Elves in the Bower

[tomcat]

It was like a whirlwind for the companions. They had just returned to Rhosgobel and already they packed their gear for another ride north.

Arbogast was the most troubled by it, as his home and family were but a short ride east and he hadn't seen them for close to a year. His daughters were growing and he wondered if they were now toddling about the homestead. He prayed to the Powers that they were all well, but no news had come to him telling him differently. Only that the Black Tarn itself was becoming more dangerous, which only increased his worry.

Save for weariness, the others were not worried about moving on again. In fact, the Halfling was excitedly anticipating the next leg of their journey. The companions readied the horses with traveling gear and hard tack. They did not know how long they would be gone, or where the travels would take them and so they prepared for the worst, but hoped for the best. It was decided that Udo would ride with Esgalwen - partially because she had brought him, and also because a friendship was growing. Esgalwen was pleased to see her horse again - returned here to Rhosgobel by Arbogast and Grimbeorn. The two men had led her horse back, too, when they found that all three were safe in Beorn's stockades.

The day was spent with preparations and then they returned to the long house for food and drink. The Fellowship would leave with the rising of the sun. And so, when bellies were full and tongues were tired they made their way to their beds and fell into restful sleeps. Only Morirúsë espied the Brown Wizard as he silently entered each of the companions rooms and took their weapons from where they lay.

"What are you up to, old man?" inquired the Elf in a whisper.

"I send these young people out to face an enemy of a type that they have only once confronted. I will not let them go with mere weapons of Men."

"And you have the craft to make Shadow bane weapons?"

"My crafts are many, but it is my place to advise the folk of this world. I will leave it to those who possess Middle-earth and who have the craft to enhance these blades."

Morirúsë immediately knew who the wizard spoke of - Elves. In particular, Noldorin Elves, and there were only two places where such craftsmen resided. "Do you have wings, Radagast? Can you spirit yourself away and return with the sun bearing gifts that these Second-comers perhaps do not deserve?"

"You underestimate these folk at your peril, Morirúsë. Great are their deeds thus far and many more will they have before them. Do not discount them, for was it not Men that aided the Noldor long ago against the Unnamed One? He that was cast out through the Doors of Night?"

The Noldo knew this to be true, but it was Fingolfin and his sons that took the Second-born as allies. The Sons of Fëanor - the house he still served though none now lived, save perhaps one - made use of their aid, but never gave them dominion over any of their lands. And so to Radagast's questions, Morirúsë merely grunted.

The reaction caused the wizard to scowl. "No matter," he said, dismissing Morirúsë with a wave, "Yes, I can fly...or at least my friends can."

The Noldorin Elf walked out of the small house in which the Company slept, to watch as Radagast strode towards a great shadow in the night and climbed atop its back. "Come now Gwaihir, we have far to go and much to do before the sun rises again."

There was a rush of air as the eagle swept its great wings outward and flapped into the night. Morirúsë continued to watch as long as his Elf-sight would allow, as the great bird disappeared to the west.
Give me some time tonight to determine what 'gifts' I can come up with as enchantments laid upon your weapons.

These rewards will not be counted among those you earn with advancements.

[Telcontar]

Morirúsë watched long before he fadded from sight, the wizard had not been wrong in all he said. If the story he heard about the companions  fighting the Specter of Gundabad and the great spiders of the forest were true they were courageous fighters. The wizard was wrong in one point only, his master had invited the Folk of Haleth into his service. They had declined. Overlate it was that Caranthir saw their worth, and in that battle they fought like beasts brought to bay in a last desperate fight. This place reminded him a little of those sanctuaries of old that the Edain had built, though he again turned his mind from dwelling to much on memories of the old days.

Returning to the sleeping space the elf took a piece of rolled birch from among his things and in the fadding light of the fire he began to sketch a picture of Esgalwen and Udo as he had seen them first in the forest. With quick and slow strokes the Elf spent the time before dawn bring fine detail to his work. The picture almost done, he tossed the bark into the fire and whispered to himself, "love not too well the work of thy hands Noldo Elf."

[tomcat]

Elrond watched the eagle land and Radagast slide from its great back. He smiled as the old man hobbled forward, leaning on his staff and carrying his burden under his other arm.

A sword. Two bearded axes. A spear.

"Hello, old friend," said the Master of Rivendell. The moon shone brightly above the vale.

"I come with their items. It is my wish that your craftsmen might be able to aid them in their task. Can it be done?"

"Whatever powers that the Elves still keep here within the bounds of Middle-earth shall be put forth, but long gone are the days of the great makers."

