Wight Fright: "Fog on the Barrow-Downs" RPG

[Durelin]

Karl smiled at Jessamy when she took his hand and thanked him. She was a good and nice lass, and he was sorry she had been lead out here by some dim-witted boys. Her hands were so cold -- he wondered if this day might put her in bed for a while with a chill. Poor girl. Her only consolation he thought now would be that her family would be so relieved to get her home that they wouldn't think too much on what she had done wrong.

At her remark about the skunk he nodded thoughtfully, looking up at the sky, staring into nothing. "Yes, this place does tend to play tricks on you at times...and the weather is turning grey which doesn't help..." He shook his head and chuckled. "I wonder now if Duke found a skunk or found one of your friends. Though I doubt it. He was growling like mad at the opening of a barrow -- I doubt any of them would want to venture in there. Spooky, wights or no."

He turned his gaze back down at Jessamy as he held tightly to Duke's lead as the dog strained at it, sniffing constantly. "Sorry about Duke, he's always in a rush whenever I don't want him to be."

The dog started straining harder at his lead and Karl, distracted by trying to keep from practically dragging the poor girl along found the lead slip through his fingers. "Duke!" he yelled, afraid that the dog would just take off into the woods. The dog disappeared behind a mound and let out a few barks.

"Well, unless he's messing with me, he seems to have found something. But those aren't excited barks..."

Karl kept a pace Jessamy could manage and then went around the back of the barrow. There Duke stood over the still form of Edwin, licking at the side of his face. The other side was in the edge of a small pool of water.

"Oh no..." Karl rushed to the boy and picked him up to place him on the ground away from the pool. Perhaps he was the skunk, he thought, feeling guilt rush over him. I should have checked what it was...

"Edwin!" he called to the boy as he looked him over. He seemed untouched, no injury on his head. And he was breathing. But his eyes did not open. "What on earth..."

[Mithalwen]

In Bree-town

On most evenings the brothers would have been happy to install themselves in the Pony for a few hours of drinking ale and catching up the local news but the weather was such tonight that even Seth would have forgone Butterbur’s finest brew and flirting with the comely serving maids to be back at the farm with no need to go out again that day.


Seeing the Woodeaves enter, the landlord had reached for their pewter tankards,which hung like those of other regulars from hooks along the bar shelves. The boys’ mugs were next to their father’s - now dark in colour and worn after nigh on thirty years use- Bryn’s was still shiny since only one full year had passed since he had been allowed this coveted badge of adulthood. Seth grinned momentarily as he remembered how Jessamy had horrified their mother by asking when she would be old enough to have one too. But it was only a moment’s respite from the the anxiety that he could not dispell. "I don't think we have time today - we need to get looking for that silly sister of ours" said Seth.

"So I've heard but I've mulled some ale - you'll need something warm inside you on a night like this" replied the Landlord and Seth let him fill the three tankards with the brew which he took across to the table where Silas was studying the framed map of the Downs which he had taken from the wall.

While he tried to work out how far they might have gone and in which direction and ever practical Bryn was back and forth organising everything they might need , Seth fretted resenting now each moments delay. The warmth and welcome of the inn served now only to remind him that Jessamy was out there somewhere freezing to death if she weren’t scared there first. He looked around the bar - quieter than usual - and muttered about how there was never a ranger around when they might be useful. The wandering folk were subject of a certain amount of mistrust in Bree but they were nevertheless known to possess the tracking skill of bloodhounds.

“Seth, what has got into you? Not an hour ago you were saying that we used to get up to all sorts of mischief and never came to any harm..” Silas pointed out.
“That was when I thought she was just hanging around Bree.. we never did anything so daft as to go off on the Downs on our own ...and well I blame myself”

“How do you work that one out” asked Silas looking up from the map, intrigued and amazed in equal measure.

Well you and Bryn were both so much more patient with her when you were at home and even when Filbert was still there - well they argued like cat and dog but it kept them occupied but now it is just us - Jessie always wants to helpout on the farm but she is too little to do somethings and a lot of other stuff it is quicker to do yourself than show her how ... so mostly I tell her to buzz off and help Mum if she wants to make her self useful..”

“Well she has got to get used to that - she will have to start pulling her weight in the house whether she likes it or not... “ Silas pointed out.

