Wooly Present
============== Lord of the Rings Calendar
IC time is: Nighttime < About 12:01 PM >
IC day is: Friday
IC date is: March 23
Moon phase: Waxing Crescent
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Third Age 3049
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RL time: Thu Feb 18 15:00:31 2010
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North-South Road - Approaching Tharbad
As the road descends into the lowlands of the Greyflood, it is surrounded by swamps, until it has become a mere causeway, and even that threatens to disappear into the surrounding fens: now and then one is forced to wade across places the road itself has washed out and disappeared. Not far across the Greyflood as the crow flies you can see the ruins of Tharbad, but it will take a major effort to get there, for there is no bridge any more, only a deep ford crossed by a strong current.
Contents:
Brev
Obvious exits:
Marshes leads to Swanfleet.
SouthWest leads to Lower Gwathlo.
West leads to Swamps near the Greyflood.
SouthEast leads to North-South Road - South of Tharbad.
NorthWest leads to The Greenway, Near Ruins of Tharbad.
Nob arrives from the southeast. A rabbit scampers out of the brush.
Nob has arrived.
[Brev(#30997)] Dusk has come to the marshes surrounding the Greyflood, and tendrils of mist writhe amidst reed and fen. The place, though desolate, is not quiet - skiens of waterfowl fill the skies with their mornful honking or come wheeling in to roost in squawking congregations near the river's edge.
Amidst the cacophony, the group of travellers huddled together on an island of drier ground beneath a stand of stunted willows might pass almost unnoticed. The four who have travelled up from Wulf lands still have their two horses, the grey mare and the brown pony, and have acquired in addition a rather miserable-looking sheep, restrained round the neck by a length of thick rope. This, along with a sack of grain, is amongst the 'supplies' Brev procured from his acquaintances in the ruins of Harthunn. A rather odd choice for a long journey, surely?
Saraid is a little way away from the other, and Brev frowns at her, making as though to move that way, then thinks better of it. Instead he starts to wind the end of the sheep's rope round a willow-trunk. ".. cross at first light," he is saying to his companions. "Can put most of the supplies on the B- uh, Mescan here." He catches himself in time as he jerks his head toward the pony, currently untethered.
[Sulgirion(#16643)]
Waterfowl have come to the river's edge, but something much larger is already standing in the rushing Greyflood, keeping to an area where the current is not as strong. Giant talons and legs submerged into the cold waters, a Great Eagle is busy stooping its brown feathered neck bright eyes shine through the dusk as the creature stares intently downward, and then plunges its beak into the river for a fish that darts by.
[Brev(#30997)] Brev at least is unaware of the river's outsize fisherman his head is bent as he ties the sheep's rope in a firm knot before rising to test it with a few firm tugs. "There, that should do it."
The brown pony, nose pointed toward the river, whickers uneasily and the man looks up. "What is it?" he enquires of the beast in sing-song Common, just as though it could understand him. "Fancy a drink, eh?" Turning back to his companions, he offers casually, "I'll take the beasts down to the river. Gidon, see if you can get us a duck or two for supper, eh? You had good luck last time." Then, without waiting for a response, he moves toward the brown pony, limping somewhat, and urges it forward. He squints toward the line of swirling waterfowl that mark the river's course, frowning slightly as he notices a gap in the bird-clouds.
[Sulgirion(#16643)]
The fish it snatched up, and with a quick raise of his head, Sulgirion swallows the small finned thing whole. A second water-breather comes too near, and there is a flash of black claws. The fish is sent skyward, twisting and lashing its tail from side to side vainly. With a wet plop it lands on the marshy riverbank, and suddenly there is a swarm of waterfowl and it is gone.
The larger avian emits a loud caw, turning his gaze in that direction a few of the waterfowl take flight and alight further away.
[Brev(#30997)] As the birds rise up, the pony shies Brev, wise to the beast's antics by now, grabs at the trailing rope-bridle. "Oh no you don't! What is it, lad? Trouble ahead?" He peers toward the river again then, limps a few steps to the top of a hillock of marsh-grass and parts the reeds ahead ...
It is then that the caw comes. The pony, which has well-developed sense of self-preservation, has heard such a sound before and knows exactly what to do - it bolts. At least this time Brev is not attempting to ride it, and is not thrown still, he is left behind. He curses, fluidly, in Dunael.
[Sulgirion(#16643)]
The sound of running hooves can be perceived above the rushing of the Greyflood and the honkings of the birds. Fish are forgotten for the moment - who needs fish when you can get a pony? Water ripples violently and splashes as the eagle shifts itself, and the great neck swerves to look. A new call comes, only this time shriller and more resounding than the first - Sulgirion opens his beak in an avian screech.
