"As long as he no more daughters to vex me," Grimbeorn thought.  He raises his tankard, "Aye, you'll have my axe, Lord Ceawin." Under his breath to rorin, "we may also see what bedevils them.  Best ensure any manner of shadow is dealt with."

Bandy was troubled by what Ceawin had just said. There was a part of it that flashed the memory of the swamps of the south the fate of Orophin into his head.

He spoke slowly and asked the question to Ceawin, but as he did so he scanned his companions for their reactions, "what do you mean Lord that the dead call to your people?"

"There is, perhaps, a better option still," says Arbogast, looking Caewin steadily in the eye.  "I myself have fared neither way, but I have come to know the woods well, and have harkened to the tales of those who have wandered farther than I.  Rorin has told me of the Dwarf Road, running seventy leagues through the heart of the forest.  You yourself told me, now months ago, that you and your party spent a month in darkness as you traversed it.  When our fellowship went north to the Old Ford, it took us a week to arrive at the road, and I cannot but think that it would take as long again, or more, to reach the Sunstead on the other side.  Such a journey is..."

Madness, he thinks.  Folly!  And his people brought the lady Verwyne past her destination to Rhosgobel, only to turn about and return once they had engaged us.  Caewin is a wealthy fool, and his people are fools themselves either to fail to see it, or to follow him regardless.

"...ill-advised, with time of the essence."  He takes a sip of his ale, to sooth a throat unaccustomed to such long speeches.  "Of the way south, I know naught save that it is long, and must pass close to... the fastness of the Enemy... and that a large party moving openly may be tempting to the fell things that now dwell within."  

Checking to see that the gathering's attention is upon him, and finding it so, he continues.  "Instead, I would venture the fastest way - through the Narrows.  It has been some years now, but Grimbeorn, Bandy and I, among others, have made this very journey, bearing goods to trade, in a mere two weeks, and I believe there is a yet better route to be found."  

He keeps his face carefully neutral as he adds: "I shall not dissemble - such a journey would allow me to see once more my home at Black Tarn Hall.  But this would allow us to rest and re-provision before entering the deeper woods."  

I may be able to answer Bandy's question:

Quote from: Eclecticon on May 15, 2016, 07:40 PMWhen Rorin brings forth the helm in the hall of Rhosgobel, the Fire-Watcher does not fail to mark the words of the Lord of the Sunstead.  He casts his eyes about, seeking the Brown Wizard, as he ponders what they might mean, and what Caewin the Generous may yet be concealing from them. 

I'm attempting a Riddle roll to figure out what he's on about. 
TN 14(?) Riddle 2

Rolled 1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 2d6 : 5, 2, total 7

Quote from: Eclecticon on May 15, 2016, 07:45 PM Well, that's a decent-ish result!  What does that, plus Shadow-Lore, get me? 

If so, I'm going to wave him to silence once I figure out what he's about to ask and whisper what I know to him as an aside, under the rest of the conversation. 

Oh yea! I am sorry, Paul. I forgot about your roll and it was good one, too. Arbogast has a good assumption of what Ceawin is talking about for he has also heard of the barrows of men becoming haunted and travelers being waylaid if they got too close.

I hope you marked your character sheet for that success.

I will do a follow-up post tomorrow.

Arbogast leans over towards his diminutive friend.  Quietly, he says "dreadful things have seeped from the deep earth to haunt the barrows of long-dead Men, Bandy.  Whatever they may be - the spirits of the dead, or something yet more sinister - they mean harm to the quick and warm-blooded who stray too close.  Perhaps it is no wonder that the Lord of the Sunstead tarries so long away from his land, if it be thus plagued." 


Thanks.  Just wondered if there was anything else I should know.  IIRC, the route I've proposed will take us right past some barrows, won't it? 

Also, .

