Elendor
Meeting on the Moors
Arthamon runs into a group of Beorning travelers camped on the Moors between the High Pass and Imladris.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: The Misty Moors
Game Date: 46 Iavas
IC Time: Morning
Weather: Misty
Description: The Misty Moors
A round hill rises here, often half-obscured by mist steaming from cataracts, the upper reaches of the northern tributary of the Bruinen.
From this hill the lands about can be seen easily: north, beyond the cataracts, the foothills of the Misty Mountains to the west, a valley descending toward the lowlands of Rhudaur, green with trees to the east, the line of the Misty Mountains and traces of an old road or path climbing up into the hills. South, the land rises gradually into a high moorland, barren, crisscrossed by ravines, punctuated by small stands of trees and tumbles of rock. To the southeast, the view is obscured by a line of heavily forested ridges.
Several hours past morning on another September day when it is again--thankfully--NOT raining. Still, though the day is clear, a constant mist clouds this area, especially by the hillside, where brown, low-slung tents have been pitched. A group of no more than a dozen men and one woman are busy in the camp, though most of the men are right now out on the moors, cutting peat. In the camp still is a tall, broad man with curly brown hair, plainly dressed and not armed. Mobeorn stands, gazing across the moors, squinting.
[Arthamon(#24624)] The footfalls of the man who approaches the camp are soft and swift as he approaches the camp of the Beornings. His eyes glaze as he approaches, slowing in his step a bit as he gets closer. Stopping a few feet away, the man holds up a hand to the broad man on the edge of the camp. "You are from the lands of the Beornings?" he says stiffly, surveying the man closely.
The Beorning man has stooped down to pick up a sturdy branch and use that to stir up the ashes of the campfire some, a some small sticks of firewood in his other hand as he prepares to get the fire going again this morning. But even before the sound of footfalls reach teh camp, Mobeorn has looked up--as if the wind carried a new scent on it to him. He watches Arthamon approach, eyes checking every detail of the stranger. "And who is it that asks such?" he replies as Arthamon draws near enough to question him. "We are but travelers camped here for a short time."
Cecilia wanders over, the young woman holding a thick handful of flowers, of all things. She's been wandering around for the last hour picking them. She looks at Arthamon curiously, standing just behind Mobeorn as the large man poses his question.
[Arthamon(#24624)] The tall man raises a hand. "I come from Elrond's house," he explains firmly, "Word came to us that a camp of men was near here, and I left to meet them. Three guards from Elrond's house should have come as well." Brief time spent amongst the people of the house of Beor, however, tell this man that he is at the right camp.
"Ah." Mobeorn smiles and turns his attention back to re-starting the fire, which takes little work. "Yes, there was an elleth here last night by the name of...of..." He frowns, looking to Cecilia for help on that. "And her guards. But I was on watch adn left whiel the woman was invited to breakfast with our folk. Don't know when she returned, but apparently word has reached your fair valley of us. In any case, if you come from Elrond's house, as you say...." there's a faint flicker of disbelief at that, given the state of Arthamon's garb and hair..."then what news do you bring?"
[Cecilia(#23897)] "Elinuial." Cecilia provides, offering Arthamon a friendly smile, though she continues to linger back behind Mobeorn. "You're not an elf... how are you allowed in their valley?" She asks curiously, still smiling.
[Arthamon(#24624)] "I bring none," the man replies, his eyes unwavering, "I have merely come to aid in escorting your camp to the Valley or wherever you wish to go." Without looking at Cecilia, he answers the second question, as if the answer has been rehearsed a hundred times. "I am free to wander wherever I wish, including the valley. You may call me Wanderer in fact."
"Wanderer..." Mobeorn's lips twist into a slight frown. "Grey, Wandererer, Squirrel, Strider..add to that Harper...it seems the world is rife with nicknames these days. I, for one, will give you my right and proper name, Mobeorn, kin of Grimbeorn, the Laird of the Anduin Valley and of the Beorning village and its peoples that allied with my kin. -I- have no fear or need to hide my name and purpose in this land or any other,' he adds, with a sudden feral glint to his eyes. "But then, we came seekign peat to burn when we cross the High Pass to our lands. Alas, I would love to sample the honey of Rivendell again, but if we do so, likely it is that we the chance to cross the High Pass back home ot our lands before winter blocks the way. Still, we have some time to speak of news if you wish."
