On the road

[Leitz]

They hunched in a circle. The cloud covered moon gave little light, but they needed it not.

A huge globule of drool crept down a chin.

"I wants man-flesh," one said.

"Juicy," replied another. "Tasty."

Nods in agreement. Glutteral laughs.

The one stood, and then raised his bloody axe.

"Man-flesh!"



They sat around the small campfire, outside the village proper. The inn was full, and three wagons of traders were already overflowing the barns and homes. Their mutual solitude was far enough away to prevent eyes from seeing and ears from hearing what was none of their business. For business was at hand.

Tarabim quietly tuned his lute. The others sat nearby, digesting his tale along with stewed meat, taters, onions, and herbs. The pot was empty, the flagons were full. The cloud covered moon gave little light, but the party had travelled well, thus far.

The passage north west, through Anorien, was usually a simple one, because usually one travelled the great West Road. Usually one used bridges, and stayed in one of the inns that could always be found in one of the many villages along the civilized path. Such was not their path, though. Should Tarabim be seen travelling west, with a party such as these, surely word would get back to Minas Tirith. Surprise, at seeing him on the road. Wonder, at the travel and the company he kept along it.

They had chosen the less well trod paths, through the villages living under the White Tower's rule, but seldom visited by anyone too civilized. The plan to cross the Mering stream north of Firien Wood had been a decent plan. Lotho had no issues making their way, the roads weren't actually bushes that had to be whacked through. A few deep ruts, and a pair of fallen trees, nothing more. Yet the plan needed adjustment, now. The Mering was in unseasonable spate. Some of the travellers spoke of dangers as one went further, perhaps Rohan was not guarding their southern borders as well.

Satisfied with the first string, Tarabim moved to the next. What he knew troubled him, for even he didn't know the truth.

The story of the king losing a mirror? He smiled. The mirror was in it's proper place. Yet most thought it was a copy, a fake. For the mirror itself was not lost, merely the power it granted the rightful king. The prince went to search for the elves who had enchanted the mirror, would they help? Had the Lords of Men done something wrong? Yet did the prince want to succeed, since he had been waiting to be king for decades? Were the Lords of Gondor, those who advised the king, behind the king merely in lip service? In ancient days the Lords had elected a Steward from among their own number, when the king failed to reign.

In years past the king had ruled wisely. His son had been given greater and greater authority, to prepare him to rule. Each time, he had risen to the challenge.

This challenge might be too high.

Tarabim knew one of his former teachers had gone north, to live his days out in harmony. Kalor Silvertounge, as he had been known, had mentioned a village called Bree, far to the north west. Like Tarabim himself, Kalor loved the king and his family. It would take little to talk the old man into granting insight, should he be found.

[tibbius]

Tarabim finished the story of the elf maid who gave up eternity for the love of a human man. It could be told as a tragedy or as a romance, or without either inflection. He liked it best as pure reporting, leaving the morality and emotion to the listeners.

"So what do you think," he asked the halflings and the dwarf and the strange big Beorning. "Who was right? The maiden, her father, or the human lover?"

[Rex]

Lotho

"Isn't the Maiden always right?" Lotho says as he stuffs a third helping of stew down.

[Mr Stereo1]

Lofar the Dwarf shrugged and took another slow spoon from the overhearty bowl of stew he'd taken for fear of Halfling appetites. Dwarves never had to deal with questions like this, unlike Elves and Men, for their kind preferred something more lustrous than the bald, scraggy, chins Human and Elven women bore. Yet the Human and Elven men seemed to find a soft flowing beard as unwomanly as he did the lack.

"The father." Lofar answers, idly waving his spoon. "If she had eternity then couldn't she have got a better deal eventually? Some nice Elven fella who she'd like just as much but wouldn't have to die over. Daughter sold low and early, he was right to stop 'er. Human didn't even get anything out of it either, did he?"

[OGRE MAGE]

Barwuf sits his huge frame against a tree stump, listening and eating, his mind clearly preoccupied with thoughts of something else. Something bad. His deep voice booms like distant thunder.

”Your tale is a bit fanciful, yet somehow......unmistakably familiar. I pull for humans, but I would like to hear your take, Tarabim. And......how about an ending?”

[tibbius]

"Perhaps the man lacked true love," Tarabim replies. "I could never ask someone I loved to give up immortality.
At the same time, the maiden lacked maturity. I do not hear any reason in the story why she had to limit her life to that of her lover.
Could she not have been content to survive him, and remarry, as human women often do in their middle years? She would not have been the first or last widow to grieve and move on."

[Leitz]

A man approached their small camp fire. Barwuf smelled the pipe weed long before the other scent of him arrived. The man made no attempt at stealth, and soon stood nearby.

"Hullo," he said. Neither welcoming nor stand-offish. He looked at each of them in turn. He himself was unknown to them, but easy to see as the local reeve. Armed with a good blade, leathers worn with use but not worn through.

He took a draw on his pipe. "It's crowded in the inn, but Master Tommey is never averse to making a little extra money when it can be honestly made. You can get food and ale to bring back to your camp, as long as you return the trowels and mugs."

He smiled. "It looks like you've eaten, though, and smells as if you've eaten well. Not everyone who travels here can say that."

[Mr Stereo1]

"Well met, friend." Lofar offers greetings to the man with a tradesman's smile. "You're right we're well fed, with thanks to my Hobbit companions, but we've a long journey ahead of us. I wouldn't object to topping up our packs if you've hardtack or cheese to trade."

