Gathering

[Telcontar]

Gumbo waves the Lakeman off, "I'll be here for a bit yet, some particulars of the journey and the route I would like to go over in a bit more detail. Caramir, what passage could you arrange through the wood for the company or connections do you havewith the men of the vales?"

[sdrotar]

The door to the small room creaked open, exposing a disheveled, downtrodden-looking Dwarf. He wore a suit of fine Dwarven mail and even though it was not clean, the quality of it was clear. He shuffled into the room sheepishly, using the handle of his large axe as a walking stick; avoiding the gaze of everyone in the room.

Vári was his name, and he was young (for a Dwarf). Barely more than a stripling when the last war between the Dwarves and Orcs ended, he had served with honor as a scout, and some thought his talents in the art of war would soon become very formidable at the time. But there were no more wars to fight, and after Vári returned to the lands near Khazad-dum, he was a man without a purpose. Though he had a knack for working with stone, like many Dwarves, he had little desire to do so; the crafts that often defined the Dwarves rarely held his attention. His family - what few there were - had no real standing; they were commoners and had come to accept their lot in life.

So too had Vári, who eventually came upon this town with little more than the clothes on his back, questioning what purpose he had in this world. While he took little pleasure in it, he was able to sustain himself by taking odd jobs around town, using his skills as a handyman and fixer of homes, but he was now a joyless Dwarf, beaten down by a life that looked to be forever mundane.

Word had come to him that Dwarves of a once-great line had come to this town, looking to find either the fearless or the foolhardy to join them on a quest of glory and redemption. The former held some interest for Vári, but it was the latter that compelled him to come to the tavern, though he was not sure that he should have.

He finally mustered the courage to look the elder Dwarf in the eye, and his voice wavered as he spoke.
"I am Vári," he said, "a simple Dwarf of this town. I was raised near Khazad-dum and fought in the last war there years before. While I am a humble repairer of homes, I have nothing here to gain. I am still young and hale, and if my axe and my gumption can aid my fellow Dwarves, then I offer to you my services."

Vári quickly looked down at his feet again.
He tried to remind himself that he had nothing to lose. If they succeeded - at whatever it was they were doing - perhaps his life could still hold some meaning, and he could find happiness once more. If nothing else, the adventure might rouse his spirit. But if worse came to worse, and he never came back from this journey, he found it hard to believe that he would find it anything less than a sweet release from a life unfulfilled.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Nori's eyes perked up to see a dwarf come to seeing to give aid in their quest and it even showed in his voice.  "Welcome and please sit.  I am Nori, son of Dori, and this is my uncle, Kori."  In a low voice, "Your appearance is well-met for I was afraid we were doomed to travel without proper companionship on such a venture.  I don't know if you noticed but we have Men, a Halfling, and an Elf, no less.  I hope you can abide companions such as these."

[sdrotar]

Nori's eyes perked up to see a dwarf come to seeing to give aid in their quest and it even showed in his voice.  "Welcome and please sit.  I am Nori, son of Dori, and this is my uncle, Kori."  In a low voice, "Your appearance is well-met for I was afraid we were doomed to travel without proper companionship on such a venture.  I don't know if you noticed but we have Men, a Halfling, and an Elf, no less.  I hope you can abide companions such as these."

"While I have little experience in such matters, I am wise enough to know that trusted companions can come in many shapes and sizes, and one's loyalty is more important than one's land of origin."

He believed it, and why not? He had few options available to him anyway, and he was no position to argue about anyone who would have him as a part of their company.

[tomcat]

Kori was pleased with the appearance of Vári, for few minutes he was feeling overwhelmed by the number of non-Dwarves that were joining in his campaign. Though he needed all of their help, this was still a Dwarf matter.

He stood, "We welcome you into our company." Then to all, "Again, we leave with the morning light of the day after tomorrow. Tend to your needs but return here tomorrow eve... we will celebrate with a feast to send us off!"

The craftsman's mood was beginning to lighten and a broad smile cracked upon his face. Though he was pleased with his uncle's delight, Nori who stood by, was concerned by the announcement of a feast. The coffers were only so deep!



