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Old 01-10-2006, 04:04 AM   #1
Envinyatar
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The hmmmph! from the wren was cut off as Stamo plucked him from his shoulder and held him up to his face. ‘Hush!’ he whispered letting the bird balance on his finger. ‘The Green Man’s ale has made you bold, and we will not always be near to act as your protectors.

And besides,’ Mori interjected, speaking to both his companion and the wren. ‘This is a special set of days in this part of Middle-earth, or so I am given to believe by what’s been told to me. There is a truce of sorts in effect, enmities are put aside for this short while, and tolerance come to the fore.’ He turned back to where Tevildo and his friends were standing. ‘Your pardon, please. We’ve been less than welcoming. Come, sit near the coals and warm yourselves. And then, of course, your story, please.’

The poor wren was beginning to shiver in the cold, and Stamo tucked him back inside a pocket in his cape. There were a string of short exclamations, muffled by the thick wool of the cape. And just as well . . . Stamo could just make out another hmmph! and a mumbled sore losers! followed by whiner!.

Luckily, for the peace of the gathering and the sake of a tale yet to be told, Stamo’s body heat and the soft, thick warmth of the pocket overcame the wren’s feisty attitude. Soon, the only sounds escaping from the folds of the robe were that unmistakable sounds of the bird’s beaky snore.
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Old 02-01-2006, 04:02 AM   #2
Arry
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The three Halflings had sat quiet as mice at their table. Willem had recovered from his fright reasonably well; the Green Man’s ale having helped considerably. Though the entrance of Wenda clothed only in a hastily thrown on robe and the hearing of her story had begun to put the wind up him again. And even his two more stout willed brothers, Andwise and Madoc, were beginning to feel a bit squeamish.

‘I knew it! I knew it!’ Willem said, a slight edge of hysteria coming into his voice. ‘We should have listened to gaffer Tolly. He said his knees were telling him a bad storm was brewing and we shoulda stayed home.’

‘You great ninny,’ Madoc said, pouring his brother another mug of ale. ‘His knees tell him about rain and hail and snow and such. Not the kind of storm we’ve run into here.’ He drummed his fingers on the table in irritation. ‘We get home again and you’re never dragging me back this way. Altogether too strange the doings ‘round here in the winter.’

Andwise was only half listening to the banter between his brothers. His mind was elsewhere . . . on the story the woman by the fire, Wenda, had told.

Of the three brothers, he was the trapper. His snares and traps were the bane of those animals he hunted for meat or pelt, from bird to boar. His eyes flicked to where Wenda sat. Would she be the bait, he wondered. Would she have to at all? Could the creature be enticed by something else? And what would it take to kill such a creature? Ordinary iron?

He watched Goody as she fussed again with the Yule log. A shaft from the log, perhaps. Sharpened to a killing point. Yes . . . that might work. With a bow trap, the sort used to kill the big boars.

‘Of course, it would most likely have to have some bodily form. But then wouldn’t it have some sort of body in which it moved about. We could kill the body, I’m fairly certain of that. But should we be worried about what might escape?’

The room had grown quiet. Andwise looked up from the shallow puddle of ale on the table in which he’d been drawing his plans for a trap. He’d spoken aloud without thinking. His brow furrowed at the attention.

‘The wight,’ he said, as if the two words were all the explanation needed. ‘I’m sure we could trap and kill it. Just need to know a bit more about it.’

‘Are you daft!’ spluttered Madoc. Willem said nothing . . . he’d fainted again.
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Old 02-01-2006, 01:10 PM   #3
Folwren
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Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
Berrick Andrail, having slept like a log well into the morning, missed the excitement and the dread caused by the coming of the reindeer with the empty sledge and what had followed afterwards, but when he entered the wide room with the fire at the end of it, and people scattered about, he became instantly aware of the spirit of fear that drifted about the room. He stopped in the doorway, an exclamation of merry greeting checked on his lips. His dark eyes moved over the entirety of the gathering there.

A couple of women sat by the fire, and two other men stood nearby. A young boy, the helper here at the Green Man, sat by the kitchen door, his hand on a dog’s head. And then, lastly, he noticed the three Haflings that were there last night, again sitting at the table. The one had fainted again. What for, Berrick had no idea, but he was about to find out.

He meant to ask the lad sitting closest to him what had happened, but Bergir stood up, not having noticed him, and walked towards the fire, having been invited by one of the women there. Berrick shrugged slightly, and decided to take his inquiry to the hobbits - at least to one of the two who were still conscious.

“Good morning, friends,” he said, walking towards them. They both glanced up, and one answered with a nod and a quiet ‘good morning.’ “I’ve just arrived here,” Berrick said, “slept a bit late, I’ll admit. But what’s the trouble? The party isn’t too merry this morning.”
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Old 02-01-2006, 07:11 PM   #4
Arry
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Madoc and Willem respond to Berrick

Madoc had propped Willem’s head on the table, resting it on the unconscious Halfling’s arms. He could already hear the small moan from his brother’s lips which signaled the nearing return to some level of sensibility.

He pushed away his mug of ale, and called for the server to bring a large pot of hot, strong tea, a pot of honey, and two . . . no, three cups. ‘No . . . best make that four mugs.’ He eyed Berrick as the man approached the table. ‘And a plate of buns and cheese, too,’ he cried to the server just as he pushed open the door to go into the kitchen.

