2946: Gramtyng & the Bride: Run In with the Werewolf

[Vladim]

(OOC: Original posts by Dramacydle, Diofant and Vladim)

[FIELDSET="[IMG]http://i1175.photobucket.com/albums/r634/Dramacydle8/3cbeefff-0ba9-46b7-9270-bf499829fb3c_zpsxc3dnmpq.jpg[/IMG]"] After disparaging remarks have left the Fellowship at odds with one another, to each their own took up their role for the journey across the expansive Mirkwood. The trip was around 160 miles and through here on this path anything could happen. As Nori took up the guide, the short and stout dwarf from the lonely mountains trudged through the snarly and entangled forest. A few of the fellowship's hearts were burdened over the bickering and fighting. It seemed that even in King Thranduils halls no one was safe from the corruption of the shadow. As your anguish seems to burden the more you travel with Arphel the scout, it seems Arphel is unflinching in these times. No fatigue nor anguish has settled in her. There were many camp nights up until this sixth night. A few lookouts but you could feel the weight of the blighted land upon your shoulders. Thinking over to the last six days and how the Fellowship had been unusually quiet the more the group traveled. It seemed Belgos and Baldor were lost in thought and aloof to their surroundings. Belgo wears a talisman around his neck that he tells others that it reminds him of his lost mother who lost her life in Laketown. But as the others were lost in thought and small talk among themselves. The bride finds a gigantic wolf like paw print, in the mud. It is definitely from a wolf but the beast must be the size of a bear. It is determined that the print is fresh and only a day old. It could be anywhere in the vicinity. But it could be the maddening effects of Mirkwood at play here. Arphel finds a nice place to camp for the night. It is an open field that Elerrina remembers the clearing as being an former feasting hall of King Thranduil before he was pushed back to where his kingdom is now. Although this area hasn't been used in many years, A sparkling stream of fresh water runs along the edge of the clearing. Upon the sixth night the camp decides to make camp. Young Belgo throws himself down on the grassy floor and announces that he is much too tired to travel any more that day. [/FIELDSET]

[IMG]http://i1175.photobucket.com/albums/r634/Dramacydle8/3cbeefff-0ba9-46b7-9270-bf499829fb3c_zpsxc3dnmpq.jpg[/IMG]

After disparaging remarks have left the Fellowship at odds with one another, to each their own took up their role for the journey across the expansive Mirkwood. The trip was around 160 miles and through here on this path anything could happen. As Nori took up the guide, the short and stout dwarf from the lonely mountains trudged through the snarly and entangled forest.

A few of the fellowship's hearts were burdened over the bickering and fighting. It seemed that even in King Thranduils halls no one was safe from the corruption of the shadow. As your anguish seems to burden the more you travel with Arphel the scout, it seems Arphel is unflinching in these times. No fatigue nor anguish has settled in her.

There were many camp nights up until this sixth night. A few lookouts but you could feel the weight of the blighted land upon your shoulders. Thinking over to the last six days and how the Fellowship had been unusually quiet the more the group traveled. It seemed Belgos and Baldor were lost in thought and aloof to their surroundings. Belgo wears a talisman around his neck that he tells others that it reminds him of his lost mother who lost her life in Laketown.

But as the others were lost in thought and small talk among themselves. The bride finds a gigantic wolf like paw print, in the mud. It is definitely from a wolf but the beast must be the size of a bear. It is determined that the print is fresh and only a day old. It could be anywhere in the vicinity. But it could be the maddening effects of Mirkwood at play here.

Arphel finds a nice place to camp for the night. It is an open field that Elerrina remembers the clearing as being an former feasting hall of King Thranduil before he was pushed back to where his kingdom is now. Although this area hasn't been used in many years, A sparkling stream of fresh water runs along the edge of the clearing. Upon the sixth night the camp decides to make camp. Young Belgo throws himself down on the grassy floor and announces that he is much too tired to travel any more that day.