"I fear we'll have to turn down the ale however." The dwarf waves to the dark night around them. "One never knows when one needs their wits about them without a strong set of walls about them." The Dwarf's smile breaks at the memory's those words stirred. "If you've a barn or the like we can rest our heads beneath we might be interested in that besides."

May as well stock up and see if there's a plot hook here. I'm assuming we've some minimal spending money, even if Lofar's business is ruined.

[tibbius]

Tarabim smiles, grateful for Lofar's road wisdom, a trait that already has spared them many hardships on the way from Minas Tirith. He pulls out his purse and clinks it in his hand: "We'll be glad to pay a fair price," he says with a smile. charming [1d6] = 4[1d6] = 5[1d6] = 1.

[Rex]

Lotho

"Perhaps just a look to see what Master Tommey has to trade."

[Leitz]

The man smiled slightly. "No barns that are not filled, I'm sorry to say. Tommey has food aplenty, though, and several of th efamiles are already helping make more."

"Two caravans are here, and if you're looking for trade, they have all sorts of oddments and gegaws. They've been here for a couple days, and seem civilized enough, I doubt you'll have any trouble on this side of the river. Once you cross, though, be on your guard. Some of the traders have talked about things; odd feelings. Other traders late for gatherings."

[Mr Stereo1]

"Good to know, Master Tommey." Lofar spoke with a solem tone, thoughts still elsewhere. He takes another spoon of his stew to buy time to collect himself. Swallowing he turns to the others with a wave of his spoon. "I'd like to visit the caravans before we leave tomorrow, to ask about their journeys here if nothing else. Perhaps they have news of the roads we might take? As for your offer, I should like to take you up on it if you'll let me finish up my last spoonfuls. Traveller's fare is what we need, if you can sell it to us."
Carousing (Haggling) roll[1d6] = 1[1d6] = 2[1d6] = 4

What's the Campaign ID by the way?

[OGRE MAGE]

Barwuf looks up from his meal at the talk of dangerous things across the water.

“What do you mean by odd feelings? Can you tell us any more? I don’t like the sound of that one bit.”

[Leitz]

"The sense of being watched, mostly. Some trail sign that no one recognized. Caravans have been travelling in larger groups, though, and untouched."

He paused. "Haven't seen many small caravans coming from Rohan, though. Once you cross the river, there's a trail that leads into it that most use. Riders of the Mark still patrol, but people of good will are always allowed to pass."

[Mr Stereo1]

"Good to hear." Lofar says heartily. "Well patrolled roads are a blessing to any traveler and there are few bandits who can outmatch a mounted Rohhirim."

Is it a good time to skip to heading north?

[Rex]

Yup

[tibbius]

Tarabim agrees to continue north and cross the high water in the morning.

[OGRE MAGE]

The huge Barwuf nods his head in agreement, his mind clearly on other things at the moment.

[Leitz]

What would have been two hard days march in good weather became a five day slog. Leaving before dawn in the morning was out, the ferryman took a while to work up the courage to ford the river, even with such a small party. It cost a bit in coin, but a tree rolled down the river and nearly destroyed their barge. Nothing but the raw muscle power of the party kept the craft moving fast enough to avoid the thick trunk and long limbs.

Yet they crossed, and were quickly on the small road that follows the Mering, and then up the Entwash. Tarabim wondered if he would be recognized, they were still too close to Minas Tirith. He would be safe, though, as a storm like no other blew in. Dirt became mud, the banks of the Entwash overflowed, and the party lost all sense of dry. No one else was on the trail, and for good cause. Had there been tracks, they would have been washed away.

As it was, Lofar was hard pressed to keep everyone on the trail. The days seemed little different from the night, and if there were hommlets along the way, none could keep their welcoming fires lit.

It was evening, five cold and miserable days from when they had left, that the trail seemed to turn towards the river. Darker shadows sat along the trail, buildings. With light coming from a window or three. As the party approached, Lofar knew where the inn was, and singing came from inside.

The door, stout wood with iron bindings, opened noiselessly to a strong shove. A warm hearth fire beckoned as children, men, and women danced around the floor. Tables and benches were pushed up to the sides to make room, a pair of wizend gaffers sat ensconced in a corner. They scowled, but no one seemed to notice. Or if they noticed, no one cared.

The music died as the party entered. The large barkeep looked at them, shook his head, and said "Close the door, the night is coming." With a flourish, he pulled the small towel off his shoulder, wiped down a part of the bar near the door, and pulled large mugs from below the countertop.

"Stay there, you're a right mess!" In a minute everyone had a full and frothing mug. The barkeep leaned forward, and looked them up and down. "If you plan on staying here, well, we'll need to take you around back first. Nothing against you fine gentlemen, but the missues would lay me out if I let you track all that mud across her freshly cleaned floor."

"Now, what can I do for you?"

[tibbius]

Tarabim sips the beer, then swigs, then gulps. "That's ... good," he says. A moment later: "So round the back, there is a place to clean up? Tell me how to go, I'll be there soon as I quaff this mug. Do you have warm beds upstairs?" He wiggles his fingers in the coin purse slung at his armpit, and pulls out two or three bright silver pennies. Plenty left where those came from, he thinks. "What would you charge us?" charming [1d6] = 1[1d6] = 2[1d6] = 4