(Archive) Rorgan and the Wolf's Fleece Part IX

October 15, 1999

*Note - log submitted by Rorgan*

[Deorwine(#19482)] Well lit though the tent may be, the main flap being drawn aside lets a bright spray of sunlight angle along the floor and catch a few unfortunate of the infirm across their eyes. The owner of the hand that draws the flap seems unaware of this however as he steps into the tent and slowly draws the flap back to hang as normally it does at rest. A light jingle of mail accompanies the tall, fair haired man's entrance, and as the armor settles, hands clasp behind him and bright eyes sweep over those occupying the cots once ere Deorwine's head bends in a nod of greeting to the healers and or any other who might note him. A moment he lingers just inside the tent and then moves forward out of the way of the entrance, boots crunching and mail now and again giving a clink as he moves towards the center of the tent, as yet speaking not and in nowise making his intent known..

A tall man, though that would be hard to tell, with the way he is propped up with pillows and his legs covered with a light blanket, reads a book that was once covered with tan leather, but now the leather has grown mostly brown from age. It is the Guildmaster of Tailors from Minas Tirith, wounded now three weeks ago in fighting with the Wargs, but of this man many things are said of late.

Those who are familiar with the court of Theoden King, who are old enough, will remember that Rorgan was once an ambassador to that king from the Steward Denethor. That now being a bit more than ten years gone by, still others remark that it was this man's hand that slew the great black beast with the silver collar -- a, if not the, leader of the Wargs. Some other rumors have also drifted through the camp that Rorgan assaulted two men of the Minas Tirith Silver Guard, nearly killing them, but few know this matter has been thoroughly cleared up.

Indeed, the man who sits upon his sickbed reading is well known, perhaps even to those he has never met, or those he has met long ago and has forgotten. None of this, however, reflects in the man's attention to his study as he absently sips the bitter pain-tea that has become one of the main staples of his diet since the grevious wound to his leg was received.

Deorwine pauses to study the man with book in hand, brows pinching togethor slightly as he studies Rorgan's face. Presently though, he shrugs as if dismissing whatever it was he may have been thinking and continues towards the center of the tent, halting and waiting.

...and waiting...

Finally the knight clears his throat to gain the attention of one of the healers, lips pursed in what could well be annoyance, deep voice addressing the one that finally turns from their task, "Your pardon, I mean not to intrude upon your duties, yet I wish to speak with one or some among these injured who were most in contact with the war-, the beasts, yet who will not be too terribly troubled in speaking of it.."

The healess raises a brow, "Take your pick, m'lord. They've all..." Then her eyes narrow as the depth of the question sinks in, "Perhaps that one." She points to the man reading the book, "He's been fairly calm since he was brought in, I'd say." She shrugs.

The man she points to, Rorgan, continues to read. Turning a page and taking another sip of tea. He has barely spared a glance for the entering knight, so engrossed it would seem he is in his study.

Deorwine nods tersly and glances at the book reader again, nods once more - though more to himself than the healess - and turns, wending among the cots to stand at the foot of the one on which Rorgan rests. Perhaps wishing to give this one no chance to ignore him, or for other less deliberate reasons, Deorwine soon speaks, as heedless of Rorgan's book as Rorgan is of others while reading it, "Good day to you sir, I wonder if I might have a word with you."

The book lowers, and Rorgan's eyes of blue study the man briefly, yet closely. "Good day, sir." He offers a polite smile, "Take a seat."

The man then carefully places the book face down upon the top of his right leg, which he moves slightly to separate it from the left. His large feet are like twin tents in the light blanket at that end of his cot, yet the left does not move, even when he shifts his weight to reposition for the book's relocation.

Deorwine remains standing, with no explanation or in fact any recognition of the offer but does nod slightly, "You obviously have had contact with these wargs. I unfortunately was not present and require information ere I am part of any expedition to root them out. I have fought wolves and wargs before, but in great numbers I would know their strategies."

