When Pigs Fly

============== Lord of the Rings Calendar ==============
IC time is:    Twilight < About 9:35 PM >
IC day is:     Wednesday
IC date is:    September 7
Moon phase:    Last Quarter
Earendil:      Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is:    Third Age 3049
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RL time:        Thu Apr 15 07:11:58 2010
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Shepherding Village
This is the home of a small, proud, and independent people who live primarily by herding sheep in the open lands south of the Great East Road. Once driven from this region by troll depredations, they have returned and appear to be prospering, perhaps because they can also profit by trade on the Great East Road.

Or rather.... we should say it /was/ the home of these people. The many sturdy houses and smaller huts clustered on a hill here have mostly been burned. Some are yet standing, more are nothing more than charred timbers. Once, they were safely ensconced behind a deep ditch and wall. The ditch is filled with the ashy ghosts of thorn bushes ... and the gate hangs crookedly, black as charcoal.

But a stone wall is being built by a group of industrious dwarves, and many of the buildings that were still standing have been repaired. The village is now a mixture of the charred, skeletons of houses, and shiny new ones.

A long, low, smoke-stained building, sprawling along the hillside below the caravanserai, appears to the south. Its thatched roof has miraculously escaped burning - though there are black patches across it. Thick lead-paned windows are dark. A group of industrious men and dwarves and a few elves are camped in the open area.
Contents:
Hraefengar
Brev
Ered-Luin Encampment
Large Ballista
Finest Herd
Obvious exits:
Gathering House, Caravanserai, and Great East Road

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
It is the cold grey twilight hour, and as night settles in the construction work has quieted down camp fires are blazing here and there amid the camps, and a few early snores can be heard. The night is quite still, perhaps made more ominous by the nearby border of the forest.

But now the heavens stir, and the tops of the trees sway with a renewed wind -- or is it something more? A deep shadow there is against darkling sky, drifting steadily toward the village from the north.

[Brev(#30997)] Brev is not among those who have sought their blankets nor is he gathered around the illusory safety of the little fires. Rather he stands at the place where the animals are picketed, over by the shaggy brown pony that answers sometimes to the name of Mescan and sometimes to rather less savoury epithets. In his hand is a coarse-toothed wooden comb, a fair copy of the one used by the flaxen-haired Hraefengar save that rather than bearing a decoration this one is unashamedly plain and unadorned, and he is attempting to groom the tangled mane.

The pony snorts and throws up its head, and Brev scowls. "Stand still, will you, damn it? Not /my/ idea of fun either. Can think of plenty of things I'd rather be doing, most of them involving-"
The beast whickers and the man's words cease. He looks to the forest uneasily, his free hand slipping to his dagger. "Something out there, eh?" he murmurs very softly.

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
Something out there indeed, and this way that something comes. Above the dancing branches and tree tops there has arisen a rather loud flapping noise soon the outline might be discerned against the night: it is a huge silhouette, elongated on either side by enormous wings that beat lazily over the air. Starlight glints off talons and beak, and there appears to be something held in the latter, dangling limply as the Great Eagle draws even closer overhead.

Suddenly, the hanging item is released, landing with a thud upon the ground somewhere in Brev and the pony's vacinity. It is a dead boar. The winged shape circles overhead.

[Brev(#30997)] Brev's gaze fixes automatically on the trees and not the skies above thus it is that the Eagle is almost overhead before the source of the flapping is identified and his head jerks up, amber eyes widening though he does not run.

The pony has no such inhibitions and tugs at its rope, causing Brev to lay a restraining arm round the creature's neck. When the unforseen bounty drops from the skies, it is all too much. The little beast lets out a ringing neigh and tries to bolt. Result? Brev, who would make no claims to being an expert horse-handler at the best of times, suddenly finds himself tossed flat on his back, with an uninterrupted, if rather dazed, view of the Eagle. Beside him the pony lunges, its picket-peg working looser by the moment.

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
Sulgirion contributes more to Brev's uninterrupted view, slowly drawing nearer and nearer in a downward spiral. But he does not land just yet, instead watching the struggling pony with a large bright eye. Unperturbed by the commotion, a raspy avian voice flows from above, though kept lower in consideration for those who already sleep. "It is rather late for dinner, I am afraid, but I promised to return with a part of my hunt. You may have it if it suits you." The unblinking stare peers at the topppled lad.

