To find Ruithel

[tomcat]

The farmers slashed at the air where once the large wargs had stood, but the animals dodged and loped past the attacks. The companions, too, attempted to bring down the animals but they had created a greater distance which now required pursuit. The forest loomed to the east, not far away, yet close enough for the pursuit to become dangerous. Bandy fired a parting shot at the trailing warg and then they were gone behind the curve of the hills.

Grimbeorn panted while leaning on the haft of his axe and holding his hip where the flesh had been rent open. Beside him, Esgalwen returned to the ground and applied a bandage to her leg where her own blood flowed. The farmer named Argil looked at them and then to the others that were now present - a Dwarf and a child? But the little one seemed more mature and capable than his stature allowed. Perhaps this was one of the little folk that legend spoke of who lived along the shores of the southern Anduin?

He came to a conclusion, though his axe remained firmly in his grip. "Come, you will need the help of my wife. She knows the songs of staunching and can boil wine so as the poisons of the bite will not kill you later."

"But father?"

"Mind me, lad. These folk are hurt and have aided us in staving off a worse situation. The least we can do is feed them and see to their wounds. Run ahead now and tell your mother to put wine to boil." The younger man nodded with urgency and then turned and ran towards the farm. "My woman is good with poultices and healing. She stitches, too, with as little pain that I've ever felt." He pointed to Arbogast, Rorin and Bandy, "Come...help your friends."

With no other word, the Viglunding farmer led his people back in the direction his son had just raced. One farmer stayed to aid the Fire-watcher with Grimbeorn, and Rorin and Bandy assisted Esgalwen.

The companions soon found themselves in a large home made of wood and earth. It smelled of roots and dirt, as well as pork fat that boiled over the fire. It was warm and somewhat uncomfortable from the humidity of the rain that passed overhead. Argil's wife had long reddish-blonde hair that was tied up atop her head, though many loose strands hung down about her face. She was a portly woman and her cheeks were flushed. They noticed that the pattern of cloth was the same in her dress that was worn by her husband.

She had the stopcock of a keg open and a thin wine flowed into a pot. The woman looked to Rorin as he helped Esgalwen into their main room - a look of surprise at seeing both a Dwarf and a woman. She pointed, "Sit her down over there." She then directed Arbogast and Grimbeorn to another place upon the rush covered floor.

The farmer and his son both hung their axes on hooks that were on a support beam. He looked to Arbogast, "This is my wife, Fern. I am Argil - let us step out so that she might help your friends...we shall talk outside, at the fire, and you can tell me who you really are and why you are here."

[Eclecticon]

"I will join you when I may," Arbogast replies, "but I myself have no small familiarity with the tending of wounds, and the faster my friends are seen to, the better." 

He nods towards Bandy.  "In the meantime, Bandobras here is a wise and well spoken as any among us, and can explain our business here at least as well as I."



I'm going to make a Healing roll for Esgalwen.  These guys still don't know who Grimbeorn is, so there's no reason for them to hold a grudge. 

Rolled 1d12 : 1, total 1
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 2, 1, total 9

[GandalfOfBorg]

The Beorning ancestral axe slipped from his grip due to the blood of his wounds.  Grimbeorn almost fell to the ground with it but to be caught by attendants.  With their help he stumbled to the Viglunding hut and he groaned upon his bulk being dumped unceremoniously on the family table.  In the midst of ministrations, his eyes fluttered and he gave a wan smile to the lady of the house and daughter as they did their work.  Songs floated through his mind bringing pleasant memories back to yester days of his childhood, being with his mother and grandmother.

[tomcat]

"Oh come now," said Fern, when she saw Arbogast fumbling at Esgalwen's wounds. "You may have the healer's knowledge but there is much to be learned about the healer's touch."

The farmer's wife walked towards the companions, along with her daughter. She had a steaming iron pot with her, the handle wrapped by a swath of linen. Fern came to stand between the two wounded friends and she talked soft and soothingly, "You have been bitten by a warg," her accent was heavy with that of the upper vales, "and it is said that some of these bites are unclean. A man can heal, but then die weeks later when the poison reaches his heart. We must wash the toxins away. I can tell you that this will hurt, but I promise you it is for your own good."

