SCENE 2: Home, sweet home

[BrianM]

The dúnedan dismounted and led his horse across the courtyard. As he handed the reins to the stableboy, he patted the boy's shoulder with his free hand, saying "thank you" with a warm smile. The boy, noticing the difference between the demeanor of this visitor and the previous two, returned the smile as he led the horse away to be watered and fed.

Spotting the three men standing near the front of the house, the dúnedan walked that way. He wore travelers clothing, well worn and dusty from much use it appeared. His shoulder length brown hair was somewhat disheveled, and it seemed that this was a man who spent more time concerned with matters other than his personal appearance. His keen blue eyes held amusement behind them, and they appeared to miss little as they studied the two men. The dúnedan's smile was genuine, and it had the effect of putting others at ease.

<insert Durgil's greeting from the previous post>

The man replied, "Good day to you sirs. My name is Pethron. I seek Durgil, lord of this manor, as well as his traveling companions, recently returned from the east." Facing Durgil, Pethron added, "Are you he?"

[OOC small edit - there are *three* standing at the front of the house]

[GandalfOfBorg]

"Yea, verily I am the manor's lord whom you seek and these are some of my companions.  What might I or we do for you, Master Pethron?"

[BrianM]

"I am a historian and scribe, and if it pleases you I would like to record the details of your company's journey through the wilds, and into the east, and back again. While there are indeed many of Arthedain who have travelled abroad, few return with such tales to tell. It is important that we retain the knowledge that can be learned from foreign lands and the people that live in them.

In exchange for your tale, I offer my own services as a storyteller, to entertain you, your companions and your kin."

[tomcat]

[OOC:] Not trying to be a pain in the ass here, but still no advancement picks for Fengel and Dirnhael. I know Shawn and Paul have been busy, but I don't want to forget this so I will do the picks if not done by Wednesday.

[Palandil]

OOC: Ouch that hurts!  Oh, its just Doug...   
No seriously, I'll get it done tomorrow.  What was that bonus that Harizan had during our final battle.  Warrior born?  I was thinking about that as one pick.

[sdrotar]

[OOC:] I awarded an advancement at the end of the last chapter, and Fengel and Dirnhael have still not been updated. Let me know how you wanna spend your picks, guys.

OOC: I'd like to add one level in each of the following skills (figuring they reflect what Dirnhael's been doing lately):
Track (Orcs) - add specialty
Siege-craft
Debate
Inspire
Intimidate

Thanks! Should I update the page or would you like to?

[sdrotar]

"I am a historian and scribe, and if it pleases you I would like to record the details of your company's journey through the wilds, and into the east, and back again. While there are indeed many of Arthedain who have travelled abroad, few return with such tales to tell. It is important that we retain the knowledge that can be learned from foreign lands and the people that live in them.

In exchange for your tale, I offer my own services as a storyteller, to entertain you, your companions and your kin."

Dirnhael laughed heartily and clapped the man on the back hard. "Then I hope you brought many sheaves of paper, my young friend! You'll be writing for months!"

[GandalfOfBorg]

Durgil thought a moment.  "It would be easier than any of us detailing our journeys... and it would serve well for the king's court to get the whole story.  Alright, come on it and let us judge your talent," he said with a smile.

[BrianM]

Pethron, a bit shocked by the slap on the back, managed a grin as he turned to Dirnhael. "Do not worry", he replied, patting his satchel, "I have enough ink and parchment for a good long tale."

The scribe was relieved at the acceptance of his offer. He had learned from past experience that travelers to distant lands quite often endured such hardships that they were unwilling to tell their tales or have them recorded for others to experience. But these men seemed more than willing to tell their story. What's more, there was more than one source of the tale, which meant a more accurate recounting, and smaller chance of details being 'stretched' by the teller.

"My colleagues in Fornost are particularly interested in details of events closer to home. Specifically, the tale surrounding the taking and eventual loss of Barad Eldanar. I on the other hand, am eager for tales from the east, beyond the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood the Great, for it is said you have journeyed that far. These are lands I have never visited, and I am keen to capture their essence in words."

With an appraising look at Fengel, Pethron added, "I heard tell that a man from these very lands has come to Arthedain! I would gladly hear any tales from your homeland that you are willing to tell."

[Palandil]

With an appraising look at Fengel, Pethron added, "I heard tell that a man from these very lands has come to Arthedain! I would gladly hear any tales from your homeland that you are willing to tell."

Fengel's people didn't think much of books, they were a simpler race who mostly carried on their history and culture through song.  But he thought this might be entertaining at least.
"After a few pints of ale, I might be able to spin a few tales."  He said with a smile.  "Does your quill come with a sword Pethron?"

[BrianM]

Pethron returned Fengel's smile. "I have travelled more widely than most of my peers in Fornost, and have been forced to defend myself as a result. Words are a powerful weapon, but a sword is much better in the wild."

[Palandil]

"Well hone your sword skills scribe, then if you stick around long enough, perhaps you may experience one of our many adventures first hand."  Fengel laughed.