With a nod, Rorgan has forgotten the book, "They are pack beasts, as I am sure you well know..." He pauses, "And what seemed to work well enough for us was a calvary charge. They lack the armour and reach of a good footman, and so all but the most agile fell before us quickly. The larger ones, however, are a far different story... Mostly it takes sheer numbers to bring the strongest down, and you pay dearly for it in limb as well as life." He jerks his head toward his own leg.

Deorwine hmms thoughtfully and rubs at his chin, "Well then, they sound little different than orcs in the order of attack. However, we shant be able to ply horse in the hills, the men of Gondor more used to combat on foot will have to anchor any such. I trust that should not be a problem, though I've heard a rumor. I often give little heed to rumors however.."

Colinor enters the tent from outside, frace touched with perspiration and dust from, ostensibly, riding along with his men in search of the cursed warg lair.

"I think that there may be some better tactics which could be employed by footmen, should it come to that in the lair." Rorgan remarks, "Perhaps a shield wall and spears would prove more formidable to the beasts, perhaps even as much so as the mounted men did."

Rorgan shrugs, "I have heard rumors as well. And though I know well enough that unkind words were probably spoken, I am also certain that they were spoken hastily and without forethought or malice." He looks up now, spotting the Lord Bragollach's entrance.

Indilzar turns in the tent and walks through to look upon the sick and wounded.

Deorwine gives a short noise not unlike a snort and unclasp the hands from his back to wave one dismissively, "Oh, well, if twas simply that, short of slander against my King, tis like nothing, my people are a temperamental lot." he shrugs slightly, pauldrons rising and falling, "Though, so are the men of Gondor. In any event, tis of little important, the necesity is to do away with these wargs and I cannot imagine there would be important enough an affront that our people would allow the wargs respite in order to bicker." he glances at Indilzar and Colinor as they enter, then back to Rorgan, "A shield wall...I do not know, if the beasts are heavy enough, they might bowl over such. Mayhap a bit of experimentation will be necesitated..nonetheless they will be destroyed, at what cost is the only concern.."

[Colinor(#29577)] A young rider trails Colinor, wrapping up the haft of his spear in a faded, gauzelike cloth. He asks something, in murmured Rohirric, to Colinor, who nods and murmurs back, pointing to the tent flap, which sends the young man heading out, enthusiasm in his step. Colinor, for his part, runs his eyes across those assembled, and the mood which touches his emerald gaze as it falls upon Lord Bragollach is....dark, to put it mildly. It lingers but a moment, before he looks to Rorgan, and says nothing. Merely standing there for the nonce, he takes to adjusting the straps on his armor. Only then does Deorwine's words reach his ears, and the young heir-apparent to Hrugarth nods, reaching some sort of internal decision and heading over him. "My friend.." he intones, his words menat for Deorwine's ears as he comes to a halt.

The tailor gives the man a nod, "The cost in any event will not be bourne out until the children of Rohan born in this year live their lives without fear of attack in the night from this nest of beasts." Rorgan smiles thinly to Deorwine, and then gives a nod to the approaching Colinor, the smile that his face had threatened to give over to fading ever so slightly when he realizes the words were not meant for him.

[Colinor(#29577)] "M'lord Rorgan," Colinor says, turning his attention to the tailor and, quite pointedly, ignoring the existence of any other Gondorians who happen to be in the tent. The normally friendly, effervescent man, who rarely misses the opportunity to greet the friends he has made in recent months, has been more morose than his usual self lately...but this is different. He is more focussed, more intense, and more standoffish. "We've completed another sweep of the land just north of here, and found nothing. I'll be leaving again to angle the search a bit to the east."

It is clear --to some, perhaps-- that he values this man's advice on such things. A measure of a man is often his choice of who he learns from. It has been no secret that he has spent the past weeks pickign the brain of Rorgan often, and about a variety of subjects.

[Deorwine(#19482)] At the words coming from a new quarter, Deorwine's head turns slightly and nods, "Well met.." though says nothing more as Colinor continues, speaking to Rorgan now, one brow lifting slightly as he watches..

