Year 2948: Putting down roots

[Vladim]

Ingi listening to the conversation about the village constructions, and perhaps with a secret desire to impress Amaleoda and show his worth and knowledge in the more impressive company, spoke up. However his words seem to be lost in the great hall and appear to be unheard, or politely ignored by those around him, leading Ingi for fall into a quiet introspective mood. All the time he find himself playing with the broach, still affixed under his cloak and wondering if the strange lettering upon its boarder could be an elven script.

[Vladim]

Fundor looks at Amaleoda's gaze in return with a smile. "Gold and silver ore ... You might reach the heart of some of my kin friends with those words, for sure ! But I'll disappoint you : Even if some of my kin are at Mountain Hall and helping at the mines, I've never seen the mines myself and cannot tell what is extracted there. But if gold and silver had been found, you wouldn't shout it loud, I believe ... Anyway, what I see here with your works is that your most precious treasure isn't made of gold or silver but of your people moral strenght : You're taking risks at building a village so close to that forest dangers. I wish you to be successfull and to repel all those spiders and other creatures. And if I can help you against the Shadow, I'll brandish my sword with your people."

Fundor also listen at the Elf words and song. The dwarf surprises himself beating the rhythm.

[Vladim]

Fundor had said his part, and Amaleoda nodded in acceptance and gratitude, both for the explanation he had provided, his compliments and his show of support. Yet Hartfast - old, stubborn Hartfast - would be damned if he would let such false rumours simply slide.

’We have no gold or silver in Firienseld! Whoever is spreading such rumours is nothing but a liar and a trouble-maker!’ he said angrily, hitting his fist against the table. ’We have copper, tin and iron – but we never had precious metals, and the Woodmen of the forest should know this well. Spreading such lies will only place us in danger. What will happen if the goblins of the Misty Mountains hear such tales, and believe them? We have enough troubles with them as it is!’

The sudden outburst made the air change, and suddenly everyone was tense. Hartfast’s son, Einar, tried to calm his father, but he would not have it. ’If there is anyone in this village spreading such rumours, then they should be stopped!’

By now, many had noticed Hartfast and had heard of what he spoke. So Hartfast stood up, and explained loudly to all who would hear him: ’There is no gold in Mountain-Hall!’ Turning to Nori, who had helped greatly with the mines, he added: ’Both I and my dwarven comrade can swear it, if it will stop the lies.’

But it seemed that the crowd required no oath; for the words of the chieftain were good enough for them, and after that brief, tense interlude, they slowly returned to their own businesses.

It took a few minutes for conversations around the table to flare up again – Einar was doing his best to dispel the tension, while Wulfred and Grimbold watched on, amused or curious, whilst Hartfast brooded. Though Ingi felt ignored by the company, this was not entirely so: for Amaleoda had heard his words earlier, and though they were not the words of someone who knew much about building fortifications, the sentiment was appreciated. Quietly she spoke to him while Idunn exchanged words with the elf-lady.

’Though you may not realize it, there is much the folk of your town can do to help us.’ she said, smiling to the young man. ’Our village is small, but it too lies on the shores of a lake. We build with timber and fishing is our livelihood, so we need carpenters and boats and boatsmen… So you see that your town and our hall have much in common. Your kin rebuilt Esgaroth when naught but ashes were left. I am certain that they could provide precious guidance to us, should they be generous enough to offer their counsel.’

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Gloriel sang, the entire room turned to listen to her voice and her gentle music, as if captured by some elven-spell, of which the old tales spoke. Guests and villagers alike sat quietly, impressed by the performance, which lifted the heavy cloud that had been hanging over the room after Hartfast had spoken. Yet Idunn seemed less awed; the mention of the werewolf had ruined what good mood the meal had brought, and no song, however beautiful, could lift her spirit now. Like Hartfast, she brooded.

