Feast at the Beorning Market

Dwarves and elves feast while a lone beijabar warily keeps the peace
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Beorning village
Game Date: July 19 3046
IC Time: Midday
Weather: Hot
Open Market(#11232Raht)
     This large spacious place, near the center of the Beorning Village, is the open market where many of the vendors hock their wares. There is a large peaked wooden canopy over the center portion of the market to protect the wares being sold and make the buying experience more pleasant. There are also many permanent stalls built in the center of the canopied area. There are dividing walls between each stall high enough between each stall to try to prevent thieves.
     Many of the stalls are occupied with several vendors selling their wares. A wide variety of items are sold here. Some might see honey vendors, bakers, fishermen, weavers, and general traders working a particular stall. On fair days, there are pavilions or just tables set up outside the canopy from the overflow of people trying to make a living.

Real time is: Sun Mar 29 18:14:46 2009 - Weather in the Beorning realm is: RAINING
Elendor time is: Midday <13:44:18 > on Mersday of Summer - July 19, 3046

[Frarin(#31050)] The midday summer air is hot and muggy, and in the sky above the sun is dampered by a thin haze of off-white clouds, adding to the humid heaviness all around. But for all the sticky feeling that the weather may create, the open market of the Beorning village is bustling even more than usual.

The stalls and vendors create a clamour as they call out their wares of honey or bread or fish or what have you. And today they have many buyers, for a hodgepodge array of chairs and tables have been set up at the centre of the market, where are sat and standing all manner of people, from men of the village to the men of Dale to the dwarves of Erebor. Food and mead flow freely.
Standing amidst a group of dwarves near one of the stalls is Frarin, a dwarf garbed in a long blue surcoat, though the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up against the humidity and he holds a mug of mead to beat away the heat.

The Beornings are here, in their finest homespun, hawking their wares or standing a bit apart from the guests a bit, eyeing them warily over mugs of mead. One large brown-haired man, though, makes his way to the dwarves, even bowing formally as he approaches. He might be recognized as Mobeorn, who has traveled with the dwarves back from Dale.

"Welcome to our lands, though it's late greeting."

"It might be late for some, but not for others!" Comes a voice, clearly cutting over the noise of the market. Its melodical tones marking the speaker, "My friend from Celebannon, you have introduced me in the past, send out word to your folk that there is a feast coming, if the Dwarf-folk have not brought the news!"

[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin looks away from the group with which he converses when Mobeorn's unmistakable voice catches his attention and he returns the man's formal bow before giving a brief smile. "Aye, I thank you. I imagine you are quite pleased to be returned home at last?" Before the dwarf can say more, however, there is another voice, this one equally unmistakable. Frarin says nothing at first, glancing to Mobeorn for the man's reply.

"Excuse me?" Mobeorn blinks as the elves seemingly appear suddenly, as they are wont to do, at least according to the whisperings that the Beorning villagers are now sharing among themselves. The shapeshifter grins, though, even giving a bow now to the elven king. "Introduce you? I think there is no need to do so, sir, but...everyone...the king of the elves!"

Perhaps the shapeshifter has had too much to drink.

[Devora(#21935)] Looking around with veiled curiosity, Devora nods to her King. She has been here many times but the village never fails to amuse her. The humans are known by her to be brave, even reckless. They are fearless in battle, and have proven to be elf friends. But the dwarfs....She sighs.

There are not many situations that Tathrenel has not been in, and she glides into this one without expression. She holds a squarish basket in her hands, lidded snugly, and she looks past her King at the dwarves--and only at the dwarves. Her gaze never wavers.

The Elf King returns the bow, though not as deeply, "We have come bearing the bounty of the wood, to share with you and your guests. I pray that the message I left with one of their folk has travelled here and that there is a Dwarf amongst this gathering that can speak for his people."

[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin bows to the Elf King only after Mobeorn properly introduces him and soon after the dwarf's eyes drift to the various other elves that accompany Thranduil, not the least the one who seems intent on staring quite disconcertingly at all the dwarves. After a moment, the silversmith clears his throat and nods again to Thranduil. "If you wish to speak with Lord Gimli again, my lord Thranduil, he can be called for."

