Elendor
Arriving in Beorning lands
Ranger Lee arrives just in time to smooth things over when Brev meets his first Beorning
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Anduin West Bank, Top of the Cliff
Game Date: October 3047
IC Time: Evening/night
Weather: Rain
Description: Anduin West Bank, Top of the Cliff
The swirling waters of the Anduin River lie to the east, below a sheer rock cliff. The current is strong and the waters deep, but a wooden swinging bridge allows passage to a mighty rock some sixty feet high and more then one hundred feet in length and width. It offers shelter at the center of the river. To the west the massive peaks of the Misty Mountains jump up, close enough to be clear in vision. Stationed near the bridge is a small guardhouse, stone and wood in its structure, with lamps placed above the door and window. Northmen with longbows and axes man it constantly.
The night is full here, though the light from the stars and moon allows you to make out the dim shapes of the Carrock and the silvery lighted river. The lanterns in front of the guardhouse are lit, as well as a light coming from inside.
The rain continues to pour around you. The late night autumn air is warm and muggy around you. The moon is waning crescent.
Obvious exits:
Climb Down leads to Bottom of the Cliff.
Bridge leads to Bridge.
North leads to West Bank of Anduin, North of Carrock.
South leads to West Bank of Anduin, South of Carrock.
West leads to Anduin Valley - West of the Carrock.
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Sat Aug 22 16:14:36 2009
IC time is: Evening
IC date is: Sterday, Day 1 of October in the year 3047.
===============================================================================
Evening has fallen, and the sun has long since slipped down behind the jagged peaks of the Mountains to the west, casting the lands stretching out at their feet into deep shadow. Near to the place where the rolling waters of the Anduin are spanned by a single slim bridge an encampment squats, and those within it go about their business with occasional doubtful glances over their shoulder toward the west, fearful perhaps of what night may bring. Wagons have been drawn up in a circle with a fire at its centre, and the folk within this, or tending to the ponies nearby, are mainly dwarves. Others, Elven and human, linger on the fringes.
One wagon is separate from the rest, and this one lies half-empty, raised up with the aid of a flat-topped rock and a few handy logs. Before it piles of boxes and barrels are stacked, and an irritable-looking Dwarf paces up and down, muttering sourly. Beside it squats Brev with a hammer in his hand, squinting in the half-light an array of tools is scattered untidily beside his half-open pack. He seems to be trying to shore up a cracked wheel.
[Thulion(#28108)]
The travellers' fears, perhaps, do not go unfounded, though all but watchful Firstborn would be hard pressed to spy the figure which comes down out of the west. Having moved silently among the night-shadows, a tall, cloaked form looms suddenly out of the darkness at the edge of the camp, not far from young Brev, the flickering light of the fire casting eerie, twisting shadows about the the figure.
"Hail, travellers," comes a man's voice in greeting towards the other man, and the irritable dwarf. His cloak flutters as a hand moves beneath it, the the glint of eyes from within the cowl of his hood falling upon Brev.
Brev responds to the Dwarven mutterings without looking over his shoulder. "Kiern! It's hardly my fault, told you not to overload it. This should get you as far as that bridge of yours, after that you can find someone else to mend i-"
The quiet, sing-song Common breaks off abruptly as a new voice is heard. The Dunlending's initial reaction is to lay down the hammer and grope for a spear that is not there scowling, he sets his hand on his dagger instead and twists round, rising to his feet as he does. "Who speaks?" Suspicious eyes scan the newcomer.
The curt demand is contrasted by the Dwarf's calm, "A good evening to you. Would you be one of the Beornings?"
[Thulion(#28108)]
The man lifts a hand, holding it briefly palm-outward before reaching up to slip back his hood. "Nay," he answers first to the dwarf, though his gaze flickers only briefly from the human. "I am but a traveller like yourselves, also making for the land of the Beornings." A slow step forward eases the man a little more into the light, but also brings him a little closer to the twain dwarf and man. His gaze rests on Brev, and he speaks calmly, "We have met once before, some time ago on your travels. Is your young friend still with you? Does he recover well from his injuries?"
