Year 2950: The honored guest

[Vladim]

For a while the two friends fell silent. The truth was now out, and there were no lies between them remaining. Yet neither of them knew what any of this meant, and what to do with such tidings and revelations. Did any of it change anything? In truth, the situation here remained the same.

Idunn was the first to break the silence. "Now you know all. What will you do with it?" She had at last placed her trust in him, and yet part of her feared that he might take the news to Viglund. That was the unspoken implication hidden behind her words. Guthred could sense it, and it seemed almost like an accusation to him, but when he spoke in reply, his voice did not rise as it had before.

"Your secret is safe with me, girl." he said at length. "And besides: how can I know that these are not the half-mad rantings of a stranger?" He half-smiled in mockery of himself. "Dreams, omens, prophesies-such matters do not concern me, for I am not a wise man or sorcerer. I am merely a Thane. I deal with simpler matters."

"And what of Elfwyn?"

He did not answer immediately. The matter weighed heavily on him, pitting conscience against duty and loyalty. But he had made his decision days prior. "Your friend, the southerner, he spoke truth to him." he finally said, meaning of the words Annungil had spoken to Viglund at that fateful audience before the Yule. "Viglund is a mighty warrior and a born leader. Long have I been proud to follow him and to serve as Thane. Yet he is descending down a dark path... the land itself, harsh as it is, and full of ancient evils, seems to exert a malicious influence on him. The death of his son has only made matters worse. Even I can see it, though I love him still, and hope against hope that he will not be overcome by it, and by the many burdens he has been forced to bear."

He sighed. It was difficult for him to speak thusly. Painful even. But he knew it to be the truth. And one truth deserved another.

Idunn nodded at his words. Of course she agreed. She had seen more than enough on her short stay here to reach the same conclusion. Or, perhaps, one far less gracious to Viglund: that it was to late for him already, and that he was already lost. If he had any redeeming qualities still, then they were not apparent to her. "Do you think he suspects anything?" she asked after a while, hoping that her friend would ease her worries...

Guthred did not respond instantly. In truth, he had no answer to offer. He simply did not know. He could only guess. "Viglund is no fool. He has a keen mind, and knows how to conceal his thoughts. He must suspect something... otherwise, I do not think he would have summoned me to share what he knows just before your own address of the assembly. I did not say anything, for I did not want you to be concerned, but I think that was his goal. To unnerve you, and to sow mistrust between us. And still: he cannot know all. For, as I said, if he did, then we would both be in chains."

"This situation is perilous. For you and me both. If he were to learn... and if he deemed this a conspiracy... then I fear that things would fare badly, for you and me both. Yet if I were to escape, then I would place you in trouble, and Viglund would see it as a clear provocation, and cause for war." She was trapped. Either option was dangerous, and she had no easy answer. She sighed, and reached the only conclusion she reasonably could: "I can do nothing but wait for my companions to send word, and bring new information from the North. I know that they would not abandon me. It is too soon to take matters into our own hands."

Guthred remained uncertain. On the one hand, he knew this to be true. Yet on the other, he feared for her safety. She had told him of the incident in the forest, and of Ingvar's "mistake" while they were hunting. It was an isolated incident, but things could get much worse still. Who could tell how she would be viewed after tonight's audience?

"I swore to protect you, and so I shall do while you remain my guest. Yet I hope that your friends will send word soon, or that soon you will receive another dream. Until then... I trust that remaining here is your best choice, but I hope that we don't regret it. But we must lie low, and give no cause for him to suspect us."

[Vladim]

Suddenly, both friends turned to face the doorway that led further within Guthred's house. They had heard footsteps coming from within, and instantly fell silent and awaited. They did not have to wait for long. Aestid, Viglund's daughter and Guthred's ward, approached them. They had thought her asleep; indeed, so they had assumed throughout all their conversations. Yet they were about to be proven wrong.

"Aestid!" cried Guthred in a muffled voice. "I did not mean to wake you. Please; go back to bed. It is late, and we will join shortly."

Aestid rubbed her eyes, and looked to her guardian first, and Idunn second. She had heard her addressing the assembly, and in the days that preceded it, she had come to know the huntress. "I did not mean to either, uncle, but I overheard your discussion, and... not for the first time." she admitted sheepishly, and bowed her head. "I shan't say anything to my father, so you need not be worried, but I wanted you to know it. Perhaps I could help you. I am his daughter, and he loves me, and I him. I fear for him just as you do, uncle."

