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Chill blows the northern wind across the Long Lake, bringing faint tidings of proud Dale and Erebor, and the brimstone scent of the Withered Heath and the unheard fury of young dragons.  It unsettles the placid water and sets the thin ice of December's first days to tinkling like a thousand tuneless bells beneath the thick piles of Lake-Town.  Above, the Men of the Lake go about their business, for the holiday of Dragontide has passed and there is yet much to be done in the tightening grip of winter.

Nor are they alone.  From across the North, emissaries of the Free Peoples have come, high and lordly in their furs and adorned with gold and gems.  Bard, king of Dale, is the latest arrival, his long ship and its twin escorts having docked at noon, disgorging what appears to be no small portion of the royal court.  Then stood Esgalwen of Ithilien by the side of beautiful Una, his queen, as the Master of Esgaroth welcomed the Dragonslayer with all possible pomp and ceremony.

The same soon will occur when Grimbeorn presents himself as the emissary of his father and the speaker for his folk beyond Mirkwood.  The son of the bear has decided that he has clung long enough to his anonymity, biding his time in the company of Hathcyn his heorthgeneat and their companions.  Behold him now: a mantle of wolf fur about his shoulders, sark and trews of fine wool beneath, rings of silver on his fingers, thick of beard and dark of brow. 

As the Master and the King by turns address the assembled crowd, he lets his mind wander, back to a warm autumn evening by his father's hearth, the enchanted serving-hounds slumbering contentedly by the embers and the Men who dwell at the hall withdrawn beyond the thorn-hedge at their chieftain's request. 

"Soon, you'll follow that road of yours to Lake-Town, beyond the trees, and speak for me there."

"Is this a command, father, or is some foresight come upon you?" 

"Huh!  Neither.  But you'll do it, because you know it has to be done.  I know you're not much more for clever words than I am, but you need to be seen as my right hand.  I won't walk the vales forever, and don't think that there aren't those who would fall upon the folk like wolves to take your birthright from you!  Aye, both without and within.  Viglund has been raiding the lands of some of the northern clans, and paying stolen silver and cattle to others.  Mark me: our quarrel with him has far yet to go, and not all those who swear to stand by us will do so when we give the call." 

"Well, what would you have me do there?"

"Hmph.  Speak.  Don't speak.  Use your judgement, for I've not a fool for a son.  But watch the thegns.  Some of them will go to speak for their own concerns.  I can't stop them, nor would I if I could!  Look to what they say, and what they do." 

He is shaken from his rememberings by the voice of Hathcyn Longspear, who strides forward, the bear standard snapping in the wind.  "My lords, I present Grimbeorn, son of Beorn, whom Men name for the Wolfslayer!" 


:ooc: This chapter is going to be a little different from our usual 'go somewhere and get the shit kicked out of us do some thrilling heroics' style, in that (unless things go pear-shaped very quickly, it will hang largely on a series of social encounters.  Characters who wish to take part in official negotiations can use this opportunity (once Grimbeorn and the other magnates have been properly welcomed) to make introduction rolls – I'll let you decide which skill to use according to how you want to play it. 

Fear not – there will be plenty of behind-the-scenes things to do for those who aren't sitting down in the Council.

A hand on the shoulder of his standard-bearer and friend provides reassurance and direction, Hathcyn moves to the side.  The Great Bear's heir takes a mighty stride forward.  He stands quiet for a long moment, feeling the eyes upon him and murmurs begin after a tense moment of silence. "Greetings, thegns and lords, from the vales and western reaches of Rhovanion.  To the Master of the Lake, many thanks for your and your people's hospitality.  To the Slayer of Smaug, I bring the tidings of my people and my father, Beorn.  Good health and long may you and your queen reign in peace and wisdom."

:ooc: Okay, we're going to kick off mechanically now, with Grimbeorn rolling Courtesy to see how well he delivers his introduction.  No matter the result, he's going to be seated at the big kids' table and he'll be allowed to speak - this is more to determine how much weight the other great ones will give to his words. 

:ooc: That's a fail as-is, but within the realm of being saved by a Hope point.  Matt, let me know what you want to do. 

More story when I can post again. 

