The Battle of Stánford

[Eclecticon]

Like a river, the Beorning host reassembles.  As word of Grimbeorn's command spreads, friends and kinsmen come together from field and pasture.  Small handfuls gather back into their work gangs and make haste to Beorn's House.  There, the thegns gather their kin and followers together, and as a final repast is shared, those that are to stay behind bid farewell to those who are to march south. 

Before the gloom of night can fall too deeply, a party of women gathers and bears a bundle to the high table.  Druessel, Brunhild and the others bow their heads in deference, but Aestid, seemingly chosen to speak for the seamstresses and alewives, holds her head high.  "This, I am told," she says, her manner high and regal as if she addressed the court of far-away Gondor, "was to be a gift for your naming-day, but its time is come sooner than your father anticipated when he bade it be made.  No standard has he ever needed, for all Men between the mountains and Mirkwood would know him by sight.  But you, I am told, are destined to grow yet greater in fame, and it befits one such as you to mark, for all to behold, where those who follow him might find him." 

This said, she unfurls the bundle into a magnificent banner, its weaving intricate as its design is bold: a great bear, ten-clawed, standing betwixt sun and moon.  As the hall is hushed in awe, Aestid begins to sing in a voice clear and yet surprisingly deep:

You are the path he forged through the unknown,
Straight as a spear at the enemy thrust!
Never again shall we struggle alone.
You are his legacy.  You are his trust. 

You are the flag he raised, bloody and torn. 
You are the shield that keeps us from fear.
Great in your heart is his courage reborn,
Grimbeorn Wolf-slayer, son of the Bear! 

As she finishes, the hall erupts in cheers, and as the banner is affixed to a tall pole of ash wood the song is taken up by every man, woman and child present.  So does a sombre evening turn cheerful, and a celebration carry on long into the night. 

Dull and cold breaks the following dawn, however.  After breaking their fast on cheese and ale left over from the night, the men of the the south-bound host march grim and silent.  Their mien is shared by those that they pass on the way, though the cottars and steaders make ready provision of the gathered harvest to speed them on their way.  "To Stánford," they say.  "To Stánford, and may your sword-arms be moved by the wrath of the ancestors." 

Two days out from Beorn's House, the scouts catch sight of a final party of Woodmen, about a dozen strong.  When the travellers catch sight of the bear banner, they break out into the tree-felling song so familiar from long days spent on the Forest Road, and the company's hearts are gladdened by the sight, not only of Arbogast, but of Idunn as well, her great hound Sindjarfr bounding about, overjoyed at the scent of long-forgotten friends. 

That night, the moon and stars dart furtively between clouds dark as jet but light aplenty gleams from copper cloak-pins as, for the first time in years, the Fellowship of the Helm is gathered together.  As the road-songs are sung and the fire dances, old bonds of companionship are renewed and new introductions made.  Rorin, the warmth and good cheer putting him in an expansive mood, concludes "... yes indeed, of my cousins clans does he spring: Anar, son of Anoc!  Born of the Iron Hills and as sturdy and dependable as King Dain's own boots!  He's already a greater smith than I, and he's fated to be a stonemason worthy of the lost halls of Moria one day!  Though other business will call me away once all this is done, he will ensure that the honour of Durin's folk is upheld wherever the Fellowship may venture!" 

Darker, though, is Arbogast's news.  "Not long home was I, Grimbeorn, when your message arrived.  I had been with Radaghast, searching the southern shore of the Black Tarn for signs of the corrupted River-maiden (we dared not put out in a boat).  Only a glimpse did I catch of her, and I thought that I saw upon her a corslet of mail, fine beyond even the craft of the Dwarf-lords of old.  When I spoke of this to the Brown Wizard, though, he frowned and would not speak the thought that clearly unsettled him." 

"Then came a survivor from a trading party who had sought to cross the Narrows of the forest, as has become not uncommon.  His folk, he said, were waylaid by unclean things that wore the shapes of Men but were made of the dead wood and moulder of the forest floor.  At once, I set out with Idunn and a handful of others." 

Thereafter, he is silent for some time, gathering his thoughts as the fire pops and crackles.  "It was a trap," he says at last.  "The great spider that we fought at the Millfort has yet darker kin, and they have dreadful powers to confuse and confound the minds of Men.  Of those who set out, only Idunn and I returned alive, and wood-wise as we are, it took us many days to find the path back to Black Tarn Hall." 

"Well is it that work proceeds on the Forest Road," he says, "as I fear we must regard the passage through the Narrows as barred to all Men." 

[tomcat]

Dude, I love this post! It is so awesome seeing Arbogast and Idunn again! I am going to wait for Matt to post, but my thoughts for Esgalwen is as an archer, and a ranger, on her horse she could be an outrider for the host along with others.

The gloom that has haunted her for so long is apparently cleared for now, and could possibly have been due to the separation of the original Company. She loves Tate - as she can - but the friends she created when she first came north, she considers her family. All of them coming back together has bolstered her spirit. Still, her 5 Hope to 4 Shadow does not help.

Anyway, Matt - use her as you need, but that is what I see her doing to at least guard the march south and garner information.

[Posterboy]

  Yeah... I said it in the other thread as well -- LOVED this post. Super epic feel! Nice writing, Paul!

I love Idunn! >>squeee<<

Anyway....

[Eclecticon]

Thanks, guys - I always wonder as I'm writing whether it's all just pretentious wank. 