The two friends looked at her, and then at each other, briefly. They seemed not to believe it, but they had underestimated her, thinking her but a child. In truth, she was wise beyond her years, and clever.

"You heard all?" asked Guthred after a long pause.

She nodded, and looked to Idunn and spoke again: "I heard you at the assembly. You are right. But my father will not change his mind so easily. I wish to aid you. He will not listen to you or his Thane, but he might listen to me. Yet it will take time, and patience. Let me join your cause. Together, perhaps we may avert bloodshed."

Idunn observed Viglund's daughter in amazement. She was only a girl of fourteen winters and yet, in that short time, she had grown wiser than her father. She was struck by her words, and her eagerness to risk her own position, and perhaps herself even, for a cause that was not her own.

"I have raised you well, child." conceded Guthred at length. He was as a father to her, and lived her dearly, yet he also knew that she was growing strong-willed and determined, and would have her way, one way or another. "But do not place yourself in risk needlessly. Do not think that because you are his daughter that he will be soft with you. And besides, we need not act yet: we would only force his hand. Now is the time for quiet planning, and for waiting."

She agreed. As did Idunn. And so there were now three.

 

OOC

There's little left to do but to sojourn for a few more days with Guthred here. Since she shares a bond, rolling +heart and adding +1:

Sojourn:
Dice Roll: 1d6+3t 2d10
d6 Results: 3 (Total = 6)
d10 Results: 6, 1 (Total = 7)
Sum Total: 13

Edit: Weak hit. She can take 1 action, and 1 more for sharing a bond. She'll Consort (+2 Spirit) and plan (+2 Momentum), then she'll focus on the Plan action and roll again:

 

Focus:
Dice Roll: 1d6+3t 2d10
d6 Results: 2 (Total = 5)
d10 Results: 9, 6 (Total = 15)
Sum Total: 20

Edit: A miss. Lose all benefits from planning. I.e., no momentum gain.
Finally, I want her to forge a bond with Aestid. Let's see if this works:

 

Forge a bond:
Dice Roll: 1d6+2t 2d10
d6 Results: 4 (Total = 6)
d10 Results: 6, 3 (Total = 9)
Sum Total: 15

Edit: Weak hit. They ask something of you first. In the grand tradition on going easy on myself, I'll probably make this a narrative thing.

[Vladim]

Scene 13: Biding for time

Fourteen days after the Yule
Guthred's home
Company location: The Vales of Gundabad

 

In the days that came, the three conspirators-for that was what they now were-did as they had agreed. They kept their heads low, and tried to go about their usual affairs quietly, without raising any suspicions. Idunn had grown restless and wary, and felt stifled in Viglund's Great Hall. It seemed to her that she had nothing more to do here but bid her time, and she was not well-suited to sitting patiently while her companions endangered themselves to the North. Proving herself, seeking alliances, trying to change the minds of the Viglundings: those were all tasks she could apply herself to. But to do nothing but sit and watch... she grew restless, and wished to leave this place more than ever before, and hoped for another hunt, yet it never came.

It seemed to her that more eyes were upon her now. She thought she was watched, yet not only as before, but much more closely. She reckoned that her speech had earned her more scrutiny, and had to wonder if it was Viglund that had issued the command, or if this was merely the nature of his folk. Either way, the attention kept her on her toes at all times.

There was, however, one good thing to come out of it all. She spent much time with Aestid, whom she had neglected before, or dismissed as a mere child, forgetting that she herself was not much older, or treated with caution and some measure of mistrust, as she was Viglund's daughter. But all these concerns were a thing of the past. They soon became fast friends, and appreciated each other's company and conversation. The girl was wise and kind-much unlike most of Viglund's hardened folk-and she stood in stark contrast to them. She had to wonder if others like her existed amongst them. The mere prospect gave her hope. Perhaps they were not beyond salvation. Perhaps war was not inevitable. Perhaps Thane Merovech's task was not a fool's errand. Perhaps they were not much different from the Woodmen and the Beornings after all.