[Vladim]

[COLOR="Red"]"So thats where you were." [/COLOR] Gramtyng knelt near the track, inspecting it and committing to memory the presence of the thing that had brought his first friend so much misery and sorrow. Simply from looking at it, he felt anger spreading its claws somewhere in the region of his heart, tugging at it. Silencing the growling beast, he turned to look at The Bride, standing up and gently putting a hand on her shoulder: [COLOR="red"]"Don't worry. When the time is opportune and we are ready, we will hunt this monster down."[/COLOR] He paused, for the first time in his life faced with not knowing what words to throw her way. Everything seemed clumsy and stupid, like intruding on her grief. [COLOR="red"]"I am not... a great person. I've my share of foolishness and recklessness, of refusal to do what I have to and running from duty. But I promise you: We'll bring the head of this filth to ... to his grave. I will help you."[/COLOR]

"So thats where you were." Gramtyng knelt near the track, inspecting it and committing to memory the presence of the thing that had brought his first friend so much misery and sorrow. Simply from looking at it, he felt anger spreading its claws somewhere in the region of his heart, tugging at it. Silencing the growling beast, he turned to look at The Bride, standing up and gently putting a hand on her shoulder: "Don't worry. When the time is opportune and we are ready, we will hunt this monster down." He paused, for the first time in his life faced with not knowing what words to throw her way. Everything seemed clumsy and stupid, like intruding on her grief. "I am not... a great person. I've my share of foolishness and recklessness, of refusal to do what I have to and running from duty. But I promise you: We'll bring the head of this filth to ... to his grave. I will help you."

[Vladim]

[img2=150]http://i1050.photobucket.com/albums/s419/Svorinn/The%20_bride_zpsh8yahesv.png[/img2] Lost in her thoughts, the Bride did not realise that Gramtyng was by her until he spoke. His words took her by surprise, not only because she had been unattentive, but also for what was said. [b][COLOR="DarkGreen"]'Indeed, you must be foolish and reckless, for better Men have thrown away their lives hunting this foe!'[/COLOR][/b] she said bitterly, raising her tone for the first time since they entered the forest. She could feel the darkness enveloping her, and there was only one thing on her mind: tracking down the Beast and ridding Mirkwood of it once and for all. Taken aback by her own grim words, she was quickly pulled back to reality. [b][COLOR="DarkGreen"]'Forgive me.'[/COLOR][/b], she said, but the pride and aloofness were not completely absent from her voice. [b][COLOR="DarkGreen"]'Your words ring true. But this is not *your* duty. This is something that *I* must do for the people of Mountain-Hall. Think carefully before risking your life thusly.'[/COLOR][/b] [Spoiler=OOC]For those that may know it, the real name of the Bride is Idunn, daughter of Theodwin. Currently, only Gramtyng and the people of Mountain-Hall should know her real name, but it may eventually be revealed to other companions. Her hound's name is Uthred-this should be common knowledge to all companions.[/Spoiler]

http://i1050.photobucket.com/albums/s419/Svorinn/The%20_bride_zpsh8yahesv.png

Lost in her thoughts, the Bride did not realise that Gramtyng was by her until he spoke. His words took her by surprise, not only because she had been unattentive, but also for what was said.

'Indeed, you must be foolish and reckless, for better Men have thrown away their lives hunting this foe!' she said bitterly, raising her tone for the first time since they entered the forest. She could feel the darkness enveloping her, and there was only one thing on her mind: tracking down the Beast and ridding Mirkwood of it once and for all.

Taken aback by her own grim words, she was quickly pulled back to reality. 'Forgive me.' , she said, but the pride and aloofness were not completely absent from her voice. 'Your words ring true. But this is not *your* duty. This is something that *I* must do for the people of Mountain-Hall. Think carefully before risking your life thusly.'
 

OOC

For those that may know it, the real name of the Bride is Idunn, daughter of Theodwin. Currently, only Gramtyng and the people of Mountain-Hall should know her real name, but it may eventually be revealed to other companions.

Her hound's name is Uthred-this should be common knowledge to all companions.

[Vladim]

