News from the Hunters

[Telcontar]

"Then you have left the path of wisdom if you think fire and warmth for the injured are doing nothing. Or stading watch while they sleep.

While sweat and exertion to you may amount to progress, dragging a comrade over every root and spider trap with your mannish night eyes may make you weary and feel accomplished, but it will little to aid your friend and doing so through the night without rest will mean you will cover less ground in the light of day when you could have accomplished more."

The elf bent and drapped his cloak about him, "but lead on moose of the forest. These are your lands and the errantries of your coming of age Grimbeorn Madiglihe son of Beorn. Those who will not listen to wisdom  must experience it if they are to learn, though a harsher teacher they will have."

Morirúsë tossed the torch at one of the woodmen and picked another from the ground. "The lame one should start now, or be left behind for doing nothing."

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast heaves an irritated sigh.  "Perhaps you recall this wood as it was in elder days, before the coming of the Shadow.  But understand that now, deepest night or brightest day, it makes little difference to those who see with the eyes of Men.  I am with my friend - we must fly this place, for the noise of battle has been marked by darker things than we, and soon will they come to see what spoils the axe-work has left."  He glances at the body of the slain Woodman.  "My kinsman too I would bear from here, but we have only so many strong arms and the dead must give way for those still drawing breath, be it ever so shallow." 

"Not far need we go for our trail to be all but lost to those things which hasten here.  Then there may be warmth and rest." 



Doug, I sort of assumed that the Woodmen were making a loop around and back towards the Dusky River, so we may not be that far from Woodmen-Town.  Correct me if I'm wrong. 

Also, I assume that at some point Arbogast is going to need to scout out a place where we can hole up in relative safety.  I'll roll for it now to save a bit of time. 

1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 3d6 : 2, 5, 2, total 9

[Eclecticon]

It sounds like we're done arguing about this.  In the absence of any dissent, I think we're moving on a short distance, but not trying to make a forced march back to the river. 

[tomcat]

Yea, I am ready to move the scene forward based on what you guys have given me - just been pretty busy these last two days. I haven't had a chance to sit and put my thoughts together.

I will post tonight or tomorrow.

[Eclecticon]

No worries, mate.  Just wanted to make sure you weren't waiting for us to reach a consensus.

[Telcontar]

  point of order it wasnt unanimous. 

[Eclecticon]

Quiet, you.

[tomcat]

Sorry guys, came home from office sick today. I should have that post up tomorrow.

[tomcat]

"When will you start listening to reason," came an exasperated voice, wheezing from the pain of his wound. Arbogast looked to see his father staring back at him and the older man continued, "You race to and fro, hither and yon, boy! You have never stopped long enough to learn. And it seems that Beorn's son is learning your ways! The Elf is right. We are at least two days back to town and there is naught can be done for the lass. There is naught to be done for the dead..." Arbodag looked at the seeping bite wound where the basilisk had gored him. "Perhaps there is naught to be done with me," he said with a tired sigh.

Lafdag, standing next to his brother, took up the plea, though his tone was different, "Your father is right, Arbogast. We will not make a night time rush to Woodmen-town...at least not in time to make a difference to any here. We better serve ourselves in this clearing - as your friend did say. Nothing will approach us unseen, and the night stars above will keep us watch. I cannot move with speed and thus would only hinder your progress. It was foolish for me to come...aye, I know, but I would not let your father face this beast alone. Thankfully, we never saw it. The basilisks come on us and we retreated to here, but they whittled our numbers along the path."

"Yes, Arbogast, listen to your uncle if you wont hear me. Your companion is hurt. Eberhard is hurt, as well as me. We need to wait for the morning and then the hale can hurry off for help while we wait. If you're foolish enough to run off in the dark, then all you will do is reduce what protection we have through the night." Arbodag turned his eyes from his son, "So, do as you like...run off into the dark, but your uncle and I, with our two lads, will wait here until the morning shows us our...path."

Arbogast could hear it in his father's voice - their path? The old man was consigning himself to life or death, whichever fate would grant him.

There was quiet in the clearing now.

Morirúsë moved towards the edge of the wood, "I will find wood for a fire. Perhaps the dead beasts can be dragged out of the clearing? If there are any carrion feeders about, it will serve us to have them away from us. Forgive me, but the same goes for your fallen friend."

