Scouting abroad

East Road - West of Weathertop

The East road leads along the edge of the hills to the north, a random scattering of low, grassy knolls which stretch far into the distance. Dominating the view here, however, is the impressive sight of Weathertop, eating up the skyline a little ways to the east just north of the road. To the west, there is little to see except for the road, fields, and sky.

Contents:

Rhifaroth

Obvious exits:

West and East

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

It has been raining, the trailing end of a summer storm having passed in the night. The morning is misty with moisture even as the sun begins to burn it off, rising in the east. Still, the earth is rich with odours of green growing things and earthly decay. Quiet now, after the storm.

Some short distance from the road, up the northern side amid the rolling land of hills and trees, a figure moves. Bow in hand, it is a tall man garbed in grey - a perfect hue for a wet, misty morning. Carefully he moves, then pauses to lift his bow with arrow already knocked.

No, not quiet a clear shot... he waits, concentrating on his task at hand, then eases to the side and forward just a bit more...

Then his arrow is released.

[Frarin] The rising sun and morning mist make the land warm and hazy, almost obscuring two others who roam the hills far to the west of Weathertop. Almost, but not quite. Farther east and north of the man, the two figures are significantly shorter and pass from knoll to knoll with quick strides. Although not apparently taking great pains to conceal themselves, they are yet far enough from the road to avoid detection by any who walk upon it.

As the figures progress farther west, their forms become steadily apparent. Two dwarves are they, both clad in cloaks, one grey and one faded red. One of them, that clad in grey bears a blue war hammer and sports several prominent scars across his face. The other, in the garb of a soldier, walks with what appears to be a permanent limp.

Together they carefully traverse the land, pausing every few minutes to glance at the ground or to cautiously mount a small hill for a glimpse towards the road.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

At once the man\'s tattooed right hand has gone back to reach for a second arrow, drawing it out and knocking it in a fluid motion even as he leaps through the brush to pursue his meat. But, there is no need. In a few steps, the arrow is put back into his quiver and the man bends to draw forth his boot knife into his right hand instead, the black bow still carried in his left.

\"Blessed Valor, I haven\'t seen a deer in more than a week...\" Rhifaroth mutters to himself. It is only a small, first year doe, but it\'s more than he\'s been able to find lately. The man squats and bends, cutting the animal\'s throat and silently mouths words to himself in the hunter\'s age old tradition.

Only then does he pause, lifting his cowled head to listen. Something else is in the wooded hills, and drawing near. The bloody bootknife is wiped clean and then resheathed, and then his right hand is laid to the grip of his long sword. Rhifaroth stands very carefully and listens, pale eyes scanning the too thin underbrush of the pine wood.

[Frarin] The two dwarves continue their route west, unknowingly drawing closer to the hunter and his prey. But they do not appear to be scouting for something live, be it man, orc or deer, for as they near, they pause again to glance towards the earth. Although a particularly large hill and some scrubby pines lie now between the dwarves and the man, keen ears might still pick out their rumbling voices.

\"The ground\'s all sodden from last night, see,\" the soldierly dwarf says, stooping towards the ground and pressing a gloved hand into the damp grass beneath the wood\'s underbrush. \"But even so, any tracks could still be made out. Leastwise the tracks we\'re looking for.\"

The second dwarf, and a closer glance reveals it to be the silver merchant Frarin, looks towards the ground with a hard, thoughtful look. \"All right then, so they haven\'t split to the north. But what about to the south? They could split and sweep around to the south of the road, forego Weathertop altogether. Surely they must suspect that is where we would dig in?\" And so the conversation goes on.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The low rumble of dwaven voices can not be mistaken for anything else, perhaps. Hand is removed from his long sword and instead the bow is shifted to crook of elbow and the doe hefted. Not a large doe, but plenty for one man and then some, to sup.

Once the doe is over his shoulders, held by her legs and his right hand, the bow is shifted back to his left. Rhifaroth begins to move. Not away from the dwarves, but carefully in a line to take him nearer.

Around the hillock he comes, moving with habitual care of a man unacustomed to cities. When he can see the dwarves clearly, and see the ground they are examining, he pauses. His own voice is low.

\"They have not gone south.\"

[Frarin] The soldier dwarf is the first to come to attention as the voice of another drifts towards the two companions. A gloved hand goes quickly to the plain war hammer harnessed at his belt, but Frarin\'s hand is quicker. \"Stay your hand, Hal,\" he says gruffly, touching the forearm of the other dwarf. The merchant\'s dark eyes regard Rhifaroth for a moment, flicking to the sides of the man as if expecting another.

