In Beorning, Land of Big Men

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.

Sunlight streams down upon the crossroads, although the immense Oak Tree that is situated in the centre casts lengthy shadows across the area. During the daylight hours much activity can be seen as people bustle about their duties. The Great Bear Inn is situated on one corner of the crossroads and as always, it is open for business. Opposite the Inn are the stables where one may keep their steeds and know that they are in safe hands. 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.

A little snow has fallen, and frozen to the ground in the night, and this morning, all is covered by a frosting of white. It isn't thick, and with the warmth of the sun, will melt soon - but winter is coming. The dwarves mutter to themselves and look at the sky and argue about the distance to Erebor and the weather and possibly they will decide to remain here for the winter. Several have pointed out the trading possibilities, while a few others hold out for pressing on as quickly as may be.

But Gidon is more interested in other matters. Snow still has the capability of delighting his boyish heart - when it is not wholly fixed on something else. And as he comes back down the street towards where the dwarves have set up their camp, he walks with a quick, light step - but looks a little dejected.

[Brev(#30997)] Brev, absolved of all further responsibility for patching up the cracked wagon-wheel (which has been trundled up to the blacksmith's to wait until a wheelwright can get round to making a replacement) is currently sorting through the contents of his pack. His dun cloak is spread out on the ground before him, and across it are scattered an odd array: carpenter's tools, a dirty red tunic, a few wizened roots and a couple of leather bags, plus a tiny stoppered metal flask.

At the sound of Gidon's steps he looks up, and observes the boy in silence a while. Eventually he asks, "Nothing yet? I've not heard anything, but I reckon they don't like my sort. Folk keep giving me queer looks." He shrugs one leather-clad shoulder and gives the lad a lopsided grin.

The boy shakes his head. "Somebody said they maybe seen him - only they never r'member where, an' he ain't nowhere's I been." He sounds philosophical, though his voice vibrates with a queer tension. "Maybe out huntin, or summat." He doesn't seem to want to say much, but squats down beside the man and looks at the assortment of stuff. "What're you doing?"

[Brev(#30997)] Brev snorts. "If they were as friendly to him as they were to us ..." He leaves the rest of his thought unsaid. "That first big fellow, the one built like a tree-trunk, was spoiling for a fight. Then he decided I was only a lad and mellowed a bit. Must remember to keep looking young and helpless when he's around." His mouth twitches.

"And I'm repacking. Now we're in a town again, the Dorves don't want other folk's things cluttering up their wagons. Not that I've got much to trade. There's those bowls and cups I made ... You got anything?"

The thought of Brev being young and helpless brings a swift, brief smile to Gidon's face. The next minute, there is a small frown pulling his eyebrows together, and he gets up silently, and goes to fetch his own small pack from the corner of the wagon where it has resided all this long trip. 

Back, he fumbles with the opening, then begins to look through the contents. "Ain't much," he says at last. "Some stuff I picked, looked like it might be good for something." He reaches his hand in and pulls out a small leather roll. Setting it on the ground and unfolding it, reveals a handful of dried twiggy looking plants, something a bit more feathery, and a chalky looking rock. It is this that he reaches for. "See?" He drags it along the leather, leaving behind a vivid orange mark. 

Brev's bowls receive a second look, one of interest. "You made them? Could I do it?"

[Brev(#30997)] Brev takes the opportunity of Gidon's brief absence to start slipping some of the little bags back into his pack. He has the small flask in his hand when the lad returns he looks up and hastily tucks it into a front pocket and pushes down a flap over it. "Stuff you picked? If it doesn't grow here, you could try telling them it's some rare remedy. Always supposing we can get that Colby fellow to play along with it ..." He watches the orange rock make its mark, and frowns thoughtfully. "Odd stuff, that. Not iron, is it? Though I've never seen it quite so soft - hmm." Regarding the rock, he quite forgets (or perhaps rather neglects) to answer Gidon's final query.

Gidon is not quite so diffident as he has been in the past - at least not with Brev. "Would you teach me?" he persists. "T'make bowls like them?" He reaches to touch the wood with his fingers, then looks up, frowning, hand suspended in air. "But that ain't true," he protests. "Leastwise, I don' think it is. I'll ask him. They looked like stuff as grows back t'home, maybe it's the same." Absently, he brushes the chalky mark from the leather - he can use his fingers well enough, though his grip isn't what it should be and he can't reach his arm out very far. "I don' think it's iron," he says doubtfully. "But it makes this sort of mark on most everything. Ought to be good for /something/, don' you think?"

