Year 2947: Theft of the Moon

[Vladim]

As the company approaches the village, Idunn observes all the hustle and bustle with relief and interest. Relief, because the ongoing preparations clearly show that the fellowship is not late for the festival. Interest, because she has never visited a Beorning village, despite the proximity. Her wolf-hound, Uthred, unused to such noise and activity, becomes excited, and he barks at the big bull angrily and tries to chase him, but manages only to impress a few Beorning children, and perhaps irritate the strong, arrogant man.

’Come here, Uthred!’ cries the Bride. The dog, despite his excitement, heeds the command of the huntress and quickly returns to her side just as Ava addresses the party. Idunn remains silent, letting her companions introduce themselves individually if they so desire, before she speaks for herself.

’Greetings, Ava, daughter of Hartwulf. We are travelers from Mountain-Hall, seeking to attend your festival. I am Idunn, daughter of Theodwin, a huntress from Firienseld, and these are my companions.

Our chieftain, Hartfast, son of Hartmut, sent us here to strengthen the ties between our folk and yours. The Woodmen and the Beornings have always been allies. I was also told that my cousin, Merovech, is here in Stonyford. Could you please tell me where to find him?’

[Vladim]

Bella wished to find her kinsman, if they were still here. Or ever had been here, Bella thought. It wasn't that she thought anyone had been deliberately disingenious to her. It was just that details could get foggy over the leagues and weeks and all of the intervening voices in the telling.

But for now, Lady Ava had to be greeted. Being small, halflings learned quickly to sense the mood of Big Folk ('everybody else' barring a dwarf dwarf) and how to adapt to those moods.

"Thank you, Lady Ava, for your hospitality. I am Bella Bracegirdle of the Shire. How may I be of assitance to you?"

[Vladim]

Nori says nothing of Ava's greeting, instead letting Idunn speak for him. Perhaps the impromtu funeral is still weighing heavily on him, especially given the required travel thereafter? Regardless, the dwarf stands rather relaxed - his hands folded on top of the butt of his axe while the head pressed into the ground - slightly behind Idunn and on her right as she exchanges pleasantries with Ava. He smiles briefly after Bella offers her never-ceasing helpfulness, looking over at the hobbit as a pleased parent might look upon their child, before turning his gaze back to Ava, awaiting the woman's response to Idunn's introduction.

[Vladim]

Still somber after the funeral of his long-lost kin, Borin remains mostly quiet and contemplative on the trip to Stonyford. Even the sight of the festivities once they'd arrive does little to cheer him up. The bull catches his interest, and he has half a mind to offer to help, until the big man shows up. Something about that human just rubbed Borin wrong, so he stays close to his friends instead. When the Lady asks their business, Borin bows deeply; at least he knows how to act around nobility. "My lady, I am Borin, son of Dorin, of the Grey Mountains and Mountain Hall. As my companions have said, we are recently sent from Mountain Hall to strengthen the relationship between the two villages. We are neighbors, after all, but Mountain Hall wishes to become true friends of the Beornings."

[Vladim]

Gramtyng's reaction to the festival was somewhat muted compared to what it would have normally been: even more than the funeral pyre, what weighed on his conscience was what he saw in the depths of the water back there at the ruin, and the terrifying scratch-marks made in stone. Still, now that the celebratory atmosphere was all around him, the bard was finding it difficult to keep him his thoughts on that vision - not that he wanted to, either way. The woman that approached them clearly was not notified that there would soon be a festival. Still, if she asked, he had to answer: "I am Gramtyng, son of Fastred! I came to Mountain Hall from the Mark, and travel together with these fine folk. If you've need of music, I am told my songs and skill with the lute are quite good!"

The woman scowls slightly when Idunn mentions Merovech, but nods: "I understand. I welcome you to Stonyford, emissaries of Hartfast. The Festival of the Moon will begin tomorrow... Until then, feel free to explore our town in the time that remains until night. My useless hus..." At this point her father jabs her with his elbow, causing her to scowl at him, and him to make an innocent face, whistling tunelessly and looking aside. "...Merovech should be over by the inn..." She jabs her thumb behind her: "...Arguing with Guthred." Her mouth twists when she says the name, as if she bit into something bitter. "The Thane will see to your sleeping arrangements." She finishes diplomatically, now very visibly displeased, her gaze moving off from the group and accidentally falling on Uthred, her face instantly transforming into a gleeful grin almost making her nearly unrecognizable from before, kneeling and trying to get the dog's attention, clearly in hopes of petting it.