"Indeed, so it is the son of Gloin that I am to treat with?" The King responds, letting out a chuckle. "In that case, send for him, but I think it unwise to delay the meal for I have often awaited his arrival."

The King turns to nod to Tathrenel, as well as a handful of other elves that follow her, bearing similar baskets.

"Mead!" Mobeorn calls with a half growl as the shapehsifter takes note of the way the elves are looking or not looking at the dwarves. "Mead and soon...and what is this about treating? We will gladly share your bounty and you are guests in our land so..." he stares at Frarin, "I am trusting that the mead will smooth things out...not make it worse."

So it is that Tathrenel lets her gaze rest at last on Frarin. He has put himself forward, after all. Her dark green eyes seem to be searching out his soul, but there is still no expression, no judgment to render, that can be read on her face.
But when the King nods, she hearkens. She blinks her eyes and smiles faintly, leading the way forward with the covered baskets to their hosts, man and dwarf alike. "Cakes of sweet maple, the syrup drawn from the oldest trees in what was once Greenwood the Great," she says in a bell-like tone. "Rare nuts, and berry tarts, and the finest fishes that ever leapt in a stream. These we bring in friendship." And she extends the basket she holds.

[Devora(#21935)] Devora tenses at Gimili's name. Many have been the encounters of the two, none of them pleasant. Her green eyes look to the king, as her long golden tresses sway slightly. Surely , his majesty can not wish to deal with the dwarf. She starts at Tathrenel's words, then moves forward with her, carrying her basket in her delicate hands.

[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin bows again to the Elf King, this time lips pressing together in a slightly sarcastic manner. But he turns and mutters something to one of the dwarves with whom he has previously been speaking and this second dwarf soon departs the gathering, apparently in search of Lord Gimli. Frarin looks back to the elves and looks shortly about to speak, but stalls for a moment at that piercing gaze from Tathrenel, a look half of wariness, half of wryness crossing his face.

But quickly the dwarf looks up at the towering Mobeorn, shrugging lightly. "You know no more than I, Master Mobeorn. It has not been my business to treat often with elves. Perhaps though the king shall tell us in his own time," he says, glancing back to Thranduil with raised brows. "But the dwarves shall broach no ill-considered actions while we are guests, nor indeed ever, if it can be helped." He nods in acknowledgement as the elves bring forth baskets of goods.

The King offers a shake of his head, "Then let us await his arrival before speaking of it," Thranduil responds to the Dwarf, turning to Mobeorn, he adds, "I pray that we remain welcome guests for I do not doubt that it will be some time may depart."

"But let us break open the baskets, surely the Naugrim will not turn away such a meal?" he asks, his attention again returning to the Dwarf, "Especially since it is given in honour of their safe passage along the forest road!"

[Devora(#21935)]  Opening her basket of fresh fried fish wrapped in fragrant leaves, Devora leans in to place the dish in the center of the group. She remains slightly tense, though only those close to her would notice by the set of her shoulders. She sends a small smile towards the King and Tathrenel before addressing Mobeorn. "The Spring harvest has been bountiful," she says in her clear voice.

Tathrenel, her gaze returned to Frarin, removes the lid from her basket and offers it. Inside are the cakes she mentioned, the scent of maple heady and rich to give the truth to her words. "Share of our bounty," she invites him.

[Frarin(#31050)] "Is it indeed?" Frarin replies with raised brows, mild amusement written across his face. "Surely that is something to celebrate, aye, either for the luck of such a passage or for whatever safety your own people may have provided us in our journey along the road. Our last passage through Mirkwood was not so fortunate, this is true." He gives a gruff smile at the elves that bear the baskets. Some of the other dwarves give murmurs of thanks, though more than a few turn to grumbling and what are likely to be less than pleasant mutters to their fellows.

Frarin at least seems to make an effort to remain polite, though his expression seems naturally lined and frowning. "Ah," he coughs, when the staring elf offers him a taste of the cakes she carries. He gives her a renewed stare of his own, then coughs again and lifts one of the cakes from Tathrenel's basket with a gruff nod. "My thanks, my lady."

