kill or the amount of gold we amass. Our real reward comes when Middle-earth lifts us from the stresses and strains of real life, and we become the warriors, champions, healers and magic users that hold the solutions to every problem from Thorin’s Hall to the banks of the Anduin.

Ever since I first stepped into Durin’s Threshold I have been moaning and groaning about just how dark Moria is. I have complained, loudly at times, to anyone who would listen, how I kept falling off cliffs and running into squadrons of goblins because I couldn’t see a blessed thing.

Just last week, the Tur of my kinship handed down the best nugget of advice I’ve ever gotten about Moria. He told me you could actually turn up the light. Huh?!

Go to Main Menu, Options, Graphics and Ambient Light. There’s a slider bar that allows you to increase the lighting.

Duh!

Okay, I still feel like an idiot. All I have ever done with the graphic settings is turn them down to “low” so the game doesn’t lag out. Scan down to see what the whole page is about? Moi? But, wow, what a difference it makes! I’m seeing details in the landscape I must have ran by dozens of times. I can find my way better and feel more in control of things in Moria, rather than the opposite. Now, I still don’t love Moria. But, at least I don’t hate it anymore.

My first pony, Tobie, was a shy fellow. He moved slowly, but would do whatever I asked. The sharp sounds and stench of the battlefield made him very anxious. He was happier dozing in the shade of our apple trees than anything else. Alas, Tobie has gone on to the Golden Pastures, where I hope he has found a particularly shady spot and much sweet clover to munch on.

Currently I’ve two ponies. Snowdrop is a handsome bay gelding I was lucky enough to win at a winter festival. He is spirited and fresh as a Forochel breeze. Snowdrop keeps me on my toes from the moment I mount up, to the time I return him to the stable. But, he is sharp as a tack, and Snowdrop’s boundless energy suits him for long days on the march.

My other pony, and most dear to my heart, is Piecrust. She is the sweetest thing, fast as the wind, and fearless. Piecrust will carry me through thick and thin. She is my “Marchwarden mount,” who I call upon for battle and other kinship duties.

Lately, during my times spent in Lorien, I’ve fallen in love with the elegant, white-coated mounts bred by the Galadhrim. I have visited their pastures several times, and, I must confess that a certain pony there has caught my eye. These amazing equine specimens are aloof with strangers. As of yet, I’ve only been able to glimpse this particular pony from afar. But, I do believe that she has been studying me as much as I’ve been studying her. I’ve asked her breeder twice to purchase her. The first time, he merely said, “No.” The second time I asked, in typical Elven fashion, he gave me the faintest of smiles and replied, “Perhaps. When you have proven yourself worthy.”

So, along with aiding the Galadhrim in their battle to drive the orcs from Lothlorien, it seems I am earning the right to take that pony home to the Shire. Now, I am honoured to serve and could never turn from the battle against evil. But, still, a few days hence, as I joined a party of my kin in exploring the hidden away enclave of Nalâ-dûm, I couldn’t but blurt out…

“The things I do for a pony!”

((I’ve taken on a personal quest to give Aerhinn every reputation and festival mount available in LOTRO. Hopefully I can accomplish this before the game is no more!))

All the dialogue and emotes in the tale are straight from the evening’s log. (I just clean things up and add background details.) The RP was great! I only had a long moment of panic when we finally got to fighting. It had been so long since I’d played Lotlorell, I looked at all the icons on the toolbar, and couldn’t for the life of me remember what any of them did. Good thing I wasn’t the primary healer!

Here is…. The Captain’s Challenge

Lord Tyrthalion Sylvanstrider, Tûr of the Marchwardens, stood before ancient Tinnundir Keep. The bronze doors, green with age, were embossed with an eight-point star. Perhaps the star was a symbol of hope. Tyrthalion fervently desired that, for one of his own was in dire need of hope. He pushed through the doors and strode down the dark hall, under moldering tapestries and past an ornamental pond, its water fouled by algae. Ah, the glory was long gone from this place.

Around a pillar, he found waiting a squad of Marchwardens.

“Suilad, my kin,” Tyrthalion said. “Many thanks for answering the call to duty. A serious task awaits us. We must help one of our own this day.”

