Unexpected Homecoming

[tomcat]

Another week of riding passed and the companions rode the way in silence or quiet conversation. The fear that lay over the land had abated but the subdued quiet was still there. Animal life could be seen, both wild and domesticated, but the presence of people was light. On occasion, Edrahil would tell of people watching them pass down the road and there were times when even the Men and Dwarf could see silhouettes standing in front of homesteads wondering at their passing.

Only once did they speak with one of the Eriadorans who still farmed his Cardolan fields. News from the man was as sparse as everything else, though what he did say was grim. The sickness still plagued the country and people had isolated themselves from one another. Brigands roamed the realm and there was word that the Orcs of the north had even crossed the river Hoarwell, out of Rhudaur. What was worse was news of a kinstrife in Tharbad and the threat of the Gibbet King. When Fengel inquired more of the Gibbet King, the farmer waved his hands and said he'd speak no more. In the house, his wife cried out talismans to stave off sickness, death, and worse, the walking spirits!

After that, the companions were asked to move on. The farmer and his wife had been kind enough to share food from their fields and even salted pork and sausages. It was not certain, but the two Eriadorans were entranced by the appearance of such noble-looking men and an Elf out of legend. Even to the Dwarf they deferred, for the memories of Durin's folk coming from the mountains to trade with Tharbad and the rest of Cardolan was bright in their minds.

The companions were pleased that they had found kindness still and left with their new fare, but soon the disquiet of the road fell on them again. It was two days later when the Company rode into a small hamlet of no more than ten homes - three of which were nothing but burned out ruins - that the memory of leaving this place hit the hardest. Dirnhael knew that the home of Celephain was but a day further south. He remembered the kind old Dúnadan Lord and his Lady - a beautiful woman who had taken ill with the plague. Dirnhael thought of their son who had ridden into this hamlet, along with  Lûnduf, and his Sindarin friend who sat nearby. Looking at the burnt house, Dirnhael remembered how they had put the torch to the place so as to consume the bodies that lay dead within, all putrefied and all carriers of the sickness. The warrior remembered seeing the bodies of women, children, and men... all were stacked upon the other or laying side by side. Their dignity removed by a vile death.

"Dirnhael," called Fengel. "Someone approaches from the north."

[sdrotar]

"Dirnhael," called Fengel. "Someone approaches from the north."

"We know not what we face in these once-unspoiled lands," Dirnhael said, the painful memories flooding him from his now-ruined homeland almost palpable.
"Let us conceal ourselves until we know more of our fellow traveler... and be ready for anything."

[Stefan]

Nain quietly urged his pony to walk around behind one of the houses where he could see the road but would be unobserved at least till the person was well into the hamlet.  He then loosed his axe so that it would be ready to draw if there was trouble. 

"One of us should greet the Traveler, unless ye want 'im thinkin we're some o' those bandits we 'eard tell of earlier."

[Telcontar]

Celdrahil spured his mount forward, his spear upright in his hand and his shield of green hung by his side from the saddle. "I am a servant to both the king in the south and that of the north. Furthermore I am one of the Elendili and our suzerainty over this lands is still remembered even among the lesser lived farmers and sheep herders. I will not hide along the Kings road."

Celdrahil sat tall in his saddle and awaited the comer from the north.

[GandalfOfBorg]

"I will stand to greet him.  Stay if you like but honey wins more allies than stingers," says Durgil, eyeing the readied weapons.

[tomcat]

Hey, dude, what does seizurenty mean? I like to know that I know what I know, but I don't know this one.  Google didn't know it either, and so I thought I'd inquire.



Celdrahil took position in the center of the road, the standard of his house in Minas Ithil emblazoned on his shield. To his right, Durgil's palfrey began to stamp at the ground, smelling the oncoming scent of the new horse. The remaining companions, though not hidden, stood within the confines of the burnt hamlet watching the road to the north. Fengel drew his bow from his back and nocked an arrow - he was not directly visible to the approaching rider and decided there would be little fear in preparing.