 :ooc:
 :o  :o  :\
Use the Hope  :x

Well are Grimbeorn's fair words received by the Master of Lake-Town and the King of Dale, who incline their heads approvingly.  There is also a murmur from the surrounding crowd, who find the son of Beorn to be far from the rawhide-clad barbarian told of in the tales that have spread from west of the wood.  As he turns to face the crowd, Grimbeorn marks those of his father's thegns that make up the loose legation he has brought with him: Æthelwold Red-eyes and Claudas Bare-legs watch impassively, while Walcaud Shield-gnawed grins and nods encouragement.  By his side stands Wulfdan Broken-jaw, son of Wulfdas Ram's-blood who is now too frail to journey far from his hearth.  The young thegn bears an expression on his face that Grimbeorn, far as he is, cannot fathom. 

After the Beorning æthling come others.  The Elvenking, it seems, has not deigned to attend the council in person, sending his son Legolas in his stead.  Lordly stands the elf-prince, speaking briefly in the Sindarin tongue then repeating himself in the Westron speech: "Many greetings in fair days, friends, Men of the North.  May your counsel be wise and our meetings end with warm hearts."  The few dignitaries who accompany him remain silent and inscrutable.  Though their garb is scarcely richer than that of the Beornings, there is about them a great stillness, an apartness from the affairs with which Men might busy themselves from one day to the next. 

As the Elves move to one side of the enormous door to the town hall in anticipation of the dignitaries still to come, the crowd shifts and parts before the richly clad and well known figure of the Dwarf Balin, son of Fundin, who strides at the head of a procession of equally important Dwarves.  Reaching the centre of the square, he raises his voice, and announces "my lords, the King Under the Mountain!"  As the echoes die away, the assembled crowd a hearty cheer and king Dáin appears, a vision adorned with golden rings about his arms and a gorget of beaten silver upon his breast.  Only his boots, their toes iron-clad in the mode of a common miner, mark him out as anything but a Dwarf-lord re-emerged from the shadows of an elder age.  Mounting the stairs, he speaks softly to the Master of Esgaroth and seizes king Bard in a great embrace.  Much beloved are the pair, who have together brought great prosperity to the Men the Lake!

Upon his heels comes Gailar, daughter of Lathfan, an elder of the council of Woodland Hall, to speak for the Woodmen clans, and Caewin the Generous, bearing the gilded helm forged for him by Rorin the Roadmaker.  He announces himself as Lord of the Sunstead, and wins a cheer of his own when he tosses handfuls of silver pennies to the assembled crowd.

As at Ceawin's signal, the lesser folk - merchants and traders, thegns and clansmen, begin to come forward.

:ooc: This is the point to have your characters introduce themselves if you want them to address the open council.

 :ooc: hell no! I'm not saying anything, I'll let the plot muck this up for me.

:ooc: I suspect that neither Esgalwen nor Laeral will want to do so either, but I'll give their players a day or two to say as much. 

:ooc: Esgalwen will stand by the queen and be silent.

:ooc: Looks like Laeral will do the same. 

Arbogast takes his place in the snaking queue of petitioners and minor delegates, between a Barding lordling who the Fire-watcher guesses is here to find a bride for his son and a Dwarf of the Iron Hills who makes no secret of his wish to see the new forest road extended across the Upper Marches.  His conversation is polite but limited, and he tries to give away as little as he may of why he is here.  And why indeed am I here, he wonders.  To speak for the folk of Sweartmereseld, yes, but what issue have they that would be brought up at a council such as this?  As the line shuffles forward once again, he decides Well, I shall wait, and I shall see.  An nought else presents itself, I may lend my voice in support of any matter Grimbeorn might raise.

Finally his feet, weary from a cold and dreary wait, ascend the stairs before the Town Hall, and he finds himself facing the well-practised welcoming smile of the Master of Esgaroth.  Offering a bow, he introduces himself.  "Greetings, honoured host.  I am the Fire-watcher, come to speak for the clans of the Black Tarn.  I thank you for the opportunity to do so." 


:ooc: This'll be a Courtesy roll:

:ooc: Well.  :roll:  He'll burn a point of Hope to have that stick. 

Arbogast finishes his introduction and finds that his hands are shaking.  Fool, he chides himself, that you who have stood fast against the terror of the Shadow would lose your nerve at speaking to a merchant prince! 

As goes to move on and let the line behind him continue to move forward, there is a cry from away to the west.  The northern wind carries away the sense of the words but the tone of surprise, and possibly fear, is clear.  All about the square, heads turn one to the other.  The Master looks at king Bard, who glances anxiously at his queen.  King Dain narrows his eyes and fairly glares at Grimbeorn and Legolas, as if willing to suspect treachery of anyone born west of the Long Lake. 

