The Yule Log RPG

[Folwren]

Berrick waited half a second before sitting in the place that the dwarf made for him. He paused in answering Egil's question as his eyes drifted over the gathered company, and then - just before he could actually make any sort of reply to his inquiry - one of the hobbits (joined at that instant by another two of his kind) suddenly let out a horrific shriek and went surprisingly limp.

Berrick blinked and then chuckled quietly and turned to the dwarf. Others had already gone to the fainted Halfing's side and were attempting to revive him.

'I am merely traveling,' he said, 'and in such freezing weather, any shelter is a welcome sight. I'll likely be on my way tomorrow. . .or sometime.

'But these tales being told are very intereting,' he went on, turning to look at the figure in the grey cloak. 'I do not know much about the history of the lands Northward, nor much doings of the elves. . .I come from farther south, but we have our tales. Let me think of one that might interest you.'

He fell silent and lowered his eyes to think. . .

[Folwren]

After some little time, Berrick lifted his head again. 'Aha!' he cried. 'I've got one. It may or may not be true, don't ask me to verify it, for my Uncle told it me. I won't deny, though, that he didn't tell me many a tall tale in my younger days. This was one of his more serious ones, though, and it's not easily forgotten. . .'

It happened in the Autumn of that year when my Uncle was practically a boy - no older than twenty-four summers - that he got word that the Silver Fox had been seen roaming the Grey Wood. Well, my Uncle lost no time in getting a horse and going off to find the fo. He and two companions rode off together.

Days passed, and still no sign of the Silver Fox was seen. My Uncle’s companions gave up the chase and returned home. They laughed at my Uncle’s persistence and told him he’d do better to go home and hunt for eggs.

My Uncle Brimbor paid no ear to their jeering and when they’d gone, he continued his hunt. That very afternoon he scared up the fox out of hiding and cross country he led my Uncle and did his best to loose him, but Uncle Brimbor had a fine horse beneath him and they kept to the fox’s heels until the little animal was caught and cornered in a bay of rock with only one entrance.

“Very well, you have trapped me,” the Silver Fox panted, turning around to face him. His tail drooped and rested on the ground and his eyes were sad. “But it would have been better for you had you not. For the last treasure is at the foot of the Mountains and guarded by a black demon named Gorlab. I would not go there, if I were you.”

But my Uncle cared nothing of some rumored demon and his eyes glowed with the thought of treasure. So the Silver Fox told him where to go and how to find the place of the treasure and Uncle Brimbor left him. He returned home and got his two friends and together, they rode off to find this treasure.

After three days journey, they came finally to the place the fox’s directions led them. It was a rocky, dim, and gloomy cleft at the bottom of a tall Mountain. The three companions dismounted and led their horses over the broken and rocky ground. The air was hot and still and suffocation, but the three young men seemed not to care. Their minds were on the treasure waiting for them.

As they passed up through this narrow gorge, they saw ahead a bridge or arch of stone cross over their path. They stopped before it and looked up. On it, words were inscribed of many tongues, old and new. They read in the language they knew:

“Stranger, past this place, your life is forfeit. Take one step further, and you shall go no farther.”

“Twas a witty fellow who wrote that,” my Uncle’s companions said. “But it’s nothing but a pack of fairy tales. There’s nothing ahead as far as I can see that would harm anyone.” Indeed, it certainly looked that way, for beyond the arch, the way grew less rocky and there were green plants growing. But no sooner were those words out of the young man’s mouth that Uncle Brimbor’s horse began to rear and plunge and try to get back. It dragged Uncle Brimbor back away from the arch in his attempt to hold him, but it finally broke loose and bolted off. My Uncle’s companions laughed and mounted their horses.

“We’ll wait for you at the treasure,” they called to him, and urged their horses forward under the stone gateway. As soon as their horses’ fore hooves touched the shadow cast by the stone, a great, pitch black cloud rose from the ground.

Uncle Brimbor could later remember no definite shape the black thing took, but such terror flowed from it that he cowered back against the stone walls of the gorge and covered his face. He heard the horrible sound of two horses screaming, and a great yell from one of his companions - but then there was utter and complete silence.

