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Logs

Rumors of War (Part II)

Tags: Grimbeorn,  Lithorlas (temped by Sudanir),  Admundr

Short Summary: While in Beorning, Lithorlas seeks out Grimbeorn, to inform him of the heightened orc activity in Mirkwood. Grimbeorn sends a scout for a second assessment.
Date (real-life): 2010-09-18
Scene Location: Beorning Village
Time of Day: Early Afternoon

Tavern

The common room is a circular room with a large radius. Located in the center of the wooden circle is a large fire pit, burning and spitting up smoke and ashes of wood. Directly above the fire is a large smoke hole to which the rest of the ceiling slopes towards. The wood around the smoke hole is blacked with the smoke. The stout tables stand ready to hold the repast of large men, for large are the Northmen who live in this village; the stools and long benches are constructed of thick hardwood, and can hold even the largest of their number aright.

The common room is populated with men and women taking a few moments off their feet during the day; light floods in through the open windows of the common room, warming everything in a bright basking glow.

Contents:
Grimbeorn
Woody
Obvious exits:
 Dining Room leads to Dining Room.
 Out leads to Great Bear Inn - Entrance Hall.

[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
The Inn is slow on this early afternoon, though a large man of Beorning sits at a corner table, eating a large bowl of stew. Vegetable stew from the smell of it and the customs of these people. A mug of mead is by him, along with an entire loaf of bread, which he picks up and bites from.

[Sudanir(#31361)]
The door to the inn opens, and one of the many Eldar who have been visiting the Village of late steps through, ducking his head under the door jamb. As soon as he is in, he sniffs. Vegetable stew. It is a pleasant prospect. But the elf looks about for the person he expects to find, and indeed finds him, in the corner. Silently he wends his way through tables toward the large man, pausing politely just beyond the reach of its chairs, waiting to be noticed.

[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
"Mmm?" Grimbeorn looks up, mouth full of the bread he has just bitten into. "Do I know you?" he asks, gesturing for the elf to take a chair at his table.

[Sudanir(#31361)]
"Perhaps not. I am Lithorlas, Scout of the Tauredhrim." He pulls out the chair to have a seat

[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
"Lithorlas." Grimbeorn says, eye narrowing. "Of whose folk? Surely you did not come with the Hirion, for he would have told me so."

[Sudanir(#31361)]
"I am from Amon Thranduil." Lithorlas says with just a hint of pride, unable to fully suppress it.

[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
"Ah.." Grimbeorn scoops up some of the stew, thoughtful. "It seems to me," he says finally, "that many elven folk are here at once. And I should like to know why. Perhaps this relates to your news? Rare is it that the elven king in the woods deems it necessary to talk to the folk of Beorn."

[Sudanir(#31361)]
Lithorlas' face twitches slightly in response. "Rare indeed. In fact, today is not one of those days either. Sudanir suggested I come." Details of this, he seems intentionally to leave out. "We thought we might inform you that a large army of goblins and hobgoblins and orcs have gathered in Mirkwood, and have turned north off the Old Road."

[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
"I see," the Laird answers gruffly. "Sudanir?" He shakes his head, not recognizing the name. "An army. Turned north of the road. Toward, I assume, Amon Thranduil? We had an army attack our outpost here, and yet only the dwarves came to our aid."

[Sudanir(#31361)]
The mention of dwarves makes the elf's jaw tighten, the implication not lost on him. But he responds to the first statement. "Well, they are lost." Lithorlas says in an almost kindly way, looking down at the wood on the table and running a finger along one of the raised ridges on the wood that represents one of the age rings of the tree from which the table was made. His sarcasm is subtle. "And we have told them as much. But they stubbornly persist northward. They have not discovered the way to Amon Thranduil...yet."

[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
"I see..." Grimbeorn's nose twitches; he pushes the stew bowl aside and folds his arms across his chest. "Your kinfolk are here in my lands. You have come here to ask their aid?"

