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Hobwise stands stoically, still covered in the dead man's blood, as circumstances provided for no alternative. He's short, so perhaps no one will notice.
At Giles insistence of a "hero's burial," he purses his lips. It was clear to the hobbit that no one in town much liked the young man. A fool's burial would be more likely, in which case they should have taken care of it themselves and not carted his torn flesh back to town.
What's done is done.
*************
Findegil is taken somewhat aback by Giles' proposal of a "hero's burial". Allowing as little inflection to depart his lips as possible, the knight adds his say.
"Good folk, we brought his remains to you so that you may decide their fate in accordance with your wishes and traditions."
Gasps and exclamations of surprise echo throughout the hall as Wulfgith reveals the body to those gathered. Alward's brow furrows into a puzzled frown while the princess raises a hand to her mouth. Lord Walduccus stares at the body and then back to the companions, clearly ill at ease.
"Surely you have made a mistake." The old lord says. "This was a simple lovesick boy who overstepped his place. He certainly wasn't a deadly hunter who could evade or overpower my best warriors."
He turns to Giles, hand gripping and ungripping the hilt of his sword in agitation. "While your words are quite eloquent, they make little sense. If this is the cause of our problems, then he is nothing more than a thief and murderer and deserves no honor at all." He adds, eyes glowing angrily in the lamplight. "And if that is the case where is his clever disguise? For I have seen the tracks of the killer, they are large, animal prints. And the wounds caused by tooth and claw, not clean steel." He shakes his head waving down assistance from his wife as he moves around the cart.
"Yet, if this boy is not the cause of our troubles, then why does he lie here before me dead?" He looks at each of you. "Do you mistake him for the creature in the dark. An accident is understandable and surely the boy wasn't supposed to be anywhere near here. We all heard the great howl of the beast and how it instilled fear in the hearts and minds of all. Did one of you strike out in the dark out of fright?" He asks. "There is no shame in such a thing, it happens."
"But to cover up such a mistake by claiming this is the beast that has terrorized our village for months. The victim of a curse? What is this curse, what is it's source?" He shakes his head, as the others gathered around shift about nervously.
Cereidh's eyes hood and she shifts a little on her feet, suppressing a flare of temper at these ignorant young humans' disbelief of things beyond their personal experience. She knows that Wulfgith's honest courage or Giles' clever reading has a better chance of convincing them of the existence of the curse than her own age, however, and waits to throw what respect she might have as an elf behind their own statements.
"Giles, will you please show them what we found." Wulfgith requested before she looked back to the people. "We believe he came across this while out in the wilds after he left." She explained. "I ask that you not touch it with the bare hand. For we don't know if it is skin contact or what, but when he changed back it was on him."
"I wish it was as you ask, that one of us struck out in the dark. I am no stranger to admitting failure, but I wouldn't dare lie about something like this. Not when he was so important to your daughter, and not when this creature delivered such carnage to your people. This thing he found, this relic of older days, fed upon his anger. It twisted him into something else, he was nolonger human my Lord."
Wulfgith stepped back an showed the wounds that hadn't yet healed on Swiftkiss. "A mortal doesn't do this my Lord. These wounds are from the beast we ran down and felled... And when it fell that, was the body that it returned to." Wulfgith motioned from her steed to the body on the cart. "I'm sorry. I am. But what we bring to you is the truth. I dare not give those who have suffered so much anything else." Wulfgith said, as there was no more she could offer. The truth was the truth, though she knew it was hard to accept at time.
Findegil steps forward, doing his best to keep his composure under slights against his fellowship's honour.
"Lord, events transpired as my companions have stated. I saw the monster die before me...and shrink back into that corpse. Fell magic is imbued in that golden circlet. We will bring it to Lord Elrond and seek his counsel on how best to destroy it."
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Hobwise closes his eyes and tastes the boy's blood on his lips, that iron sick. Men are so incapable of nuance. Of course they would charge the company with murdering a boy. And then to bring the cursed amulet into this chamber and allow them to gaze upon it and hear the whispers... He had heard the whispers during his march to Dol Guldur. No one should be exposed to such evil. No, this was a mistake.