"Oh," is the Dwarf's unenthusiastic-sounding initial response. As the newcomer continues, however, he peers thoughtfully at him. At last he ventures, "Reckon I've seen you before. You can bide by the fire for the night, if you want. In the morning we'll be on our way south on the wagon route, we had an unexpected halt. Been a few of those this journey - we're plagued by ill-luck or ill workmanship." This last is said with a suspicious look in the Dunlending's direction.
Brev's dagger-hand twitches, but he pulls it back to rest at his side, seemingly quite casually. "He's a brave lad," he answers obliquely. "And resourceful. He copes." A brief pause, then he adds lightly, "What, no rabbits for our supper tonight?"
At the Dwarf's words something flashes in his eyes, but when he turns back it is with an affable smile. "Then it's good luck you came across me to fix things up."
[Thulion(#28108)]
There is a flicker of amusement across the Ranger's features, an almost soundless chuckle as he shakes his head. "No rabbits tonight, and not for some nights if you intend to ask passage across the river here." He motions with a hand towards the opposite bank. "The Beornings do not take kindly to those who hunt and kill creatures in and around their lands."
A pause as the man surveys the exchange between the other two, then looking to the dwarf he adds, "The road you took was a dangerous one - it is unwise to rely upon luck when attempting the High Pass. But some luck you do seem to have, for you have made it so far. Not many make it across the mountains without guidance and protection." A dark eyebrow arches as he looks between the two, his tone slightly curious.
It is full dark now, and the flickering fire at the centre of the circle of Dwarven wagons forms a welcome focal point for the eye. The reason for their halt can be discerned easily enough - the half-unloaded wagon propped up so that someone can mend its wheel (the tools nearby attest to that). By the wagon two persons stand: a bushy-bearded Dwarf and a swarthy-skinned human, and facing them is another traveller, this one tall and cloaked.
The Dwarf harrumphs at the Ranger's words. "Why, my folk have been crossing these Mountains to visit our cousins since before you were born, Master. These others came to us in need of a guide." He nods toward the Dunlending and falls silent.
Brev, for his part, is listening to the comments. "I'd heard the Beornans don't like hunters," he answers mildly. "No accounting for some folk, eh?" To the rest of the speech he volunteers one more piece of information. "Saw nary a goblin the whole journey. Reckon those Elves might have been some use after all. Figure the goblins are even more scared of them than I am." His mouth twists in a lopsided grin.
[Thulion(#28108)]
A slight fold at the waist if offered towards the dwarf, "You pardon, Master Dwarf. It would seem you have both had some good luck then that they found you for guidance, and that you found them to fix your cart wheels." One corner of the Ranger's lips pulls briefly in a wry smile. "Elves? Hmm. Indeed, such foul creatures seem to have about as much love for Elves as they do for the sun. But if not goblins, then what ills and ill-luck do you speak of?"
[Mobeorn(#22365)]
"More dwarves -again-?" A very human voices booms out before the speaker can be seen in the darkness outside of the firelight. Footsteps sound, crunching their way toward the small encampment, though the man seems to approach from the river, not the bridge.
The Dwarf, seemingly quite mollified, bows in return before giving answer to Thulion. "It was the very Mountains themselves! Our party was caught in a snow-slide, we lost two wagons as well as a good fighter." For the first time regret sounds in his tone, proving that Dwarvenkind are not completely without feelings.
Brev's mouth twitches slightly at the Ranger's remark, though he says naught - aloud anyway. He mutters something very softly under his breath in a tongue that is not Common the mutterings cease in an instant as the booming voice is heard. "Who's asking?" he calls out sharply, hand sliding toward his dagger again.
The sentries at the edge of the camp can be heard shifting at their posts, but none moves to stop the newcomer, who clearly is not regarded as threat.
[Thulion(#28108)]
The Ranger's head lifts at the booming, deep voice, but it is a relaxed smile which plays briefly on his features as he looks towards the river. A shake of his head settles his hood fully down, his features as clearly visible as firelight will allow. "Peace," he says quietly towards Brev. "He is no foe of ours indeed, he is one of the Beorning folk, if I am not mistaken."
[Mobeorn(#22365)]
The man, as he steps forward, gives his head a shake, curls of brown hair tossing out little droplets of water, his tunic dripping some water too, but he twists his body right and left to knock off some of that water as well. "I should ask, rather," Mobeorn says, stepping into the firelight, "who are you to walk into the lands of my kin and demand my name?" He stops, looking to the Ranger, squinting. "Do I know you?"
