Payment in Spears

[Eclecticon]

Borne on the south wind, the drums of desperate men! 
Borne on the north wind, the smoke of a burning hall! 
Between two wolves, Beornings to their banners bestir,
One from its lair driven, by greed and hunger made cunning,
One with old hatreds to fresh flame of wrath kindled. 
Cleve now to kin, sons of the vales, the drum beat, the horn blow,
And make sharp the axe and the spear.

Welcome though the reunion is, the return journey is nevertheless hard, cold and thankless, for little have the escaped thralls of Viglund for warmth or provision.  Tate and Esgalwen do what they can to keep spirits up, but it is a chill and weary company who emerge from the Elfwood to beg for food and space by the fire at cattle-herders' cottages.  The Dwarf Polin, never eager to enjoy the company of Men, slips away as the band nears the ruins of the Easterly Inn.  Not even to Anar does he vouchsafe his destination. 

Then, at last, the outriders crest a ridge to find Beorn's House before them, and a host of perhaps ten score encamped nearby, their numbers great enough that some have sought greater comfort without the hedge-gate.  There is, at first, a great commotion at the approach of a party from the north, but once their identity is realised the alarms turn to cries of congratulation and warm welcomes.  Half a dozen fathers cry out Grimbeorn's name, and bow before he who has returned their sons from durance. 

Footsore and half starved, the companions are ushered into the great hall, and given all the comfort that the wondrous beasts within may offer: cakes and cheeses, mead and ale to fill aching bellies, a blazing fire and thick furs to warm wind-scoured backs.  Once their fast is broken, Ingelram sits by Grimbeorn's side.  "Many have heard the call issued by your friends, and though the demands of the harvest keep many at home, many have arrived, as you see.  I would wager that more are still on the road, and that our numbers will swell still further, if there is time enough to wait for them." 

Waiting until Grimbeorn has finished a large swig of mead, he locks eyes with the son of his chieftain.  "You return with clothes torn and bloodied, and without the horses on which you rode north.  This will not go unmarked by the other thanes.  I fear that another enemy has been roused to our north, as will they.  You must gather them to you, to tell them the news and to seek their counsel as to the path forward." 

[tomcat]

Now back within the House of Beorn, Esgalwen spent her time mending and preparing her gear. It was likely that they would soon be off again - north or south - on another great expedition to quell either the Blood Moon Raiders or the Viglundings, and she wanted her armor and bow to be in good repair. The evening was almost upon them and she now sat by a cookfire, weaving arrow heads onto shafts. She prided herself on the fact that she had become a pretty good fletcher over the last few years. Nimronyn sat near her, but the whetstone lay unused as the blade never seemed to dull or notch. Glory to the Elves, she thought.

Grimbeorn had been in counsel with his thegns, over the past few days, while a host gathered outside his palisade. Esgalwen did not interrupt these meetings, instead she spent time with Tate and saw to the needs of Rorin, who was starting to return to health. Around her, there were new faces - some she knew, some she did not - but once more a fellowship was coalescing. Hathcyn the Beorning and a new Dwarf that had been released from the Vigs, named Anar.

Silently, the woman wished for the days before, the days of her former fellowship with Bandy and Arbogast, along with Grimbeorn and Rorin...even Orophin. A shadow crossed her brow, but then was gone. Those were good days - before any were heaped with the responsibility of leadership, or being a father. Esgalwen quietly scolded herself for her thoughts - no greater calling was there than that of a leader or father - and she was absolutely proud of what Grimbeorn and Arbogast had achieved for themselves

It just seemed things had been more... simple.

Even Bandobras, the happy-spirited Hobbit, and the doughty Rorin had moved on to their own callings. It was she that felt left behind. Tate handed her a plate piled with potatoes and some shredded meat, as she set down an arrow. She smiled back at him, but it was quickly lost. The minstrel recognized the look.

"So... are we riding with the folk, once more?" he asked. "Or will you take me up on my offer to dine once more along The Way, Gwen."

A smile. It had been a long time since they had dined together in Dale, along the strip of businesses and inns nicknamed The Way.

"You know I must... and thus, so must you."

"How could I leave you?" laughed the man.