Also, as long as we're bothering Matt, could you give me a rough idea of how many warriors you've left up north and how many you're marching south?  Rounded to the nearest ten is fine. 

[GandalfOfBorg]

The night was marked by many things – old friends reuniting, new friends becoming acquainted, and a solidifying of unity within the Beornings.
Grimbeorn gives his thanks to Aestid for both gifts, the standard and the song, for each is mighty in its own right.  Raising the standard aloft, chants of "Grimbeorn!  The Bear!  Beornings huzzah!" echoed in the hall and night outside.  He raises a hand to quiet the room and soon it falls to a dull roar that he can be heard.  "Mighty is this banner and greater still is its house!  We will ride forth with this at the fore as a sigil of my house and warning to all whom fall outside its favor.  To bear this honor, I name Hathcyn my standard bearer and a warden of this home.  His words will be as if they were mine and would command in my name if I so deem.  Woe to you, Hathcyn, if thy charge is dishonored."
Once the revelry dims a bit, the heir excuses himself to see to the men outside and tend to other matters before the force departs.    50 men left behind
---
Grimbeorn's heart is lightened at the arrival of one of his dearest friends and another great ally the Fellowship has made.  He listens to the stories told and the one by Arbogast is indeed dark.  "All I needed was one more good stroke against that horror and the threat of the spiders would've diminished for an age.  The curse of unfinished business!" he growls, smashing a wolf spider at the edge of the firepit.  After a moment his ire slackens and his thoughts turn to more important things.  "My friend, what of your family?  Those young children I left so long ago?  And your wife?"

[Eclecticon]

"They abide well, my friend" comes the reply, "and I, in my turn, am grown accustomed to the joys of fatherhood that never find their way into song.  In fact, the months they spent with me working on the road have proven fruitful indeed!  Even now, Lindwine's belly waxes again."  His face, so downcast when he delivered the news of the spider attack, now splits into a broad grin.  "I think I am due a son, this time.  Even so, but for the fact that the coming battle is certain I am sure that Lindwine would have sought to come with me.  It is perhaps well for you that she did not, for she has concluded with a rare certainty that you, being a young man growing great in fame, must be in want of a wife.  And I am sure that, if you ever come the Tarn again, she will find excuses to introduce you to any number of her un-wed relatives." 

[Eclecticon]

I'll work on geting a post up.

I'm giving Tom another little while to get this up, then I'll move things along. 

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn stood silently in the hall. He had withdrawn somewhat to the side as he did not know the new comers and clearly they were close friends to Grimbeorn. The Longspear, like all the others, was carried away in the moment and the unveiling of the Bear Standard. All of this was swept aside when Grimbeorn named him as the standard bearer. The eyes of the hall turned to the kinslayer.

"This is an honor above my standing Wolfslayer, surely there are those more deserving of this honor? Many of those here are better suited..."

Grimbeorn shook his head and said simply, "you".

"You honor me greatly. I shall carry it ever forward. Where you stand, it shall stand. Where you go, the bear standard will follow. May the courage of our people lend me the courage to carry your sigil ever where you will it to go while the charge to bear it is mine."

Hathcyn kissed the corner of the banner and bowed his head in both thanks and honor.

[Telcontar]

Ooc: events over took me but I wanted to recognize the choice of standard bearer. On with the action!

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn chuckles, an action unaccustomed given his name.  "If be a boy, I pray you not name him after me, you and your family need all the joy they may receive.  As for me taking a wife?  Circumstances have not and not lend to those bonds at this time, yet you may see more of me soon enough about those things that continue to ail your lands.  You, all of you," he gestures to the fellowship, "I could not ask for boon and trusted friends.  I owe all here a great debt.  Thank you," he says raising his cup.

[tomcat]

Two days out from Beorn's House, the scouts catch sight of a final party of Woodmen, about a dozen strong. 

Just to understand our current status - are we still at Beorn's Hall, or are we two-day's ride south?

[Telcontar]

  my understanding is we headed out and met Abrogast along the road.

[Eclecticon]

We've been zipping back and forth a little as people add their own little flashbacks, but the current time is two days out from Beorn's House, about a day and a half's march from Stánford.  With that in mind...

[Eclecticon]

An army moves necessarily slower than a small band of companions but even so, the miles pass beneath the tread of the Beornings and that of those who march alongside them, and step by step, Stánford draws ever closer.  Finally, early one clear afternoon, the hill, topped with ancient stones and surrounded by the halls and barns of the present age.  These, in turn, are ringed by a rough stockade so new that it seems that the wind carries the scent of pine sap to the approaching warriors.  Beyond this, the fields lie mostly bare, their bounty hastily gathered.  The Blood-moon Men, it seems, have not been idle since they seized the village. 

No cry carries to where the Fellowship stands, but the approach of their army cannot have been missed. 


Some Awareness rolls:

Anar

1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 1d6 : 3, total 3

Arbogast

1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 2d6 : 1, 5, total 6

Bandobras

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

Esgalwen

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

Grimbeorn

1d12 : 2, total 2
Rolled 3d6 : 4, 3, 6, total 13

Hathcyn

1d12 : 5, total 5
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 5, 5, total 15

Tate

1d12 : 2, total 2
Rolled 4d6 : 5, 4, 4, 5, total 18

[Eclecticon]

The keenest-eyed among the company can already see armed Men forcing smaller figures into a barn toward the edge of the village, about which are piled stacks of cut wood. 

for AP from the above rolls.