[<#23897>] Cecilia looks the man over slowly, her eyes drifting down to his leather boots. Her nose wrinkles up in disgust, " He wears animal skin. Does everyone on this side of the mountain dress so horribly?" She asks in a soft voice, leaning in close to Mobeorn.
[Arthamon(#24624)] "Yes, the elves did in fact mention that Harper was with you," he says more to himself, grinning at Mobeorn's words. The language of the house of Beor is foreign to him though, and when it is spoken by the woman he simply inclines his head slightly.
"I imagine that the lady would make mention of a musician traveling with a group of Beornigns, yes," Mobeorn laughs now. "The poor man is flat broke and couldn't pay for passage over the mountains by our Guides. So we took pity on him and helped his way across, clearing out a few dozen orcs in the doing, in any case. But the rains fell hard and we need that which we can burn for fire on the way back.."
[Cecilia(#23897)] "You know Lith?" The young woman suddenly asks, still holding the bundle of flowers tightly in one hand.
That said, Mobeorn turns his attention to the Beornign woman behind him--after a brief glance at the leather items Arthamon wears. " Aye, it's leather, and some poor animal suffered for it," he says to her, his eyes starting to glass over slightly. He pauses, though, his expression indicates he struggles deeply with something. " But..the ways of Beorn are not followed outside our lands...and if this man is indeed a friend and ally of the elves, then he, too, is our ally."
[Arthamon(#24624)] Wanderer's eyes widen ever so slightly at Cecilia, but his voice remains flat. "I know Harper," he replies, stressing the name Harper, "At least, I know he is here with you." Whatever is being said in Eothrik is beyond the man, who simply gazes from Cecilia to Mobeorn as the Beijabar speaks in his undecipherable tongue.
If Mobeorn gives any offense by talking in Eothrik--the language of the Beorning men--he is oblivious to it. "Yes, the harper plays well," he grins. "Sang for his supper and turned many a pretty head his way. Funny how musicians can charm the young ladies," he adds, with a quick wink to Cecilia, teasing. "Still, his singing doesn't match that of the elves. There was one of the elvenkind in our lands, recently, too. Quite a singer, that one. Seems that his songs can heal the wounds of orcs, or so it felt..." he shrugs casually, but in that casualness he also watches Arthamon in a canny sort of way, looking for his reaction carefully--almost as if to test him. "Goes by the name of Herion in our lands. I need to findhim. He and I have a mutual task to finish, I think, in our lands."
Cecilia flushes faintly when Mobeorn gives her that teasing wink, an almost guilty expression crossing her face. She toys with the bundle of flowers in her hand, watching Arthamon quietly now.
[Arthamon(#24624)] Wanderer smiles a bit, his features lighting up somewhat. The name Herion in no way changes the Ranger's face, unless it makes him smile more. "Now that I have not heard of often. What task have you and Herion started out on?"
Mobeorn's eyes narrow a bit at this answer from Arthamon and his right foot shifts, pawing at the groundsome. "Well," he answers Arthamon, deep suspicion in his voice now, "if you do not know, far be it from me to tell you. After all, you only claim you come from Elrond's house...but this is the wilderness--what proof do I have that your claim is true? Spies of the enemy have claimed such to us in the past, in fact," he continues, his voice starting to deteriorate into a growl.
[Arthamon(#24624)] Surprisingly, the Ranger laughs at Mobeorn's words. "I have travelled here and there. That is why they call me Wanderer. Yes though, I come from Elrond's House to help escort you in anyway I can. If I were from the Enemy, as you call it, why would I walk into your midst without visible weapons?"
Cecilia senses that the discussion between Mobeorn and Arthamon may be turning sour. She frowns faintly, then decides to go back to what she was doing, collecting various flowers and herbs for her medicine.
"Not good enough," Mobeorn growls--and those of the Beorning might start to recognize a certain note in the man's voice that indicates a very special sort of danger. "The enemy is devious and your weapons could be hidden. Still...." he sniffs at the air, frowning, "I'm not certain of you, at least. You don't -seem- foul, but I will keep my news to myself nonetheless."