Esgalwen knew his offer to leave was nothing more than humor - Tate would not leave these people in their time of need, just as she could not. Still, he enjoyed lightening her mood with his advances, and she enjoyed that he did.  He had taken to writing poetry and songs, and she was sure she was the subject of one or two, though he vehemently denied it.

"No...no... t'is another woman of which I speak," he would say with a smile. "You're not the only auburn-haired, fair-faced woman that I know! She was friendly and did not suffer such bouts of distress."

The fire popped and the ranger's attention was brought back to the here and now. She scooped some potato and meat into her mouth, set down the plate, and retrieved her arrow. Wiping the grease from her fingers, she commenced her work once more.

It would not be long.

The raiders to the south were said to be moving out of the Wolfswood. They would meet them on the field and put an end to their ravaging.
Again, another flavor narrative while we wait for things to stir.

[Eclecticon]

By the hearth sit the Beorning thegns.  Proud Æthelwold Red-Eyes, Ingelram of the Leap, Walcaud Shield-Gnawer and others have gathered for to give their sword-day counsel to the son of their chieftain.  With them also are those closest to Grimbeorn, whose shed blood has mingled with his and who have shared his hardships and his triumphs: Tate and Esgalwen, his hand on her shoulder as she affixes arrow-heads to shafts one after the other, Hathcyn and Harhold, their wounds freshly healed and the still-livid scars a badge of their honourable service, Rorin, mail-clad, dour-faced, and Anar, who he has brought as a witness and who will fight in his stead while the Roadmaker prepares a missive to the King Under the Mountain.  

"It's a right mess we have, and no mistake," exclaims Claudas Bare-legs, twirling the tip of his long-bladed knife on the floorboards before him.  "Foes both north and south!"  

"Leave it," growls Ingelram.  "Grimbeorn set out to return our sons taken in battle, and that he did without paying a single cup of milk, and while demonstrating to the Viglundings that he fears them not, and why.  If he has brought on a war, then it is nothing less than many here wished his father would do, when we gathered for the moon-sickle trials."  

There arises a hubbub of protest and accusation, which subsides only when Walcaud barks "still your tongues for a while and think clearly!  What is done cannot be undone, and it is given to us only to make the best of what we can.  He," he says, indicating Grimbeorn with a respectful wave, "has a decision to make, and must make it well, for one son already have I seen buried this season and am loath to see another.  War is upon us, but who ought we fight, and where?"  

"Two hundred and twenty strong is our host," muses Æthelwold.  "No more arrived this day, and I would wager that all those whom the harvest would spare have already arrived.  Minstrel," he says, turning to Tate, "how many of the Blood-moon folk stand against us?"  

"I saw them not with my own eyes," Tate quickly answers, "but Esgalwen, Ranger of Gondor, counted at least eighty, and likely more that she could not espy."  

"Then it is an easy decision," says old Wulfdas Ram's-blood (though he whistles a little around many missing teeth).  "We go south, drive the Blood-moons before us with our greater numbers and return to face what may come from Viglund."  

"I doubt that it will be so easy," interjects Claudas.  "From what I hear, they have come not as a band of raiders but as a people on the march.  If they are driven from Stánford, it will be without provisions and into the teeth of the oncoming winter.  Viglund may fight for wounded pride, and we may in defence of our homeland, but they will fight for the lives of their wives and children.  Not lightly will they give up what they have come to take from us."  

"Is your counsel that we should simply leave them, then, and let Stánford fall beneath their yoke?"  

"Aye, for now, and turn our men towards driving away Viglund and his people, who will surely seek their revenge."  

"In time, surely," counters Ingelram, "but not yet, I think.  Viglund's house was burned, and will need to be rebuilt before winter, and his folk will surely be as busy with the harvest as our own.  Viglund has shown patience in the past.  He will bide his time and strike in the summer, with as many men as will follow him."  

"So think ye," asks Æthelwold, sceptically.  "while his own daughter abides here, with his enemy?  For such things have whole clans cast aside reason in favour of blood-lust."  

"You weren't there," Hathcyn exclaims, surprising himself as much as anyone.  In the sudden silence, he continues, "you saw not how little he cared for her, nor she for him.  She is a fine reward for one of his thegns.  Nothing more."  

Walcaud stands and stretches, something in his back giving an audible 'pop'.  "The Longspear is right.  None of us have seen what we discuss."  Looking one by one to the companions, old and new, he asks "you who have, what have you to say?"  