’You sing well, though you speak in riddles.’ said the huntress. ’But neither words nor music are of much use against the werewolf. Besides,’ she continued, ’one does not hunt the werewolf alone. I seek to speak at the folk-moot and gather a group of Woodsmen to hunt the beast. But if others wish to come, so be it. I will not turn them down.’

She cast a brief glance at the dozen or so elves that accompanied Gloriel, before following up with a question. ’And what of your kin? Do they also seek the great wolf?’

[OOC: At this stage, I was going to introduce the leaders of the elven party, prince Gilbranon and lady Glidril, to everyone else, and have them travel together with the fellowship to Rhosgobel on the next day. But, unless you guys really want to role-play this, let’s just hand-wave it, assuming it goes smoothly, and fast-forward to the next, more interesting part: the arrival in Rhosgobel.

Feel free to post something about your character, if you want, and also please give me a Travel check (TN 14) for the journey to Rhosgobel.]

[Vladim]

"Miserable, small, and toadlike..." Muttered the bard to himself. "That does remind me of something I saw two years ago, in northern Mirkwood, while we were crossing the river... Nah, probably not it." He shook his head, chasing away the unpleasant imagery of the slimy thing he'd spotted back then. The song that Gloriel plays makes him smile, and for a moment he reaches for his own lute, but then pretends he merely wanted to fix his sword's sheathe at his belt. His face darkens when the werewolf is mentioned, but he lets Idunn speak first, before adding: "I think that the beast is too used to usual hunting methods... it must be hunted in a way it hadn't seen before - perhaps that will earn us its head. How do the elves hunt?"

[Vladim]

Nori remained sour through the remainder of their trip to the Black Tarn, but his mood improved significantly when they were finally seated and fed a proper meal. The dwarf ate with some veracity, as if famished, but anyone that had been watching him could tell that the burden he carried on his shoulders had eased somewhat.

When Fundor pressed the subject of his displeasure, between bites and gulps, Nori would divulge a little. “Rotten water creatures,” he was heard to mention as his eyes focused on his plate. “Tricking us into their dirty work.” His pronunciation was off a bit with a full mouth, but Fundor didn’t have any difficulty understanding him. Listening to him between all the slurping and lip smacking may have been a bit unpleasant though. “I told them it wasn’t a good idea to follow her.” The dwarf seems to be getting over what he considers a slight against him and the fellowship, but the subject still appears tender.

----------

Nori does not seem as impressed with the arrival of the elves as the Woodsmen are. He glances up at them as they are show their table, the dwarf pouring a thick gravy over a large portion of his plate. Setting the mug down on the table, he snorts – scoffing at their presence, before looking down at his food and tearing into it with his fingers.

----------

Hartfast’s outburst raises Nori’s eyes from his meal and his implication of the dwarf’s work at Mountain Hall causes Nori to give a firm, but silent nod in acknowledgement and agreement of Hartfast’s assessment. Nori casts a stern glare towards Amaleoda to confirm the chieftain’s assertion before taking a slow bite out of a piece of bread and chewing on it thoughtfully. He was a dwarf that did not appear to enjoy such riches, so there was little evidence to refute Hartfast’s claims – at least on the surface.

[Vladim]

Gloriel turns to the bard, for so she presumes he is after noticing his impulse to join her song. "We do not hunt the forest dwellers overly, save for our special festivities such as the equal day-night, or when the king's favoured beasts are threatened. But when we do some wait in stealthy trap while others drive with hounds and horn...might that deceive the wolf?"

"Now riddle me this, for I see you might be a poet, and understand more than some."

"My branches never grow leaves
In dappled light I flee when fright
Mouse timid, swiftness gifted
Ever dotted, seldom spotted."

[Vladim]

Side-thread

If you wish to role-play the events that transpire at the Black Tarn, feel free to do so. I have opened up a side-thread here (click) to allow you to do so.