Gramtyng had expected a similar reaction from his friend; the grief was still far too fresh, and this infernal thing was before them. Not a muscle shifted in his face to indicate he'd been offended or upset - the only thing he'd been upset about was that this [i]thing[/i] was influencing his the Woodsman girl poorly. It was difficult to deal with, as his usual approach to cheer women up was compliments and or flirting, but this? This was outside his expertise. Aldor would have known what to say - he was a wise man who had a story for every occasion. Even Fastred, his battle-obsessed father, would have likely brought himself up impressively and shared a few grim words of encouragement. But he was neither. [COLOR="red"]"A fool I may be, and reckless I remain - you've seen that well enough during our earlier travels. I do not know about my worth as a man - it remains unproven, with no feats to my name. What I do know, however, is loyalty. It's something I've been taught from the cradle... To king, to country, to commander, to family and... to friends."[/COLOR] He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts together: This was different from his usual speeches, so full of certainty, bravado, and references to ancient feats. This was here and now, today, and the past did not matter, except to darken the Bride's thoughts. He wouldn't allow neither that, nor the shadows of Mirkwood, to darken [i]their[/i] path, no matter how much she claimed otherwise. [COLOR="red"]"I am unproven. But none that have been born of the Houses of the Edain the would stand aside and do nothing while his friend grieves, Idunn. Certainly not any who can still call themselves Men afterward. Perhaps you've not had a great deal of friends, and you simply do not know; but a friend will gladly help you in any matter, even one that is as grave as this. Shared trust is a great thing, and unity can crush any obstacle."[/COLOR] Gramtyng scratched the back of his head, beginning to run out of things to say, and not wanting to offend the only person who'd shown him any amount of trust when he first had come to this new and strange land. The bard sighed a bit before continuing; he didn't want to discuss this topic but as long as they spoke about her past, he ought not to have have kept his concealed either. [COLOR="Red"]"As you know full well, I am an exile. Thengel King's 'errand' is the order of a mad king who spared me one day and would have had me pulled apart by horses the next. He was as likely to do either. I have no home any longer; my father's renounced me as a failure for not meeting his expectations. My mentor is in hiding somewhere. I am exactly what you see in front of you - and I've only had Leasere and the clothes on my back. Till I met you, who was to be my guide in this land I knew nothing of. In this land, you are the first real companion and friend I've made. So don't try to make it sound like I've got nothing to do with this, Idunn."[/COLOR]

Gramtyng had expected a similar reaction from his friend; the grief was still far too fresh, and this infernal thing was before them. Not a muscle shifted in his face to indicate he'd been offended or upset - the only thing he'd been upset about was that this thing was influencing his the Woodsman girl poorly. It was difficult to deal with, as his usual approach to cheer women up was compliments and or flirting, but this? This was outside his expertise. Aldor would have known what to say - he was a wise man who had a story for every occasion. Even Fastred, his battle-obsessed father, would have likely brought himself up impressively and shared a few grim words of encouragement. But he was neither.

"A fool I may be, and reckless I remain - you've seen that well enough during our earlier travels. I do not know about my worth as a man - it remains unproven, with no feats to my name. What I do know, however, is loyalty. It's something I've been taught from the cradle... To king, to country, to commander, to family and... to friends." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts together: This was different from his usual speeches, so full of certainty, bravado, and references to ancient feats. This was here and now, today, and the past did not matter, except to darken the Bride's thoughts. He wouldn't allow neither that, nor the shadows of Mirkwood, to darken their path, no matter how much she claimed otherwise.

"I am unproven. But none that have been born of the Houses of the Edain the would stand aside and do nothing while his friend grieves, Idunn. Certainly not any who can still call themselves Men afterward. Perhaps you've not had a great deal of friends, and you simply do not know; but a friend will gladly help you in any matter, even one that is as grave as this. Shared trust is a great thing, and unity can crush any obstacle." Gramtyng scratched the back of his head, beginning to run out of things to say, and not wanting to offend the only person who'd shown him any amount of trust when he first had come to this new and strange land. The bard sighed a bit before continuing; he didn't want to discuss this topic but as long as they spoke about her past, he ought not to have have kept his concealed either.

"As you know full well, I am an exile. Thengel King's 'errand' is the order of a mad king who spared me one day and would have had me pulled apart by horses the next. He was as likely to do either. I have no home any longer; my father's renounced me as a failure for not meeting his expectations. My mentor is in hiding somewhere. I am exactly what you see in front of you - and I've only had Leasere and the clothes on my back. Till I met you, who was to be my guide in this land I knew nothing of. In this land, you are the first real companion and friend I've made. So don't try to make it sound like I've got nothing to do with this, Idunn."