“But that is it ..she doesn’t like it at all - she loves being outside, she never grumbles about helping Mum with the chickens or the bees or the garden but she hates housework and she knows that is pretty much what her future holds. We all got more freedom as we got older and were able to chose work that suited us .. but it is different for girls. Jessie isn’t knows that she will have a couple more years at the Dame school and then she will be kept on a tight rein until she is wed. No wonder she went for an adventure when she had the chance. Maybe if I had let her help me during the holiday she wouldn’t have felt the need.” Seth added mournfully.

“I think you are taking this a bit too personally”said Bryn “ I think she would have gone no matter what - I mean she looks like she was prepared to go - it wasn’t a spur of the moment decision, she had brought a change of clothes and if she did that she probably took food as well. Did she ask to help you today?”

"No she did her chores early and was off - but I just thought she was keen to see her friend ..”

"Well there you go then.. and now I think we are ready. Fil knows what he has to do." The brother's drained their mugs taking up their cloaks left the warmth of the bar, trotted down the steps and back into the courtyard where Silas's ponies waited with a sturdy saddle horse that Bryn had borrowed. All that was needed was to light the lamps on the cart and they were off. Bryn leading the way to the Westgate and on into to the East Road. They had not gone so very far when they began to discern several small figures trailing along the road towards them. In hope they urged the horses faster into the gloom.

On the Downs

Jessamy followed after Karl as swiftly as her tired limbs would allow and her heart filled sucessively with relief when she realised that the dog really had found Edwin and then horror when she saw his seemingly lifeless body.

"Is he ....dead?" she whispered hanging back a little in fear. Karl shook his head "No, he breathes" but it was clear that something was very wrong.
"Exposure?" asked Jessamy, remembering how they sometimes lost lambs on the farm when the weather changed suddenly, and how they looked and how the ewes mourned . Although she was far from warm herself she took off her cloak and tried to put it around Edwin.
There seemed to be no rousing him... what on earth was wrong with him? She bit her lip and trying not to cry she asked Karl "What are we going to do?" She was used to her elders having all the answers but had a feeling that this was out of the ordinary.

[Durelin]

Karl and Jessamy both tried to wake Edwin, but he did not stir. Even Duke gave the boy a little nudge, and sitting back down gave a little whine to show he was not comfortable with the situation. His nose twitched frantically, and he leaned toward Edwin again, sniffing confusedly. It was a boy, but it smelled like a skunk!

"Exposure?" Karl repeated absently. "I...I don't know, might be. He might have caught a chill out here, I suppose. He seemed to be thirsty at least, maybe he just needs some warm food and drink..." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. It was foolish but he felt his skin prickling as every one of his hairs stood on end, and not from the cold.

At Jessamy's question, which she asked in a bit of a choked voice, Karl smiled at her. He couldn't just stand around and fret, he had to take care of these two. Putting his thoughts into easing Jessamy's worry kept him from worrying too much himself.

"It will be alright; he's breathing fine. We'll get him back...it may be slow going but I can carry him."

It was not the most comfortable way to travel, but Karl picked up Edwin's limp body to put him over his shoulder, letting out an "oomph" as he did so. It might be slow going indeed...

"You mind carrying the lantern now Jessamy?" he asked, hoping she would not mind being given something to do, something to focus on...and hopefully just having the light with her would make her feel a little more secure in this place, especially as twilight was fading into night. The days were not long enough this time of year.

"Let's try to cut straight to the road and get back to town to see if everyone else has made it home already. I wouldn't be surprised if there are already some out looking for you kids, especially with it getting dark. Hopefully if there are people searching we'll run into them along the road."

Karl looked around him. He knew what direction the Old Forest was in even if he could not make out any of the trees on its edge. It was strange; it was not so dark yet, but everything already seemed to be a little hazy. He got his bearings and headed in what he determined to be south toward the East Road.

[Mithalwen]

On the road

Bryn would reach the straggled out group first there would be no doubt - he could ride quicker along the grass verge than even an anxious Silas would drive his ponies on an increasingly icy road. But even before their brother reached the returning children, Seth and Silas' hope that Jessamy were among them had dwindled – though the figures were too distant to distinguish face or form clearly but there was nothing familiar in gait or stance that gave them hope that one of the hoods raised against the weather concealed their sister’s distinctive hair.
“She isn’t there is she?” Seth’s words were more statement than question. His brother shook his head.
“I don’t think so, no.”
Now they could see Bryn was among the children and a gesture from him confirmed their suspicions.
“What if we can’t find her Si? I’ll finish mum off”
“It would be worse for Dad” Silas responded grimly with a flash of insight combined with memory,” but we can’t think like that. We have to find her. Come on they have to have told Bryn something that will help.” And before Seth could get him to explain they had reached the others.
It the ensuing dialogue the Woodseaves learnt of the barrow, the skunk and the groups dispersal and that only Edwin and their sister were missing of their number.
The younger boys learnt that it was wise not to make jokes about a girl in the presence of her anxious brothers and that there were limits to even Bryn’s good nature. Offers to help look for the two they had assumed already returned home was rejected and they were instructed to leave word at the Prancing Pony on their way home.