We could have just said we slayed the beast and burnt its body, and none would have been the wiser. The attacks would have stopped and the townsfolk could be thankful for our effort. We could have said it was the beast that killed the boy, and they would have believed it and grieved and healed. We could have said the boy helped us to slay it, and he would have been redeemed. He snaps back to the tension of the room. Did he really just think that? To lie is better than to tell the truth? It wasn't like him to think such things. But was he wrong?
No, his instincts were right. He should have challenged Wulfgith's plan earlier. Now the boy's family must bear the knowledge that it was their son, by his own foolishness, that menaced the village night after night. Or else believe that we murdered an innocent, and the beast lives still. We may be lucky to flee this town without further bloodshed.
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"My Lord, your questions are quite reasonable, but I swear it was as we say. You may, if you wish, send your best trackers to view the site our our battle, and see if they doubt that there was a beast we slew...or ask your finest healer to examine the wounds I bandaged on Master Hornblower and on Wulfgith's horse, and see if they came from aught but a beast's great claws. I believe the facts will speak for themself.
"As one of your stature is no doubt aware, there are foul relics about in the countryside, that may corrupt even the strongest among us. When the beast died and regained the boy's form, it had about its neck such a relic. Perhaps the boy was searching for some treasure to offer, to aid his young and foolish quest for the princess' hand? I know not, but somewhere he must have found it.
"I wrapped it up to take to Master Elrond, for he alone is likely to know what to do with it. As I approached it--even taking care not to touch it with my skin--I could feel it whispering lies to me. It has the Witch-King's magic about it, I fear. I don't intend to take it out again except in the presence of the Lord of Rivendell, for fear that it would allow that beast to take over someone else's body.
Giles glances briefly from Walduccus to Wulfgith as he speaks. Surely she's not trying to get the Lord to come close to it? No, more likely she doesn't understand its power.
"If you feel you must check our word, I will understand--for the tale we tell is both sad and strange--but after you have done so I'm confident you will find that we have done what you and Lord Elrond have asked of us, and have succeeded."
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Did one of you strike out in the dark out of fright?"[/b]
Thorgrim maintained his silent vigil. Many were talking, and he knew what they would say, so he knew to not bother with adding more chaff to the wind.
But as the lord begins flinging accusations...that is a thing not to be tolerated. A man might know madness were it his own son on the field of dead. But this is not the case.
"It is as Giles says it is.
And my lord will show wisdom to cleave to his words...and show a civil tongue.
If you persist in accusing those you asked for help of murder and...cowardice...."
His right foot steps back. To even his weight.
"I would defend against such. In The Circle.
Do we have an understanding?"
Challenges to one's honor is a slippery slope. If one were to let one slip...for reasonable reasons, of course...then 'tis all too easy to see past another, and then another, and then?
Anything worth having is worth defending.
Cereidh observes the spiraling tension in the room, heartened by Wulfgith and Findegil's honesty and vigor, but suspecting that speaking of things beyond these peoples' experience and knowledge will not carry the day through their confusion, embarrassment, and grief.
Well. Her own back-up plan - to invoke her heritage and long life, with much room for strange things - invokes yet more strangeness in a human hall.
She wonders if there's a clearer path through this encounter.
"Be at ease Beorning." Alward says. His voice firm and controlled. "Surely a Lord is allowed to ask questions and consider all possibilities within his own house and regarding the demise of one who formerly dwelt within these walls. No murder was charged."
Walduccus holds up an interrupting hand. "Enough Alward. I've no intention of being drawn into the circle with a man half my age or more. Nor do I wish any more to die this night." His eyes linger on Thorgrim for a moment and then simply dismisses the warrior turning back to Giles and the others.
"I hear the ring of truth in what you say. Yet, you speak of tales and magics that have long ago faded from this land. A boy cursed by some ancient object. A token of that ancient evil from Angmar." He pauses in thought giving an opening to his daughter.
The young princess gazes sadly down at the fallen boy. "Father. If what they say is true, then am I responsible for Othlaf's death? If you and I hadn't spurned him, perhaps he would not have sought riches and discovered this dark artifact." Tears start to drip down her cheek and it is easy to see a weight and burden descending upon her shoulders.
