RPG.avioc.org

:ooc: Okay - we had our introductory post for this new chapter and year. My initial thought with the end of Paul's run as Loremaster was to take us straight to 2956, but I am not going to do that. Even though the DoM adventure phases for 2954 and 2955 are kind of repetitive, I am going to make something of these two years. That said, they might be simple and quick, or long depending on where you take the narration.

With the end of 2953, we had a YE Fellowship phase and I also gave one for the early months of 2954. So, we will only have one more Fellowship phase in 2954 and that will be for year end.

Our new chapter starts at the end of May 2954 T.A.

---

The sun was high in the afternoon sky and the early day was already warm. The month of May was almost over and already the summer promised to be hot.

He sweated under the heat - his armor and riding gear offering little relief. His name was Eomund and he was a stranger to these lands, though they were not unlike his home. Though taller than the ones he knew, the Misty Mountains seemed a familiar sight. And the forest, well it was just as dark and looming as the Forest of Fangorn where he grew up. The man was of Rohan and he had traveled far for a dual purpose - to see his brother, Leofric, who was betrothed to one of the daughters of the Woodmen clans; and the second was to find buyers of his horses.

Eomund knew his history well - that the Rohirrim had originally come from the far north of these lands, following Eorl the Young to the aid of Gondor. The gift for their service was the green fields of Rohan, but surely these folks of the Vale knew that the squat beasts they rode were not horses... at least not real horses. The shaggy, muscled, ponies that were common to the region made the Rohirrim smile to himself. Surely these folk would see the value of his fast and durable steda that he bred in the south.

The Rohirrim had just finished talking with a smithy that had sued for his business, wanting to re-shod Eomund's mount, but the horse needed no new shoes for the now. Instead, Eomund asked a few questions and received his answers, though they were curt. It seemed the smith's friendliness went only as far as the offer of business.

From his place in the shade, Arbogast wondered at the stranger. The Fire-watcher was familiar with the Men of Rohan - tall, fair-haired, and excellent horsemen, but he had only met a few. Why was this man so far north?

Yet, Rhosgobel had become a place of travelers - much to the Brown Wizard's chagrin. The hermited, old man liked his privacy, but the growth of camaraderie of the Vale had made the small town a central stopping point for many on the road... especially those looking for answers. It was this reason that Arbogast had come once more - the winter had brought strange tidings and he knew that for the safety of his family and home, he must seek answers.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the gate - both Arbogast and Eomund turned to see - but only the Fire-watcher's face broke into a smile. There entering the gate was two tall Beornings - one very familiar to the man - along with a Dwarf. It seemed that Arbogast's desire to make once more for Rhosgobel was not shared solely by himself.

He stood and situated himself, as he strode to meet his boon companion - Grimbeorn.

The Rohirrim continued to watch as the quartet converged and shared warm greetings. Maybe they would be interested in buying a horse? he thought as the large man took the other in a great bear hug.

(https://rpg.avioc.org/webimages/lotr/tor/rhosgobela.jpg)

The two Men present a marked contrast as they embrace, one broad-chested and tall, the other slight and lanky.  The greetings they exchange in the tongue of the Anduin Vales sound simultaneously familiar and strange to the Eorling's ears before the pair switch to Westron speech for the benefit of the nearby Dwarf. 

"So, your father has returned," Arbogast finishes his thought.  "This is good.  Ably have you led your people, from what I have heard, but our company needs your sharp axe and broad shield as much as it ever has!" 

His face growing abruptly serious, he continues: "Tell me, what is come over the Spring of the war between your people and Viglund's folk?"  Though he does not say as much, it is clear to those woh know him best that he sees a wide board in his mind, and seeks to know the disposition of each of the pieces.


:ooc: EDIT: I just realised that it's a possibly little obnoxious to start RPing over Jacob's opportunity to introduce Eomund.  Feel free to just jump in, mate.

