The New Day

[tomcat]

Celdrahil and Fengel rode keeping pace with the footmen led by Guilin, and both men had the gnawing desire to spur on their mounts. They were keeping a close distance between the Wild Men, but the enemy seemed to run as if all the shadow's of the world gave chase. It was commented on of the vigour of the mountain-folk and so, too, was now being proven.

They had passed through the town and now left it behind, the river being their only compass in the darkness to take them north. The Free Folk of Tharbad had outnumbered their attackers back at the bastion, at the battles conclusion, but the force Guilin had led forth was but a fraction. What was worse, now that they had left the area of the town, the river was more dangerous in the dark with bogs and quicksands hidden causing everyone to move with care.

The captain of Tharbad spoke of two more towns that would be along their path - one abandoned, and the other still inhabited with traders and huntsmen. The allegiance of said folk was questionable and so Guilin wished to have his quarry engaged before that town was reached.

Celdrahil cursed as his horse staggered into a low lying fen, a cloud of flies taking to the air around him. Fengel pulled back on his own reins to keep his horse from following into the mire. The Knight of Gondor carefully led his horse back out, while the Éothraim searched for a path around. Other quiet curses filled the night air as the archers also splashed into the chilly water - one man crying out as he was sucked deep into the mud.

"We risk much in this chase," said Fengel to Celdrahil. "Would it better suit our resources to draw back and wait for the safety of daylight?"

To the north, the Wild Men spotted their destination - a mound rose along the riverside out of the bogs. It was high and defensible. Okar knew that they were being pursued and he would soon stand and give challenge. If they could just make it.

What no one knew, was that the chase was being watched from across the river. A malign presence bent its will towards those that retreated and those that pursued. To Okar and his folk, a fear filled their hearts as if something wrathful waited for them - for Celdrahil and those that accompanied him, it came upon them as if a wave of pure terror.



  I need Celdrahil and Fengel to give me Willpower test TN 22

Fengel
TN 22 Willpower v intimidation +2

2d6+2 : 4, 4 + 2, total 10

[tomcat]

Dirnhael and Durgil rode silently beside the bier that bore their friend. Knowing no where else to go, they headed north up the road that they had come to the small inn where they had rented rooms. With the battle won, the folk of the small dilapidated river town began to come forth to see to their fallen and wounded. Many women-folk were there and some were healers of renown within their own and Dirnhael made a nurse promise to see to his friend. At first she was afraid for Edrahil was not of her kind and she had never seen, let alone, laid hands upon one of the Eldar. Still, she promised to bring herself and a few of her sisters to the inn forthwith once she had collected some items she would need.

What the two nobles needed to decide was what to do with the new day. They had ridden south at Gandalf's behest - a new fear had risen in Dirnhael's homeland and would threaten the North. So far what they had seen was definitely a threat - sickness still reigned here; the city of Tharbad was now broken into conclaves of petty lords; and an evil out of the East had taken up position on the eastern side of the Gwathló. With it had come men from the mountains who had no love for Elves, or the Dúnedain.

The sun would be rising in but a few hours. Neither man had had sleep since the day before and because of the combat, it was now weighing upon them.

They entered the Tinkerman's Inn - a group of the townsfolk still following, who all jumped to the aid of moving Edrahil to his room and bed. The people saw within the two Dúnedain a nobility that made them believe that these men had answers, and so they waited upon them and for them to declare what should be done. Even the innkeep looked on with a trusting eye to these strangers who had only come to his place a few hours past.

While food was being prepared and new kegs tapped, the healers came and were shown to where Edrahil lay. The elder woman began to wash his wounds and appraise them as she sang spellsong in an ancient tongue. Her sisters tore cloth to make bandages and crushed herbs and medicines with mortar and pestle. It was her singing that brought Edrahil from his unconscious state. Little did the simple woman know but she sang in the tongue of the Sindar - an ancient spellsong of healing. Hearing the words and knowing the arcane weave, Edrahil faintly chanted it himself as they tended to his wounds.

[Telcontar]

TN 22 Willpower

Rolled 2d6+1 : 2, 4 + 1, total 7

Celdarhil worked to free his horse from the mire and spoke to Fengel.

"Yes, let us not be too fool hardy. I had hoped to catch them long before this. Guilin, we must not in our haste and thirst for vengeance be lured into a trap. Fighting in this muck will give them the advantage we had on the river bank."

[GandalfOfBorg]

Durgil smiled at the healer as he heard her song and knew Edrahil was in good hands.  Gathering what reserves he had left, he took himself to the common room.  "Innkeep, thank you for the food and drink, but I have a favor to ask: if I fall asleep at the board, pray give me a swift kick when the day breaks. I have business in town as early as may me."  Even with the hustle and bustle, the comings and goings, Durgil was prophetic in his words and drowsily slumps against the wall after a few bites and sips.

[Stefan]

Nain sat by his friend and watched as the healer sang her songs.  He flashed back to the death of his brother so many years ago as he stared at the limp form in front of him.  He should have been there to stop them, the creatures that had attacked, he should have saved him.  He blotted some dampness away from his eye and vowed silently to stay with the elf till he was awake again.