The old Lord frowns, puts and arm around his daughter. "What you say is not so my daughter. True, he may have set out on this test, but only he was responsible for whether he should pass or fail."
He turns to Giles and points to an empty part of the table. "I would see this thing. This item of mystery you say corrupted the boy. You are likely right, it is best in Elrond's hands, but I would look upon it first. Both to know it in case others are ever found and in case I can aide in discovering its origin. My forefathers were granted this land after battling those ancient hordes of the north and I've some knowledge of the enemy they once fought."
Hobwise shakes out of his fit of simmering emotion. "Angmar!" He charges forward, hand on the hilt of his sword. His earlier, unspoken suspicions about Walduccus returned to the fore of his thoughts.
"Hold, Giles. None here said anything about that evil place. What do you know of it, m'lord, and why invoke it now?" His tone is accusatory. No, the boy would not have come across such an artifact on his own, and this man had motive.
"Lord, I too would learn what you know of that realm and its works.", adds Findegil, further perturbed by where this draining conversation may lead.
For the moment, Giles stands still, hoping not to need to refuse an order from a Lord in his own house.
Hobwise straightens, knowing that Findegil has his back. He releases his sword and extracts the pipe from his satchel, carefully packs the bowl, and lights it with a flick of flint against steel. Several deep puffs later and he has perfumed the room with cherry, clover, and jasmine. He stands at the center of the chamber, addressing the townsfolk.
"Before we left, Alswintha, you gave Wulfgith a bag to bring to Olthaf, should we find. Him .We have found him. Wulfgith, if you would, please reveal the contents of that bag."
Wulfgith raise an eyebrow at Hobwise's request, however she did pick up the bag the princess had given her, which she had laid upon the young man, and opened it carefully to ensure the items would spill out but would be seen with ease for those around them.
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Thorgrim prepared a spear of venom for Alward, pointing out how the danger of 'just asking questions' could harm one's honor, and was ready to lead with: "Alward, are you still beating your wife? I'm just asking questions."
But then he was becalmed by the words of Walduccus, in that it was as close to an apology as any strain of nobility was like to give and he thought the matter dropped.
He had begun to mentally steel himself to allow the bauble to be shown--for he thought himself inured to more evil than one medallion could summon, especially as he had seen its work--but as the half-man charges forward and begins throwing out wild accusations...his bon homme for the nobility evaporated, and he settled in to see the game played out.
If Hobwise was right, then he got to watch a king squirm. If he was wrong, then the hobbit will be the laughingstock of all the court, and he'd have fodder to shame him for years.
It was winning all 'round.
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Hobwise continues as Wulfgith reveals whatever trinket is in the bag.
"A single man arrives to Rivendell, the only man dispatched. His tale was one of incredible desperation. Everything seemed to hinge on his success. But anyone who has traveled that long road knows its dangers. One lone man.
"It would be easy to accept that was all that could be spared. The town needed what few warriors remain to defend the livestock, the fields, and good people who have lived this nightmare for a fortnight. But so wide was the chasm of failure, and what of it? The beast would lay waste to this proud town. We fought it. I killed it. I know. In your prime, Lord Walduccus, you may have stood up to such a creature. Perhaps with your brave, capable son by your side.
"But here you sit before us, and this last winter was very hard. Now, with the prospect of a late spring and a culled herd, the year ahead, even with the fiend destroyed, will be a struggle. Do you expect you'll survive it, m'lord?
"When we first arrived, I thought it strange how everyone asked about Wistan, as if his survival was the greater concern than the beast itself. And then I saw how you were barely able to rise; surely that sword has vanquished many foes, but it rests now, until taken up by another. Yet, you sent your son, your only male heir, alone into the darkness. That he succeeded is an immense credit. But you must have feared he would not, and yet you sent him anyway.
"So if Wistan were to have failed, and worse, succumbed to the terrors of the wilderland, who would become the Lord of this land upon your passing? A paramount concern for any man in your position. Olthaf must have seemed a threat to you, for if he were to take your daughter's hand he would have claim to your title. And he was not worthy. So you set a fair bride price, for your daughter is lovely and a Lady of the land, but a price few men in the Angle could afford. Olthaf possessed the hard-headedness of youth, and he would not be easily turned away. Perhaps the love of the Lady compelled him to at least try, though by her own word, he did not have the mettle to win her rightly.
