Success on 2, 4, 7, 10, 11, 12, 13
2. He’s been strange since youth.
4. Oderic was fostered by an old warrior called Helmgut, father of Brunhild.
7. Helmgut was the best warrior in the village, and he was training Oderic to follow in his footsteps.
10. Oderic was very close to Brunhild.
11. Oderic was obsessed with Brunhild, and would follow her around the village.
12. He would do anything to protect her.
13. If he came back to the village, she would know about it.
Gathering the others afterwards, Findegil speaks.
"Oderic has been a strange one since he was young, I am uncertain why. I do know that he was fostered and trained by Helmut, the finest warrior in this village. Who is also father of Brunhild, whom Oderic long obsessed over and was close to. She would surely know if Oderic returned, he sounds the sort to do anything for her. And there is Helmgut himself, whom has taken to wine heavily since the murder. I suggest that we speak to Brunhild first, and then to Helmgut if we are still left seeking clues to where Oderic may have fled to."
"Odd, then, if she's involved whether she wants to or not in Oderic's affairs, that she hasn't accosted us yet. Unless she has something to hide? No matter - Findegil, I'm sure that she'll be happy to talk to you."
Since the death of her husband and the arrest of her foster brother, Brunhild has attended to her duties as a grieving widow. Every day, she puts fresh flowers on the grave mound of Rathfic, and lights candles at night to guide his soul to whatever doom awaits mankind. She has become
cold and brittle, like a woman of ice.
The two men never liked each other, and they immediately began arguing. She tried to stop them, and Rathfic struck her in the face, knocking her down. Oderic attacked him, one of them drew a knife, they struggled – and then the knife was in Rathfic’s chest, and there was blood everywhere. She screamed.
Shortly afterwards, her father Helmgut came running. He saw Oderic standing there over Rathfic’s body, and hit his foster-son with the flat of his axe. Oderic did not even try to fight back; he just dropped the knife and fell.
Findegil approaches Brunhild with questions, and receives troubling answers.
"My thanks for your words, and my condolences. This is a tragedy and I doubt a mortal hand could have stopped bloodshed one day. Please do not dwell on it more than you must."
Findegil leaves to speak with them.
"It appears that Oderic was about to leave the village, and wished Brunhild to accompany him. She hesitated, Rathfic returned, and argument broke out. Her attempts to break them up were met by Rathfic striking her in the face. Oderic, with his dispensation to protect Brunhild at any cost, drew a knife and stabbed Rathfic. Which was when Helmgut returned to the sight. Oderic did not resist when the flat of the axe was swung to knock him out."
"Oderic returned a few days ago. He believes that fate gave him a second chance when the orcs slew Merovech and Odo, and that he seeks to flee west and never return to the land of the Beornings."
"And that is the path we must follow if we are to bring Oderic to Beorn's hall."
Findegil seems troubled.
The company must first cross the Anduin. If they are on good terms with the Beornings of the village, they can be ferried across.
Otherwise, they must brave the river. The frantic current of the Anduin slows as it approaches the morass of the Gladden Fields, so a strong swimmer may be able to cross the water.
Or, you can return to the bridge at the Old Ford, this will take an extra 3 days of travel. Once across,
Amalina joins the others in canvassing the village, she ends up speaking to Helmgut's middle-aged neighbor, a woman who relishes the chance for a bit of conversation and sharing a bit of news or juicy gossip. She seems to take a bit of a liking to Amalina and Winter, especially after the big hound chases several crows from her spring garden.
They spend some time over a cup of tea discussing Oderic and the now tragic story between him, Helmgut, Brunhild, and Rathfic. After thanking the woman for the information she and Winter shares what she learned with Findegal and the others.
"We must be a bit wary of Helmgut, for according to his neighbor, for the man never actually liked Oderic. Certainly he took him in after the boy's father was killed, but it was only out of a sense of duty, not love. This lack of real love may have contributed to Oderic's being jealous of Rathfic when he arrived in the village." She says. Pausing for a moment to think if anything else the woman shared was of relevance. Finally she shakes her head, "I think that is all that is different or new from what you've already gathered."
Following Findegil and the others to Brunhild's, Amalina listens attentively to the woman's tale. Shaking her head at the seeming senselessness of it all, she does her best to offer her condolences when they leave.