Arbogast and Grimbeorn stood staring at one another. Esgalwen lay lifeless in the Beorning's arms.

Lafdag spoke somewhat apologetically, "Make up your minds, lads. I can use some help with these beasties. We will lay Kerwin in a bed of leaves for tonight and cover him proper in the morning. We will give him back to the forest."

[tomcat]

I know this debate has drawn on for too many days, but this was the Woodmen party's argument that I am late on getting into the game.

So, add more if you want - otherwise I will move the story along with our next post

[Telcontar]

Morirúsë moved to the edge of the dell out of the light and let his companions decide. He had said all that he had desired to and the blows of the wyrm pained him to further aggravation. 

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn isn't happy at all with this business, but relents his push to leave.  He gently puts Esgalwen down but does not range too far from her, helping with the site and the group's needs as he's wont.  Otherwise, he will remain nearby her, guarding over her.

[Telcontar]

Seeing Grimbeorn place the woman down the elf turns and scouts around the area.

[tomcat]

With Grimbeorn's relent, Arbogast nodded to no one in particular and accepted the decision that had been made for them all.

Esgalwen was made comfortable and then the two men saw to moving the dead lizards from the dell. Once done, they came for the body of Kerwin. He was a young man, having seen just over twenty summers, and he left a wife and child in Woodmen-town. This fact caused a pang within Arbogast and his desire to see his own children overwhelmed him.

The dead man was lifted as reverently as possible and taken to the outside of the dell where he was laid upon a pile of leaves. Grimbeorn made a promise to protect his body through the night so as to lay him properly in the earth with the coming morning. Arbogast, too, made such words and added a prayer that was customary of his folk.

Once done, the group gathered around the fire. Grimbeorn sat next to Esgalwen and made sure she was covered from the night chill. Her eyes stared unmoving, but the Beorning knew there was consciousness behind them. He whispered to her to rest and laid her head upon his lap, gently stroking her hair. The giant man told her they would find a cure for the poison that laced her blood.

"So," said Arbodag, "You have come far into the woods. What were you seeking? The beast, or us?"

[Telcontar]

Morirúsë walked around the outside of the dell. Once this was Greenwood the Great, but now among Men and Elves it was called Mirkwood. What it was called among the servants of the shadow Morirúsë did not know, nor did he care to.

His hand lingered upon the trunk of a tree as he passed and he felt with senses beyond touch the cancer of the trees, the dark malice and malignant spirit that grew up from the roots. Then he thought of the lamp, far off in the hall of the Woodmen. He did not believe that the men had deceived him intentionally, though he did not believe the origin story of the lamp for a minute.

He pondered too for a moment what Mithrandir knew or concealed about it and why and he heard again the words of the Brown Wizard about inherited grudges and insults hoarded like treasure. Of this Morirúsë was very familiar, but in the case of the werewolf those thoughts did nothing to temper his cold wrath to slay the beast. The master of such a creature was beyond his diminished present skill to go boldly against, but this creature the Elf thought he still possessed the strength to combat. The axes and swords of his companions were welcome in this task as well.

His thoughts turned again to the lamp. The light of which was like seeing the reflection of the sun off the water after being long in darkness. In these dark days of exile clearly this was a token of the house of Finwë and of his eldest son Fëanor. Had it survived all this time to be here when he came? Or was he merely now an agent in the history of the light? The lamp was not expected and he would have to think about what part it was and would play.

Morirúsë realized he was worn, not just from the battle and the wood, but he could feel the fatigue and weariness deep within. Perhaps the last of a house and folk largely departed or dead. The lamp. The lamp had washed that feeling from him and he recalled those days long ago in Dor Caranthir when they rode down the orcs and delivered the remanent of the Elf friends. Now in the dark of the forest he remembered the treachery of Ulfang, but he passed this quickly from his mind.

Here in the dark woods he saw only the rare light of a star coming through the branches and for the first time in a long time he saw their beauty, and their distance. Then in a soft but clear voice he sang again the song to Varda that they had once sung in Taniquetil, before the troubles came. And though he thought he sung quietly to himself even to the dell his music came and was felt among the Woodmen and stricken Lady of Gondor. Slow and distant it was, like the stars themselves, but contained a spirit and feeling of something unspoiled and constant. Light in the darkness.