[Brev(#30997)] Brev stares, mesmerized, as those great wings descend. When the words come, he swallows and makes (rather breathless) answer. "If not dinner it'll do for breakfast. Some of us aren't choosy." And then, after a long pause, a little-used and perhaps little-remembered word is tossed in, "Uh - thanks." He levers himself up to a sitting position - just in time to see the brown pony pull up its picket and make a break for the ditch and the trees beyond, away from live Eagles and dead pigs. "Kiern!" the man groans, and staggers back to his feet.

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
The eagle's head turns sideways as the pony bolts, and the slow content spiraling is replaced by a single beat of the wings and a tilting of tail feathers. With startling speed for his titanic size, Sulgirion follows the frightened animal from overhead, manuevering to come in front of it -- between it and the yonder 'safety' of the Shaws. Tha avian has only recently eaten...surely he only seeks to herd it back towards Brev?

[Brev(#30997)] The frightened animal rears, striking out with its hooves at empty air. Then herd instinct takes over, and the pony wheels to head back the way it came, back amongst others of their own kind. Some of these have caught the sense of panic too, and a few snorts and stamps can be heard, although the Dwarven ponies at least are perhaps more accustomed to the sight and scent of the Misties' winged guardians.

Brev barely has time to move before the pony comes charging back toward him. He does his best, and tries to grab at the trailing rope, only to miss as the creature detours round the boar. At least its steps are slowing. "Kiern!" he mutters again, then twists his head round to call urgently over his shoulder, "Uh, give me a moment?" This time as he approaches the pony he murmurs to it in a tone that is soothing, even if the words are not: "Calm down, you bloody idiot. It's all right, lad, it's not going to eat you tonight. Sides, you've too much hair, probably give it indigestion."

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
Sulgirion for his part stays well away, hovering in the distance though his gold-crowned head is still canted as he watches on. Though it is hard to tell emotions with the restrictiveness of avian expressions, a hint of amusement might be seen in the great amber eyes. "Certainly," replies the eagle, appearing to wait in patient and unconcerned observance he does not near to help further, for fear of scaring the poor pony anew.

[Brev(#30997)] The pony ignores both words and the one speaking them in favour of pushing in amidst the other animals (if the Eagle /is/ out for a snack, surely one of the docile Dwarven pack-animals will look far more tasty?).

Brev sighs and falls silent. After a while he eases in to rub at the beast's neck before lifting a heavy stone to hammer the picket-peg in in a new position. Then, with a shrug, he leaves the pony to the comfort of its own peers and steps toward the edge of the village again, where the grey of twilight is becoming the blue-black of full night. "Uh ... was there something you were wanting?" he calls tensely into the skies. "Apart from yon fellow, he's not for sale. Today or ever."

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
The eagle bobs his head in an avian nod of understanding, although a light wild-edged laugh comes soon after. "Sale? I fear I could not hope to buy him any time soon, nor anything else for that matter. Yellow metal and other curr--" Sulgirion frowns a bit, his beak and tongue working to produce the correct word. "Current-cy are not of much use to my kind."

"It is not food or animals that I would want," he continues, still glancing downward. "But rather a healer." Even as he speaks, it might be noticed that one wings beats a little more awkwardly at the air.

[Brev(#30997)] The tension clearly visible in Brev's leather-clad shoulders does dissipate a little at those first words, and he manages a barked laugh of his own. "Can't say my folk use them much either. Mostly trade in goods, or skills ... or sharpened steel." For a moment his eyes glint.

At the other words his eyes narrow, assessing. "What've you done? Suppose I could take a look at it ..." The words trail off into awkward silence as he measures just how many of the emerging stars those wings blot out.

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
"It is not serious," Sulgirion shifts his own head to peer sidelong at the left wing, where the 'shoulder' would be. "Before I returned with the wild pig, something hurled a spear in my direction. I did not see what however, and I had been nigh the ground then, following catching the animal. The trees were too thickly spaced for the spear to be avoided. I managed to dislodge it, though not without further injury."

He pauses, then continues. "If you would look it would be greatly appreciated. First, I think I shall rest. Dawn light should be better to see by." The large bird sails the remainder of the distance through the air, settling down at last on a part of the rebuilt stone wall that surrounds the village.

[Brev(#30997)] 'Something'? Brev's brows arch. "I see," he says levelly, returning his features to a neutral expression. "I'll take a look, aye. Likely it'll just need cleaned. Goblin cuts always do. Nothing a good hot knife won't cure." Perhaps the twist to his mouth is meant to be a smile.

He watches the gargantuan avian move away, then sighs and rubs at his face. "Can't say I'd object to a little rest either. You going to stay put this time, Ba- uh, Mescan?" This last is directed at the pony and is, of course, ignored. The beast, still eyeing its surroundings uneasily, has returned to fretful grazing.