"And so we come to the beacon towers of the ancient kingdoms. Razed by the Witch-King of Angmar itself, if the legend is true. In the travels of my companions, we have witnessed that what was once lost may be found, and a thing that is of great power can rarely be forever hidden. Such was the story of the artifact which Giles now holds.
"Now, say the truth and spare embellishment, for we have fought and bled to free the curse which beset this town, and we deserve to know it. Was it Olthaf who stumbled upon this prize of evil, or was it you? Were you compelled to send Wistan out of a sense of guilt? Were you trying to eliminate the boy or buy him off, seeing him unfit for your daughter's hand, only to see your plan consume the town and wreathe it in pestilence?"
Alward and guard move in to block the hobbit's path as he initially charges forward hand upon the hilt of his blade. The old lord simply raises an eyebrow while his daughter steps back gasping in surprise.
Genuinely puzzled Walduccus listens to the hobbit's suspicions his frown growing deeper and deeper as the short warrior continues. A raised hand forestalls the grumbling among his men as more hands move toward swords and shift to step between him and those of the fellowship.
Closing his eyes, the man takes a breath to calm himself and then replies to the accusations issued by Hobwise.
"First, did they teach you nothing as a whelp growing up in these lands." He stabs a finger at Giles. "Your own companion stated some ancient item that draws upon the power of the Witch King was found. Since ancient Angmar was the land ruled by that particular evil and once ravaged this land multiple times, it stands to reason such an artifact would be of that land."
He stands bit taller, eyes burning with a fire some may have imagined long since extinguished. "As I said, my ancestors fought that ancient evil. Helped drive it from these lands and were rewarded for their honorable and fierce showing in those mighty battles. Perhaps residents of the Shire do not keep things from their families past, but here we do. The Lords of this house have kept a journals since those dark days of the fallen north until now. By knowing this item, there may be knowledge within the records to help identify its nature."
He pauses, staring hard at those gathered in the room and then reaches a hand out to grip his daughters. "As for your rather bold and unworthy accusations about my engineering this entire situation, it is complete nonsense."
"First, my son is a hard headed, stubborn lad who seeks to prove himself at every turn." He shakes his head and glances at Alward. "All here know it. And know there was no talking the boy out of taking that journey. The only option was to put him in iron and that would not look well upon the future lord of this house. So I let him go and prayed for his return. I feared for his life that is certain and so did his friends and companions since childhood. So concern was expressed when you arrived. I see no shame in that."
"As for Othlaf...." He says looking upon the body with a mix of sadness and acceptance. "The boy was no threat to me or my house. He was also not suitable to be my daughters husband." He looks to the young princess who eventually nods her head gently. "I did not wish it to become known for Alswintha's sake and because she convinced me there was good within the boy."
He leans forward, resting his fist upon the table, eyes glaring at Hobwise. "You see he struck my daughter one evening. A slap because she had spoken her mind about a possible trade he was planning with the Dunlanders to the south." He turns back and puts an arm around Alswintha. "When she told me of this, I reacted as any father would and nearly ordered him put to the blade. At Alswintha's request I relented and ordered him exiled instead. Surely that was my mistake and weakness. I had known the boy his entire life and hoped he would learn manners, honor, and responsibility out in the world. Alas, such was not his fate and perhaps even then he was under the influence of this curse."
"Finally as for my daughter's gift..." He gestures toward the table. "Show them."
Alswintha steps forward and pours the contents of the pouch onto the table. A handful of silver, copper and brass coins along with a simple silver ring engraved with a pair of intertwined horse heads whose manes flow around the ring.
"I wanted to give him something to see him off." She says, wiping a few tears from her cheek. "What he did was wrong and I didn't know why he lashed out like that. I couldn't marry him. Didn't want to any more. But we'd known each other all our lives. I still cared and wished him to have something on his journey."
Walduccus steps back in. "The ancient towers are places of sorrow and darkness. Places that are best avoided. If Othlaf found this cursed item within those ancient ruins, that is not of my doing, but his own."
