Tate opens his mouth as if to object to Esgalwen's statement, pauses, and then wordlessly shuts it once more.  Oderic is not so understanding.  "No great love had I for him, but this is a poor way to treat a man who came so far for an outcast."  In the face of Esgalwen's glare, and Tate's weary compliance, however, he moves down into the rushes.  Wading out into the cold water, the two men allow Williferd's body to be taken by the current and carried toward southern lands beyond the ken of the Beornings. 

Then it is back to the path.  Esgalwen drives the reduced company hard, fearing further pursuit, but it becomes clear by the end of the day that no more hunters are forthcoming.  That night is spent in weary silence in the lee of a long-fallen ash tree, the companions sharing unspoken visions of dead friends and dark armies on the march.  Grimbeorn went to battle, Esgalwen finds herself uncomfortably reminded.  Does he now lie upon a bier, his folk grieving about him? 

Mercifully, an answer comes in the middle of the following afternoon as the trio near the riverbank opposite Stánford.  From high above, a dark shape comes wheeling from the sky, hoarsely calling "Eeeeeeesgalweeeeeen!  Eeeeeeesgalweeeeeen!"  Landing on a nearby stone, Magrac (for it is he, quite unexpectedly) speaks his missive.  "Griiiimbeooorn biiids you haaaaaaaaarken!  He is gooooooone nooooooorth to reeeeeescue Roooorin from greeeaaat peeeril!  He biiiiids you aaaiiid him with aaaaaaall speeeeeed!"

Esgalwen recognized the old bird and smiled at its approach, but her pleasure was quickly undone at the tidings Magrac brought. She listened intently to the message sent and her heart yearned for their horses that were stabled in Stánford.

Urgency was once more upon them.

When the raven was finished, Esgalwen spoke her own message that needed to be sent north. She hoped the bird understood her. "Magrac, once more must I ask you to take wing and carry back our response. Send to Grimbeorn that his message is received. We are on the Anduin, just south of Stánford, where we shall take to horse and ride north at best possible speed. This you must also tell him, and say this to any that you see along the way that do not bear the sigil of a red disc, that raiders from the south encroach the lands and are gathering in force within the Wolfwood."

The large bird pecked at the ground and produced a thick worm, its head flitting side to side, while its big eyes blinked.

"Can you do this, Magrac? Will you return my message north?"

Hopping about in search of another morsel, the raven did not react to Esgalwen and she worried whether only Rorin could speak to the bird. But then Magrac, with new worm swallowed, flapped up and onto Esgalwen's arm.

"Yessss!" croaked Magrac, "I will tell Griiiimbeooorn your wooorrdds!"

The Ranger smiled, "Thank you, Magrac! Fly fast and fly safe! We will follow as best we can and we will rescue your friend."

With a flutter of wings and a few black feathers released to the air, the raven took off and flew north out of sight. Esgalwen breathed in and pondered their state. Oderic was injured - not gravely, but still in pain. Tate was also suffering from their conflict from the day before. Neither had been happy with her decision to give Williferd to the river and Oderic had been quiet since he complied, and now she would need to demand more.

She turned to her two companions, "Time is now against us and I must see myself north."

"I knew you were not Beornings. I knew you were looking for me. I only assumed it was for Williferd. He always lacked the courage to leave the boundaries of Stánford. Now I see...and hear that you are collectors for the master of these lands, which means you came to take me back." Rage was beginning to fill Oderic's eyes, "Not just to Stánford, but to the house of Beorn!"

"Yes," said Tate. "We came in search of you by order of Beorn. Understand, there are many mysteries that need resolved and the blood of Men has been shed."

"Damn you," spat the Beorning and he struggled back to his feet. The surprise of the talking bird and all its wonder had left him. "I knew I should not have trusted anyone. I should have told you and Williferd to go and leave me to mine own!"

"Enough, Oderic!" anger filled her words. "Enough! Your half-sister mourns over a grave. Your foster-father drinks himself to dark states of mind. Three men are dead and no justice has been given them. All of this point back to you and we found you hiding in a camp of outlaws! So, do not show me your ire, for I do not care."

Oderic made to argue back, but Esgalwen rose to the full stature of her folk - tall and confident were the Dúnedain. "I am not done! Yes, we were given order to find you by the scion of Beorn and bring you back to his house, so you might speak your words and give more light to this tale. Only then would judgement be passed, as to your involvement. Thus we have found you and we bring you back north."