Ealfled, the only human present, Turned her attention to the Tûr. Gronar, dwarf champion, narrowed his gaze at Tyrthalion.

Tyrthalion looked around the high-ceiling chamber and sighed. “Where did she go?” Tyrthalion asked. He raised his voice. “Lothlorell, please join us. No need to be afraid of your own kin.”

After a long pause, a door creaked open. Lothlorell, an elf and minstrel of the kin, stepped from the shadows of a dim hallway. Though she was dressed in the distinctive blue Marchwarden hauberk, its cloth was creased and stained. Her face was lined with care and her hair was a mass of knots and tangles.

“Is it Lady Lothlorell?” Sophronia asked. “Gracious!”

Ealfled stood and offered her seat to Lothlorell. Gronar bowed deeply to the minstrel.

At the sight of her kin, Lothlorell froze.

The Tûr stood and saluted Lothlorell. She hesitated a moment before returning his salute. “M’Lord Tûr,” she replied. Her voice was barely audible.

“You’ve been gone so long, we thought you’d gone to the Havens,” Sophronia said. The sturdy hobbit studied Lothlorell with concern. “Where have you been?”

Lothlorell shook her head. She looked wildly around the room, not daring to meet anyone’s gaze.

Gronar wrinkled his brow in confusion. “No need to be shy. We’re all friends here!”

“Kinswoman, you must speak. This is a request from your Tûr.” Tyrthalion’s tone was low, but firm.

Sophronia nudged Ealfled. “Why doesn’t Lothlorell speak?”

Ealfled shrugged, never taking her intense regard from Lothlorell.

Lothlorell took a deep breath. She glanced from the Tûr to Ealfled.

Tyrthalion, rather loudly and emphatically, cleared his throat.

Lothlorell’s features hardened. She glared at the Tûr. “I said I would come here. I did not say I would speak!” She crossed her arms and turned her back to the Tûr.

Gasps went up. Ealfled started in surprise and threw her hands up in exasperation.

Sophronia gently took Lothlorell’s arm. “Something must be terribly wrong for you to act this way. Come, sister, we are your kin—what is wrong?”

“Renich i beth i pennen? A si i-Dhúath ú-orthor,” Tyrthalion said urgently. [Do you remember the word I told you? The Shadow does not rule yet.]

Ealfled stance softened. “Speak, I pray you, or else we cannot make things right.”

Lothlorell turned and bowed deeply, first to her Tûr and then to her kin. “Please forgive me. I’ve been alone for so long, I’ve forgotten know how to act. May the Valar forgive me, I’ve barely a right to wear our colors or to even call myself a minstrel. None of you know—know why I was away so long.”

Lothlorell took a deep shuddering breath.

“Lady Lothlorell left us because of a great uncertainty. Isn’t that right, child?” Tyrthalion said.

Sophronia sighed.

Lothlorell nodded to the Tûr. Her thin face paled and she sagged down into an empty chair.

“I was out hunting, hunting game, of all things, with my friend Glorflada,” Lothlorell said. “I have known her since she was a child. We were following the trail of a hart along the banks of the Bruinen. In truth, we had been laughing and talking so much, the beast was probably long gone. We strayed far south along the river. Our carelessness proved a grave folly.”

Lothlorell wring her hands. Deep regret darkened her eyes.

Ealfled gave Lothlorell an encouraging, if awkward, pat on the back. Lothlorell managed a weak, but grateful smile in return.

“Near the Eregion border,” Lothlorell continued, “three wood trolls sprang from the forest behind us. Before I could cry out a warning or even reach for my lute, a terrible blow to my head put me out cold.”

At the mention of wood trolls, Gronar tensed and clamped a hand on his axe hilt.

“Oh my!” Sophronia said.

“And your companion, what of her?” Ealfled asked.

Lothlorell blinked away tears. “When I came to, I was alone. I staggered to my feet, I was so dizzy. I had lost blood from a deep gash in my scalp. I wandered, in a daze, calling for Glorflada.”

Gronar and Sophronia exchanged sober, concerned glances.

Lothlorell’s gaze searched the dim corners of the echoing hall, as if looking for a memory. “Glorflada never answered. I found her body in the river shallows. Her body was cold. She had been terribly beaten, her …”

Gronar muttered an ancient prayer under his breath.