She seems unusually quiet and internal as Findegil shares his thoughts on the situation. When he speaks of continuing their journey to track down the young man, she sighs heavily and nods. "Yes, we swore an oath to bring this man back, and we shall do so, however, my heart weighs heavy after hearing more of what transpired here. Yet, there is one person still we have not spoken with and that is Helmgut himself."
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Thorgrim listens to the tale of woe, then speaks to the group, unable to hold his tongue any longer.
"There! There, you see? By the woman's own mouth her husband STRUCK HER instead of listening to reason and sorting things out by talking. That ALONE puts proof to the defense that Rathfic started the combat, and Oderic was merely defending himself. To slay one who is trying to slay you is no crime in these lands!
We are not Easterlings that a woman can not have a male friend in her home, and by her account they were not...in flagrante delicto...they were not in a state of undress as would two cuckolds caught in the act.
They were just talking, and for that Rathfic bared steel. He voluntarily entered a Trial by Combat and was found wanting. Justice done I say.
Why are we persuing this man? Beorn wants justice done. So be it. A man killed another in self-defense, and then, when orcs killed his gaoler, he took up good steel and ran off. Who among us would do otherwise?
...
As to the path, if you would stay bound to this errand, I say we do not spend any silver that we do not have to. The bridge at the Old Ford will suffice."
Cereidh presses a hand to her mouth as she listens, looking between Thorgrim and Amalina. "I must admit, I'm inclined to agree with our fiery friend, but if it's ever been unwise to find all facets to a story before passing judgment, that's news to me."
"Have we got a clear enough picture of who Helmgut would respect, or should we simply throw the knight at him?"
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Thorgrim picks up a stone and CASTS it far, far away in frustration. "Gah! 'Tis unwise when orcs prowl the land freely and it will take who-knows how many days to track down a man that has already been punished. He has banished himself from his homeland. Do any here say that Beorn would be right in handing out any harsher a sentence.
But soft, friend Cereidh, you make a fair point. I shall beard that tiger in his lair. Mayhap the sweet words of Finbdegil will rube him wrongly. He may take the talk of a kin more closer raised more lightly. I shall return."
Thorgrim reappears an hour later later nursing a black eye and a bruised hand. "Aye, the old bear is as fierce a fighter as he is a drinking companion. He handled me roughly a-first, but after his venom was spewed we settled down to an understanding pint.
He adds no more to the tale. He arrived and saw the scene as we know, Oderic hovered over Rathfic's corpse and he dealt the lad a harsh blow in reflex. Now he is alone, and the last of his kin, his daughter, will not speak to him. But soft! I am now swayed more so, and I would council for Beoric to say all is forgiven, that Rathfic was the instigator here, and mayhap if Orderic returned to his home, there would be three souls happy where now there is but strife.
I would still say our time was better spent hunting the shadow, but I'll not be a stone about it."
Amalina listens to Thorgrim and nods in agreement in several places, but at the end she rubs her hands over her face and eyes while sighing deeply.
"I agree with you on many points." She says to the big Beorning. "Rathfic should have never struck Brunhild. Perhaps Brunhild could have done more to temper Oderic's devotion or infatuation. Certainly Rathfic should not have drawn steel if he didn't expect Oderic to defend himself."
"And yes...the young man appears to have exiled himself over the matter. Which many could consider the situation resolved." She pauses for a moment. Frowning at the ground of nothing in particular. "But it is not up to us to judge, that right is held by Beorn. And we've sworn to bring him back for trial, so that is what I must do. But much of what we've learned has me agreeing with Thorgrim. I do not believe Oderic is a puppet of the Shadow. a man of evil, or without redemption. I will certainly advocate for forgiveness from Beorn."
She looks around at the sad village. "This place cannot afford to loose a strong, young warrior. Orcs prowl the land again, the Shadow is stirring. If we can bring Oderic back and council Beorn to forgive his act of the moment, then Thorgrim may be right and the lad can rejoin the his people and help heal this village. By doing this we will have struck a true blow against the Shadow."
"That's very true, Amalina. And hopefully, avoid the - irritation of Beorn that we might invite by abandoning our duty."
"Then let us bring him back. He will find no fairer. Let us be off across the river, I shall ask about the boats", Findegil says.
Amalina hands the boatman six silver coins to pay for passage as Findegil convinces them that helping us on our way quickly would be better for everyone all around.