In any case, the fellowship departs with Hartfast and the rest of his emissaries on the morning of the next day, accompanied by the party of prince Gibrannon and the elves. This last leg of the journeys lasts two days, and is uneventful.

 

OOC

This is the end of Chapter 1. Because it was a long chapter, I’ll refresh the Fellowship pool; this means everyone except Gramtyng and Gloriel get 1 point of Hope back. Gramtyng has already spent his, and Gloriel did not participate for most of Chapter 1. I’ll also readjust the fellowship stats accordingly.

 

Chapter 2: The tent town in Rhosgobel

Rhosgobel lay not far from Black Tarn Hall – merely a few miles to the west, yet the paths that connected the two villages were narrow and winding. All around them, the forest, however thinned, was still Mirkwood – less dark than what lay beyond the river, but still a maze of trees, and dangerous for inexperienced travellers, for one could easily become lost. But Amaleoda’s folk had cut ways through the trees, and although these were still incomplete, the shield-maiden herself had provided detailed instructions on how to reach the Brown Wizard’s sanctuary.

On the morning of the second day, the companions saw trees give way to the plain, and lay their eyes upon the Brown Hey, the hedge that surrounded the small village. Smoke rose from the chimneys of the houses inside, but also from many fires that burned outside the hedge. For the companions were neither the only nor the first travellers to arrive in Radagast’s home: many tents stood outside, of many colours and flying many banners, and the tent-town that had formed, in a disordered, utterly unplanned way, rivalled the village in size.

As the companions approached, there was great noise from the conversations and declarations of the folk who had gathered. Most were in the common tongue, but as they made their way through the tent-town, their ears could catch many foreign words: Dalish mainly, as Nori and Ingi could plainly tell. The banners marked the lands from which all these emissaries had travelled to: in the distance, the banner of Erebor flew, depicting the Lonely Mountain; nor far from it was the bow and arrow of Dale. Yet there were others as well: a white horse on a black banner, that Gramtyng alone recognized for what it was, and another, depicting the sun and its rays, which none had seen before.

 

OOC

For this next chapter, I wanted to give your PCs the opportunity to pursue their own interests and side-quests for a bit, before moving on with the main plot. Therefore, this next chapter is a little loose in structure, but it can basically last for as little or as long as you want it to.

Here is a list of things that can be done, grouped according to each PC. At this stage, we can split the party, but only to the extent that you want to. As most PCs are friends by now, it is also possible for one character to accompany another, as (s)he pursues a character – specific scene. Therefore, please list up three scenes that you are most interested in, in order of decreasing priority, and I’ll determine what will get to be played out (I may summarize the rest or just rule that you don’t have time to do everything). You can do this either here or in the OOC thread (if your post is purely OOC I have a preference for the OOC thread).

Nori and Fundor: The main options for the dwarves of the party are to (a) Interact with Bofri, son of Bofur, who seeks to reopen the old forest road; (b) Seek out Hakon the wild, who found Nori’s hammer and (c) Interact with Borin, who seeks to retake the Greydelve.

Gramtyng: There is only one main thing from Gramtyng here, and that is to seek out his countrymen that have travelled here.

Ingi: The main thing for Ingi here is to reunite with his brother and the other emissaries from Esgaroth / Dale, and, if he so desires, engage in some politics with them.

Gloriel: Although I did not plan much for Gloriel, one obvious possibility is interacting with Gibrannon and / or Glidril. We should probably find a decent reason why they would encourage her to join the rest of the fellowship, so we can role-play that a bit, if you want.

Everyone: The following options are available to everyone: (a) Visit the market-place; (b) Visit the wizard Radagast (sort of – this will anyway happen later but you will meet other interesting NPCs if you try finding Radagast; (c) Join the preliminaries of a contest (there’s wood-chopping which relies on axe, and an archery contest, both at TN 16, and feel free to propose another skill / contest if you want, though some may not be applicable (for example, the song contest is not on until much later).