[Brev(#30997)] Gidon's initial query brings Brev's gaze back to the lad, and he regards him steadily, saying nothing for a little while. Eventually he ventures, "Aye, I'll teach you." He even backs it up with a grin ... but then the reason for his reticence becomes apparent. "You'll need someone to rough out the shapes for you with axe or chisel," his gaze lingers on the Breelad's left arm. "But the rest, the fine work, I figure you'd manage just fine."

Seizing on the diversion of the mysterious 'rock', he gestures to it and suggests, "Try selling it as a dye, then. And as for the rest of the stuff - never know, they /could/ be remedies. Saffron uses twigs like that to dull pain. Strong stuff, messes the head up." The grin that had been tugging at his mouth fades, as he adds, flatly, "Carac and the rest didn't come this way."

[Mobeorn(#22365)] 

 Mobeorn's loud footsteps come crunching along the ground as the shapeshifter passes through the crossroads. He changes direction and heads for the two Dunlendings.

"Oh." The boy's voice is expressionless, and he looks away, staring blankly down the frosty road. Then, gathering himself, he turns back to nod. "Aye. Could be a dye, I reckon..." He tries to force himself to sound enthusiastic, but he is as glad for a diversion as Brev was, when Mobeorn comes towards them. Brev's last words bring his eyes back to the dunlending man. "Oh," he says again - an entirely different word now. "Where'd they have gone? I din't think there was no other roads."

[Brev(#30997)] Brev does not look up at the sound of footsteps. Instead he responds to Gidon, mouth twisted down. "Figure they must have been the ones that White Hand fellow saw returning to Bree. Damn, I need to speak to him. What made Carac turn back?"

Words ended, he looks up to see the approaching Beorning man. Quietly, he murmurs to the lad, "That's Mobeorn. Not too friendly. Seems to be some high-up, guess we're meant to bow and scrape."

[Mobeorn(#22365)] 

Not-so-nice Mobeorn now comes within speaking distance of the pair. "Awfully cold to be sitting out on the hard ground doing that," he says. "There's taverns, though I suppose you two wouldn't have the coin for it." 

Gidon blinks at Brev, and then Mobeorn is looming over him. The boy gapes up at him for a second and then scrambles to his feet. He is nearly as graceful as ever now, though perhaps a discerning person might notice he doesn't use his left arm to help him. He shakes his head silently at Mobeorn's implied question: he has no coin.

[Brev(#30997)] "Good morning," is Brev's affable-sounding response - he even twists his lips into a smile as the large Beorning approaches them. He pulls his half-filled pack shut though, as though he did not want prying eyes to look within. "Is there a warmer place to stay, then? We've little enough coin - don't mind working while I'm here, though." He shrugs, and rises to stand beside Gidon in an easy motion with no hurry about it.

[Mobeorn(#22365)] 

"Two taverns...there's the Great Bear Inn. That's better suited to you, I think," Mobeorn says, gesturing in that direction. "And there's wood to be split for the tavern fires. I'm sure you could earn your keep doing that."

[Brev(#30997)] Brev nods casually. "Shouldn't have any problem with that." His mouth quirks. "Th-"

Whatever the man's intentions, they are curtailed when one of the Dwarves hails him, gesturing toward a covered wagon. "Huh?" is the Dunlending's initial response then, with an apologetic look toward Gidon, he moves away to discuss whatever it is, no longer part of the conversation (though he does maintain a careful watch over his shoulder to make sure no violence takes place).

Gidon listens, content to let Brev carry on the conversation, until the Dunlending moves away. And then the boy looks a bit more uncomfortable. He shifts his feet and finally blurts out, "Anything other'n wood chopping?" Hard on the heels of the first question comes a second, "You - ain't seen a man here-abouts? Looks like me. Name of Owain, folks said he maybe was here....?" He watches Mobeorn with a mixture of eagerness and apprehension.

[Mobeorn(#22365)] 

"He working for the dwarves, then? That how you two got them to agree to let you travel with them?" Mobeorn asks, watching Brev retreat. "So it was your father?" He looks carefully at Gidon, then shakes his head. "I haven't, but ask around the tavern. They might have. You can wash dishes in the inn. Carry in trays of dirty dishes to the kitchen. Peel vegetables. Wipe tables. Depends what the innkeep will let you do, but there's no harm in asking."

A flash of repugnance crosses the boy's face. Washing dishes. Ugh. But he nods, resignedly he can't chop wood one-handed, after all. "Aye," he says, "My Da." And his eyes go after Brev as well. "They said we could come, he can fight an' ..." Briefly, it seems he is about to say something else, but he ends with, " ... an' do carpentery things." There is a pause, and then Gidon asks, "Be there folk about t'buy things? I got this rock for dye an' some herbs an' th'like." He holds out the rock in the palm of his left hand, but doesn't lift it much more than the level of his own waist.