[Lithiugelir(#27282)]
In the morning light, a figure can be seen for a moment as it tops a rise in the many folds of the land near the camp. A tall man or elf, grey cloaked against the chilly wind coming down from the mountains that sweep endlessly over the open uplands here. Carrying a long bow in hand with a quiver and other things over his back, the figure approaches from higher up the slopes.
In a few moments, they have disapeared back down into a fold of the land that ripples and hides so much here...
[Arthamon(#24624)] Wanderer nods sagely at Mobeorn. "You should be on guard. I do not blame you for your distrust. I do not particularly look attractive." he points to his dirty cloak before noticing movement in the grasses.
"We shall see, won't we?" Mobeorn replies, then hesitates at a sudden thought, his eyes narrowing again at Arthamon. "Though I suppose, Wanderer, that if you guide us to Elrond's house as you say you would shoudl we wish it, then that would prove you are trustworthy. Aye, we might go there for a day or so, but not for much longer. The weather changes too quickly in the mountains."
That said, the skinchanger turns, catching something out of the corner of his eye. He squints into the hills for several moments. "Well...somethign comes our way, but I know not what. Unarmed, you say?" he looks to Arthamon.
[Lithiugelir(#27282)]
The approaching figure comes into view again as he walks with long, easy strides up the rise of land that the camp is laid out below... then coming down the slope, it becomes clear to those who know him that it is Lith, the harper.
Catching sight in turn of the familiar form of Mobeorn, the harper shifts his course to join the others. As he comes up, pale grey eyes skim over the stranger who has joined them. A nod of his head towards Arthamon, but the new arrival says nothing.
[Arthamon(#24624)] "I can lead you to the Valley, but you must be blindfolded. That is Elrond's custom, although I am sure you know this. You said you have been there before." Wanderer turns his head as Lithuigelir's head comes into view. He smiles. "Long time, no see, Harper."
As he recognizes Lith, Mobeorn relaxes and speaks to Arthamon's comments. "Aye, we were blindfolded not 3 months ago, so I'm familiar with the custom." Mobeorn grins, though, sniffing the air just slightly, his nose twitching in humor over -something- about that.
"We were just discussing," he tells Lith as that man comes up to them, "whether 'Wanderer' here would lead us to Elrond's house. And whether or not he is to be believed when he says he knows the way. He knows many details of things, but none that couldn't be learned from tricks and cleverness. In any case, Harper, if it is that we decided to stop a few days in Rivendell, where will your path take you? For then we must part, no?"
[Lithiugelir(#27282)]
A genuine smile for the one calling himself 'Wanderer' from the harper, "Aye, I have been gone overlong. Tis good to return and see good folk of home." A flicker of a glance for Mobeorn before Lith asks of Arthamon, "I hear tell that last season was ... most difficult. If mayhap you can tell me o' it, I shall perhaps have a tale or two to tell myself."
Lithiugelir listens then to Mobeorn quietly and considers his own answer carefully. A glance to the other Dunadan before he gives answer, "It may be that he knows the way, friend. Should you and yours decide you have enough time to get back across the pass ere the snows grow too deep."
Another brief pause, thinking before the harper finishes as he leans lightly upon the long yew bow he carries, "As to where I should go, perhaps I might be welcome to come with you, should you venture forth as guests in said valley?"
[Arthamon(#24624)] The Ranger beams. "I do indeed know the way, and if you will have me, then I will guide you," he whispers to Mobeorn. His eyes hide nothing, his face solemn.
The Beorning looks between the two men, considering carefully. "I think..." he answers, thinking out his words, "that we will venture again to Elrond's house for a short time. I need to get back to the dark forest to help Herion if I may. But I would first give word of what happened in the woods and try to gain some help if we can. We cleared teh Old Forest Road only by luck--I fear it will be held against us again unless we can muster enough force."
Mobeorn turns, looking to Arthamon. "This means I have to trust to you, Wanderer. I'm not certain that I should, but it seems that you know Lith somehow--and he you? And Lith, for one, I have grown to trust, by wont of his...singing. Yes." He laughs, actually, just a bit.