After a long time, he ventured to open his hands and look. There was the arch, and there was the grim writing but no where did he see a trace of that terrible black shadow, nor of his two companions and their horses.

My Uncle went home and told people of his adventures, but few believed him. However, it could not be denied that his two friends were missing. . .and that they were never found or heard of again.

[Arry]

‘It’s alright, boy,’ said Andwise to Birger. ‘He has a weak constitution when it comes to ghostie tales and such. Here, let us rouse him.’

Madoc grabbed the bun and cheese Willem had left on the table and waved it back and forth beneath his companion’s nose. Andwise raised the stricken Hobbit’s head a bit, saying all the while to him, ‘Come now! The Inn’s cat is about to make off with the last of your breakfast. Best get up and make a stand!’

There were faint groans as Willem roused himself, grabbing the cheese-filled bun from Madoc. ‘Cat, my . . .’ His voice trailed off, remembering he was not at home, nor in the company only of his brothers. The blood had returned to his head now and he blushed. Andwise and Madoc leveraged him up to his chair and shoved a hot cup of tea in front of him that Birger had brought, laced with a strong spirit. ‘That should put the starch in your backbone,’ Andwise remarked, sniffing the cup as he passed it to his brother.

[Koobdooga]

‘A good story, Master Andrail!’ Egil chuckled and shook his head, drawing some curious stares from those who’d been listening to the man’s tale. ‘Oh no, ‘ he said, ‘it’s not that I’m thinking the tale was in the least funny. It was chilling, to be sure. And especially in light of the other news those gathered here have brought.’ He chuckled again. ‘It’s just that I never held much with horses. Always thought them devilish beasts – too big, too ornery. But I must say, the one your Uncle Brimbor rode appeared the most intelligent creature in that party. And, well, I never thought to hear my self say that of such a beast!’

Egil called the server over and had his and Berrick’s cups refilled. ‘You said you might be leaving tomorrow, Master Andrail. I was thinking of heading out then, myself.’ He paused and took a drink, collecting his thoughts. 'I was going northward, but the news I’ve heard of doings there makes me think I ought to take another direction. If you don’t mind my asking, will you be heading back south? Or west, perhaps? And if so, would you like a traveling companion? I’m a fair fighter with my ax. And two to keep watch at night would give more sleep. But think it over, think it over. I don’t mean to pressure you . . . naught but an offer on my part.’

[Tevildo]

Pleased that he would be able to show off in front of the guests, Tevildo waited for the animals to be silent and then began to speak....

"In the First Age of Arda in the far eastern land of Hildórien, the Secondborn Children arose. Now many of the Vala were taken with these upstarts and believed they could do no wrong. Only Melko could see and understand the true state of things. He was impatient with the slow designs of the Music and warned the others that no good would come from the Aftercomers. Yet Manwe and the others paid no heed to his warning, but unwisely shut him out from the company.

Now, even in those earliest days, the Apanónar took great delight in themselves and often acted as if they were masters of all of Arda, though we all know this is definitely not true. And some of their number were so full of themselves that they decided to follow the course of the Sun and began journeying towards the West. Seeing the Secondborn Children struggling along the road, that busybody Varda decided to try and help, for the earliest Men did a very poor job of hunting and were constantly in need of food. It is also said that these Men were lonely and cried out for a companion.

And Varda travelled to the Secondborn in disguise and she brought with her a pack of giant hounds and made a gift of them to the leaders of Men. And she said these words to the Men: "Here is a companion who will be with you forever. These hounds will be a reflection of my love for you. Regardless of how selfish and childish and unloveable you may be, this new companion will accept you as you are and will love you as I do. And the hounds were pleased to be with the Men and wagged their tails in approval.

Now, when the wise Melko saw all this, he was sore distressed. For he knew what would happen. And he warned the others but they did not heed him. But one day Varda went again to the camps of the Men and what she saw filled her heart with sadness. The Men had all become filled with pride. Each one strutted and preened like a peacock and believed himself worthy of the rule of Arda. For every day the Dogs looked into the eyes of men and told them they were worthy of honor, and the foolish Secondborn Children believed this lie.

Varda did not know what to do to correct her mistake, and even Manwe was upset to hear what had happened. Finally, in desperation, the couple turned to Melko for help."

