Elendor
Woodcutting
Gidon and Brev debate accusations and destinations
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Anduin Village
Game Date: November 3047
IC Time: Morning
Weather: Clear
Description: Village Crossroads
You stand at the crossroads of the Beorning township that is situated in this part of Middle-Earth. To the east lies the forest of Mirkwood and all the wonders that lurk within. To the west lies the mighty Anduin River and beyond the soaring peaks of the Misty Mountains jut skyward.
The air is fresh and the breeze is cool here at the Village Crossroads. The Massive Oak tree tends to obscure the stars and moon from shining down, but many lanterns sparkle and provide ample light to see by. On one corner of the crossroads lies the Great Bear Inn. Sounds of revelry can be heard emanating from within, and the warm glow seen through it's windows is very enticing. Opposite the Inn can be found the stables. A lantern hangs upon it's door, suggesting that it is still open, despite the onset of darkness. As you gaze to both the north and the south, you can see that much more of the town lies beyond where you stand at this moment.
The sky is clear. The autumn air is warm around you. The moon is not visible.
Obvious exits:
Northeast leads to Stables.
Southeast leads to Great Bear Inn - Entrance Hall.
South leads to Southern Village.
North leads to Northern Village.
East leads to Anduin Road, East of Village.
West leads to Anduin East Bank.
Real time is: Wed Sep 02 14:32:49 2009 - Weather in the Beorning realm is: CLEAR
Elendor time is: Morning on Mersday of Autumn - November 4, 3047
It's a cold, crisp November morning and the frost lies still in nooks and hollows, glittering white in the clear air. The rhythmic sound of axe against wood breaks the stillness, and on going round to the far side of the Great Bear Inn one would find Brev, busily engaged in splitting logs for firewood.
The Dunlending has cast his cloak aside, revealing that one thing about his attire has recently changed: instead of the red tunic he'd been wearing around the Village for these past few weeks (in token of its peace?), he is back in his old leather jerkin. He is neither heavy-built nor highly muscled, but skill and persistence make up for that the Inn's broad-bladed axe moves in a steady rhythm, and with each fall of its blade he utters a single guttural word. The current log splits, and is set deftly aside to be replaced with another. On he goes ...
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon is squatting on top of a jumbled pile of logs that wait to be chopped up - or perhaps, they are waiting to dry before being chopped up next year. He is scowling, and his eyes are nearly black.
The axe-blade continues its biting work, and Brev his uttered words, which have the cadence of counting. A few more strokes and this log, too, is cracked in two, if rather less neatly. He grunts and prises it apart, then sets down the axe so that he can swipe one hand across his forehead, pushing lank curls out of his eyes. It is at that point that he catches sight of Gidon. "Didn't see you there. All right?" he asks the lad then, "If looks could kill, I'd be long gone. What is it, eh?"
[Nob(#16122)] The boy lifts smoldering eyes from where he is glowering at the axe to Brev's face. "He said you were treacherous," he says angrily. He is evidently one to hold a grudge, carrying it around with him and brooding over it.
Brev quirks a brow. "Not to them. Nor to you. And, by Kiern, not to Carac. Which is all that matters." Rather short of a flat denial.
[Nob(#16122)] "'Course you wasn't! An' he said it anyways! An' that other... whatever it meant," he adds. "I told him you wouldn't never do nothing like that, an' he wouldn't even /listen/!" It isn't clear which offense is worse the insult to Brev or the ignoring of Gidon's own attempts at sticking up for a friend.
Brev snorts, and the rather odd twist to his lips smooths away. It is the last word he picks up on. "You mean the big Beorning? Rather doubt he's customed to listen to anybody. Spends too much time ordering others around." He stretches, and then he shrugs. "Well, I'm not pledged to the likes of him, thank Kiern. And I've no wish to spend a winter as a slave. Heard of anywhere else that might be a bit more hospitable?"