[Vladim]

[img2=150]http://i1050.photobucket.com/albums/s419/Svorinn/The%20_bride_zpsh8yahesv.png[/img2] The Bride rose up from her kneeling position, shifting her attention away from the paw-print and towards her companion. [b][COLOR="DarkGreen"]’Thank you for your kindness. But we would both be reckless fools should we pursue this creature alone, in its own territory and so close to nightfall.’[/COLOR][/b] she concluded. [b][COLOR="DarkGreen"]’This is no ordinary wolf. Even the great king Thranduil fears it.’[/COLOR][/b] Despite her thirst for vengeance, she was slowly coming to realize that she could not hunt the Werewolf alone. She would need all of her companions, if not a great war-party, to slay the Beast. If Gramtyng was in it for the glory, and for the chance to prove himself to his elders, then this possibility-sharing the glory with others-might change his opinion. She tried to find out: [b][COLOR="DarkGreen"]’The great heroes of the Golden Hall would all drink to the health of Gramtyng, son of Fastred, should he return to Edoras bearing the severed head of the Werewolf of Mirkwood. The bards would sing of this great feat. Is it not so?’[/COLOR][/b]

http://i1050.photobucket.com/albums/s419/Svorinn/The%20_bride_zpsh8yahesv.png

The Bride rose up from her kneeling position, shifting her attention away from the paw-print and towards her companion. ’Thank you for your kindness. But we would both be reckless fools should we pursue this creature alone, in its own territory and so close to nightfall.’ she concluded. ’This is no ordinary wolf. Even the great king Thranduil fears it.’

Despite her thirst for vengeance, she was slowly coming to realize that she could not hunt the Werewolf alone. She would need all of her companions, if not a great war-party, to slay the Beast. If Gramtyng was in it for the glory, and for the chance to prove himself to his elders, then this possibility-sharing the glory with others-might change his opinion. She tried to find out:

’The great heroes of the Golden Hall would all drink to the health of Gramtyng, son of Fastred, should he return to Edoras bearing the severed head of the Werewolf of Mirkwood. The bards would sing of this great feat. Is it not so?’

[Vladim]

Gramtyng sighed again, shaking his head: She still didnt understand. Well, that was his own fault, too; as a bard, he'd naturally been a glory-seeker, though it was more to create a song of it than participate himself. But explaining the many issues of the Rohirrim lifestyle and his views on them would take far too long, so he decided on a faster approach. "Look." He said pointedly. [COLOR="red"]"Everything else aside, right now I... Cannot bring myself to care what the heroes of Golden Hall sing about over their feasts. Thengel King's order merely accelerated what was going to happen anyway. I've fought all my life not to be as they encourage me to be - reckless, bold, and brash, rushing headlong into combat to claim a glory reaped by the dead who the living sing praises to. I've no wish to become one of those glorified dead. I like living!" [/COLOR] The minstrel looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed (how long ago did that last happen?) for his outburst. This sort of thing was hard to put in words without sounding craven or worse. [COLOR="red"]"My advice is not to undertake the hunt anytime soon. We need information, we need more hunters, a different way to hunt, and a solid plan. I've a few ideas... But they will take time. I will explain, if you'd like."[/COLOR] He recalled the story of the Steed of the Moon and pulled at his beard, trying to remember anything else that had been of import, and should have been mentioned immediately. [COLOR="red"]"As for returning to Edoras... No. At the very least, not now. The head of the Werewolf would certainly make my father sing - becoming a hunter worthy of that sort of prey is what he dreamed of, for me, but his dreams are not mine, and again... We've become near strangers, at this point."[/COLOR] Gramtyng pointed at the footprint as he finished his speech, calmly this time: [COLOR="Red"]"The death of this filth would make a good story, aye. But the story isnt why I want it dead - I want it dead because it brought grief to a good friend of mine. That is all. That is all that's necessary."[/COLOR]

Gramtyng sighed again, shaking his head: She still didnt understand. Well, that was his own fault, too; as a bard, he'd naturally been a glory-seeker, though it was more to create a song of it than participate himself. But explaining the many issues of the Rohirrim lifestyle and his views on them would take far too long, so he decided on a faster approach. "Look." He said pointedly. "Everything else aside, right now I... Cannot bring myself to care what the heroes of Golden Hall sing about over their feasts. Thengel King's order merely accelerated what was going to happen anyway. I've fought all my life not to be as they encourage me to be - reckless, bold, and brash, rushing headlong into combat to claim a glory reaped by the dead who the living sing praises to. I've no wish to become one of those glorified dead. I like living!"