Esgalwen breathed and released the anger that had welled, "But now my time is short. My friends are in danger in the north, in lands of the Viglunds, and they need my aid. So...I must make a decision." Again she breathed. "I am returning you to Stánford and your people. They will keep you and decide your current fate, as to whether you shall be sent, once more, to Beorn, or kept until he sends his own for you. Either way, you will heed their will!"

Awe roll

TN 14 (?) awe 3d

1d12 : 4, total 4
Rolled 3d6 : 4, 5, 2, total 11

A success, but nothing outstanding. Treat it how you will, Paul.

---

Esgalwen could not tell from the face of the man, whether he had been cowed by her commands, but at the moment she did not care. Rorin and Grimbeorn - two people who she had bled with in battle - were in need and she would not let them down.

Oderic now stood quiet and the Ranger turned to Tate, "Once we are back in Stánford, I am riding north. I am not sure your condition, but I welcome your company, if you have the desire. As for this one," she gestured to the Beorning, who brooded in silence,"once there, I am no longer responsible for his fate. Hopefully he will prove himself better than most that we have seen, and do the right thing."

"The right thing?" asked Oderic quietly. "Like shoving a dead man's body into the river?"

Esgalwen stared at him a moment and then replied, her mood and voice now calm. "Yes - like shoving the man Williferd's body into the river. Though I carry great sorrow that it was not done with great preparation, or even done as is customary of his folk, but it was done with respect. There was no time to build a cairn, no time to dig a grave, and a pyre would have been dangerous. So, his body will wash cleanly down the river until it at last comes to the sea. It will not blacken on the field and be carrion to the birds and animals that seek such things to despoil."

"Yes...it was the right thing," the added comment was Tate's. "We did what haste allowed. So, though it may not have been your people's custom, Oderic, honor him. Honor him by returning home, for Williferd sacrificed all to see you do that...it is what love does to a man." The Beorning turned sharply but Tate continued, "Return home and speak your tale - if you are in the right, than justice will be found. When Beorn, or his son, come once more to speak with you, speak the truth. Tell them that you returned of your own will, so that the complete tale could be told. If you are found blameless, you may then go where you will."

Esgalwen nodded at Tate's words, but she said nothing more on the subject, "Come, we must away. Stánford is not much further north."

I am not sure what Ayrn's schedule is this month, so I might have just posted for him and didn't need to. He might not agree with what I posted.

If you need me to change any of this, Ayrn, or if you want Tate's parts removed, let me know. I will retcon my posts.

I do thin that that Tate should roll a Persuade roll for his addition to the conversation. I will roll it here, but if Ayrn is available to play, then Paul feel free to take it out of game, if you want.



Tate will give a Persuade roll but will invoke his Merry trait to convey a light message even in his weariness
TN 14 persuade 3d

1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 6, 3, total 14

As they continued north, Oderic walked before them while Tate and Esgalwen were side by side. The Dale-man spoke softly to his friend.

"What is wrong, Gwen? Since we came to Stánford...no, since we left the House of Beorn...since our night's walk, you have been angry. You were short with Williferd, and now you snap on Oderic, too. This is not the woman I met in Dale. It is not the woman that laughed as we danced."

Esgalwen walked in silence for a few moments, breathing deeply with each long stride. "I do not know," she said quietly. "I am tired. I am...alone. I feel torn. Sundered between duty of my people and..." she never completed her thought.

"And what?" pressed Tate.

The Dúnadan woman looked at her friend, "And being a woman. Tate, I almost died in the cave of the wolf. I almost succumbed to the darkness of the mires of Dol Guldur. I watched as men of the north sold children to the darkness of the Shadow. Weariness aches my bones. Hope is abandoning me." Esgalwen's words became more rapid, as she released the stress within, "Then, we come here on an errand of urgent need, for one of the few I can truly call friend in these foreign lands. It was murder, you know? And then to be resisted by everyone - to have them all stand against us, even though they knew the deeds were heinous.