Within seconds, the crowd begins to flow westward into Bridge Street and the merchants' district.  The Master and his guests hesitate, unsure whether their best course lies in following the people or withdrawing into the Town Hall.  Esgalwen, standing fast by the side of queen Una, finds her hand instinctively on the pommel of her sword, though no foe can be seen.  All at once, the sounds of disorder seem to fade into the background and a familiar scent, redolent of comfortable nights by an open fire and the lengthy discourses of Bandobras Bracegirdle on all topics and none at once, fills her nostrils.  Turning without fully knowing why, she sees the figure of an old man half-concealed against the Town Hall's front door, as if one of the carven decorations  had chosen this moment to spring to life. 

"A word, if you would, Lady of Ithilien." 


:ooc: Righto - as is my wont, there's two things going on here.  Anyone who wants to can easily push forward through the crowd and find out what's going on to the west.  Laeral, or anyone who can make a TN 18 Awareness roll can also see through a wizard's spells and make out what's going on with Esgalwen.  You're welcome to try the latter before deciding on the former. 

Grimbeorn's eyes more focused upon the lords than the crowds, seeing their eyes and attention shifting in his direction of those out of western Rhovanion.  Yet those of Esgalwen were elsewhere...

 :ooc:
 :00:

But the throng lunged and was so thick that he couldn't see what caught her gaze.  Changing his attention to what sounded of a fell source, he waded through the sea of people to put himself between whatever might come and those that sat above.

By force of habit and his own disposition he had grown accustomed to not look where he was directed. Ever watchful of deception he let others look to the disturbance while he looked to see what might be taking advantage of it.

(Will Wary do anything for me in this case?)

Quote from: Eclecticon on Oct 12, 2020, 07:03 PMEsgalwen, standing fast by the side of queen Una, finds her hand instinctively on the pommel of her sword, though no foe can be seen.  All at once, the sounds of disorder seem to fade into the background and a familiar scent, redolent of comfortable nights by an open fire and the lengthy discourses of Bandobras Bracegirdle on all topics and none at once, fills her nostrils.  Turning without fully knowing why, she sees the figure of an old man half-concealed against the Town Hall's front door, as if one of the carven decorations  had chosen this moment to spring to life. 

"A word, if you would, Lady of Ithilien."

:ooc: Question, was the confusion started by Gandalf to distract, or is there two things going on at once? I will respond but will make any edits if I have misread the narrative.

---

Still on her guard as she looked to the old man with a questioning gaze, Esgalwen's demeanor began to change with the slow recognition of he who spoke.

She remembered him from a dell within the forest, just a year past, where he and the Company had spoken regarding ill-tidings in the north near Gundabad. This memory, along with many tales from her youth of the travelling, grey pilgrim made her more the curious now.

"I recognize that scent - it is the pipeweed oft smoked by a friend of mine."

"And is this friend a small, dark-haired chap by the name of Bracegirdle?" The old man asked through clenched teeth.

"He is. You are the wandering wizard - Gandalf is your name."

"It is and I am... at your service," smiled Gandalf.

Esgalwen looked back to the queen and answered, "You may have a moment, but understand that my duty is to the Queen of Dale, who stands at my side. Know this, too, wizard that though the stories told of you speak of greatness, my steel will keep you from her should you mean ill will."

"I assure you, I mean no threat to Queen Una."

"Then speak freely - your words will need be shared with the queen, as well, for I do not intend to leave her unaccompanied."

:ooc: Doug, the two things are unconnected.  Unless, of course, they are.  It's hard to tell with wizards. 

Tom, this will be one of those times when someone who isn't Wary wouldn't get to roll, but Hathcyn does.  Let's see what he notices:

Awareness TN 14

Ever the watcher over his lord and kinsman, Hathcyn casts his eyes across the confusion of the crowd.  He spares particular attention for the Beorning thegns, heeding the words of the chieftain to his son, and is rewarded by the sight of a figure wrapped in a dark cloak against the cold wind and moving against the tide of lake-folk.  As the figure passes the knot of thegns, there is a flash, ever so brief, as something is passed from one hand to another.  From this distance, even the keen-eyed hunter cannot tell what has been exchanged that might have shone so in the morning light, or who might have been the giver or receiver.  Then the moment passes.  The Beornings follow the crowd, as eager as anyone else to know what is taking place, and the dark figure turns around the corner of a house. 