[Mobeorn(#22365)] 

"By the bear, what's that? Oddest color rock I've seen," Mobeorn says, staring briefly at it. He waves vaguely toward the village. "Someone might buy it off of you. Though we're not about dressing fancy here, so I don't know. And it's often trade, not coin, too. So..what else can he do?"

"Me too," says Gidon, and a little enthusiasm fires his voice. "See, it makes a mark like that too." He rubs the rock along the front of his cloak, a little awkwardly. An orange streak is left behind. "Who, Brev?" Automatically, Gidon looks over his shoulder again. "Most anything," he tells the gigantic man, proudly. "He makes these bowls, an' cups - wooden ones."

[Mobeorn(#22365)] 

"Interesting," Mobeorn says as he stares at the rock. "Might try talking to our loremasters and see if they want that bit of rock. Might use it for writing, not dying, but...who knows. Wooden cups and bowls...well. he might be ablet o sell a few of those here."

The boy's head snaps back. "Writing?" he asks, as if it is an unfamiliar word. He looks at the rock in his hand as if he hasn't seen it before, "I never thought of that... reckon I will." A swift shy smile transforms his face. "Thankee." Then, cautiously, for fear this large man will be as angry as Brev has said he was, he asks, "Folk say you don' hunt here? How - what d'you eat?"

[Mobeorn(#22365)] 

"Oh...we hunt all right. Goblins and the enemy and its servants. Just don't eat them," Mobeorn grins. "But animals...." he growls a warning. "Honey. Cheese. Bread. Butter. Milk. Fish."

Gidon takes an involuntary step back at that growl, and his face pales a little. "I ain't.." he says, starts to say, then brightens. "I c'n fish," he says with a sudden pleasure in his abilities.

[Mobeorn(#22365)] 

"Fishing is good," Mobeorn says, immediately getting friendlier as the boy doesn't contest the no hunting prohibition. "See what you can get by the fishing hole--currents are safer than in the river. You're likely to drown there. The inn or tavern will pay you for fresh fish. Not much, but they'll pay at least."

The boy nods. "Be it near?" he asks. And then, glancing up and saying tentatively, "How come? I mean, why don' you hunt things? I won't," he adds hastily, in case this huge man decides he is arguing. "I just - I never met no one what din't hunt, never."

[Mobeorn(#22365)] 

"Not far, just that way through the village," Mobeorn says, pointing north. "As for hunting..." He frowns and his tone is darker. "We don't hunt." He emphasizes each word, on the border of getting antgry again. "Don't ask questions about things that are none of your business."

Gidon turns to look where Mobeorn has pointed, and then turns white at the man's tone and words. Far whiter than need be, surely - the man hasn't attacked him or even threatened to - and with one swift glance upwards, eyes darting off before they can meet the Beorning's, the boy edges away several steps before turning and hurrying towards the dwarven caravan. He glances back over his shoulder once possibly to check to see if he is being followed by an enraged murderer. Who knows.

Mobeorn chuckles, pleased with the reaction from the boy. Then he turns and heads south.

[Brev(#30997)] Whatever Brev and the dwarf have been discussing, it is now at an end, for the latter turns and hurries away in the direction of the Great Bear Inn, likely to meet some comrade or other. Brev himself spins round to face Gidon, a grin on his face. At the sight of the lad hurrying toward him, one brow lifts in enquiry.

Gidon looks over his shoulder one more time - Mobeorn is striding away - and he looks back, relief etching itself over his face as he nears Brev. But he says nothing of what has made his face white, the color ebbing back into it now, only, "He said we could fish. An' maybe some folk would want this rock for writing." A pause. "We going t'stay at that inn, he said?"

[Brev(#30997)] Brev looks the lad over, saying nothing until Gidon has finished speaking. Only then does the man ask, frowning, "You all right? Look like you've seen a ghost." He peers at the lad a little longer, then shrugs. "As to the fishing - that's something. Was wondering if we'd starve." He pulls his mouth back in a half-grin and adds, "You might have to teach me there, I never did have the knack of guddling trout."

The question of inns is left for future conversation.

Nervously, Gidon looks around again - just to be sure. But Mobeorn is nothing more than a distant shadow, fast disappearing. He shakes his head. "M'fine." A pause and then the boy smiles. "I c'n fish. Done it lots. Y'can use a spear, even, only I never done it that way. Tickle 'em or drop a hook."

[Brev(#30997)] "A spear?" Brev glances round for his, which lies leather-wrapped with the rest of his belongings, then shakes his head dubiously. "If you say so. And we'll try the Inn. Might even have some money to pay for it. Yon fellow," he jerks his head in the direction the dwarf departed, "wanted a spot of work done."