The minstrel looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed (how long ago did that last happen?) for his outburst. This sort of thing was hard to put in words without sounding craven or worse. "My advice is not to undertake the hunt anytime soon. We need information, we need more hunters, a different way to hunt, and a solid plan. I've a few ideas... But they will take time. I will explain, if you'd like." He recalled the story of the Steed of the Moon and pulled at his beard, trying to remember anything else that had been of import, and should have been mentioned immediately. "As for returning to Edoras... No. At the very least, not now. The head of the Werewolf would certainly make my father sing - becoming a hunter worthy of that sort of prey is what he dreamed of, for me, but his dreams are not mine, and again... We've become near strangers, at this point."

Gramtyng pointed at the footprint as he finished his speech, calmly this time: "The death of this filth would make a good story, aye. But the story isnt why I want it dead - I want it dead because it brought grief to a good friend of mine. That is all. That is all that's necessary."

[Vladim]

[img2=150]http://i1050.photobucket.com/albums/s419/Svorinn/The%20_bride_zpsh8yahesv.png[/img2] The Men of Rohan seemed strange at times, their ways as alien as those of dwarves or elves. And yet, did she not at times feel the same about her own, the Woodmen of Mountain-Hall? Idunn had grown to expect that her own always stuck together, helping each other survive and overcome the hardships imposed by Mirkwood. She had not been expecting help from an outlander, especially help with nothing offered in exchange. [b][COLOR="DarkGreen"]'Very well,'[/COLOR][/b] she begun, [b][COLOR="DarkGreen"]'if you will not return to Edoras, then I am willing to hear your plan. Even if it takes time, I swear by my people's honor that they will prolong their hospitality for as long as it is required. Now that you have decided to undertake the Hunt with us, you count as one of our own.'[/COLOR][/b] She was not good at expressing graditude, but she knew that the horse-lord deserved her trust. And while she did not know much about the Werewolf, she did have a plan of her own. It was time to reveal it. [b][COLOR="DarkGreen"]'The elders of Mountain-Hall refuse to tell me about the Beast. Yet there is one who can help. The great Wizard, Radagast the Brown, lives in Rhosgobel, and he has always been a great ally to the Woodmen. His powers are beyond those of any mortals. He knows more about Mirkwood than any Woodman, and the stories say he can even speak with the plants and the animals.'[/COLOR][/b] She motioned to Uthred, her hound, who was never more than a few yards away from her side. [b][COLOR="DarkGreen"]'Uthred was with my bethrothed when the Beast destroyed his hunting party. He *saw* where the attack took place. With Radagast's help, we will be able to learn what Uthred saw, and find the monster's lair!'[/COLOR][/b] She looked at Gramtyng expectently, eager to learn what he thought of her plan. [Spoiler=OOC]Greatly enjoying the RP so far! It's a good way to fill time between the main story thread! This is just a setup for attempting the 'Find Patron (Radagast)' undertaking in a future fellowship phase, but it will also be interesting to learn if Gramtyng agrees or if he believes it is all superstitious Woodmen hogwash :)[/Spoiler]

http://i1050.photobucket.com/albums/s419/Svorinn/The%20_bride_zpsh8yahesv.png

The Men of Rohan seemed strange at times, their ways as alien as those of dwarves or elves. And yet, did she not at times feel the same about her own, the Woodmen of Mountain-Hall? Idunn had grown to expect that her own always stuck together, helping each other survive and overcome the hardships imposed by Mirkwood. She had not been expecting help from an outlander, especially help with nothing offered in exchange.

'Very well,' she begun, 'if you will not return to Edoras, then I am willing to hear your plan. Even if it takes time, I swear by my people's honor that they will prolong their hospitality for as long as it is required. Now that you have decided to undertake the Hunt with us, you count as one of our own.'

She was not good at expressing graditude, but she knew that the horse-lord deserved her trust. And while she did not know much about the Werewolf, she did have a plan of her own. It was time to reveal it.

'The elders of Mountain-Hall refuse to tell me about the Beast. Yet there is one who can help. The great Wizard, Radagast the Brown, lives in Rhosgobel, and he has always been a great ally to the Woodmen. His powers are beyond those of any mortals. He knows more about Mirkwood than any Woodman, and the stories say he can even speak with the plants and the animals.'