By the Town Hall gate, the eyes of Gandalf the Grey sparkle as if the light of his pipe bowl were reflected in each pupil.  "And I am glad of it!  For both she and her husband are in peril, as are all those who will gather in this hall.  The minions of the Eye are abroad - yes, even here! - and they mean to strike if they can, though I know not against who precisely.  I have watched foul things gather about the shores of the Long Lake, and I know what calls them.  You, or your companions, have faced its like before," he says, his brows gathering like storm clouds, "in the shadow of Mount Gundabad."   


:ooc: Matt, Aly, I haven't forgotten you two, but it will take a little while for Grimbeorn to get where the action is happening and I'm not sure what Laeral is up to (being Suspicious, she could also make an Awareness roll to see if she spots something Hathcyn has missed). 

Queen Una's breath hissed at the wizard's news, "Tell me Gray One, is this threat near to him now?"

The concern for her husband now paramount, she clenched at Esgalwen's arm. The ranger placed a hand atop the other woman's in hopes to provide comfort, all the while she scanned the people around her for any apparent threats. Her hunter instincts made her muscles tense, ready to spring should there be a sudden assailant. Esgalwen's other hand gripped firmly around the hilt of Nimronyn.

Not waiting on Gandalf to answer the queen, the Dúnadan's voice came calm and slow. "Am I the first to whom you have presented this information? Why do you not take it now before the gathering council?"

Her gaze reached out through the throng in an attempt to locate Arbogast or Hathcyn, or even Euric if he were there among the King's guard.

"Not so close that swords need be hastily drawn," the wizard answers quickly, "but its call to the dark things of Middle-Earth is easily heard, for those with the ears to do so, and so I know it to have designs on this place, and on its people." 

He frowns at Grimbeorn, and the Beorning aethling's gaze, nearly settled on the three by the door, slides away once again.  "As for why I do not bring it before the Council, think what that news would do!  Some would withdraw at once to the safety of their halls, and the rest, in their bright valour, would immediately set a hunt for an enemy they would never find.  The opportunity of the council meeting would be lost, perhaps never to be recaptured." 

As he speaks, his expression softens, bushy eyebrows and much-lined brows rearranging themselves into such an expression of doubt and care that Esgalwen is struck by how old he suddenly appears.  "In truth, I know not if I am right to keep such a thing concealed.  Perhaps wisdom would win out over their warriors' hearts, and they would see that there is more than one way to show boldness before an enemy.  But I cannot worry over-long, for I will soon have business elsewhere.  All I may do now is leave my cares in the hands of those that I might trust, and in your line I have placed my trust for many generations without ever being disappointed." 

"And with that," he says, rising to his feet, "the hour is come when I must be away.  I hope to be back before Yule, but if I am not, keep your watch, Ranger, and keep it well."

:ooc: Doug, there's time for Esgalwen to ask maybe one more quick question before he goes, if you have any to ask.  Tom and Aly, let me know what you want to do with what you've seen.  Matt, I think I'll get the update of what Grimbeorn discovers up on the weekend. 

As the tide of people swirled and what he saw was carried away the Beorning closed his eyes. He thought to paint the picture in his mind as he had seen it before it was changed or altered in his memory. When he opened his eyes he hoped it was firmly planted there so in time he could see more or learn more.

When he did Grimbeorn was already down in the crowd striding, but Hathcyn remained where he was incase the disturbance was a feint. 

Esgalwen nodded quietly at the wisdom of Gandalf's reasoning, but then wondered at his aged face and his comment of generations. How many lives of men - or even Dúnedain - had the wizard lived? What was he if not a man? For surely he had been part of the tales of her youth - an old pilgrim that came and went with the times. Yet here he was, just as old but never changing... like Radagast.

Gandalf's sudden rise started both of the women and Esgalwen stammered with her words, "But.. but... you are here! Will you not stay and be part of this council? Surely your counsel would be greatly sought by those within."

"I believe their counsel is sound already and they are already aware of what needs done. To unify these people
of the forest realms and strengthen the bonds that are there. They have seen the darkness of evil, long in the form of Smaug, and so they will know when it comes again." With a twinkle in his eye, he smiled, "And with allies like you and your company, they will have strength to help them lead."