[Sudanir(#31361)]
"They have come to the aid of my scouting party once already, though I would say they fared worse than we. I did come to see to their health, and to see if they have any aid left in them. But we also thought..." Lithorlas tries to find just the right words. "that to have such interesting times in our /fair/ wood," again the sarcasm of the state of Mirkwood comes out, "and not invite our neighbors to the West and to the East would be...un-neighborly."

[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
The bear man laughs, loudly and gruffly. "Are you telling me that the emissary of Thranduil is too proud to ask for aid from the men of Beorn? That you must scoot about it and come at it by this indirect request?" he snorts. "Tell me, Lithorlas, the man of Gondor we have here with us now, he says I should look to my own borders and not come to the aid of just such a request like this..." That seems to give him pause and he growls low in his throat for a moment. "Though how he could guess of such things... But tell me: Why should I not watch my own borders lest they be attacked when I send aid to your king?"

[Sudanir(#31361)]
The elf seems not to enjoy being laughed at. "I speak with the full authority I am given." he answers evenly. "We have sent word of this goblin invasion to Amon Thranduil, and presumably an army is being raised and girded, but communications from our king have been virtually non-existent, at least at the time I left. I do not even know if he is there. As I said, I came here at the suggestion of Sudanir, who has been leading our scouting party."

Lithorlas scans the room with his eyes, and licks his lips. "This Man of Gondor must be your friend indeed, to give you such counsel. See to your own lands...I suppose it is possible that there are goblins about, hidden, waiting for you to send your warriors into the woods so they can raid what you leave behind. But having seen with my own eyes the thousands that camp under the canopy of Mirkwood, it is difficult to imagine there are any left any where else. If you doubt me, send a scout to accompany me back, and I will show him. You /could/ stay here in your village, just in case an unseen and only guessed-at enemy shows up. While we battle in Mirkwood, you can hold fast here, waiting. For perhaps nothing."

[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
"Elves," Grimbeorn grunts, pushing back from the table to stand up now. "I will consider all the information I have at hand and decide on that. As for a scout, yes, that is a good idea. Seek out my Bear Clan Chieftain, Agmundr. He I trust to serve as my eyes on this. But do not think that I take the advice of strangers heedlessly," he growls. "This man of Gondor may or may not be right. I am not certain. But I will seek the advice of the Hirion before I make my decision."

[Sudanir(#31361)]
The visiting elf also rises from the table, as Grimbeorn does. "I am Lithorlas, a scout of the Ndaedeldhrim. I bring no treaties, no emissary exchanges. Only information, for you to use or discard as you see fit. And I am sorry to hear of your outpost being raided. We did not know. You may assign blame if you wish but..." He looks around at the large wooden structure of the tavern, then again at Grimbeorn, "I imagine that if your house is on fire, you do not first run to your neighbor's house to see if it is also on fire." He pushes in his chair. "I thank you for your hospitality. I will wait for your Chieftain, Agmundir [sic] before I head back."

[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
"Agmundr," Grimbeorn corrects, grinning. "We use not the elven language for our names. As for blame," he shrugs. "I do not assign it. I seek only to do right by my people and my lands and not get into bickering fights over blame. I will send a scout and consider your request. As I said." Clearly, this interview is over, as the Beorning Laird deliberately turns to head out.


(Later that day)

 


Northern Village
The northern village lies sprawled out beyond the road leading from the Ford of Carrock. The river can be heard throwing its torrent waters against the rocks along the river banks, creating a roaring thunderous sound. Several roads lead from the larger road, winding their way through the village. Located here are several of the village's markets and stores. The sweet smell of honeycakes wafts out from one of the buildings.

The village bustles with activity as the sun is up in the sky. Signs outside the buildings clearly indicate their purpose. An anvil and hammer is displayed outside the blacksmith's, a honeycake lathered in honey outside the baker's. To the north can be seen an open courtyard, surrounded by a few trees.

The sky is clear. The dusk winter air is cold and dry around you. The moon is not visible.

Contents:
Sudanir
Agmundr
Obvious exits:
Northwest leads to East Bank of Anduin, Fishing Hole.
Northeast leads to Mad Dog Tavern.
South leads to Village Crossroads.
Southeast leads to Infirmary.
East leads to Bakery.
North leads to Open Courtyard.
West leads to Blacksmith Forge.
Southwest leads to Anduin East Bank.

