With the mid-days of August dwindling, Grimbeorn led his companions into his father's home.
They were tired and hungry; scratched and scarred; but pleased beyond all else to finally be within a village that warmly welcomed them. Beorn's folk had settled nearby, but none within the belt of oak-trees and thornhedges that surround his stead. A gate in the hedge led into the farmstead itself.
The companions were amazed by the wondrous animals that tended the home. Beorn's servants were strangely intelligent horses, and sheep and cows who could understand the speech of Men. Dogs, too, prowled around the outbuildings, and Grimbeorn stated that bears lived in the woods nearby.
A large gray mare approached them all and Grimbeorn spoke to it as if it were a person, "Duskdawn, is my father here?"
The horse whickered and allowed itself to be given a good scratch behind its ear, by the young Beorning. Its head moved up and down and it turned to look past the barn towards the apiaries. They all followed the animal's gaze and saw a giant of a man kneeling down and draining honey from some comb. Bees buzzed all around him, but if they stung or bothered Beorn, he did not show any evidence of it.
"Come," said Grimbeorn. "You must meet my father."
As he looks about the House of Beorn, Arbogast has to continually concentrate on keeping his mouth from dropping open. Not that the steading itself is remarkable - the surrounding hedge and the lines of the large hall are both comfortably familiar, though the hall is visibly younger than the great hall of Woodmen-Town.
But the inhabitants are, to the Woodman, wondrously strange. The Fire-watcher has heard from travellers' tales, and from Grimbeorn himself when in good humour, of the creatures that served Beorn the Skinchanger, but had thought them fantasies, or at least greatly exaggerated. Yet here they are in the flesh - sheep and goats nibbling the hedge so as to keep it trimmed and shaped, dogs going about on their hind legs as Men do, and the bees - long and thick as his thumb - that constantly buzz hither and yon about their business.
When Grimbeorn urges the company toward his father, what can Arbogast do but follow him?
Beorn looked quizzically at the group that approached. He knew who they were the moment the bee-friends espied them at distance away from the homestead, but was still curious about them. He handed over the honey to one of the dogs and rose to greet them. Before he could say anything, Grimbeorn spoke first. "Greetings, father. I see her highness is cooperating again."
"Greetings? Greetings? You come home with this motley crew and all you can say is 'Greetings'?" With that he envelops his son, who is almost his same size, in a great bear hug. The youth grunts and grimaces a bit at this gesture as his recent wounds still bother him once in awhile. "It is good to see you, boy. You at least know how to invite guests proper, unlike a wizard or two I know." Turning to others, "Come now out with it, you have tongues in your mouths and names to be spoken, haven't you?"
"Master Beorn, I am Bandobras Bracegirdle of the North Farthing, at your service and for many years the companion of your son on his adventures. As he has often been an aid to us in our toil, so we have come here to aid him with his own labors. We have traveled far and done much this year, but before the year fails there is much we may donin your service."
"And I am..." In the Fire-Watcher's mind, years of habit and tradition are weighed against reflected trust. "... Arbogast, son of Arbodag." He gives a bow that is, he hopes, low enough to be respectful without being mocking. "May I say, sir, that the folk of the wood have few friends as steadfast as your son has proven himself to be."
The companions learned quickly where Grimbeorn received his social etiquette, as the elder Beorning merely looked the trio up and down and then said, "I never cared much for Dwarves...although, I have come to accept a few." He then bent an eye to Brandy and said, "Your kind I am only slightly familiar with, having met one of you a number of years past. Of course, I catch a sniff of your people sneaking here and there along the river." To Arbogast, he just looked and nodded his head a few times.
"Well met and welcome to my home. As you are friends of my sons, thus do you have the friendship of my house. Come, let us go inside and eat and you can tell me each your tales."
:ooc: This thread is going to last as long as you guys want to interact with Beorn. Due to the fact that you are with Grimbeorn, there is no need for a set Encounter.