She looked at him and a fear was in her heart, "The blunt mattock swung at you is easy to perceive and hopefully avoid. Such are the Enemy's tools with his orcs and wargs. I do not believe that these kind of blunt weapons are what you warn me of, Gandalf. Instead I believe you speak of the evil shadow that grows within Men's hearts. Tell me, is that what we must now fear?"

The wizard cocked his head to one side and looked into Esgalwen's eyes and she knew. When her mind focused once more on where she was, all she could see of him was his tall hat bobbing away through the crowd.

He was gone.

Esgalwen looked about her at the throng of faces - men, women, children and now elf and dwarf. Some were young and fair, others old and weathered, all different of skin tone and hair. Who among them now conspired against the Lords of these realms? Who among them would see it all burned away under the banner of the Shadow?

"My Queen," she said turning to her charge, "might I suggest we make our way to the Hall, now that the parade of dignitaries have passed within? It would be safer for you there."

---

:ooc: Knowing how cryptic Gandalf always was, I am going to assume that he would not be so blatant as to answer any direct question and so I came up with the narrative and dialogue above. If I missed something, or overstepped your story, I can adjust it.

If the dialogue is not clear enough, the gist of Esgalwen's thoughts and question to Gandalf are that Mordor would not come at them right now with a host of orcs - it would be the subtle poisoning of relations that would serve him best at the moment. The poisoning of Men's hearts.

Anyway, I am going to roll an Awareness check as she scans the people and places around her and the queen while she escorts her to the safety of the Lake-town Hall.
TN -- awareness 2d

:ooc: Wow! Way to go Ranger! Could you be anymore oblivious??

Hatchyn was below and carrying the banner of Grimbeorn rose to be closer to her. He saw her gazing into the crowd looking for something.

"Lady Esgalwen, did you see it too? When the disturbance occurred two who were hiding in the crowd took it as a signal to meet and exchange something. I saw but a glint of metal and then they were lost in the crowd again. Could be nothing, could be something. My instinct tells me the later."

Hathcyn's words brought Esgalwen from her thoughts and she realized her distraction, even as she moved the queen through the square. This is no way to protect her, the Dúnadan chided her self. The Beorning's words escalated her concerns and she answered, "No, Hathcyn, I fear not. My attention had been captured by another within the crowd and I saw naught but the concerns within my own head. What did you see?"

After his quick reiteration, "Help me see the queen inside to safety and then you and I can find a place to talk in private. Mayhaps the Fire-watcher can join us."

The press of bodies along Bridge Street is barely credible to Grimbeorn, used as he is to life at his father's house, with a mere handful of other Men within shouting distance.  Here, they hem him in on all sides with barely a glance at his fine clothes.  Nor, as the crowd jostles and shoves its way through the market square, is he overly surprised to see a shock of red hair at his side and realise that the Elf Laeral has joined him without him noticing.  There is little opportunity to speak of questions, nor does the noise of the crowd make it easy, and in any case there is only one question that seems to unite all of Lake-Town.  What has happened to cause such commotion? 

The frustration of the crowd is palpable as it nears the tollhouse that marks, for all intents and purposes, the western edge of Esgaroth.  Its gates, stout and businesslike in the manner of Mannish works, stand shut, and the voices of the crowd drown out whatever may be happening beyond them.  Grimbeorn's first thought is to force his way though the crowd and demand that he be allowed into the tollhouse, but Laeral, seeming to know his mind, catches his attention with a hand on his shoulder.  Shaking her head, she says 'This way.' 

The two of them instead move south, where the throng thins as it approaches bridges over a narrow canal, and the Elven Quarter beyond.  Laeral leads the Beorning across the bridge, and while a trio of warriors in the garb of the Sylvan kingdom appear, they melt back into the surroundings as she produces a pendant from beneath her sark, a sign of her allegiance to Lady Irimë.  It is then a simple matter to find an elevated spot on the edge of the platform, from where the entire scene becomes clear. 

Between the outer gatehouse and the tollhouse gate, a party of armed Men on horseback is confined.  Bright is their mail beneath cloaks which show the signs of hard travel.   From their saddles hang sheathed swords, and on their backs shields, each one bearing a dark red circle.  Before them, their leader stands in his stirrups, dark his hair and furious his mien even at this distance.  In a clear and deep voice, he bellows "I am Mogdred, King of the Vales and lord of Tyrant's Hill!  I demand entry and a seat at the Council of the North!" 