 :ooc: doug, at the chapter heading can we get a quick mechanical summary added? Maybe something like number of Fellowship Points available party, party roles.... the things that we tend to forget about.

 :ooc: absolutely no worries eclection.

Eomund smiled as he saw the two men embrace, glad to know two of the men were at least friends. He quietly and cautiously approached them, smiling, letting their conversation finish before he spoke..

"Hello there! I am Eomund, son of Aethelwulf."

:ooc: Just to clarify for continuity... Arbogast did not approach and embrace Eomund. The Rohirrim is a stranger in these lands and this is his opportunity to introduce himself.

Arbogast approached his friends and he and Grimbeorn gave an embrace and then started asking him about what has been going on since the end of Fall and the northern battle that occurred.

 :ooc: sorry about that misunderstanding, I misread is all.

Grimbeorn was glad to see his friend again, thankful that the darkness hadn't taken him as has been the wont of the world these days.  All too many have been lost to in the wilds and fell creatures on his travels south, confirming his father's stories so long ago at his return.  "What brings you thither to seek out the Brown Wizard?  What are the tidings of your lands?"
---
Still not overfond of strangers, Grimbeorn remains quiet, letting his more talkative friends answer the man of the south.

Hathcyn, as if by an cunning act of summoning, already had one hand filled with a cup.

"So this is realm of beast and wizadry!" He proclaimed a little too loudly for those in his immediate vicinity.

"I expected to see a lofty tower and elves with overflowing goblets, a floating pillar of a beacon of white light. The hall of Beorn has more enchantment in the nectar of bees alone than this wood pile."

Hathcyn laughed and slapped their woodman friend on the arm.

"Becareful Wolfslayer, for you have asked a direct question of the fire watcher. His response shall indeed be thirsty work for us both and a trying ordeal for my ears for both are forced to listen together and unable to take his tales in turn."

"Though truly I am sure you may have news we want to hear, and your coming has saved us a longer trek to find you. Anar was growing tired of birds and game anyway. Maybe their is a lamb or sausage to be found that hasn't been ensourceled and turn is into bushes or Woodmen."

The tall man sipped deeply of his mug and his eyes drank in the layout of the village.

 
 :ooc: Hathcyn has never been this far south so he will joke and chide with his friends, but also take keen interest in the layout of the village and any thing he may mark as noteable.
Awareness Roll:

 :ooc:  :csu: great success.

Quote from: Telcontar on Dec 15, 2018, 06:19 AM:ooc: doug, at the chapter heading can we get a quick mechanical summary added? Maybe something like number of Fellowship Points available party, party roles.... the things that we tend to forget about.

:ooc: Hey Tom, that is why I updated THE FELLOWSHIP (https://rpg.avioc.org/boards/index.php?topic=1581.0) thread to keep this data always at easy reach.

Is it more convenient to open each thread with the current count?

Let me know.

 :ooc: Nope. I know we talked about putting it somewhere i did not recall where.

Arbogast, who before his meeting with Grimbeorn has not spoken a dozen words together in days, looks quizzically at the brash Beorning before seeing the humour in his words.  He gives an ironic nod as he says "indeed, a brief tale is often the best when the sun is high in the sky and there is work to be done.  So, then: the folk of Black Tarn Hall endure still, though the winter be hard as ever.  But something is yet amiss with the eldest of the River-maidens, for she goes abroad on land and has led hunters to a cairn filled with the ancient dead and their treasures." 

"We have heard too that the master of Sunstead seeks to build a road across the narrows and is paying in gold. Perhaps this cairn and ancient gold are connected somehow. I wondered how such riches would come from a town at the edge of the wood.

"Perhaps, though the Master of the Sunstead has shown in the past that he has coin aplenty to press into eager hands when the mood takes him.  There are graves of kings of old to be found near his people's lands," he adds, and a shadow passes over his face as he recalls the desperate battle fought beneath the barrows.  "Little would it surprise me to learn that some of his followers have broken them open to recover ancient treasure." 