So, as I seem to have let my initial post without much of a hook for character action, I'm explicitly throwing the floor open.  Feel free to chime in with reactions (external and otherwise), options for action, vows of epic vengeance etc.  

[Paladin003]

Anar who had been listening quietly while stuffing his face downed the last of his ale. He stood up and stepped forward to make his presence known.

"My companion and I were...captives. For a time. We'd all but given up hope of freedom until this lot showed up and saved us. I, Anar son of the Iron Hills, have a debt to be paid. And I intend to make good on that debt. If you'll have me, I'll go wherever ye need."

[Telcontar]

On the journey back Hathcyn spoke much with the dwarves. From them he learned a great deal about orcs and war. Knowledge that they all expected would be useful in the days to come.

Upon their return to the hall Hathcyn was not idle. As the warriors assembled the  former captives needed succor and aid for not all of those who traveled with them were of the folk of Beorn or had kin in these parts. So when safety was reached his hand was free with the hoard of Viglund. To each who had suffered loss or death or a burned homestead a few coins made there way into their hands. It was small succor for their loss, but it was fitting that the hoard of Viglund paid for the crimes of Viglund's folk. To each he smiled and reassured and to each the same words were spoken.

"May this lighten your burdens until the day of full repayment comes."

And thus the deeds of Grimbeorn were magnified again by the generosity that flowed from him into the hands of the suffering.

To the young and strong Hathcyn also gave food, a welcoming word to those from far lands, and the offer of arms from the armory of the Beornings. Few refused him, for their own wrath was white hot and it was not from Hathcyn alone that the treatment of the Beornings was spread among the folk. The tale of the honor duel grew in the telling and soon the tale of the harrowing of north spread throughout the camp and beyond.

The coins he gave with a free hand, but the other items of the hoard he set aside to do with as Grimbeorn saw fit. All that is save four.

He went then to Aestid.

" In your father's hall you were a thing. A servant at need, a tool for an alliance, but you have come from the shadow and brought light with you. In the Hall of Beorn you shall not be thought a slave."

He gave her then a great wolf pelt and two owl brooches taken from the hoard. Unknowing to Hathcyn the brooches once belonged to her mother, though her father kept them in hoard. Then he gave her a heavy torc of silver and a gold rimmed horn.

" and these are given to you for your bride price so your honor may stay separate from that of your father and brother and your station maintained."

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn had more to say at this council, but first looked to Grimbeorn. The Wolfslayer nodded and he continued.

"The power of Viglund is not as great as we might think. Truly his wrath is kindled and burns deep but what strength does he have? If he had the power he would have overcome us in the open when we were vulnerable and on our way south. Now that the fire of his hall has cooled he will find that his burdens have increased. Now not only will he need to repair his hall, but his reputation.

"To those he ruled by fear they now see a Lord who has lost his house, his slaves, and his daughter to only two of our folk."

Hathcyn smiled, "I assure you he has also lost the means to pay them for their loyalty."

"For those who followed him out of ancient loyalty he has shown his son to be a drunken sot incapable of lordship and has, if not by his own design than the allowing of it, profaned the ancient customs of both hospitality and single combat.

These double blows will be hard to recover from. Viglund is no fool. A hasty battle now before he can get a handle on his folk would spell is doom in victory or in defeat of any battle. No, I would think he would stoke the fires of revenge and insult to all his folk in order to mask his weakness and gather his strength. A raid maybe we will see this year, but open war he can not risk. This suits us, for surely the Folk of Durin would join us in the spring when word has reached their king.

This leaves us with the Blood Moon raiders. This is a force already prepared for war and on the move. If we move south those who have not assembled here but capable of bearing arms will swell our numbers. For it is their homes we would be protecting. If we called upon the guards of the fords and the toll takers that would perhaps give us a score more as well. If battle is joined and won a watch may be set in the north and preparations and alliances made to settle this feud either in battle or some other means and bring peace to north and south."

[Paladin003]

Anar looks around a little embarrassed. Shuffling his feet a little he spoke up,

"I uh...lost me gear and weapons to those who captured me. You wouldn't happen to have anything suitable for a dwarf would ye?"