Lothlorell stopped abruptly and shook her head fiercely. She finally met the Tûr’s gaze. “I should have saved her.”

Ealfled narrowed her eyes and her voice turned steely. “Tell us more, if you can.”

Lothlorell dared a glance at Ealfled. ”I threw my lute in the river. I’d failed her as a friend and as a healer. Since that day I have been plagued with terrible dreams. Every night, I am standing in a dank cave facing an immense wood troll. His name is Heart-rot. Every night, I try to fight him and every night I run. Perhaps I would stay, if I had more courage, like a captain.”

Lothlorell looked beseechingly at Ealfled. “You would have saved her.”

“A true captain knows better to fight alone,” Ealfled said. “To run back in revenge would have been folly.”

Lothlorell chewed her lip as she considered this.

“I have heard whispers of this ‘Heart-rot’ from the local soldiers,” Gronar said.

“Doesn’t he hide across Lake Evendim?” Sophronia mused.

Gronar nodded to Sophronia. “There are whispers of how strong and evil he is, and that some have hunted him, and have failed to return. But, these could be rumors as well.”

Ealfled smiled grimly. “Then we shall be the first to return victorious. If this is the purpose for which the Lord Tûr has gathered us tonight, than this injury will not go unanswered.”

“He is real?” Lothlorell’s voice rose in near panic.

“He is indeed real,” Tyrthallion said.

Lothlorell turned to the east. “That’s the evil I feel. Loathsome creature!” She began to tremble.

“We have a minstrel in need of hope and guidance,” the Tûr said. “And a captain hoping to prove herself as a Marchwarden. Lothlorell, I knew I had but to call your kin and we would find an answer to your troubles. You must face your fears and Lady Ealfled will lead you.”

“Lady Lothlorell, I vow to you that Heart-rot shall be defeated, and that you shall find your courage again,”

“But — but, I cannot. I have no instrument! Lothlorell looked around anxiously.

“Here!” Sophronia exclaimed. She pulled a small lute out of her bag and offered it to Lothlorell. “This is a fine instrument for you.”

Lothlorell reached out a shaking hand and took the lute.

Tyrthalion fixed his gaze on Ealfled. “Lady Captain Ealfled, you will guide Lothlorell. Fight when you must, but give her your hope, your leadership and protect her under your banner. Lead her to victory against this vile corruption of a tree, and help lay her nightmares to rest.”

Ealfled gave Lothlorell a warm smile. “Do not fear, my Lady. You are in very safe hands.”

Lothlorell ventured a timid smile in return.

Gronar tightened his belt and adjusted the set of his axes. “I am ready!”

Ealfled gave her blade a quick shine. “Onward, Marchwardens!”

The kin moved out of the keep and towards the boat landing. A shouted greeting and the sound of running footsteps brought them to a halt. Lady Serenyalen, kin and champion, hurried to join them. Serenyalen blinked as she caught sight of Lothlorell.

“Brennil Lothlorell!” Serenyalen said. “Mae govannen, mellon nín. Gwenwin in enninath.” [Lady Lothlorell! Welcome back, my friend. Long years have passed.]

“Indeed they have,” Lothlorell said. “And much pain in between. But I am a bit more hopeful now.”

The kin loaded into two boats and rowed steadily and swiftly to the Eavespires. Once on firm ground, they headed north, scaling the grassy ridges and scrambling down the ravines of Northern Emyn Uial. Their steadfast pace was slowed only once by a wandering band of Gauradan. At the Marchwarden’s fierce attack, the few Gauradan left alive, scattered in panic.

At the top of a rocky rise, they looked down on a pond, edged with twisted and tangled brambles. Around the pond, spaced like sentries, were a dozen wood trolls.

“Remain steady, Lady Lothlorell,” Ealfled said. “Start with one note, then two. Play a scale, then a few chords.”

“Lothlorell nodded and swung the lute from her back. She held it awkwardly. “I thank you for the kind words. I will try.

“Be brave, Lothlorell,” Sophronia said.

“Have courage,” Gronar added.

“Archers take aim,” Tyrthalion ordered. “At my command, let loose, then all charge.” He raised his staff. “Now!”