 :ooc: oh man I love this guy. Who knows what his true intentions are, which way will he fall between light and dark? Its always interesting when he shows up. We have developed him so much more than the source material!

 :ooc:
King?  I can't recall, but has he claimed that title before?

 :ooc: Im sure if Cenwin has Mogdred wouldnt let it go. He does have two settlements to his name now.

:ooc: Mogdred took leadership of the Toft after the battle of Stony Ford and the prior leader, Vidugalum - who called himself a king - was unseated.

I guess it rubbed off on Mogdred, but now he commands two locations.

Ceawin never called himself a king to my knowledge.

It is a cool picture if Uhtred and makes for a good substitute for Mogdred.

Ignoring the pomp and egotism in the self-sworn titles, Grimbeorn replied, "Ho! Mogdred! You are far from your lands and your horses stand precariously over water.  I would counsel a fairer and more contrite tongue to the Master of this town and the lords of these lands. Honey instead of vinegar, my friend."

At the sound of Grimbeorn's call, Mogdred looks about, searching for the one who answers him.  After some seconds, he spies the tall Man on his perch.  Whether the newly fledged 'king' knows him by sight, Grimbeorn cannot say, but it seems that he guesses, perhaps only from the fact that few are bold enough to address him so. 

"Ah, the bear-blooded prince," he replies, his voice booming across the water.  "Much have I heard of your doings to the west!  Speak to these folk, then, and tell them of how I drove the orc-friend Vidugalum from his hall and holdings, that you might end forever both he and his dreams of war and conquest at Stánford!" 

Unseen by Mogdred and his warriors, but plain to Grimbeorn, the Master, flanked by the kings of Erebor and Dale, makes his way through the crowd.  Flustered advisors surround each of them, each attempting to stay close enough, in the press of bodies, to speak their minds to their lord. 


:ooc: Grimbeorn has an opportunity here to speak to the host of the council, and a pair of kings, as a relative equal – especially as he's the only one of them who knows anything at all about Mogdred.  If he wants to, he can more or less determine what kind of reception (if any at all) he receives. 

Doug, feel free to play out what Esgalwen tells Arbogast as she gathers him and Una into the Town Hall.  Alternatively, we can assume that she tells him more or less what Gandalf told her and consider him briefed. 

:ooc: Before I post anything about getting Una into the hall and meeting Arbogast, is Esgalwen able to hear Mogdred's call from the gates? Of all the company, she has the closest (and probably most sympathetic) relationship with the man.

If you need it, here is a roll for her Awareness.

TN ?? awareness 2d

:ooc: That is a :%: success if it is a standard TN, but let me know.

:ooc: Doug, I'm going to say that all Esgalwen et al can hear is a hubub to the west.  Lake-Town isn't huge, at least to us, but it's still a long way for Mogdred's voice to carry, and there's plenty of other noises in the way.  However, there'd be plenty of people carrying the news to people elsewhere in town, so there could easily be an excited person running past yelling 'there's some guy called Moggie who says he's a king!  He's scratching at the door to be let in!'

Grimbeorn cocked an eyebrow at the blustery plea of Mogdred and gave pause in consideration.  With a wave, he acknowledged and agreed to the request.  "Keep an eye on this one, Laeral, loud though he is, he also keeps his cards close."  He made his way down to the throng and through it to the gathering high lords.  "My lords," he greets the Master of Esgaroth and King Bard.  "I know of this man and will provide counsel as I may regarding who he is and some of his mind, though there are others among us who know it better.  Regardless of what I say, it is not a 'yay' or 'nay' towards his request for these are your lands and your gate at which he stands, you do as you see best."  At that, Grimbeorn relays some of the interactions he's had and information he's heard, leaving out anything known coming from Esgalwen for it is for to share.

 :ooc:
 :00:

Quote from: Eclecticon on Oct 21, 2020, 01:57 PM:ooc: Doug, I'm going to say that all Esgalwen et al can hear is a hubub to the west.  Lake-Town isn't huge, at least to us, but it's still a long way for Mogdred's voice to carry, and there's plenty of other noises in the way.  However, there'd be plenty of people carrying the news to people elsewhere in town, so there could easily be an excited person running past yelling 'there's some guy called Moggie who says he's a king!  He's scratching at the door to be let in!'

:ooc: Yep, I completely understand. I will assume her good Awareness roll is for just her becoming more attentive to her charge.