Cat stood up and pranced about the firepit, looking each of the animals directly in the eye. "And now, my friends, before I go any further, does anyone in this fine circle know whom Melko called upon to correct Varda's terrible mistake?" Tevildo glanced from one animal to the next and waited for someone to speak.

[Nerindel]

After hearing Wenda’s words regarding the unwight and as Maranwe had moved to listen to a tall grey-clad stranger who spoke of elves and battles gone by, Arato had slipped into thoughtful contemplation. The young woman’s words had troubled him as he was reminded of the same sense of some evil he had felt the previous night in the woodland just above the sleepy village, but as he chewed on the tip if his pipe, idly watching the flames lick hungrily at the Yule log, he reminded himself that whatever it was had not been as deathly silent as the unwight Wenda had described, no it had whispered of evil intent and tried hard to disguise it’s raspy hiss against the wind. His Gaze shifted momentarily to the shuttered window’s as they again rattled in response to the harsh winter winds outside.

The journey had been long, he was tired and near exhaustion in mind as well as body. He admitted as much to himself, although reluctantly, as he turned back to the fire. Perhaps in chasing shadows as long as he had he now expected them at every turn and was now seeing them where there were none to be seen, but there was no denying that wherever he went trouble seemed to find him. He seemed to drew them like moths to a flame, it was his curse and as yet he had allowed himself no rest from insuring that such creatures where returned to the void. It was a simple choice really them or him and like most he valued life especially his own.

Mara was right whatever it was, if indeed it was anything more than the harsh wind‘s call, it could wait and if it became over bold and looked for trouble he would be right here waiting to oblige! With an assured grin of satisfaction , he relit his piped and turned back to see what new tales where being recounted.

As it was he had rejoined the group as a new stranger was recounting to the dwarf a tale his uncle had once recounted to him, Arato listened with interest and even allowed himself to grin with mild amusement at the clever cunning of the fox . Not only had it managed to barter it’s freedom with it’s knowledge but also sought away of ridding itself of it’s pursuers possible for good. “A foe not to be taken lightly” he chuckled to himself. But his mood again grew sombre as the story turned the way he knew it must with death. He could fight monsters and vanquish demons, but the subtle evils that Melkor left behind to tempt and corrupted the hearts of all races he could not prevent. Each have to face that demon alone and only the strong of heart and mind can resist such manipulations, in the end greed had been their undoing.


‘You said you might be leaving tomorrow, Master Andrail. I was thinking of heading out then, myself.’ He paused and took a drink, collecting his thoughts. 'I was going northward, but the news I’ve heard of doings there makes me think I ought to take another direction. If you don’t mind my asking, will you be heading back south? Or west, perhaps? And if so, would you like a travelling companion? I’m a fair fighter with my axe. And two to keep watch at night would give more sleep. But think it over, think it over. I don’t mean to pressure you . . . naught but an offer on my part.’ the Dwarf was saying to his companion as Arato again resurfaced from his thoughts.

“If it’s west you go I’d be wary of the Mirkwood, elves protect those woods and a dwarf and his axe might not be too welcome,” Arato warned taking in the dwarves fine blade. “I’d keep to the road if I were you and tarry not. It is also said that dark things have made their home in the southern eaves of the forest, In fact this very morning I heard a chilling tale,|” he pause removing his pipe and taking a draw of his mead, both to wet his throat and to ensure he had the attention of both men and anyone else who wished to listen, then he began.

‘Three companions disturbed by news of strange disappearances in southern Mirkwood, decided perhaps a little too foolhardy to go and see for themselves what was going on. They searched for days and days for signs of those said to have gone missing but found nothing and were beginning to think nothing that had happened to them and that the missing had simply gone off wandering without telling anyone, or perhaps even decided to seek out new havens and didn’t know how to say good bye.

But sanding in a small clearing one of them suddenly noticed that the sway of the tree’s was moving against the wind and not with it. Unnerved by this and realising that something was not quite right they began to cautiously back out of the clearing, their eyes searching carefully for what could be causing such a strange phenomena to occur.