Of course, you can always suggest your own ideas. Idunn will follow Gramtyng, as he is her fellowship focus.

[Vladim]

At last they arrive at Rhosgobel, it has been a long, very long travel in unusual landscape for dwarves. When he see the Woodmen city and all the tents and banners, Fundor feels better as soon he should be able to have a good rest at some tavern.
After they have all laid down their packages, Fundor goes back to the Erebor banner and quickly find a dwarf to talk with. He appears to be called Bofri, son of Bofur, and they talked about the opportunity to reopen the old forest road. There, Fundor tells Bofri about the beast hunting in the forest.

[Vladim]

Gramtyng nodded as the elf offered the information and grinned as she attached a riddle to it: "Not too good at em... Nori's better." He nodded at the dwarf. "But I can try it. Branches without leaves, eh? Easiest guess would be a pine tree, but its rarely that easy. Too direct... Not poetic, as you said. In dappled light it flees when frightened... My thought before was a ray of sunlight, and does work with 'Mouse timid, swiftness gifted ever dotted, seldom spotted'." He rubbed at his beard, considering the line again: "A shadow works too - you know, retreating when sunlight is around? But a shadow isnt timid or 'swiftness gifted', and its pretty easy to spot. An elf making riddles about a shadow's pretty rare, too. In the end... I'm not really sure." He smiled at Gloriel and added: "Let me think about it some more? Mind's been wanderin'."

----------------------At Rhosgobel----------------------

Rhosgobel, from the bard's perspective, looked very welcoming and cozy: the hedge that surrounded it, the smell of fresh smoke, the laughter of the people... But the amount of tents, he decided, was somewhere between a carnival and a warcamp. He looked to see how Belgo reacted, but the boy seemed to be fine, curious in the banners, frowning as he tried to puzzle something out and mouthing some words. The bard followed his gaze and froze: among the bow-and-arrow of Dale, and the mountain banner of Erebor, there was an odd one with a sun and rays he'd never seen before, but most shocking of all was his own people's banner, the white horse on a black background. What were they doing her...? Has the mad king died? He didnt head the questions Belgo was asking, instead letting his feet carry him towards the banner. Where were they? "Why now? Why here?" He muttered, suddenly hoarse.

[Vladim]

Gloriel wanders about, admiring the colourful tents, and listening to the hubbub around the town. She pays special attention to anyone speaking about the brown wizard, or about the old elven capital Amon Lanc, now referred to by men as Dol Guldur.

She sees Ingi trying his hand with arrow and bow. "Ah, a fellow archer, is that a yew bow you have? Let me see if I can match it with my shorter forest bow." She fires off a well-aimed shot. "Well, I think we will meet again in this contest...may your shoulder be firm and your eye unwavering."

True arrows fly from steady eye
Strong pull yields a bull

[Vladim]

A crowd of Woodmen had gathered around the contestants, of whom there were many, cheering them on as they attempted to hit the target: a black raven cut out of wood, set several dozens of paces away from the archers. As Ingi and Gloriel approached, they were greeted by Evoric, who was also there, and wished to test his hand at the contest. Behind the line of contestants, some of the folk of Rhosgobel were gambling, placing small stakes on this archer or that, and joking amongst themselves as some lost and others won.

As Ingi and Gloriel waited for their turn, the crowd fell silent: an outlander stepped forth, though Ingi knew him, for he was Sigward of Dale, who commanded the city’s royal archers, and had come with Ingi’s brother to Rhosgobel specifically for this festival. It appeared that his reputation preceded him, for many referred to him only by his byname: the marksman they called him, and many placed bets on him, though Sigward did not seem to wish to participate.

After the initial commotion, the competing Woodmen redoubled their efforts: some wished to show to the man from Dale that the Woodmen, too, produced good marksmen, though others perhaps sought to impress the nobleman, so that he would enlist them in his company of archers after the festival – or so they hoped.

