Year 2947: Theft of the Moon

[Vladim]

Idunn nods at Nori as he expresses his desire to join her. Truth be told, Hartfast valued the dwarves, and Nori’s support would be very welcome. She takes a few steps towards the door when she spots her chieftain, and decides to return to the table as he sees Hartfast approach. She quietly observes the old man eat before finding the right moment to address him.

’You wish to speak of the festival in Stoneyford, do you not? I sought you earlier, but you were discussing with Magric. I caught only a few of the words you exchanged, yet there still seem to be things that neither I nor my companions have been informed of… Something about a man called Viglund, though none here know him.’

As she speaks, her tone changes and, although she knows that Hartfast rightly deserves respect, her gruff words betray her impatience:

’If we are to be emissaries of Mountain Hall, then we must know your intentions, Hartfast, son of Hartmut. Who is this Viglund, and why should we trust Magric? Lies and secrets are the way of the eafolk, or the merchants of Esgaroth, but not of the Woodmen of Mountain Hall!’

[Vladim]

Almarion sipped another gulp from the ceramic mug of mead she was holding. It was good mead, obviously made by someone who had taken pride in making it. In many ways that described what she had seen from the people in these parts. Good hard working folk proud of what they did and how they did it. She respected that. It was folk like these that made the fight against the shadow worth fighting.

Her attention had slipped from the man Gramtyng for a second and so she was not sure whether or not he had directed a question at her or not. She couldn't even remember what name she had given, one of the problems with having two of them. She used Almarion with strangers and elves and formal occasions usually and Yonithil when at home with friends and family in the Angle.

"I do not recall the name I gave you. Almarion is Quenya. Yonithil is Adunaic. Both mean Blessed"

Almarion snorted at the thought and continued

"My family give a name in each tongue to their children by longstanding tradition."

Even that much extra information was more than Almarion would usually give. Perhaps it was the mead. Or maybe she was just being especially sociable, for her anyway, because she had just met these people.

Turning to Idunn she added

"I shall come with you also. I made a promise to Arphel to stand in her stead, and so I will. besides, I need to get to know the folk in these parts if I am to be of use to them."

[Vladim]

Borin sat brooding as the others conversed. A flood of emotions ran through him as he contemplated the collapse of the mine. HIS mine! There was guilt over the lives lost, anger that they'd not listened to his teachings more, guilt that he hadn't done a better job instructing them, worry over the future of the mine, and guilt for even considering something like material gains when lives were lost. Guilt was't an emotion the dwarf was used to feeling, and he certainly didn't like it. He considered just wiping his hands of the whole mess and moving on. He had no real ties here, after all, nothing to bring him back. He could walk away and be done with it. But then the people here would surely never aid him or his kin.

Besides, after living for a year amongst them, Borin found he liked these Woodmen. He'd made friends with some of them, had shared countless nights drinking and swapping tales. Despite all the hard work of getting the mine up and running, and the recent collapse, Borin found this had been one of the most relaxing years he could remember. No orcs to kill, no trolls threatening to eat him, nothing more dangerous than a cave-in or a fall. Both of which he, at least, knew how to avoid, he thought sourly to himself.

The dwarf listened with half an ear at best to Idunn's declarations. He'd gotten to know the woman over the last year, and knew to expect such outbursts. Especially when she was impatient (which seemed to be often). However, the dwarf didn't much care for this fellow either. The man was far too full of himself for comfort, not to mention far too slovenly. No, Borin would not be trusting the man any further than he could throw him. But he would follow nonetheless; he had every intention of attending the Beornings' festival. He'd seen Beorn's charge during the Battle, had witnessed the massive bear crush the accursed Bolg. The chance of recruiting such help to retake his homeland...no, he could not ignore it.

[Vladim]

If Irime's distant attention to Bella had disturbed the cheerful hobbit, it certainly hadn't been for long. For soon, Bella was lost in the mail and corresspondence from home. The sheets even smelled of Old Toby. Currently, Bella was making due with what pipeweed had been scraped from the nooks and crannies of big folk dwellings. It might have been ground-up parchment she was smoking, for all Bella knew as she was back in the Shire, at least in mind.

It was a joyous muddle, ridding through all of the gossip, minutae and other mathoms of humble script. Reading about Dino and Dody did make her wonder. Wandering wasn't for all hobbits but it was for Tooks more than most. And then the conversation around her finally seeped into her thoughts as she understood.

"Not children but kin! Beorn may be sheltering some of my family." Bella had spoke her thoughts aloud, not with any real intention to communicate. Her eyes shone with a newfound determination to seek out this Beorn.

[Vladim]

If Irime's distant attention to Bella had disturbed the cheerful hobbit, it certainly hadn't been for long. For soon, Bella was lost in the mail and corresspondence from home. The sheets even smelled of Old Toby. Currently, Bella was making due with what pipeweed had been scraped from the nooks and crannies of big folk dwellings. It might have been ground-up parchment she was smoking, for all Bella knew as she was back in the Shire, at least in mind.

