CHAPTER 7: Paths Lost

[Eclecticon]

Just a quick thing, because I don't want to monopolise the narration: from Durwyn's description, it sounds like the bodies are pretty fresh.  In that case, it's definitely something that Arbogast is going to want to check out.  If that's not part of the adventure, I'm happy for you to just narrate what he finds (assuming that Odil and Durwyn can even direct him to the spot). 

[tomcat]

if you ask them, the bodies did not look fresh.

You can pick up any narrative/dialogue wherever you want with it, Paul - even if it is Arbogast speculating as he lays by his family that night.

[Eclecticon]

Late that night, Arbogast walks by the shore of the Tarn letting Wilone grizzle and chew on his finger.  He stares out over the dark water and wonders.

Who were these Men, who buried their honoured dead so far from open and sunlit lands? He knows the lore of his folk as far back as their legends recall, and yet knows of none who have shared Mirkwood with them save the Wood-elves.  Perhaps they fled here from the Vales to escape the Great Plague, but instead brought it with them?  Or perhaps they are of some race of Men from an earlier age, now remembered only by Morirúsë and his ilk.  Radaghast may know.

He frowns at the night.  And if he does not, then the knowledge that the eldest of the River-maidens seems to want their resting place to be known may shed light on the riddle that gnaws at his mind...

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn went in search of Anar Grey Mountain. The dwarf was steady in battle and the two had spoken frequently through the long winter and Hathcyn hoped he would accompany them south in search of Grimbeorn and whatever journeys awaited them.

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn felt the joy of being on the move again. The forest road meant endless toil in it's own way, but the long strides of traveling showed the landscape coming and going in a way that filled him with contentment. An open land, a rough land, full of danger and opportunity, potentially hiding both joys and troubles alike. After being confined to the wood it also felt good to be in the open again, especially when the world began to wake up.

The first task, once they had cleared the dangers of the wood was to bathe. Despite the cold water of the spring the Longspear enjoyed the full immersion in the cold water. Sputtering and fuming he arose from the water. The rivulets erupting goose bumps on his flesh and his beard dripping with the grime of winter. The tributaries of the Anduin were far from warm, but they were still clean and wholesome. Chilled limbs were warmed by a peat fire and smoked clothes shed their vermin and pests.

Hathcyn pulled from the ale skin he had carried away from the road. The last of the winter beer, heavy with malt.

"This would not last us long anyway, might as well take all the cheer it has to offer in one sitting instead of doling it out league upon league. Giving only the memory of cheer and giving none on its own."

Harhold, his scars from the fight at the steading were still red with the newness of them, but he had healed, smiled and drank from his own as well.

"Wisdom indeed! We are far from there now, will you speak more freely now about the road than you did in the barracks?"

Hathcyn pondered a moment and thought on the question.
"The dwarves are like stone, they will endure and last longer. They are also stubborn, but like the stone they work themselves they can be shaped by steady hands or respond to the weather. They know their road will be more valuable and better layed than anything the woodmen can hack out. They have the thread of a road to work with. Sunstead will be logging raw woods, with stumps to boot. Also, they have no way forts and are closer to the dark tower. Their challenge is a great one."

Hathcyn reached for the fish they had speared on a three pronged stick earlier that day.

"The road maker has told me that they will share the profits of the road with those who have toiled on it longest. Not those who have come and gone for a season, but those who have put the work in. They keep records of who has come and when, as well as the gangs that have worked longest and best. It is a forward thinking goal for a folk who plan in equal detail for the present and the future. Also, our folk will prosper more with a dwarf road in the north than with the Woodmen in the south. I am told the only goods that would come that way would be from Esgalwen's people. And word from that way is of a coming war. My time last year with Grimbeorn taught me to say less in public and to think deeper, but we will see what he says and the road he will walk. A bear too knows when to get fat for a coming winter and when to range abroad."

[Eclecticon]

Just to be clear, we're waiting for Mike to post what Anar's up to, and for Doug to introduce Eomund, right?

[tomcat]

I was giving Mike some time to do that, yes, but I will be going forward later today (with or without his addition) with the next post and it will include the introduction of Jacob's character.

[GandalfOfBorg]

It was a lot to take in, thought Grimbeorn.  So much about him and his family but of the world about as well.  "Father did you have dealings with the elves of mirkwood?  What about tidings from the north, the Viglundings?  Have you any word of the gray wizard as well?"
-----
The man pondered a long while about the state of things and what's next, falling asleep doing so.  Ib the morning, he made preparations for seeking Rhosgobel and Radagast.  He related to his father his intentions, that he was taking the standard bearer with him, and off to see what was pressing their allies to the South for now even he recognized an ill scent upon the wind; it made the hair stand out.

[Paladin003]

Anar was overlooking a very old looking axe with strange markings on it when he was asked to join in the search. He wrapped the axe he was looking at in an old green cloth. Placed it in a nearby chest. Picked up his own axe that was leaning on the table he was sitting at and said with a grin,

"What are we waiting for?"