At this point, all her attention was diverted to the hound, utterly unresponsive to anything. Hartwulf sighed, rubbig his temples with both hands, resting his staff on the bend of his elbow, while Magric's snickering was becoming louder and louder, no longer able to be disguised by coughing. "My apologies for that." The man looked up at each of the companions in turn. "Make sure you find the Thane and inform him he should find you a good place to sleep. That may be enough to get him to stop bickering with Guthred." Hartulf shrugged: "If there's any problems, come back here, and I will help. I ended up organizing most of this anyway..."

"Every... Time." Magric choked out, holding his mouth with both hands. "Serious, serious, serious, then sees a dog and its all 'PUPPY!'."

[Vladim]

Idunn kneels when Ava does the same, focusing her attention on Uthred. The wolfhound, exerted by the journey, quickly warms to the Beorning stranger. He rolls on his back, begging the two women for belly rubs, and occasionally licks their faces in a genuine show of friendship. Exposing his belly reveals the deep scars caused by the Werewolf’s claws: they can clearly be seen, as no fur grows where the wounds had been inflicted.

’Uthred is a wolfhound of Woodmen-town.’ she says to Ava as she pets her trusty companion. ’The Men of Woodmen-town breed the biggest and strongest hounds in Mirkwood, and they always accompany us in our hunts.’ She tries to engage Ava in small-talk, over her hound or any other matter the Beorning woman is interested in. After all, this Ava seems to be her cousin’s wife and, although her and Merovech did not seem to get along, she was, in a way, part of her family now.

[Vladim]

Nori gives Ava and Idunn a little space to chat, not wanting to intrude on the moment of small talk and hinder what little diplomatic relations they have with Stonyford, but not seeming to be in a hurry to leave the immediate area either. His eyes scan the nearby buildings and stalls that are being prepared for the festival, taking in what sights he can see in the quickly vanishing light. He sidles his way up to Gramtyng and without looking up at the man, murmurs in a low voice that can't really be distinguished by the two women nearby, "Perhaps we should let her speak with her cousin about room and board for the night. If she's like the rest, I don't think we're going to have an easy time of it. If all else fails... I'm sure Uthred can get a room somewhere."

[Vladim]

The bard made a sound that normally meant uncertainty - something like a 'hrrmm', crossing his arms and shutting his eyes, then clicking his tongue and looking up at the sky: "Y'know, I'd agree with you; never minded sleeping under the stars, but after this kinda downpour, well... I'm sure they have quality mud here, but I aint a pig yet to roll in it." He grinned at the dwarf, hoping he'd cheer up a bit with his somewhat tactless attempt. "...So I suggest we move on, but let her speak to her cousin. Its one thing if he's like the woman over there, and another if he's like that fellow wrestling the bull over yonder." He pointed at the muscular man who engaged the bull in a staring contest while grasping its horns.

"Son-in-law?" Suddenly interrupted Hartwulf, chuckling. "Oh no, dear me, he's nothing like Gerlod, I assure you. Gerlod, well..." He studied the bull and the man bellowing at it critically, yanking at his beard. "...Well, he's a bit special. As for Merovech, I think we should probably head over there now anyway, this is the longest he's been in a room with Guthred." A flash of dislike passed his face like a shadow, but he smiled, chasing it away.

When Uthred flips over to his back asking for belly rubs, the last vestiges of her grim mask crumble to pieces and she proceeds to devote all her attention to petting the hound and rubbing his belly gently. When she notices the scars, her face becomes a bit more serious, but the annoyed lines that crossed it are gone entirely - she merely looks saddened. "Aye..." She replied softly. "I figured as much. We've had one as well, before - Beorn's arent as large as these, but they're... well, they're almost like his children. Intelligent enough to ever serve at the table, even, and he's talked to them. Ah, not to say Uthred isnt intelligent of course." She added quickly, scratching the hound's ears. "Most of the dogs at the main town where we live are descended from those four of his. We've had one for a while, but he was old when we last went hunting, and wargs... Well, its past." Ava sighs and pats Uthred one last time before standing up and dusting herself off. "When you go to see Merovech, please tell him to keep his composure. I share his sentiment, but he has to maintain himself neutral, as a Thane, even if I think the apple never falls far from the tree..."

[Vladim]

Almarion did as she mostly did in social situations where companions knew the hosts better than she. She simply faded back behind the rest and gazed into the distance. It was as good a way as any to hide her discomfort and her lack of knowledge about these people.

The hound did draw her attention though. She looked at the animal which was indeed a very fine specimen of its kind. Some Dunadan kept such hounds on occasion for help in hunting and tracking as well as warning against anything fel in the area, the hounds senses usually very keen to detect anything that should not be.