I will post later with something regarding Una to the hall and meeting with Arbogast.

Esgalwen felt the stress leave her as she entered the hall, Queen Una close behind her, and placed her in the charge of the Bard's King's men. The guards were capable warriors each and having them and the walls around them allowed the Ranger to lower her guard.

"If you are done with me, I go to find a friend and so leave you in the care of your guard, my Queen."

"Yes, Lady Gwen, your services are no longer needed at this time," replied the Queen of Dale with a warm smile. It was evident that she, too, was feeling more safe now within the hall. "If I need you, I will send word."

Esgalwen returned the smile and gave a slight bow. It was normally the masculine gesture made to royalty, but the Dúnadan felt odd making a curtsy when not in a dress. Besides, she was always around men, now, and wondered if any women associated her as such.

Leaving such trivial thoughts behind, Esgalwen moved back to where Hathcyn waited. "Have you seen him anywhere?"

"Arbogast? Yes. He was," the Beorning craned his neck to look over the crowd for their companion and then pointed, "there... speaking with some of the men that had come north with Ceawin."

And so he still stood, deep in conversation with a well-dressed merchant or lord from the new settlement on Mirkwood's eastern eaves. The two pushed through the many folk strewn throughout the hall until they came to where the Fire-watcher listened with great interest of orc raids out of the southern wood.

"The crossing to the Tarn is becoming more perilous indeed even though the East Bight is only a short distance to your home. It seems the wood has become more fraught with orcs of a new kind - stronger and more cruel - as well as the spiders weaving terrible traps. Yet, to make for the Dwarf-road puts my vans on a terribly long travel. My profits suffer!"

Arbogast saw his two friends near at hand and could see they wanted to speak to him, and so he extracted himself from the conversation as quickly, and politely, as possible. His last words, "When I return to the Black Tarn, I will bring your words to Amaleoda and mayhaps we can assist in clearing the trails once more. It seems a waste that our two clans should need suffer the longer journeys either north or south to maintain good trade. We shall speak more of this ere you set off once more, back to Sunstead."

Now away from the delegates of the eastern realm, Arbogast came to his friends. Esgalwen could see the scar where he had been struck in the head. It was permanent, but looked like it had healed well.

"Esgalwen. Hathcyn," said the Fire-watcher with a nod in greetings.

The trio spoke quickly about the day's events, the entourage of kings and clansmen, and the upcoming council that would begin with Bard's word. The subject finally came around to first, Hathcyn's strange sight of a secret passing of items within the square. "Strange was the person who wore dark cloaks and pushed against the thegns as they paraded to the hall. And then a flash of an item in the day's sunshine! Metal it seemed, as it caught the light, but I could see no more."

"Which leads to my strange encounter," Esgalwen chimed in. "Do you remember the gray wizard that we met in the clearing of Mirkwood, near Thranduil's realm?"

"Of course, he is Gandalf the Gray. Oft has Radagast spoken of him to us, as well."

"The very one. It was as if he appeared from the frame of the house itself, near which we stood, for first he was not there and then he was. But that aside - Gandalf came bearing warning to us, saying that I need keep vigilant for the minions of the Eye are abroad and all within this Hall are in danger." Esgalwen made sure the warning was clear, "And so I bring this warning to us all - and soon to Grimbeorn - as I fear the wizard does not speak of a blatant show of force. I do not believe that Lake-town is under threat from Orcs of the wood, but from within - from those that might be trusted here."

She looked from her friends' faces to scan the hall and see if any others in the crowd gave an air of suspicion.

"If he is as you say," says Bard, regarding Grimbeorn's words thoughtfully, "then he has been a foe of the orcs and their kind as long as any of us.  I see no reason why he should not be brought into our Council." 

He looks to his Dwarven friend and ally for agreement, but the King Under the Mountain only gives a shrug.  "I do not know him, but if the Beornings will speak on his behalf, then I am content to hear him." 

Nearby, Legolas is lost in reverie.  "Ah, Amon Bauglir," he sighs.  "What fell happenings have passed there since the fall of the Greenwood!  It gladdens my heart to hear that a foe of the Enemy now dwells there." 

"Very well!"  The Master claps his hands and calls to the guards.  "King Mogdred is no foe to the Free Peoples of the North.  Open the gates and bid him enter!" 