Feel free to elaborate and give me narrative and dialogue of your time here. You guys will be here until at least the Fall (end of August through September) as you heal and rest. Bandy, now is the time, too, that we can have you visit your Easterly Inn.
We will have our Fellowship Phase through all of this... each PC is awarded:
Each PC will earn the number of AP equal to what is checked off on their sheet plus 5
Each PC will earn 6 XP
NO Holdings roll necessary right now. I am just leaving the following details for future FELLOWSHIPS to cut and paste.
• if the die roll result is equal to or less than the Holding's rating, you earned enough income to keep your PC's current standard of living.
• if the roll is greater than the rating, the PC gains his standard of living and treasure equal to the difference of the die roll and the rating.
• if the roll is :g:, the PC earns his standard of living and the rating of the holding is reduced by 1 due to some good fortune.
• if the roll is :~~:, the holding suffers some disaster of misfortune. If the hero does not take action the next Fellowship Phase, the holding may be destroyed, or have its rating increased.
:ooc: so are we taking a full fellowship phase here in Beorn's house area? Are we here for two months? I am uncertain of the time of year we are in now and if you meant its end of August or that we would be here until at least then.
:ooc: We've arrived in mid-August, and we're staying until at least September because travelling sucks. Depending on what else goes on, individual characters may stay longer.
My impression, going by Doug's comments in other threads, is that this Fellowship phase will be a long enough one to encompass changes in location as required by the narrative.
EDIT: When my life is a little less crazy busy, I'll update the Tale of Years so we have something to refer to.
The waning days of August give way to the clouds of September, which blanket the Misty Mountains in the west and lend brilliant colour to the sunsets. Arbogast passes the time easily, sharing songs and tales with the cousins of his folk. For, though Beorn tolerates none but his own blood to dwell within his steading, there are many who cluster nearby. And the return of the son of the Skinchanger hardly goes unheralded among them. Many are the guests that call upon Grimbeorn as he rests and heals.
The Fire-watcher finds himself marvelling at these folk. For though their speech is much the same as his own, they are more boisterous, more confident of their place and destiny in the world, than the Woodmen. They are a young folk, he thinks, not long gathered by a new lord. They dwell in the sunlight of the vales and are less touched by the darkness that spreads through the forest. Such dark thoughts find little lasting purchase, however. For Beorn's hearth is ever warm, and the supply of mead from his great hives appears never-ending.
Esgalwen's continued absence is notable, though. And so, a week into September, he meets the rest of the Fellowship about the morning fire. "We ought to venture north once more," he says, "and see if news can be found of Esgalwen. There is also the matter of a buried hoard of silver to recover. A borrowed boat would suffice to move it, and her, should she be injured and incapable of travel on her own."
:ooc: Doug, I'll confess to being a little confused. Do you want us to do the mechanical Fellowship phase stuff now, or will there be a dedicated thread?
:ooc: I will create a dedicated Fellowship Phase thread for the mechanics.
Sorry for confusion on this one - I am trying to allow you guys to achieve the goals you guys wanted on this chapter, but also keep some pace with the DoM book. I also am trying to make sure Arbogast isn't away from his family for more than a year.
Also, my world is in a bit of a flurry here, too, and my thoughts on this are scattered. I leave tomorrow for my trip, but I will post again tonight with more clarity on yours and Tom's questions.
:ooc: No worries, mate. Don't knock yourself out.
:ooc: I am on the road now.
I will post this weekend, but it will be sporadic -
Like that isn't normal.
Grimbeorn and the companions spent their time in the land of his people recuperating and learning more about them, their way of life, and the issues that are plaguing their lands: Viglundings to the north and west, goblins of the Misty Mountains, beasts of Mirkwood. For him it was a time to reconnect with his roots again and deal with some of things he needed to with his father. There was no holding back either as they bickered and fought, cajoled and raged, as the cub became a bear. Beorn knew the time was soon coming where he would need to step aside and let his son lead but now wasn't it. This companionship that Grimbeorn allied himself with was the proving ground needed to shape him, to provide perspective and give a chance at honor and glory that a leader of their folk needs.