[Lithiugelir(#27282)]
A soft laugh for Mobeorn from the harper, "Aye, you can trust him, friend. I shall vouche for him." Lith shifts the long bow, keeping it in his right hand as he turns to glance back towards the camp, "Has the elleth and those who came as escort with her still here?"
[Arthamon(#24624)] Arthamon nods and smiles at Harper. "Thank you friend," he says before turning his gaze towards the camp. "Now, I fancy you have food in your camp? Ah, it's no matter. I shall find my own dinner." The Ranger turns and is soon lost in the tall grasses.
'I don't know,' Mobeorn answers the harper's second question first. 'I was on watch but I believe she and her escort left for the valley ere the sun rose--though I did not see them leave.'
A nod is given to Arthamon's departure, the skinchanger watching as that man disappears over the hill. 'If you trust him, I will take your word on it, then. Though likely he is off to hunt. I imagine you want to join him?' he then grins quickly to Lith. 'But then, you're not in my lands, and why shouldn't you resume your customs? Cecilia, alas, will be shocked I think. And I...I'm learning...'
Still, though, Mobeorn remains starring in the direction where Arthamon walked off to. " Your kin?" he asks, finally, very quiet.
[Lithiugelir(#27282)]
Lith is also watching 'Wanderer' doing precisely that, wandering off over the land and soon gone from imeadiate view in the folds and undelations thereon. An absent nod to Mobeorn at the news of the elleth's probable departure, but then he's caught with that faint longing in his own face by the Beijabar's following words.
A quick glance back to his friend, then the harper says, "I ... " then a smile, "She would not be so shocked I think. She knows I hunt and wear leather, though she wrinkles up her nose in a most ..." he stops himself from discribing that particular, charming habit of Cecilia's. Clearing his throat, Lith then adds, "I would indeed like to slip off for a little. Perhaps have a word with this 'Wanderer'." There is a hint of humor in his eyes, glancing out in the direction the other had slipped away.
To Mobeorn's last, Lithiugelir's eyes slip back to his friend, then quickly away again to look at the land around them. Then a faint nod as he shifts his bow for easier carrying, "Aye." he answers softly in Westron before breaking into a light jog to go and catch up with the other.
The shapechanger shows no surprise at that answer to his question in the elvish tongue, but he nods, seeming more at ease by it."Good, very good," Mobeorn says. "We'll pack up here, then, meantime," he says, turning to start doing just that as Lith jogs off..
A round hill rises here, often half-obscured by mist steaming from cataracts, the upper reaches of the northern tributary of the Bruinen.
From this hill the lands about can be seen easily: north, beyond the cataracts, the foothills of the Misty Mountains to the west, a valley descending toward the lowlands of Rhudaur, green with trees to the east, the line of the Misty Mountains and traces of an old road or path climbing up into the hills. South, the land rises gradually into a high moorland, barren, crisscrossed by ravines, punctuated by small stands of trees and tumbles of rock. To the southeast, the view is obscured by a line of heavily forested ridges.
Several hours past morning on another September day when it is again--thankfully--NOT raining. Still, though the day is clear, a constant mist clouds this area, especially by the hillside, where brown, low-slung tents have been pitched. A group of no more than a dozen men and one woman are busy in the camp, though most of the men are right now out on the moors, cutting peat. In the camp still is a tall, broad man with curly brown hair, plainly dressed and not armed. Mobeorn stands, gazing across the moors, squinting.
[Arthamon(#24624)] The footfalls of the man who approaches the camp are soft and swift as he approaches the camp of the Beornings. His eyes glaze as he approaches, slowing in his step a bit as he gets closer. Stopping a few feet away, the man holds up a hand to the broad man on the edge of the camp. "You are from the lands of the Beornings?" he says stiffly, surveying the man closely.
The Beorning man has stooped down to pick up a sturdy branch and use that to stir up the ashes of the campfire some, a some small sticks of firewood in his other hand as he prepares to get the fire going again this morning. But even before the sound of footfalls reach teh camp, Mobeorn has looked up--as if the wind carried a new scent on it to him. He watches Arthamon approach, eyes checking every detail of the stranger. "And who is it that asks such?" he replies as Arthamon draws near enough to question him. "We are but travelers camped here for a short time."