She had to persist, and keep to the plan. She could not endanger all of it, despite her eagerness to leave. Aestid had asked her to tell to Beorn and her folk, once all of this was over, that there were good folk still amongst the Viglundings. She was a living embodiment of it. She had agreed, and promised to do all that she could to help. At nights, she wished for more dreams, and some indication of the path forward...

[Vladim]

Scene 14: Lost

♫ The Banner Saga OST-Weary the weight of the sun ♫

Sixteen days after the Yule
Guthred's house
Company location: The lost watchtower

 

It was after a long and fruitless day that the dream came to her. With each passing day, she had been growing increasingly restless and idle-wild. The role of the gracious and grateful guest was becoming harder and harder to stomach. When it came to the company, she remained utterly in the dark, and wondered for how much longer she should wait. All such things gnawed at her and worried her, making sleep difficult. Thoughts and fears kept her up, despite her weariness.

But sleep would come eventually. Every night, she hoped for those strange shared dreams, so that she would at least meet her companions and hear that they were well. Such a dream would at least alleviate her worries. Help her decide what to do next. Yet it did not come.

"Perhaps they are dead." Inevitably, that dark thought would enter her mind. She would chase it away quickly, but as despair grew in her, it made the task more difficult. In times of greater clarity, she did not allow herself to lose hope, and yet... despair crept in slowly and by the day, tempting her to leave this place one way or another, Viglund be damned.

On that particular night, she dreamt that she was in a forest. Dense and tangled were the woods, their treetops intertwined, creating a canopy impenetrable to light. Mirkwood. The heart of the forest. She could tell. The rustling sound of leaves moved by the wind surrounded her; a wind that did not enter the wooded labyrinth beneath, making the chill air still and oppressive. The leaves themselves were yellowish-green, and slowly beginning to fall, as they did in late autumn, heralding the coming of winter.

She was lost. Hopelessly lost. She had strayed away from all roads and paths, and come to this maze from which she could not return. She remembered what had led her here. She was hunting something, the nature of which she could neither describe nor recall. Only that that task was all that had mattered. And yet, it was a strange dream, somewhat akin to those she had before. It was vivid, and yet she knew it to be just that: a dream. Fear begun to enter her heart, but it was countered by hope: for if this was a dream like the ones she had before, then perhaps she would see her companions. Perhaps they, too, had found themselves within this maze. Perhaps her task was to find them. There was no tower here, or at least she could not yet see it, but what of it? The dreams were strange; they defied reason.

Time flowed strangely within the dream. At times it would stand still, as if a moment had been frozen in time. At others, it would seem as if days and days passed in the blink of an eye. It was impossible to keep track of it. But though she searched and searched for days on end, she found nothing. She only ventured deeper and deeper, becoming more and more lost. She begun to lose hope and courage, and sought to awaken, only to find that she could not. The thought of becoming trapped here forever terrified her, but as those dark thoughts entered her mind, she heard the sound of another, and turned to look.

"You are lost." said a male, familiar voice, coming from behind. She turned to see him, hoping that she had not at last completely lost her mind. What she saw was the last thing she had expected.

[Vladim]

 

♫ Shadows of Esteren-Tulg Naomh ♫

 

Was it a ghost or apparition? Something sent to tempt or test her? Idunn looked at the man, and she could not believe her eyes. And yet... she had longed for this moment, and though this was but a dream, but a mere illusion, she did not care. It felt real enough to her, and so it was precious: a memory to be treasured for years and decades to come. For he who stood before her was Grimborn, her late betrothed, who had been slain but days before their wedding-day by the Beast of Mirkwood.

She had no words to speak. What could she say? She had thought him lost, and had only his memory. But despite her desperate efforts to hold onto it, the memory had been fading, diminishing with each passing year. He had left her with little to remember him by; nothing but his words and her feelings, and his hound, Uthred, who had passed to her. But now he stood before her as he had in the past, life-like, just as she remembered him, and all those half-forgotten memories were at once remembered. She wanted more than anything to hold onto that moment, knowing that she might wake up at any second, seeking to reconnect with the one she had loved-the only one she had loved-and then lost so quickly. Knowing that this dream would rekindle the memory.

She embraced him, and she wept, unable to hold back the tears. He held her, and for a while they remained silent. Gentle rain begun to fall from the sky, tapping against the leaves, the errant drop finding its way to the old lovers on rare occasion, as if the sky itself was lamenting their loss of each other. The huntress could spend an eternity like this, and yet every moment was precious. She vacillated between remaining quiet, too afraid to shatter the fragile illusion, and speaking, but she longed to hear his voice again. Was it indeed as she remembered it? Or had the passing of years changed her memory of it?