Brev tilts his head up to regard the newcomer with a measuring gaze, one brow lifting at the sight of the wet curls. At Thulion's reassurance he moves his hand away from his dagger - all of an inch or two. "A traveller," he answers carefully in singsong Common. "I don't know these lands, nor who lives there. How else'd I learn than asking?" The words are kept light and casual, but it is clear the man is tense and wary, for the leather jerkin he wears creaks slightly as he shifts position.
The Dwarf beside Brev scowls and opens his mouth as though to say something in turn, but at this point another Dwarf pushes past him to address the newcome man with a sweeping bow. "Brarin son of Tharin at your service," he declares. "We are come to visit our cousins in the Lonely Mountain, and crave hospitality of the Beornings." At his belt a well-filled purse hangs.
[Thulion(#28108)]
"Aye, though it has been some time since our last meeting," the Ranger answers Mobeorn. Stepping forward to bring himself further into the firelight, he offers a respectful bow to the Beorning, a genuine smile lighting his grey eyes. "We met upon the pass, and I once spent some days in your lands by the good will of Grimbeorn. Lee, am I. I come now once more, bearing news out of the west, and also seeking tidings of you and your kin, and how things fare in your lands."
[Mobeorn(#22365)]
"Since when do strangers get to demand things of those who live and toil in a land?" Mobeorn says, starting to get angry at Brev--the hair on the back of his neck standing up, if that could be seen or sensed. "A traveler, it is? No name? No business? The Laird will...." The beginning of the tirade ends when Brarin introduces himself. Mobeorn scoffs to Brev, but nods politely to Brarin. "That's more like it. And I am Mobeorn kin of Grimbeorn. You and your folk are welcome in our lands, of course, and we'll see that your animals are well cared for. But...this one you travel with..." he jerks his head toward Brev, "is he a cub or does he just have no manners?"
"Lee" gets his attention next. "Ah...I thought I recognized you. News? We're eager to hear it always."
Brev's gaze slips from the Beorning to the other unknown - but unthreatening - human and back. "Kiern!" he mutters at the angry query. "Didn't think it was me who was demanding." More mildly he continues, "The name's Brev, and I'm here to company a young lad seeking kin. I bring no harm to any who threatens neither him or me." He falls silent to let the others converse.
The Dwarf gives another, smaller bow at the words of welcome. "We'll bring the beasts and wagons round by the ford. Please convey our respects to the Laird, and our thanks for the easy passage. We have the usual .. ah, remuneration for those of my kin. The others will have to make their own arrangements," he gives a Brev a sidelong, faintly condescending, look.
The other Dwarf, the one who isn't blessed with flowery speech, stands scowling in the background.
[Thulion(#28108)]
So-called "Lee" releases a quiet sigh while the Dunlending speaks, his lips tightening a little, though grey eyes rest calmly on the young man. "These are the lands of his kin," comments the Ranger gently, with a slight tip of his head towards Mobeorn. "He has right to know who comes and goes here their names and business. It would aid your errand to remember that it is only by the hospitality of the Laird that you will be permitted to continue on your errand."
He turns then towards the Beorning, and offers another, somewhat apologetic bow. "I have met this one and the young lad he speaks of once before, Mobeorn. They are strangers to these lands, and know not the customs, nor to whom to pay respect. I do not believe they have any ill intent, though I cannot say that I know them well."
[Mobeorn(#22365)]
"Brev." Mobeorn's gaze goes from Ranger to Brev, and he frowns. "Brev of where, then? Lee speaks well of you, at least somewhat, so I will count that in your favor, but I warn you we do not tolerate trouble here. NOw...you say you have kin here? How did that come to pass?" To the dwarf, the large man nods. "I will, of course...as for renumeration, speak to the High Pass Captain. That's his business, not mine."
Brev's lips tighten just a fraction, but his answer is given levelly. "I come from west of the Mountains. A land some men call Dunland. And it's not I with the kin, though I'd thought - I'd hoped ..." The words trail off. "Was there not another group of folk like myself?" he queries, frowning slightly. There is a pause before he recollects what was asked of him. "Young Gidon's looking for his father. Heard he'd been seen in the land of the Beornans."