Once others had stopped playing with the animal Almarion moved over and petted the animal in turn, though it was more of a recognition of one hunter to another than a petting game.

[Vladim]

Nori snorts at Gramtyng's words, the dwarf conjuring the sight of sleeping in the mud - or the Rohirrim rolling around in it like a pig. Nori then glances over at Gerlod as he manhandles the bull, his ears perking as Hartwulf talks about the young brute and refers to him as 'a bit special'. The faintest grin crosses his lips as the dwarf looks back to Hartwulf, trying to show he finds the statement humorous without it being so funny that it might cause offense. Exchanging a glance between the old man and the Horse-Lord now, Nori suggests to Hartwulf, "Perhaps you could introduce us?" Considering Idunn's preoccupation with Ava, Nori must have thought it might be a bit before she's able to fully engage her cousin and it would be best if the group was settled as soon as possible.

As he waits for a response from Hartwulf and Gramtyng's agreement, Nori's head turns slightly to look upon Almarion. Seeing the reserved ranger petting Uthred, the first display of warmth he had witnessed from the woman, he glances up towards her face with an honest smile. Sure, she may have merely been paying respect to the dog as opposed to simply being affectionate with it, but it was still a display they were probably not going to see again for some time. He says nothing of it though, just letting his eyes linger for a moment or two before turning his attention back to the two men he was addressing.

[Vladim]

Borin stood at the back of the group, watching and listening to the others without comment. Even after several days of traveling together, he still felt like an outsider among them. He'd been so busy trying to get the mine going, he'd not spent much time with them in Mountain Hall either. And now, here he was, attending a Beorning festival with them, representative of a human settlement! Borin had never expected to have an easy or simple life, but this was something else entirely!

However, there was a golden opportunity here: Beorn. The shape-changer had helped turn the tide during the Battle, had retrieved King Thorin's body before he could be finished off, or worse. Beorn's name was still spoken of almost reverently among his people. If he, Borin, could get Beorn's agreement to helping retake the Grey Mountains, it would go a long way to convincing King Dain to send aid himself. But to gain such aid, the dwarf would need to impress the Bear Lord first. So Borin's eyes kept drifting to the bull...

[Vladim]

The Rohirrim grinned, happy that the dwarf cheered up a bit, and began whistling a merry little tune, tapping his foot along with the tune. It intrigued the bard how differently one culture celebrated from another - the River-folk, for example, had decorated with little colored flags, Music pouring from every corner, and the sheer amount of wines, ales, and mead was unheard of. People gambled, laughed, danced, sang... it was all very light-hearted, carefree, and died away just as quickly. The Beorning festival certainly didnt lose in spirit - but it seemed much less frivolous, and filled with intent and meaning, instead of an excuse to get drunk. Everyone had a job, even children helped in their own way, dragging twigs and branches for fires. Things had meaning, purpose. "Well, lets get going then, say whats the festival like?"

Hartwulf nodded at Nori's request: "Nothing simpler. Come along." Leaning on his stave, he began walking over to the inn, with Gramtyng falling in to walk beside him and ask him questions. He will, however, pause to wait for everyone else. "The Festival of the Moon was made by Beorn himself, about a couple years ago, shortly after we all swore to him. Before, it was a much simpler harvest celebration; that changed when the Bear-Lord heard that some of my kinsmen complained about smaller yield on their fields - it was a dry year. The chieftain's fields, however, produced an overabundance of wheat, and when they asked... He produced a silvery sickle, which he called the Sickle of the Full Moon." The old man seemed to grow excited at the mention of the artefact, but immedietly frowned as he continued his story, perhaps indicative of his view on those that provided the reason to create this event.

"A field harvested by means of this tool only took a MONTH to recover, and could then be seeded again. Some Thanes wished that they might have had such a magic tool for their own fields. Beorn, in his wisdom, not wishing to incite jealousy, had promised he would present the Sickle to one subject, who may use it for one year, and return it to Beorn in late Autumn, when he had to harvest his own field. The Thanes consulted each other, and devised a system of Seven Trials, contests which would decide the winner - the Marshall. The Marshall of the previous year then presents the winner of the next year with the Sickle. Some families choose to sponsor outsiders, relying on their more diverse skills instead of those they honed themselves." It seemed like Hartwulf was quite happy to share the relatively young history of the Beornings, even managing to explain this amount of information in the short time it took to walk over to the inn, gesturing to complement the story and smoothing his mustache as he did so.