‘Have a seat, please. And don’t mind my brother. He’ll come round once he gets a whiff of the food and tea.’ He pointed to a chair opposite his brother and him. ‘You’re Master Andrail, aren’t you? I’m Madoc. Have some tea with us, if you will. Good story you told last night. Scared the wits out of Willem here!’

Willem had managed to raise his head as the server plopped down a plate of buns, a good sized piece of cheese, and the tray with the tea and honey. He looked at his brother, Madoc, and at the guest at their table. Andwise, he noted had got up and gone over to stand by Old Goody for the moment.

‘It was awful!’ he told Berrick, mumbling a bit as he took a bite of bun and cheese. ‘There was awful sounds last night. Like some beast prowling the forest. And then Mistress Wenda there . . . well, her sleigh and reindeer came back with out her and all in a panic they seemed. Then another reindeer came a little later bounding into the courtyard and all wild-eyed and such. And I’ll eat my vest if it didn’t turn into Mistress Wenda herself.’ He took a large gulp of tea. ‘Well they brought her in and she told of some wightish sort of thing what’s been chasing her from the village she’d visited up north. Very scary, bad, bad thing. And well, she’s here and the thing most likely is still after her . . . and we’re here . . . and oh my . . .’

Willem’s head hit the table with a thunk.

‘He’s got it mostly right,’ said Madoc, propping his brother’s head once again. ‘Andwise, over there by Granny, has set his mind on the problem, and I’m sure others here in the room are sorting it out, too.’ He poured a cup of tea, offering it to the man. ‘I guess we just sit tight, til we’ve come up with a plan of some sort and can act on it.’ He looked at Willen who was still out cold. ‘Some of us anyway . . .’

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Andwise speaks to Goody

Andwise was deep in conversation with Old Goody. He leaned forward in his chair, his face a study in serious thought. One hand had strayed down beside him and was resting on the part of the Yule log that jutted out across the hearth. ‘Now, I’m not saying it is or it isn’t . . .’ Andwise’s voice trailed off, not sure of his footing on the question they’d been discussing. ‘Do you understand Granny what I’m meaning? You have your own ways in these parts. And I’m wondering if you think those ways will aid us?’

Last edited by Arry; 02-01-2006 at 09:31 PM.
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Old 02-02-2006, 01:48 AM   #5
Undómë
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Goody gave Andwise a long, considering look. The Yule had brought such a mix of peoples, of creatures, really, to the Green Man this year. She wondered what fates had conspired to make it so.

‘For one who does not follow the old ways as we do here, you are a most respectful fellow.’ Goody shifted uneasily on her chair. Despite the warmth of the fire, she had a chill within that could not be touched. It made her old bones ache; her face pale, though the heat bathed her cheeks. ‘’Twill most like be my last Yule to see done,’ she thought to herself. ‘Best I see it through most full’s I can.’

Her gaze turned back to the Halfling. ‘Aye, lad. I think they’ll help as is in their power.' Goody half closed her eyes and sang a little song she'd learned as a girl.

Now thankéd be the great Green Man
He who walked ‘fore we began
Hunter, stag , reaper, sower
Blood that flows through leaf and flower
Shelter us from future strife,
And grant us glad and healthy life.


'There’s some evil, though, as throws its shadow from before the Green Man’s time. Be needing something like to match it.’ She flicked her eyes to where the two tall men were now sitting, speaking quietly to each other.

‘Now what was it you had in mind, Master Andwise?’ she asked turning back to him. ‘Sharpened shafts of wood from the Yule log I heard you say. Powerful they'd be. But how do you plan to use them?’

Last edited by Undómë; 02-02-2006 at 01:56 AM.
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Old 02-02-2006, 10:17 PM   #6
littlemanpoet
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littlemanpoet is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.littlemanpoet is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
Wenda sat before the heat of the Yule fire, feeling the last chill leave her fingers. She sighed. Mara had been quiet, sitting beside her, in a calming way. Here was one at last that Wenda felt she could have as friend.

White Paw was watching Wenda, his nose twitching inquisitively. He looked to have a wolf in his forebears, not so many whelpings agone. With the heat of the fire, his mouth opened in a big smile, his quick tongue sticking out between his two wolf teeth. Wenda smiled and reached out a welcoming hand. He sniffed it and touched it with his tongue, then looked up at her and smiled the more.

"He likes you," the boy said.

"And I him," Wenda said. She scratched White Paw behind the ears. "Maybe I should take me dogs to my sledge once Pada and Muna have done. Not long now."

Wenda frowned. Such talk was foolishness. She was not like to live out the the next day or so. She could overhear talk here and there, all of it seemingly including her own name. And plans, she heard them saying. What plan might one make against something as fell as that? Surely it was beyond any of them! Goody seemed to understand that; but then she had looked askance at Stamo and Mori.

Wenda spoke up.

"Goody," she said, kneading the fur under White Paw's neck, "do you know somewhat?"
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Old 02-03-2006, 06:42 PM   #7
Arry
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Andwise paused in his explanation of how he planned to use a ringed series of bow traps to pin the creature firmly to a tree. They were the sort of traps he had used before in the hunting of the massive wild pigs found in the forest of the north country. Too big for one or even several of his fellow Hobbits to handle with stave and nets, this had been the most effective way they’d developed to bring down one of the tuskers.

He’d wondered about Goody’s comment – the evil that had come before her Green Man. And so he stepped back out of the way, giving Goody a clear view of Wenda. Perhaps the woman’s question to her would give him a clearer idea of what more would be needed.
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