The Thief Caught?

============== Lord of the Rings Calendar ==============
IC time is:    Late Night < About 3:19 AM >
IC day is:     Wednesday
IC date is:    February 23
Moon phase:    Waxing Crescent
Earendil:      Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is:    Third Age 3049
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RL time:        Mon Feb 08 16:06:37 2010
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Highlands (Methedras) - Dunland <>

You stand in the foothills of the Misty Mountains with a view of the lands about you. The road continues to the northeast and southwest away to the far west you can dimly make out the line of another, broader, road. To the east, the dark bulk of the Misty Mountains looms against the night sky, their snow-covered peaks glittering when moonlight falls on them. The tallest of the spire is the Methedras in the southwest. Westwards a vast plain stretches out and vanishes into the horizon.

Contents:
Brev
Obvious exits:
 Southwest leads to Small Village - Dunland <>.
 Uphill leads to Fangorn Forest.
 Northwest leads to Highlands - Dunland <>.

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
The flat gray blanket of night envelopes the foothills of the Hithaeglir, and from their snow-tipped peaks that glint of moon-beams, a chilly breeze drifts downward over the land. Overhead the face of the moon is pale, and a few stars twinkle. Close at hand, the darkness of Fangorn the Great stretches ominously.

Amidst the highlands and boulders that adorn this area nigh the Mountains, there is propped a large tall shape that looms up from the hard frozen ground. It stands quite still, and only the faint gleam of bright eyes indicate that it is not a huge rock standing precariously toward the heavens.

[Brev(#30997)] Men move through the mountain foothills, and purposefully, with the air of a patrol - or perhaps it is a hunting party? Three on foot, garbed in plain green cloaks with simple leather or padded cloth jerkins beneath, each carrying a long spear. With them, though, is a rider, and this one is garbed differently altogether. The young, slight figure atop the grey mare is clad in ring-corselet and polished half-helm, with a bow across the knees and a quiver of arrows slung at the saddle.

Though they glance this way and that, they show no awareness of the rock-that-is-no-rock. The light is poor, and it is likely they seek naught but shelter till the morn comes. Suddenly the horse throws up her head and nickers softly.

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
A second horse there is in the immediate vacinity, but it does not nicker, nor move for that matter--the poor creature is lying upon the ground, underneath this oddly formed rock.

Suddenly, the curious rock moves, and the moonlight shifts to flash off gold and brown feathers as a wing is stretched in stiffness. The eyes of the eagle--for it is verily not a boulder--gleam through the darkness, and for a length Sulgirion watches in silent observance as the group of humans travels closer. Then, head still cocked so as to keep one eye upon them, the giant bird lowers its neck. A hooked beak opens, and busies itself with tearing a piece of meat from the dead horse that lies beneath one enormous talon.

[Brev(#30997)] The rider bends to soothe the grey mare, murmuring softly to it, whilst the others glance around for the source of alarm. One of them happens to be looking in the right direction to see that flash of brown-gold, though it is not recognised for what it is.
Something up yonder," he reports. "Some beast. I'll go-"
Ware," another cuts across. "Could be a mountain lion ..."

And then their debating is cut short, for the living horse has caught the scent of her fallen comrade as that great beak rends its flesh. She snorts and rears suddenly.

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
The cautious words of the Dunlendings are carried faintly over the distance, but the avian neither understands them, nor pays them any heed save that lone staring eye. Unconcernedly, the great mouth continues its work, and then rises as Sulgirion goes to swallow a piece of the limp horse's leg a sharp caw is given in satisfaction, ere the raptor takes a claw and uses it to plop the lifeless animal onto its opposite side with a loud thump over the frozen earth.

[Brev(#30997)] It is a mark of horsemanship that the slender rider is not unseated, though it is a struggle to retain control of the frightened mare. Knees and reins and voice all hold the mount steady, and eventually the mare drops back to earth, shivering. The rider snaps directions in a soft alto. "Alun - circle to the west, Duac the east. Meic, forward. Ready your spears." The men move off as indicated.