"I would hazard a guess and say all peoples here have the same problems. While they may look united on the surface there are forces at work to divide them. Even my own people are not as tightly bound as one would think. We have a history of being a loose collection of people, but maybe all save the dwarves and the elves are also not as united as they seem. We are far away, and ways are dark and treacherous. This may be even a greater reason why the Forest Road must be finished, so as the Firewatcher says the Southern way is long and now perilous."

"Agreed, Hathcyn. Always has it been that the courts of Men are rife with those who seek greed and power, and so are willing to do dark things to attain such ends. Gondor's civil war is a testament to such things, and so it shall be here, whether they be Man, Dwarf, or even Elf. Each will seek out his or her own goals, but to what level are they willing to go to do so?" Not waiting on a reply, "I believe that is what Gandalf spoke of - not wily words and devious intentions - but ill actions."

"You believe he brings warning that someone here seeks to actually harm one of these lords?"

Esgalwen's eyes shifted once more to the crowd of men and women in the hall and wondered at their minds. Looking to Arbogast, "His last words to me were, keep your watch, Ranger, and keep it well. I believe he warns of ill will. I believe he warns that someone here, or maybe some folk here, have nefarious intentions and are willing to act on them." Looking to the Beornings and those Woodmen that had made the crossing, "Do any of these folk play agent to Viglund - a slaver and stealer of women and children? Does he - or his son - not have a hatred for our dear friend and his people?"

Hathcyn bristled at the thought of agents of Viglund being among the Beornings, "I know my people. Those present are true to their master and lord."

Arbogast chimed in with a word of precaution, "But do we know their hearts, Hathcyn? Even the people of the Vale - my folk - are of mixed allegiance and have intentions of their own. We must take Gandalf's words and try to understand the wizard's mind... which is said to be subtle and thus a great challenge."

"I will say that he also spoke of the Shadow - that which we fought on the highlands of the North Vale and that which we felt when we entered the dark fortress in the south. Gandalf said it is present here in the north now and it is drawing evil things to the shores of Long Lake."

"Then maybe it is a force of orcs, or other fell things, that he speaks of?" asked Arbogast. "The Lake-town fisher-folk warned of the presence of trolls along the southern marshes and we fell victim to the cruel orcs in their warren, not long ago! Esgalwen, you have spoken of the many bands of orcs that you have dispatched with your company of riders from Dale. There has also been warning of cruel men from the east, raiding once more into Rhovanion. Perhaps there is meant to be a major strike against Lake-town while these kings are out from behind their walls?"

The Fire-watcher's voice became earnest with warning, but the Dúnadan wondered, "I don't know, Arbogast. To me, if there were armies building up along the shores of Long Lake, Gandalf would have spoken of such. It is said he was there at the Battle of Five Armies and surely he would not keep such dangerous news wrapped in mystery. No - I believe the wizard speaks of subterfuge and evil acts. Gandalf told me and now I have told you. It is on us now to speak to the lords and masters of these lands and let them decide what they wish to do with such information."

Hathcyn sputtered, "But what information? What do we warn? Lord Grimbeorn," he mocked, "there may be someone nearby that wishes us harm!"

Esgalwen did not rise to the Long-spear's tone, "I do not know the mind of the wizard, my friend, I can only relay what was said and question what now needs done. Perhaps I could have asked a more direct question of Gandalf, but he was on his way as quickly as he appeared. That said, I do not believe he would make an effort to find me and give warning of only vagaries. I believe that we must keep our watch and be more vigilant than ever."

Hathcyn nodded in agreement and all three looked to the people in the hall. Delegates from distant lands mingled and spoke over offered cups and crocks, all in the hopes of unity. Each wondered now if there was a wolf among the sheep.

"I would lay but one word of caution upon them entering is that woe follows that man, for each time we've met, an evil has befallen the land that has lurked in shadow.  Pray take heed and redouble your men about the gates and all that you hold dear.  I would that we prevent it this time before it strikes again successful," admonishes Grimbeorn.

:ooc: Let's make this interesting and see how seriously they take his words:

Persuade

"My good friend," the Master replies with a wry smile, "the guard is already doubled.  Why, we have had to take new men into our pay, some of them your own countrymen, to ensure the keeping of order over these momentous days!  Let fate see to fortune.  I, for one, will place my trust in the strong arms and keen eyes of the town watch and the Bowman's Guild." 

As he speaks, the gates are heaved open and Mogdred, his kingship recognised by Town, Wood, Dale and Mountain, rides into Esgaroth.