The White Horse

[Tinuviel of Denton]

The tall stranger looked sharply at Matau. Fangorn Forest? Surely he had misheard the man.

"Excuse me, sir, I do not mean to be rude, but did I hear you mention Fangorn Forest?" When the two men looked at him somewhat oddly, he checked his coverings to be sure none of them had slipped. "You see, I am going there myself, and I thought you might be able to help me."

He stood there for a moment, waiting. When no answer was immediately forthcoming, he bowed a bit stiffly, and began to back away. "Never mind, I will find my own way, excuse my intrusion." He stammered a bit, as he nervously fingered his cloak and scarf.

[Sapphire_Flame]

"Excuse me, sir, I do not mean to be rude, but did I hear you mention Fangorn Forest?" Matau looked up and saw that tall man standing next to him. That was odd; the man had seemed so reclusive, he was surprised that he had spoken up so sudddenly. The man continued, "You see, I am going there myself, and I thought you might be able to help me."

Matau glanced at Herlion, then looked back at the tall man. He was considering what to say. But the man, looking suddenly uncertain, gave a stiff bow and began backing away. "Never mind, I will find my own way, excuse my intrusion."

"Wait," Matau said, before the man could leave. "I apologize for my hesitation, if it made you believe I didn't wish to offer assistance. I would be more than willing to help you." Matau looked at Herlion, then back to the other man. "I am Matau, and this is Herlion. What are you called?" He waited for the man's reply.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

"What are you called?"

"Hmm, well, hmm, I do not know the correct way to say it in your tongue. I suppose you could call me...Twig. Yes, I think Twig will do."

"Twig?" asked Herlion curiously. It seemed an odd name for a person who was well over six feet tall.

"Well, I am still very young, you see. When I am older, my name will be longer," explained Twig, which made no more sense to the two men than did his name. "But, Matau and Herlion, surely those are not your right names. We have only just met." He shook his head a little, which caused a rustling noise, something like a tree that was blown by the wind.

"Well," said Matau, "That shouldn't make much difference. A name's a name."

Twig appeared to be a little embarassed, though it was hard to tell under all the draperies. "Of course, of course, I keep forgetting that you have different customs than in my homeland."

"Where are you from, Twig?"

"Hmm, well, I do not know the name in your tongue. Actually, I do not know the name at all. We do not talk much, and never needed a name, for all knew where we were." Twig's answer was not meant to be vague, he honestly didn't know. "I am strange, to my mother," he murmured, as if talking to himself. "She does not understand my longing for the wilds, my wish to be where the trees are not placed in mathematically precise rows, where the weeds can grow alongside the flowers...I am sorry. I should not be rambling on like this. Can you direct me to Fangorn Forest? I would very much like to go there."

[Sapphire_Flame]

Matau nodded. "Gladly. I will be heading north myself soon, and could go some of the way with you, as well." Twig seemed honest enough, though his vague answers had been rather off-putting. Matau felt that he could trust the man, yet.... There was something undeniably odd about him; his manner of speaking, his unusual height, and his excessive coverings all lent him a mysterious air.

Twig's eyes gleamed inside his hood. "Thank you. I much appreciate your help." He seemed genuinely pleased. Matau wondered why the man was so determined to go to Fangorn; most of the people he'd met would just as soon stayed away from the old forest. Even though the Ents' part in the War had been a noble one, men still didn't relish approaching Fangorn's Wood.

"You're welcome," Matau said. He paused for a moment. "Twig, could I possibly speak to you outside for a moment? I'm rather curious about something." Twig suddenly looked apprehensious, as far as Matau could tell. Herlion glanced at Matau, obviously wondering what in Middle-earth he was thinking.

Matau gave the other man no hint. He kept his gaze on Twig. "I would just like to talk without so many other people about. I believe I am correct in saying that you wish not to draw attention." He rose. "I am only curious. You need not answer my questions if you wish not to." Matau nodded toward the door.

[Nurumaiel]

Eohsecg slowly drew back his hand. Talomi blinked and instinctively drew back a little. Was Eohsecg going to give him a good one right in the nose? But instead the young man's hand flew forward again, with a smile on his face. Talomi hesitated, then he grasped the hand and smiled back.

"You too must accept my apologies," said Eohsecg with a little bow. "I have been, perhaps, a bit hasty and inconsiderate. Your sister will have my attention, most certainly, but though while she is attractive I doubt if I am 'in love' as of yet." He smiled again. "That may change, though. She is very beautiful."

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Twig followed Matau out, a little hesitant about this, though he didn't think the human meant any harm. Of course, others hadn't meant harm, either. Until they saw him without his cloak and scarf. Then they always tried to hurt him.