The Dwarf Brarin nods. "Of course," he responds to Mobeorn before a call from elsewhere in camp draws him away. Oddly, he takes the other Dwarf, the more taciturn one, with him. Could it be that Brev is not the only person here who lacks diplomacy?
[Thulion(#28108)]
The Ranger looks between the two as Brev answers the Beorning's questioning, his own features passive, yet studious of both men's expression. "I came across Gidon and Brev here on the road well on the other side of the mountains," he adds when there is a pause. "They have travelled very far on this errand, and suffered no small amount on their journey, and taken a great deal of risk in their search for the boy's father." His voice is quiet, and there is a sympathy there that is perhaps unexpected from this rough-looking wanderer.
[Mobeorn(#22365)]
"Beornings," Mobeorn corrects briskly. "But no, son," he says more gently, "I and the Laird know of all who cross here, and none like you have been seen. Maybe..." He glances to the Ranger, "further east? In Dale? What kind of business would have brought him traveling out this far?"
One of Brev's eyebrows tilts up at Thulion's speech. "You seem to know an awful lot about us for someone we've met once," he murmurs to the man, eyes glinting in what might be amusement.
Mobeorn's suggestions cause him to shake his head, sending dark curls straying across his face. "I can't speak for Gidon, and some things he may not know - or may not want to face. He's still little more than a lad, for all life's treated him harshly." The thought of 'east' is brushed aside maybe there are some things Brev also does not want to face. A moments silence, then he speaks again. "One thing, though, I can raise. Folk have spoken of a toll for passing yonder," he jerks his head westward.
[Thulion(#28108)]
"I have walked many of the same roads as you and your companions have," answers the Ranger to Brev with a slightly weary smile. "And I know that they are not easy paths to travel."
He dips his head once in a nod to Mobeorn's suggestion, and looks again to the Dunlending. "In Dale, I think, you would be more likely to find word of Gidon's father, if he came so far east. There is a town of many men there, and I have heard that news comes there by many roads, from such companies as your Dwarven friends here."
At Thulion's initial comment, Brev's shoulders lift in a shrug. "If you find a path that /is/ easy, do let me know," he answers lightly. The remainder of the speech, with its repetition of the word east and the name of 'Dale', causes Brev's jaw to tighten slightly, as though the thought were uncomfortable, but he does not elaborate.
At Mobeorn's response he lets his breath out suddenly - clearly the man had been bracing himself for an argument that did not happen. "My folk don't use gold," he tells the Beorning bluntly. "I was going to offer to work passage for myself and young Gidon - that acceptable? I'm a fair hand with carpentry. Speaking of which ..." he glances toward the discarded tools, and then across the dim pool of firelight to where a dark-bearded face is glowering at him, "I'd best be getting back to it."
[Thulion(#28108)]
A brow twitches, curiously, towards the Dunlending, though 'Lee' does not speak any questions that might pass through his mind. Instead he nods once, breaking his attention away from Brev, and he considers Mobeorn's news for a long moment, a frown creasing the Ranger's brow. "Thank you, Mobeorn," says he quietly. "I am glad that it has been resolved, at the least." These tidings, nonetheless, seem to weigh on the Dunedan for another long minute, before he shakes himself a little. "As for the news that I bring, rather I would speak that somewhere less... open," he murmurs in an undertone to the Beijabar.
[Mobeorn(#22365)]
Work for passage is fine, yes," Mobeorn says, then glances in the direction that Brev has looked. "Broken wagon? Surprised they got it over the Pass at all, if you ask me..."
Back to Lee now, Mobeorn giving the man a nod. "The Laird's house if you'd like. Afraid the High Pass Captain is out on business at the moment, though."
Brev favours Mobeorn with a small, tight smile. "Needs drive. Staying put didn't really seem an option."
Looking to Thulion, whose murmurings are noted even if not overheard, he offers casually, lips twitching slightly, "Don't mind me." He offers a nod to each man in turn and turns away.
Soon his head of dark curls is bent over his work - it's hard to see anything in this light - and the man gives every appearance of being unaware of the world around him. Being Brev, however, he is likely still listening to the conversations (mostly Dwarven) going on around him.