That’s when it began, a click, click, clicking sound , quietly at first, but growing louder and louder as it came closer and closer, quickly it came causing the third companion to panic and run off in fright straight into a huge sticky silvery web that hung between two tall trees, it held him fast and the more he struggled the more entangled he became . Quickly The second companion attempted to calm him down and cut him free, while the first companion kept watch just out of sight. His hands trembling as he knocked an arrow in his bow and listened fearfully as the clicking grew closer and closer. Then suddenly stopped, he looked around his heart beating fast as he expected an attack at any moment, but it didn’t come.

“I think it’s gone!” he cried back to his friends after a while.

“Let‘s hope so!” the second called back, as the third finally fell free from the sticky trap. “Right he’s free lets get out of here!” the second called back, but her words were lost to a blood curdling scream that they both recognised at once. They both rushed to the spot where their friend had stood watch, but there was no sign of him, both he and the clicking sound had vanished .

Off course they searched for him but found nothing but more webs and the bones of unfortunate souls who had been caught in the traps and been unable to free themselves. Then with the coming of night the clicking return and fearful the two companions fled to tell others of what they had seen and to warn them if they could.

“So from them I warn you be wary of the Mirkwoods!” he whispered leaning in close for emphasis and if he was honest to gain a little dramatic effect.

Off course the story was an adaptation of the news Mara had brought and she would no doubt pull him up on it later, but if it cautioned at least these two be wary, when travelling through the woods what harm was in it and if he was lucky these two would carry the warning to others with half an ear to listen.

[Rose]

Tevildo is asked to continue

The old inn hound raised himself up from the ragged blanket that served as his bed. That is his hindquarters stayed sprawled on the ground while his head and chest rose up. He was half blind, his old eyes cloudy and the drooping ear he’d raised a hind leg to scratch at was notched from any number of skirmishes.

‘Speak up, cat!’ he growled. The muffled voices and smells from the gathering in the little courtyard had intruded on his dozing. At first only waking him fitfully. It was the voice of the cat that woke him fully. Some story the feline was spinning. And what was all that about hounds and men turning bad. He hadn’t caught it all, but he was sure the puffed up, self-important cat was telling lies.

Sneaky critters – butter you up on the one side, rub on you like you were their best friend, and the next their claws and teeth’d be in you.

‘G’wan . . . tell us the rest of your story.’ He gave a wheezy laugh. ‘And I’m just thinking you’re going to be telling us it was you as was asked to help out.’

[Undómë]

Goody sat hunched forward on her chair, staring into the fire. Her eyes drifted down the log, noting how much there was still to burn. She stirred her old bones, sitting up as straight as they’d allow, and looked about the room. Her eyes lit on a familiar face.

‘Birger! Come here, boy,’ she called. ‘Going to be needing more holly for the fire. Got to keep the log here burning. Take your saw out and gather us some, won’t you? A little rowan and yew make for a good blaze, too.’ She eyed the boy, stopping to consider the stories he’d most likely heard from the guests in the Inn. ‘Best you be leaving while there’s plenty of light. Take the dogs with you, why don’t you.’ She raised her voice a little so that those nearby could hear her.

‘Any of you good sirs be willing to lend Birger a hand? Many hands make light work,’ she cackled, trailing off as her gaze drew back to the coals that glowed red and shimmered beneath the log.

‘Carr!’ she called out, hearing his shuffling step somewhere behind her. ‘Who’s gone to fetch the boar for the feast?’ she asked. ‘Be a good night tonight for a fine, fat pig, it would.’ She smacked her lips a little, thinking of the cracklings, dripping with grease. ‘Heard the animals were gathering in the courtyard . . . best the boar be a big one, so’s they can have a bite, eh.’ She rocked a little, back and forth in her chair, humming some tune for a short while, then fell quiet.

[Nerindel]

"I'll go with the lad." Mara spoke up, thinking on Arato's uneasiness in the woods the night before, but she let little of her concern show on her face as she rose.

"That is unless of course you feel a mans company would offer more reassurance?" she grinned, a light of mild amusement reaching her bright eyes as she spoke, noting the lad glace uncertainly from her to the table's of strong looking men seated around the inn.

"Ai you needn't worry lad," Arato laughed, slapping the lad jovially on the shoulder. "Trained by elves that one, silent as a shadow and as fierce as a bear, no better woods woman this side of the iron mountains, I'll wager. She'll see you right lad." he grinned in a kindly assuring manner.