At Eomund's introduction, Arbogast turns and regards the newcomer.  He is nearly as tall as Grimbeorn, though perhaps narrower at the shoulders, with a bow-legged gait that Arbogast has heard of among the Leofrings in the far southern vales but never before seen.  His cloak and shirt of mail both show the signs of a long journey, but are clearly well-made, with something in their lines speaking of a kinship to crafts of the the folk of Wilderland.  A plume of fine horse-hair rises from the helm that he holds in the cook of his arm.  And the horses!  Tall and noble-seeming beasts they are, that would be a fitting mount for any thegn of the plains or dale-lands. 

"Welcome then, Eomund, to Rhosgobel," he says, bowing his head in a somewhat formal greeting as the knot of conversation opens to admit the newcomer.  "I am the Fire-watcher.  With me are Hathcyn the Longspear, Anar of the Iron Hills and Grimbeorn, son of Beorn."  Glancing again at Eomund's mounts, he adds "I must congratulate you on bringing such creatures this far into the wood, for mighty as they are, I am told they mislike the narrow and shadowed ways of the forest." 


:ooc: Edited slightly to make the conversation flow better. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you all. I am certainly glad to be here. Have you met my brother Leofric? He is betrothed to one of the women of Rhosgobel, Helva."

Hathcyn shrugged his shoulders.
"I know few Woodmen other than the Firewatcher. Though this village is small shouldnt be to hard to find either.

So, does one seek an audience with a wizard or what to be called on?"

"Ah," says Arbogast, his face brightening at the mention of a familiar name.  "I had heard that Helva was to marry a man from southern lands, but had not thought that his kin would be coming here, instead of she venturing south to meet them.  But no matter - come and share food and ale!  Doff your armour too, if you will, for within this brown hedge you are as safe as any man in Middle-Earth." 

To Hathcyn's question, he answers "perhaps we might wait a while until all are refreshed, and the burrs combed from our beards, before we pay call on the Brown Wizard.  It would do no harm at all to introduce my kinsman-to-be to him, as well." 

"In any case," he says, waving towards a small copse of trees within the hedge, "he shall either be at home, in which case we shall find his cottage easily in the trees, or he shall not be, in which case... we shall not."

Eomund thought the conversation strange.

He had long heard tales of wizards and elves, but they were just that...tales. Yes, it was said that one of the Wise resided in the stone circle known as Orthanc, but the Eorling had never seen him, nor had he traveled to that ancient spire. Rhosgobel was a pleasant enough place, and the people were very welcoming, but home to a powerful wizard? He wondered. Yet was not the Golden Wood protected by a mage of great power? Were the bedside tales becoming a reality?

Grimbeorn spoke in his usual gruff manner, "Aye, the road was long and the dust needs washed from our throats. Let us make for the hall instead and see what we might find for food and drink."

With a series of nods, the quartet agreed and so they began to walk towards the longhouse upon which the town was centered. Arbogast looked back to Eomund and waved for him to join and so the four became five.

The Hall of Rhosgobel was open at both ends allowing a good breeze to cool the interior. Though the hearth was alight, it was only enough embers to allow the day's catch to be cooked. Two women stood by and rotated the large side of venison upon its spit. At the head of the hall was the chieftain's seat and it was occupied - Bivor Ør-grandr sat lightly within the chair, seeming uncomfortable with his station. He had been chosen from among the wise and fair in Rhosgobel to be the voice of the folk, when Radagast was not present.

The man was of average Woodman height, but he was great of girth, and his voice boomed when his spirit was up. He was quick to laugh and be merry, but a fire was hidden within that was dangerous when loosed. Still, Bivor was not chosen to take this seat because of bombast, more so due to his even thought and fair hand.