[tomcat]

While the companions at the Inn began to settle into some sleep, Celdrahil and Fengel finally returned to firmer ground as a small series of hillocks rose from the west and met up with the river.

The company of archers and soldiers that Guilin had led now stood out of bow range from one of the hills that seemed to rise from the waters that flowed south. Where the hills met the Gwathló, a sheer drop fell to the water and a torrent raged. The area was called Bare Tor Rapids due to the rocky hills that had been cut by the river. Atop the hill, the Wild Men ringed the peak to defend against an attack from any direction. Celdrahil and Fengel still sat on their horses and peered at the defense - it would be a slaughter for these folk to try. Only a few were armored for such an attack and they were the true soldiers here - the rest were just farmers, or craftsmen who knew how to wield a weapon. Celdrahil knew that at some time they might have filled the ranks of footmen of a Tharbad host, but too many days had passed since then.

The persistent fear that seemed to follow them north along the river was now faded with the light of morning. It had made the quagmires and fens terrifying, creating a dwimmerlaik in every shadow, a troll in every hump of earth, and a willow wisp o'er every pool. The net effect was to slow their passage and allow the Wild Men to gain a greater distance between. Now, ravens circled above the hill - crebain out of Dunland. The Knight of Gondor knew that the winged spies were messengers both to and from their enemy - though who they were sending word to was a mystery, for no one was seen on the other side of the river. Fengel looked around and saw that Guilin's troop was sixty strong plus a hand and they outnumbered the Wild Men by two, but Okar had his three remaining berserker warriors at the ready and he knew they alone could handle two hands worth each of their folk.

"The fens were a boon for our Enemy, Celdrahil, but now, even with the sun, we can do little more than sit and hold these villains in place. Do you think we should push on the hill? Will these folk we lead be able to handle an uphill attack?"

[Telcontar]

Celdarhil dismounted as a token of respect for Guilin as he waved him over so they could speak as equals. 
"Sir, these are your folk and this is your struggle. We have come a good ways, our hope was to overcome them in flight however, now they are fortified and ready for us. My advice is that we are not prepared for a deliberate attack, nor a long siege. They know enough now that we mean business and do not fear them to come so far, but perhaps now the best plan would be to return with all the hands that we departed with."

Celdrahil studied the men around him and the countryside as he spoke to the leader of the men of Tharbad. His eye took in every detail, to make decisions quickly, but also to think about and analyze later.

[tomcat]

Guilin listened to Celdrahil and then stood staring at the hills.

"I would not have any more of my people slain this day. Though it angers me to leave our foe perched atop a hill within our grasp, I see the futility of trying to bring them down." His face grew pensive, "I fear though, that they will come upon us again. The desires of the Gibbet King will bring them down on us once more and it will be we who scramble to find a ready defense."

The archer then looked at the two knights before him and he asked, "You and your companions have come out of the North, why? It is obvious you are Lords of some nobility and High-men, to be sure. I do not know what graces sent you, but I look to you now and ask, will you not take up the order of these people to command them and set things to right? I am a simple hunter. An archer who has gained acclaim by no more than the heads that I mount within our beer hall. We need soldiers. We need Lords, such as you, to settle the affairs of these invaders. Will you do this for us?"

It was as if the others within ear shot of Guilin's words heard and Celdrahil and Fengel looked to see a group of folk around them all now looking with the same questioning eyes.

[Telcontar]

Celdarhil looked at the assembled faces around him. He detected the traces of the once mighty folk of Arnor in them, kin to his people in the south. His mind wandered to his home and kin far away, so much further away then the distance alone. Many thoughts swirled through the mind of the knight in this instant, and he was slow to answer. There was conviction in his words however.

"An errand brought us south... It is true that my folk once were the chieftains of this land, but I will not claim the right of lordship on that merit alone."

The knight paused and looked to the hill again, then back at Guilin and the assembled men. The sudden image of Fingolfin ridding forth to challenge the Nameless Enemy sprung into his head. In his minds eye he saw the drawing of his sword like a fire in the summer grass. A quick burst of speed and he could challenge his foe to personal combat to redress his crimes. A cooler temper prevailed and the lesson of the tale returned to the knight. Patience and stewardship were more important than brave, but rash deeds.

"I will, saving the obligation to my own oaths and kin say this, I will draw my sword in your aid. The Gibbet King neither will be your lord or lay claim here against the will of your folk if I can stop him. This war will not be won today. Let is return and take stock of the nights events and the council of those chief among you and prepare a longer lasting blow."

Turning his horse from the hill the Gondorian led his horse back towards Tharbad to better speak with the men and grow acquainted with their circumstances.

[tomcat]

The host out of Tharbad began their march home to the jeers of the Wild Men on the hilltop, but none took the bait. No one looked back and no response was made to the calls and laughter that echoed down the hill. It was not that they were not angry - the townsfolk had lost many of their elders and children in the previous night's engagement, but there was no reason to lose more.