Mara nodded humbly at her friends kind praise, then turning back to the lad she patiently awaited his decision as to weather or not he would accept her offer of accompaniment and help in the task set him on this bitter chill afternoon.

[Huan]

Birger let out his breath in a whoosh, relieved he would not have to face the suddenly ominous woods alone. And yes he might have liked one of the men to come along, but he thought the woman looked able enough. More able than me! he thought in a passing moment of grim humor. Wouldn’t be more’n a mouthful for them creatures they were talking ‘bout.

‘You’ll do fine, m’am,’ he answered in a voice more bold than he felt. His fair cheeks reddened, hoping she did not take his acceptance of her offer as being too rude. Who was he to know her merits as a protector? His only skirmishes had been with crows he’d chased from the garden or the pup who’d got hold of Cook’s leg of lamb roast; his only weapons a little knife he used for whittling and perhaps the stick he used to move the goats out to a different patch of grass in summer.

Elf-trained, the man had called her. Strong as a bear. He sneaked a quick look at her. ‘Begging your pardon, m’am, but mayhap you want to . . . well . . . that, is . . . your dress, will it be warm enough for tramping about in the snow and such?’ He blushed again, this time a deep red, as red as her dress. It crept up from the collar of his tunic. He looked down hurriedly, examining the scuffed toes of his boots. Her hair had shone auburn where the firelight touched the curls and her green eyes were bright with amusement

‘I’ll just fetch my cloak and the saw and meet you at the gate in a little while with the hand cart,’ he stammered.

[littlemanpoet]

"A woods-woman, are you?" asked Wenda of the one called Mara. This Mara was fair to behold compared with herself, Wenda knew. Little matter that.

"Aye," Mara smiled. "You?"

"To the north I spend my days," Wenda replied. "Our paths have crossed not. At least, not in any ways you might expect."

Mara raised an eyebrow at Wenda's mysterious utterance, but smiled and said, "Nay, I think we have never met before."

"Good the day to you," Wenda offered, and Mara answered in like manner.

With that, Wenda donned her furs and hood and went out to feed and run her reindeer. North she went and was soon lost to sight. When the sun had set and Wenda had not returned, those who remained at the Green Man Free House wondered at her going north, as well as her failure to come back. 'Maybe she does not plan to come back to the warmth of the Yule log,' some said. 'And maybe worse,' others murmured, their eyes tending toward the closed and barred door.

[Tevildo]

Tevildo spun around and sneered back at the hound. "Perhaps I was personally asked to help out, or perhaps not. That is my little secret. But I can tell from the look on your face that you think my tale to be full of lies. Have it your way, Old Dog. Still, I swear my tale is true. For 'twas not only Melko who gave the order, but Lord Manwe and even the High Lord himself."

"Melko had thought long and hard on the words and tears of Varda. If truth be told, the Dark Lord had a soft spot in his heart for the Queen of Heaven and, though she could be very foolish at times, she was also very beautiful. And he came to her one morning at dawn carrying a heavy basket. And inside, nestled under a woolen blanket, was the sound of gentle "meows" coming from a whole litter of kittens. And whether I was in that basket or not, I shall not tell the likes of you.

But Melko said these words to Varda, 'It is not good that Man should be so proud. Truthfully, I have said this same thing to both Lord Eru and Manwe, yet neither of them would give me the time of day. So they will reap a bitter harvest. Man's pride will bring bitterness to Arda. And yet I do have a special gift here: a precious thing that will help to forestall the day when Man will think that he rules over all.'

Varda peeped inside the basket, but all she could see were soft bundles of fur. 'I do not understand. How could these little creatures stand against Man?'

'Take this basket now, and give it to your husband, for he will understand my meaning.'

Then Varda did as she was bid, and Manwe peered inside the basket. And, seeing the cats, he sighed and shook his head, 'It is bitter for me to admit this, but the Foe may be right.' He scooped up the kittens and ventured high on Taniquetil, even into the sacred grove where the presence of Eru dwelled. And the next day Manwe came down, carrying the kittens under his arm, and a mighty decree went forth.