"My guess would be further to the North," says Rorgan. "Among the foothills. Perhaps they have found a cave up there somewhere that they are using to shelter from our searches." He reaches down for the book upon his lap now and opens it to the last page, taking out a scrap of parchment.

"This was given to me by the scout who came to us in Forensvale claiming to know where the lair was. It has gotten us this close, and though I distrust this man with all my being, I think we may well have eliminated all the other possibilities." He proffers the paper to Colinor, "Be wary of a trap. I have had evil premonitions about the lair even before we arrived upon the plain, friend." Then he clears his throat, "It would be best to put aside whatever differences exist until such a time as the lair has been destroyed. There will be time enough to satisfy the honor of all involved once we are safely back upon Theoden King's soil."

Colinor takes the proferred scrap of paper, working it open to stare upon that which is scrawled there. "Indeed," he intones evenly, memorizing that which he reads, calculating...something, as his eyes find a place upon the far wall, locking there. "You have no need to worry about our dedication to this hunt. We heathens shall fight and die beside your countrymen, my friend, as we have all throughout this trying time." If there is sarcasm to hsi words, he is a master at playing the straight man, for he keeps it miles away from his tone.

[Aearwen(#7229)] Raising the tent flap and striding into the healer's tent is Lady Aearwen, envoy of the Prince of Dol Amroth. The high color of her normally pale face indication the agitation of this woman as she glances over the people milling around the room. Walking over to the men gathered at Rorgan's bedside, she nods her head briefly to each of them. Her blue eyes level as she greets Rorgan and Indilzar, a smile curves her lips as she turns to Deorwine and Colinor, "Greetings, my Rohirrim friends.', pausing after that, she holds Colinor's gaze as he speaks of finding the lair.

Deorwine clears his throat, eyes resting on Colinor in study, "I wonder, perhaps I might find such of interest. I have yet to find who lends cohesiveness to this endeavor, we have maps and papers turning up hither and thither and men glaring at men. Most tiresome all of it, when shall we slay these beasts and be done with it?" breifly only does he note the lady with a glance and a quick inclination of his head

Colinor purses his lips, hsi eyes finding, again, Rorgan, as he nods in response to Deorwine's words. "M'lord Rorgan, I take the riders now --those that hail from Forensvale--and we shall mount up and stand at the ready. Will our GOndorian brethren do likewise? As you have said...let us slay this fell evil first. The time for apologies..." his voice emphasizes that word ever so slightly..."Can indeed come afterwards. I would call it an honor to ride with the Silver guard and Riders of the Mark. The skills of your countrymen are not in any doubt, to be certain."

A wave of his hand. "Of course, of course," Rorgan smiles. "Pass it all 'round. Then everyone will know of Rorgan's Folly. Either for withholding the map or for giving it away, only time will tell."

"The men of the Silver Guard will go with you, and the men of Prince Faramir make up their own minds in these things. Take whatever other men Lieutenant Galdorim can spare, but ask him as a friend and ally, do not demand it or he will most assuredly refuse." Rorgan instructs. "The Gondorians are as weary of this place as any, and at least twice as far from home as you, so I would hope that cooperation and forgiveness shall prevail upon all sides, except where the Wargs and other creatures of the Nameless One are found."

[Aearwen(#7229)] Breathing a sigh of relief at Colinor's words, Aearwen's blue eyes soften and convey a message of gratitude as they look his way. Standing there quietly for a moment she listens to the plans to mount up and attack the wargs in their lair, turning quickly she exits the tent, skirts flying in her haste.

Deorwine's lifted brow remains so and he steps back, arms folded, his whole stance a shrug though the actual act of it he refrains from, nor does he speak again. In fact, he turns and steps around Colinor as if to leave

Minnar slips in looking curious. He spends a few moments moving amoung the wounded Riders, greeting them before coming to a halt a few feet away from Colinor. He nods respectfuly to the other Rider murmering "Good Evening, sir"

Tivadar follows in behind Minnar but dosn't speak a word to anyone offering slight smiles to the wounded he stops on an empty cot in the corner and waits to hear some information on tonights hunt.