:ooc:
XP: 9 (Nothing)
AP: 14 -12 (Travel 3 -> 4) = 2
Bandy was glad that he had made full use of the Ranger's willingness to carry messages back to the Shire. The little Hobbit was sad to see the paper that he had long carried part from his company, but he hoped that the letters, notes, and bits that he had sent west would be useful. Or if not prove to be sufficiently worthy to be a mathom to be passed around and down until settling on some poor other Hobbit who was bit with the wandering or historical bug.
The House of Beorn was a wonder unto itself, and there was a small, but not lasting regret, that he was unable to pass this experience too over the mountains. Animals that could speak and talk was something that he was sure sprung from legend until he had seen and witnessed it with his own eyes. The simple simplicity of it warmed his heart and he was glad that he could be a part of it. Though he found even here the dreams and troubles of the black figure and the great presence that bore into him at its departure had not completely faded.
During the days he spent time talking the lands about the house, with some of the more ambulatory members of Beorn's house, and noted that the hills had much to recommend themselves to those like the Shire. In his heart the little Hobbit knew that he no longer would or could go west of the mountains and call it home. Here however held promise, and he heard that to the south east a bit was a rolling hill country much like his own, but with few of the big folk calling it home.
After a time the Hobbit gathered his courage and spoke to the master of the house.
"Great Beorn of the Carrock, thank you for the hospitality of your house. By the servants that you keep it is apparent that you judge not folks or creatures by their size when measuring their worth. I have heard that some of my own folk have established an inn near here, this is no surprise considering how alike your land is to my own in the east. In my time west of the mountains I have learned much about the world and the Big Folk. Would you Lord consider allowing me to stay here in your lands a well? i have a mind to build a home in the manner of my people, and the woods are no place for that. In this rolling land of yours, perhaps even away to the hills of the south, I am told there is suitable land and space besides.
I have made sufficient notes in my travels that the ordering of them will take some time and I think my curiosity of the wider world has taken a back seat to the other callings of my nature. Namely the growing and cultivating of things. I have a mind to establish a home, and with some of the flora I have seen here take my hand at the growing of tobacco. Mirkweed is my current name for it, and though not as good as that of the South Farthing, when seasoned with a bit of your honey I think will make a passable chew. Good for walks and labor, where a pipe is not.
In return I would more than willing take my turn at the Old Ford and stand the watch as a bowman, of no little merit I might add, and see that your will and your authority is ket there and in any place you would deign to bestow upon me."
Beorn looked at the Hobbit, without movement or noise. The words spilled from the Hobbit as if rehearsed a little, but there was also truth and friendship in them.
"Hobbits are new to me. If you were a dwarf I would be worried that in time my hills would crawl with mines and shafts. Though you are as big as one, I see that you are no dwarf."
Bandy waited in silence, until Beorn again boomed, "was there more."
"Ugh No, I'm not quite sure if that was a yes or a no."
The big man laughed then, "Yes."
Then turned and went about his business.
Arbogast, spending his hours beyond Beorn's fence, hears neither of Bandy's request nor its granting until the hearth is stoked and the table set that night. He is at first shocked and dismayed. You cannot abandon our Fellowship so! Who else will lift our hearts when all seems lost?
But after the initial surprise, he cannot but see the sense in the Hobbit's decision. He remembers long-ago conversations, filling the dark hours of the evening with herb-lore and pipe-weed smoke in a tiny, new-built home. Well then, he thinks, it is fitting. Grow your wondrous weed and write your tales, and may peace be ever at your door.
As the thanes of the Skinchanger carry on their raucous meal, he stands and moves to the side of the fire, mead-horn held aloft until all have fallen silent.