The current is disturbed even more as the bronze covered wings are flung out to beat at the air. Within seconds the raptor is airborne, and with a tilt of its tail feathers, it follows the path of the frightened pony at a distance. But the camp yonder is spotted, and the eagle seems to be rather observing the talons still drip water, but they are not lowered, kept tucked close to Sulgirion's body. His massive shadow darts over Brev where the lad stands amidst the reeds.
[Brev(#30997)] It all happens so quickly - the pony's panic, the eagle's flight ... Brev, limping after his prized beast far too slowly, does not even have a spear to cast. He does, however, have his sling, and this is tugged from his belt and a stone readied even as he moves.
When that huge shadow covers him, he freezes like a rabbit. "Oh Kiern!" he mutters, swarthy features paling and the muscle jumping in his cheek. But then he pulls himself together and a stone is cast. Not toward the mighty Eagle-shape - indeed, what hope could a puny sling-stone have of felling such a beast as that? - but toward a pool of still water between himself and the pony, where several smaller waterfowl, moorhens or something similar, rustle in the reeds. They erupt into squawking flight, hopefully fouling the flight path of any descending predator - and giving the pony more time to run.
Run the pony does, head tossing and eyes wild. Whether it will stop at the little camp, who can say?
[Sulgirion(#16643)]
Piercing amber eyes still fixed on the fleeing pony, the eagle continues its course, though it as of yet displays no intention of swooping. The head tilts sideways as a commotion of squawks and wings bursts into the air, and a surprised caw emerges from the Great Eagle's hooked mouth. The flurry of panicked waterfowl is too large to swerve around, as hindered as Sulgirion's sight is, and the avian is forced to halt in midflight, hovering, wings pounding the atmosphere into confused invisible ripples of wind.
The way ahead blocked for now, the large raptor directs his attention behind, and the bright eyes seem to blink. "Hark, who goes there?" raspy Westron breaks from the beak, as the sky-dweller espies the young Dunlending.
[Brev(#30997)] The pony passes the camp, still running, but then it slows. Flanks heaving and damp gleaming on its rough brown coat, it starts to circle round - should one of the others approach gently and speak soothingly to it, it will likely allow itself to be caught.
Brev, for his part, swallows hard at the words from on high. Gidon had claimed the great birds had the power of speech, but hearing the tale from another and meeting the proof in person are two entirely different things. "A traveller," he offers in Westron that is sing-song but perfectly clear his voice is hoarse. "One who doesn't wish to be dinner." He does not try to run or duck only the sweat beading his forehead hints at his true fear. His left hand reaches into his belt-pouch and curls round another stone.
[Nob(#16122)] There is no way to have missed the panic and scuffle by the river, and though Gidon is off a ways trying to hunt ducks (who are currently scattering every which way and almost impossible to hit), Owain is near enough to see the pony's flight, and to try and catch it.
[Sulgirion(#16643)]
The gale of the moorhens and other small winged animals has begun to clear Sulgirion takes the instant to observe the progress of the brown pony as it slows and is approached by another human. But closer to the camp, the eagle goes not, instead turning to circle low above the fenny land, passing in a full ring around the Man who speaks. The wild-accented Common Tongue comes anew, and the amber eyes are focused unblinkingly downward on Brev below. Blasts from his massive wings whip the ground, and stir the muck of the marshes.
"A traveler, you say? From whence do you come if I may inquire?" The gaze turns almost suspicious, wary even. "I would hope spies from Dunland have not tailed me, seeing whether or not I honor their forbidding my eating their livestock." Then a curious sound erutps - a bird-laugh as it were. "You do not need to fear regarding that, youngling," he says, tilting his head. "I would not eat you. It is sheep and horses that I prefer."
[Brev(#30997)] The pony, playing hard to get, sidles away at Owain's first approach, but allows the man to grab the rope bridle on the second attempt. The other steed, the grey mare, had remained securely tied to a tree but is clearly unhappy from the way her head is tossing Saraid is doing her best to calm the beast.
The breeze of the eagle's passing buffets at Brev, so that the man staggers with an effort the man straightens himself up, favouring his left leg. His dark curls are blown this way and that some stick to his forehead. "I come from back there." Brev lets his right hand, still holding the (currently empty) sling, point southward to where Dunland's hills and plains stretch toward the horizon. "Heading north. And," he has to swallow, the effort of staying calm is costing, "our horses aren't for eating. They've other uses." Narrowed eyes watch the eagle, as though he expects either himself or the hard-won steeds to be targeted at any moment.
[Sulgirion(#16643)]
Fortune smiles, for targeted are neither Men nor steeds - for the time being.