"Yes, I know," answered Radagast. "The destruction of Eregion erased the world of crafts and makers that shall not be seen again. Even the Dwarves and Númenóreans could not achieve their abilities. Yet I know that within your house, Master Elrond, some still here keep that knowledge."

"It is true. Come, time is short and there is much to do."

And so the forges of Rivendell were fired and those Elven-smiths that had worked their crafts when Beleriand still was above the waves took the weapons of the Fellowship.

Udo's spear was quickly determined to be of crude and simple make, and so instead a spear was chosen from Elrond's armory. Its haft was shortened to the same length as that preferred by the Halfling, and thus set aside until the rest of the weapons had been treated.

Nimronyn and the two axes were shown great respect, for the Elves could see that they had been crafted by smiths of great skill, but there were things that could be done. The hafts were removed and the axe-heads were set within the fire. Esgalwen's sword's pommel, grip and hilt were removed and its length from tip to tang was also fired.

Heated to great temperature - greater than what could be achieved by Men - the weapons were hardened along their edges. Keen and grievous they were made, but superior to what they had been, and when done they were set to cool. The sword was reassembled and soft leather was wrapped around its grip. The two axe-heads were placed on new hafts of hardwood of a kind that only grew within the protection of Rivendell. Each were measured to the same length as that previously removed, and leather was wrapped where each weapon would be gripped.

Once done, the weapons were sent to the white-smiths in Elrond's house. Here the metal was worked in elegant inscriptions - the sigil of the House of Anárion was laid into the metal of Nimronyn. Esgalwen was not of direct descent, but it was this house that her line had served back to the days of Númenór. A bear's head was inscribed into Bear Claw and a tree into the Warden's Axe. Along with the sigils representing each of the weapons' owners, were placed runes of Elven work. Into these runes were laid spells of keeping and banes to the Enemy.

Lastly, the Elven handmaidens of Rivendell worked through the night on sheathes for each weapon - crafted of fine leathers and made so that none of the weapons contained would show tarnish for all of their days.

***************************

The sun was rising as Gwaihir swooped down over the Anduin Vale. The river sparkled below like a golden ribbon across the land. Radagast was pleased. They would make it to Rhosgobel before breakfast was finished. He smiled to himself as he thought of the companions rummaging about, looking for their items.

[tomcat]

Awesome post, Tom!

Remember, too, that Haleth declined but Maedhros made alliance with Ulfang the Easterling who took up residence within the realm of Caranthir. Ulfang's betrayal caused Caranthir to lose his lands and retreat to  Amon Ereb.

So - Morirúsë may have a bit of spite towards Men because of this, too. Just food for story! 

[Telcontar]

  oh the doubt of faithlessness is waiting for a chance to come out too! Still working on getting a feel for this guy.

[Eclecticon]

Reluctantly, Arbogast stirs from his bed beneath one of the large tables of the hall.  Standing and stretching quietly, so as not to disturb the many folk who still slumber around him, he spies the company's weapons neatly arranged in a pyramid by the hearth, like a well-banked fire.  Puzzled, he looks to Morirúsë, who sits nonchalantly, his countenance giving no hint of what went on in the moonlit hours.  The Fire-watcher cocks an eyebrow at the Elf.  What has taken place here, he clearly means, and how are you involved?


I'll never gripe about any part of my kit being improved, but it's kind of a shame that all the attention's being lavished on an already-enchanted axe.  The shield is more what Arbogast has always been about. 

[Telcontar]

"Twas no trick of mine, Woodman. In the dark of night they rose from your sides and took flight, then returned glowing with dweomer craft and stacked themselves by the fire."

Morirúsë smiled. "Wizadry mortal man, wizadry."

Arbogast detected the hint of a joke, but also that in substance the story were true. He also noted that already the elf's speech was adapting to the current speach of his folk.

"Today we hunt the beast, and on this day your deeds will draw closer to the great stories of your sires of long ago. Let us get the others."

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn was roused by the talk by Arbogast and their new "boon" companion.  "I've heard that Elves haven't slept since the time before time and that it is their mouths running that have kept them awake since," he yawned.  Upon seeing what happened with the weapons, he was a bit perturbed that his ancestral weapon had been taken but hefting it and inspecting the work, he gave a grunt of approval.  "Let's roused the others, the hunt can't come soon enough."

[tomcat]

Weapon changes have been added to all PC sheets  

Understand that if you had originally purchased Keen or grievous for your weapon, the Elves made it Superior Keen or Grievous. The benefit is just increased to the superior bonus and the original cost of Keen or Grievous is still part of your PC's Valour rewards usage.
The companions rode in silence.