"I thought you lost." she said at last, and looked into his eyes, fearing that he might vanish, like an old spell would, if sound were made. "Dead." her mind reminded her, but the word was too harsh to utter. "Are you truly him?" she asked at length, fearful of the answer.

"As true as dreams and memories." said he with a bitter smile, and a voice just like the one she knew and loved. She held her hand gently, as if to reassure her that she had nothing to fear.

"I never took another..." she confided in him and lowered her gaze. How long had it been? Six years almost... Six years that felt as an eternity. What would have become of them if Fate had not ended the thread? Many times she had thought of it, and of what could have been.

He embraced her again, as if sensing her sorrow, and did not speak until some time had passed. "I know it... And I know what burdens you. I know you. Time has changed nothing of it."

Still she could not be at ease. She felt guilty and ashamed. "I have not avenged you yet..." she admitted, and looked to him as if awaiting judgement. But judgement never came.

"The dead do not want vengeance..." he said, and smiled. She looked at him and it was as if he was slowly fading, and the sight frightened her-not because it unnerved her, but because she desired a few more moments with him. But he did not vanish, granting her her wish.

"I came to guide you. Do not throw your life away on an empty quest for vengeance. We were only given a few months, and yet you came to know me better than any other. I would not wish for you to follow in my footsteps. There are other tasks, more important. Help others. Seek joy, if you can. Do not repeat my mistakes."

She looked upon his face and wavered. His thoughts were hers, though she had never voiced them. She had never dared. She thought them doubts and weakness. To hear him speak them frightened her, and initially she refused to believe them. But she understood, and so she did not contradict him.

She could speak on. Yet she knew him for what he was: a piece of her mind. Her memory of him. His words were hers, and hers his. That was all that was left of him. And yet he was no illusion. He was no lie. Her memory had preserved him in some corner of her mind, even if she needed to dream to manifest it fully.

This was no time for words. She embraced him again, and so the two remained in each other's arms, until both they and the dream and the world around them faded.

She would never forget it.

 

Last Tea House Mechanics

Ok, this may be a bit... unusual, but I want to try a game of the Last Tea Shop as a dream scene. Maybe not the most Tolkien-esque but... let's try anyway.

First, let's roll twice to decide where the shop is located.

Location:
Dice Roll: 2d6
d6 Results: 5, 1 (Total = 6)

Edit: Ok, I'll take 1. A windy cliff overlooking the ocean.

Then, choose or make up two affinities. Let's say winds and loss.

Then, name the place. Shall we cal it "The last waystation"?

Then, determine supplies:

 

Supplies:
Dice Roll: 2d6
d6 Results: 1, 1 (Total = 2)

Edit: Sea salt.

 

Supplies:
Dice Roll: 2d6
d6 Results: 2, 3 (Total = 5)

Edit: Quartz crystal.

 

Supplies:
Dice Roll: 2d6
d6 Results: 2, 1 (Total = 3)

Edit: Sea salt.

 

Supplies:
Dice Roll: 2d6
d6 Results: 6, 1 (Total = 7)

Edit: Ancient seashell.
Then, roll for days/visitor:

 

Days:
Dice Roll: 1d6
d6 Results: 4

Edit: A sailor.
Then, roll for weather:

 

Weather:
Dice Roll: 1d6
d6 Results: 5

Edit: Persistent drizzle.

[Vladim]

♫ Machinarium OST-The Sea ♫

There stands a lone hut at the windswept cliffs of a western shore. Few know it, and fewer yet stray from their paths to visit it. It was a lighthouse once, but the tower has crumbled to the ground a long time ago. She does not remember how or when or why she came here. She spends her days gathering herbs from the hills and shells from the shore, and sees the ships sail by and vanish into the western horizon. The ships carry the elves across the Sundering Seas, from which they are never to return. On most days, the sound of the waves crushing against the ragged rocky coast is her sole and constant companion.

She does not mind it. It is peaceful and beautiful, and here at last she has found some measure of tranquility.