She motioned to Uthred, her hound, who was never more than a few yards away from her side. 'Uthred was with my bethrothed when the Beast destroyed his hunting party. He *saw* where the attack took place. With Radagast's help, we will be able to learn what Uthred saw, and find the monster's lair!'

She looked at Gramtyng expectently, eager to learn what he thought of her plan.
 

OOC

Greatly enjoying the RP so far! It's a good way to fill time between the main story thread!

This is just a setup for attempting the 'Find Patron (Radagast)' undertaking in a future fellowship phase, but it will also be interesting to learn if Gramtyng agrees or if he believes it is all superstitious Woodmen hogwash :)

[Vladim]

He hadn't expected this much to come of a simple offer of help; in truth, he had not expected anything to come of it, nor had he wanted anything. But a promise of a place to be able to warm himself by the fire and having people who knew him welcome him... Perhaps that wasn't so bad after all. The roads did go ever on and on, but the day would eventually come when his feet would turn to that welcome light in the window. Gramtyng shut his eyes for a moment, remembering the hearth at Mountain Hall when he first arrived there, and the hospitality of the Woodsmen. [COLOR="red"]"Thank you, Idunn. I cant tell you how much your promise means. I've mostly resigned myself to wandering... Your offer gives hope that there are other choices." [/COLOR] Gramtyng knelt down and picked up a branch, pulling out a knife and idly sharpening the stick as he listened to his friend's story, and her plan for vengeance. He nodded at times, indicating he was listening attentively, and controlled his facial expressions when he'd heard of Radagast the Brown and the speech of animals. There had been a great amount of merit in her ideas, and they complimented his own greatly - alone, neither plan would amount to much, however... That must be why cooperation in these things was central to a successful hunt. [COLOR="red"]"Your plan makes sense, to me."[/COLOR] He finally spoke. [COLOR="red"]"We've our own Wizard in the South, Saruman the White - he isnt particularly liked by Thengel King's court, but then again, neither am I."[/COLOR] He gave a lop-sided smile before continuing. [COLOR="red"]"If your elders refuse to help you, perhaps there is a reason, besides them not wanting anyone to endanger themselves? Maybe Radagast has asked them? In any case, finding out what Uthred knows is a good start."[/COLOR] He scratched the hound behind the ear absentmindedly. [COLOR="red"]"There's likely another way... Even in the Mark, we've heard stories of Beorn the Skinchanger - it is said he understands the tongues of beasts, as well, and sometimes even offers to teach others. If the Wizard refuses, we could ask him to teach us. Securing their help seems like it would help - the Beornings border on Mirkwood just like your people, do they not? Of what they tell of Beorn's ferocity, he is a likelier ally to our cause than King Thranduil."[/COLOR] He swept his foot, moving the old fallen leaves aside, exposing the rich soil: he needed something to draw this on, and as he had no parchment, Mirkwood's floor would have to do.[COLOR="red"] "My plan goes like this: I need to find out how anyone who'd hunted the Werewolf hunt. I need to devise a style of hunting the monster will not anticipate or have seen before. The bigger the advantage we can get, the better - if surprise is on our side, it would increase our chances."[/COLOR] He began to sketch something on the ground as he spoke. [COLOR="red"]"As far as I know, only elves hunt as my people do. If Thranduil never hunted it, this idea will work. The current plan of the hunt is luring the beast to an open ground, and using mounted hunters to gain the advantage. Many formations and tactics become possible. I will personally train anyone who is willing to do so; hit-and-run, encirclement, charges... We use horses to close the gap it has on our speed. We condition them to be used to its smell by getting pieces of its fur."[/COLOR] He continued the sketch of the methods he described as he continued his explaination. His face now was entirely different from how he usually was, utterly serious. [COLOR="Red"]"We could also involve traps... Even poison, if it is required, though I'd rather avoid it. The second part of the plan is to pit legends against this beast's legend. There are two I'd like to use: The Hill of Seeing and Hill of Hearing could, fortune willing, help us gather information on the monster or something to be used against it. Second... There is a being in Wilderland - or at least, so the story goes - that is as pure as that monster is dark. It is a horse... According to the folktales, this one is a noble and gentle being, which is swift as lightning, and nothing can give it pause nor slow it. Stories are told of its intelligence... And these stories are old. To the folk of Wilderland, this may be just another story. But to anyone from the Mark... This horse, the Steed of the Moon, the traits assigned to it, are similar to that of a [i]mearas[/i], a breed of horses who were intelligent, and are tightly joined to our people's history. If this story is true, and we can tame this steed... There is simply no way a Mearas will lose against the Werewolf of Mirkwood."[/COLOR]