The swirling waters of the Anduin River lie to the east, below a sheer rock cliff. The current is strong and the waters deep, but a wooden swinging bridge allows passage to a mighty rock some sixty feet high and more then one hundred feet in length and width. It offers shelter at the center of the river. To the west the massive peaks of the Misty Mountains jump up, close enough to be clear in vision. Stationed near the bridge is a small guardhouse, stone and wood in its structure, with lamps placed above the door and window. Northmen with longbows and axes man it constantly.
The night is full here, though the light from the stars and moon allows you to make out the dim shapes of the Carrock and the silvery lighted river. The lanterns in front of the guardhouse are lit, as well as a light coming from inside.
The rain continues to pour around you. The late night autumn air is warm and muggy around you. The moon is waning crescent.
Obvious exits:
Climb Down leads to Bottom of the Cliff.
Bridge leads to Bridge.
North leads to West Bank of Anduin, North of Carrock.
South leads to West Bank of Anduin, South of Carrock.
West leads to Anduin Valley - West of the Carrock.
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Sat Aug 22 16:14:36 2009
IC time is: Evening
IC date is: Sterday, Day 1 of October in the year 3047.
===============================================================================
Evening has fallen, and the sun has long since slipped down behind the jagged peaks of the Mountains to the west, casting the lands stretching out at their feet into deep shadow. Near to the place where the rolling waters of the Anduin are spanned by a single slim bridge an encampment squats, and those within it go about their business with occasional doubtful glances over their shoulder toward the west, fearful perhaps of what night may bring. Wagons have been drawn up in a circle with a fire at its centre, and the folk within this, or tending to the ponies nearby, are mainly dwarves. Others, Elven and human, linger on the fringes.
One wagon is separate from the rest, and this one lies half-empty, raised up with the aid of a flat-topped rock and a few handy logs. Before it piles of boxes and barrels are stacked, and an irritable-looking Dwarf paces up and down, muttering sourly. Beside it squats Brev with a hammer in his hand, squinting in the half-light an array of tools is scattered untidily beside his half-open pack. He seems to be trying to shore up a cracked wheel.
[Thulion(#28108)]
The travellers' fears, perhaps, do not go unfounded, though all but watchful Firstborn would be hard pressed to spy the figure which comes down out of the west. Having moved silently among the night-shadows, a tall, cloaked form looms suddenly out of the darkness at the edge of the camp, not far from young Brev, the flickering light of the fire casting eerie, twisting shadows about the the figure.
"Hail, travellers," comes a man's voice in greeting towards the other man, and the irritable dwarf. His cloak flutters as a hand moves beneath it, the the glint of eyes from within the cowl of his hood falling upon Brev.
Brev responds to the Dwarven mutterings without looking over his shoulder. "Kiern! It's hardly my fault, told you not to overload it. This should get you as far as that bridge of yours, after that you can find someone else to mend i-"
The quiet, sing-song Common breaks off abruptly as a new voice is heard. The Dunlending's initial reaction is to lay down the hammer and grope for a spear that is not there scowling, he sets his hand on his dagger instead and twists round, rising to his feet as he does. "Who speaks?" Suspicious eyes scan the newcomer.
The curt demand is contrasted by the Dwarf's calm, "A good evening to you. Would you be one of the Beornings?"
[Thulion(#28108)]
The man lifts a hand, holding it briefly palm-outward before reaching up to slip back his hood. "Nay," he answers first to the dwarf, though his gaze flickers only briefly from the human. "I am but a traveller like yourselves, also making for the land of the Beornings." A slow step forward eases the man a little more into the light, but also brings him a little closer to the twain dwarf and man. His gaze rests on Brev, and he speaks calmly, "We have met once before, some time ago on your travels. Is your young friend still with you? Does he recover well from his injuries?"
"Oh," is the Dwarf's unenthusiastic-sounding initial response. As the newcomer continues, however, he peers thoughtfully at him. At last he ventures, "Reckon I've seen you before. You can bide by the fire for the night, if you want. In the morning we'll be on our way south on the wagon route, we had an unexpected halt. Been a few of those this journey - we're plagued by ill-luck or ill workmanship." This last is said with a suspicious look in the Dunlending's direction.