As they left the Inn, Twig hummed quietly to himself. It was a nervous habit of his, one that his mother had disliked. She said it reminded her of someone. Someone she'd known long, long ago. She never said who.

Once they were outside, Matau smiled. Maybe it was meant to be reassuring, but Twig was not. He was growing more and more apprehensive about this as it went on. It wasn't really that he didn't trust Matau, at least as far as one could trust a person one had just met, it was that he'd had some bad experiences with people who started this conversation in the same way.

[ June 09, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

[Sapphire_Flame]

Twig seemed extraordinarily nervous as he turned to face Matau. He must have had experiences much like this in other places he'd been, and with unfavorable outcomes. Matau could understand his unease; he had been in similar situations himself, and knew how nerve-wracking it was to be questioned about your whereabouts. He tried to smile reassuringly.

"I don't know why," he started, "but I feel like there is something very unusual about you." Twig gave no sign of inturrupting, so he continued. "I mean no harm, but I like to know a little more about the people I travel with than I know about you. I have been in situations similar to this, where my companion has proven to be untrustworthy. I do not think this of you; you seem to be someone I can trust."

Twig's unease seemed to diminish slightly, but not much.

"And I hope you feel you can trust me," Matau said. "Though I can understand if you do not; many people have not, though they knew less about me than you do.

"I do not know why you want to go to Fangorn. Myself, I went to learn more about the other forests in this world. And I went to learn about the Ents. Many people foolishly fear them, because of what they did during the War, even the people of Rohan, who were saved by the Ents' assistance. I went to Fangorn to settle my own mind, to disprove the rumors I've heard of the Forest. This I have accomplished.

"You may have a different reason for going. I don't know. I do know that if you mean any harm to Treebeard's folk, you will answer to me. If not, I have no reservations to taking you to the Forest. I only wish to know why you desire to go there."

[Tinuviel of Denton]

"You may have a different reason for going. I don't know. I do know that if you mean any harm to Treebeard's folk, you will answer to me. If not, I have no reservations to taking you to the Forest. I only wish to know why you desire to go there."

Twig looked at Matau incredulously. Harm the Ents!? The very idea was utterly, totally absurd. After all, he was one of them.

"Matau," he began, "There is no way in all the world that I would harm the Ents. I...well, perhaps I had better just show you." He unwound his scarf, revealing a smooth-skinned, dark brown face with deepset green eyes, though they hadn't the wisdom and memory of the elder Ents. Then he pushed back his hood, uncovering stiff, dark green hair that was reminiscent of pine needles.

"This is why I wish to go to the Forest."

[Elora]

Ronnan had let the uncomfortable silence continue for far too long between him and Naiore. The Elven woman had sipped elegantly at her wine whilst he had contemplated all the unsavoury possibilities she may be able to muster. Naiore was not a woman to be lightly triffled with, if all accounts could be believed. Ronnan, as he observed her, was inclined to believe.

The arrival of a somewhat unusual guest managed to snag the thief's attention. With the observational ability so necessary for a sucessful career in theft, Ronnan quickly ascertained that the newcomer was not at all a commonly found sort of person. Struggling to keep the smallest shred of composure, Ronnan set his long untasted ale down on the table and looked at Naiore.

He ignored his startlement at finding a set of wide emerald eyes studying him.

"We have an interesting addition to our number," Ronnan said as smoothly as possible. Naiore looked sceptical for an instant, and then followed his line of sight to study Twig as he spoke with another. She watched for a long moment, and Ronnan allowed some hope to surge.

"Well we may, Ronnan," was all she said after a long moment, turning back to face Ronnan.

"Why do you suppose he's here," Ronnan asked.
"Why do you suppose it's of any concern to mem," Naiore asked in her own turn. Her serentity and assurances seemed unruffled, and for a moment Ronnan wondered if that hope he had felt was utterly unfounded.

"Perhaps it is common from whence you hail to see such things freely abroad and mingling at inns and taverns," he commented. Ronnan forced himself to pick up his ale again, and sip at it in a display of ease. Naiore could sense with little trouble what an absurd facade that display was. Yet, the thief did have a point. Perhaps his unease that coloured her empathic senses was not entirely related to the prospect of meeting his comeuppance.

She twirled the stem of her wine glass between two long fingers as she thought.

"Perhaps it would behoove us both to know more," she allowed. She had little liking for discovery, particularly in Rohan where her list of known crimes was most comprehensive. Strange occurances such as the coincidental appearance of what seemed to her to be an ent-like creature are not to be overlooked if continued freedom was sought. Such casualness was not wise.