It did not take long to get to the large, straw-covered building, lit by numerous torches and a large, roughly made chandelier with a large amount of candles. The inn was much quieter than the rest of the village; practically silent if not for the sounds of two children laughing and playing some manner of tag game. The boy was in his late teens, tall and lanky, so that he might have been mistaken to be older and possessed brown hair, which had been an untamed mane sticking out all over the place, with a pair of eyes that looked somewhat mockingly, but with no malicious intent, and a grin from ear to ear: the resemblance to Ava had been uncanny, except for the hair. The girl seemed like she was much more reserved, but currently, that was somewhat hard to tell, as it was her laughter ringing out in the inn. Her hair was bright red, reaching about to her shoulders, flowing freely. She'd had blue eyes, and seemed to be around the same age as the boy.

Across the room from them, in the furthest corner, there was a small table, supported by several barrels, where two men sat. The one furthest from the company had the same kind of hairstyle, if it could be called that, as the boy. The one further had sat half-turned to the other man, and watched the children playing with a strange look on his face, as if he was looking at something that rot long ago. Neither spoke, but the reserved and rigid posture both held spoke volumes on what they'd felt about one another. "You shouldnt be so boisterous, Ragnar." Hartwulf spoke to the boy with a smile, catching him by the scruff of his neck and ruffling his already messy hair: "You need to be a good host to Aestid." The boy struggled, now laughing as well, stugglig helplessly as he was held up from running, and then tagged by the girl: "Grandpa you just made me lose! Doesnt count!" The girl giggled as well, drawing a bit back when the boy flailed, trying to get her back. "Nope! Not against rules!"

The old man straightened up, looking back at the companions. "My grandson, Ragnar. The one with the black hair in the back is Merovech the Mighty, one of Beorn's Thanes. Beside him is Guthred the ...Cunning, Viglund's... Thane, I believe?" The grim man nodded to that. "The girl who's currently celebrating her victory is Aestid, Viglund's daughter."

[Vladim]

"And who is the current Marshall?" Nori asks without seeming to miss a beat. He seems curious to learn a little more about the people he's bound to deal with, and Hartwulf seems like a treasure trove of information when it comes to this town and its festival. However, he doesn't stop and demand an answer, the dwarf instead moving the group along to the inn.

Nori says nothing regarding the children at play near the front of the inn or when Hartwulf grabs his grandson playfully by the neck. In fact, the dwarf of the Lonely Moutain offers a simple smile - the right corner of his mouth creeping up on his face, although hidden mostly by his wild beard. The smile, though, soon settles as Merovech and Guthred are pointed out to them. Noting the posture of the men and their attention on the children, now of which are known as their children, Nori ponders their thoughts on the playful relationship Ragnar and Aestid seem to share.

After a few moments, Nori clears his throat and sets his jaw firm. He then looks to Gramtyng - as if he were his first point of deference - and then to the others. "Right," he says, his mind clearly working through a plan of action. He seems a bit jittery about whatever he's considering. "So... anyone want to break up this cheery group? Or...?" he asks before tilting his head in Guthred and Merovech's direction. His attention seems to shift between Gramtyng and Idunn, perhaps figuring a dwarf introducing them will not go over as well as some of the other options available to them, but still leaving himself as a 'sacrificial lamb' on the table.

[Vladim]

Nori

Neither child seems to be paying too much attention to Merovech or Guthred, so it does not seem to be some manner of trick they are playing on them - they both look very happy, and if anything, are acting younger than their age. They're nearing the end of their teenage years and shouldnt be nearly so friendly - even two kids that dont know each other would be less friendly, much less a Beorning and a Viglunding. Both kids, however, are quite comfortable with each other. If anything, its only the adults making the situation awkward - every time Guthred coughs, you see quite clearly that Aestid somehow makes herself smaller, pausing for a moment to glance back at him.

[Vladim]

Idunn thanks Ava for her advice and folows the rest of the fellowship into the inn. She listens to Hartwulf’s story with some interest, for the traditions of the Beornings are not known to her. When the old man points to Merovech, she looks at his direction, surprised at her inability to recognize her cousin. She was but a child when she last saw him, but Merovech has changed a great deal, and now, so many years later, Idunn feels she knows nothing of the man. He was little more than a stranger, but the ties of kinship were strong, and time cannot sever them.

’Merovech is my cousin.’ Idunn says quietly to Nori. ’I shall speak to him.’ she concludes, approaching her cousin.

She waits for an opportune moment, so that she does not interrupt Merovech and Guthred’s discussion, before speaking. ’Cousin,’ she finally says, ’I and my friends have travelled for days to find you. Do you remember me?’