[Mithalwen]

On the Downs

Jessamy had shouldered her knapsack and taken the proffered lamp, Lantern holding was something she could do. In fact it was almost an area of expertise. So often if there was a minor emergency on the farm - a difficult lambing or a injured beast, she had been told "If you want to make yourself useful you can hold the lantern". In the byre or barn the lamp would create a comforting pool of light but here its glimmer seemed merely to show how vast and gloomy the Downs were. Even Duke seemed to have lost his exuberance and stayed close by; Jessamy found his presence as comforting as the light.

She really wanted to believe Karl but it was hard. She was accustomed to seeing death - you couldn't be raised a farmer's child and not be - but this was different. She had known old folk who had died at the fullness of their years and of babes that had been born to soon and failed to thrive. However usually the Breelanders were a healthy enough lot and if you survived your first year or two you were considered good for sixty or seventy more, barring accident. She had never known a young person sicken and die and she didn't want to. Edwin's stillness unnerved her and she could not believe all would be well. Nor did she believe that they would be met by a search party on the road. Not for her anyway. Noone knew she was here but there was no point in telling Karl that. He probably hoped that there would be someone to help him with his burden. But she had lied and her family thought her safe at the Boffins' . So it would be a long and dismal walk home and at journeys end what then. Even if by some lucky chance Edwin revived that wouldn't be the end of her troubles. Would her parents be furious or perhaps worse saddened by her deceit? She scarce had the energy to wonder anymore. At least it was easier to match Karl's pace now he was carrying Edwin but she had to concentrate to keep her cold, weary feet from stumbling.

[Envinyatar]

Willem was a wanderer. That’s just how he thought of himself. Wherever the wind blew him, that’s where he fared. There were no kin as he’d lay claim to; no piece of earth in which he’d sunk roots, deep or shallow. ‘Just Willem,’ he’d say, if you asked his name. ‘Got no people waitin’ back nor forward for me.’ ‘Just Willem,’ he’d say with a twitch of his thin shoulders, as if to shrug off any further inquiries.

And now this particular cold wind had urged him up the Greenway toward Bree-land. With a short side trip along the edge of the Barrow-downs where it nudged up against The Old Forest – to the Withywindle. There were stones hidden in those dark old waters, stones in whose depths lay shimmers of dark blues and deep greens waiting to be teased out with careful polishing.

He was one of those jacks-of-all-trades. He could sharpen knives, shears, pitchforks, shovels; mend pots and pans; repair shoes and boots, mend bridles. All of which services he traded for food and other needed supplies. His heart, though, was in the fine metal-working he liked to do. Silver, mostly, engraved with intricate designs and often set with little, pretty stones. Necklaces, bracelets, clasps for the hair, buckles for belts…..

It had been a good two days he spent along the banks of the old river. He’d replenished his store of rough pebbles and larger stones, talking all the while to the lazy waters to keep the ripples and eddies distracted from his ‘borrowings’. When he’d taken all that he gauged river would tolerate, Willem packed up his little caravan and hitched his horse to it, continuing his way northward.

Darkness was falling fast and the snow which had begun earlier as a light dusting, now fell with more heavily. Willem had lit the little lantern that hung from the van’s eaves nearest his seat at the front. More for a bit of cheer for himself in the bleak evening than for any real light to shed on his way. Catkin picked her way slowly along beneath the trees, snorting and huffing every so often as if to comment on the trip in general.

‘There, now, lady,’ Willem murmured softly to Catkin’s chuffed commentary. ‘We’ll stop soon enough when we get to an open place.’

A break in the clouds let some late evening’s light settle almost to the forest floor. Willem pulled his heavy woolen cloak more closely about him as he peered at the passing trees. ‘Hmmmm….. Looks like one of the Old Men has been moving his flock about a bit…..don’t you think, my dove?’ Catkin twitched her ears at this question, but made no answer.