Ronnan's face held traces of anxious uncertainty. His sapphire eyes continued to study the newcomer. The thief knew the risk that coincidences could pose. There was no such thing as a coincidence. Naiore set her glass down and leant towards the Feanorian Elf.

"It would go well for you if you aided me in this. Were you to move closer so as to better hear, I would not overlook such a service," she purred. Ronnan examined her closely.

"Let it not be said that I refused a fair lady service," he replied in a faint echo of his habitual charm. Naiore smiled indulgently and Ronnan pushed his chair away from their table and stood. Careful not to draw overmuch attention to herself, she was sure to not watch Ronnan approach the individual in question.

Ronnan was equally careful in his approach, employing the stealth by which he had made his fortune, up until now that is. There was an art to blending in and in doing so becoming invisible and he used all his skill now. He walked through the clusters of people and tables, until he neared Twig. There he paused, for he knew Naiore would not ignore him entirely, just mostly. He loitered until she had checked his location.

Poised between Twig, the individual he was speaking with, and the bar, Ronnan was able to observe Naiore's quick location check and then move with as much haste as he dared for the door. If he looked more than once over his shoulder, noone could blame him.

Once outside of the bar, Ronnan found himself no longer constrained from a conspicuous display of speed and put as much distance as he could between himself and the Elven woman who would soon discover his absence within.

[Sapphire_Flame]

"This is why I wish to go to the Forest."

Matau took several steadying breaths. Twig was an Ent. Of course, he should have known; he had suspected, of course, but even a Ranger could not be sure of all his suspicions. The revelation was still a surprise, however, though not an unwelcome one. Matau smiled, pushing his windblown hair out of his eyes.

"Well met," he said, his smile broadening; then, to Twig's great surprise, he bowed to the young Ent. "It would be an honor to lead you to Fangorn Forest." For the first time since Matau had noticed him, Twig looked relieved. He had found acceptance from someone, when he had expected hostility. Matau knew the relief of finding a friend among potential enemies. He was glad he had met Twig when he did; even thinking of what others might have done infuriated him.

"You have truly earned my trust, Twig. And I hope I have earned your's. We will depart for Fangorn as soon as you desire."

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Aleia rode up to the White Horse Inn, glancing at the sign swaying above the door. She gave her pony Skeet into the care of the stablehand and went inside the inn. As she stepped in, the people nearer to the door glanced at her, obviously surprised to see a hobbit in these parts. Aleia smiled at them and stepped up to the bar.

"'Scuse me, barkeep," she said. "Can I get a bowl of stew? And a pint? Thanks." When she got her stew and ale, she breathed in the scent deeply and sighed. Days of riding long and hard and staying in inns of lesser quality than the Horse had taken their toll. Since she had left the Dragon, Aleia had had to sleep in ditches and hedgerows when she couldn't find an inn. She remembered one less than beautiful night where a farmer had found her asleep on the edge of his field and, waking her up, chased her to where Skeet was grazing. Needless to say, she was not sleepy while finding another bed that night.

Aleia chuckled at the memory, although it hadn't been funny at the time. She spooned a bit of soup into her mouth and swallowed it slowly, savouring the rich taste. She finally surveyed the crowd in the inn for someone to chat with. She finally saw a lone Elf-lady sitting by herself. She looked quite dignified and Aleia felt a little ashamed to approach her, but it had been a long time since she had had a decent conversation.

"Excuse me, lady," said Aleia as she approached Naiore, sweeping off her hood and bowing low. The lady looked amused when she straightened up, probably because women usually curtsy. "Would it please you to chat with me a bit?"

[ June 13, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

[Bêthberry]

Change, that bane of the Noldor and other elves as well, is no stranger to Rohan and I am sure that all our Rohirrim writers look forward with courage and fortitude to the new events scheduled for Rohan.

The Golden Hall will be revamped over the weekend and a new White Horse Inn thread will be started, to reflect the new challenges and abilities of our Rohirrim writers.

Look for a list of those who are eligible to game in Rohan when the new Horse thread opens. (Hint: if you've been here before June 1, 2003, you will be on that list, with the provision that you respect the rules, which have been clarified.) And a party to celebrate the new digs.

Look also for more clearly explained criteria for gaming in Rohan. And new members of the Rohirrim team who are here to help you have the best games possible to do justice to the legends of the heroric Rohirrim.

And if I am allowed a non-Tolkien allusion, I will quote Grace Slick, "It's a new dawn."

Bêthberry,
Innkeeper of The White Horse and
Moderator for Rohan