She reached out with her hand to Arbogast and gave to him two straps of hard leather. "Have them grip this between their teeth...I have seen even the strongest of men bite off his tongue in pain." Arbogast nodded, knowing what was to be done. Grimbeorn and Esgalwen were also aware, though neither was ready to continue. Fern knelt down by Esgalwen and smiled with a mother's look, while her daughter moved to hold the ranger by her shoulders and clasped her hand. Fern whispered, "Bite hard and do not try to hold onto your wits. If they leave you, let your body fall into the comfort of sleep. Do you understand?"

Apprehensively, Esgalwen nodded. She was trembling and the farmer's daughter did her best to soothe her, stroking her hair and softly humming a song.

And then there was pain. Raging, screaming, horrible burning. Esgalwen felt the pain of her wound tear through her body and she screamed over the leather strap...and then darkness. Fern watched as the boiling wine rinsed the wound, blowing on it as she did to try add comfort as best she could, but the ranger was already limp. She took the opportunity to rinse once more and then gestured to her daughter, "The poultice. Apply it now. Have him help you." Fern gestured to Arbogast.

Done with Esgalwen, the farmer's wife turned to Grimbeorn. "I am sorry, dear sir, but this will probably hurt you more due to where the wolf has bitten you." Grimbeorn looked at his hip and lower stomach - had the wolf not been unbalanced, he may have been eviscerated.

The Beorning took the strap and bit hard. He nodded to the woman and then there was fire and pain, and then blackness.

Bandy had followed the farmer out to the fire pit. Argil strode next to him, looking down with wonder and questions. How could such a little fellow be allowed to speak for such tall, strong folk?

The Hobbit was cordial as always, but concern was knitted across his brow. The farmer gave a wry smile, "Fear not...I promise you they are in good hands. T'is my wife that most folk come to when they are harmed. She will take care of your people."

Argil offered a seat to Bandy - a large, worn log - and then one to Rorin who had joined them. The man sat down next to his son, while others from the village gathered round. "So...your two friends - the men. They did not speak of your presence here. Why were you hiding upon the hill? Are you really travelers, or brigands seeking to claim some of our goods?"

A muffled scream from a woman came to them from the house and Bandy quickly stood, fear on his face. A large hand was placed on his shoulder, "I promise you, they are in good hands. Fear not. Unfortunately the only way to purge the poison of a warg bite is to wash it clean with boiling wine. It is a terrible remedy to be sure, but one that must be done. Sit...speak with me, while my wife tends your companions."

Bandy nodded and did as he was told, only to jolt up once more when he heard Grimbeorn's own cry. He turned back towards Argil and sat once more.

[Telcontar]

The Hobbit was a bit surprised when Arbogast nominated him to speak for the part and was happy when he heard the heavy tred of Rorin's boots follow him out. Though quietly as he passed he reminded his woodman friend, "Remember the cordial that the grey wizard gave us, this may be the time to use it."

********
Bandy sat back down.

"As you know we are strangers in these lands, my friend here comes from the Lonely Mountain, a kingdom that was lost and now has been found. Myself, I come from far to the west over both the great river and the great spine of the world the Misty Mountains. Here in the lands of men it is best to let other men do the speaking. For your ways are both strange to us and for me at least my presence often invokes superstition in the folks of the vales."

"I assure you we are not brigands and in our own lands we are each accorded great respect for the deeds we have done and have the oath of many kith and kin to stand by our word at the council. Many days under the stars and the sun have reduced us to the appearance that you see before you, for travel not destitution have led us to appear so before you. And as you know, the wood is not a kind place."

Bandy wrapped his small Hobbit hand around the brooch of his pin and showed it to Argil. "We are the Fellowship of the Helm a company of travelers that bring hope when things were thought hopeless or dire. For it is in such a quest that you find us here today."