[Nob(#16122)] "Huh? No, him - that elf with the hair." The boy broods a while longer, only half-hearing Brev's conversation. But when the last words sink in, he lifts his head and the anger ebbs away - or at least sinks into the background. "Da were talkin' 'bout going somewheres," he says slowly. "Lookin' more for my mum's folk. East maybe?" He looks over his shoulder as if the woods around them might open up and magically show him the way. And when he looks back, there is a frown on his face again, though it is not one of fury this time. "Din't you say," he asks, "Something 'bout her bein' your kin? Or something," he adds hastily.
At the mention of the Elf Brev scowls. "Carac says they're not to be trusted - Elves, that is. Reckon in most cases he's right. Don't think we - Men, that is - matter to them very much."
He listens to the rest of the words without comment, though he sighs softly. "Hope you and your Da have a good journey," he offers dully, then pushes on to answer Gidon's final question. "I just said that you look like us - like my folk, folk of Dunland. And your Da not so much. Figured maybe your Ma was from our part of the world, she'd hardly be the first to leave. Nor the last." Does he include himself in that category?
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks down, fiddling with a piece of bark. "You.. could come too," he offers hesitantly. "Y'din't want t'stay here anyhows..." As he listens, he looks up, slowly - until he is watching Brev intently, that same little thoughtful frown knitting his dark eyebrows close. "If she done," he asks, "Come from where you did, could we find 'em?"
It is the final query that Brev answers first. "Find who? Your Ma's kin? Depends on what information you have about them." For a moment his bright gaze is merely interested then it dims and he shakes his head. "Your Da wouldn't welcome my company. He wants me gone. Figure-" he halts his speech so that he can cross to the pile of seasoned logs and seek another ready for splitting, "figure I did something he didn't. Maybe it's shamed him." His lips twist downwards.
[Nob(#16122)] A bit of hope, eager and bright, begins to dawn on Gidon's face, and then is snuffed out. He looks down at the wood pile, intensely interested in his bit of twig, and nods silently. And there he sits, evidently content merely to be in Brev's presence, while the man continues his chopping.
You stand at the crossroads of the Beorning township that is situated in this part of Middle-Earth. To the east lies the forest of Mirkwood and all the wonders that lurk within. To the west lies the mighty Anduin River and beyond the soaring peaks of the Misty Mountains jut skyward.
The air is fresh and the breeze is cool here at the Village Crossroads. The Massive Oak tree tends to obscure the stars and moon from shining down, but many lanterns sparkle and provide ample light to see by. On one corner of the crossroads lies the Great Bear Inn. Sounds of revelry can be heard emanating from within, and the warm glow seen through it's windows is very enticing. Opposite the Inn can be found the stables. A lantern hangs upon it's door, suggesting that it is still open, despite the onset of darkness. As you gaze to both the north and the south, you can see that much more of the town lies beyond where you stand at this moment.
The sky is clear. The autumn air is warm around you. The moon is not visible.
Obvious exits:
Northeast leads to Stables.
Southeast leads to Great Bear Inn - Entrance Hall.
South leads to Southern Village.
North leads to Northern Village.
East leads to Anduin Road, East of Village.
West leads to Anduin East Bank.
Real time is: Wed Sep 02 14:32:49 2009 - Weather in the Beorning realm is: CLEAR
Elendor time is: Morning on Mersday of Autumn - November 4, 3047
It's a cold, crisp November morning and the frost lies still in nooks and hollows, glittering white in the clear air. The rhythmic sound of axe against wood breaks the stillness, and on going round to the far side of the Great Bear Inn one would find Brev, busily engaged in splitting logs for firewood.
The Dunlending has cast his cloak aside, revealing that one thing about his attire has recently changed: instead of the red tunic he'd been wearing around the Village for these past few weeks (in token of its peace?), he is back in his old leather jerkin. He is neither heavy-built nor highly muscled, but skill and persistence make up for that the Inn's broad-bladed axe moves in a steady rhythm, and with each fall of its blade he utters a single guttural word. The current log splits, and is set deftly aside to be replaced with another. On he goes ...