Cecilia wanders over, the young woman holding a thick handful of flowers, of all things. She's been wandering around for the last hour picking them. She looks at Arthamon curiously, standing just behind Mobeorn as the large man poses his question.
[Arthamon(#24624)] The tall man raises a hand. "I come from Elrond's house," he explains firmly, "Word came to us that a camp of men was near here, and I left to meet them. Three guards from Elrond's house should have come as well." Brief time spent amongst the people of the house of Beor, however, tell this man that he is at the right camp.
"Ah." Mobeorn smiles and turns his attention back to re-starting the fire, which takes little work. "Yes, there was an elleth here last night by the name of...of..." He frowns, looking to Cecilia for help on that. "And her guards. But I was on watch adn left whiel the woman was invited to breakfast with our folk. Don't know when she returned, but apparently word has reached your fair valley of us. In any case, if you come from Elrond's house, as you say...." there's a faint flicker of disbelief at that, given the state of Arthamon's garb and hair..."then what news do you bring?"
[Cecilia(#23897)] "Elinuial." Cecilia provides, offering Arthamon a friendly smile, though she continues to linger back behind Mobeorn. "You're not an elf... how are you allowed in their valley?" She asks curiously, still smiling.
[Arthamon(#24624)] "I bring none," the man replies, his eyes unwavering, "I have merely come to aid in escorting your camp to the Valley or wherever you wish to go." Without looking at Cecilia, he answers the second question, as if the answer has been rehearsed a hundred times. "I am free to wander wherever I wish, including the valley. You may call me Wanderer in fact."
"Wanderer..." Mobeorn's lips twist into a slight frown. "Grey, Wandererer, Squirrel, Strider..add to that Harper...it seems the world is rife with nicknames these days. I, for one, will give you my right and proper name, Mobeorn, kin of Grimbeorn, the Laird of the Anduin Valley and of the Beorning village and its peoples that allied with my kin. -I- have no fear or need to hide my name and purpose in this land or any other,' he adds, with a sudden feral glint to his eyes. "But then, we came seekign peat to burn when we cross the High Pass to our lands. Alas, I would love to sample the honey of Rivendell again, but if we do so, likely it is that we the chance to cross the High Pass back home ot our lands before winter blocks the way. Still, we have some time to speak of news if you wish."
[<#23897>] Cecilia looks the man over slowly, her eyes drifting down to his leather boots. Her nose wrinkles up in disgust, "
[Arthamon(#24624)] "Yes, the elves did in fact mention that Harper was with you," he says more to himself, grinning at Mobeorn's words. The language of the house of Beor is foreign to him though, and when it is spoken by the woman he simply inclines his head slightly.
"I imagine that the lady would make mention of a musician traveling with a group of Beornigns, yes," Mobeorn laughs now. "The poor man is flat broke and couldn't pay for passage over the mountains by our Guides. So we took pity on him and helped his way across, clearing out a few dozen orcs in the doing, in any case. But the rains fell hard and we need that which we can burn for fire on the way back.."
[Cecilia(#23897)] "You know Lith?" The young woman suddenly asks, still holding the bundle of flowers tightly in one hand.
That said, Mobeorn turns his attention to the Beornign woman behind him--after a brief glance at the leather items Arthamon wears. "
[Arthamon(#24624)] Wanderer's eyes widen ever so slightly at Cecilia, but his voice remains flat. "I know Harper," he replies, stressing the name Harper, "At least, I know he is here with you." Whatever is being said in Eothrik is beyond the man, who simply gazes from Cecilia to Mobeorn as the Beijabar speaks in his undecipherable tongue.
If Mobeorn gives any offense by talking in Eothrik--the language of the Beorning men--he is oblivious to it. "Yes, the harper plays well," he grins. "Sang for his supper and turned many a pretty head his way. Funny how musicians can charm the young ladies," he adds, with a quick wink to Cecilia, teasing. "Still, his singing doesn't match that of the elves. There was one of the elvenkind in our lands, recently, too. Quite a singer, that one. Seems that his songs can heal the wounds of orcs, or so it felt..." he shrugs casually, but in that casualness he also watches Arthamon in a canny sort of way, looking for his reaction carefully--almost as if to test him. "Goes by the name of Herion in our lands. I need to findhim. He and I have a mutual task to finish, I think, in our lands."
