Shamus Plays

Shamus Plays: LOTRO, The Finale!

Shamus Young | 7 Jul 2010 09:00
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We're coming down to the end of Lulzy's tale now. I've completed both the Hobbit and the Human epic quests in the first leg of the game, and both quest chains point to Strider at the end. We're done with the Foreword and we've moved on to Book I. The Hobbit Foreword ended when Halros sent me to find Strider way back in part 19. The Human Foreword ended last episode, when ranger Reniolind sent me to find Strider. And then died.

I'm in Bree. I've just met Strider, and while I think both of us felt a strong mutual attraction I didn't think it would be fair to expect him to court me while I was still covered in swamp scum. I've been to the auction house and picked up some new clothing (at the expense of just about everything I've earned thus far) and now I'm on my way back to him.

I stop and wash up a bit in the city fountain and then return to the Prancing Pony, where I treat myself to a quick belt.


That calms my nerves a bit. Taking a deep breath, I head for Strider's room.

"You've returned," he observes as I step back into the room. "And you've... changed your clothes?"


"Oh, this old thing?" I giggle. I thought I'd freshen up a bit." I raise my eyebrows a bit and grin.

The man must have an iron will, because he doesn't even take the bait, "Yes. Earlier you said you'd been to the marshes. Do you bring tidings of my kinsmen? I have heard little news and even less of comfort."

"Oh that. Yes. The poor fool Amdir got himself stabbed by a Nazgul blade and is a wraith or something now. You know how he is."

"That news reached me just a few days ago. Alas for Amdir!" he laments.

"Oh! Also, Toradan, Mundol, and Renblarg are dead," I add. Strider seems shaken by this news. After a few seconds I bite my lip a bit and give him a little shrug, "Sorry. Did what I could, you know?"

"Your news is grim," Strider says. "We must move quickly to-"


"Sorry, you don't mind, do you? I'm ever so tired."

"I... guess not."

"My, the beds here are soft, aren't they?" I say, bouncing up and down a little.

"I've spent little time on them since arriving here. The task before me is great and there is much to be done."

If that isn't the most blatant confession of sexual frustration, I don't know what is. He's quiet for a few moments. I'm sure he's contemplating running over and jumping in here with me. Actually, is that even possible? The bed looks to be considerably shorter than he is. Hm. This may require some planning.

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