\"Nay, the main host is still on the road, to the east of here,\" says Frarin, likewise foregoing any formal greeting. \"We did not see them, but we came across signs of their being in the area as we came west. Their foragers go farther afield, in search of food and wood, no doubt.\"

A pause, a look. \"But you know this, I do not doubt.\" He waves to the south. \"My comrade and I came west to see if any contingent had broken away from the main host, such as the wargs and their riders. There has been no attack on Weathertop yet and many grow wary with impatience. It has been wondered whether they would not seek to attack Weathertop from two directions.\"

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The man appears to be quite alone, not in the company of Rangers, Elves, or anything else but his venison this morning. He sets the tip of his black bow upon his left booted toe and rests it there, listening to Frarin\'s rumble.

To Frarin\'s words, Rhifaroth nods, \"Aye.\" he agrees to the first. There are…warg riders scouting about, thickly. They will soon find your camp.\" He frowns, \"I suggested they need be hastened, lured in, and not allowed too much time to nose about... but,\" He shrugs, his own advice to others perhaps discounted.

Shifting the weight of the doe with his free right hand, the tall man turns his hooded head to look back towards the south and east. Rhifaroth\'s scarred, tattooed face frowns, \"I do not think they will attack Weathertop. We are but a nuisance on their way to Bree.\" And then he adds, \"But their General hesitates.\"

Looking back to the dwarves, the man asks, \"How go your preparations?\"

[Frarin] Frarin\'s face is still as the man\'s words concerning his offered advice drift into nothingness. The other dwarf, Hal, raises his brows, but Frarin\'s face is motionless, even if his eyes betray some subtle thought. But he nods at least to Rhifaroth as the man speaks about Weathertop and questions the dwarves about their preparations there.

\"Indeed, this is true,\" Frarin says gruffly, gaze sweeping to the west. \"But Weathertop may prove a handy delay if their General is as hesitant as you, and the Rangers, say.\" And as steady as the dwarf\'s voice is, as subtle his tone, his last words seem carefully chosen. Yet he quickly moves on. \"The preparations go well enough. We have used some of the old stones atop the tower to construct a rough barricade, and a shallow dike has been dug about the base. Even now, others in our company work to fill it with sharpened stakes. But it is as with Bree, such a defense is poor if confronted by such numbers.\"

\"And there is beside that,\" he continues, giving the man a particularly knowing look, \"an edginess within our company, none lessened by the constant appearance of unknown men and elves.\"

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

There is no response for long moments from the tall man, standing with his burden of meat, watching the two dwarves. Their words perhaps remind him of ... other uneasinesses felt amid the allies. His own strange face frowns. If he did but not have the tattoos, he might easily be mistaken for one of the Rangers himself, of such simular blood and garb.

Rhifaroth listens to Frarin speak of their preparations and he nods, \"Delay them we must, stop them if we can.\" Pressing his lips into a thin line, the man adds, \"There are folk in Bree whom I care about. I would not see their homes destroyed, their children consumed in fire, or their flesh to feed this host, Master Dwarf. Whatever you think of me, or us... it seems to me that folk here too easily forget that we have a common enemy here.\"

To the last Rhifaroth shifts his own weight and his bow as though he were about to move on, \"I am about. If you need more hands for your work, mine are too idle waiting otherwise - between those few I can catch away from the host.\"

Is that some offer?

[Frarin] Frarin\'s chin rises, the tip of his long beard wagging slightly as the merchant regards the man with narrowed eyes. Narrowed with contemplation, though, for there seems no ill intent in them. The second dwarf crosses both arms over his chest, apparently content to allow his companion to continue the talking.

At last Frarin\'s deep frown loosens somewhat. \"The dwarves do not easily forget, Stranger. But in foreign lands we are cautious. I did not council trust to he whom you advised to seek me out,\" he says, not eluding the touchy subject. \"For I do not seek to shape the minds of any. But for my part, I too have reasons for wishing to defend Bree and, likewise, will not forget our common enemy, even if I know not fully those I count as allies. Do not doubt that. And do not doubt the dwarves.\"

That is said and done and Frarin, ever the businessdwarf, is quick to move on. \"We are grateful for any and all aid, Stranger. My comrade and I seek to return to Weathertop no later than dusk, but if we are not there and you arrive before us, speak my name and there are those who will see you are given work.\"

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The Ranger-like man picks up his bow from his booted foot and eyes the two Dwarves, \"Men too easily forget, but I know someting of old tales and history, myself, Frarin. Dwarves betrayed some of my own distant kin in the long past, elves killed elves and men a like. Evil knows no race left untouched. So if one of your own comes into my camp with bared axe, and my companion be seriously injured, don\'t expect me to take agression for mere caution.\" That\'s his own for the encounter with Thari.

Bitter words. Even so, the man grows silent again for long moments before he finishes in a lowered voice.