Bows twanged and arrows flew true, bringing down the closest wood trolls. Serenyalen, Ealfled and Gronar charged. The dwarf bellowed his battle cry as he swung his axes and bit deep into the wood of his first opponent. The trolls growled as they fought, savagely whipping their root-like arms. But their blows were met by Marchwarden steel and the first wave of trolls went down.

Lothlorell hung back. Ealfled glanced over her shoulder at the minstrel.

“Can’t you hear it, my Lady?” Ealfled called. “There is music in our cries. You can simply play along with it.”

“For Enorrath,” Serenyalen exclaimed. She charged two more trolls. Her bright blades wove a deadly pattern in the air.

“Baruk Khazhad, khazâd ai-mênu!” Gronar bellowed. He whirled to meet the blows of a wood troll who popped up behind him.

“Aye,” Lothlorell said. “I hear the melody” She let loose a few hesitant notes and watched the closest trolls cringe away from her music. “There, I have it!”

“Stay with me,” Ealfled said. She gave Lothlorell a merry flourish of her blade, already stained with gray-green blood.

Ealfled led them down a curving tunnel, raising her battle cry, and bringing strength to her kin. They battled past a dozen trolls. Staying close to Ealfed, Lothlorell stood with her legs apart in a sure stance, her notes rising, bringing shimmering light. Waves of healing power pulsed stronger with her every chord.

“My hands are still shaking,” Lothlorell said.

“Busy your hands with melodies, Lady Lothlorell,” Ealfled said. “That will stop your heart from shaking as well.”

Lothlorell nodded dutifully.

Ealfled dove into a pack of trolls, with Gronar, Serenyalen and Sophronia right behind. Lothlorell’s music grew in volume, sending power to her kin and fear into the trolls. Finally, before a dark doorway, the last troll went down under a blinding bolt of Tyrthalion’s power.

For the first time that night, Lothlorell grinned, ever so slightly. “They are fierce!”

Sophronia nodded with satisfaction. “Aye.”

“But, we are fiercer,” the Lady Captain said. “Some call me ‘Ealfled the Fierce’, you may have heard.”

The party stopped at a dark archway. Lothlorell peered into the shadows. ”I can feel him.”

Ealfled gestured them forward and into a damp, mossy cavern far below the pond. At the room’s far side, standing before a crude stone throne, was a massive wood troll.

“There is your demon,” Tyrthalion said.

“Heart-rot,” Sophronia said. “Is that the troll from your nightmares?”

“He is indeed,” Lothlorell said. Sweat broke out on her brow, but, she took up her lute and looked to Ealfled.

Ealfled nodded and raised her hauberk. “For Rohan, and Lady Lothlorell!” She charged the troll king.

Heart-rot met her with a roar and a defense of whirling arms and whip-like kicks. ”I am not… ssso eeassily defeeated… do not underessstimate my power…” he spat out.

“Don’t underestimate mine!” Ealfled countered. She dodged his blows and swung down hard on his shoulder. Her keen blade sliced clean. Heart-rot’s arm dropped to the stone floor, its fingers still twitching. The troll roared in pain and came at her again. Ealfled blocked his blow and jammed the steel-capped butt of her weapon in Heart-rot’s mid-section. A harsh crack sounded across the cavern and Heart-rot went down. Ealfled moved in to finish him off. But, with another fierce roar, he scrambled to his feet. As his eyes shined with dark power, he bounded over their heads to the ramp.

”I ssshall return, meeatlingssss…” he said. Before any of them could take a step, the troll lumbered with wild grace up the ramp and vanished from their sight.

Everyone caught their breath. The battle clamor abruptly gone, the only sound remaining was from water dripping from the rocky ceiling to shallow pools scattered about the cavern.

“Have we defeated him?” Lothlorell asked.

“We have driven him out.” Tyrthalion said.

Serenyalen nodded.”’We confronted evil, and it fled.”

Ealfled shook her head in annoyance. “The coward. I wanted to kill him!”

Sophronia grinned at Ealfled. “Our fiercest Marchwarden.”

“That’s the way of evil,” Serenyalen said.

“We have done our best here,” the Tûr said.