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon is squatting on top of a jumbled pile of logs that wait to be chopped up - or perhaps, they are waiting to dry before being chopped up next year. He is scowling, and his eyes are nearly black.
The axe-blade continues its biting work, and Brev his uttered words, which have the cadence of counting. A few more strokes and this log, too, is cracked in two, if rather less neatly. He grunts and prises it apart, then sets down the axe so that he can swipe one hand across his forehead, pushing lank curls out of his eyes. It is at that point that he catches sight of Gidon. "Didn't see you there. All right?" he asks the lad then, "If looks could kill, I'd be long gone. What is it, eh?"
[Nob(#16122)] The boy lifts smoldering eyes from where he is glowering at the axe to Brev's face. "He said you were treacherous," he says angrily. He is evidently one to hold a grudge, carrying it around with him and brooding over it.
Brev quirks a brow. "Not to them. Nor to you. And, by Kiern, not to Carac. Which is all that matters." Rather short of a flat denial.
[Nob(#16122)] "'Course you wasn't! An' he said it anyways! An' that other... whatever it meant," he adds. "I told him you wouldn't never do nothing like that, an' he wouldn't even /listen/!" It isn't clear which offense is worse the insult to Brev or the ignoring of Gidon's own attempts at sticking up for a friend.
Brev snorts, and the rather odd twist to his lips smooths away. It is the last word he picks up on. "You mean the big Beorning? Rather doubt he's customed to listen to anybody. Spends too much time ordering others around." He stretches, and then he shrugs. "Well, I'm not pledged to the likes of him, thank Kiern. And I've no wish to spend a winter as a slave. Heard of anywhere else that might be a bit more hospitable?"
[Nob(#16122)] "Huh? No, him - that elf with the hair." The boy broods a while longer, only half-hearing Brev's conversation. But when the last words sink in, he lifts his head and the anger ebbs away - or at least sinks into the background. "Da were talkin' 'bout going somewheres," he says slowly. "Lookin' more for my mum's folk. East maybe?" He looks over his shoulder as if the woods around them might open up and magically show him the way. And when he looks back, there is a frown on his face again, though it is not one of fury this time. "Din't you say," he asks, "Something 'bout her bein' your kin? Or something," he adds hastily.
At the mention of the Elf Brev scowls. "Carac says they're not to be trusted - Elves, that is. Reckon in most cases he's right. Don't think we - Men, that is - matter to them very much."
He listens to the rest of the words without comment, though he sighs softly. "Hope you and your Da have a good journey," he offers dully, then pushes on to answer Gidon's final question. "I just said that you look like us - like my folk, folk of Dunland. And your Da not so much. Figured maybe your Ma was from our part of the world, she'd hardly be the first to leave. Nor the last." Does he include himself in that category?
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks down, fiddling with a piece of bark. "You.. could come too," he offers hesitantly. "Y'din't want t'stay here anyhows..." As he listens, he looks up, slowly - until he is watching Brev intently, that same little thoughtful frown knitting his dark eyebrows close. "If she done," he asks, "Come from where you did, could we find 'em?"
It is the final query that Brev answers first. "Find who? Your Ma's kin? Depends on what information you have about them." For a moment his bright gaze is merely interested then it dims and he shakes his head. "Your Da wouldn't welcome my company. He wants me gone. Figure-" he halts his speech so that he can cross to the pile of seasoned logs and seek another ready for splitting, "figure I did something he didn't. Maybe it's shamed him." His lips twist downwards.
[Nob(#16122)] A bit of hope, eager and bright, begins to dawn on Gidon's face, and then is snuffed out. He looks down at the wood pile, intensely interested in his bit of twig, and nods silently. And there he sits, evidently content merely to be in Brev's presence, while the man continues his chopping.
Players: Brev, Gidon
Located in: Dunlending | Breefolk
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