"From far away fields, from yearning and yen
To Wilderland wandered a Hobbit again
Who had not the mien of mightier Men
But through hardship the Halfling stood tall.
At spider-plagued forts or the Shadow's black hold
He shone through the darkness and bade us be bold
His arrows flew true as the archers of old
As we heeded his rallying call.
His errantry ended, his tales compiled
To gentler pursuits once again reconciled
Welcome a wanderer in from the Wild
And a hero home to his hall.
I drink to you, Bandobras Bracegirdle, who was a friend when no-one of name would know me and an ally where no-one of sense would go. Mirkwood will not be the same without you."
:ooc: I think that has been one of our best posts to date, Paul! Excellent writing!
I hope you don't mind, but I am sharing it on Google+ TOR page. ;D
"Then bitter be this night," said Rorin, in his rough tone. "For I, too, will be pursuing other goals at the breaking of this Fellowship. My kin - Bofri - whom we left behind to fend for himself, after the Eagles had taken us, is in need of aid. Dwarven-aid and I will see it done. The Old Dwarf Road is newly found for me and it calls to me as a task that will renew Khazad renown." The Dwarf took a long pull from his honey mead and then wiped his whiskers. "Do not think I do this easily - many are the adventures we faced, and no truer friends do I know. But my labors are needed elsewhere for a time - not only the road, but the smithy that I have built in Rhosgobel."
The companions all murmured to themselves but then offered understanding and acceptance to Rorin and the Hobbit - no one could doubt their hearts, but even the strongest tree can be bent with the wind. So bent their hearts before the Shadow and each would need time to grow back those reserves of hope that they once had.
"With the morning I will be leaving... so come, Arbogast, sing your song once more and mayhaps you can find some kind words to say of an old Dwarf, as well." There was a twinkle in Rorin's eye and the Fire-watcher could not be sure, but he believed it to be a tear catching the fire's glow.
The summer days began to wane. August had ended and September was fast moving to its own conclusion.
Arbogast was beginning to feel the call once more to be on his way. Bandy had left a few weeks past, and Rorin more before that, and the Fire-watcher was thinking now of his own home. The thoughts of Esgalwen, too, came oft to his mind and he needed to find out what had become of her. The memory of her walking away, alone, with the children of the cottars of the northern vales was still very clear in his eyes, and the man felt fear. Esgalwen was a strong woman, like his own Lindwine, but still she was a woman - and the world was cruel.
He needed to know.
And certainly, if she had lived and made it back south, she would return to Rhosgobel. Arbogast's mind made up, he returned to the house of Beorn to find Grimbeorn - last of his companions. The Fire-watcher would head south within the week and he needed to know if the Beorning would be going with him once more.
Grimbeorn was loathe to see his companions -- his boon friends -- depart on errands of their own but such is the need of theirs and of the world. He knew that though leagues lay between them, all it would take is a call, rallying cry, to unite them once more for the defense of those in need. Bandy was not going far and took heart in this knowledge, but Rorin was yet further off.
"No my friend, 'tis not a bitter night for tears of sorrow are not shed, there is no death at our door nor loss to the darkness that looms. I would call it bittersweet as we part again no different than other autumn callings of hearth and home, the duties of which we have protected so diligently. So fill your horn and be of good cheer with knowledge that the tidings are better between the mountains and the wood. To the Fellowship!"
---
Ben's heir broke the fast with his closest friend of their Fellowship and listened to his words. He was silent, not unusual for him, while he spoke and thought once again upon Esgalwen. Nothing new came from the frontier of her whereabouts and it worried him all the more as time went on. During their retreat at his father's house, Grimbeorn would range far and wide seeking any sign of whenever she came or news of a fierce lady-warrior but nothing spoke or whispered of a woman of her stature. He told no one of his journeys nor of their results for he didn't care to worry the others from their paths. It wasn't until this day did he say anything of it when Arbogast came to him. Wholeheartedly he agreed that her fate needed to be sought and he would accompany his friend on that journey.