Bandy placed his horn mug on the table and reached for his pipe, then his tobacco. With a deepening frown he took his hand away when the realization that his tobacco was now gone dawned on him. He had stretched his supply out far longer than he thought possible, but now it was utterly gone. The vacant pit in his stomach wouldnt go away and he was hardly reassured by Arbogasts words. The words of the Brown wizard that called Ceawin's helm plan foolish and his occupaation of Sunstead reckless began to echo again in the Hobbits head.
"Where was the Brown Wizard..," thought the Hobbit. He was not present at this feast and the little that the Hobbit had heard since their return was that he was only seen a couple of times since their departure. The wizard while never forthcoming had been even less open or active since their trip to the old hold of the enemey.
The halfling also expected that by this time some of the promised aid from the Woodmen to the north would have arrived at the Black Tarn by now and that the folk there would be better off than when the companions had left in the spring.

"Another road and another journey so soon?" Asked the Hobbit. "We are hardly rested and my cloak not yet even washed. There were trolls and goblins on a trading mission, what will we find in the tombs of long dead men?? Nothing good i should think."

Bandy looked at Rorin, hoping that he had more sense than the Big Folk did. "We have heard stories of such things to the east of where I live. We have no tales of Hobbits haunitng such places, because though we live in holes ourselves we mind our own bussiness and stay away from unnatural callings and places of foulness."

The Halfling rubbed his helm token and mumbled a moment and then spoke up, "I'll not leave my friends, if they go I shall follow."

Rorin traded glances with each of the companions and sat back in his chair, nervously stroking his beard. Though the wounds on his heart had healed, he remembered well the road to Dol Guldur and how he had lost control of his mind to the Shadow. The thought of going to such a dark place did not sit well with him...though, Grimbeorn was right, the Shadow MUST be dealt with, and who better to do it then the occupants of this room?

To the hobbit he said, "Alas Bandy, this IS our business. Our peoples possess not the wisdom and kindness of the halflings and the mistakes of our past haunt us. We are all people of Mirkwood and we must set our house in order."

Then he spoke out loud to the rest of the room, "I know Arbogast wishes to return to his home, and I also believe the Narrows to be the best path...though my heart much desires to look upon the Old Dwarf Road. I will accompany him at least as far as the Black Tarn, and further if my friends so decide."

Eyebrows raised in unspoken question, Arbogast glanced at Grimbeorn and Esgalwen.  Their reactions would determine the Fellowship's course.

"I hardly know which road be the course to take as my knowledge doesn't extend beyond my people's lands and those we've traveled together.  Yet I do agree that we must take up this cause.  We might not be the wisest in lore or the mightiest of warriors, but we are keen and we are able.  For if we do not stand, who will?  How could we ask others to do so if we are not willing to do the same?  As for our homes and loved ones, the least that I'm sure we could impose upon the patron of Rhosgobel would be to send word of our deeds and status."

"I could say it is duty that would move me to do this journey that has been requested, but too it is friendship. I will not let you all down. I will follow you to the heart of spider's nest should that be our way, and so I will take up this task to safely see us all across the great forest. I guess than it is duty to which I am beholden - not just duty to the Steward of Gondor far away, but duty to my friendships that I have gained in this land." Esgalwen looked to her companions and then to the chieftain, "Master Ceawin, I can say that I do not yet know the hope you wish to gain from your errand, but I can say that I will stand with my friends and see it done. I would only ask that you take counsel with Arbogast and the course that should be taken. He knows these woods and it would give him opportunity to see his home once more, before year end."

Ceawin stroked the short hair that adorned his chin, looking to ponder her words as he did. A smile bloomed on his face and he laughed, "Lady Esgalwen, I would sooner allow a Woods-man guide me through that tangle of forest than to try to find our way across once more. We call ourselves Woods-men, too, but in truth my people range the great plains of Rhovanion all the way to Dale and Dorwinion. So yes, yes! I humbly turn over the task of guide to our friend, Arbogast!"

