The Yule Log RPG

[Tevildo]

Tevildo's post

By the time Tevildo awoke from his sleep, most of the Inn's servants were bustling about the Inn and its grounds, clearing up the considerable mess that had been left over from the night before. Breakfast was being served in the common room. Several guests had arisen early, finished off a platter of biscuits and eggs, and were now joining in the general effort to repair fences and gates as well as to chop up fallen branches that could be used for the firepit.

Tevildo watched all this activity with great interest but without the slightest desire to participate or help anyone. Once he thought no one was looking, he tried out his legs and, to his great delight, discovered that he could now walk from one end of the room to the other, if only with a pronounced limp. He had to admit that under the circumstances he had not done badly. He was nestled in a snug box with piles of blankets in which to luxuriate. He could feel the warmth radiating from the stove as well as the pale winter sunlight that stole in from a window just above.

Before he'd drifted off to sleep, he had heard two of the fellows discussing his deeds in such laudatory terms that even Tevildo could think of no reason to complain. These same fellows dropped by every now and then, scratching him behind the ear, and leaving choice tidbits that he could eat.

Tevildo had always viewed domestic house cats with disdain, thinking them almost the lowest form of life in Arda. After all, what was life without an adventure and a bit of fighting? Still, he was now beginning to have serious second thoughts. It was so pleasant to have folk cater to him. He rubbed against their legs and purred and saw admiration reflected in their eyes. These poor two-legged did seem to have a definite weakness for fluffy white cats, and Tevildo was not adverse to getting out of them everything that could be got.

By the time the servers had finished cleaning up from breakfast, Tevildo had made his decision. It would not be admiss to spend a spot of time at the Green Man; he could bask in the warmth of the common room and charm the guests out of good chunks of their dinners. On the side, he could also make life miserable for wren and the other twittering chits. He might be too fat and well fed to hunt them down, but he could certainly give them a little scare.

Outside, it was cold and snowy. Perhaps by spring, he would decide to take off when the flowers came out and the sun shone bright. For now, however, he would bide his time. He was, after all, a cat and enjoyed lives aplenty. Unlike these poor mortals, time was one thing he possessed in great abundance.

_________________________

Child of the 7th Age's post for Owl:

"My friends, listen carefully," Owl nestled down on the bare, snowy limb of the old oak tree to speak with the birds and beasts who now crowded together in the courtyard. "Mid-winter is long past, and we have overstayed. No one can quarrel with what we have done here. You have much to be proud of. Still it is time for us to leave the world of Men and return to our homes. For some of you, that will be very close." Here Owl glanced over at Wren who was perched on a fencepost. "But for others, like Bear, the path will be long and hard indeed."

"Wherever you go, to whatever realms your journey takes you, do not forget what happened here today. Tell the tale to the trees of the forest and sing soft lullabyes to your little ones so that the brave deeds here, both by men and beasts, shall never be forgotten. Next January, when the clock strikes midnight on Midwinter's eve, we shall meet again in the courtyard of the Green Man. For so it has been for countless years, and so it shall be for numberless ages stretching out towards the end."

"Say your goodbyes and be off as quickly as you can. I bid you adieu till next year." With those final words, Owl flapped his wings and flew upward, heading straight and true towards the great pine forests of the north. And each of the birds and beasts slipped off, some in groups and others on their own, to return to their homes. And, flying through the ash grey sky, Owl was content to know that all was well: another yearly cycle had begun.

[littlemanpoet]

Toward mid-morning, a strange party of wanderers wended their way toward the Green Man Free House. It would be more appropriate to say that three of them walked, two trotted, and one strode in great big, earth-clutching strides.

Wenda did not speak. Mara was attentive to Wenda's wellbeing. Arato kept his own counsel. Pada and Muna trotted ahead for the most part, but every once in a while they doubled back to nuzzle their noses against the unresponsive palm of her hand. Then they would walk slowly by her side, until a scent or sound caught their awareness, and off they went again.

High above them strode Greenbeard, hooming and humming to himself, mulling and supposing and wondering about the Green Man Free House Mara had told him of. He was the first to see it, and the last to speak of it.

"There's chimney smoke wafting ahead," Arato announced.

"Humm!" mumbled Greenbeard.

"Ah! The Green Man at last!" said Mara. "I'll be glad to get indoors and get you under some nice warm blankets, Wenda. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Wenda nodded stiffly but said nothing.