Ealfled loosened her grip and lowered her weapon. “I am not the sort to let evil remain undefeated, but if Lady Lothlorell has again found her voice …”

Lothlorell nodded to Lady Ealfled. “I have strength again. Thanks to you.”

“Than that is a victory worth celebrating with a few ales at the Kin Hall!” Ealfled exclaimed.

~ Back in Lant Veren~

Lothlorell lifted her shoulders and walked into the Marchwarden kin hall, straight and tall, side-by-side with Ealfled. The Captain looked in mock surprise at her gathered kin. “What are we all standing around for? Come now, first ale is on me!”

“Not quite yet,” Sophronia said. “Everyone gather round the flame.”

Ealfled blushed as a look of realization swept across her face.

As they circled round the Flame of Memory, a young hobbit entered the hall.

“Greetings, Master Hobbit,” Tyrthalion said.

Perram attempted a salute to the Tûr. A new recruit, his military bearing was still a bit awkward, but, improving.

Serenyalen beckoned Perram closer. “Be welcome, friend.”

Looking slightly ill at ease, Perram stepped forward. The Tûr raised a hand. His kin quieted and moved to stand around the flame. “Lady Ealfled, tonight I was never more inspired by your banner and by your valor. I could see the hope you brought to Lady Lothlorell. It shone in her eyes. You may be a fine warrior, but, as a captain, you brought courage and healing to her.”

Lothlorell blushed, but, smiled gratefully at Ealfled.

“Approach, Captain Ealfled,” commanded Tyrthalion. The Lady Captain moved to stand before him.

“You have more than earned your place as a Marchwarden. Captain Ealfled of Rohan, are you ready now to leave behind the status of recruit and become a full kinswoman?” he asked.

Ealfled stood straight, looking very proud. “I am.”

“This flame, to which we kneel, represents the Marchwardens who have fallen before us. In their honour we light this flame. In their memory we carry on their vision for an Ennorath free from tyranny and despair,” Tyrthalion said. He paused for a moment and knelt briefly before the flame. His kin followed suit.

“Here it is our tradition for recruits to pledge their oath as Marchwardens, Tyrthalion said. “Our oath stands in memory of the glory of all Ennorath, and of the faith of Gil-Galad and Elendil, in the keeping of those who sit upon the thrones of the West, and the One who is above all thrones forever.”

Sophronia whispered a prayer to Eru Ilúvatar.

“Attend now, Lady Ealfled,” Tyrthalion said, “and make your sacred oath.”

Ealfled gazed deep into the flame. “Before this sacred flame, and in the presence of my kin, I swear to abide by this oath for all my days as a Marchwarden. My strength, my sword, and my honour I give now to this kinship, and to our battle for the Free. So I swear by the Light above, and the Light within.”

Cheers and applause echoed to the ceiling. Gronar knelt in respect to his newest kinswoman.

Ealfled shot Gronar an embarrassed look. “For goodness sakes, don’t kneel!”

Serenyalen approached Ealfled. “Lady Ealfled, kinswoman, we offer to you the livery of the Marchwardens of Ennorath, to carry with you throughout your struggle against the Enemy. A reminder that you are not alone. And, a reminder that at all times it is the Free Peoples whom you serve.”

“Yes, the Free Peoples!’ Sophronia said.

Serenyalen solemnly held out a blue hauberk. Ealfled took the hauberk and pulled it on.

Serenyalen gave her a salute. “Nai tiruvantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tiëlyanna nu vilya. [May the Valar protect you on your path under the sky.]”

“May the Valar protect us all,” Lothlorell said.

Ealfled sighed and stroked the fabric of her new hauberk. “Blue really is my color.”

“Oh, it looks very fine on you, Lady Ealfled,” Sophronia said.

“I dare say I’ve n-n-not seen it worn b-b-better,” Perram ventured.

The Tûr reached behind him and took a shining hauberk from the corner. ”On my travels, I relieved a very large orc of a weapon that he had no business carrying.” He offered the hauberk to Ealfled.

“Well, that is a very fine weapon,” Serenyalen commented.

Ealfled examined the halberd, her eyes shining bright. “A fine weapon, indeed.”

Tyrthalion smiled proudly at Ealfled. “Go forth now, Lady Ealfled, Kinswoman and Marchwarden of Ennorath!”