Colinor has sketched a respectful bow to Rorgan, before turning away from the man and preparing to stride from the tent. His leg is apparently healed now, at least mostly, and he walks with but the hint of a limp. He stops, though, eyes finding Aearwen, stopping to tilt his head to the side. "Yes, m'lday?"

Colinor has sketched a respectful bow to Rorgan, before turning away from the man and preparing to stride from the tent. His leg is apparently healed now, at least mostly, and he walks with but the hint of a limp. He stops, though, eyes finding Minnar, and he starts off again. "Let's get going, my friend. There are dogs to kill."

Perhaps not the most impressive line in the universe...but it's something.

As the other men begin to leave the healing tent, Rorgan calls out, "Lord Bragollach. A word."

Indilzar turns from his respite and approaches Rorgan, "Yes Rorgan?"

Deorwine pauses shy of the exit, letting Colinar and Tivadar pass as Rorgan speaks and turns, stepping to the side and watching this Bragollach..

"Several words, actually, friend." Rorgan offers the man a smile, "I trust you heard what I have said to our allies." He doesn't wait for a reply before he continues, ""Even though I am not possessed of the station to chastise you, Indilzar, these words are spoken as the advise of a friend. And I don't care what was said. My sister-to-be has taken great offense at something that was uttered from your mouth, and I am now caught in the middle. I hope you will reflect on my dilemma," Rorgan says fingering the pouch about his neck where he keeps a certain ring, "and I hope you would find a princely solution to it, even in the absence of your Prince."

Indilzar looks nonplussed, "And what might these words be that holds you in such dismay?"

Lowering his voice to a near-whisper, Rorgan becomes more frank, "The words which were overheard by Lady Kerowyn's apprentice sounded like the words of a good solid scolding. However, they could also be seen as uncomplimentary to our allies, as a good many of them believe that your insinuation was that they are uncouth or heathens. I don't believe you meant that at all, and I do not believe that I need dishonor you by asking if you did. You may, however, wish to tell the Rohirrim this yourself. I'm sure that no more than this, carefully phraised, would go a long way to ease the tension that threatens to engulf the camp on the very eve of what should be our triumph."

Deorwine hms and quietly departs without ceremony, tapping the flap out of the way and stepping out into the camp, leaving the wounded behind...

Indilzar suddenly laughs, "Oh, that and more son of Yerl. Yet ere that, we shall be engulfed by wolven teeth. Do not fear any ills. If there is, the Bragollach shall amend them with celerity."

The tailor's spirit lifts a bit at this, "Well spoken, Lord Bragollach." Now he chuckles, "I don't imagine your Huan will be wanting to miss them finding the lair and I would imagine him to be good help for it." And still a smile as he chides, "So leave us poor old cripples be and go get your wolven teeth. Perhaps a bit of Gondorian steel will teach them to leave well enough alone."

Indilzar replies, "To be frank son of Yerl, I question why we are yet here. Is not your quest complete?"

"My quest may be complete, but greater duty compells me to remain as long as there is a threat to what of my family lives within Theoden King's borders," Rorgan explains. "And it seems that Lieutenant Galdorim is of the same mind." He smiles, "In this way when e'er the Oath of Eorl is called upon again, none will say, 'But our allies come not when we are in need of help.' They will know we have fought and bled for them with honor and they will ride to us with the speed of the wind."

[Indilzar(#10108)] "And let me ask you," inquires Indilzar, "Where are the Rohirrim? What force do they come in?

"They are here in greater numbers than we, but I do see your point indeed." Rorgan intones, "Perhaps I should tell you something of the Battle of the Rammas Gate as it happened nigh on ten years ago."

[Indilzar(#10108)] "What is the point?" says Indilzar rhetorically, "Let us do the deed and be done. Huan hungers for the hunt."

Rorgan nods, "As you wish, Lord Indilzar. Hunt well, friend."

Rorgan nods, "As you wish, Lord Indilzar. Hunt well, friend."