'So shall it be. The Dog may stay with Man and look upon him with adoration. He may teach Man he is loved, but so too shall the Cat be near. For Man is filled with pride. He struts and preens like a peacock. He must learn some humility. The Cat shall also be Man's companion from now till the end of time. He will be with him forever and see him as he really is. He will remind him of his limitations, so Man will know that he is not worthy of adoration. And that lesson, too, is valuable.'

So Manwe gave Cat to Man, and Cat would not obey Man. And when Man gazed into Cat's eyes, he was reminded that he was not the supreme being. And Man learned a little humility. Manwe was pleased, and even the distant Eru. And Man was slightly improved. And Cat did not care one way or the other......'

Tevildo sat down and went back to preening his fur.

[Nerindel]

As Maranwe climbed the stairs to her room, she pondered thoughtfully Wenda’s mysterious words, guessing at what she could have meant by them. But by the time she reached the door to her room she had given up, thinking that perhaps some things where best left a mystery. Pushing open the door and not taking the time to look around, she strode straight over to the cot at the far end of the room, dumped her pack on the straw filled mattress and pulled out a pair of dark brown pants and a heavy rustic brown tunic.

She pulled off the festive gown which the young lad Birger had quiet astutely realised may not be suitable for both the weather out and the task at hand, though he had been a little abashed in saying so. She laughed lightly recalling the lads deep crimson cheeks as she pulled off the under skirts, recalling also with an ounce sympathy his eagerness to remove himself and get the things they would require.

So as not to keep him waiting long in the cold she quickly pulled on her tunic, pants and boots, lacing them up carefully so as not to dislodge the dragon bone daggers concealed in each one. Strapping on her belt she tuck a small wood axe and a hunters knife into it, then grabbing up a well weathered dark grey cloak she hurried out of the room and bounded down the stairs, eager to again breath in the refreshing chill winters air.

Birger was waiting as he said he would by the gate at the far side of the courtyard, he waved to her as she stepped out of the green man, she smiled and waved back stopping momentarily as she caught sight of the small gathering of birds and beast’s huddled by a small fire for warmth as the old woman had said they would be. ’but she said nothing of the two gentlemen keeping them company’ she mused, smiling and nodding politely in the direction of the small gathering as she moved on.

“Well It look’s like we’re all set!” she smiled looking over the small hand cart, “Shall we?” she continued opening the gate to allow Birger to led the way.

“my name is Maranwe, But you may call me Mara if it’s easier,” she added as she closed the gate behind them.

[Folwren]

Berrick paused in answering the Dwarf's offer as he listened to the story told of the dark forest bearing the name Mirkwood. When the strange tale was told, he couldn’t say that he felt particularly fond of the idea of passing through there. But then, he never really had intended to. He turned towards Egil Glitterfist.

‘I really do not know in which direction I am going,’ he said. ‘I took to traveling half a year ago, and since have traveled far towards the East and Northward, and so end here, having starting from the Southern part of Gondor. I would be happy for you company, and will travel in which ever direction you choose. I had intended taking a westward route from here and going above the said Mirkwood and then heading south again, towards the mountains. However, should you wish to go directly south from here, I’ll make no complaint. I’ve traveled too long on my own and am quite willing to have a companion.’

He smiled and thrust his feet out under the table and leaned back against the wall. ‘Stars and stirrups, though,’ he added, somewhat sleepily, ‘it is nice to be within four thick walls and away from all that snow and wind.’

[Huan]

‘Yes, m’am. Mistress Mara . . . m’am.’ Birger hauled the handcart through the gate and walked slowly while Mara latched the gate and caught up to him. ‘The holly grove’s about a half league from here.’ His chin jutted toward the patch of forest to the northeast of The Green Man. ‘Won’t take us too long to get there. Old Goody be wanting some rowan wood, too. Now that’s a bit farther on.’

He looked at the position of the weak sun and narrowed his eyes as he looked toward the forest that hemmed in the long thrusting foothills a ways away. ‘See those firs just edging up the hills? The yew grow just in front of them. Special trees, the yews are. They stand between life and death, so I heard tell; hold back evil, my gran used to say.’

Birger picked up his pace, knowing that Mara could easily keep up with him. ‘Best we get the yew first – it’s tough wood, you know. Take the longest to saw. We’ll work our way back from there.’