"Now if Oderic is innocent, then there is nothing to be feared," she paused for a moment, "but only a guilty man resists his pursuers. Williferd and some of the folk of Stánford are then complicit in that guilt, if guilty he be, because each tried to prevent us." Tate watched as her face hardened and she whispered, "And I no longer have the time, or patience, for such resistance. Evil is evil and it must be stopped and answered for. Three men are dead - one in Stánford and two in the north. It must be stopped."

But at what cost, asked Tate to himself, worried for the woman beside him whose pain and sadness were now clearly visible.

  Totally fine with what you've posted, Doug. Just got back from a 3 day work trip. I have one more week of my crazy summer, solo parenting my brood. If I manage to tuck them in early, I'll try to post. (I'm regularly guilty of falling asleep when reading, though)

After the 12th, I should be more stable and steady.

As far as Tate goes, he's going to continue to pursue Gwen. I need to sort out his feeling.

Peace,
Ayrn

Magrac gives a raucous squawk of assent and with a great beating of wings takes once more to the air, circling towards the north. 

For those who must go on two legs, the way, at least, is easy and clear.  Oderic spends his time silently, brooding on the words of those who will soon cease to be his companions.  Esgalwen likewise stalks wordlessly across the empty lands west of the river, the look in her eyes signalling her wish to avoid conversation as clearly as a door shut and barred.  And so it is left to Tate, when they arrive the following day at the riverbank opposite Stánford, to wave and call out to the fisher-folk in their boats on the river.  In short order, a fisherman steers his craft over toward the three travelers, but his face darkens when he recognises Oderic.  It is clear that it is only the man's deference to the emissaries of Beorn that makes him suffer the presence of the accused murderer. 

Once they disembark on the eastern bank, with a muttered curse from their ferryman, Tate turns to Esgalwen.  Already the small crowd of the village is beginning to gather about them. 

"We'll have to tell them," says the warrior-poet to the ranger.  "They must hear what we have seen, and what you have judged needful to be done." 

The crowd gathered round.

With them came a series of cries, Why is he armed? ... Murderer! ... Call the Elders! ... It is time for judgment! ... Hang him!

Yet in those cries were a few relieved and begging leniency, Oderic is home to us! ... Hear his words! ... Let him speak!

"Enough," said Esgalwen, loud enough to be heard over the throng. "There will be silence for now! By order of Beorn!"

There were a few angry words at her command, but slowly a hush fell over all.

"Good. Yes, Oderic is returned to you, but he is our charge and only until Beorn, or his son, deem it so will any judgement be passed. I say this by order of the Master of these lands, and by command given me, so speak for him." Again, Esgalwen held forth the talisman that Grimbeorn had given her. The ranger looked to one of the young men in the crowd, "You...boy...go to the main hall and inform your elders that we are on our way and that council will be made. Hurry!"

Looking around him, unsure if he should act, the boy saw no one repeal his order and so trotted off in haste. Another man spoke from the crowd, "Very well, Oderic be in your charge, but why does he return to us with weapon in hand. He has slain a man. He should be in shackles."

Tate answered, "Oderic has returned at our behest, but of his own free will. The road was perilous and all able hands needed to be armed, and so he appears before you as such. But see - he also bears the wounds of battle, for battle did come from others cruel and filled with malice. Let us pass for now to speak with your elders, and there in counsel, will all be revealed."

Esgalwen looked to Oderic and spoke to him in a quiet word, but respectful, "Oderic - you are home now and things are as they are. I ask you for your weapon with the understanding that you have mine, and Tate's, word of safety. No harm shall come to you whil'st we speak before the leaders of this clan. Judgement will come only after guilt may be determined." The man stared hard at her. "I also promise that if you be not guilty of crimes against Beorn's men, that only the death of Rathfic is on your hands, then I will plea for leniency and exile on your behalf. It will be a hard life for you, then, but it will be yours."

Esgalwen will roll an Awe roll for the crowd and a Persuade roll for Oderic. If her Fair trait plays into either, she will use her good looks to win hearts. 

As is now her wont, she will make a plea to the Powers for aid and guidance in her rolls 

To command the crowd to silence and send the boy to gather the elders
TN 14 awe 3d

1d12 : 6, total 6
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 4, 1, total 10

To ask Oderic for his weapon
TN 14 (?) persuade 3d

1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 5, 6, total 17

Sweet!