So, I’ve had to cut back on my computer time. Unfortunately, my day job is forty hours a week of concentrated computer work, constantly using keyboard and mouse. Something had to give. That’s meant my time for LOTRO and From the Shire has been slim. Which, I absolutely hate!

However, I am being a good patient and following all the treatment advice. My symptoms are better, and, I’m hopeful I will be able to devote more time to travels in Middle-earth and to writing here. So, coming soon, Arduina, my elf runekeeper alt, will add her voice to the blog, and, the final piece on Middle-earth cuisine.

Unless my fingers fall off in the meantime….

The Fellowship of the Ring comes to life in October at the Radio City Music Hall. Apparently Turbine will be giving away two tickets for the event. The heck with just tickets. How about round trip airfare and a hotel for two nights as well? The Plaza will be fine, as long as I get a suite.

“Hello, Room Service? I’d like champagne and your finest lembas please.”

When Pippin and Merry are discovered by the Ent, Treebeard, he offers them bowls of Ent Water. Apparently the only sustenance for the Ents, it is “a drink like water, yet there was some scent or savour in it which they could not describe; it was faint, but it reminded them of the smell of a distant wood borne from afar by a cool breeze at night.” This was life giving water! “The effect of the draught began at the toes, and rose steadily through every limb, bringing refreshment and vigour as it coursed upwards, right to the tips of their hair.” The hobbits felt that their hair, in that moment was actually growing. When they were reunited in Isenguard with Gandalf, Legoas, Gimli and Aragorn, their comrades saw an immediate different in the two hobbits. “Indeed, you look in the bloom of health,” Aragorn said to them. Gimli commented, “Why, your hair is twice as thick and curly as when we parted’ and I would swear that you have both grown.”

Pippin and Merry served their friends food that had been salvaged from the ruins of Isenguard including “first rate salted pork,” bread with honey and butter, wine and beer.

During their harsh travels, Frodo and Sam survived mostly on water and lembas. In one memorable scene,  Gollum brings them a “brace of coneys,” aka rabbits. Much to Gollum’s disgust, who preferred his food raw, Sam simmered a fine batch of coney stew, seasoned with bay leaves, thyme and sage. Herbs were close at hand in Ithilien, all growing wild, and included sage, marjoram, parsleys and “many forms of herbs and scents beyond the garden-lore of Sam.”

The largest meal described in The Two Towers comes in a rare moment of safety for Frodo and Sam, when Faramir leads them to a refuge behind “The Window of the Sunset, Henneth Annun, the fairest of all the falls of Ithilian, land of many fountains.” In that secure refuge, they are served “pale yellow wine, cool and fragrant,” bread and butter, salted meats, dried fruits and “good red cheese.”

On to the Return of the King to see if new fare may be found as Aragorn regains his throne…

(More on food: The Cuisine of Middle-earth, Part II, and Part I)

While aiding folks across the lands, in tasks big and small, I have carried mailbags, pies, beehives, chests of artifacts and even an ancient statue. Now I may add carrying arrows to my accomplishments! In order to gain favor with the Galadrim, I plucked elven arrows from the bodies of rotting orcs and returned them to be used again.

I also cleaned orc waste from the banks of the river. And what is orc waste? Well, it bears a strong resemblance to what you find in a pig sty and smells twice as bad. I scooped the nasty stuff into a burlap bag and held my breath the entire time to keep from gagging. Then, I hurried back to the orc camps and tossed the reeking mess into their fire.

Finally, I earned enough respect from these noble elves to pass through the gate into the Golden Wood. When that moment came, looking down the path at the sight of those fabled silver and gold trees, I was filled with awe. Was a mere hobbit from the Shire worthy of following this path? It took me a moment to remind myself that I was indeed welcome before I passed through.

I cannot begin to describe the beauty of the place. All I can say is that it eases away years of battle and brings an amazing lightness and deep hope to your heart. One of the first places I visited was Talan Haldir, climbing a long ladder up to a treetop perch. Not an easy task for one who’s home is secured safe to the ground.

For quite a while, I walked about in a daze, soaking in my surroundings. Around every corner was a new sight to behold. I have a feeling that anyone walking by would have found me wide-eyed, with my jaw nearly trailing on the ground from the amazement of it all.