To the north, the rider came. His path had not been directly down the road - in fact, he crossed over it and was now galloping across the fields to their south. Save for Edrahil, they could all see the man's form but the details of his bearing were hidden. The only thing that was easy to tell was the fact that he was riding one of the shaggy ponies that were primarily used by the mountain and hill-folk of the East, in Dunland and Rhudaur.

Edrahil spoke of this, "It appears our new guest is crude in his manner and dress. I believe he is of the mountain people."

At the same moment, coming over the horizon were ten more riders - all atop shaggy ponies.

[Telcontar]

  damn it! I meant to type suzerainty. My fingers were not keeping up with my brain.

[Telcontar]

  so they are or are not heading in our direction?

[tomcat]

It is more like the forward rider is circling your position with the others following on. You could perceive that they are sizing you up.

[GandalfOfBorg]

"It has been awhile since we dealt with these folk but we parted on at least even terms," commented Durgil.

I hope I am remembering correctly that Durgil was with the group when we encountered the Dunlendings.

[tomcat]

You are close, Matt. The Dunlendings that you guys dealt with were in the southern Misty Mountain highlands, just north of Khazad-dum. These particular pony riders are also of the same kin, but from the north out of Rhudaur - they would be called Hill-men.



With the new group of riders now chasing to catch up with the solo outrider, the Companions watch as they continue their wide arc around the small ruined village. All the while, Edrahil could see that they stared in their direction.

"It would seem they are here to observe us, but not close on her position. For whom do they scout, I wonder?"

[Stefan]

Nain, with his typical lack of patience, snorted at the thought of waiting for them to come and attack.  He pulled his axe free and held it in front of himself. 

"Should we go out and say hello?"

[sdrotar]

Nain, with his typical lack of patience, snorted at the thought of waiting for them to come and attack.  He pulled his axe free and held it in front of himself. 

"Should we go out and say hello?"

"Indeed," Dirnhael said. He nodded to Durgil and Celdrahil; both of them less brusque than he tended to be in conversation.

[tomcat]

The companions spurred their horses and the six riders moved out of the small village to meet the eleven riders that now circled them at a distance. Celdrahil's spear was couched in his stirrup, but its bright tip flashed with the midday sun. Fengel's bow was in hand and Nain's axe - save for these, no other weapons were at the ready, though the Men and Elf were as taut as Fengel's bowstring. They had been travelling for days, but their burnished mail still adorned their persons.

Although their group was smaller, the bearing within the Company was evident. Whether it be the Sindar's ancient power, the Dúnedain noble blood, the stoutness of Dwarves, or the cocksure manner of the Éothraim, the hillmen did not turn to meet the companions. One amongst them moved to a position between the Company and the rest of the pony riders, but he did not turn either. His eyes beheld them all and it was very apparent that he was sizing Dirnhael and his friends. The hillman wore a rough spun kilt that was patterned but his upper torso was bare save for the skin of a wolf. There was war paint, or tattoos, adorning his chest and face and to lesser men he would have been fearsome. To the Company he was a stranger and had nothing to fear from them lest they brought trouble, and Dirnhael had no doubt that these riders were a sign of trouble.

The Company increased the speed of their horses only to have the pony riders react and turn away so as to keep the same distance between the two groups. The companions' horses could easily outrun the ponies and so they all looked to one another so as to see if anyone wished to press on these Hillmen.

[Telcontar]

"Tonight they will try and steal our horses now that theyk ow the sizeof our party"

Celdrahil paused and drew forth his silvered horn and pressed it to his lips. The great sound that eminated from the horn was not proptional to its size and the blast echoed and rolled.

As the nore cleared he pulled the reigns of his horse and turned the beast about.

"Let us find a camp where there numbers will be of no advantage to them and ride on. We have warned them."