"So it is true!" said Bivor loudly as the five men entered the hall. "My gate ward sent word that the son of Beorn had come once more, but I thought the lad mistaken...too much time in the sun!" A great laugh escaped him at his own joke, "Yet here you are. Welcome, Grimbeorn son of Beorn!"

The thegn of Rhosgobel stood from his seat and strode across the hall to meet the party. The man took the Beorning's hand in a strong grip and shook it with vigor.

"The stories of your victory in Stánford are still popular talk around our fires! What brings you to Rhosgobel?" Bivor looked at the others, but only recognized Arbogast, to whom he quickly gave his attention, "Fire-watcher! You are here, too? How long have you been among us? How fares the Tarn?"

The man led them to a bench at the end of the long table and soon all introductions were made and questions answered. Bivor called to one of the servants within the hall, "Beer for our friends, they have traveled far."

---

:ooc: I am just finishing this post, Paul, and I do not know how long I had stated you were in Rhosgobel since our first thread so I might retcon Bivor's reaction to you. Obviously if you have been here a while, he has known about it.  ;)

:ooc: I did not clarify as to how long Arbogast has been here, so I am going to leave it as is. You might not have been here long, Paul, but this is the first time Bivor has seen you since you arrived.

Unless you say differently - I can retcon the post above.

:ooc: Eh, it's pretty much in character for Arbogast not to officially present himself straight away.

Or really at all.  (-D

Hathcyn frowned at the copse of trees that hid the Wizards abode.

"Tombs and Mirkwood is where we are headed is it? I am glad to have you with us Firewatcher. Your knowledge of the wood will be a great boon. I have been only in the northern eaves with Anar's folk, but even there it is good to have a Woodman about. The forest is strange to look upon, and even stranger still when one finds themself ensnared by its boughs. They say the Spiders come from this end of the forest and the deeper one goes the larger they get."

Arbogast's face is noncommittal as he answers.  "It may be that this is naught to trouble our sleep, and we need venture no further, but I have my doubts." 

Inside the great hall, once all have bread, meat and ale before them and Eomund has been properly introduced, he asks of Bivor, "know you aught of the Wizard's comings and goings?  Dark things stir both near and abroad, and much of what is of great significance goes unmarked by those who can see but little of it.  But Radaghast hears news from the birds and beasts, and little happens in Wilderland but that he knows of it," he adds, more for Eomund's benefit than anything else. 

Bivor fair-hand was smearing butter atop a fresh baked slice of bread that still steamed with heat and only stopped long enough to answer Arbogast.

"Master Radagast has been gone for some time now. It is never a surprise to us when he comes and goes, as few know the minds of wizards, but he entered his house when the flowers were still but buds on the trees." He smiled and took a big bite of his bread and Arbogast worried for the man's fingers. The thegn continued, "If you were to walk into that small wood, you would struggle to find his home - but then he suddenly appears and smoke can be seen rising from the small brick chimney that protrudes its roof! We do not anticipate the mage, but when he is here we take every advantage of his council."

Bivor looked around the table - four heroes of the realm were his guests, along with a stranger from far off lands. They all spoke of strange doings with the onset of summer. Rain still fell black, at times, from the sky. He nodded his head to some unspoken question and then, "Yes, I am certain that our benefactor shall appear soon.

"More bread?" He held the small crock of butter out to allow any of his guests easy reach.

:ooc: More to follow later tonight or tomorrow, but fill in with any other inter-character dialogue you might have.

The Fire-watcher accepts the butter and bread with gratitude, for, like all Woodmen, he has known hunger in the colder months, but also with some trepidation.  Each new winter seems harder, and hungrier, than the last, and I have never known the bodies of my family to be other than lean.  How is it that you have grown so? 

But then he thinks of the trinkets that he has seen adorning some of the clansmen out in the village, the silver that Bofri the Roadwarden and Rorin of Erebor have paid those willing to work on the Road and the gold that is newly come to his kin at Sweartmereseld.  Perhaps it is simply that new prosperity is slowly coming to the folk of the Wood?