Brev's dagger-hand twitches, but he pulls it back to rest at his side, seemingly quite casually. "He's a brave lad," he answers obliquely. "And resourceful. He copes." A brief pause, then he adds lightly, "What, no rabbits for our supper tonight?"
At the Dwarf's words something flashes in his eyes, but when he turns back it is with an affable smile. "Then it's good luck you came across me to fix things up."
[Thulion(#28108)]
There is a flicker of amusement across the Ranger's features, an almost soundless chuckle as he shakes his head. "No rabbits tonight, and not for some nights if you intend to ask passage across the river here." He motions with a hand towards the opposite bank. "The Beornings do not take kindly to those who hunt and kill creatures in and around their lands."
A pause as the man surveys the exchange between the other two, then looking to the dwarf he adds, "The road you took was a dangerous one - it is unwise to rely upon luck when attempting the High Pass. But some luck you do seem to have, for you have made it so far. Not many make it across the mountains without guidance and protection." A dark eyebrow arches as he looks between the two, his tone slightly curious.
It is full dark now, and the flickering fire at the centre of the circle of Dwarven wagons forms a welcome focal point for the eye. The reason for their halt can be discerned easily enough - the half-unloaded wagon propped up so that someone can mend its wheel (the tools nearby attest to that). By the wagon two persons stand: a bushy-bearded Dwarf and a swarthy-skinned human, and facing them is another traveller, this one tall and cloaked.
The Dwarf harrumphs at the Ranger's words. "Why, my folk have been crossing these Mountains to visit our cousins since before you were born, Master. These others came to us in need of a guide." He nods toward the Dunlending and falls silent.
Brev, for his part, is listening to the comments. "I'd heard the Beornans don't like hunters," he answers mildly. "No accounting for some folk, eh?" To the rest of the speech he volunteers one more piece of information. "Saw nary a goblin the whole journey. Reckon those Elves might have been some use after all. Figure the goblins are even more scared of them than I am." His mouth twists in a lopsided grin.
[Thulion(#28108)]
A slight fold at the waist if offered towards the dwarf, "You pardon, Master Dwarf. It would seem you have both had some good luck then that they found you for guidance, and that you found them to fix your cart wheels." One corner of the Ranger's lips pulls briefly in a wry smile. "Elves? Hmm. Indeed, such foul creatures seem to have about as much love for Elves as they do for the sun. But if not goblins, then what ills and ill-luck do you speak of?"
[Mobeorn(#22365)]
"More dwarves -again-?" A very human voices booms out before the speaker can be seen in the darkness outside of the firelight. Footsteps sound, crunching their way toward the small encampment, though the man seems to approach from the river, not the bridge.
The Dwarf, seemingly quite mollified, bows in return before giving answer to Thulion. "It was the very Mountains themselves! Our party was caught in a snow-slide, we lost two wagons as well as a good fighter." For the first time regret sounds in his tone, proving that Dwarvenkind are not completely without feelings.
Brev's mouth twitches slightly at the Ranger's remark, though he says naught - aloud anyway. He mutters something very softly under his breath in a tongue that is not Common the mutterings cease in an instant as the booming voice is heard. "Who's asking?" he calls out sharply, hand sliding toward his dagger again.
The sentries at the edge of the camp can be heard shifting at their posts, but none moves to stop the newcomer, who clearly is not regarded as threat.
[Thulion(#28108)]
The Ranger's head lifts at the booming, deep voice, but it is a relaxed smile which plays briefly on his features as he looks towards the river. A shake of his head settles his hood fully down, his features as clearly visible as firelight will allow. "Peace," he says quietly towards Brev. "He is no foe of ours indeed, he is one of the Beorning folk, if I am not mistaken."
[Mobeorn(#22365)]
The man, as he steps forward, gives his head a shake, curls of brown hair tossing out little droplets of water, his tunic dripping some water too, but he twists his body right and left to knock off some of that water as well. "I should ask, rather," Mobeorn says, stepping into the firelight, "who are you to walk into the lands of my kin and demand my name?" He stops, looking to the Ranger, squinting. "Do I know you?"