The slow circling continues, and Sulgirion cocks his gold-crowned head to the other side, turning his left eye curiously toward the earth where the lad stands. "They have other uses?" the eagle clacks his beak together, either out of hunger or thoughtfulness it is not clear which. "For riding, you mean? Very well," the gaze regards the other humans in the camp briefly ere returning, "there are a few of you no doubt you shall need mounts if you are traveling far...but you cannot ride sheep. You do not need it?"
[Brev(#30997)] Fixed by that gaze, Brev stands steadily, leaning heavily on his right leg. He lets his amber eyes focus on a point in the middle distance, his features staying composed a single bead of sweat trickles down his face, glistening, and into the scruffy beard that covers his chin these days.
At the question that gaze jerks suddenly toward the camp. "It was a payment. A-" he halts, frowning, and swipes an arm across his face before continuing. "A toll. Men live yonder," without looking round he blindly sweeps an arm behind him in a vaguely northwestward direction, and indeed there ruins can be seen beyond the riverbed, "got to give them something for us to pass." Silence, then, flatly and abruptly, "You hunger."
[Sulgirion(#16643)]
A bob-like nod is yielded in understanding, as well as acknowledgement. "Yes, indeed. It requires a lot of fish to satisfy my hunger," explains Sulgirion. "But fear not, for I shall refrain from taking your sheep if you say you need it to pass..."
The amber eyes glance up to see in the distance to where the Dunlending has pointed. "You wish to pass...how?" the eagle looks back down, a third ring being flown around Brev, but the beating of the wings and the gale-like force they send down are softer now. "The road is flooded, and the current strong. The bridge is no more."
[Brev(#30997)] Brev does not try to follow the motion with his eyes, though no doubt he is perfectly aware of the uncomfortable feeling of been circled as a hawk might a mouse. "By walking," he says. "Through the river, shouldn't be more than chest-high. The animals too. I'd imagine the sheep can swim ..." Whether he or one of the others can restrain it whilst battling the current is, of course, another question, and perhaps that accounts for the uncertainty in his features.
"Might be we can spare the sheep," he says after a silence, reluctantly, adding in a mutter under his breath, "though Kiern knows what I'll give them in its place. Not a horse, that's bloody sure."
[Sulgirion(#16643)]
"Crossing will be difficult, and risky if the animals do not possess fair health," says the eagle. "I-" falters Sulgirion before he continues, "could offer to bring you across in exchange for your sheep. Perhaps I could find a better 'toll' to give these humans of which you speak, something more worthy than a sheep. But, I am afraid you will need to settle for being helped across by way of talon, for my kind do not usually offer such - and we do not degrade ourselves to beasts of burden, to carrying two-legs on our backs."
[Brev(#30997)] That generous offer is received with a tightening of the shoulders and a betraying twitch of the muscle in Brev's cheek as the man regards those knife-sharp talons, followed by a small, perplexed frown as he notices something leather buried in the feathers. "I don't-" He stops, swallows his pride - and his fear. "I'd hope aid wouldn't be needed," he states matter-of-factly, with what politeness he can muster. "We crossed the Border River before ..." he lets the words trail off before conceding uncomfortably, "We didn't have the horses then."
He looks back to the camp, where both mare and pony are, for now, back under human control. He sighs, then seems to come to a decision. "You can have the sheep, Eagle." He does not ask for a name perhaps it does not occur to him the creature possesses one. "As to the rest ... we'll see in the morn, eh? Not just up to me." For a moment his gaze lingers on the smaller of the two figures back with the horses. He sighs again.
[Sulgirion(#16643)]
"So be it," replies the avian, as Brev mentions crossing previously, "and indeed, in the morning we shall see. Perhaps you will change your mind. For now, I would only that you consider my offer." The slow, ominous circling ceases, and the eagle cuts through the air with the sharp whoosing noise of wind rushing over smooth feathers. Bearing down on the yonder camp, he angles his wing blasts away from the humans to avoid knocking them to the ground - frightening them though is another matter. Wordlessly, the claws reach for the proffered sheep and the rope is snapped as the animal is tugged skyward. For now it is left alive, saving the Dunlendings from witnessing its fate.
Sulgirion sweeps back over Brev, "The meal is appreciated. I will come back to you at the dawn. In the meantime, think on the crossing." He begins to fly south.
[Brev(#30997)] Brev has no way of warning his fellows, and when the Eagle bears down on the camp he can do nothing but watch, his fist tightening around the sling he holds. As the mighty bird returns, he ducks his head in a nod - or perhaps he simply does not want to see how easily something the size of a sheep can be dangled? He watches the Eagle depart, the muscle jumping in his cheek, then lifts a hand to rub it away and starts the limping journey back to his friends. Many explanations will be needed, many conflicting fears aired ...
