The Long Road - friends new and old

[Telcontar]

Morirúsë walked out of the canopy of the woods to the shore of the river. Setting down his burdens he washed his face, neck, and hands in the waters of the Tarn.

"Come friends! Our walk was long and burdensome, let us rest a moment and ponder the crossing. I have saved a bit of the wine from the elf camp, now seems a good time to finish it."

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast too takes the chance to lay down his burdens and rest a while.  As he does so, he happens to spy a heron, its wings spread to shade the water where it fishes.  Footsore as he is, such a chance cannot be passed up, for birds like this one are rife by the shores of the Black Tarn. 

"Friend heron," he begins, hoping that a polite interruption will be tolerated, "I pray you, when you fly south to be with your kin, find the woman who dances by the shore of the Tarn and tell her that her husband lives, and thinks daily of her and our children.  Tell her that I shall return as soon as I may."

The heron looks at him quizzically...


There may be no need for a Song roll here, but just in case -

1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 2d6 : 1, 6, total 7

[Eclecticon]

... and returns to its fishing.  But the Fire-watcher is at least able to retire to the riverbank, secure in the knowledge that he has passed his message on as best he can. 

[Telcontar]

  the rivermaiden is going to be pretty confused by that mesage. 

[Eclecticon]

  Nah, Duskwater don't dance no more.  Not since SPOILERS happened. 

[tomcat]

Paul and Tom - I really liked the posts. I am awarding all the PC's one point from Ulmo.

The others do not understand what Arbogast says - maybe Morirúsë does - but the Company all feel heartened.   

Tom - since Morirúsë doesn't need any hope, I am giving him a day's rest in      

[tomcat]

After a short period of rest, the companions stood once more and felt renewed.

But now they needed to cross the river, which meant they were going to have to swim. The only other option was to follow the Dusky upstream to its source and go around it. The latter option would take them deeper into the heart of Mirkwood with few points of reference, and so they decided to swim.
It's going to take Athletic tests TN 14 to swim the river...

TN 14 athletics by PC

Arbogast 2d 1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 2d6 : 6, 2, total 8

Esgalwen 2d 1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 2d6 : 5, 4, total 9

Grimbeorn 3d 1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 1, 4, total 11

Morirúsë 42d 1d12 : 1, total 1
Rolled 4d6 : 3, 2, 3, 5, total 13

[tomcat]

The companions determined the crossing would be safest in numbers, so as they might aid one another at need. They entered the water, which was still warm from the late summer sun and began the swim.

Arbogast and Esgalwen, burdened as they were, still swam the Dusky though the current carried them downstream. It was the Noldo who faltered. In his weary state, Morirúsë began to weaken midway across and the brown waters covered him over. The Elf was certain there was a voice in the gurgling water calling to him. Deep and low, but not clear in the words - was it Elvish that he heard? Was it the call of the Vala, Ulmo, telling him it was time to return to the lands in the West?

Even as his arms failed him and his legs knotted from overuse, Morirúsë resigned himself to the call of the water and the power it had over them all. But then, great arms reached under his arms and his head was suddenly back in the air. He gulped in the sweet breaths, even as he coughed and sputtered out water. Grimbeorn's deep voice was calling him, "Morirúsë! Elf! Do you hear me? I have you...just let me carry you. Do not fight me."

In moments, the Noldo and Beorning felt the muddy bottom under foot. The two scrambled to the river's edge and both lay panting in the mud and weeds.
Due to Grimbeorn's and Morirúsë weakened roll, I have the above narrative...add to it as you will.

[Telcontar]

"I knew bears could climb, but not also that they can swim. That was a mighty feat and I thank you for it."

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn laughed at what he perceived was jest for the day was nice and the swim refreshed him.  "It was nothing for your kind are of no burden to me.  You are like the salmon my brothers swat from the rapids near the Carrock.  In all the years of your life, you never learned to swim?"

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast indicates the mail rings girt about Morirúsë's upper body, bright in the sunlight.  "His skin shines like a salmon, too, though I think that even your brother bears would break their teeth upon it.  That our elven friend made it as far as he did under such a weight is no small marvel." 

[Telcontar]

Morirúsë ignored the barbed comment that came to his mind. The woods was bad enough on thier moods and he recognized that he was sometimes difficult for others to bear.

He rolled up his shirt and the black rings of mail glistened in the light like skin of a snake, oily and black.  "Indeed they would for these rings were made by the fathers if the fathers of dwarves in the Eldar days when the fashioning and making of things the Noldo and thier folk shared. Once I was arrayed and lived as a Lord, but now it is all that remains; this armour, and my sword of all the things I once possessed. Sharp indeed will the claws be that could pierce this mail."

Morirúsë then laughed, "though I should be better rested the next time I swim in it."

[tomcat]

They rested in the sunlight for a bit and then turned to the looming forest. The shadow of the wood affected their moods and smiles turned to grim resolve. It was time to move on.

