Words of the Raven - Northward (redux)

[Telcontar]

They stood a ways from the hillfort gazing as those who broke free assembled now free from pursuit.  Hathcyn pointed at some.

"Those folk resemble the archer at the mound, are they the little folk of the inn?"

Grimbeorn nodded and staring a moment longer at the burning wreck turned and began to walk away. Many followed him beginning their long trek.

Hathcyn gazed upon it a moment longer. His face illuminated even in the distance by the growing fire as thick black smoke reached up to touch he sky.

"I call it a fitting punishment for those who would abuse so the ancient customs of hospitality. Those who accept a path tamer into their home and accept the offer of drink should not be then set upon. The burning of their hall will answer that insult to us and calm the spirits of their fathers. The treason of the combat though shall be answered by the living.

Roadmaker, if you have the fire in your belly for it perhaps we should take a few others of like mind and guard the rear. Buying time for the tired and weak to fly and forestall any pursuit. We would have to hang back but a little and there are weapons we took that may be passed out to those with a mind to use them."

The dwarf smiled grimly, "you call your debt paid Hathcyn Longspear, my account with this folk is not yet balanced. Had I a score of my kin at my call I'd slack their thirst for war that would last a generation. But Aye, I'll march with you in the rear and fill their night terrors with the battle cry of dwarves should they press us close."

Hathcyn nodded, "there are many tales among this group that I would like to hear, but now is not the time."

Beside them stood Aestid, watching the smoke engulf the home of her father and the tongues of flame dance upon its walls.

Mercy dawned then on the Longspear seeing the anguish in her face.

"Lady, it was bravely done. Your pain reminds me that folk are not born to evil though they may walk all their days in its shadow."

He set down the sack and removing his cloak he placed it around her shoulders.

"Come, your grief is admirable, but as you say you must come now with us and be taken into the circle of our fate."

With his cloak removed in the light of the fire the wet spot of his wounds was visible and the bandages he bore disheveled and out of place. Damp were his clothes with the sweat of previous blade bites, but he was still young and the passion of life was full within him. Many miles he would go yet still and none that followed after would waylay them while his spear was at hand. He shouldered the sack again and turned to follow the others taking her by the hand.

[Eclecticon]

Beautiful work as always!

[tomcat]

Paul, ignore this if this is not the time or place. I just wanted to write.  
Esgalwen and Tate rode under the rising sun of another new morning.

Signs of passage had become scarce as the trees of the Elfwood had thinned, but they knew that the land of Viglund was north. No matter what, they would eventually find answers as to their comrades well-being. It was then that the ranger eyed the black smoke on the horizon. It was thin and sparse, but a smudge on the sky nonetheless.

"Tate," she pointed and the minstrel nodded. "I can only assume we need be ready for trouble."

"Aye, Lady," he agreed as he loosened his sword in its scabbard.

They spurred their horses forward, racing towards the unknown. At the distance, it was impossible to know what burned - or had burned - only that it was big enough to be seen from so far away. The land pitched up into a series of rolling hillocks and Esgalwen thought the elevation would lend aid to their pursuit, and so steered her horse in the direction of the first rise. Cresting the top, the swath of land before them shone with the gold of the yellowing grass, while to the east the patchwork of Mirkwood in its Fall colors was very evident. The western horizon was bounded by the ribbon of the Anduin.

Esgalwen raised her hand to shade her eyes. A black raven flew high above, rapidly towards the south. In the distance, the man and woman could make out the movement of a large group. Was it a herd of kine, or other beast of the plain? No...the individuals within the group were too small.

"Those are people," said Tate. His memory of the exodus from Lake-town back towards Dale, flooded his mind, as the refugees fled for the relative cover of the old city. The minstrel could clearly remember what a mob of people moving looked like from a great distance.

"Our people?" asked Esgalwen.

"I cannot say."

"Then we must be cautious. Though, I could not imagine why the Viglundings would be moving southward in great numbers, lest they come for war."

"If that were the case, would they not be carrying banners to announce themselves, and have outriders positioned to espy the land?"

"Perhaps, Tate, but these are not my people and I am still learning their customs...we must be cautious."

"Aye, you are right, Gwen. They are a strange lot, aren't they."

"Simple," was her reply, though she nodded at his remark. "I would say they are more simple in their ways." Her eyes looked back to some distant past, "I sometimes envy it."

Esgalwen drew her bow and readied an arrow in the same hand, while her other took back up the reins. She urged her horse forward at a pace and the two raced down the opposite side of the hill. They steered to the right of the oncoming group, so to have the forest on their right. If things went bad, they could make for the cover of the wood. If it was Grimbeorn and their friends, then all would be well.

It took only a short time to make the approach. They watched the van of the oncoming group slow and become guarded, as the two riders thundered at them, but Esgalwen raised her hand in wave when she saw the large frame of Grimbeorn in the front, leading his people!

"HAIL! GRIMBEORN!" The ranger veered left and rode to where he stood.

The Beorning yelled in reply, "We have weak and wounded to the fore. If you are well, then go to the rear. We will need all the strength there if any should come to waylay us!"

Understanding his meaning, Esgalwen and Tate passed up the line. Some recognized them and waved. Some cried out excitedly believing reinforcements had come and that many riders followed. Some wondered at who these two riders were and if there was a new threat. At the end of the line, Esgalwen saw Rorin stomping along and she smiled. Beside the Dwarf was Hathcyn, whom she had just only met. Lastly, she saw halflings!

Is Bandy among them? she wondered, excitedly.

[Eclecticon]

Admid the joy of the reunion on the road, there comes a raucous croak and a beating of wings.  Landing on the branch of a nearby tree, Magrac spreads his wings.  "Griiiiimbeooooorn!  Griiiiimbeooooorn!  Eeeesgalweeen seeeeks youuuu!  Waaaar is cooooome to your laaaaaaaaand!  Invaaaaders maaaass to the sooooouuuth, beneeeeeaaath the baaaaanner of the bloooood moooooon!" 

His message delivered, the raven looks about him, finally recognising Esgalwen, Tate and Rorin.  "Yoooouuuu coooould have toooold meeee yoooouuuu kneeeew wheeeere he waaaaas," he croaks, somewhat shamefaced.