\"But I shall come. My hands are not so clean that I can not work mud, stone, and earth with you against His wishes, master Dwarf.\"

[Frarin] The second dwarf Hal, hitherto quiet, grunts audibly and his face darkens at the man\'s bitter words. He breathes loudly, almost as if holding back a low growl. Frarin gives a meaningful glance to his companion and, face still dark, Hal quiets and looks grudgingly to the east. The silver merchant\'s own face is grim, his mouth a deep frown that is not hidden by his beard.

But when he speaks, his voice is low, grumbling. There is no anger, no warning, in his tone or his words, none of the harsh defensiveness so often associated with the dwarves. Instead he says only, and perhaps unexpectedly, \"That is fair.\"

And that is that. While Hal appears discontent with Frarin\'s reply, the merchant says no more to the stranger\'s bitter words. Only an odd look - is it agreement? understanding? - lingers beneath Frarin\'s gaze.

\"Then come, Stranger,\" says Frarin, nodding, though with a question in his eyes. \"And who is this He, then? Have you a master who would not allow you to work the earth when lives are threatened? Or is that another secret that you will not betray?\"

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

There is a change in the man\'s posture, a shifting of his weight as though instead of departing, he would move to turn towards Amon Sul once more - to bring and share even his game, perhaps. But Frarin\'s last words stop him cold.

Rhifaroth\'s face tightens and he looks at the Dwarf with distaste, \"I am of the Faithful, master Frarin... decended of a long line of such. I serve the interests of the Free, not -His- will. Only to oppose him and his ilk upon this earth. The Dark Lord we do not name openly, nor lightly, where I once dwelled so close to his lands in the east.\"

[Frarin] A glare descends over Frarin\'s face as Rhifaroth looks to him with such distaste, but as instantly as it comes, so is it gone. Surprise shows in his eyes, then realisation, then a look of horror so blatant that the dwarf\'s usual composure is banished in an instant. His stony glare melts, giving way to a look of urgency, urgency to dispel a misunderstanding.

\"Nay! Nay, Stranger, that was not my meaning! I took your words to mean you were sworn to some lord or king, and bore some title for which hard labour was beneath. Whatever may be said of the dwarves, we are not so rash as to accuse men of serving that menace, that terror -\" his words now growling \"- of the south, without good reason.\"

Apologetic is his tone, almost pleading. But however difficult such an act, Frarin soldiers on. \"Mark my words, Stranger. I accuse none but the foulest of this earth of serving His purposes. Forgive me if you thought otherwise.\"

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The hint of anger and rebuke soften in the stranger, but he keeps his place, watching the dwarves warily. Apology isn\'t really what he was expecting, either and it may be that such from a dwarf takes the man aback, a little.

There is still that hint of a frown, Rhifaroth\'s voice low, the weight of the deer over his shoulders ignored, \"You are not unwise to question, Frarin. Too many years I dwelled in lands where men swear their oaths to serve His will. Some of them seem fair enough, even Lordly.\"

His own pale grey eyes flicker up towards Amon Sul, \"It has taken me time to be sure these Ranger folk were not His. But they are thankfully not.\"

Then there is a hint of a smile for the Dwarf, a tired smile, \"You need not apologize to me. I only meant that even Lords of my own land would not put their -own- hands to the earth to work beside your folk in common interest. I have no such pride.\"

[Frarin] The urgency fades from Frarin\'s face just as the anger fades from the stranger\'s, and though the stony glare does not return, the dwarf\'s composure is regained. \"To question perhaps, but not to unjustly accuse. There are those whose fealty to that darkness is obvious, and others more subtle. But I accuse none without reason. Proud we dwarves are, and with long memories of the wrongs done against us, but we know well enough the shame of quick judgment in such matters.\"

Frarin\'s eyes flick to the man as he speaks of his own realm and of working besides dwarves, and the merchant makes a shallow bow. \"That I am glad to hear. There are many of my kin who are the same mind. Not so much within our company, which comprises those accustomed to new allies, but there are many who remains in our halls of stone and content themselves with nothing beyond the realms of the dwarves.\"

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

There is perhaps nothing more to be said, for now. More than this man has said to most, in some while, though the dwarves could not know it. The deer carcus is shifted, the bow picked up once more, \"Game has become scarce. No doubt even Dwarves appriciate fresh meat in the cook pot sometimes.\"

There is a faint trace of that elusive humor again as the man begins to move back towards Amon Sul, \"Perhaps I will find better welcome.\" Rhifaroth inclines his head to each of the two dwarves, then passes them to begin the trek back to the north east to find their encampment.

[Frarin] As for the dwarves, after each offering a nod to the man, they continue their trek eastward. It is not long before they turn north, then west again, giving the land a thorough coverage in their search for stray, unusual tracks. Soon they are but two distant figures again, grey beside red, rapidly moving between the rolling hills and keeping well away from the road. And before long they are gone from sight altogether, enveloped by the sprawling Weather Hills as the sun climbs higher into the sky and lends to the land a misleading sense of warmth and calm.