It was a joyous muddle, ridding through all of the gossip, minutae and other mathoms of humble script. Reading about Dino and Dody did make her wonder. Wandering wasn't for all hobbits but it was for Tooks more than most. And then the conversation around her finally seeped into her thoughts as she understood.

"Not children but kin! Beorn may be sheltering some of my family." Bella had spoke her thoughts aloud, not with any real intention to communicate. Her eyes shone with a newfound determination to seek out this Beorn.

---

"Ah, come now, the earfolc aren't that bad! They only lie sometimes, after all." Gramtyng chuckled, putting his empty mug aside and looking up at Hartfast while leaning on the table with one elbow, propping up his head. "You'know I think what my friend is trying to say is that well... you know us." He wore a confident smile. "You know we're capable and trustworthy, and wont back down from whatever comes to light, even if it is that..." He grimaced, looking like he bit into something bitter, as he recalled the thing in the well: "...that thing shouldn't really be seeing the light of day anyway. We stick up for each other and get things done, you know? Hard to do if we don't know what you're expecting of us." He chuckled, pouring himself some more ale, before replying to Almarion: "Two names huh? Well, either works for me, whichever you're more comfortable with, so long as you've the steel and mettle to back us up when it gets difficult."

---

"Hrrmph." Hartfast scratched chin uncertainly. "Your boast is wasted on me, son of Fastred, but I understand what you two are trying to say." He looked at the ceiling, placing his hands across his chest and considering something carefully: "My request of you is to merely represent Mountain Hall at this harvest festival of Beorn's." He said finally. "Magric is simply there just in case something unexpected happens. He isnt meant to guide you or lead you, unless you wish for that." Hartfast shrugged. "Beorn keeps his own council, and does not like those that meddle in his affairs, be they man, dwarf, or elf. He does, however, hate goblins..." Hartfast's face darkens slightly: "I do not want to sway your view of Viglund either way. As far as I know he will not be attending, but his emissaries likely will be. Bias and hostility is something I want to avoid - what I do want you to do is remain friendly unless your honor is insulted."

LM Note: Hartfast is reluctant to explain Viglund, essentially.

[Vladim]

The Bride considers her words carefully before replying to her chief. ’You make strange requests, Hartfast.’ she finally says. ’You wish us to remain unbiased against a man with a reputation for cruelty. But if Viglund’s reputation in the North is deserved, then the presence of his men in Beorn's lands will not be well received…’

She pauses, contemplating the nature of the journey that lies ahead. Despite having her suspicions confirmed, she can do little but accept, as Merovech still needs to see her.

’I will abide by your words nonetheless. No knives will be drawn unless in defence, and I will do what I can to avoid tensions. But rest assured that if things go sour, and if the emissaries of Viglund resort to violence, then we will *not* be needing Magric’s help: we have faced far worse in the heart of Mirkwood.

Is there anything else we should know, or should we begin preparations?’

[Vladim]

Perhaps afraid to speak over Idunn given her relationship to Hartfast and address the man directly, Nori turns to look up at the Woodswoman and asks in a semi-hushed tone with his face contorted into some visible sign of concern, "What does he mean 'if something unexpected happens'? What's to be expected that's unexpected?" The dwarf's eyes then turn back to Hartfast, as if wondering if the chieftan is going to answer for Idunn or just taking in a sight of the man, wondering what game he's playing.

[Vladim]

It was none of Almarions business to speak, but if her new companions were going to be offended by her manner it was better to find out now than later.

"It is a leaders burden to decide which secrets to keep and which to speak. There are many reasons for wanting an open mind on a man with a bad reputation. The reputation may be false and if the leader wants an honest measure of a man rather than a retelling of a rumour, the reputation must be judged afresh. Also it is easy for a leader to get a reputation for cruelty if his people live under difficult times. But if that reputation is tempered by fairness, then perhaps the cruelty is only done out of need. For instance seizing food from farmers to feed the starving during a famine. The farmers may consider this cruel as they cannot sell at high price to the wealthy, but the town lives."

[Vladim]

Excited at the possibility of meeting her kinsmen this far out in Eriador, Bella chose to put an optomistic outlook forward. "May we meet friends so that we may be friends." She finished another pint of something that warmed her belly and then muttered, "For I have seen what we can do to our enemies."