Time is strange here. Days and memories blur. At times she gets visitors, strangers who stumble here as they travel, each of them on some errand or another. Nobody visited yesterday-she is certain of it. Someone passed last week, but she is unable to recall his face. Today it is raining. In fact, it has been raining for three days. A persistent and ceaseless drizzle that has kept her indoors, by a cozy fire. She sips her tea and she tries to remember, but can only manage to recall hazy images. She is content here, and so she does not trouble herself with questions.

There is a knock on the door, and so she opens it. Visitors are rare, but the laws of hospitality must be respected. When she opens it, she sees a weary and bedraggled sailor. He is soaked to the bone, and so she rashes him to her fire, and urges him to take off his shoes and cloak and dry them by it. She prepares tea, and the two sit and speak for a while as it slowly brews.

[Vladim]

She asks about the sea at first. She has spent countless hours gazing into the distant horizon, thinking longingly about wandering the seas, but she has never even set foot on a ship. She wonders what it would be like to live on one for days on end. She thinks she would enjoy it, but the old and weary sailor thinks little of her daydreams and naïve thoughts. He has met land-folk like her before, and knows the sea all too well to harbor such illusions.

She asks of his memories. He speaks of weariness and fear, and of a deep longing for all those he had to leave behind to journey: kin and kith, a wife, children. He speaks of his plight; the plight of all seafarers: cold, hunger, weariness and heart-sickness, and knowing not what the next day will bring. He urges her to remain on the land, where things are more certain, and life easier, but she is not convinced, thinking him merely as one too weary and miserable to see its beauty.

When they sit by the hearth to sip their tea, she asks him if he knows anything about the lands that lie beyond, to the west. He laughs at her ignorance and informs her that he does not. In all his life, he has never ventured too far from the coast; the lands of the elves are naught but tales and legends to him. But her childlike sense of wonder, combined with the warmth, seem to gradually improve his mood, and he shares the story of Eärendil with her, and of the Evening Star, and of hope. The telling of the tale seems to lift his spirits. When he departs, he seems better off, and he bids her farewell, now eager to continue his journey.

She is to forget it all as soon as she awakens.

 

OOC

Affinities: Winds, Loss
Ingredients: Sea salt x 2, Quartz Crystal, Seashell. Re-fluffed into herbs.
Day: 4
Weather: Persistent drizzle.

 

Days:
Dice Roll: 1d6
d6 Results: 3

Weather:
Dice Roll: 1d6
d6 Results: 5

Edit: Beekeeper. Persistent drizzle.

[Vladim]

The rain continues ceaselessly for several says. She can hear the drops break against her roof. The weather is grey and dreary, but she enjoys the contemplative mood it puts her in. Her next visitor is a bee-keeper, one that seems somewhat familiar, though she cannot quite place her finger on it.

She asks for his name, but he has no answer. She asks for who he was in life, but he does not remember. She tells him that he seems familiar, but he merely shrugs. He is world-weary and exhausted. Is it life that made him thus, or his journey? She does not ask. She merely examines her shelves, seeking herbs and remedies that an old man once taught her how to make. There must be something for memories and loss somewhere. At length she finds it, and offers a warm balm to the bee-keeper, who graciously accepts it.

She asks again. He stays still and silent for a moment, as if straining, but eventually he is able to unearth fragments from his mind. He was a Thane once... he served a great lord. He had a good life, but it was abruptly ended. He had not expected it, and he was unprepared. He had an important task to finish, but that is all he can recall. Everything else is greyness and shadows.

He departs hastily, as if perturbed by his own memories. As if racing against time, though she is certain that his task is lost to him. How so, she cannot say, but she is more than before sure that he is familiar... Perhaps someone she once knew.

Who can tell?

 

OOC

Affinities: Winds, Loss
Ingredients: Sea salt x 2, Quartz Crystal, Seashell. Re-fluffed into herbs.
Day: 7
Weather: Persistent drizzle.

---

Affinities: Winds, Loss
Ingredients: Sea salt x 2, Quartz Crystal, Seashell. Re-fluffed into herbs.
Day: 7
Weather: Persistent drizzle.

---

Ingredient:
Dice Roll: 2d6
d6 Results: 4, 2 (Total = 6)

Edit: Cloud dew.

[Vladim]

At last the rain has stopped. In its place, a white, all-embracing mist has arisen. It swirls around the hut, animated by the gentle sea breeze. She cannot see far into it, so she walks carefully when she ventures outside. It is dangerous; one wrong step and she could plummet into the ocean below.