They passed from sparse daylight and blue skies back into the shroud of still air and shadows. The oppressiveness of the forest weighed on them once more, but they bent their heads to the task and kept putting a boot before the other.

None knew, but behind them in the Dusky River, a beautiful maiden rose up from the water shallows. Her hair was long and shone a dark shade of blue - in it was weaved lengths of river-plants and flowers. She was the youngest of the River-Maidens and her name was Silverbell. She made no sound as she watched the heroes march away and once more enter the forest.

Once her heart was happy - like the frolicking water that fast-flowed as rapids down the length of the northern Dusky. But that happiness was gone. Though she remained hidden most times, Silverbell was a protector of the river and the lands through which it traveled. With her was her sisters, Sunshadow and Duskwater, who each observed their own portion of the river, all the way to the Tarn. But now, one of them had been corrupted and it was bleeding into the waters she loved. Worse, it was bleeding into the plants and animals that relied on the river - and into the people as well.

A tear fell from Silverbell's eye to quickly mix with the wetness that covered her skin. "He has heard your plea, my kin of days long gone. Look for his blessings in times most dreadful, when no hope seems possible. He runs through us all and thus does he help guide." The River-Maiden's eyes left the figure of Morirúsë and fell upon Arbogast, "Son of Men, your words shall be heard. I will see them to your loved ones and they will know that you think of them, even as the Shadow falls over all. They will find the strength they need to make the choice they must, even as the world they know and love crumbles down around them."

Silverbell started to submerge, but first whispered before her lips were covered, "Hurry home."

Arbogast felt a warmth stir in his heart of Lindwine and his daughters - Cyffa and Lafwyne. In his mind he heard her, his wife, speaking of her love for him and smiling. He caught his breath for a moment - so beautiful was her smile. The thought seemed so real as if it were tangible and it stayed him in his pace for a moment.

Behind the Fire-watcher he heard a woman, "Are you okay, my friend?"

It was Esgalwen and her tired face strove to give him an encouraging smile.

[tomcat]

The march lasted two more days and then a new noise broke the silence of the forest.

Thok! ... Thok! ... Thok!

The companions listened intently, but it was apparent to all who lived in the woods - or at least near them. It was the sound of axe-cutting. It was the sound of the Old Dwarf Road being cleared!

The Company quickened their pace and less than three furlongs later, they were standing upon a cobbled road. The forest was cut back from either side of it, though it desperately clung to its claim where it could. The stones set in the ground were broken, buried, or pushed up and out from the roots that shifted the earth below, but still it was evident that these were the cobbles laid by the Dwarves many years gone. It was not yet widened to allow for great traffic, but the old road was revealed.

Above them, the afternoon sky could be seen. Plumes of smoke roiled in the air, which pointed to the location of controlled burns. Bofri and Rorin the Dwarf had been busy indeed. Arbogast guessed on their location and estimated that the Millfort was at least twenty leagues to the west.

Twenty leagues! It was a truly massive feat.

As they stood there listening to the distant chopping of axes, the companions could feel a malevolence in the air. It was as if the trees now watched them with a bitter heart. The companions were certain that other things watched from within the woods, as well, waiting for an opportunity to stop the road's expansion.

Deciding it best to head west, towards the Millfort, the company moved in that direction. Their hope was to find Rorin and if not him, at least the Dwarf, Bofri.

Their fortune was with them. It was not long before they came upon the first group of woodmen. They were twenty strong and half of them chopped at tree trunk and root, while the other half worked in two teams to collect the debris and burn what they could. They were men, though, of Woodland Hall and from the vale - both Stonyford and Beornings.  Among them, too, were Dwarves of Erebor and they seemed to be giving direction to the woodcutters.

When the companions came into view, the woodmen quickly became cautious. The road was not cleared in the direction of the company and danger was always present.

A Dwarf strode forward, a large axe in his hands, "Who might ye be and what's yer business here?"
Were going to run this like an encounter.

I will need (all TN 14):

• Insight tests from everyone for Encounter advantages
• If you want to contribute dialogue to the encounter, I need an introduction Awe, Courtesy, or Riddle
• If you succeed at your introduction, you may take part in the Interactions with Inspire, Persuade, Riddle, or Song
• Tolerance is set at 5 (based on Valour)

[Eclecticon]

There is a brief, awkward pause before Arbogast realises that he is waiting for the absent Bandy to speak.  Quickly regathering his wits, he gives the Dwarf a formal bow, as he has often seen the Hobbit do.
 "Greetings to you.  I am the Fire-watcher of Black Tarn Hall, kin to many of these Men and friend to Rorin the Helm-smith and Bofri the Roadwarden." 


I'm making a Courtesy roll rather than a Riddle one.  Arbogast isn't trying to conceal anything here, and this Dwarf is probably used to the way Woodmen don't give their real names out to folk they've just met. 

1d12 : 6, total 6
Rolled 2d6 : 5, 1, total 6

Also an Insight, while I'm at it:

1d12 : 5, total 5
Rolled 2d6 : 1, 4, total 5