Night on Weathertop

Amon Sul

The short, windswept grass tenaciously clings to the top of Amon Sul here, poking up around the ruins of what appears to have once been a great tower. All that is left of it now is a wide ring of eroded foundation stones and a fair number of loose stones scattered about the hilltop. The top of Amon Sul appears peaceful and serene. In all directions below spreads Eriador, this hill offering a spectacular and wide reaching view of the land.

Contents:

Danuf

Dwarven Camp

Thari

Obvious exits:

South leads to Weathertop - Southern Base.

North leads to Weathertop - Northern Base.

[Frarin] The twilight is soft and enveloping this night, though a stout breeze blows here at the top of the old tower of Amon Sul. Dwarves are camped about the ruins of the forgotten tower, laying out sparse bedrolls in the shelter of the foundational ring of remaining stones, forsaking tents in the face of a fair evening. No fires are lit tonight to reveal the small company\'s presence the food purchased in Bree is eaten cold. Far below, at the foot of Weathertop, the caravan\'s ponies are tethered all together, watched over by a few vigilant warders. Along the top edges of the old tower do the dwarven soldiers patrol, keen eyes piercing the gloom of the night for any sign of their detection.

The silver merchant Frarin sits upon a worn white stone, settled in the midst of several fallen stones. His nephew Gerin lies wrapped in several blankets, softly sleeping with his back again a stone several feet away from Frarin. Gently puffing on his ever-present pipe, the merchant seems in deep thought, eyes sweeping the darkness beyond Weathertop as if to find an answer to some unknown question there.

[Danuf(#29900)]

A bundle of blankets grumbles in the chilly air. Danuf the Chef is not a Warder, his idea of a military campaign is to start in the alehouse and finish in the kitchen, conquering pot roasts and succulent chickens. The dwarf is swamped in blankets, wrapping around him to cover every inch of tubby-flesh with cloth, insulating his rotund body against the biting cold. A bowl of cold porridge lays at his feet, you know things are bad when even the cooks aren\'t eating it!

[Thari(#31038)] \"No smoke or shadow today, no fire tonight.\" Thari\'s voice is low as she approaches the smoking Frarin. Her eyes are given to the distance, sweeping the shadowed lanscape. \"Makes me wonder if there\'s anything out there.\" She glances down, then aside to Danuf, and gives a half-smile.

Thari\'s approach brings Frarin\'s eyes back into focus and he straightens from his thoughtful hunch. \"The stench should be enough to tell us when we are near,\" says the silver merchant with a grim look, waving Thari towards a toppled stone. The soberness soon fades from his expression, however, leaving the same quiet look of contemplation. More certainly there is on his mind, but he says no more for the moment.

He looks to Danur and, though his lips do not move, his eyes seem to smile. \"At least he has not begun to snore yet, though his growling stomach will not doubt soon disrupt the night.\"

[Danuf(#29900)]

The mummy stirrs, Danuf\'s beard spilling out from the tiny hole made for his pudgy face, rosey cheeks and nose the only sign of life as he glances up to Thari and Fwawin. \"Ah hope we gets a hot breakfast, else you not gunna \'ere the lasta me!\" he bellows, shifting his arms to rearrange his wrappings.

[Thari(#31038)] \"Would be better to see them from here, I say.\" Thari does seat herself on the toppled stone, drawing her feet up and poking into a belt-pouch. \"Smelling\'s too close to make plans.\"

\"Augh, Danuf!\" Thari extracts her pipe and flaps it at the cook. \"You be quiet! Everyone from the Shire to Rivendell can hear you when you holler out like that!\"

[Frarin] Frarin\'s eyes roll towards the sky and he shakes his head at the chef. \"You\'ve had the luxury of hot food for months now, Master Cook,\" he says, speaking around the stem of his pipe. \"A few weeks without will do you good. You marched to the west of your own accord.\" Waving away a warder come to inspect the noise, Frarin wags a finger at Danuf. \"And if we find trouble, you best be ready.\"

He falls silent, looking to the eastward night sky where the crescent moon is rising. \"We have met none,\" he says after a time, addressing Thari. \"That is my chief worry. My wish to leave Bree stemmed out of a desire to banish the blindness, find at least something that would tell us something. And yet we have found nothing.\"

Danuf doesn’t look too happy at all. The bundle of rags rises up, a chubby hand reaching for a drumstick, raising it up like a weapon and gesturing towards the two old hens, \"Blargh, hot food is not just a luxury, it is a requirement!\" he says, stomping over towards the dwarves, a few blankets shedding from his body as he approaches, waving the leg of chicken at Thari, perhaps trying to bap her on the head with it, \"Ah dun need your lecturin on orcs, Ah fought\'em afore!\"

[Thari(#31038)] \"Hey!\" Thari puts up a pipe-ladened hand between herself and Danuf, then scrambles off of her seat to dance away. \"Don\'t you be trying to hit me with that and get chicken grease in my hair! Hammer knows when we\'ll get a bath next, ye fool!\" She puts her back up to a wall of the ruined fortress.