Noting Gidon looking over his shoulder again, he queries, "He didn't threaten you?"

"Said they might pay for fish. At th'inn." Gidon nods vigorously. "Da said it. I never done, but I seen him once." The boy smiles then, at the mention of more money. "D'ruther sell fish than wash dishes," he says, wrinkling up his nose with distaste. And then, he flushes. "No... just said t'mind m'own business. He - just, he's so big," he tries to explain, and flushes again at the limp-sounding excuse. "Sounded mad," he adds, weakly.

[Brev(#30997)] Brev smirks at those first words. "Paying us to bring them their own fish? Sounds a fine idea." The flush is watched without comment, but when the lad has finished talking Brev nods. "Aye, big he is. Reckon he'd be a match for even Carac." Which, knowing Brev's unshakeable faith in the latter, is elevating the stranger-Beorning to godlike status. "Doubt things other than blades would have much effect on him, either. Let's just hope we don't rile him /too/ much, eh?"

Gidon relaxes as he isn't mocked for his fear. And his answering grin is wider than it might be otherwise. "Aye," he says. "Fishin', it's fun, too." Once more he looks behind him, but without the nervousness of a moment before. "I don' plan t'make him mad, believe me!" he says. "Bigger'n me by twice over!" He looks at Brev then. "Were asking about you," he says. "Wanted t'know what do you do. I said what you tol' me: carpentering an' fightin'. An' makin' them bowls."

[Brev(#30997)] "About me?" One brow quirks up. "Hardly his business, is it? And it's a fair enough assessment - except for the fighting. Generally try to talk my way out of trouble first, this," he rests his hand on his dagger-hip, "is for when things don't work out. So ... what does he make of us?" By the looks of it, Brev had perhaps been starting to say something else and changed his mind.

Gidon looks curiously at the man, but answers readily enough. "Never said. Only that you heard, 'bout the Inn." Tentatively, he suggests, "Y'want t'go an' look at it? Where there's fish is up yonder," he nods towards the north. "Said th'river weren't safe, but there's a pond or some such."

[Brev(#30997)] Brev follows the direction of Gidon's nod. "Might as well. Give me time to stow my gear." He moves back over to his part-filled pack, carefully sets in the bowls he'd left out earlier and stuffs his red tunic in on top, then glances toward the covered Dwarven wagon, and his mouth twitches. "They can hardly object to a worker storing his tools, eh?"

Only when he's done that does he ask the question that perhaps has been there, unspoken, through the whole conversation. "Did the big fellow have news yet of your Da?"

The boy waits, looking around the streets with interest. It is like, and yet unlike, his home. His head comes around at the question, but he only shakes his head. "Said t'ask in th'taverns." He waits a minute and then says slowly, "If there ain't no huntin' here... 'Less someone needed a guide or...?" His eyes search Brev's face and he adds, with a little difficulty, "Y'keep takin' me places an' he ain't there. Maybe... maybe you're wantin' t'go find Carac."

[Brev(#30997)] A muscle starts jumping in Brev's cheek at some point during Gidon's speech. He rubs at it, irritably, with the hand not holding his leather-wrapped spear - for some reason that was not left with his other gear in the wagon. One might wonder whether he is entirely trusting of this land of peaceful strangers. He sighs. "Maybe I am. And maybe ... ach. Can't get back over the Mountains with winter setting in, anyway." His gaze flits eastward and he pulls it back, almost guiltily.

A little longer he walks in silence, then adds, "Have you thought what you'll do if you find your Da? And if you don't?"

"Could wait for you," Gidon offers. He looks around the small town. "I c'n fish..." Perhaps he is unaware of how much he has revealed in his simple conviction that Brev would indeed come back for him. 

He looks sideways at the man as they walk. "I don' know," he says honestly. "I been thinking, but... I don' know. I..." he stops helplessly. "I got to see him," he ends at last.

[Brev(#30997)] Brev shakes his head impatiently, sending dark curls straying into his eyes. He blinks, then says roughly, "Life doesn't work that way. Someone goes off, and you never see them again. Had it happen often enough before." His mouth has a sour twist to it. "Might as well stick together while we can. Anyway ... lets see what the next week or two brings, eh?"

By this point they've reached the fishing hole, and Brev glances around it curiously. "Suppose this is that pool of theirs. Will it do?"

Gidon nods, and his eyes are relieved. Happily, he examines the pond, nodding. "Reckon there's fish in there," he says, looking at the surface and the deep holes and the warmer shallows where bugs dart. He smiles at Brev. "We'll catch 'em."