• That should be enough to calm the crowds for now with a 16 success

• My 24 success should be enough to convince Oderic, but I will wait to see what Paul gives us.

Just an FYI, Paul - so that you can add it to your narrative and move the story forward to where you need:

It is Esgalwen's intention to go before the elders and command them to hold Oderic, safely and comfortably, until Beorn or Grimbeorn sends for him, whether that means the folk of Stánford have to trot him north, or if others come to retrieve him.

She will also reveal the death of Williferd and her decision to offer his body to the river. If she has broken customs and angers people, she will be polite but firm in her reasoning, as the threat was great and she did not want to leave the man to bloat on the field. She will not brook any judgement from anyone that was not on the field and in the danger that they were in. She will argue the need of haste for the protection of all, and surely Williferd would appreciate that.

Finally, she will warn of the presence of the Blood Moon Raiders and their numbers. She will request that word be sent - north, east, south, and west - to all Wood-Men clans of the Vale, so that everyone can be prepared. She will kind of play a bit of the duty card and that if undone, the blood of many will be on their hands.

Once she is sure that the council understands, and they will see her wishes done, she will ask for food and drink and they will rest a day and then mount up to ride. Tate will see to any wounds, if there is a healer.

If you want us to RP all the above instead, I am down for that, too.

Low burns the hearth in the great hall of Stánford as Esgalwen and Tate relate the tale of their journey south and across the river, the meeting of the Toft-Men and the death of Williferd.  At they speak, the faces of hard-eyed Ava, wizened Hartwulf and many others gathered to hear the news betray first their shock at Williferd's crimes and attempted flight, then shock at the presence and number of the Blood Moon host, and finally dismay at the manner in which Williferd's body was given over to the wild.  Only Helmgut and Brunhild, standing together against the western wall, show nothing, as if the injuries visited upon them these last few weeks have left them impervious to further ill tidings.

"If it is as you say," Ava says once a few seconds of silence have passed, "then you must bear the news to the house of Beorn that the war drums soon will sound in his lands.  Only remain here tonight, for the weather is turning and the harvest is nearly gathered.  Our fires are warm and our pantries full.  Come the dawn, you may set off with your spirits and supplies refreshed."  This is meet with a murmur of general approval from the assembled crowd.

Ava then looks to her father, who beckons her closer, and waves Helmgut over.  There is a brief, whispered conversation between the three, before Ava one again stands tall and addresses the folk.  "Oderic we will suffer to remain here, on the condition that he bear no weapon and spend each night in the house of Helmgut, his foster-father.  If Lord Beorn's men cannot reach us quickly, then it may be that we will need him, and he may absolve himself in the press of battle."

There come dark mutterings at this, but none raise their voice to dispute what it appears must be.

  Are you looking for more from us here, Paul? Or will you be starting a new thread with us travelling on in the morning? Also, Doug mentioned Tate looking for a little healing touch TLC amongst the villagers? Is that a thing? Can I sing myself some recovery of endurance?

The following morning, with stomachs full of fresh-baked cakes and well-cooked meat, and with bodies somewhat refreshed after a night spent sleeping on soft straw, Esgalwen and Tate set out once more.  Now mounted once more, they spare their horses little as they rush urgently northward, back to where their adventure together began.  Behind them, the folk of Stánford work feverishly to gather the harvest and hide as much as can be hidden before it vanishes into the hungry mouths of the armies that surely approach. 

Above both messengers and peasants, the clouds gather, wheel and collapse, buffeted by the striving and contention of winds from each corner of Middle-Earth in turn. 


One final round of Travel rolls to get you two back to Beorn's House:

Esgalwen

1d12 : 2, total 2
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 4, 2, total 11

Tate

Making some assumptions here, Paul, so correct me if I am wrong. I am using the LM map, obviously in my calculations below.

So...

We are 7 hexes between the House of Beorn and Stánford = 70 miles

Terrain is easy (x1 modifier)

Region is Freelands (TN 12 tests)

Horse back is 40 miles per day (1,5 days travel)

Two Fatigue tests each.

Both Tate and Esgalwen succeed on number 1.

Here is number 2 for us:

Esgalwen
TN 12 travel 3d

1d12 : 5, total 5
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 6, 4, total 15

Tate
TN 12 travel 3d

1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 3d6 : 3, 3, 6, total 12