Brev tilts his head up to regard the newcomer with a measuring gaze, one brow lifting at the sight of the wet curls. At Thulion's reassurance he moves his hand away from his dagger - all of an inch or two. "A traveller," he answers carefully in singsong Common. "I don't know these lands, nor who lives there. How else'd I learn than asking?" The words are kept light and casual, but it is clear the man is tense and wary, for the leather jerkin he wears creaks slightly as he shifts position.
The Dwarf beside Brev scowls and opens his mouth as though to say something in turn, but at this point another Dwarf pushes past him to address the newcome man with a sweeping bow. "Brarin son of Tharin at your service," he declares. "We are come to visit our cousins in the Lonely Mountain, and crave hospitality of the Beornings." At his belt a well-filled purse hangs.
[Thulion(#28108)]
"Aye, though it has been some time since our last meeting," the Ranger answers Mobeorn. Stepping forward to bring himself further into the firelight, he offers a respectful bow to the Beorning, a genuine smile lighting his grey eyes. "We met upon the pass, and I once spent some days in your lands by the good will of Grimbeorn. Lee, am I. I come now once more, bearing news out of the west, and also seeking tidings of you and your kin, and how things fare in your lands."
[Mobeorn(#22365)]
"Since when do strangers get to demand things of those who live and toil in a land?" Mobeorn says, starting to get angry at Brev--the hair on the back of his neck standing up, if that could be seen or sensed. "A traveler, it is? No name? No business? The Laird will...." The beginning of the tirade ends when Brarin introduces himself. Mobeorn scoffs to Brev, but nods politely to Brarin. "That's more like it. And I am Mobeorn kin of Grimbeorn. You and your folk are welcome in our lands, of course, and we'll see that your animals are well cared for. But...this one you travel with..." he jerks his head toward Brev, "is he a cub or does he just have no manners?"
"Lee" gets his attention next. "Ah...I thought I recognized you. News? We're eager to hear it always."
Brev's gaze slips from the Beorning to the other unknown - but unthreatening - human and back. "Kiern!" he mutters at the angry query. "Didn't think it was me who was demanding." More mildly he continues, "The name's Brev, and I'm here to company a young lad seeking kin. I bring no harm to any who threatens neither him or me." He falls silent to let the others converse.
The Dwarf gives another, smaller bow at the words of welcome. "We'll bring the beasts and wagons round by the ford. Please convey our respects to the Laird, and our thanks for the easy passage. We have the usual .. ah, remuneration for those of my kin. The others will have to make their own arrangements," he gives a Brev a sidelong, faintly condescending, look.
The other Dwarf, the one who isn't blessed with flowery speech, stands scowling in the background.
[Thulion(#28108)]
So-called "Lee" releases a quiet sigh while the Dunlending speaks, his lips tightening a little, though grey eyes rest calmly on the young man. "These are the lands of his kin," comments the Ranger gently, with a slight tip of his head towards Mobeorn. "He has right to know who comes and goes here their names and business. It would aid your errand to remember that it is only by the hospitality of the Laird that you will be permitted to continue on your errand."
He turns then towards the Beorning, and offers another, somewhat apologetic bow. "I have met this one and the young lad he speaks of once before, Mobeorn. They are strangers to these lands, and know not the customs, nor to whom to pay respect. I do not believe they have any ill intent, though I cannot say that I know them well."
[Mobeorn(#22365)]
"Brev." Mobeorn's gaze goes from Ranger to Brev, and he frowns. "Brev of where, then? Lee speaks well of you, at least somewhat, so I will count that in your favor, but I warn you we do not tolerate trouble here. NOw...you say you have kin here? How did that come to pass?" To the dwarf, the large man nods. "I will, of course...as for renumeration, speak to the High Pass Captain. That's his business, not mine."
Brev's lips tighten just a fraction, but his answer is given levelly. "I come from west of the Mountains. A land some men call Dunland. And it's not I with the kin, though I'd thought - I'd hoped ..." The words trail off. "Was there not another group of folk like myself?" he queries, frowning slightly. There is a pause before he recollects what was asked of him. "Young Gidon's looking for his father. Heard he'd been seen in the land of the Beornans."