[Frarin] \"Danuf, pipe down,\" says Frarin abruptly, beratingly, removing pipe from mouth. The young Gerin stirs vaguely in his sleep. \"Hot food is not a requirement when the production of it means risking lives. Now sit down and stop waving that ridiculous thing.\" The silver merchant is clearly annoyed, but he hunches forward again and clasps his hands in front of him, face growing serious again. \"If you\'re so hungry, eat that and stop your complaining.\"

Danuf grumbles, taking a bite out of his drumstick, munching noisily as he looks between the two. \"You two dun know a ting bout orcs, don\'t you?\" he sneers, that cold belly must really be agitating him beyond the usual dwarven dourness.

[Thari(#31038)] \"Don\'t know a thing about orcs!\" Thari repeats incredulously. She starts tamping pipeweed into her pipe with a fierce thumb. \"Where were you on the last battle anyway? How on earth do you survive these things?\" She looks down at her pipe and mutters. A glance is sneaked aside at Frarin.

[Frarin] Frarin does not rise to the cook\'s sour challenge, though he does sit back with raised brows as Thari berates Danuf. He crosses his arms against the cold of the night, pipe still hanging from his mouth. \"I know enough to know that orcs will not be warded away with good food. Fire will only attract.\" He glances at Thari as she questions the cook. \"Indeed, Master Danuf, how on earth did you come away from our ambush without a scratch?\"

Danuf smirks, \"Does ya even know who ye be fightin?\" he muses, gesturing to the east with his half-eaten drumstick. He looks between the two dwarves with a bit of a grin, his bushy eyebrows waggling, \"I came away from the ambushes because I be smart, thems not Mordor orcs, they fight in mountains, not on plains... why you so worried?\"

[Thari(#31038)] \"He ran and hid, that\'s what he\'s saying,\" Thari says in an aside to Frarin. \"Might I have a spark from your pipe?\" she adds.

[Frarin] Frarin still sits with arms crossed as Danuf speaks, though he makes a quiet \'Mmm\' sound at Thari\'s assertion about the cook. Brows rise again at Thari\'s question and he nods, leaning forward and reaching a hand into his tunic. \"If they fight in mountains, Master Cook, why then have they come down into Eriador? Answer me that. If they do not fight on plains, why then were we attacked on the cusp of one? The forest on the east side of the river where we met them is no better suited to their purposes than these plains.\" He pulls from his tunic a very thin stick, a few inches long. He gently tucks the end of it into the bowl of his pipe and soon a yellow flame catches. The merchant offers the lit stick to Thari without a word.

Danuf hrmpfs, glaring at Thari as he turns, letting Frarin\'s question go unanswered as he returns to his bedroll.

Thari accepts the stick with a grateful smile and tucks the end into the bowl of her pipe. Her cheeks suck in once or twice, thinning her poor short beard, before the pipeweed catches. She waves the flame out while puffing then drops the stick on the ground.

\"Ahhh.\" A thin stream of paler smoke is released into the night air. She studies Danuf\'s form. \"I can\'t believe he ran and hid,\" she says in an indignant murmur. \"I\'m going to talk to his family about that, you just see if I won\'t.\"

[Frarin] \"Every dwarf takes risks of his own accord,\" says Frarin quietly, recrossing his arms and watching Danuf\'s retreat with shadowed eyes. \"Some who would fight are forbidden from doing so, and others who would run are expected to stay.\" He does not comment on the cook\'s failure to answer his question. \"If he were younger or -\" a sidelong glance at Thari \"- a woman, would you think differently of him? I do not condone his actions, if indeed he hid instead of fought, but some are ill-suited for dangerous roads. What weapon does he wield beyond his cooking tools?\"

[Thari(#31038)] \"Mmm.\" Thari\'s shoulders hunch a little as she smokes in thoughtful silence. \"I suppose that\'s a good point. Perhaps he didn\'t want defend the hobbits either, not as we did,\" she says around her pipe. The stem is removed from her teeth and her voice lowers further. \"It\'s not comfortable to see cowardice in a dwarf. Many things might be said about our race but I would not have cowardice as one of them.\"