After crossing the river, Amalina and Winter, spend a few hours searching both up and down river for signs of Oderic's passing. Eventually Winter lets forth with a few sharp yips drawing Amalina and the rest of the party to where the big hound has found a boat abandoned along the shore. Looking similar to those found back in the village, Amalina assumes it is the one stolen by Oderic and points out the rather obvious trail leading further west.
"He doesn't seem to be doing much to cover his trail, so he must feel free of any worry of pursuit. Hopefully that will play in our favor to make pursuit easier and not simply draw other unwelcome attention to his trail." She says while striding along through the tall grasses in the late afternoon sun.
"Hopefully there'll be no killing involved, except if an orc should show their ugly face."
Amalina nods at Cereidh's comment. "Indeed. I've no intention of raising my blade against Oderic unless he chooses to play the fool a second time."
After a long day and with the spring sun angling low toward the snow capped peaks of the Misty Mountains, Amalina comes across a sheltered dell while seeking out a spot to camp for the night. It is immediately clear from the ashy remains of a previous campfire, that someone was here recently. That is comfirmed, when Winter paws at a broken knife blade tossed into the nearby grass. Picking up the blade she looks it over carefully and then hands it to Thorgrim.
"A Beorning blade I'd guess." She says to the big warrior. "Judging by the knicks near the tip and the description some of the men gave back at Beorn's, it would be the same as the one Odo used to carry. Would you agree?"
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"Aye. ....aye," Thorgrim says more in resignation than affirmation. Holding up the metal shard to catch the light, he says, "You can see by the waves along the edge. In my...travels...I've noticed that only the blades of my homeland are so crafted, 'tis a mark of second-best ore, and smiths that smelt of more heart and less skill. 'Twill still cut ya dead, but they can snap if ya do not care for them softly."
He tosses the scrap away, scanning the ground.
"The tracks go off in that direction, sure. We'll be upon him overlong, I'd wager."
Your company is one down, as the hobbit Gombedo stayed at Stonyford, so Findegil is alone in the role as Lookout.
You are hot on the trail of Oderic.
Once again Winter leads the way, nose to the ground and easily tracking Oderic through the rolling grasslands. Amalina follows the big hound setting an easy pace as the weather continues to be dry and pleasant. As the near the boundary of the western wood, Winter lets out a quick bark and begins to work a large clearing. As Amalina and the party approach, she quickly points out the signs of a recent battle. She picks up a broken spear and then tosses it aside.
"It's clear there was a battle here recently." She spends several minutes trying to learn more but then shakes her head in frustration. "Things are too muddled for me to make out what happened. But it does appear to have been a single warrior against several others."
Findegil stands back, so as not to muddy the tracks.
"I can tell little more than Amalina. No bodies, or remains of one. So if someone died here, they were not left."
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"Hmmm. Let me see what I can learn. I have seen my fair share of battlefields, so my eye might glean something."
"Aye, see here? An inner circle trampled, then grass untouched, then around it a larger trampled circle? One man stood against many. But not enough blood stains the grass for a kill. The one man was disarmed, perhaps, or struck senseless.
Then here, two deep depressions apart from each other? The survivors was made to kneel. But since there is not the blood splatter of a severed head, it means they did not execute him, but tied him.
Three tracks, two on the outside normal, the one inner long and deep. Two men leading a struggling prisoner. They marched," Thorgrim points North, "to Gladden Fields."
Nodding and watching as Thorgrim points out his thoughts on the battle, Amalina takes careful note. "You've a solid eye, Thorgrim." She says. "I've less experience in battlefields with many combatants and seeing the back and forth flow with so many factors. Often under the eaves of Mirkwood, there are fewer, but more deadly foes to track and hunt."
"So it seems our prisoner has been taken prisoner, but by whom?" She asks rhetorically while looking toward the settling sun. "We are not far behind and there is still some light left. I don't relish setting camp and falling to an ambush as Oderic did. Shall we muster our strength and hurry on before nightfall?"
"Good eyes, Thorgrim, and better sense! Gladden Fields, eh? Our former companion Mal said he would be that way. Regardless, we have a direction and no time to waste!"
You finally arrives at the eaves of the forest north of Gladden Fields in the early afternoon on the sixth day from leaving Stonyford.