The two trudged along in silence for a while before Birger got up the courage to speak again. ‘The man back there at the Green Man,’ he began. ‘He said you were trained by Elves.’ Now Birger had heard about Elves from other travelers to the Inn, and he wished mightily to meet one. And if he couldn’t meet one, he wanted to know as much about them as he could. ‘What were they like, m’am . . . those Elves?’

[Rose]

White Paw follows after Mara and Birger

The old wolf-hound lay down once again on his pile of rags, his patchy-haired belly turned toward the warmth of the glowing embers. He was just about to doze off when a cold wet nose snuffled him on his ear, followed by a few quick grooming licks. He growled deep in his throat, then raised himself, taking a long sniff at the intruder.

‘White Paw! Leave me be, won’t you, pup. I’ve just gotten comfortable.’

White Paw was two years old, full grown. A big hound, larger than his sire had ever been. There was wolf in his background, though many sires back. His mother had been part wolf, also, and he seemed to have inherited those wolfish looks from them untempered by the hunting hound that had frolicked somewhere back in the family line. He was a great beast of a dog, wolf to the core in abilities and looks . . . but not in temperament. He had a sweet disposition and was especially fond of the boy, Birger, who played with him as often as he could and brought him special treats.

‘I just wanted to let you know, pops,’ White Paw said, wagging his tail as he yapped at his father. ‘That the boy’s gone off with the cart and saw. To the woods. I’m going after him. Might need me I was thinking. There’s been some strange howling from the trees.’

The dog moved like a swift, dark shadow over the crusted snow. He made his way to the top of the wall and flew off in the direction that the woman and Birger had taken. His stride ate up the distance and soon he was close behind them. He yelped and barked as he drew near, announcing his presence on the adventure.

[Envinyatar]

Stamo’s eyes flashed with amusement at the preening cat’s story. ‘Well, well, I never heard that version . . . back home. But then, there are no cats there to tell it, as I can recall.’

‘More’s the pity,’ rumbled one of Tevildo’s companions, smiling in that particularly impish feline way. ‘Upgrade the place if you did have.” The three cats shared a laugh, though it sounded more like some smoke from the embers had gotten up their noses, making them sneeze and snort.

‘I think it best we leave before we do something foolish . . . and take up the gauntlet . . .’ Mori paused for a moment as the snorts and sneezes ran their course. ‘Or perhaps, before we take up the hairball . . . and try to put the felines in their proper place.’ He watched the cats as they worked themselves over with their long pink tongues. ‘If only Aiwendil were here – perhaps he would be more patient with their haughty attitudes.’

Mori turned to where the white owl was perched. ‘I think we two-leggeds will return to the common room for now. Sit near the fire, sip something warm.’ He gave a small bow to those gathered in the little courtyard. ‘We’ll have some foods sent out from the kitchen for you. And perhaps later, when the chill has left our limbs, we’ll come back to share another story with you.’

[Undómë]

The tall men had come back into the room. Shaking off the snow from their cloaks as ordinary men would do before they entered, stamping the slush from their boots on the rushy mats of the vestibule. And now they sat at their ease near the fire, drinking another cup of the warm wassail. Again, much as ordinary men would do.

Their boots had clopped solidly on the wooden floor when they walked she noted, but their footsteps, in her mind, trailed off to and from lands beyond her ken, she thought. And their eyes took in all with a considering look, as if weighing the scene and those involved in it in some hidden balance. She wondered if this little gathering was found wanting.

Goody felt a prickling on her scalp, and a sudden chill that trickled down her bent old back bone, though truth be told the chill was more of an excitement than a feeling of ill will. Some would say the Sight’s come on her. But Goody would laugh and poke fun at such nonsense. ‘Nothing but my years!’ she would cackle. ‘And I pays attention and remembers.’

She eyed the man nearest her as he bent forward to feed a stick of holly to the fire. Her old ears strained to hear the melody he seemed to hum. ‘What’s that?’ she asked, her curiosity roused at the unfamiliar tune. ‘Your tune – are there words to it?’