"Hoom! Hom! You call it the Green Man Free House; an odd name. What do you mean by it, if that does not take too long to tell?"

"I think you should ask old Goody about that," Mara replied.

They came out of the thickness of the trees. There stood the outbuildings and fencing of the Green Man, hiding the cozy inn from view; that is, the view of the humans. The Ent could see the entire roof and much of the grounds over fence and roof.

"Hmmm and haroom! There has been much agoing on here judging by the trodden snow in so many places."

"I judge me that they've a story of their own to tell," Arato said. "I'll go in and tell them we're here."

The others waited outside, the Ent humming tunefully and introspectively all the while.

[Undómë]

‘Well, I never.....’

Goody shook her head slowly, trying to clear her vision. She rubbed at her eyes, too, but no amount of fussing would change what she saw as she stood on the step just outside the public house. There, heading toward The Green Man was the crown of a tree.

‘.....thought to see something like that again!’

Not the small, neatly leafed crown of the lady tree she’d seen in her childhood, stirring the plants to life in her Gran’s garden. Nay, this was one of the tall walkers; the sort she’d only heard tales of and never seen.....no, not for all her own walking in the woods at the foot of the hills.

Still, he hummed as the lady had done that long time ago, though in a deeper voice. Goody smiled as the memory and the reality merged, and she found that she did not fear his approach.

‘Welcome, welcome to The Green Man!’ she called out. There were others with him, and though she recognized them, they were but dim images on the periphery of her vision. So focused was she on the lordly tree.

She hobbled out slowly to where he stood, leaning on the knob of her twisted, yew walking stick as she went along. She found, as she walked, her step grew light. And her aching, bent back began to loosen of itself so that her last few steps she stood tall as her small frame allowed and carried her stick in one hand.

‘So very pleased to see one of your kind again,’ she said as she drew near him. Her words seemed to float before her, thin out.....like so much smoke in the wind.

He did not answer, but looked beyond her, a considering look on his face. She turned, wondering what it was that caught his attention so. There on the ground, a number of steps behind her, lay some crumpled form, still as death upon the snowy ground her stick beside her. Four figures gathered about the old husk, two women and two deer. And now from the Inn came others.....

Goody stepped back a pace, to take in more fully the great figure of the tall walker, the tree lord. His deep eyes had turned from the small commotion before him back to the forest from which he’d come.

‘Well, I guess I’ll see you there some time, then won’t I?’ she said, stepping around him as she headed toward the trees herself. ‘I’ve a mind to see where he walks these days,’ she went on. ‘The Green Man.’

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower drives my green age..... she hummed to herself as her footsteps carried her across the snow to the forest canopy. And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind how time has ticked a heaven round the stars.....

She slipped quietly beneath the dark boughs and in less than a wink, she was gone.....

[littlemanpoet]

Wenda looked at the lifeless form of old Goody, and moaned. "No! I needed to-" she lost the use of words and dropped to her needs by the body, caressing the old leathery face, weeping for many losses. Presently, Mara gently lifted her to her feet and drew her into the warmth of the Green Man Freehouse. Others of the House bore up Goody's body and laid it somewhere appropriate - Wenda didn't know for she was overcome.

Mara cooed over her as gentle as a mourning dove, but presently went seeking others, speaking her worry of Wenda to them, for she feared that the young woman might not be whole enough of soul and spirit to fare as she had before.

For her part, Wenda sat before the fire, staring, huddling into her cloak, her face blank, as if she had nothing to wait for her, nothing to plan for. Maybe she needs time, others said nearby.

A bowl of porridge was placed in her hands and she ate absently, as if it had no taste. When the bowl was empty, she held it loose in her hands, staring into the fire, until someone took it from her. They saw how her face was blank, and shook their heads. Would she remain so all the morning, and into the afternoon? They waited and watched, and left her alone all morning; only Mara came and sat by her and now and then whispered questions to her. She said no word.

[Rose]

One of his brothers stirred in his sleep. A low growl, a yip; then a twitching of limbs as the pursuit began. White Paw nuzzled his brother on the neck, drawing him from his dreams to a lighter sleep. He laid his head back on his crossed paws and flicked his eyes about the room.

