The Foothills

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn returned to the group. His pouch contained several eggs, as well as a large marmot.

"My trip was shortened by other hunters. The wargs are in the area I believe and if they havent noticed yet they soon will. We may want to start to keep two on watch."

Hathcyn said nothing directly towards Gwen about her absence in the night and the comments were not directed at her specifically.

"There may be other things to lure us away or something that seeks to divide us to be easier pickings for a pack of Wargs. Either way, two on watch is probably safer with one alternate so as not to overly fatigue us all on the journey."

[GandalfOfBorg]

Gwaithlim agrees with the idea. "Give me a couple hours and I will take the rest of the night."

[tomcat]

Though she knew Hathcyn made no insinuation to her troubles from the early morning, still it stung Esgalwen's pride. But the man made sense and there was wisdom in his plan, and so she nodded in agreement.

As the conversation continued about the apparent threats that they now faced, the Dúnadan woman put discretion aside and looked to the older Beorning, "Perhaps it is a good time to tell us what we seek, or where we go? I do not fear the road, or any of its travails, but it would help to know our purpose."

[Eclecticon]

At Esgalwen's words, Beorn remains silent, continuing to crack sticks for the fire between his mighty hands.  All eyes remain on him as he does so, however, and at last he heaves a sigh that almost threatens to blow out the first flickers of flame.  "I can't tell you," he says.  "I'm sworn never to speak of where we're going, and even if I wasn't, I likely wouldn't.  You'll see what you'll see, and you'll think what you'll think, and that's the end of it." 

While hardly satisfactory, Arbogast, Esgalwen and Hathcyn have travelled enough with the son to know that the father will not be convinced to share anything he does not wish to, still, the cast of Beorn's face, deep-lined beneath his bushy beard and wild brows, may speak words that his tongue will not. 

Gwaithlim, who has but little of the art of reading faces, pays little attention to the Skinchanger, lost as he is in musings on tales told in years past in the Hall of Fire in Imladris. 


Okay, Beorn's as stubborn and secretive as he always has been, but there's a chance to passively gain some information here.  The Men of the Fellowship get some Insight rolls (TN 14)...

Arbogast[/size]

1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 3d6 : 4, 3, 5, total 12

Esgalwen[/size]

1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 2d6 : 3, 3, total 6

Hathcyn[/size]

1d12 : 5, total 5
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 1, 6, total 13

...and Gwaithlim's Elven Lore lets him make a roll (TN 18) to see whether he's heard anything relevant:

Gwaithlim[/size]

1d12 : 2, total 2
Rolled 3d6 : 3, 4, 3, total 10

[Eclecticon]

The Fire-watcher's eyes are cunning, and Esgalwen has seen much of all the peoples of the Anduin vales from their northernmost beginnings to the very mouth of the great river, and each of them reads the deep unease in the Old Bear.  To Hathcyn, though, the older man is an open book.  For the Longspear has likewise committed grave misdeeds, and has stood thereafter before the judgement of his folk and kin knowing not what fate would before him.  Beneath his prodigious eyebrows, Beorn's eyes bear the same haunted look of a man waiting to be tried, and knowing that he will not long be waiting. 

The Lord of the Fox's Tale sets his mind to wondering.  Is this perhaps why Beorn carries with him no axe, nor spear, nor wears he any armour?  Does he walk this road, not as a wanderer or pilgrim, but as a penitent?


I'll move the story on when you're ready, but it strikes me that this kind of revelation might occasion more conversation, either now or after Beorn has turned in. 

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn sought to change the subject to preserve the dignity of the great bear.

"Perhaps then you can share with us something else? Our journey is long and the care of leadership no longer sits upon you. Why was it that went to the Battle of Five Armies, and why afterwards did you summon those willing of the people to the Carrock to draw them together?" 

[Eclecticon]

Oh man, no pressure!

[GandalfOfBorg]

Gwaithlim's ears perked up at the query of Hathcyn.  He was most curious about responses to these questions.  His folk were not there, though his distant kindred of the Woodland Realm was and little was shared by them.

[Telcontar]

  lol, i was thinking of an answer to this question on my ride home from work.

I may take a crack at this.

[Eclecticon]

I have an answer in going to give, when I get a moment.  PM me yours though, or drop it in the OOC thread.  I'm interested to hear what you came up with.

[Eclecticon]

"Perhaps then you can share with us something else? Our journey is long and the care of leadership no longer sits upon you. Why was it that went to the Battle of Five Armies, and why afterwards did you summon those willing of the people to the Carrock to draw them together?" 