[Vladim]

Nori

Using his keen observation skills, and adding that to what he knows of Hartfast and the Woodmen in general, Nori is able to understand that for one, Hartfast is not lying - it becomes very apparent when the old chief tries to do something deceptive simply by observing his body language: he begins to pull at his beard. The notes of worry do in his voice does not escape the dwarven craftsman, however, and although Hartfast is quite sincere, it seems he is distracted by something else he considers concerning; perhaps that is why he is not being entirely open. The old man does look nearly directly at Nori when he speaks to Idunn about 'what could go wrong', and his brow is raised somewhat quizzically. Nori gets the feeling that the man isnt entirely sure what Viglund himself could pull - after all, it is a large festival in the middle of Beorning lands.

"It is but a byname, Bride. The Viglundings have a similar tradition to the Beornings when it comes to them - they are a sort of rite of adulthood. They are usually awarded based on some highlight or incident that is key to that person; I confess I've no idea what caused them to give Viglund his Byname. It may even be given in ... humor, I suppose." He nodded towards Almarion: "You've the right of it. He may have been named such out of spite and kept it as a reminder. We do not know terribly much of their land - most of the news are what Magric brings us. Still, there are some things we do. As for Beorn..."

The woodman pulled out a large handkerchief, and tiredly wiped his forehead, before pocketing it again: "Beorn has never expressed anything about Viglund, so I cannot say I know his mind on this matter." His eyes darkened as he folded his hands, raising his eyes towards the carved wooden ceiling of the common hall, drawing an uneven breath and remaining silent for a good minute. Somehow, the Tallest Dwarf seemed much older than he had been in that moment, put as he opened his eyes and directed his gaze at the company once more, it seemed to have passed. "I do not expect open hostilities. Though the Beornings and Viglundings feud, openly breaking tradition like that does not strike me as something someone of Viglund's intellect would do." He half-turned to Bella, smiling through his beard: "Aye. Would be a grand thing, would it not? If the people of Middle-Earth understood that petty squabbles are meaningless and unworthy for those that oppose the Shadow."

---

A frown creased Gramtyng's forehead when he'd heard the last few words Hartfast spoke, as he glumly looked inside his mug, making certain there was nothing left inside. It reminded him of the mess that'd been happening back in his old home, of the mad king whose court cared more for pleasing their unstable king who than getting rid of the the orcs and goblins that could easily be found polluting the wide, open plains of the Mark... of the ceaseless hostilities with the Dunledings and mutual hatreds flaring from both sides, and of superstition and fear his own people felt at those who were born under the wrong mountain. "Wouldnt that be a sight to see..." He muttered. He briefly pondered what manner of feuds the Beornings and Viglundings have and if they were anything like the raids and disputes the Rohirrim had with the Dunledings.

[Vladim]

’Perhaps you are right,’ says the Bride to Hartfast and Almarion, ’though we best be careful. But guess-work is of little use now. We shall soon see for ourselves if this Viglund deserves his byname.’

She makes a mental note to question Magric about the matter. He seems a man with strong opinions, and even if she disagrees with him, she can perhaps learn something about the situation nonetheless. But this can wait-the journey is at hand, and there are preparations to be made.

She waits for Hartfast to conclude and take his leave before she speaks to her dwarven companion, Nori, whose earlier comment has been noted.

[OOC: To Nori; but it can be overheard by others.]

’I do not like this, not one bit. The old man has always been stubborn, but I was hoping to sway his mind. No matter-whatever happens, we will be ready for it.’

[Vladim]

There's a brief, silent exchange between Nori and Hartfast - the two staring at one another while others speak as if sizing each other up or merely posturing themselves in the conversation. What exactly is 'said' between the two isn't clear, but there's clearly some communication taking place or reading of positions on the matter of the Fellowship venturing out to the festival. In the end, neither man says anything of it as others interject into the conversation and Hartfast is forced to speak up.

When Idunn communicates her displeasure with their task, Nori nods his head once and firmly as his eyes turn towards the direction which Hartfast wandered. "Something's on his mind, that's for sure..." Nori says with a bit of a scoff. "... but I don't think he's worried about this Viglund at all. Seems like we should be looking out for trouble from someone or something else," he then adds before turning his sights back to the Woodswoman. Looking up at her with his fists burying themselves into his sides, his stubby arms now sticking out on either side of him, the dwarf tells her, "I'd press him further but I hate to spit in the face of generosity this soon. Hopefully that's not anything I... /we/... will regret."

[Vladim]

"With that, I leave you." Hartfast got up heavily, taking the bowl of stew he'd been neglecting as he got up. "While you represent us at the Festival, I've a few things to take care of here, myself." He nodded with a serious expression to the company, and left the common hall.