Cecilia flushes faintly when Mobeorn gives her that teasing wink, an almost guilty expression crossing her face. She toys with the bundle of flowers in her hand, watching Arthamon quietly now.
[Arthamon(#24624)] Wanderer smiles a bit, his features lighting up somewhat. The name Herion in no way changes the Ranger's face, unless it makes him smile more. "Now that I have not heard of often. What task have you and Herion started out on?"
Mobeorn's eyes narrow a bit at this answer from Arthamon and his right foot shifts, pawing at the groundsome. "Well," he answers Arthamon, deep suspicion in his voice now, "if you do not know, far be it from me to tell you. After all, you only claim you come from Elrond's house...but this is the wilderness--what proof do I have that your claim is true? Spies of the enemy have claimed such to us in the past, in fact," he continues, his voice starting to deteriorate into a growl.
[Arthamon(#24624)] Surprisingly, the Ranger laughs at Mobeorn's words. "I have travelled here and there. That is why they call me Wanderer. Yes though, I come from Elrond's House to help escort you in anyway I can. If I were from the Enemy, as you call it, why would I walk into your midst without visible weapons?"
Cecilia senses that the discussion between Mobeorn and Arthamon may be turning sour. She frowns faintly, then decides to go back to what she was doing, collecting various flowers and herbs for her medicine.
"Not good enough," Mobeorn growls--and those of the Beorning might start to recognize a certain note in the man's voice that indicates a very special sort of danger. "The enemy is devious and your weapons could be hidden. Still...." he sniffs at the air, frowning, "I'm not certain of you, at least. You don't -seem- foul, but I will keep my news to myself nonetheless."
[Lithiugelir(#27282)]
In the morning light, a figure can be seen for a moment as it tops a rise in the many folds of the land near the camp. A tall man or elf, grey cloaked against the chilly wind coming down from the mountains that sweep endlessly over the open uplands here. Carrying a long bow in hand with a quiver and other things over his back, the figure approaches from higher up the slopes.
In a few moments, they have disapeared back down into a fold of the land that ripples and hides so much here...
[Arthamon(#24624)] Wanderer nods sagely at Mobeorn. "You should be on guard. I do not blame you for your distrust. I do not particularly look attractive." he points to his dirty cloak before noticing movement in the grasses.
"We shall see, won't we?" Mobeorn replies, then hesitates at a sudden thought, his eyes narrowing again at Arthamon. "Though I suppose, Wanderer, that if you guide us to Elrond's house as you say you would shoudl we wish it, then that would prove you are trustworthy. Aye, we might go there for a day or so, but not for much longer. The weather changes too quickly in the mountains."
That said, the skinchanger turns, catching something out of the corner of his eye. He squints into the hills for several moments. "Well...somethign comes our way, but I know not what. Unarmed, you say?" he looks to Arthamon.
[Lithiugelir(#27282)]
The approaching figure comes into view again as he walks with long, easy strides up the rise of land that the camp is laid out below... then coming down the slope, it becomes clear to those who know him that it is Lith, the harper.
Catching sight in turn of the familiar form of Mobeorn, the harper shifts his course to join the others. As he comes up, pale grey eyes skim over the stranger who has joined them. A nod of his head towards Arthamon, but the new arrival says nothing.
[Arthamon(#24624)] "I can lead you to the Valley, but you must be blindfolded. That is Elrond's custom, although I am sure you know this. You said you have been there before." Wanderer turns his head as Lithuigelir's head comes into view. He smiles. "Long time, no see, Harper."
As he recognizes Lith, Mobeorn relaxes and speaks to Arthamon's comments. "Aye, we were blindfolded not 3 months ago, so I'm familiar with the custom." Mobeorn grins, though, sniffing the air just slightly, his nose twitching in humor over -something- about that.
"We were just discussing," he tells Lith as that man comes up to them, "whether 'Wanderer' here would lead us to Elrond's house. And whether or not he is to be believed when he says he knows the way. He knows many details of things, but none that couldn't be learned from tricks and cleverness. In any case, Harper, if it is that we decided to stop a few days in Rivendell, where will your path take you? For then we must part, no?"