[Frarin(#31050)] The dwarf that had departed sometime before returns to the gathering of men, elves and dwarves and offers a bow to the Elf King in particular. With a wary scepticism to his voice, he says, "Apologies, Your Highness, but I have been unable to find our Lord Gimli. I believe he departed with a patrol some time ago, to the south of the village."

With her fellows, Tathrenel moves among the gathered dwarves and men, offering each something from her basket. When at last it is empty, she surrenders it to another of the elven party and rejoins her King. "Will you take anything, my lord?" she asks him quietly.

[Devora(#21935)] Devora's lips turn up at hearing that Gimli will not be present. Feeling that a weight has been lifted, Devora approaches all and offers them the fish. She even manages a grudging smile for Frarin. Then she joins her kin near the kin, and awaits his words.

The King smiles, "There is time yet for all to share, I think," he responds, "I will wait for the honey-mead of the Beornings to arrive, I think. We shall stay, for a short time perhaps even join in their efforts to patrol their lands, for there are dark things in the mountains that overshadow us here, even as there are in the forest."

While the fishes are taken away to be prepared, Tathrenel nods. "Yes, my lord," she says with a faint smile, the first time her expression has changed from solemn contemplation all this while.

[Devora(#21935)] Nodding silently, Devora thinks upon her travels. Much in the world has gone wrong, evil seeming to give rise to evil. Her skills as a healer will be sorely needed before long.

[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin tests his cake in silence, and when he seems to approve of it, he takes another, less tentative bite as he listens to Thranduil. He does, however, turn to nod to Mobeorn. "Indeed, Master Mobeorn, if our caravan can be of any use while you are good enough to host us, then pray accept our offer of aid. Your own lands have been oft troubled, as much as the forest."

The silversmith glances up at the arrival of the messenger dwarf, then Frarin looks to the Elf King. "I am sorry that Lord Gimli could not join us, my lord. I realize that you and he are not on the best of terms, but we shall be here in the village for some time to come. Perhaps you may delay your meeting until he returns?"

Tathrenel listens closely to everything, then her smile turns a touch wry. " You did say that, did you not, my king?" she asks the King, flashing her eyes to her fellow Eldar in amusement.

A shorter dwarf covered in minute white scars is pushing through the crowd toward the King of the elves. Thari is muttering quietly (about how useless elves are, but surely no one has sharp enough hearing to hear that) and is glowering.

[Devora(#21935)]  Devora looks to the approaching dwarf. "While Gimli will not show his face, his servant is out. "

The King laughs, " Indeed," he offers in a word to his nearby companion,
Returning his gaze to the Dwarf, he responds in Westron, 'I shall await him, however long it takes, this time.'

[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin's brow furrows as he catches Devora's words and he glances round until he sees Thari's glowering approach. But though he acknowledges the shorter dwarf with a brief nod, Frarin looks back and fixes Devora with a wry look. "As it is not Lord Gimli's fault that you arrive when he has recently departed, my lady, so neither is it respectful of a guest to the Beornings to belittle another guest. Thari is no more a servant of Lord Gimli than I."

"Wait, what?" Thari's deep voice sounds already irritated. Head tipped back to look at Devora, the healer stops somewhere near Frarin. "What did they say about Lord Gimli?"

[Devora(#21935)] Devora stares at Frarin with expressionless eyes." Thari and I have known each other many years, and have had a very telling history. But tonight we fight for the same cause.So my apology is given if insult was taken."

Tathrenel looks about to speak to Thranduil, but then Devora's talks instead and she turns her head. " Enough, friend," she says in her soft voice, shaking her head. " Do not speak cruelly Lord Gimli is abroad on patrol, and not even I could condemn him for it."

[Devora(#21935)]  I will never forget Thingol and Dior," devora spits out.

[Thranduil(#5440)]  "My messenger arrives!" The King exclaims, offering a slight bow to Thari, "I am pleased to see that you did not fall behind again, until the safety of this open land was reached."