He folds his arms and leans back. The tension in the room is high as those gathered look back upon the members of the fellowship with a mixture of respect for ending the immediate threat of the beast and concern and anger over the accusations made against their lord.
Hobwise recoils at the inconsistencies and half-truths. At least he got the old man to stand up and address him properly. "Do not presume to speak of the Shire. If I have been ignorant it is because you have not been forthcoming, and I will not stand here accused of speculation when you have given us little else to go on. This company arrived to your hamlet after a long, dangerous journey, and we have dealt with your problem because we were asked to, and for no other reason. All I asked for is the truth, the whole of it, in payment for the rendered service. Your thankless disrespect and tepid acceptance of the facts of this incident belies the as-of-yet hidden truths. No matter, we have done what we pledged to do here, and unless you intend to either dispel all doubts or further interrogate us, we shall take our leave. And though the artifact is not in my possession, I urge my companion not to allow anyone to lay eyes on it for any reason."
Findegil pierces the pregnant silence.
"We should consult with this record of times past. It may shed light on what darkness lurks in that bauble."
Cereidh shifts slightly on her feet, deeply uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. "Perhaps an engraving of the thing, taken by its current keeper, might suffice? Or at least add to the Lord Walduccus' lore of nearby dangers, without giving the artifact too much leash?"
Giles holds his breath throughout the tense exchange. Then summons his courage and says, "My Lord, we have had a harrowing evening: tracking, being attacked by, and finally slaying a strange beast...and then discovering, to our sadness, that the beast was a man known to you in the grips of a curse. If we speak out of turn, please, forgive us. If further conversation can hold until the morrow, I think a good night's rest would be best for all involved."
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Thorgrim was enjoying the back-and-forth. It turned out -both- of them were squirming. So a good time was to be had all around.
Until.
Until fools who thought themselves brave but hand to hilt and moved into position they thought strong.
Any attempt to cage Thorgrim was like blood in the water to a shark. Just as a good name needed tending, so too did fools need to be reminded of their place in things.
But that was not all.
From the moment he heard it, that the boy had STRUCK the girl...and then been allowed to live?
Thorgrim had no daughters, but his own rough chivalry for the softer sex could not imagine him, king, having his girl-child struck for simply giving voice to thought, and then living with himself if the boy was walking on the same dirt as him and breathing the same air.
He could bear it no longer.
"The FIRST man to bare STEEL will see his HEART'S BLOOD upon this very FLOOR!" he shouts, his head bent down as if seeing crimson stains upon it. "And ANY who BAR our WAY will KNOW a SWIFT DEATH."
"YOU, O king, are weak for having left a head still ride attached to the body that struck a defenseless woman for NO. CRIME.
All honor you had, left when you allowed the boy to leave thy walls.
That he came back to make you pay for thy failing is but proof of thy judgement.
As thy hath made a pattern of allowing important things to go from thy sight, so too will the artifact go WITHOUT thy leave. THAT is thy PENANCE.
Our business here is done," he says with finality.
Unwilling to be forced into another moment sharing this COWARD'S roof, he turns and heads out.
O, and woe betide any who bar him.
Wulfgith just shook her head as everything slowly fell apart. No one person could be a fault here. While yes Walduccus' choice to banish the man over putting him to the sword allowed him the chance to even be able to find this evil artifact of old, the fact he found it wasn't the Lord's fault.
"Enough." Wulfgith spoke as she stepped up. The rider removed her helm, holding it against her hip in order to expose her full face. A sign of respect as she was removing a piece of armor to expose a part of herself, and also a way to hopefully keep this from escalating any further. "Most of those here, save myself and Hobwise, ran the creature down the whole time. I was lucky enough to have Swiftkiss and Hobwise was the lightest among the group to also be carried upon my mare without straining her further. We are worn from combat, and the fresh knowledge that the one who was hurting this place so was one of your own corrupted and twisted." She spoke, her tone firm but not degrading. "When we explained what happened, brought the body back, you Lord Walduccus chose to accuse us of mistakenly murdering the boy. I was kind when you ask this, because losing one of your own to such a thing is a devastation. But your instant assumption was just that. Even when we explained what happened, curse and all, you didn't want to believe. Even when you knew what dangers laid out there, the fact that the boy you banished for justified reasons, came back with just a item twisted was out of your thought." Wulfgith said.