The Dwarf Brarin nods. "Of course," he responds to Mobeorn before a call from elsewhere in camp draws him away. Oddly, he takes the other Dwarf, the more taciturn one, with him. Could it be that Brev is not the only person here who lacks diplomacy?
[Thulion(#28108)]
The Ranger looks between the two as Brev answers the Beorning's questioning, his own features passive, yet studious of both men's expression. "I came across Gidon and Brev here on the road well on the other side of the mountains," he adds when there is a pause. "They have travelled very far on this errand, and suffered no small amount on their journey, and taken a great deal of risk in their search for the boy's father." His voice is quiet, and there is a sympathy there that is perhaps unexpected from this rough-looking wanderer.
[Mobeorn(#22365)]
"Beornings," Mobeorn corrects briskly. "But no, son," he says more gently, "I and the Laird know of all who cross here, and none like you have been seen. Maybe..." He glances to the Ranger, "further east? In Dale? What kind of business would have brought him traveling out this far?"
One of Brev's eyebrows tilts up at Thulion's speech. "You seem to know an awful lot about us for someone we've met once," he murmurs to the man, eyes glinting in what might be amusement.
Mobeorn's suggestions cause him to shake his head, sending dark curls straying across his face. "I can't speak for Gidon, and some things he may not know - or may not want to face. He's still little more than a lad, for all life's treated him harshly." The thought of 'east' is brushed aside maybe there are some things Brev also does not want to face. A moments silence, then he speaks again. "One thing, though, I can raise. Folk have spoken of a toll for passing yonder," he jerks his head westward.
[Thulion(#28108)]
"I have walked many of the same roads as you and your companions have," answers the Ranger to Brev with a slightly weary smile. "And I know that they are not easy paths to travel."
He dips his head once in a nod to Mobeorn's suggestion, and looks again to the Dunlending. "In Dale, I think, you would be more likely to find word of Gidon's father, if he came so far east. There is a town of many men there, and I have heard that news comes there by many roads, from such companies as your Dwarven friends here."
At Thulion's initial comment, Brev's shoulders lift in a shrug. "If you find a path that /is/ easy, do let me know," he answers lightly. The remainder of the speech, with its repetition of the word east and the name of 'Dale', causes Brev's jaw to tighten slightly, as though the thought were uncomfortable, but he does not elaborate.
At Mobeorn's response he lets his breath out suddenly - clearly the man had been bracing himself for an argument that did not happen. "My folk don't use gold," he tells the Beorning bluntly. "I was going to offer to work passage for myself and young Gidon - that acceptable? I'm a fair hand with carpentry. Speaking of which ..." he glances toward the discarded tools, and then across the dim pool of firelight to where a dark-bearded face is glowering at him, "I'd best be getting back to it."
[Thulion(#28108)]
A brow twitches, curiously, towards the Dunlending, though 'Lee' does not speak any questions that might pass through his mind. Instead he nods once, breaking his attention away from Brev, and he considers Mobeorn's news for a long moment, a frown creasing the Ranger's brow. "Thank you, Mobeorn," says he quietly. "I am glad that it has been resolved, at the least." These tidings, nonetheless, seem to weigh on the Dunedan for another long minute, before he shakes himself a little. "As for the news that I bring, rather I would speak that somewhere less... open," he murmurs in an undertone to the Beijabar.
[Mobeorn(#22365)]
Work for passage is fine, yes," Mobeorn says, then glances in the direction that Brev has looked. "Broken wagon? Surprised they got it over the Pass at all, if you ask me..."
Back to Lee now, Mobeorn giving the man a nod. "The Laird's house if you'd like. Afraid the High Pass Captain is out on business at the moment, though."
Brev favours Mobeorn with a small, tight smile. "Needs drive. Staying put didn't really seem an option."
Looking to Thulion, whose murmurings are noted even if not overheard, he offers casually, lips twitching slightly, "Don't mind me." He offers a nod to each man in turn and turns away.
Soon his head of dark curls is bent over his work - it's hard to see anything in this light - and the man gives every appearance of being unaware of the world around him. Being Brev, however, he is likely still listening to the conversations (mostly Dwarven) going on around him.
Players: Brev, Thulion, Lee, Mobeorn
- You are here:
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Home
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Elendor
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Dunlending
- Arriving in Beorning lands