The trip back would be longer, as Guilin decided to go around the fens that were along the length of the western bank of the Gwathló where it met the Glanduin. In the summer sun, the flies would be unbearable and the leeches would be more active. As it was, many of his men and the two knights' horses suffered from a few of the parasites after their charge through the quagmires. They would need to wait until they were home where salt would be readily available to remove the vermin.

Fengel and Celdrahil led the procession, along with Guilin, and the man of Gondor spoke to many of the men around him. He learned that the small town just outside of Tharbad was called Fennin Dorath and it had once been a merchant town. The many travelers and craftsmen that came to Tharbad to peddle their wares would camp along the northern and southern banks of the river to stave off the high taxation and rental costs of the city. Over the many years of its settlement, the tent towns took on more stable a presence and permanent structures rose to take the place of tents and pavilions. The travelers also became more permanent and a population of shipwrights, fishermen, and other craftsmen - albeit poorer than their big city neighbors - settled the town. Four other towns just like it established themselves on either side of the river junction and enjoyed the boon of the Tharbad's prosperity.

Unfortunately, over time with the breaking of Arnor into the three realms, and then the fall of Cardolan, the towns began to decay and die as the populations were drawn up in levees, taken or slain by marauding forces out of the east, or just migrated away due to the disappearance of mercantile trade. When the Witch-king finally broke the Tower of Amon Sûl and the last prince of Cardolan was slain, the Dúnedain fled to the Tyrn Gorthad and the Old Forest. Tharbad and Lond Daer survived this flight, although the two cities were greatly impacted. During the last two-hundred years, the folk returned and they tried to rebuild, but then the sickness came. Now towns are empty; Tharbad keeps its own and is very wary of travelers. It is a sad time.

Celdrahil listened with great interest though much of this lore was known to him. What would have been a great nation on its own - Cardolan - with its many resources and waterways; its position on the road between north and south; its greatest strength the Dúnedain of the North. It saddened him. It all fell to inner strife, greed and an inexorable Shadow out of the North. It made Celdrahil wonder about his own home and the shining towers of Minas Ithil. Sauron the Great was gone now - gone since the last Great Alliance destroyed him, but still they watched over his lands for fear of his return. Could he return? Could the mighty Gondor follow in the path of this once great country?

His thoughts were brought back to the present as the town of Fennin Dorath could now be seen on the horizon. Smoke rose from a few chimneys and possibly other sources due to the last night's invasion. The two companions needed to get back to their friends. They needed to find out what had become of Edrahil and to see what was the course of action to be taken. They did not linger long with Guilin, though they promised that they would see him again soon, and made their way back to the inn.

It was mid of afternoon when the two men entered Tinkerman's. Sitting at a table, a froth of beer on his beard and his feet up and unshod was Nain.

[Stefan]

"Welcome back, how'd the foray go, ye' look well enough."

[tomcat]

Fengel gave a wan smile, "We left them atop a hill. There was a great marsh that lay in our path and once through, the Wild Men had taken position at the crest of a series of hills. It would have been a massacre for us to attempt to engage them. How fares Edrahil?"

Nain could see the weariness on both the men's faces, though pride did not allow them to admit it.

[Stefan]

The grime of the fighting cracked on Nain's face as he broke into a broad grin.

"He's doing well.  The healers here know the elf songs, that alone seems te' bolster him.  I think he was even singin' along at one point."

He put his feet down on the floor and his mug on the table with a fairly loud thump.

"He looks a darned sight better then the two of you.  Ye'd better get upstairs and get some rest afore those women find you and start worrying o'er ye like they have been him."

[GandalfOfBorg]

As dutifully instructed, Durgil found himself reeling off the stool he was so precariously perched and the innkeep standing over him.  "Well, punctual, prompt, and as instructed," he chuckled.  "Thank you.  I'm off to see my wash basin... if it is no trouble, could I please have a crock of hot water sent to my room?"

Cleaning off the previous night and rebandaging the wounds sustained, Durgil dressed in the finest he brought with.  Afixing Silivren to his side, the young Dunadan noble was finally prepared to chat with the powers that be in this place.

[Telcontar]

Celdrahil smiled at the dwarf as he spoke. "Yes it was a long night, but not yet done and more to do."

The knight scrapped the mud and muck off of his boots at the doorway as best he could and then entered into the inn. He paused only long enough to wash his face and hands, a few quick passes of a stiff brush over his clothes to break off the dried mud and filth, and then a mouth full of bread and whatever was near at hand to put on it.

"I'm headed back to the battle sight. I need to check on the wounded, count the survivors, and see what information can be gleaned from the dead before they are all burned."

The knight ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm afraid there is more to do before I can take the pleasures of the beds of this house. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Somewhat refreshed by the hasty clean up and removing the filth of the battle and the chase the Ithilien made his way back to towards the site of the battle. Now that it was light he needed to see the defenses of the place, and glean what information his foes would reveal to him. He already had the beginnings of an idea on how to use the rafts...