He straightens, gesturing a few more of his folk forward, smiling as he turns to Devora, "A chaste tongue, for now," he says, "Let us remember that we are in the lands of Beorn's scions."

[Frarin(#31050)] "The king wishes to meet with--" Frarin starts in explanation to Thari, but pauses when Devora spits out words that, though they be in Westron, seem to confuse the silversmith nonetheless, for his brow wrinkles. "To meet with Lord Gimli," Frarin continues, speaking to Thari but eyes fixed somewhat suspiciously on Devora. "But he is gone recently on a patrol to the south."

Thari's eyes narrow further and glare up at Devora. "I'd think you always try to come when Lord Gimli is gone. Why is that?" the dwarf asks, all loathing in tone. Only briefly do the grey eyes flick to Thranduil-- back they go again to Devora. "Yes, bind your tongue."
"Mead..." Mobeorn grumbles again, this time as a barrel of the honey wine is rolled up to the table. The barrel is tapped and he hands out a mug--oversized, to Thranduil first. "Compliments of the Laird Grimbeorn, who cannot make it, either. He is on...patrol, you would say."

[Thranduil(#5440)]  "Instead of binding, let us all sweeten our tongues," The King says, turning again to Tathrenel, "Surely, your basket has not run empty, has it?" he asks, even as a few others of the kin that he has brought hurry forward at his previous beckoning.

[Frarin(#31050)] "Thari," Frarin says gruffly under his breath, glancing sidelong at the healer. "Mind your own, as well, we are meant to be amidst allies."

[Devora(#21935)]  Devora remains expressionless, facing the King, and bowing. "Your wishes are my command, my Lord." To Tathrenal she says, "I have studied my history long and well" Finally she turns and bends at the waist slightly slightly to Frarin and Thari, an insult as well as an acknowledgement. "The absence of Gimli has always been a pleasure of mine. '

" I -knew- Thingol and Dior," Tathrenel says to Devora, her voice even. " I was at the Fall of Doriath. If I can speak civilly to the Naugrim, then you can as well. Do not shame our King." Always she speaks kindly, and when she turns to Thranduil, she is smiling. 'I have given it to another, but it is not yet empty, my lord,' she says, gesturing to the elf she gave her basket to in a trice it is in her hands and she is offering it to Mobeorn.

Thari half-turns on a heel and now Frarin is given the heated glare with lips pressed. There is a little quiver of rage as Devora speaks.

[Thranduil(#5440)]  "And indeed, the drink has arrived!" The King announces, "For barrels of wine are heavy, and difficult to bring, through the secret paths in the wood."

"Enough of this talk, though, let us drink, and share of the maple-cakes, and fruits, and other sweet breads that we have brought."

[Frarin(#31050)] "My lady elf!" Frarin says gruffly to Devora, in the sort of politely reproving tone of one attempting to remain civil and diplomatic. "Pray, give no more insult to the dwarves and you shall receive none in return, though my fellows mutter already." And indeed, many of the other assembled dwarves have begun furious muttering at the verbal abuse of Gimli. Frarin though gestures towards the tables. "For the sake of our -hosts- at least," he says, returning Thari's pointed stare, "let us be civil to each other for once." He with a snort and a gruff sigh, he starts in the direction of the tables himself, shaking his head.

[Devora(#21935)]  Devora moves to her king"s side, and lifts up a wineskin. "We all face a comman enemy, and shall be companions for many days. I will do my King's bidding.

"I will see that the bounty is laid," Tathrenel says to no one in particular, turning to fade into the midst of her kin.

The King also inclines his head, "No insults will be given, it can be certain," the King says, bowing towards Mobeorn, before he too, drifts off into the assemblage.

"To any who wish to scour the mountains and woods with us...we would be more than welcome to have ...volunteers." Mobeorn grins toothily as he hands out mugs of mead.

Players: Frarin,Mobeorn,Thranduil,Thari,Tathrenel,Devora,
Located in: Beorning | Ndaedeldhrim | Erebor