The rider pulls an arrow from the quiver, but does not yet set it to the bow, preoccupied with urging the horse forward. The animal takes one step, another ... and freezes at the sound of the harsh caw. Its rider is frozen in place also - difficult to discern thoughts when features are concealed beneath a helm, but the beardless chin is pale in the moonlight. Then, softly, "Perhaps this night will see Faol's losses avenged." Step by reluctant step the horse is made to approach the 'rock' until that feathered outline can be seen more clearly.

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
Unlike the sight of the Men, the eagle's gaze is not as hindered by the veil of night, and Sulgirion pauses at last as the small band splits in different directions. Slightly suspicious of land-dwellers by nature, the avian tilts his head to the other side in order to try and keep all of the humans within his eyesight. The equine meal below is forgotten for the time being.

Another screech rends the night, but something extremely odd and unsettling comes in between the wild-sounding squawks--Westron, spoken in the raspy accent of the creature's feathered race. The curved beak clacks open and shut much too stiff and slow to form the syllables, but nonetheless the Common Speech somehow rings forth. "Hark!" cries Sulgirion suddenly, fixing the scene with that piercing amber stare. "Who creeps yonder in the cover of shadows?" The glint of metal is not missed, and the eagle continues, "Lower your spears if you be friend, or beward if you be foe."

The sky-creature waits, watching silently once more.

[Brev(#30997)] The slender rider lets out a gasp as the feathered form is seen more clearly. The others, the footmen, show no such reaction - perhaps because they are veterans accustomed to hiding their dismay, perhaps because of the hold their leader exerts.

The effect of Sulgirion's speech is twofold. The arrow the rider had been holding falls from nerveless fingers, to hit the frozen earth with a soft clatter while the horse, sweating fiercely, tugs at bit and bridle, trying to turn aside and away.

And the foremost of the Dunlending men, the one known as Meic, looses his spear. Too late does the rider cry in their guttural tongue, words with the tone of command, "No, wait!"

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
The silver streak through the dark signals the flight of the spear-head, and that single pinpoint of light seems to rouse the giant bird into a jerk-like movement rooted to the spot, talons still digging into the earth, Sulgirion swerves his head sideways with the sort of unnerving speed that only winged animals can turn their necks. The hooked beak flashes open again, this time to clamp soundlessly back shut. Still quivering, the thrown spear halts in midair to rest now between the blackened mouth's hold. There is a sickening cracking noise as Sulgirion tightens the pressure, and the weapon breaks asunder, the two splintered ends of wood falling dully to the ground at the eagle's feet. And the wild-edged voice comes anew, though with added irritation.

"Foe, your spear-heralded greetings would name you to be!" the creature screeches, bronze brow furrowing angrily. "Can I not eat in peace here? Your people's spears have done their mark already." He flexes one wing, where a small spot still bears the signs of a spear wound.

[Brev(#30997)] After that stomach-churning display of agility there is utter silence, save for the rasping snorts of the frightened horse. Then two more spears glint in the moonlight, and the man who has lost his looks around frantically for anything he can use as a weapon - a stone, a dead branch ..."I said wait!" That sharp, angry alto comes again, clearly directed at the footman. "The sounds ... it is speech."

Order delivered, the rider is quiet a long while, leaning forward toward the neck of the grey mare to sooth the mount's fears. Then that slender figure is drawn upright and the rider speaks, in a Westron that is sing-song but perfectly clear. And almost, though not quite, without a tremor. "My men do not know the Outland tongue, Sky-Spirit. And you have stolen Faol property. It is right we seek restitution."

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
"Stolen?" the avian blinks, and again the great golden head turns to regard the speaker with a sharp scrutiny. "I saw no mark, or sign of ownership. Perhaps, had they been at the least fenced in, I would not have taken one." The remaining spears are spared a swift look. There comes a ripping sound as Sulgirion brings one of his talons to clench deeper into the dirt, rending gorges into the hard cold foothill land. But the bird moves naught more, awaiting the rider's next answer.

[Brev(#30997)] The spear-wielders continue to hold their weapons at the ready, but it appears the slim rider has the power of command over them, for they do not loose.