[OOC:]

OOC:Is there anything going on in laketown in the next couple days?  If not, Beren will probably rest, or go to a weapons shop.

There is not too much going on in Laketown at this time Elrohir. It is still the month of March and so winter is holding on with what it has left, and spring has yet to make an appearance. Due to this, seasonal festivals are still a few weeks away - and also, the town does not get to active so as to not invite any trouble from the new neighbor up north... Smaug!

[tomcat]

Gumbo eyed the stack of scrolls behind Kori and wondered what the leather cases contained. He figured that the Dwarves had to have a map of the region - it would be useful in planning their route. All the while, the halfling waited to learn what Caranmîr knew of the regions around and within Mirkwood.

[sdrotar]

Vári managed a smile; he would leave this town, and face his fate with axe in hand once more.
That night, he went to his hovel and looked around for things to pack - but there was nothing of value there for him to bring.

That next morning, Vári gave what little he had to the beggars on the street and returned the key to the front door to the Man whom he had rented it from, keeping only the coins in his pocket, clothes on his back, his armor and his axe as his own.
He left the town the way he arrived, and lamented the loss of nothing.

It was time to start anew.

[Cut]

Caranmîr was still very exited about this new opportunity so that he nearly missed the Haflings question "Carnamir, what passage could you arrange through the wood for the company or connections do you have with the men of the vales?"
He turned to face Gumbo, recalling the greeting Gumbo offered, Caranmîr was still impressed of the Halfling command of the elvish tongue of Sindarin. "Master Gumbo, I am afraid that I do not have any real connection to the men of this town, neither to Men at all. Aside from Beren here, I have had little dealing with the people of this town." Caranmîr paused, "as to your second question, I am not quite sure, what passage I could arrange through the Woodland Realm, aside from my knowledge of the territory...Now I would like to ask you a question myself. That would be how did you learn to speak a language of the elven People?"

[Elrohir]

OOC:Beren would like to go to a weapons' shop.  Before he leaves he needs to say goodbye to his father.  After that he will pretty much hang low untill it is time to go. 

[Cut]

Not really sure what to do with himself in this town of Men, Caranmîr didn't want to part company at once. So he asked all the people left in the room: "What is it, that you are going to do, until we set about our journey?"

[Elrohir]

Before leaving Beren looks over to Caramir and says, "I am going to my fathers house to say goodbye and to gather my things.  Than I am going to a weapons shop to see if I can get a dagger or something.  You are more than welcome to join."  Beren just remembered he had left all his things for the journey at his fathers house.

[Telcontar]

"Caramir, you do not have the look of a warrior in speech or in bearing. Beren mentioned however that your brother was a Borderer of some kind. We would only need safe passage through cleared route, the woods are not welcoming to strangers at all though some of its dwellers can be helpful if they were to choose to. We need to know a safe route through the woods, not an armed guard to take us through. As for the mastery of Sindarian, my people come from the far west, not very far from Lindon, in fact our lands come to the foot of the Minas Emyn, the Tower Hills. The parties of departing elves have frequently crossed our lands on their way to the see and they often meet with the Big folk or range upon the borders of the land. It was from these peoples and my father that I learned the basics of the language, it is after all still somewhat considered the language of the educated. My mastery came under the tutledge of Groin of the House of Durin, a Lord among his kin. They will not speak their tongue to any other but their own kind, and Sindarian is the most common language to speak after westron if one desires to be understood. I am told that many in Gondor still speak it as a daily language."
Gumbo then turned to Kori, "Captain, is there a a map among those papers you possess of the wood or of the vales of the Anduin on the otherside? The route we choose will determine the risks that we may face as well as the nature of any dangers other than Orcs that we might encounter, as well as the food supplies necessary for the trip, and places we may find sanctuary along the way. There are many that travel here to Laketown, though the numbers are far fewer since the vile Smaugs arrival. Still there are those here that might tell us names and holdings along the way where we may stop for the night, or trade a broken beast. The wild lands are not totally lacking in people or beasts, despite what maps might indicate."