The Wood-man heard Ceawin call him friend and he wondered at that. The Master of Sunstead had seemed to date to be a very self-serving man. Yes, it was for his people's interest, but it was his primary concern - even back to the Folk-moot those few year back.

---

Hey all!

First, let me say that you guys truly rock! I love reading our story as much as I do contributing to it!

Second, Ayrn is back and he is going to be entering the game with a new PC. Esgalwen will remain my GM character, which is actually good because it gives me an avenue to feed the party ideas if we ever get stuck. Besides, I really like the Dúnadan Ranger!  

"I thank you, Lord of the Sunstead.  So too do I thank all of you, who already have trod long and weary ways for a folk who are no kin of yours.  I hope that, in the days to come, I may be of such service to your homes as you have been to mine." 

"Master Ceawin?" Esgalwen spoke to draw his attention.

"Yes?"

"We have sat at your table now and enjoyed your fare and been a while in our cups - before it is too long into the night, perhaps you could tell us the story you promised?"

"Story?" inquired the Lord of Sunstead.

"Yes. Upon our return and receipt of your helm, you said it would honor the fallen and the restless will rest once more. A tale, you said, that was best saved for a later time. What purpose will the helm serve, this Helm of Peace?"

Ceawin smiled. He then drew a draught from his mug and began to tell a tale. "Long ago, the Northmen who cut the East Bight buried their ancestors in barrows on the edge of the wood, and planted a yew tree above each barrow. Today, the barrows are hollows amid the roots of towering trees, hidden unless you know which hollow goes deeper than the rest, leading down into the earth.

"Things are stirring in the dark places of the woods. The Shadow that once haunted this region is only a memory to the granthers that still live, but still, the Enemy's servants linger and old horrors awaken. It was in the winter of 2949 that my folk started to whisper of glowing lights that danced amid the long barrows where our ancestors lie, and of groaning voices that echo from the deepest tombs."

The companions looked at one another. To each, the memory of the year-end of 2949 and their journey to Dol Guldur brought goose-flesh to their skin. Did their dabbling in that foul place stir up shadows? Esgalwen saw once more the haunted form of Orophin, as he stood on the bridge beckoning for her to come back to him. She cleared her throat which had become tight with fear.

Ceawin continued, "The Hall of Ghosts has been seen twice by hunters, and the discovery of four dead men – killed, seemingly, by fright – convinced me that something must be done. Thus, following the advice of seers, I decided that the dead must be honoured with a gift, and so hired our Dwarf-smith friend here to forge a helm that commemorates the deeds of these Northmen of old. I will present it to them personally by going into one of these barrows and laying it upon the bier within and offer it in exchange for leaving our living folk in peace. My seers have seen the results of such offering and I have been told the words with which to honour the dead."

The Master of Sunstead could see the incredulous looks amongst those at his table, "I know it sounds foolish, but I will do what must be done for the safety of my people and lands."

"You will enter this tomb alone?" asked Esgalwen.

"If needs be," was the reply.

The Dúnadan took on a far off gaze, her mind once more returning to the spirit-haunted quags and moat that surrounded Dol Guldur. The dead within that water did not wish to release her. They wanted her, as they wanted Orophin. The dead do not make such easy compromises.

Bandy looked at Abrogast with only a thin veiled look of shock on his face. The Halfling wondered if this was the reason that the Brown Wizard had been so fearful. Their trip to Dol Guldur may have caused or awoken the fell spirits. He vividly rememberd the Wizard and how he revealed himself upon their escape. More likely still is that the dark creatures were returning before that and they are now making themsleves more known.

"So if we go it will be into the dead pits of long passed kings," said the Hobbit. "I'll not hinder the party or stay behind, but I have no desire to see the likes of the swamp candles again."

"None of us, that is for sure, wish to do this.  I will go though regardless of the danger.  After our encounter to the south, I say this not out of hubris or pride but of duty.  Appeasing these spirits may only be a temporary solution as well and we're the best to deal with it."