The rider's head tilts as the eagle rends the frozen ground, and gloved hands clench on the mare's bridle. It, poor beast, is shivering, torn between the urge to flee and the urge to obey the commands of its rider. Eventually, the sing-song Westron comes again. "Our horses run free, as their ancestors did on the green plains of the south. But they were guarded. Two beasts you have taken from us, Sky-Spirit. What will you give in return?" That question is uttered with all the arrogance of one accustomed to deference and obedience - even if the chin and cheeks visible beneath the concealing nose-guard of the helm are trembling slightly.

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
The tearing of the claw halts. There is a brief silence in which the raptor quirks one feathered brow, and dips his head to the dead horse he still holds underneath his other foot. "Two horses? I count but one in my grasp. One alone I took, I give you my word, Land-rider. A second I have not claimed--not now," Sulgirion gestures to the Dunlending leader's mare, "nor previously."

The black-tipped mouth clicks together in consideration. "You demand something in return, for one horse? Do your cooks likewise demand such from you after you have eaten of their food? Still," there is another break in speech, "this is a different case. Indeed I have claimed property without permission...what could I give you in atonement? I have not finished with this meal," he nudges the side of the killed animal. "You may take it if it suits you."

[Brev(#30997)] The rider's hands tighten on the bridle again in an unconscious gesture of possession. "No!" That single quiet word is enough to bring the men's attention away from the eagle to their own leader with an impatient gesture of the head, they are dismissed. "It is nothing. Watch, only."

To the mighty eagle, words of Westron are offered in response. "For everything there is a price. He who would eat the food must give in return - of goods, or skill, or service." There is a pause as the rider regards the carcass and swallows hard. Disgust is not entirely kept from the sing-song tones as the words continue. "A bloodied corpse is of no value to us. This one will sire no more foals, carry no more men ..." Anger rises, is swiftly choked back. "There is perhaps a thing you could give, Sky-Spirit."

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
The large amber eyes rove the scene, aware of all: spears, men, horse, the land and her darkness..."Name your price, then, for I listen," is the only offered response to the rider's utterings, and the eagle makes no comment on the hints of anger that the mounted Dunlending displays.

[Brev(#30997)] The rider nods. "It is this: that you fly above the bounds of Faol lands and report all that you see. Men, goblins ... both threaten us. No more horses you will take, nor sheep, nor cattle. The deer and the wild things are no man's." One mail-clad shoulder shifts, as though the speaker were attempting to shrug. "That is my bargain."

The horse is still tugging at the bit and reluctantly the slender rider, who has so far gone unnamed, lets her start to turn.

The men, watching, frown. "Should we not kill the beast now?" one demands urgently. "'Fore it does further damage."

[Sulgirion(#16643)]
"Very well," Sulgirion bobs his head in an avian nod, watching as the rider's horse starts its leave. "It is a fair exchange, I think. Your livestock I shall spare, and redirect my talons for the deer and creatures of the wild." The grip on the dead horse renews its firmness, and there is a huge blast of wind as the eagle moves to launch himself into the nighttime air. "As for the land and enemies, I will keep my sight downward. Nothing shall escape my eyes."

There is the heavy sound of wings pounding, and Sulgirion circles overhead once, letting out a farewell caw and tugging his kill with him. The avian shifts direction slightly, to head for a place further up in the foothills.

[Brev(#30997)] The men leap back as the monstrous bird rises, all thoughts of attack forgotten. The one who is now spearless is actually buffeted to the ground by the force of the blast, though his companions are luckier, sheltered as they are by a bush and a rock.

The mare whinnies and rears again, and for some time the rider is fully occupied in calming her. Only when the horse is at last still, and the feathered form out of sight, does the apparent leader respond to the footman's question - with a curt, snapped, "We cannot. And it will serve us better alive."
The dissenter shakes his head. "The Fian would've-"
"The Fian would do better to listen to his sister," the rider retorts swiftly then she lets her mare have its head and is gone in a clatter of stones. The footmen follow more slowly, watching the sky dubiously as they go.