Bor\'s Folly: Meeting the Woses

Daylight streams in through patches in the forest canopy, reflected off the snow coated ground. Breakfast has passed, and Calenloth is found here by the fire. The young woman has all but finished clearing up, humming softly to herself as she buries the scraps in the embers. She sits back upon the bench, sipping the remainder of her tea.

There is nothing to do but wait. And so Menelglir does, sitting on a log near to the fire, whittling a piece of wood and whistling a low tune. Now and then--more often, in fact--he looks up to the woods.

From a small stream nearby, Conalmir brings a bucket of water, setting it down by the fire, ready to be used for tea or soup or whatever. Then he too sits down, his back to the fire. \"Do you think they will come, Sir?\" he asks after a while. \"How long does Sir Imrakhor intend to wait?\"

Calenloth looks up, albeit apprehensively at the Squire\'s question. The mug, grasped between both hands, is lowered to her lap.

\"Of that, you must ask Sir Imrakhor. But..do not expect a reply,\" Menelglir says. \"He has his plans and does not care to share them.\"

Conalmir nods. He seems a little nervous, looking out to the woods often. At last, he says, with a slightly rueful, half-laugh, \"If we were at sea, waiting for a enemy ship to show sails over the horizon, I would feel I knew how to prepare. This...\" He shakes his head.

\"Best to get your mind off of it, then,\" Menelglir answers, looking up briefly from whittling. \"Find something to do that does not involve, oh, running a whetstone along your sword blade or polishing rust off of chain mail,\" he grins. \"Though what they may be, I cannot say. Ask the ladies.\"

\"Perhaps a walk?\" Calenloth suggests, quietly. \"We had gone the other day. It helped somewhat, I think.\" She casts her glance to the ground. \"Better than waiting, anyway,\" she mulls to herself.

Though the woods are thinner here, near to the Wose village, they are no less unnerving. There is a silence to the place, penetrated only by the odd beast scattering through the brush. One would come to believe the place uninhabited.

It is not.

With daylight, they come. Fifteen stumps of hard, gnarled flesh. Short legs and long beards. These, they are no children. Methodically, they surround the camp. Yet only one of the Druedain approaches the perimeter, waddling forth with grass sashaying about his waist. \"Tall Men far from Walls of Stone,\" he notes gruffly.

The squire looks alarmed at the very thought of asking the ladies anything at all. \"I would be glad to fetch more water,\" he says hastily. He looks down at himself. \"And my boots are getting a little scuffed again. Or ...\" He stops, staring, and swallows, feeling automatically for the sword that is not buckled to his hip.

The knight\'s first reaction is absolute silenece and stillness. Then slowly, quite slowly, he stands. \"They are here,\" Menelglir says softly.

Then one step does he take toward the leader of the Woses, but one only. \"Sir.\"

The sun flashes brightly on the horizon. Night gives way to morning.

Calenloth, on the bench, also freezes. A deep breath, and she too rises, placing her mug on the seat, to shakily offer a curtsy. Eyes cast to the ground, her knees tremble slightly, but forcing herself to stand, she also nods a silent greeting.

Conalmir stands and bows, then takes a step sideways to stand slightly in front of Calenloth. He too is quiet, allowing Menelglir to be their spokesman.

The stumpy creature paces to and fro about the makeshift. \"Wild Men watch you along the road, watch you stop, watch you in woods. Watch Tall Man make noise as bad as gorgun!\" Not only does the leader laugh, but the rest of the party as well.

As the laughter subsides, the leader says, \"Why do you come, Stone-housers? No stone here. Only memories.\"

\"We are honored, sir,\" Menelglir answers, bowing to the man briefly. \"We come to ask your help, in fact. About your memories.\" He glances to the other two, looking for help on this, it seems.

\"Gorgun?\" Calenloth\'s voice raises just slightly from behind Conalmir. \"I hope they do not refer to my singing!\" The young woman may have chosen to make an inopportunely timed joke, but her pride is indeed wounded. She steps sideways, still behind the Squire, saying, \"We travel to Druwaith Iaur.\"

\"To seek a ship from long ago,\" is Conal\'s contribution. And in truth, this is nearly all that he knows. The laughter - from behind, from all sides - makes his shoulders tense, but he doesn\'t look around, keeping his eyes on the one who speaks with them.

\"Mountain Men,\" says the Druedain leader, stopping at mention of Druwaith Iaur. \"Hmmph. Tall Men from Seas drive Mountain Men from grass to cave and peak. We have leaf and tree, bird and beast. They have rock and rock and rock.\"

\"Do not like Tall Man. Will not help Tall Man.\"

\"I am sorry. We...Well, I had thought that the Stone men and Mountain men were friendly, long ago at least. We do not come here seeking to disturb you more..\" Again Menelglir looks to the others for help.

So saying, Menelglir draws a step closer to Calenloth.

\"Please,\" Calenloth\'s voice rings from behind the men. \"The ship we seek,\" she continues, insistently, \"It was lost. Chased by an enemy, we believe. Perhaps a common enemy to both our kind.\"

\"Is there anything we could do for you, so that you would help us?\" Conalmir asks in his turn. \"Or give to you?\"

\"Crumb-bringer, you mistake. Khan-buri-Khan shall help Tall Men with Mountain Men. Give you gift to bring them. Gift they like. Gift will make them help.\"

The Druedain looks to Conalmir and laughs. \"We give you gift. You give us gift.\"

\"Khan-buri-Khan..\" Menelglir says hesitantly, \"what gift could we give you?\"

Conalmir is silent again, waiting for the answer.

\"What gift is gift if told what to give? No gift at all,\" says Khan-buri-Khan, shaking his head. His beard shakes with it. \"Think, Tall Man. Think.\"

\"We around. Always around. Find you when you have gift for Wild Men.\"

\"Very well,\" says Menelglir, then grins, \"though I do promise you the gift will not be of our singing.\" He sighs a little, and looks to the Squire. \"Think, Conalmir. I am at a loss.\"

\"Perhaps we should discuss this gift with Sir Imrakhor, Sir?\" Calenloth asks Menelglir softly. \"He may have some ideas.\"

\"And the others,\" Conalmir says. \"All of us - each one may have something to offer.\" A smirk slides across his face as Menelglir promises they won\'t be singing for a present. \"I know not - something of value to them that they cannot acquire themselves...\"

\"Then I, for one,\" Calenloth mourns, \"may have nothing else to offer, if my music is so offensive.\"

\"Tall Men talk. Wild Men leave,\" says Khan-buri-Khan, a mischevious smile carving a line in an otherwise stony visage. \"We find you when time is right.\"

The Druedain are there for a moment longer but as their leader exits the outskirts of the camp, they are gone. And then, so is Khan-buri-Khan.

Menelglir is silent as the others talk and he watches the mountain men leave. \"Something from the heart--not necessarily something of value, at least not in the conventional sense,\" he says. \"But...we will talk. A harp? a horse? a sword? I cannot say.\"

The squire nods. \"I\'ve no idea,\" he admits. \"Perhaps a poem. I am not offering to compose it!\" he adds hurried.

Calenloth returns to her seat upon the bench, lifting her now-cold tea back to her hands. \"What could they use?\" she wonders alound, swirling the liquid around the mug.

\"Land. Land that was theirs,\" Menelglir says. \"Our blades against the enemy, if the enemy reaches here to them in the forest? I will go find Sir Imrakhor,\" he says, though, turning about to seek the man.

\"Promises,\" Conal adds. \"If they will believe them.\" He watches the knight go, and returns to his own seat - not too near the girl.