Moving quietly into the forest Amalina scouts the rather obvious trail left by whoever captured Oderic. As the grasslands give way to the eaves of the forest, the Woodwoman feels a certain sense of homecoming as she and Winter move through the shaded forest floor. At first she moves easily through the tall trees, but after a little while a frowns mars her features as she stops to listen every so often. Quickly catching up to Winter who is busy sniffing at the stumps of several recently cut trees, she gently places a hand on the hound's shoulder and signals him to follow her back to the main party.
"We're close." She says in a quiet voice, with a signal for the others to be wary. "The trail is heavily traveled just ahead and this part of the forest seems to have been hunted clean. They've been cutting wood as well." She adds with a frown before continuing. " For fires I think, although the green wood likely does little to keep them warm at night.
"They're clearly not any of my people, for none would treat the wood this poorly. Possibly men from the south, judging from some of the boot prints and the colorings on this bit of cloak I found hanging torn on a branch. Can't tell how many, but based on the earlier battle site and what I can see now, at least equal to our number up to maybe a dozen or so." She adds that last bit with a skeptical shrug as she rumples the torn cloth in her hand.
A pregnant minute after Amalina concludes, a hobbit appears essentially out of nowhere about 20 feet from you. He wears autumnal traveling gear of spun cloth and crudely cured furs with a traveling cloak of mottled green and brown over a backpack.
In contrast to the round, cheery faces of Shire Hobbits, this hobbit is gaunt and serious. His wide, wild eyes of flint gray are sharp and untrusting. His face is hairless while the top of his head and feet sport dark brown hair. His weapon’s harness carries a short sword, a sturdy dagger, a short bow, and quiver of arrows.
"Actually, there's a camp in there of closer to a hundred strangers to the Wilderland." The hobbit offers.
"Hey, Findegil and Cereidh. You're a long way from the Inn. What brings you near Gladden Fields? And who're your new friends?"
"Greetings, Mal! Well, we couldn't stay there /forever/, now could we? We've been making friends here and there, and one of them has been Beorn; we've been tracking a fugitive for him, although it's looking less and less likely that bringing the man back would actually serve justice."
"Amalina here is our Woodswoman - and a damn clever tracker. Good taste in companions, too. I mean the hound Winter, not Thorgrim here." She grins impishly. "Though if his bite is half as fierce as his bark we'll be glad to have him ere long."
"And, to say - glad to see you here, too. Any particular reason, or just for the beauty of the place?"
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Thorgrim opens his mouth and puts his hand on his heart. "You wound me, sweet Ceredith! That hurts me.
It hurts me--on the inside."
Then he breaks into a hearty laughter and slaps her playfully on the shoulder. "Hahaha! Though I can be as willy as a wolf, ha!"
He turns to the hobbit. "Well met! What did she call you? Mal, is it? Well, any friend, as they say."
His visage turns grim. "A hundred you say? Were it merely half so many I would wade into them, singing a merry tune, pleased to rid the world of such an abundance of bottom-feeders. But such a mass as that, even my arm would tire afore falling gloriously.
Findegil? What say you? Have you honey in your tongue enough to talk our wayward Oderic from their clutches?
If not, we can make our way back to Beorn with heads held high, and give him our tale. He would not hold it against us for returning from such a star-crossed mission. If he wants to give us a score of death-dealers we could return here and cleanse the banditry from the fold.
But otherwise, I'll not risk my neck to re-claim an outlaw from another bunch of outlaws. They are as like to see us as lawmen and come at us with steel out of fear that their secret is out, and we mean to do in deed what I just detailed.
I am for either way, so what say all of you?"
Findegil smiles to see the hobbit.
"Mal! It is good to see you. Even with your news of a hundred or so brigands. Battling that many...perhaps we could do it. But I think we should try using either quiet feet or honeyed tongue. I am willing to try the latter, for I have no skill at the former. And if worst comes to worst, I shall build ramparts with their dead before the end.", he finishes with a grim grin.
Amalina slowly lowers her axe and signals Winter that all is well once it becomes clear that Cereidh and the others know the hidden hobbit who appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
"Greetings to you Master Hobbit." She says offering a quick bow of her head. While the others catch up and contemplate strategies, Amalina keeps an eye out for patrols or hunting parties from the bandit camp. Eventually she offers her own thoughts.