He hadn't expected this much to come of a simple offer of help; in truth, he had not expected anything to come of it, nor had he wanted anything. But a promise of a place to be able to warm himself by the fire and having people who knew him welcome him... Perhaps that wasn't so bad after all. The roads did go ever on and on, but the day would eventually come when his feet would turn to that welcome light in the window. Gramtyng shut his eyes for a moment, remembering the hearth at Mountain Hall when he first arrived there, and the hospitality of the Woodsmen. "Thank you, Idunn. I cant tell you how much your promise means. I've mostly resigned myself to wandering... Your offer gives hope that there are other choices."

Gramtyng knelt down and picked up a branch, pulling out a knife and idly sharpening the stick as he listened to his friend's story, and her plan for vengeance. He nodded at times, indicating he was listening attentively, and controlled his facial expressions when he'd heard of Radagast the Brown and the speech of animals. There had been a great amount of merit in her ideas, and they complimented his own greatly - alone, neither plan would amount to much, however... That must be why cooperation in these things was central to a successful hunt. "Your plan makes sense, to me." He finally spoke. "We've our own Wizard in the South, Saruman the White - he isnt particularly liked by Thengel King's court, but then again, neither am I." He gave a lop-sided smile before continuing.

"If your elders refuse to help you, perhaps there is a reason, besides them not wanting anyone to endanger themselves? Maybe Radagast has asked them? In any case, finding out what Uthred knows is a good start." He scratched the hound behind the ear absentmindedly. "There's likely another way... Even in the Mark, we've heard stories of Beorn the Skinchanger - it is said he understands the tongues of beasts, as well, and sometimes even offers to teach others. If the Wizard refuses, we could ask him to teach us. Securing their help seems like it would help - the Beornings border on Mirkwood just like your people, do they not? Of what they tell of Beorn's ferocity, he is a likelier ally to our cause than King Thranduil."

He swept his foot, moving the old fallen leaves aside, exposing the rich soil: he needed something to draw this on, and as he had no parchment, Mirkwood's floor would have to do. "My plan goes like this: I need to find out how anyone who'd hunted the Werewolf hunt. I need to devise a style of hunting the monster will not anticipate or have seen before. The bigger the advantage we can get, the better - if surprise is on our side, it would increase our chances." He began to sketch something on the ground as he spoke. "As far as I know, only elves hunt as my people do. If Thranduil never hunted it, this idea will work. The current plan of the hunt is luring the beast to an open ground, and using mounted hunters to gain the advantage. Many formations and tactics become possible. I will personally train anyone who is willing to do so; hit-and-run, encirclement, charges... We use horses to close the gap it has on our speed. We condition them to be used to its smell by getting pieces of its fur."

He continued the sketch of the methods he described as he continued his explaination. His face now was entirely different from how he usually was, utterly serious. "We could also involve traps... Even poison, if it is required, though I'd rather avoid it. The second part of the plan is to pit legends against this beast's legend. There are two I'd like to use: The Hill of Seeing and Hill of Hearing could, fortune willing, help us gather information on the monster or something to be used against it. Second... There is a being in Wilderland - or at least, so the story goes - that is as pure as that monster is dark. It is a horse... According to the folktales, this one is a noble and gentle being, which is swift as lightning, and nothing can give it pause nor slow it. Stories are told of its intelligence... And these stories are old. To the folk of Wilderland, this may be just another story. But to anyone from the Mark... This horse, the Steed of the Moon, the traits assigned to it, are similar to that of a mearas , a breed of horses who were intelligent, and are tightly joined to our people's history. If this story is true, and we can tame this steed... There is simply no way a Mearas will lose against the Werewolf of Mirkwood."