Hathcyn's merriment increased with the arrival of food and drink. He admired the hall and studied the man who kept it. This was his first visit to a holding of the Woodmen.

OOC: Doug, anything from my awareness roll earlier?

"It's the same usual claptrap and bandying of meaningless words everywhere I go, no straight answers from men who should have them, even if it is a simple 'I know not'," muttered Grimbeorn. "Thegn, my companions and I have come far in search of answers to dark whispers and counsel on the paths to be taken.  You noted who we are, great in thew and command, and it in respect to our charges that we come here.  I ask that you lessen pomp and be plain with us in our dealings.  We are well aware of the furtive nature of Wizards and as he is not here, mayhaps you have tidings of the nearby lands that we haven't heard yet.  We will provide the same from our travels, for only when the wider picture is known may the keener questions be asked and best actions be taken."

At that he takes the crock and dips his bread to sate his hunger and quenches his thirst with the tankard in his other hand.

Hathcyn Longspear buried his mouth behind a mug, to conceal a laugh or to keep from speaking none were quite sure.

Grimbeorn did not speak often, but when he did it was to the point.

Anar wasn't being very social. He was busy reading an old book with a binding that looked as though it could fall apart at any minute.

"Anar! Try the food or the ale, you'll never swing an axe or a hammer on an empty stomach. We can not hunt for bread in the wild."

"Bivor, we have come far and the road was long. We have had great troubles of our own last year, some of which you may have heard of. We hope that we do not struggle alone or in silence. There are good folk in the vale and times are trying. We are here to insure that folk are outward looking, to see beyond thier own hedges, so we have come for the Beornings, Anar for the follk of the Mountain, and a soon to be kinsmen of the Firewatchers from the grasslands south. We have come for council, and while I do not have any dealing with Wizards any herder can tell you that the year before last was bad and this one worse. We havve bad year piled upon worse ones and the air itself sheds a black rain. We appriciate the bread and hospitality, but we hunger for understanding and news as well."

Closing the book which created a small cloud of dust around the Pages, he looked up and smiled,

"Aye. Old Anar can use a bite or two of food!"

Wiping his mouth of butter and honey, the large man took a draught from his cup too wash it all down and then he nodded.

"I appreciate your needs, Beorning, but I am no mage and thus cannot materialize the Brown Wizard - only he is able to do that." Hathcyn did not hear any condescension in the others words and thus took no offense. "All I can tell you is he entered his wood and has not been seen since."

"Yea - it was when the first black rain fell," another voice. Everyone turned to see one of the maids of the hall, as she gathered wood bowls to be taken to wash. "I heard him muttering something about dusk water, so I can only assume he was speaking of the river. Maybe he is there?" She shrugged and smiled, but then moved on.

"Yes," agreed Bivor, "he was muttering something about the river. Bad place, that. Dark is the banks of the Dusky. The fisher-folk say that a gloom seems to cling to the reeds and waters of their fishing holes, like a dark smudge. Yet it fades if approached. We need the water and fish, but I would not wish to make the journey each day."

Arbogast listened intently and thought of his home. The Black Tarn was also now plagued by a never-fading, dark fog that clung to its shores. He feared for his wife - though she was River-Blooded and said to be of the line of the River-Maidens - and his daughters, as they all found such joy playing within the shallows of the lake. The Fire-watcher was certain that he could not remove Lindwine from her home near the lake, even if he wanted to. He sighed as the conversation continued around him.

Nothing was settled, but Bivor stood and held out his arms, "Your renown follows you all and thus you are honoured guests! Rest a day...wait to see if the Brown Wizard returns, so as you might find your answers. It is only the onset of Spring and so many days of summer are before us - time to achieve many things before the winter is once more upon us. Yes?"

There was no arguing the point, and the five men nodded. They would wait a day or two, to see if an answer to their questions might come.

A day is all they would get.