She hears him before she sees him. He is lost in the mist, and seems to be crying out for something or someone. He has heard about her little hut. He sought it out, and he has almost found it. For a moment, she considers not responding. Perhaps it would be best to be left alone. But it is too dangerous to leave him like this. She calls back, and soon enough they are inside.

He is a scholar. He has spent all his year accumulating any and all lore he could find. Someone who has amassed so much knowledge must be wise indeed. Perhaps he has the answers to her questions. When they begin to converse, she asks what he might be doing here. Visitors usually arrive by accident, not on purpose. He seems confused, but eventually he explains that he is seeking ruins. He speaks of an ancient kingdom that once existed here, but was sank beneath the waves. She listens with curiosity, and in amazement. She does not need to speak much herself. His tales could fill tome upon tome.

She asks for his happiest memory. He seems to struggle to recall it. She perceives it, and does not press on. She says she might have something that could aid him. He looks at her with confusion and skepticism, but when the tea is readied, he sits with her. It rekindles his memory, and he speaks animatedly of a white city, and of endless libraries where one could get lost in. He is nostalgic, like someone speaking of home.

 

OOC

Affinities: Winds, Loss
Ingredients: Sea salt x 2, Quartz Crystal, Seashell, Cloud dew. Re-fluffed into herbs.
Day: 12
Weather: Swirling white mist.
Mood: Confusion.
Visitor: Librarian.

---

Days:
Dice Roll: 1d6
d6 Results: 5

Weather:
Dice Roll: 1d6
d6 Results: 4

Edit: Guardsman. Swirling white mist / Confusion.

---

Ingredient:
Dice Roll: 2d6
d6 Results: 4, 5 (Total = 9)

Edit: Feather moss.

[Vladim]

Five more days go by, though they might as well be aeons. She stokes her fire and waits for the mists to subside. She wishes to see the ships again, but the fog will not permit it.

Her fourth visitor says he was a guardsman in life. He served some important lord or lady. He does not know what drew him here, or why he embarked on this journey. He was lost in the mists, but a gust of wind from the shore blew them away for a while, and he chanced upon her hut. He knows he must continue, even if he cannot say what his destination could be.

When she feels comfortable enough to speak, the two swap whatever tidings they can recall. She asks him what it was that drew him to serve another. He speaks of his lord in glowing terms, as if he were a great man, someone worth following. He speaks of duty and honor. But his lord has passed, leaving him masterless. She wonders if there were any he had to leave behind before embarking on his journey. He nods but does not say more, and sinks into a gloomy mood.

She does not press him on the matter. Over time and tea, he gradually eases a little, and begins to speak of it-of a family and of children that he left at home. It is clear that the matter weighs heavily on him. But the memories are happy ones. Perhaps he will reunite with them again. That seems to be his hope. She bids him farewell, telling him that she hopes it will indeed be so.

[Vladim]

The sun shines its beams through the clouds, and the mists dissolve in their wake. It is a beautiful morning. The weather is gentle, the light beautiful, and the singing of birds mingles with the sound of the waves. Perhaps spring, or summer, are just around the corner. The foul weather had kept her confined within in recent weeks, but now she spends at least as much time outdoors, absorbing the scenery and taking long, meditative walks.

Her sojourn here is quickly drawing to an end. She cannot say how, but she can sense it. When one morning she meets a great lord or king upon a white steed, the two converse as they walk. He is in search of one of his knights, a loyal follower who departed from his lands a mere days before, after a valiant, but final, deed. He also seeks the wise woman that lives along these shores. Wise woman? She has never heard of anything like it, but that's all the same. Visitors and travelers always come with the queerest of ideas...

She asks him of the virtues of rulership, and what he deems most important. He speaks of justice and temperance. He is, or rather was, a good kind. Peaceful was his rule, and his reign prosperous. His subjects loved him. But he regrets not lingering for longer amongst them. He had to depart hastily, without warning. He too was caught unprepared. And though he was mighty once, now what he regrets most of all is not bidding them farewell. If only he had a little more time...

Once inside the hut, the two rest for a while. A hot drink warms his spirit, and chases away the gloom. What lies beyond? she asks. He does not know, but states the importance of facing it in a calm and dignified manner, whatever it may be. Such is the way of nobility, it seems. Perhaps he is correct.