Willem's little ginger haired dog, Jumble, tucked himself more snugly inside the warm blue cloak and leaned heavily against his human's side. As long as he was warm and comfortable, Jumble had no care concerning where the trees and bushes chose to roost. He could lift his leg in one spot as well as another.

The wheels of the little caravan crunched noisily over the fallen needles, branches, old leaves. ‘I’ll trust you to find our way,’ he called out as he flicked the reins lightly against the horse’s flanks. Catkin, for her part, shook her mane and snorted a final comment as she picked up the pace just barely.

[Mithalwen]

At Woodseaves Farm

Erling Woodseaves woke and yawned. The house was quiet, only the sound of the fire in the range and the faint murmuring of the women in the parlour next door. He half grinned to himself as he remembered none of his brood was in - there was seldom silence where his youngest child was. He smiled at the thought of her, the long awaited daughter had been expected to be her mother's pet lamb but she had turned out to be his, determined to help around the farm even when she was scarce bigger than the buckets she was trying to carry. And then she was the one who really resembled him, at least in looks. She was a living reminder of the kin he had lost in the Fell Winter, and enough time had passed for that to be a joyful remembrance. He attributed the child’s stubbornness, however, entirely to her mother.

A cold draught caught him and rising from his chair with a stretch and a sigh, feeling his years catch up with him as stiffened joints protested at fresh use after so long a day. He crossed to the window and pulled the shutter ajar. It was snowing - the hedges and outbuildings already had alight coating and it had even begun to settle in the yard. It was too early in the year for this he thought. He looked for a glimmer of waggon lamps guiding his children safely home and hoped they would not be long. Erling was no less happy than Sukebind to have them under their roof - no matter how noisy they were. He found a bit of rag to stop the draught and closed the shutter; he’d make a proper repair in the morning.

Erling went through to the parlour where he was informed his announcement that it was snowing wasn’t news to those of them who hadn’t been asleep for the past hour. But he continued beginning to fret though he knew it wasn’t really so late yet.

“They should be back… not a night to be out unless you have to … you and Silas better stay here tonight Fern…. Jessie will be frozen – did she even take a cloak this morning? “

“She won’t be frozen at the Boffin’s - that smial of theirs is cozier than any house ..”
Erling noticed Fern flinch - “What ails you lass? The child…?”

“No, I’m fine..” Fern could keep her secret no longer .. “It is Jessamy..she's not at the Boffins'” .
Within five minutes Erling was on his way into Bree-town.

On the Downs

Jessamy was frozen. She had given her cloak to cover Edwin - not that it was doing him much good and though the old sweater she wore had felted when it shrank in the wash, it wasn't enough to keep the out the snow's damp. She could scarcely feel her feet or fingers and there was a dull ache behind her forehead - the only part of her that had any heat in it.

Jessamy stumbled on, still beside Karl. The mounds and menhirs seemed even more sinister under their snowcovering and she was beginning to think they had passed them more than once. The fading light and fast falling snow were so swiftly obscuring their tracks. It was so hard to keep one's head here..even if it weren't swimming. It also seemed to be getting a bit foggy.

Neither she nor Karl had the inclination to talk. It would waste energy and since their predicament, specially Edwin's were the only likely subjects it wasn't going to be cheering. All she could hear was her own footsteps, Karl's heavier tread and the softer, quicker sound of Duke's paws dipping into the snow. But after a while she fancied she heard something else. Distant but definitely there. A rhythmic thud accompanied by random creaks and rattles. She was beyond reminding herself that twice today she had been scared by sounds that had turned out to be nothing more sinister than a skunk and a dog.

All she could remember was Seth's bedtime story, still vivid three years after it was first told with its clanking chains and pale swords and evil spirits, thralls of an undead king, who would come to find her if she weren't good and would trap her in his barrow. And she hadn't been good. Now she could hear what her mind, all reason fled, told her was a barrow wight plodding relentlessly towards her, rattling his sword and dragging chains to bind her. She had turned to face the sounds and now backing away from them, she bumped against a standing stone. Its touch might as well have been a wraith's embrace for the effect it had on her. Terrified out of her wits and with no strength and nowhere to run she screamed as if her soul were being torn from her body, and struggled to get away from the monstrous stone. For the third time that day she fell. But this time there was pain. And darkness.