"Hobwise, while I approve of your picking up on the fact they did not tell us everything, you went off far too harshly upon them for it." Wulfgith said with a shake of her head as she looked at Lord Walduccus "After all it is hard to admit ones mistakes." However she let that part of the conversation end there.
She then motioned for the others to allow Thorgrim to leave, his anger was understandable. If Wulfgith had a daughter and anyone, even one she knew, laid a hand upon her child that had would be gone before any other form a justice could be passed. "Thorgrim's ways may not be your own." She said to the Lord and his daughter. "Yet I cannot say some of his words are without merit. He was cruel in his tone and choice of words, however he is... in a way right." Wulfgith informed them. "Every judgement you make Lord Walduccus does have a consequence..." Wulfgith moved her helm to be held in between her hands as she looked at it. "We cannot always predict what that consequence will be. But we must be willing to live with it when it comes back." Her voice broke a bit, and her eyes where watery. A long shaky sigh pasted her lips as she spoke once more, "Bury your dead, in however way you feel. He was a criminal, and he was a victim. He died for his crime, after being twisted into something else. It doesn't absolve him but any means."
"Hobwise, Cereidh, Giles, Findegil, we have finished our task. This Hamlet is safe once more. While I'd prefer to try and allow Giles time to find the artifact in the journals that Lord Walduccus spoke of, I do not believe we should remain here any longer. We shall return to Rivendell and hand it over to Lord Elrond to be properly taken care of." Wulfgith said as she removed the cart from Swiftkiss. "I know you are all so tired, and I am sorry to ask this of you, to walk the remainder of this night and make camp elsewhere. But I fear we have little other choice... I'll watch you all through the night." Wulfgith promised.
Hobwise is indeed tired. Too tired to continue to be treated like a child by Wulfgith, a person he hardly knows and cannot quite figure out. In his mind, it was Wulfgith that caused this situation by ignoring the hobbit's advice and insisting the body be returned. He walks out of the hall in Thorgrim's wake.
"Eh, Thorgrim, got any more of that sweet mead? What do you say we get drunk and forget about this place?"
Findegil says nothing.
There is nothing to add.
He does make a point of being the last to leave the hall, just in case one of the villagers attempts foolishness. He aims to use his shield to block in that eventuality.
The old lord sinks back into his chair, the long years clearly showing upon his face and manner as Thorgrim stomps from the hall followed soon enough by Hobwise and eventually the rest of the fellowship. He waves away any further attempted conversation and instead sinks into his own thoughts. Alward sees to the boys body, while Alswintha and her mother disappear back into their chambers. The remaining eyes of the other village folk watch warily as the hardened warriors of the fellowship depart under a cloud of angry words and accusations cast against their leader. A few express quiet thanks as Wulfgith and the others pass, but most simply return to the homes to await the rising sun and a new day.
The purple gray of early morning lights the sky by the time the village disappears behind the nearest rise. Having returned to the road with little rest, the journey back to Rivendell looks to be a solemn slog.
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"That, Hobwise, is the wisest words that were ever said."
He goes to his saddlebags and withdraws a skin and a cloth pouch. The skin of course is the strong mead-wine that was sampled earlier. The pouch contains a stand of firm and tasty honey-cakes the Beornings are famous for.
He takes out a like pair for himself, thumbs off the stopper, and raises his hand high to the halfling in toast.
"May we all be alive at this same time next year!"
And he drank.
Until there was no more to drink.
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Thorgrim was a happy drunk.
'A gourmet dining at Crewe
Found a rather large mouse in his stew.
Said the waiter, "Don't shout
And wave it about,
Or the rest will be wanting one, too.'
That is a vast understatement.
'There was an old drunkard of Devon,
Who died and ascended to Heaven
But he cried, this is Hades-
There are no naughty ladies,
And the pubs are all shut by eleven.'
It seemed that, astride his horse, the thinner the wineskin got, the louder and merrier Thorgrim was. As mile was chased by yet another mile, it seemed that for every ounce of anger he had shown while sober, it was met and replaced by a pound of wild, gregarious joy.