[Frarin] Initially, Frarin says nothing in response to Thari. The two go on smoking in silence for a time, hazy tendrils of smoke wrapping about their heads, the silver merchant rocking back and forth with arms crossed. He heaves a great sigh, staring at the sparse grass at his feet. When he looks up, the usual sobriety has left his face. He looks only tired. \"Cowardice,\" he says simply, more statement than anything else. \"Cowardice.\" That seems all he is able to say on the subject, as if uncomfortable or unwilling to say anything further. He does, however, mutter quietly, \"That is, perhaps, because he did not know what we sought to protect. Some of our company have been to Bree before. I myself have not always beheld it with such frustration as our latest visit.\"

[Thari(#31038)] \"Now you might have something there,\" Thari grumbles. She twitches the edge of her cloak and stamps once on the ground. \"If the Breefolk always behaved as they have this time I\'d say let them go hang and march straight home. You can\'t say you haven\'t thought of it too.\"

[Frarin] \"No, I can\'t,\" says Frarin, grumbling voice still unusually quiet. \"But that is frustration. Pure, pent up, disbelieving frustration.\" He uncrosses his arms and takes the bowl of his pipe in one hand, pointing the stem at Thari. \"Think on this. Know you of any other place in this Middle Earth where there dwells a people like the Breelanders and the Shirelings? Where a company of bruised and bleeding dwarves can be laughed into silence when they bring news of an approaching host of orcs? Bree has always been as you saw it.\"

The silver merchant shakes his head, replacing his pipe. \"I have been to Bree twice before, with goods for sale and no enemy army at my back. I have spent whole nights at the Prancing Pony enjoying the inn\'s best beer and the songs and stories of the townsfolk. They are not all of them averse to hearing tales from abroad, so long as their own comfort is not threatened.\"

He clears his throat, staring with raised brows at Thari. \"Now, you cannot say that is not valuable unto itself? It was sheer stupidity, foolish innocence, that kept the Breelanders from action. You say that you would have let them hang, but I say that, so long as such a foolishly isolated people remain, there is hope yet that the darkness that pervades this world will not spread to every corner of the earth.\"

[Thari(#31038)] \"Now you\'ve said that before, Master Frarin, and you know I\'m in agreeance with you for the most part.\" Thari answers him with a respectful half-bow. \"I\'ve been here myself and know them to be a hospitable folk, though poor and rarely profitable to trade with.\"

She puffs at her pipe in silence for a while. \"It makes me think, in an odd way, of the future of the dwarves. We have no such peace and I say we\'ll never find it, and we grow slowly. This is why I so loathe cowardice. I would not have us remembered like that.\"

[Frarin] Taking a pull on his pipe, Frarin sends off a smoke ring, then shrugs lightly. \"It is not the fate of our people to have peace. Once great, now withering after beset by many troubles, that is the legacy of the dwarves. But always we will continue. Always that...\" his voice falters, as if he had stumbled into saying something he not originally intended to say. But now committed, he finishes the sentence. \"Always that is what my father said.\"

The merchant quickly moves on to Thari\'s next point, however, his thoughtful expression hardening slightly. \"I agree with you, Thari, about cowardice among the dwarves. It is not our nature. But I do not think we will be remembered for a few, when the courage of many is so well known.\"

Thari studies Frarin out of the corner of her eye as he speaks with only the slight glow from the pipe-bowl for light. \"That is true,\" she says at last. She gives a smoke-laden snort. \"Breefolk, for instance, will remember us as madfolk.\"

[Frarin] Frarin actually smiles at Thari\'s words, head bent, the facial expression buried in his beard. \"Very mad and very rich,\" he says, giving a silent chuckle. \"Still, we would have been a company of funny Outsiders even had we not come bearing bad news. And there is this,\" he says with more seriousness, more pride. \"When we find this host again, whatever our fate, those who remember us will quake at the knees and hide themselves.\"

That said, Frarin rises, pipe in hand. \"And now, I suggest we both try to get some sleep. Who knows what tomorrow may hold? Or the following day? So long as you yourself are of strong heart, do not trouble yourself over the dishonour of others.\"

Thari laughs quietly herself and steps away from the wall. \"Good counsel you always have, Master Frarin.\" She gives a very deep and respectful bow to the older dwarf. \"I am glad that you happened to be among this caravan. Good night then!\" She straightens and moves away to find her own bedroll, trailing smoke.

[Frarin] Frarin imitates Thari\'s bow. \"You as well, Thari. Good night!\" And with that he gathers together his own bedroll and spreads it near the stone upon which he had been sitting. Tapping the remnants of his pipe onto the ground and stamping them out, darkness at last fully envelopes Amon Sul.