"There is one other option." She says. "Given the evidence before our eyes, these men are clearly not used to the woods. Likely they go crashing about with little or no care, and they likely feel safe and secure. Perfect rabbits for a set of well laid ambushes." We pauses to listen for a moment, hearing nothing, she continues. "We could easily whittle the numbers down one foraging party at a time. Not only will this reduce their numbers, but it will begin to strike fear in their hearts." She ruffles Winter on the neck and smiles at the big hound. "A few howls from Winter during the dark of night after friends have gone missing will have them thinking the Dark One himself is knocking on their doorstep. Eventually we reduce the numbers down to a more...manageable amount and attack, or then we seek an audience with their leader while they are in a weakened state."
She pauses and gives Thorgrim a mischievous grin. "Imagine being able to return to Beorn, not with just an escaped prisoner, but a tale and the glory of having rid his land of a hundred or more bandits. Bandits he did not even know existed mere days from his own house."
"I won't flee from a grim fight, but neither do I fancy falling before my time if I can avoid it. As for what use I can provide to avoid it, - Amalina's plan, I think, is best suited to my skills." She twirls an arrow between her fingers demonstratively.
"I've been watching this camp for a tenday. Followed one of their patrols from near Gladden Fields here."
"One of their patrols captured a teen Beorning a couple days ago. Then, their leader returned his sword to him. He now walks around camp." Mal offers.
Amalina frowns at the added news from Mal. "Hmmmm...if Oderic has fallen in with these men, it may be harder to get him to come along peaceably." She lets out a long frustrated breath. "I think we should at least try to get a little closer to the camp and see...well...what we can see. Perhaps captured a prisoner?" She says. "Right now there are too many unknowns. Obviously these men can't be planning anything good, hiding out as they are. They could very well be agents of the Shadow, and if so, I'll not stand by and let them hatch plans against the Free People of of the Vale."
"What else could they be?" Cereidh murmurs to herself.
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"Alright, wait. Let us start with what we know and start small.
We know that your friend Mal is able to watch them at will, and without detection, else he could not have watched them for a tenday without notice.
And we know that they send out small patrols, all the better for them to spread out and gather in resources, either hunted or stolen.
What say we have Mal continue his watch, and when they next send out a patrol, he comes and tells us, and then we hunt -them-.
They might be meandering, whereas we will move with a purpose, and then can catch them.
We try to take at least one alive, and ask him of their disposition and nature, more specifically of our friend Oderic.
From there, with words from horse's mouth, we can make new plans.
How is that?"
”All the better if we should be able to capture Oderic the first time, hm?”
"That sounds like a reasonable start." Amalina says with a nod to Thorgrim as she moves off the main trail to a suitable spot for the party to hide and wait for word from the hobbit.
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Thorgrim nods, glad that they finally have a plan of action.
He turns to their common friend Mal. "Do you understand what we need of you? The next time they send out some body of men, I don't care for what, forage or highway robbery, come and tell us, and we shall overtake them.
Can you do this?"
Assuming that Mal is amenable, and, the hobbit having displayed his kinship with the others, there was no reason to think not, Thorgrim joins the others and tries to make a campsite that is both comfortable and hidden well enough.
He prided himself on his ability to find a good campsite -literally- anywhere. Time to put that to the test.
"Right. So, I'll tell you when a patrol gets close. Get ready." the wild hobbit replies and disappears into the grass.
Cereidh helps Thorgrim with any busywork that there might be and then sets herself on a rock or stump, counting her arrows and thinking to herself; how to procure Oderic without slaying him in the attempt?
Amalina also helps get the camp set up. Once things are in order she spends a little time scouting out the nearby area for signs of the bandits as well as potential ambush sites in case they should come toward the camp.
Having found a couple of good sites and no sign of trouble she and Winter return to camp and settle in to wait for the hobbit to return. She sharpens each of her hunting arrows, running the whetstone carefully along each metal tip until it gleams brightly in the evening light. As she does so, she turns to Cereidh, Findegal, and Anar. "So how did you come to know this hobbit who appears and disappears into the woods? It is not often the little folk are so adept at woodcraft."
"When King Bard - King Bard! - honored us by sending us after rumors of the Shadow, he introduced us to his - honored acquaintance Mal, here. Mal helped guide us through my home the Greenwood." She grins and shrugs gracefully. "He's quiet. I'll just assume his backstory is properly dramatic."
"Aye, Mal is quiet. But he is also determined and very capable indeed."
Turning to the halfling, he adds:
"I know not how you acquired such skill. But I am glad of it all the same."