[donimator]

Turumarth strode purposely through the streets since spotting the notice. His trepidation at returning to Esgaroth after some time left as he saw hope for adventure. The streets seemed small and closed in - as one feels after returning home from a long journey abroad. Turumarth's journey had been more one of the soul. He was different from the boy who grew up here. He had learned things, seen things, fought beside those that many in this town could only imagine. He walked with purpose, confident that this next turn in his life was the one he had always been preparing for.

The door of the inn swung open quickly as the eager traveller stepped forward. To some he may have looked a young boy, framed against the shadow of the waning day. But the light of the fire and lanterns revealed the lines of his face, the stains and scars that adorned body and gear, his cracked hands gripping a sturdy walking staff. Then came recognition from some, a puzzling look on those that turned wondering where they have seen him before. And with recognition came realization as most turned their backs to him - well aware of who his family was and his choices that led in part to their ruin. There were no calls of welcome, only a brief murmur as people turned back to their conversations.

Turumarth drew a sharp breath and stepped into the common room, his eyes quickly scanning those assembled. The notice had talked of dwarves, yet none seemed to be in the room. He pushed through the crooked aisle, taking care not to bang his bedroll on the backs of chairs, and made his way to the bar. Some local folk moved away giving him room as he asked for a Dorwinion vintage from the barkeep.

Hoping to avoid missing an opportunity, Turumarth looks to those around him, searching out a friendly face to inquire of the dwarves. He looks finally to the barkeep again, before he responds to his drink request. The words come out a little too loudly, but he quickly says, "I saw a posted notice seeking companions for adventure. We were to meet a company of dwarves here tonight. Are they still here or have I missed them?"

Looking for advantage if he has to press the barkeep for information, Turumarth watches his reaction carefully, trying to pick up nuances in voice or body that will tell how willingly he gives his answer -

Skill roll type/Description: Insight test to gauge barkeep's attitude towards Turumarth
Anticipated TN to achieve: TN 10 (Routine - indifferent subject?)
Dice mods: Skill - +4

Dice Roller results:Roll(2d6)+4:
6,4,+4
Total:14

[tomcat]

The bartender was tall and thin, his face a mask of indiference towards Turumarth. His hand was deep in a mug swabbing it out with a linen that needed to be cleaned more than the cup that it dried. Still the man answered the mage's question, gesturing with a nod as he did, "You'll find them down that hall in the first room on the right."

Turumarth turned to see a hall that led back out of the common room, into the inn. He pushed his way through the guests that clamoured about and made his way to the Dwarves chamber.

Inside the room, Kori looked at Gumbo and then hesitantly turned to the scroll cases that lay stacked behind him. He untied the two ends and then rolled open the leather binder. An elegant map of northern Mirkwood and its surrounds was revealed. Gumbo marveled at the cartographer's skill and Caranmîr also took immediate interest in the parchment. Middle-earth stretched far and wide but seeing all of its features captured on one piece of paper made all take pause.

Nori and Vári stood back as the others crowded around the table. Kori pointed to Laketown and then traced down the eastern edge of Mirkwood, "The main road through Mirkwood lies here. It is said that a northern passage is present though one can easily stray afoot... unless our Elven friend knows differently? It is my intention to take our road south and then across the forest by the main road, then south from there. What do you think?"

Beren, needing to attend to the tasks at hand, pulled away from the table to let the remaining Company members decide their course. Nodding to Nori and Vári, he turned to the door opening it just as another man was about to knock.

Kori took notice of the new stranger and his secretive nature took over, "Eh? Who is this?" All the while, the Dwarf drew closed the scroll case.

[donimator]

Turumarth gathered himself as he slipped quickly from the bar, not even bothering to receive his drink. He stepped lightly over the old wooden floor, his mind racing with what he would find. A moment's pause to collect himself was interrupted by the opening door and the appearance of a huge warrior. Turumarth took a step back in surprise, lost for words, as he looked to the man and vainly searched the room beyond.

His eyes locked on an elf and words left his lips in surprise, "Caranmîr? Suilad! Man le carel sí? _{(Sinda. - "Caranmîr? Greetings! What are you doing here?).}

Seeing the other faces turned expectantly he peers around the warrior and looks to the dwarf with the map. "I am Turumarth...I am answering the posting."