All the while, Sigward’s eyes were set on Ingi. The lake-man knew well of the famous rivalry between his own guild of bowmen in Lake-town and the royal archers of Dale, and how the best archers from these two cities would gather in Dale every year and test themselves in a fierce contest.

When Ingi’s arrow struck the target, the crowd cheered: the arrow had struck the raven’s eye, a shot that many had attempted, but none had managed on that day. Many clapped and were amazed at the lake-man’s skill, and his performance at the contest finally moved Sigward from quiet observation into action.

’Beginner’s luck!’ he said with a smile, not to taunt Ingi, but perhaps to tease him, as he moved forth and begun to string his bow and chose from his arrows. The crowd cheered as he entered the contest, and though his arrow did not find the eye, it did strike its target, promoting him to the next round of the contest. Now it was the Woodmen’s turn to tease the marksman, and many jumped on the opportunity, though he took it all in stride and with good humour.

Next were Evoric and Gloriel, and though the pair did not perform as well as Ingi, they too secured the much-sought promotion to the next round, which would be held several days from now, on the day of the great celebrations. Thus, by the end of the day, only a handful of contestants were chosen: a few Woodmen from the lands by the Dusky River, that included Evoric, as well as Gloriel, Ingi and Sigward.

--------------Shortly after the contest--------------

After the crowds had started to disperse, and Sigward had congratulated both Gloriel and Ingi for their successes, a yellow-haired stranger approached the two and introduced himself as Ceawin. He told them he was from the Sunstead, a great house beyond the forest, and invited them both to join him at his tent, for he had much food and drink, and wished to reward the winners for their success. In fact, he said, his house had no men to enter the contest, for it was a new house, but he wished not to be left out, and thus he wanted to sponsor some, and promised a generous reward. He pointed to the distance: there, the banner of his house, that depicted the sun, waved in the air.

[Vladim]

As Gramtyng approached the tent that stood under the banner of Rohan, he saw other signs of his people. Two fine horses stood under the banner, tied to a nearby tree. One was black, and bigger and stronger than Leasere, while the other one was greyish and smaller. The pair seemed fit for a knight and his squire, yet Gramtyng could see neither of them around, and thus he approached the tent, accompanied by Idunn and Belgo.

But it did not take long before he finally heard them, arguing inside the tent. They spoke in the tongue of Rohan, which none but Gramtyng could understand, yet that was not the only thing that was strange to Idunn and Belgo. For when one of them spoke, in a hoarse and loud voice, he almost shouted, berating his squire about this trivial matter or that, making sure that he had tended to the horses properly, or always finding some blemish, now on his armour, now on his sword, and now on his helm, and blaming his squire for it. And though Gramtyng could understand what was said, the others did not, and thought that a great argument was going on, one that would surely escalate into violence if not interrupted. Idunn looked at her companion questioningly, wondering if they should interfere.
 

But it would prove unnecessary, for at length the knight noticed that there were men gathered outside his tent, and with a barked order he commanded his squire to follow him as he investigated.

And thus it came to be that Gramtyng would see here, so far from the golden hall of Edoras, Heruthain, son of Fulgrim. Gramtyng remembered him well, for the knight was of great renown in Rohan: he was one of Fengel-king’s guards, the oldest one, who served as a teacher and trainer for the younger men of that chosen group. By his side stood a young man, fair of hair and slim, and not much older than Gramtyng. Gramtyng recognized him as Erkenbrand, son of Herubrand, the child of a noble from the Westfold.

It seemed that the knight also remembered Gramtyng, for he had witnessed his singing in the golden hall, many years ago, and had been present when the bard was banished by the king. Indeed, the knight’s words showed neither surprise not gladness to see Gram in Rhosgobel.

’What are you doing here, son of Fastred?’ he simply barked in the tongue of Rohan. Idunn, at the sight of the gruff old man, placed her hand on her dagger, not understanding the words that were spoken, and fearing that a fight would soon break. In response, Erkenbrand, the knight’s squire, did the same, though none dared draw to blades yet.

