CHAPTER 12 - Treasures of the Earth

[tomcat]

Are we still in Summer/Fall of 2957 or did the winter pass and we are picking up in Spring/Summer 2958? If the former, I will just consider Esgalwen's return north interrupted when she arrives at the Dwarf Road.

If the latter, I will add another narrative to her finalization of responsibilities in Dale - being actually excused from  those duties for her absence, even though she had good reasons (this ties to her Grim Year results, she is kind of shamed). If it is this latter situation, it will have been Tate that informed her that he had been contacted by her friends and that they had plans for some new excursion. Released from her duties in Dale, she returns west to the Vale.

[Eclecticon]

Hey, glad to have you back on deck.  It's now the summer of 2958.  Narrate as you will. 

[tomcat]

Paul, feel free to move the story forward. I will have a narrative post up today to bring Esgalwen back from Dale.

[Eclecticon]

The evening brings rain and a Ranger, the former soft and whispering on the thatch and grass, the latter footsore but jubilant at the sight of old friends.  The news of the day is rehearsed once again, and Esgalwen also finds herself surprised at the seeming abruptness of Grimbeorn's decision.  "Why," she says, "I have known since we met that you were your father's heir, but I suppose the weeks and months on the road together pushed that matter aside until I forgot about it.  Or else I assumed that the old bear would simply live and rule forever!" 

She also shares in the intrigue that surround's Arbogast's new venture, and so as the darkness gathers outside, the Fellowship draws away from the hearth, leaving the wood-workers to their ale and weary grumblings, to hold their council amid the chips and sawdust. 

"I have heard tales," the southern wanderer says "of kingdoms that rose and fell in Wilderland after my kinsmen withdrew west of the mountains.  The Dwarves who once dared the passage betwixt the northern wood and the Grey Mountains speak of treasures lost when a city of Men was abandoned, though whether buried and forgotten or simply carried away to lands far to the south, they do not know, or in any event do not say." 

Her eyes aglow to match the candle that burns in the centre of the table, she leans inward.  "Might your fair-haired skald, Grimbeorn, steer us on the straight road toward his people's lost treasures?" 

Arbogast, who has sat silent since exchanging his warm greetings, taps the table softly.  "Before we consider such things, I would have you all know why I ask this adventure of you.  You all know of the corruption of the River-maiden who dwells in the Black Tarn, and I need not retell my own tale in connection with her.  The Brown Wizard, having ventured perilously far into Mirkwood to consult the birds and beasts, the trees and the stones, has vouchsafed unto me that she is ensnared by a curse that binds her heart and twists it against her allies and kinfolk.  What is more, he believes he knows the author of this foul sorcery." 

Seeing that the full attention of his companions is upon him, he continues, his voice scarcely louder than the rain.  "It is the spider Tylquin, whom the Elves named for the Weaver.  I have known of her deviltry, and fear to contend against it, but this must be done if my home is to survive.  Fortunately," he continues, "such a creature of ancient blackness will never be without enemies.  Radaghast believes that in this case, her own kind might be turned against her.  So it is that, once we have a gem, bright and beautiful, to offer as a peace-gift, he and I intend to venture into the blackest heart of Mirkwood, and make our case before the Parliament of Spiders." 

[Telcontar]

"YOU WANT TO....you want to speak before the Parliament of Spiders? Are you both mad?"

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn gave Esgalwen a look of "we'll talk later" regarding her aghast query and she kept quiet on the subject.

"From what I know of Eorlingas, as what they call themselves in their tongue, they hail from a land farthest north.  They contended with dark powers of Mount Gram and Gundabad and even Angmar.  Monsters and wyrms of the mountains and desolation strove for the lands as well.  Long they endured until eventually plagues and draught sent their numbers from their home and they moved south.  From there, our friend of Gondor can fill in the rest I'm sure.  From those great and fell times, the only name I've heard of a great dwelling and hall was Fram and Framsburg.  As for that skald, like so many like him before, he did not return out of the north, at least not along our roads."

At the mention of the spiders and their bedeviled convocation, he gave the harshest of snarls.  "I cannot advise this course of action given our previous encounters.  Not to mention the lives of my people they have taken, including my mother.  If you go, I cannot follow."

[Telcontar]

"Surely there must be another way to break this curse. What is the nature of it? These fish women are woodland spirits, maybe we should go to the elves?"

"Fram, was he the northman who slew the wyrm? Are we hunting a dragon hoard?"

Hathcyn laughed, "Firewatcher, you have come from the south with fey tales and impossible quests have you lived off of mushrooms from lack of fish? But I will go north with you at least. This matter of the spiders needs more consideration. Especially if we find a living dragon and not a long dead one."

[Eclecticon]

"I know well what lunacy it seems that I speak," Arbogast replies.  "You are not the first to tell me so.  Lindwine," he pauses, mulling over the memory like a man running his tongue over a bad tooth, "had thoughts on the matter, and I am still uncertain how much she is won over." 