---

Gramtyng, who had been keeping his eyes closed for the rest of the conversation, pretending to nap as he'd not had much to add to it, finally half-opened one eye. "Old man hasnt steered us wrong yet. I'd like to think he wont, either." He sat up straight, massaging his eyes and then adjusting his cloak around his shoulders: when Hartfast opened the door, a brief autumn chill had swept its way inside, making the minstrel uncomfortable. It had not been winter yet, by far, but at this proximity to the Misty Mountains, many things had changed. Still, it was not unwelcome, as he felt more awake now than before: "I think all of you, Hartfast included, are worrying too much. I understand being prepared n' all, but there's prepared and then there's paranoid. Sharpen your weapons, wear your armor, but dont meet others with a glum face. After all, this will be a festival! Besides... No use worrying about what you cant help nor know about. Dunno about you, but I plan to have some fun." Having said this, the minstrel also gets up and begins to pick up what little of his belongings lay about the Common Hall, intent on packing.

---

The journey to Stonyford is about 120 miles from Mountainhall; it takes the companions south of the Old Ford, and will take the companions a solid 6 days, but is over easy terrain that is simple to navigate. Nevertheless, it is a borderland, and so, is at TN14. 2 Fatigue tests will have to be made. A Lore check against TN14 will earn you bonus dice for the Travel roll, as always. The path proposed crosses at the old ford, and then goes south towards the settlement - if you would like to ford the river, that possible too, but will require further Athletics checks. I will narrate the journey; but I would like to try do a short camp scene per fatigue check where the companions have a chance to use their '2 rolls per day' rule, to make the camping a bit more believable: for example, if Bella is the Scout, she would be finding a place to sleep for that night and so on - this can lead to further little adventures, so I believe its worth looking into. This also adds some interaction scenes for the fellowship - however, if people dislike the idea or wish to get straight to the end of the journey, we can do that next time we have to travel.

So, to reiterate, what is needed:

• Lore Roll vs TN14 (if you want bonus dice on your Travel Roll)
• Travel Roll vs TN14 (So you dont get fatigue)
• Please re-confirm your role in the Fellowship. There may only be one Guide, but multiples of other roles - for example, Nori was the Guide before (and may wish to stay that way), and Gramtyng was one of the Huntsmen.
• Your role... roll. Huntsman rolls Hunting, Scout rolls Explore, Lookout rolls Awareness. The Guide's roll is Travel.

You have the option of making one additional roll of your choice - just an explanation of what you're doing during camping, or the journey - for example, if you're worried about camp security, you could roll Battle to observe the advantages and disadvantages, or Craft to cook food, etc.

[Vladim]

Soon after Hartfast gets up, so does the Bride. ’You are right,’ she says to Gramtyng, ’we must not raise suspicions. But I *will* be ready…’

She turns to Nori, their leader, as she gathers her meagre belongings from the Great House: a cloak and the rope given to her by Ellerina. ’I trust you to lead us, as you have done in the past. I know these lands, and I can scout or hunt as we journey to Stonyford.’

She then turns to the newcomers, addressing them both before the fellowship departs. ’We shall leave soon. Nori will be our guide, and my companions will help him. But you are welcome to contribute with your own gifts and talents, whatever those may be.’

(Sometime during the journey...)

During the journey, Idunn seeks an opportunity to speak with Magric alone. The man may be a Woodman, yet she does not know him, and his habits and vices did not inspire much trust. She gets her chance on the second day, a few hours before sunrise, and decides to confront the man.

’I do not know you well, Magric of Mountain Hall, but I think you are not telling us all you know. You called my cousin pig-headed, insulting him behind his back-I heard it with my own ears.

If you disagree with him, why don’t you do so in Stonyford, at his face, like a man of honour? I could secure you an audience...’

[Vladim]

Nori gives a respectful nod to Idunn as she entrusts him to guide them to Stonyford. For the older members of the Fellowship, this may or may not sit well. Nori, for his part, has been a dependable and durable guide - ensuring that the party moves at pace which should fatigue none of them. Whether he has kept them moving as quickly as they might like is a different story altogether. Either way, Nori replies, "We should be quite safe then," - referencing his own growing trust in the woodswoman and other members of the fellowship that lent their awareness to guiding the group safely from destination to destination.

During the journey...

Nori moves at his same rigorous (at least, for a dwarf) pace along the routes leading to Stonybrook, always attempting to take the path of least resistance, not only for his sake, but the well-being of others. Most of the time, he chooses correctly, but there are one or two occasions he seems to cut through overgrown areas that may have been a little more difficult to traverse than he had hoped. Nonetheless, the Fellowship is able to keep moving forward.

During periods of "thoughtless" travel he seems to sidle up alongside Almarion, apparently attempting to get to know the newcomer to the Fellowship, whether she's talkative or not. Nori doesn't seem to have the gift of gab himself, but it's clear the dwarf tries to make the effort. He begins with a solemn apology to the circumstances that brought her to the Hall in the first place. "It was kind of you to bring that ring all the way to the Mountain Hall," he tells her at first. "I'm certain it meant a great deal to her," Nori then adds. "She already lost a great deal." There's a brief pause on his part before he asks unsuredly, "Where... Where was it you came from again?"