'There was a young lady of Lynn,
Who was so uncommonly thin
That when she essayed
To drink lemonade
She slipped through the straw and fell in.'
Throughout all the journey he leads the group (or so he thinks, whether he does or not) in round after round of baudy song, rhymes and limericks. Though his songs last the whole time, never does he repeat one (save by request) and never does he miss a beat, no matter the coarseness of the road.
'When the world’s dressed up in their green
The brightest colors that you have seen
They are drinking good cheer
With green colored beer
It’s not dirty though, it’s clean'
It seems the court they had left was like a great dark weight and, now with its lifting, his spirit soars with the promise the future might bring without such fetters.
'There once was an old man of Esser,
Whose knowledge grew lesser and lesser,
It at last grew so small
He knew nothing at all
And now he's a college professor.'
"That tower...I say we detour by it, and ensure that it is not a haunt of forces of Shadow. Then we return to Rivendell."
Cereidh is quiet and grey as a ghost as they depart, mouth set in a thin and almost venomous line, eyes glittering like river-rocks. She does not share her thoughts, and chooses to ride nearer by Wulfgith than the rest of the company.
Her shoulders rise and set a little as Thorgrim initially sets to singing, like a scholar in the middle of a dreary work broken in upon by a lively child. After some minutes of this - Thorgrim not one to be parted from his joys by someone's unstated disapproval - her shoulders lower again. She does not cheer, but some of the venom of her manner is sapped, and simple exhaustion seeps grey and watery into the vacancy thus made.
She tilts her head at Findegil's suggestion. "It's a noble thought, but for myself, I am not so sure I am the equal of an unexpected briar patch right now. Much less the embedded and unexpected forces of Shadow."
With Burhscilda left behind beyond the horizon, the fellowship spends the next evening drinking, singing, and recovering a bit of strength after the previous nights events and debating whether to return to Rivendell or seek out the possible source of the ancient artifact discovered upon the body of the hapless Othlaf. Eventually it is decided to see in the former tower of the old northern lords holds any clues or further dangers to the peace in Eriador.
The following morning the spring sun rises warm, with a warm wind blowing out of the south. Unusual, but not unheard of during this time of year. Knowing the ancient tower lies east of the village, Thorgrim turns the fellowship off the remnants of the old road and heads out across the wild, rolling plains of the Angle. The big warrior sets a quick but manageable pace as he guides the party along one narrow game trail to another.
The sun is warm and refreshing after the long winter months and during this time of year the plain is awash in color as spring flowers bloom and the bright green of new grass replaces the dreary browns and yellows of winter. Hundreds of short lived ponds and lakes fill dips, bowls and low points among the hills. These attract birds, deer, rabbits, and other wild game. Unfortunately the warmer weather and abundant water also brings out the insects. From flies to nats to the every travelers bane, mosquitoes. Great clouds of the biting insects fill the air come evening. Their humming wings a constant irritant as they seek any bit of exposed flesh to quench their hunger for blood.
Findegil has experienced very much worse than insect bites in his travels and manages to sleep soundly.
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Hobwise would see the matter settled, if for no other reason than that the Lord of this land seemed to have no interest in doing so. The likehood of this town unwittingly plunging itself into darkness again seemed high, but if they could extinguish whatever remnant of the Witch-King's evil still afflicted these parts, then he might never hear of it again, and that made it worthwhile.
Wulfgith, who has lived most of her life among horses and animals doesn't pay the bugs any mind at all. Though she isn't too happy about the choice to go to this tower over Rivendell. However being out voted as it was, meant it would just have to be dealt with.
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Though the road is muchly degraded by the passage of time from the spot of evil, Thorgrim's high mood also brings a steak of luck, and he constantly points out tell-tale signs that the trail continues.
At one point, after passing by a fetid marshland and as the sun is well on its descent, he stops dead in his tracks and declares, "We camp here."
Upon further questioning, why they might camp so close to a swamp, he points once in one direction, and then again in another.
"See that cave aways there? There are few caves in this region, so that will be a mighty refuge for all the bats in this area.