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn sat and listened like his father did to the arguments and counter-arguments, the fawning and preening, and stratagems these Men who call themselves Beorning out of oath only, knowing naught what truly lies beneath that name.  When he tired of it as no knowledge nor wisdom more could be gained, he raised a hand for silence.  It didn't come immediately but only after his man pounded his staff and raised his voice to those that were most defiant of his standing gave way their secret whisperings.

"When I left, I did not seek out any of this conflict but to regain my friend and any of the captives Viglund held of our people.  Viglund and his son both were of irrationale mind, with no desire of peace or the slightest bit of honor.  Yet, of those I fought, they were with honor and even gave an ear to my words of peace and honor.  If they had not, fewer of our people would have returned.  The man's daughter, Aestid, no less was key to their escape than I and she should be commended for her bravery."

"Yet, in all directions we have foes.  To the North, the Viglundings and further distant, to whom they would bandy with, the goblins of Gundabad.  To the south, these Blood Moon raiders.  To the West, the goblins and wargs of the Misty Mountains.  To the east, the spiders and other fell creatures of Mirkwood.  Thinking one or two without paying heed to the other spells doom for any of our plans.  Aye, we have foes, but we have allies just as great, if not moreso.  The Woodmen to the south, whom would also be in peril from the Raiders.  The Elves of Mirkwood and beyond those of Dale and The Mountain."

"We can move pieces and make plans but it all counts for nothing if we don't have more information.  We must seek to know the mind of Viglund and catch any further word of these Raiders.  Though he might seem level-headed, he is as far as it extends for I wouldn't count out a move by his son.  The goblins of the Misty Mountains have been quiet and that is an ill we cannot discount at any season, and the Mirkwood threat has been quiet for far longer -- but these I would let fall aside for now in our deliberations.  Before we make any major decisions, I believe we must send 2 small parties on horseback to search out signs of the Raiders and another to see about the Viglundings.  Any further large movements of men must be made under the cover of night lest we are being watched here.  In addition, messengers will be sent to our allies for any aid they might spare, though most are maybe too far away to reach us.  I will seek help from our beast-friends too.  Send word to your people that they make ready for any raid that might come and for them to either make for the Carrock or this hall."

[Eclecticon]

Okay, this is just a quick game-mechanics note - look for a proper post late Saturday evening, Ohio time.  Mike, Anar can get re-equipped without any trouble - Hathcyn has his mail shirt, and (being Dwarf-sized) it won't be much good to anyone else around here.  Beorn doesn't keep a huge armory, but he'll have a serviceable greataxe around (though it'll need some sharpening after probably having been used as a wood axe for years). 

Matt and Tom, I think that, based on the narration above (which is pretty cool!) I'll count the distribution of the Treasure towards improving Grimbeorn and Hathcyn's social standing.  Keep a tally of what's been spent (or spent on your behalf) - I've done the same for Arbogast with a view to actually doing an undertaking when I've spent the right total amount.  I suggest a breakdown of 16/4, but you two can argue that out as you see fit. 

[Eclecticon]

North and south, the riders speed at Grimbeorn's command, and the thegns return to their followers to counsel patience and watchfulness.  As the evening deepens, the wise among Beorn's folk go among the beasts of the moonlight fields and forests, spreading the call for aid.  Then it is time to wait... 


More to come!  Watch this space!

[GandalfOfBorg]

  I'm thinking that Grimbeorn may seek counsel of the Eagles if at all possible.
He'd go himself if you believe he would know how to go about it and it was something that wouldn't take him too far or long to accomplish.

[Eclecticon]

Well, you're in charge - it's your call.  It's a minimum of three days to get to where it's reputed to be (the Fellowship has never been there).  So that's the best part of an additional week that your men will be sitting around waiting for something to happen.  On the other hand, the Great Eagles would be tremendous allies. 

Is he speaking his thoughts out loud?  If so, we can do some IC discussion of the question.

[GandalfOfBorg]

"I have a thought that may lend us both a powerful ally or at least more information: the Great Eagles whose eyeries are to the west of us.  They have helped men and dwarves in the past, and they have no love for destruction or those that might aid the orcs and goblins.  They a few days away as man travels though to seek their counsel."

[Telcontar]

"What about taking counsel with the Wizard? Surely he would be of some aid and may even know the counsels of the Eagles."

[GandalfOfBorg]

"Aye, he would be good too, but both present a problem of distance which means time lost."