It would take them the full day to reach Woodmen-town, as they skirted the woods, riding instead along the western eaves. It did not offer any cover for them, but it made for quicker travel. There was no fear, too, of a horse harming itself from the unsure footing under the boughs. Roots of Mirkwood grew thick and they could twist the ankle of any traveler.

Song birds sung and insects buzzed in the late summer heat, but the sounds were not common - or normal. They were more a warning. The feeling of the forest was ever present, as if it watched their passage. Arbogast felt it - though he could not put his finger on it. Mirkwood seemed more oppressive now, more so than it ever had. The shade under the leaves was more threatening like it hid new secrets and foes. He had always been careful in the woods and treated it with great respect, but now there was something more...something...evil.

The man could not shake the feeling. He wondered if it was just in his mind. All of the talk of spiders, wolves, ghosts, and more, along with all he had done and seen - was it just amplifying his own fear? The potential threat to his family - was that the problem? Arbogast stared into the trees and thought of the beauty there, but it was quickly suppressed by images of Dol Guldur and the bridge; the horrific green mist that hung over the moat; the terrible Shadow in the hills of the northern vales. He shook his head and expected the cobwebs of fear and doubt to disappear...but they did not.

"What is wrong?" came the pleasant voice of Esgalwen, as she rode up next to him. "You look like something is about to bite you."

The trill of her laughter at her joke both eased Arbogast's nerves, but also upset him. She should not make light of this place, he thought.

The sun crossed the sky as the miles passed.

At long last, they turned east and entered the woods. They would ride for ten miles, or so, under the leaves until they came to the river and the hill upon which sat the town.

It was dusk when they arrived and the gate wardens monitored their approach. As soon as the Fellowship was within ear shot, a call was made to halt their advance.

"Oi! The hour is dark and strangers at the gate need stop a'distance. State your names and business at this hour. Be quick, or be on your way back the way you came!"

[Telcontar]

"madiglihe, as you are saving your words for winter I shall announce you."

Morirúsë pitched his voice deep and loud.

"Grimbeorn Madiglihe son of Beorn has come, with his companions. Throw open your rude gate and praise him with great praise!"

[tomcat]

Grimbeorn "Honey Eater"... wow, this Elf may truly be a dick.     

[tomcat]

The two guards on the gate looked to each other at the mention of the name.

"Let the scion of House Beorn come forth and speak for himself. We ask that he ride up to the gates while his banner-men await our decision."

[GandalfOfBorg]

The Beorning bristles at being spoken for, no less in imitation of his own voice.  He mutters something under his breath regarding Elves and their suspect lineages as he proceeds forth.  Though people of this village are known to him and his folk, he approaches with caution.  His visage bears no less a scowl than when he was called forward.  "With whom shall I speak to gain entrance?  The road is long and weary, for we hunt the scourge of these wood."

[tomcat]

In the grey of dusk, the hulking shape of Grimbeorn can be seen below and is quickly recognized. The Beorning had been to Woodmen-town before and many had marked his shape and appearance.

The guard on the gate shouts an answer, "Forgive us Master Grimbeorn! These days, the wood spills forth more dangers than certainties. Due to the hour, we needed to make sure. You and your company are welcome!"

With that, the wooden gates were unbarred and they swung open to allow entrance. As the Fellowship rode through the arch, they could feel the watch's eyes upon them. These men were being very cautious. Something was wrong.

They wound their way through the village streets, passing through the second palisade until the House of Balthi was seen. Soft light glowed from within welcoming their arrival. They dismounted and strode the few remaining steps to the hall and opened the doors. Inside, the folk of Woodmen-town were finishing up the day's feast. A minstrel played music while a trio performed acrobatics. On the opposite side of the table, a huntsman was holding his longbow with its string to his cheek, though no arrow was nocked. Other men around him spoke and questioned him in regards to its use.

The first face to be recognized was Fridwald the Runner - the man had attended the Folk-moot years passed, representing the folk of Woodmen-town. He looked up from his seat on the dais and saw the newcomers. He held up a hand and the music stopped, as well as the cacophony of talking soon after.

"I recognize these face! T'is Grimbeorn of the Carrock, and Arbogast, now of the Black Tarn! Welcome travelers! Come, take rest at our table and we shall fill you a cup."

From his left, Arbogast heard a familiar voice. "Welcome home, brother."

He turned to see the fiery-red hair of his younger brother, Oeric.

[Telcontar]

Morirúsë dismounted and gazed at the light coming from the house.

"Esgalwen, what light from yon window breaks? Tis a strange and wonderous light me thinks and no hands of Mannish smith had the make of it, nor Gonnhirrim in secreted halls. What know you of this?"