[Vladim]

[img2=150]http://i1050.photobucket.com/albums/s419/Svorinn/The%20_bride_zpsh8yahesv.png[/img2] The Bride was quickly coming to the conclusion that Gramtyng was far more knowledgeable about the lore of distant lands than she was. He had, after all, travelled more than she had, and had been brought up listening to many tales and legends that, if true, would be useful in their quest. She nodded silently as Gramtyng spoke of Beorn, Saruman, the Hills of Seeing and Hearing and the legend of the Steed of the Moon, indicating her approval. When it came to the actual hunt, however, the Bride was not convinced. Mounted combat was not the way of her people, who hid among the woods and fought amidst the trees of Mirkwood. She knew the marksmen of Mountain-Hall, yet doubted that any would be able to shoot from horseback, a feat that seemed almost mythical. Besides, there were no horses in Mirkwood. Gramtyng had severed his ties with the Rohirrim; how was he supposed to turn woodmen into riders? She did not wish to express her doubts, fearing that this might offend the Horse-lord. So she simply indicated her agreement. [b][COLOR="DarkGreen"]’You should tell me more about these legends sometime. I will seek the Brown Wizard when I return to Woodmen lands, but your ideas will help as well.’[/COLOR][/b] She looked towards the direction of her other companions, deeming that it was time to return. [b][COLOR="DarkGreen"]’Before planning the hunt, we must finish this journey. Unless the Beast finds us first.’[/COLOR][/b] With those words, she prepared herself for leaving the track. [Spoiler=OOC]I can’t think of anything else the Bride would like to discuss right now. Unless Gramtyng has specific questions, or something else to say, I am ready to finish this side-thread.[/Spoiler]

http://i1050.photobucket.com/albums/s419/Svorinn/The%20_bride_zpsh8yahesv.png

The Bride was quickly coming to the conclusion that Gramtyng was far more knowledgeable about the lore of distant lands than she was. He had, after all, travelled more than she had, and had been brought up listening to many tales and legends that, if true, would be useful in their quest. She nodded silently as Gramtyng spoke of Beorn, Saruman, the Hills of Seeing and Hearing and the legend of the Steed of the Moon, indicating her approval.

When it came to the actual hunt, however, the Bride was not convinced. Mounted combat was not the way of her people, who hid among the woods and fought amidst the trees of Mirkwood. She knew the marksmen of Mountain-Hall, yet doubted that any would be able to shoot from horseback, a feat that seemed almost mythical. Besides, there were no horses in Mirkwood. Gramtyng had severed his ties with the Rohirrim; how was he supposed to turn woodmen into riders?

She did not wish to express her doubts, fearing that this might offend the Horse-lord. So she simply indicated her agreement. ’You should tell me more about these legends sometime. I will seek the Brown Wizard when I return to Woodmen lands, but your ideas will help as well.’

She looked towards the direction of her other companions, deeming that it was time to return. ’Before planning the hunt, we must finish this journey. Unless the Beast finds us first.’ With those words, she prepared herself for leaving the track.
 

OOC

I can’t think of anything else the Bride would like to discuss right now. Unless Gramtyng has specific questions, or something else to say, I am ready to finish this side-thread.

[Vladim]

[Floatleft][IMG2=150]http://i.imgur.com/PL6i5Hx.png[/IMG2][/Floatleft][SIZE="4"][url=http://www.myth-weavers.com/showthread.php?t=364654][SIZE="5"][b]Gramtyng, son of Fastred[/b][/SIZE][/url][/size] Gramtyng nodded wordlessly at The Bride's suggestion. He knew it likely would be difficult to convince someone to abandon their preferred style of hunting - especially someone who'd had hunting as part of their culture. He hoped that her ingenuity would help her bridge that gap, however. He'd gotten up off the ground where he knelt, and made sure to erase all traces of his little sketch. [COLOR="Red"]"Agreed. This plan will take time... And we've a job to attend to before that." [/COLOR] [OOC=OOC]I figure thats the end of this particular interaction - think we should move on to 'how they met' one?[/ooc]

http://i.imgur.com/PL6i5Hx.png

Gramtyng, son of Fastred Gramtyng nodded wordlessly at The Bride's suggestion. He knew it likely would be difficult to convince someone to abandon their preferred style of hunting - especially someone who'd had hunting as part of their culture. He hoped that her ingenuity would help her bridge that gap, however. He'd gotten up off the ground where he knelt, and made sure to erase all traces of his little sketch. "Agreed. This plan will take time... And we've a job to attend to before that." OOCI figure thats the end of this particular interaction - think we should move on to 'how they met' one?