He could hear little islands of subdued talk about the room. The Small Folk sat near the fire, eating and drinking, talking low among themselves. They were kin, he could tell, by their scent and by the ways they acted with each other. The one who had sat with the old woman now took her place tending the fire. Sometimes, though, or perhaps it was but a trick of the light, he thought he saw the old one standing near Willem, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. White Paw shook his head and the image dissipated, like so much smoke caught in a fresh breeze. It was often like this, he reminded himself, when someone died, man or animal. From the corner of his eye he would catch them in familiar places until they faded from his sight, either from his own thoughts readjusting themselves to remind him they were well and truly gone. Or perhaps the spirits themselves pulled away from their familiar haunts and went on to some other gathering. It was a puzzle to which he had no sure answer.

Old Carr and the boy, my boy, my pack-mate he corrected himself, moved about the room bringing food and drink to the two-leggeds. Birger had not overlooked him and his brothers and father. There had been a filling mash of warm oats mixed with egg and meat scraps. ‘For our brave defenders!’ the boy had said with some pride as he placed the bowl before them.

White Paw pricked his ears at the sounds he heard from the courtyard. Hooves scuffled and scraped at the frozen ground, followed by the insistent sounds, the low callings of the two deer. There was worry in their voices, a note of abandonment, of loss.

He got up, stretching his stiff limbs, shaking the soreness from his wounds, and trotted to the kitchen and out the door to see what was the matter. No, no danger. they said to him. But we worry. We have not seen our herd member. Her custom has always been to be with us often. Where is she? they insisted. How does she fare?

No, they couldn’t come in, he told them. Be patient, let me see if she will come to you…

The woman sat in a chair, her gaze fixed on the fire. What she saw, he could not tell. Her eyes were dull; there was an air about her as if she had fallen in on herself and was lost. White Paw sat down beside her for a moment. He leaned against her leg, laying his great head lightly on her knee. He whined a little as he did so, to draw her attention if he could.

Your pack is in need of seeing you.

He stood up, nuzzling at her hands; then grabbed her right wrist lightly yet securely in his teeth, pulling softly at her.

You are the lead deer. Four-leg, two-leg, no leg at all. You have a duty. You must see to them.

[littlemanpoet]

Wenda heard a dog whining. She felt its cold wet nose on her hand and wrist. With the sound and touch, a tiny flame sparked against the cold within her. She looked down at the dog. White Paw, he was called. She could not smile, but she liked him. He was a good dog. She wished she could speak to him. That was forever gone now.

White Paw grabbed her wrist lightly in his mouth! He pulled at her, made her get up and follow! She did not fight him, had so little fight left in her. He brought her outside. Pada and Muna were waiting, staring at her. She sent her thought to them. No, that didn't work now. She had lost her deer soul. Tears fell from her eyes, but White Paw did not let go, but drew her to her two deer. Yes. They were her deer. Her herd. Their soft eyes looked at her and reminded her of the warmth of their deer love that she had known before. She could feel it at least in memory. No, not just memory. She knew it to be true, even if there was a wall between her and them that could never be passed through again.

"Oh Pada, Muna, I can't talk to you anymore!" White Paw released her wrist as she hugged their necks. They snuffled her hair, as they were wont to do to show their warmth toward her. She still knew them! They were not leaving her, even though she could not be one of them.

"I guess I am talking to you, just not in reindeer." Pada made a low noise in her throat. "And you can talk to me too! I think I know what you meant!" For the first time since the attack, she felt a smile on her face. She turned to White Paw, who sat on his haunches, his ears perked, watching her, with a big tongue-lolling smile. "Thank you, you wonderful dog! If I had only known!"

* * * * *

Wenda spent a day more at the Green Man Free House, gaining her strength back, preparing Pada and Muna and her sleigh for another trip to the north. There were traps to set, yes, but also herds to say hello to, hills and valleys and great ice-covered lakes to traverse. There was cold, clear sky to greet, wind to listen to singing, and Tuskers to track.

Wenda bid farewell to the hobbits, to Mara and Aresto, to the owner of the House, and the others who were staying there, and last of all to White Paw. She gave him a big hug around the neck and got a face full of wet, warm tongue for her trouble. She laughed.

Pada, Muna, and Wenda slid over the thickening snow, for the sun was hid and the flakes were falling. Just the three of them. Just like old times. Almost.

[piosenniel]

~*~ Finis ~*~