’Tell your woman to stand down.’ commanded Heruthain, speaking to Gram.

[Vladim]

Fundor found Bofri in good spirits, surrounded by his kinsmen Regin and Dwalin. Their camp was next to that of the Men of Dale and Esgaroth, though lord Ewald was absent currently. Together, the travellers had set up a small marketplace, where they sold goods from Erebor and Dale, such as toys from the famous market of Dale, tools from the kingdom under the Lonely Mountain and fine clothes and jewellery from Esgaroth, all at reasonable prices. It was an attempt to show some goodwill towards the Woodmen who, frugal as they were, were rarely exposed to such luxuries from the North.

For his part, Bofri was happy to share his plans and hopes about reopening the old forest road with a fellow dwarf, and urged Fundor to speak to Hartfast on the matter. For the old forest road cut through Mirkwood and crossed the Anduin at the Old Ford, and surely Hartfast’s hold in the Misty Mountains would benefit greatly from the restoration of the road. Bofri knew that Fundor had earned old Hartfast’s trust, and thus he practically begged his fellow dwarf to convince the chieftain to see the merits of his proposal.

When Fundor spoke of the werewolf, Bofri’s face quickly turned grave and grim. Both he and his companions had heard some rumours of attacks, and it was clear that he had feared this, for it would interfere with his plans. Indeed, he had learnt from the Woodmen that many evil and dangerous creatures lived in the forest, and they would need to be driven back before the restoration could even be considered. He had spoken to this to king Dain, he said, and the king had agreed to lend Bofri more able-bodied dwarves for the task in the future, should the need arise, but none of his kinsmen knew anything about the forest. Thus, for now he only sought to scout the forest, and see in what state the ruins of the road remained, before the next step could be decided.

[OOC: Basically, Bofri wishes to have Fundor serve as a go-between between himself and Hartfast. Fundor can choose whether he wants to agree to this proposal or not.]

[Vladim]

Nori joined his cousin in meeting with Bofri and listened intently to the dwarf's plan to re-open the forest road, albeit with arms crossed and a stern look on his face. When all is said and done, the rust-haired dwarf appears to take a conservative approach to the request. He doesn't appear dismissive of the idea and in fact agrees to take it to Hartfast, but the prospects of a successful reopening of the road with the werewolf still out there are clearly grim in his mind.

"Perhaps with Dain's contributions and some from the Woodsmen, we will have enough to track down and trap the beast," Nori says with a mixture of skepticism and openness to the idea. "The beast has proven itself quite elusive and definitely dangerous. The road has no hope until he is dealt with. But I'm certain, if he's hunted down and skinned for all to see, the road will be just one benefit to the people in this area." The dwarf then takes a quick glance in the distance, to the area he last saw Idunn, as if dwelling on the Woodswoman for a moment before returning his attention to Bofri.

[Vladim]

Gloriel glances at Ingi, congatulating him with a smile. "Well shot, 'twill be hard to better, even at such this short distance which favours my skills developed within the forest confines. I hope the target is similarly placed for the final, I'll be ready for your best then. May I see one of your arrows?" She admires the arrow proffered by Ingi, holding it at arms length to verify it's true nature, and spinning it gently to gauge the quality of the fletching. "Ah, I see, you favour four vanes rather than the usual three, perhaps that is the secret of such accuracy." She hands back the arrow with respect. "And it seems the lord from Dale also wishes to vie with you, and not just for this contest either, eh?"

She then turns to Caewin. "You wish someone to shoot for you in the archery contest...or are you after some other prize as well? Let me feast on your foodstuffs... coming from the East you must surely have a cask or two of that fine Dorwinion wine? Then I'll sing you melody and perplex you a puzzle or two." As she walks with Caewin towards the sun pennant, she keeps her eyes and ears alert for any sign that Radagast is present at this gathering.