"Not long past a company of Orcs came from the wood. We were tracking them, but have lost the trail now that we have left the wood. With them is a maiden, much admired among her kin. We are to redeem her from her captivity, and bring hope again to her kin where there is none. We seek to claim no goods from you or your kin, in fact your aid and healing to my injured friends will be paid for in coin honestly gained and given in peaceful friendship for services rendered."

The Hobbit took out two silver coins and held them in the palm of his hand in offering to Argil.

"If not for the slaying of the beast, of which I am sure you will be glad to be free of, then to return hope to those who have lost it do you know where these orcs have come from the wood or whither they have gone?"   

  I hate trusting to the dice roller instead of my own skill, but here goes. Courtesy roll Doug if you require it.
[roll][/1d12roll]
[roll][/3d6roll]

[Telcontar]

 

Rolled 1d12 : 10, total 10

Rolled 3d6 : 4, 6, 2, total 12

[tomcat]

looks pretty good to me!  
The farmer listened to the Hobbit with wonder in his eyes. The words that came from Bandy were sophisticated and rife with wisdom, and Argil was taken aback. He was a simple man with a simple life. He loved his family and kin. He had never taken the time to venture beyond his borders, but he was finding the world had nary a problem venturing through his own.

But here was a small person - Holbytlyn - as they were called in legend, speaking to him with solid counsel and courtesy. Argil felt his world expanding just a little bit more.

It had primarily been the toughs out of Holmgrar - the primary settlement of the Viglundings, where Viglund himself resided. These men were sent north and throughout the lands of the East Upper Vales in search of tribute. Argil was man of the north - a Viglunding - but he did not always agree with his lord's decrees. Thus he was isolated, along with his people, and sometimes treated as a foe. The toughs would come and take food, supplies, and they would even take the youth from his houses. There was bitterness, but there was also fear.

The other travelers most seen were the orcs and goblins that would traverse between the forest, the narrows, and the Vales of Gundabad. They, too, scavenged from him, but not to the extent of his own people. Viglund had made minor agreements with the orcs - it was said that the Northman lord had even taken some of the goblins as slaves. The terms allowed them passage across the northern frontier. The agreement was of mutual respect - do not bother us and we will not bother you. But orcs were dark of heart and they obey the rules only so far.

Argil breathed in deep and then let it out slowly, "It was less than six days past. A ragged band of orcs came out of the wood at sundown. They pushed through my land, but not before stopping and demanding water from my well. We gave it to them for fear of their number, though it seemed they were in disarray. There was great turmoil between the two that led. I do not think that either was the true leader...perhaps he was dead. They had someone within their number, whom they did not reveal nor allow to speak. Mayhaps this is the person you seek?"

[Telcontar]

  i think that's a check on courtesy.


Bandy scratched at his chin.

"Yes, that would match what we had heard for their party did not go unmolested."

" I wish to cause you and your family no lasting hardship from these ill folk so we will not tarry here. If you may do so without causing troubles of your own set us again upon their path, or failing that direct us on such a way that we may find it we would be much appreciated."

[tomcat]

"You'll not be causing us anymore hardship than we already know. The orcs follow the Gundabad trail that lies to the north - at least, that is what we call it. It is an evident path that cuts across the northern vales and into the triangle of their territory. Know this...it is a dangerous route you seek. Not only do the orcs march its length, but also wicked and evil Hill-men.

"They say these folk once served the fastness of Angmar and made terrible pacts with the powers that ruled that land, but were scattered when the Witch-king abandoned his realm. Then, when the Éothéod ruled the vale, they were driven back north and west over the mountain into lands far away." The farmer poked a stick into the fire to stir the coals, "I do not envy you your journey."

As they talked, Fern came out of the house and approached the fire. She wiped her hands on a linen and Bandy and Rorin could see blood. Arbogast was behind her, but he gave a nod of reassurance. The farmer's wife spoke, "They are sleeping now, but the wounds have been closed. The next day will be the tell - if the dark, bruised flesh appears, then the warg bite will have fouled their blood and it will slowly spread to their death. If not...then they will heal. You are hungry? Will you break bread with us?"