Beorn growls, a deep rumbling in the depths of his chest.  "You don't know how much you've just asked the same question!  But this one I can answer, and it's answers you deserve, so this I'll say: it was time.  I'd build my house and I'd taken my wife and I'd fathered my son, and when Thorin the Dwarf-King, or whatever he was, and the rest came through I knew they'd bring trouble down from the mountains with them." 

He shifts around, easing himself toward the now brightly-burning fire.  "I wasn't wrong, either!  I thought the goblins would follow the Dwarves, and I'd started to exchange some good words with my neighbours, so I walked the rounds of the nearby steadings telling the folk that I found that they should arm themselves and come to my house.  I said that I could protect them if they just had the good sense to do what I told them to do." 

Warming to his tale, he breaks suddenly into a grin.  "What I didn't know is that the beasts of the mountains had already passed us by!  I ended up having to chase them, tracking them day and night through the narrows north of the wood and south of the other mountains, where the dragons came from, all the way to that valley south of the Dwarves' peak!  My word, but I was ready for a fight after all that!"  His smile broadens at the memory.  "And what a day that was!  When the sun went down and the last orcs standing took to their heels, I thought they mountains would be free of their kind for a generation!" 

His face darkens again, his brows lowering like storm clouds.  "Of course, I was wrong about that.  There's always more of them, and there always will be.  And I had to start on the way home that very night, before that king of a bunch of wet and freezing wretches decided to make me his thegn or some other fool thing.  When I did arrive home, I saw that word had gone around further than I meant it to, and whole clans were now gathered on my doorstep!  They looked to me to be some kind of leader and law-giver, and after I'd drank my fill of mead I found that I couldn't refuse them." 

He looks thoughtful for a while, and the companions grant him a few moments to gather his thoughts before he finishes.  "It's not been what I expected, I'll say that for sure.  But these last near-score years have been good ones for me.  I've seen my son grow to a fine man, and I've seen a scattered and frightened folk bind themselves together like a strong rope.  Their enemies are getting bolder in the north, and the orcs are massing in the mountains once more, but they hardly need me to tell them what to do about that!  And Grimbeorn's not a great leader, not yet, but he has good men about him who'll teach him, so he'll grow into it like I did, in the end.  There's nothing more I need to do at my home.  It's time again." 

[GandalfOfBorg]

Silently, Gwaithlim sat half-listening to the tale while his mind wandered elsewhere among great green forests, high stony peaks, and near deep pools of watery contemplation.  His thoughts ever came back to one question, "Time again but for what?"

[Eclecticon]

The following days' march continues the slow, snaking route higher into the slopes of the mountains.  The world has grown colder around them, the high peaks chasing away the warm air of the summer vales with winds that carry with them the scent of snow.  The Fellowship are glad of the cloaks that they draw tight about them, though Beorn seems untroubled and content to let his cloak of horse-hide flutter and snap as it will in the wind through the thinning woods. 

The trail chosen by Beorn and found, amid some false starts and back-tracking, by Arbogast, brings the companions beneath a ridge that rises some six or seven paces above their heads.  The wind has, blessedly, died down, to be replaced by the cool mists for which the range is famed.  Wary of an ambush and mindful that the nightly howling of wargs continues to accompany them, Esgalwen keeps a weather eye on what can be seen of the higher ground through the shifting, billowing white cloud.  Little can she mark, though, until the sudden rattling of falling stones alerts everyone to movement above. 

Seconds later, a stone easily the size of a grown man's chest comes crashing down, striking Beorn as he walks near the head of the group and smashing him to the ground.  The pained cry of the huge man blends with the angry bellows now sounding from above and echoing strangely back from nearby slopes.  For the seeming desolation of these higher slopes is in no small part due to the mountain trolls who make them their homes, and who will guard their territory with a ferocity terrible to behold. 


There's a combat thread coming very soon! 

EDIT:  But first, some preliminary Battle rolls:
Arbogast

1d12 : 3, total 3
Rolled 5d6 : 2, 5, 4, 4, 3, total 18

Esgalwen

1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 2d6 : 2, 3, total 5

Gwaithlim

1d12 : 4, total 4
Rolled 2d6 : 4, 3, total 7

Hathcyn

1d12 : 6, total 6
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 4, 1, total 11

[Telcontar]

  Beorn, message for you sir.

[Eclecticon]

That's one bonus die for Arbogast, two for Hathcyn and our first of the adventure...