[Lithiugelir(#27282)]
A genuine smile for the one calling himself 'Wanderer' from the harper, "Aye, I have been gone overlong. Tis good to return and see good folk of home." A flicker of a glance for Mobeorn before Lith asks of Arthamon, "I hear tell that last season was ... most difficult. If mayhap you can tell me o' it, I shall perhaps have a tale or two to tell myself."
Lithiugelir listens then to Mobeorn quietly and considers his own answer carefully. A glance to the other Dunadan before he gives answer, "It may be that he knows the way, friend. Should you and yours decide you have enough time to get back across the pass ere the snows grow too deep."
Another brief pause, thinking before the harper finishes as he leans lightly upon the long yew bow he carries, "As to where I should go, perhaps I might be welcome to come with you, should you venture forth as guests in said valley?"
[Arthamon(#24624)] The Ranger beams. "I do indeed know the way, and if you will have me, then I will guide you," he whispers to Mobeorn. His eyes hide nothing, his face solemn.
The Beorning looks between the two men, considering carefully. "I think..." he answers, thinking out his words, "that we will venture again to Elrond's house for a short time. I need to get back to the dark forest to help Herion if I may. But I would first give word of what happened in the woods and try to gain some help if we can. We cleared teh Old Forest Road only by luck--I fear it will be held against us again unless we can muster enough force."
Mobeorn turns, looking to Arthamon. "This means I have to trust to you, Wanderer. I'm not certain that I should, but it seems that you know Lith somehow--and he you? And Lith, for one, I have grown to trust, by wont of his...singing. Yes." He laughs, actually, just a bit.
[Lithiugelir(#27282)]
A soft laugh for Mobeorn from the harper, "Aye, you can trust him, friend. I shall vouche for him." Lith shifts the long bow, keeping it in his right hand as he turns to glance back towards the camp, "Has the elleth and those who came as escort with her still here?"
[Arthamon(#24624)] Arthamon nods and smiles at Harper. "Thank you friend," he says before turning his gaze towards the camp. "Now, I fancy you have food in your camp? Ah, it's no matter. I shall find my own dinner." The Ranger turns and is soon lost in the tall grasses.
'I don't know,' Mobeorn answers the harper's second question first. 'I was on watch but I believe she and her escort left for the valley ere the sun rose--though I did not see them leave.'
A nod is given to Arthamon's departure, the skinchanger watching as that man disappears over the hill. 'If you trust him, I will take your word on it, then. Though likely he is off to hunt. I imagine you want to join him?' he then grins quickly to Lith. 'But then, you're not in my lands, and why shouldn't you resume your customs? Cecilia, alas, will be shocked I think. And I...I'm learning...'
Still, though, Mobeorn remains starring in the direction where Arthamon walked off to. "
[Lithiugelir(#27282)]
Lith is also watching 'Wanderer' doing precisely that, wandering off over the land and soon gone from imeadiate view in the folds and undelations thereon. An absent nod to Mobeorn at the news of the elleth's probable departure, but then he's caught with that faint longing in his own face by the Beijabar's following words.
A quick glance back to his friend, then the harper says, "I ... " then a smile, "She would not be so shocked I think. She knows I hunt and wear leather, though she wrinkles up her nose in a most ..." he stops himself from discribing that particular, charming habit of Cecilia's. Clearing his throat, Lith then adds, "I would indeed like to slip off for a little. Perhaps have a word with this 'Wanderer'." There is a hint of humor in his eyes, glancing out in the direction the other had slipped away.
To Mobeorn's last, Lithiugelir's eyes slip back to his friend, then quickly away again to look at the land around them. Then a faint nod as he shifts his bow for easier carrying, "Aye." he answers softly in Westron before breaking into a light jog to go and catch up with the other.
The shapechanger shows no surprise at that answer to his question in the elvish tongue, but he nods, seeming more at ease by it."Good, very good," Mobeorn says. "We'll pack up here, then, meantime," he says, turning to start doing just that as Lith jogs off..
Players: Arthamon,Lithiugelir,Ceclia,Mobeorn