And over there, by the cattails--see that metal-blue bug that hovers and flies better than a fish can swim? That says this is a stand of dragonflies nearby.
This point is a conjunction of two great predators of the bugs that have plagued us. And though all around we might be sucked dry, here at this crossroad, there will be no bug or insect, mite or mosquito that will fly here and long survive, so many are the predators about.
We may rest here in peace."
Before laying down for the night, Giles tries to distance himself from the disc--placing the scarf it's wrapped in under a rock a few feet from the foot of his bedroll.
Then he practices certain mental exercises he read about in the libraries of Rivendell, in order to calm himself, and drifts off into a more restful sleep than he'd expected, given the circumstances.
Cereidh beds down with a grateful heaviness, watching the darting motions of the dragonflies with the attention usually reserved for campfire tales.
She quickly slips into a dreamless slumber.
Between Thorgrim's keen eyes and knowledge of camp location and perhaps a bit of protection from Ulmo himself, the fellowship rests comfortably and at ease throughout the night.
The dawn blooms bright and warm, the sun sparkling on the early morning dew covered flowers the grace the rolling lands of the angle. A few blackbirds call to each from the confines a some nearby shrubs while the piercing cry of a hawk drifts down from high overhead.
Standing upon a high hill midway between the two great rivers at the headwaters of another small tributary, the tower had a commanding presence over much of the surrounding land and a small nearby wood.
Stories say that in order to avoid a swift siege, so all its might could be brought to bear upon Amon Sul, the forces of darkness unleashed a powerful and old evil upon the smaller towers of the angle and its defenders. None of the valiant warriors who protected the tower survived. What this evil was, none today know. But like so many places of the lost north it has been shunned and avoided as a place of sorrow, foul spirits, and dark denizens."
Findegil stares at the tower, recall flaring in his eyes.
"'The Stone Trees of the Angle' these towers were called in their time and I believe this to be the South Tower. It lasted nearly as long as Rhudaur when the Witch King came conquering."
He gestures with his arms.
"It stands on a tall hill with sweeping views of two rivers. There is even a wood nearby for additional provision and material. It would have taken a hard siege to take."
"There is a story, that the South Tower was never taken in siege, but was instead felled by a thing of Shadow, summoned by the Witch King. As the story goes, not one defender of that proud tower lived to tell of it. Should this be indeed the South Tower, and if there is even a grain of truth to that old tale, we must gird ourselves to face such a thing and prevail. For we must do no less."
Cereidh has risen with some measure of her old grace, although she still moves more slowly than usual, eyes clear but shadowed. Quiet around the morning campfire. The sort of slowness that might come in reaction to a cold morning, although clearly enough the party knows that it's more than that, where it has come from in truth.
"Would living to tell our tale to someone else - oh, perhaps Lord Elrond - not be sufficient?" There is, however, no heat in her words.
Findegil shakes his head at Cereidh's suggestion. When he replies, his voice is simply steady.
"We are here now. We have the means and the will to see this done."
Hobwise, having bathed amongst the cattails at water's edge while the Mosquitos revealed to him the wisdom of all flying creatures, combs a hand through his course hair and listens to Findegil.
"Aye. Let's see this done and leave no chance for this land of foolish men to stumble into darkness again."
The hobbit draws his short sword and sets out to the South Tower.
Giles gives Findegil and impressed nod. "Well said. I knew not that you were a student of lore as well."
He follows along toward the tower. As he does--with a bit of hesitation--he says to his companions, "You deserve to know...the disc is active. At times I think it's trying to poison my mind. At other times, perhaps to lure me into transforming into a wolf.
"I've tucked it deeper into my pack, but it still reaches out. Last night, I put it under a rock. Still it reached out."
Biting his lip, he continues, "I suspect it can't cause mischief while it's wrapped and tucked away...but I won't lie. The sooner we get this safely to Elrond, the better."
Cereidh looks at Giles with surprise and banked alarm. "Thank you for telling us. Is there something we can do, to make its whispers less distracting? Is there something - well, we've traveled together, and that's worth something, and you've been brave and true and sensible, but I've not traveled with you as long as I have these other companions of mine. Is there something we should be suspicious of? In case it gains some sway - well, short of you turning into a wolf."