[Vladim]

The hooded one arrives on the next day. The weather has taken a turn for the worst; perhaps the heralds of summer were premature with their tidings. She helps him get out of the rain, taking his walking-stick and his heavy cloak. A great hound accompanies him, old, nearly blind, all skin and bones. It seems to recognize her, wagging its tail excitedly as soon as it sees her, as if it knew her once. A thing most curious, but perhaps the creature is too old, too confused.

It was as if she knew of his arrival. The rooms have all been tidied, and everything is clean and in its place. Food and drink have been prepared for the traveler, and everything has been laid out carefully on the table. She knows, somehow, that he has come to take her away, and soon she too will follow in the footsteps of all those travelers that have passed by.

He seems to recognize her, though she does not. He is a pleasant enough fellow. He does not try to frighten her with tales of the unknown lands that lie beyond. She must guess that he knows, but he does not reveal much yet. Nor does she press him on the matter. But eventually it arises nevertheless. She asks her questions, but he remains cryptic.

What now? What comes next? For a little while, he falls silent, but when he speaks, he says that it is not time yet. One day-perhaps soon. A pity. Afraid though she might have been, she was growing curious. She too would like to see the lands beyond. Must she remain here? And for how much longer? She likes her little hut, but she is bound to grow tired of it some day.

She awakens in Guthred's house. 'What a strange dream...' she thinks to herself, but the memory is already beginning to fade, and only fragments of it remain. Most of all, Grimborn. Of that, at least, she is glad.

[Vladim]

Scene 15: Sojourn's End

♫ The Pathless-Pilgrimage ♫

Twenty-four days after the Yule
Viglund's Great Hall
Company location: The lost watchtower

 

Two more days of frustrated waiting passed without incident. She did not have the dream again, though she longed for it. Then, on the morning of the eighteenth day after the Yule, came tidings and hope borne on raven-wings.

At first she thought it merely a coincidence. She was not blessed with knowledge of the speech of birds like her Lake-Town companion, and she observed the raven idly circle from down below, and the realization that it was one of their own did not arrive at once. But, of course, it was not by chance; as the bird descended, he could at last tell that it was one of her companions', and she set out to approach with as much secrecy as her predicament could afford her.

What she found was a message, succinct but sufficient to put her fears to rest. They were well still. Not only had they managed to find the tower, but also to regain it, and though the message was sparse on the details, she could read between the lines. They were trapped now, but they needed only to wait for Beorn's arrival. Surely he would come. She and the bear-lord had their differences, but he knew him to be a man of honor. He would come... and so nothing was left to her but to sit tight, and wait patiently, and try with all her will to suppress thoughts of escape for the next few days.

Her patience was rewarded. It happened as she had hoped. On the twenty-fourth day after the Yule, nearly a month after her companions' departure to the North, a host of Beornings arrived at Viglund's doorstep, led by none other than Beorn himself. To come thusly, in person, must have meant that this matter was important, even to him. For there was no love lost between Viglund and Beorn, and their respective peoples reflected that sentiment back at each other.

Yet there was not much they could do beyond tolerate each other. For Beorn, despite his might and reputation, was but a guest here; Viglund, on the other hand, could not so easily dismiss or defy him now that a great host of Beornings was in his land, despite Viglar's protestations. The two spoke for a day, and in the night Beorn's folk remained outside, in tents, rather than partake in the Viglundings' hospitality. What the two men spoke of few could say or guess; even Idunn was excluded from these discussions. But they seemed to arrive to some kind of understanding... for on the next day, Beorn and his peoples departed, having been granted passage to the North.

Idunn did not join them, but when soon after a host of Viglundings was dispatched to march North too, she was allowed to go, under Guthred's care. They were a smaller host, but strong still, and all amongst them bore arms and wore armor... and even the Thanes and the weorod joined them, led by Viglund himself...

 

OOC

Probably time to fulfill the vow. Let's not drag this on:

Fulfill your Vow:
Dice Roll: 2d10
d10 Results: 6, 8 (Total = 14)

Edit: Weak hit. I'll take it.
On a weak hit, there is more to be done or you realize the truth of your quest. Envision what you discover.

[Vladim]

(OOC: Bumping to keep adventures in chronological order.)