[Telcontar]

Song roll

Rolled 1d12 : 2, total 2

Rolled 3d6 : 2, 4, 3, total 9

[Telcontar]

Bandy nodded to them and shuddered. The name of Angmar had seeped into the ancient past of the Hobbits too, and nothing good was said of it. In fact with it was associated the end of the Kings in the north.

The Hobbit was happy for food that wasnt cooked on the trail and he spoke freely and happily as he ate. When the food was mostly done the Hobbit began to tell a tale, in payment for his supper.Bandy stood upon his bench and wove a story of the river and the great wood, and of snatches of story he had learned about Scytha and his slaying by Fram.

 The story was well told, but did not cross the cultural divide that separated the other men of the Vales and these folk. Instead of heartening these folks his tales of the great deeds of men, they saw these heroes as being the people of their sometimes enemies and the great detail of the story awoke the superstitions of the folk about the wee folk. They began to fear that maybe he was a great wizard in disguise working magic, or a fell creature of the wood that they had just barely managed to escape the ire of, but they had acccidently invited into their home none the less.

This was a folk that was wary of strangers, and more so of creatures that were not even of thier race.

All marveled again when they witnessed the small creature blowing smoke rings in the yard after eating enough food for two men. They were happy these strangers would soon be gone again, and happier still that there were not young babies in the house to become the revenge of this creature should he grow angry with them before leaving.


  figured my advancement checks usually come from social rolls so i wanted to get a song roll in and then narrate the outcome. I thought that this was more suitable to the roll then that the story was boring.

[tomcat]

I like it, Tom.

I wanted to say, too, that you all have never heard of warg bites being poisonous. Maybe they are, maybe they aren't, but it's nothing you've ever seen or dealt with as characters.

Maybe it's a superstition of the north folk who can't explain normal infections. Either way, I didn't want you all wondering what the hell I was writing about and from what source.

Then again, they may be poisonous. 

[tomcat]

The rest of the day passed with Arbogast, Rorin and Bandy left to themselves. The farmer's returned to their tasks and only spoke to the strangers at need.

Fern would not allow the wounded to be moved and so Argil begrudgingly gave permission for the companions to stay the night, but he said, "You'll need be on your way with the morning light." To which his wife replied, "I will be a'telling them when they can get off."

The night passed with the trio sleeping in a barn on a layer of hay, though each took turns watching for any dangers.

In the morning, the farmer's son came to collect them. They found both Grimbeorn and Esgalwen awake and eating from wooden bowls what looked to be oatmeal. Both nodded to their fellows when they entered, and Fern handed them each their own bowl.

"I have looked at both wounds and there appears to be no corruption of the flesh, save the normal redness. If they are up for it, they can move - though I would be staying a'bed for at least another day or two."

"Well that canna happen, Fern," answered Argil. "They have already eaten their fill of two days of our food and we can't afford more. Besides, we don't need strangers here if collectors come."

"I know, Pa! You tell me and I hear...but trouble could come to them if they find no comfort on their road."

"Where they plan on headin', there'll be no comfort anyway."

Fern sighed and shook her head. She handed Esgalwen a cup, "Drink this, pretty. It's bitter but it will stave off any pain you might feel while walking."

"Thank, ma'am," said the ranger, graciously accepting the cup. She then looked to Bandy and the others, "What have you found out?"

[tomcat]

Healing...

The two wounded characters are considered Treated.

• Esgalwen and Grimbeorn gets back 2 END points each for the night's rest, and will continue this as long as they get good rest. If the sleep is interrupted, or not thorough (i.e. they are sleeping in the rain with no appropriate cover, or cold, or hard surface, etc.), they will not recover END for that period. 

• Rorin immediately recovers 4 END after the battle and then 6 more for a night's rest and thus has his 10 END restored. 

[Eclecticon]

"Some six days ago, our quarry came by here.  They left in the direction of Mount Gundabad, of which I have heard tales but know little.  There may be others of their kind, or Men from Gundabad's foothills, abroad on the trail.  Our hosts do not expect ours to be a pleasant journey."