Even a small bridge crossing a stream was designed as a piece of art work…

My path led me to a vineyard, where I was invited to sit, rest and have a bite to eat. I must say that the good elves set nearly as fine and generous a table as one might find in the Shire!

I have yet to pass through the gates of Caras Galadhon. More work is yet to be done to gain this right.

However, I have already done my bit for the cause, assisting Gimli and Legoas in ridding the Golden Wood of invading orcs.

And, have had the great honour of meeting Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. They have asked me if I would continue to aid the Galadhrim in their fight. As if I would refuse! All I could do was smile and bow very deeply.

Until next time…

A few tips then, to profit on the Auction House.

I. Create a Merchant Character

This is a character whose sole purpose is being your personal vault, merchant and banker. Roll a new character or use an existing one you don’t plan on leveling and empty her (or his) packs. Station your new merchant in one of the AHs. I keep mine in Michel Delving since it’s a quick trip next door to the Vendor Hall to vendor items that don’t sell on the AH. Your characters in the field can stop at any mailbox and send items to your merchant. This brings two benefits. One, it lightens their packs, allowing them to collect more loot, and, saves time by keeping them from running to a vault.

Your merchant character is also your banker. As you begin trading on the AH, the proceeds end up in the banker’s purse, rather than scattered through the purses of your other characters. To save money, I avoid stable fees when I can and visit a reputation or housing vendor to repair. (You can save 20% repairing with any repuration vendor that has given you kindred status.) Setting an in-house rule that only your merchant buys from the AH cuts down on the expense of multiple characters traveling to the AH and avoids impulse AH purchases.

Your in-the-field champion spies a lovely elven damsel wearing a striking light armour robe: “That  would be great to wear to the festival. Quick, to the AH!”

Your banker: “But it’ costs 750 silvers and you wear heavy armour!”

II. Auction House Nuts & Bolts

To maximize profits, post items that cost you nothing in the first place, i.e. via drops or farming, items that are in demand, or, are a bit unusual.  On Landroval, ordimary armour and weapon drops, i.e. “yellow items,” don’t usually sell on the AH. Crafting recipes will sell, provided you don’t mark up the price. Just because you see two recipes for a Valiant Axe of Orc Skull Crushing priced at one gold doesn’t mean either one will sell. Most “purple” armour and weapons will sell, as well as most purple crafting items. Thanks goodness for the crafters who don’t bother farming their own supplies; this means hides, ore and wood will nearly always sell.

Some of your crafted items will sell. You’ll need to invest a bit of time and effort determining which items will sell and for how much. Trial and error here is a good thing. What will sell can vary. Two weeks ago, I sold 300 royal taters and could have sold more. This past weekend I only sold 50. Fortunately, there is room in my merchant’s packs to hold the taters for another time.

Be discriminating about what when you sell. For example, your weaponsmith critted on a nice two-handed sword. Look before you post. If there are already ten identical weapons posted, hold off and put it up for sale when there is less competition.

III. Pricing

The topic of AH item pricing can start fierce debates. I am not a price gouger. I hate it when folks set extravagant prices, and, I try not to do the same.  There are times when I could sell 50 carrots for 50 silvers. But I remember when my lone character was an apprentice cook and often couldn’t afford the price of AH produce. So, I try to balance profit with a sense of fair play. When I’m not sure about the price to ask for the AH, I will post it for double, or sometimes triple, the price I could get from a merchant. To maximize the chance of selling an item, I always set a buyout price and always post for two days.

When to sell? This may vary from server to server. On Landroval, ore, hides, wood and scholars items can sell anytime. For other items, I wait for the weekend, when more players are consistently online and the Friday and Saturday night raiders are looking to spend their hard-earned cash.  I craft the items I plan to sell during the week and send them to my merchant.  On Friday night, I post my 30 maximum items and check in periodically to collect the proceeds and post more items for sale.

IV. The Results

In the past month, I’ve averaged 2.5 gold from the AH per week. Not a fortune, but, I don’t want to put all my game time into becoming a Merchant Queen. I have characters to level, RPing to enjoy and a kinship to run. When you add in the silvers that my other characters earn, I have enough to buy things I need and a few extravagances along the way.