[Agmundr(#32546)]      
Snow covers the ground of the Beorning village, but the sky is clear, showing the sun setting in the west. The Beornings are winding down their day, most in their homes or the taverns, eating, drinking and enjoying life. From the forge there is the ringing sound of metal being shaped with a hammer. It goes on for some minutes before the loud hiss of hot metal meeting water can be heard. After a moment, a man steps out.

Not just any man, though. Breath steaming in the air, and taking a fresh honeycake from someone coming from the bakery, this is Agmundr: Chieftain of the Bear Clan and blacksmith. Taking a bite from the honeycake, the berserker sighs quietly, some steam rising up due to his work in the forge.

[Sudanir(#31361)]
Approaching the Smithy is an elf: one of many who have been in the village during recent weeks. And to the uninitiated eye, surely one elf looks just like another. But this is Lithorlas, of the Ndaedlhrim, and a different flavor of elf. He steps toward the blacksmith, leaving no tread nor sounds of treat on the snow. "I seek the Chieftain, Agmundir [sic]."

[Agmundr(#32546)]     
Agmundr glances over as he hears the attempt on his name, a brief frown upon his face. He does not speak until he's taken another bite of honeycake, chewed and swallowed it. "I am Agmundr," says the man, stressing the proper pronunciation of the name. "How might I help you, Elf?"

The sun sinks behind the Misty Mountains in the west, breaking the light into a few fitfull colours of sunset before the onset of night.

[Sudanir(#31361)]
"Greetings. I am Lithorlas, scout of the Tauredhrim. I came to your village to impress upon your Lord Grimbeorn the size of the army of Goblins that has gathered in Mirkwood. However, I think he would rather hear your witness, so I am to guide you out into the Wood." Lithorlas eyes the honeycake as the man seems to relish it so.

[Agmundr(#32546)]      
"Is that so?" Murmurs the Chieftain, an eyebrow arched. After a moment, he breaks off a piece of the honeycake and holds it out to the Elf. "Well. Shall we leave immediately, or are there other things for you to see to?"

[Sudanir(#31361)]
Lithorlas takes the honeycake and after a moment, tastes it with just a nibble. It is good. "I am ready, though we both might be wise to bring extra of these" He holds the cake up to illustrate, "and water. Fare in the wood has become increasingly dismal."

[Agmundr(#32546)]      
The Chieftain nods. "I need to grab my equipment, as well. How many days shall we need food for?" Asks Agmundr, walking towards the baker and gesturing for the Elf to follow. "I have, of course, heard of the troubles under that forest of yours; quite a few Elves have been in our infirmary, I am told."

[Sudanir(#31361)]
"Do you climb trees very well?" Lithorlas asks in a seemingly unrelated direction, even as he follows alongside Agmundr toward the bakery. "And I would buy everything they had, had I coin. Perhaps I could trade. The scouts that have been shadowing the army could certainly afford some more supplies."

[Agmundr(#32546)]     
 The Chieftain pauses briefly, glancing over at the Elf. "I am no expert but I can, generally, not fall down from them." The man snorts softly as he resumes his walk. "'Tis winter; I am not so foolish as to buy out everything. But... what is it you have to trade?" He stops outside the bakery, looking back to the Elf.

[Sudanir(#31361)]
The elf seems somewhat at a loss. Everything he has, he needs. He looks about his person. "I have a broach. And rope." he says, at a loss for more ideas. "And I would not buy out their entire store room. Only the cakes that have been baked right now."

[Agmundr(#32546)]     
 "Hmph. The broach may do," says Agmundr, gesturing to the door. "Go on in and see if you can. I shall meet you back here after I get my gear." With a nod, he strolls off further north, finishing his honeycake.

[Sudanir(#31361)]
Lithorlas hmmphs softly, watching the man leave. After a moment, he un-claps his broach and removes it from the cloak he wears. "I shall be laughed at for this, surely." he murmurs, then steps inside the bakery.

 


Date added: 2010-09-19 15:14:32    Hits: 58
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