He spreads his hands.  "If you will come as far with me as the ruins of the horsemen's city, then that much I will accept for now."   

[tomcat]

What came before...

The winter had passed in Dale and now the trees bloomed with the coming Spring.

Tate walked the maze of side roads that led him towards the Market Square and the Missing Scale that sat along its southern edge. Next to the Scale was the small livery run by Artemis Hannigan - a stabling yard and smithy that cared for the many traveler's horses, oxen, or carts. He had heard that she was there and the bard did not want to miss her.

As expected, Esgalwen was in the stables tending to her horse. Tate had become accustomed to the Ranger's habits - always tending the animal prior to any long journey. Of course, it used to be that he had to make his way into the palace grounds where his friend had lived, but other news had made it to his ears.

"You are here. I figured you would be. So, is it true? I can only assume yes, as I find you here rather than in the palace stables."

Esgalwen gave a tired nod, as if she was weary from the constant questions. Still, a smile formed and lit up her face to see Tate. She liked the rogue - maybe she could like him more if she would allow herself to, but always the challenge of caste entered her mind.

"It is true. The King has graciously asked for my resignation." Tate could hear the sarcasm in her words.

"Was he angry, then? Does Bard get angry?" The second question was more a spoken thought than an intended question. The King of Dale had always seemed genial whenever he was addressing the people. Still, there were stories of the re-founding of Dale when Bard was quite serious of his role and displayed it so to Thorin Oakenshield, after the death of Smaug.

"Oh, I would not call it angry," said Esgalwen. "Perhaps disappointed is the better term. He lauded all that I have done for his city and how I have served in representation of Gondor far away, but he kindly told me that he had no use for a queen's guard that was not here."

"Well certainly he knew the reasons, yes?" asked Tate. "For the sake of stone, you were fighting to protect a village in the southern vale! You almost died from it, so I have heard. Our King could not offer you the slightest lenience?"

"No, Tate," sighed Esgalwen, "and I understand his reasoning. It is the same reason that I do not return home. To do so would fulfill a duty, but to do so would tie me there... and that is not yet my calling. Besides, he has confirmed to me that his patronage will continue and I will always be an honored guest within his court. He has told me that my services will always be appreciated and that Dale would always welcome my sword. He has even let me maintain a residence within the palace for times that I may be here for long durations."

"So you intend to leave again?" The question cut her off and had more meaning than seeking a simple answer.

She nodded. "I am. And where this next journey takes me, I cannot say. I will return to the Vale. My friends are there - family really - and I would help them to rebuild what has been lost." A smile, "You know, Tate, you can always join me."

"And leave all the pleasures of the city? I am adventurous, Lady, but only when there is a warm cup of spiced wine at the end of the day."

The woman laughed, "And a warm bed, I am sure."

The bard gave a wry smile of his own, "Well that goes without saying, Gwen."

"And instead of being a lady of the court, I am a lady of the grass and fields with ticks and fleas. Certainly not the company you would want to keep."

"I could see me looking past a number of things, Lady, but I would rather you enjoy the comforts of Dale instead of the root and knot of the field and forest."

She finished with the brushing of her horse and looked at her friend. There was something there, but she would not let him in. "We live two kinds of lives, Tate. Still, I will always look forward to your smile, your song and stories each time I return."

Tate walked up to her and took her free hands and looked her in the eyes, "I know, Gwen. But know that it would break my heart to see the world lose someone so fair. Be careful out there, all right? Leave the trolls to that giant bear of a man with whom you spend your time."

"I will," again she gave him a warm smile. Tate kissed her and then turned to walk away. Esgalwen watched him disappear into the market and then finished her preparations. An hour later, she rode through the city gates and left Dale and duty behind her. It grieved her to do so and to have lost her standing with the King, but her duty was to her friends.

Outside of Dale, Esgalwen joined up with a merchant train of Dwarves that were heading south to the Dwarf Road. From there, she would pass through Mirkwood and find her way back to where she belonged.

What goes on now...

"I fear you have received one too many blows to your head, Arbogast, for you have obviously forgotten our battle at the Roadwarden's Tower those years past. There, at least, we had Dwarf-wrought stone to stand between us and those horrid creatures. Now you would walk into their very den?"

Arbogast could offer nothing more than a shrug - his mind was set.

The Dúnadan breathed out a sigh but also gave a nod. "I will help you find this horsemen's city and from there to the parliament of spiders. If it will help restore your home where your children can grow in peace and safety, then yes, I will come."

[GandalfOfBorg]

"Aye, I will come on your quest but I would hope a more sensible course of action instead of the spiders appears," replies Grimbeorn.

[Eclecticon]

"My thanks to all of you," Arbogast says, sincerity plain upon his countenance. 


Great stuff, guys.  I'll move things on with a new thread (most likely tomorrow).