[GandalfOfBorg]

As they enter the house, Durgil gives instructions to have a guest room made available for the new arrival and another plate at the table set.  He then introduces the young storyteller to his sister.  After they've supped, everyone retired to the common room and sat about patiently to hear a yarm spun by the newcomer.

[BrianM]

Pethron was delighted to be introduced to the lovely Ioreth. He had heard the news of her bethrothal to Methilir, and although he was careful not to show it, the scribe was deeply saddened that she was destined to wed such a horrid man. As he kissed Ioreth's hand in greeting, the scribe took note of Dirnhael's reaction, and he knew for certain that this was the man rumoured to be her true love, returned from the wild. It was obvious where their hearts resided, and Pethron secretly hoped that in the future he would be able to tell their tale with the happier of the possible outcomes.

----------

After dinner was ended, and the group sat around the fire in the common room, Pethron launched into a story of bravery and renown from the early history of Arnor. He picked one of his best, epic tales, hoping to impress his audience, and thus inspire their own tale which he desired to record.

[OOC]
Perform (Tell Story) +5, +2 specialty, +1 affinity bonus for Lore: History
Roll(2d6)+8: 4,5,+8 Total:17
Spend 1 Courage for +3 Total:20
[/OOC]

[tomcat]

The loremaster sat by the fireside, softly puffing on a pipe and began the tale of Carandil and Jeneth. Carandil had been a tall and noble Dúnadan lord that had returned from the wars of the Great Alliance - one of the few who had survived the disaster at the Gladden Fields.

Jeneth was a beautiful young maiden who had only come to her age of maturity when Carandil had returned to Arnor. The two met and the young woman empathized with the soldier and she fell in love with him. He was immensely sad and lamented his failings in trying to save his lord and king. To Carandil, Jeneth was a boon. She took away his guilt and sadness and made him feel alive once more.

Pethron's tale was rich with detail and the words flowed from him as a song from a minstrel. They were vibrant in color and sense and slowly the listeners could see in their minds the rich lands of old Arnor and the pride and strength of the Dúnedain of old. On occassions Pethron's voice would climb to emphasize or he would reduce it to a whisper, as the wind softly blowing, and Durgil and his friends were engrossed with the story.

The tale continued with Jeneth's father not approving of such an older man asking favor of his youngest daughter and forbade Carandil to see her. But their love was to great, and so in defiance, Jeneth ran from her home and to the arms of her lover. To further escape, Carandil took his young love and they rode north, out of Annúminas and into the wilder lands of northern Arnor. It was his goal to take her to a place where none would know them and he could at last be free of his pain, and make a home and her his wife.

Pethron told how the couple faced many perils along their way, for though Arnor had been a mighty kingdom, its northern frontier was still dangerous and wild. But Carandil was strong and brave and his sword was heavy - both beast and orc fell before him and at last the two found a place where they could settle.

Carandil built for them a home and he tilled the fields for them to grow the food they needed. Jeneth set about making a home and soon was with child. She began to lament her running away and in her heart grew the desire to see her father. She wanted him to know she was well, and happy, and to meet her future child. And so, a suuny day while Carandil was working in the fields, Jeneth slipped into the stable to take up their mount to make the journey back to Annúminas.

Unfortunately, the girl was not well-traveled and soon found herself lost and in trouble. In the northern forests, she was set upon by wolves led by a great warg and though the horse that she rode had been trained in battle, it too was overwhelmed. Jeneth was brought to the ground and the warg bit her, poisoning her with its evil bile. It would seem that she would soon meet her end, there and then, but the wolves and the warg were suddenly panicked by the coming of an Elf. The pack fled in terror before the Eldar.

The Elf lifted the young lady and he knew that she was dying. Jeneth could see sadness within the Elf's face and she spoke, "Fear not fair Elf, soon will come Carandil and he will know what to do."

Hearing her words, the Elf took her and laid her besides a pool of water that was at the base of a forested hill, and was fed from a clear spring above. He bathed her forehead and tried to reduce the burning fever that was raging in her form, caused by the poisonous bite. Carandil would come, but it would be to late. The Elf left Jeneth lying there and laid an enchantment upon the glade so that no thing would disturb her resting place, and once done, he disappeared into the woods.

The soldier saw his young wife laying by the pool and knew she had passed. With tears in his eyes, he too lay down and never left her side. The Elf had stayed close and watched from a distance as the man died with his love, from the breaking of his heart, and it filled the Elf with sadness.

"The glade is said to still be there, and nothing can disturb the peace that seems to rest in that place," Pethron said, finalizing his tale.

All of his listeners had been enchanted and it took a moment for them all to realize that the loremaster had stopped speaking. Dirnhael let out a breath and looked to see that Ioreth had rested her hand upon his, and that tears had recently made traces down her face. She looked at him with a smile and then she stood, "Master Pethron, your tale was superb. But now I must be off to bed, for the daylight will soon be here, and I must be ready."

She nodded to Fengel, hugged her brother, and gave Dirnhael a look that told the warrior all he ever needed to know. Somehow, he would find a way to end Methilir's demand on her. The room grew quiet once more, with Ioreth gone - the four men looking at one another...