[Huan]

Birger’s eyes lit up as he heard the barking draw near. ‘White Paw!’ he called, dropping down to one knee in the snow. The dog put his front paws on the boy’s shoulders, nearly knocking Birger over as he licked the boy’s face. Birger stood, scooping up a large handful of snow as he did so. He made it into a hard snowball and threw it far in the direction he and Mara were moving. With a wolfish grin, White Paw chased after it.

‘My dog, Mara m’am,’ he explained brushing his hands off on his thighs. He thought she had looked a little concerned as the wolfish looking dog had bounded toward him. ‘Well, the Green Man’s dog, really. But I take care of him.’ He shaded his eyes, looking after dog who was now trotting back, snowball held delicately in his maw. ‘He’s my friend,’ he said, glancing up at her, to see how she would take this small confidence on his part.

They had come almost to the small stand of yew that stood all bare and twisty in a small fold of the long extending foothills. Birger hauled two a canvas slings from the back of the hand cart, handing one to Mara. ‘Looks like the wind and age has downed some branches. Let’s collect them in our slings first, then see if there’s any more need to be cut.’ He took stock of the trees, chewing on his bottom lip as he watched the breezes blow the snow on them about their crowns. They looked like those old ladies with the swirling white hair Goody sometimes talked about; the ones that danced beneath the moon to turn the seasons right.

White Paw had come to stand beside him, leaning just a little against his leg. ‘Think we’ll just pick up the blowed down branches today,’ he half whispered to the dog. ‘Wouldn’t be right to take axe or saw to such today, I’m thinking.’

[Envinyatar]

Mori smiled as he turned to the old woman. ‘Was I singing, Mistress Goody? Stamo often chides me for it. Though, usually I’ve no idea I’m doing it.’ He looked toward the floor, his mind recalling the notes he had been humming. ‘Ah, that one has no words.’ He looked toward Goody once again and hummed part of the interweaving melody. ‘Pretty isn’t it . . . and pleasing.’

The two men sat with the old woman as morning past into late afternoon. They spoke with her at times, in low voices. And of times she would be seen to nod at what they said, and at others she would shake her finger at them as if they had gotten something wrong. And she would speak, then, flicking her eyes briefly at times from the fire to the two men.

[Undómë]

At the insistence, the cajoling, of Mori and Stamo, Goody said she would eat a little soup with them and perhaps some of the cook’s soft bread to dip in it. She wasn’t hungry, really; she rarely was these days. And when she did manage to get something down, it made her nauseous. She managed a few spoonfuls of broth, pushing the vegetables and meat about with her spoon.

‘They should be back by now,’ she said, as Stamo finished his soup and sat back in his chair, his gaze on her. Goody picked at her piece of bread, dropping the bits into her bowl. ‘Birger. And the woman. They were going to collect some holly and rowan, too. For the fire. I shouldn’t have sent him for yew, too. Too far on these short days. Too far.’ She shivered, pushing her bowl away from her.

[Rose]

It was hunger, mostly that made White Paw begin to hurry his boy and the other along. While they had gathered branches at their various stops, the dog had gone out hunting. He was normally quite successful at nosing out the odd brave rabbit or even the less satisfying small mouse. He would hear their skittering footfalls as they tracked along the snowy crust and stalk them until he made his kill. But today the woods were unnaturally quiet, with only the fall of a clump of snow from some branch breaking the thick silence.

The two-foots were oblivious, it seemed.

Something seemed to press in upon the woods. Something waiting and watching. All the animals had gone to ground, and no solitary raven kaw’d from the trees.

Hunger turned to an uneasiness that prodded him to herd his charges home. A nip here at Birger’s ankles, a tug on the woman’s cloak. The sun was sinking well below the lower branches of the trees as the trio neared the gate to the village.

Behind them, in the darkening foothills a moaning cry rippled through the snowy firs . . .

[piosenniel]

One day ends and another begins . . .

‘Feathers and beak!’ squeaked the wren, raising his head from the dried sunflower head the lame man had left on the frozen ground for the birds. 'What was that?'

Corn, too, had been brought out for the mice and rabbits, bones with meat still clinging to them for the bigger animals. And bowls placed here and there of the fragrant soup the cook had made that day. It was Yule and the two-leggeds shared their food and warmth with the animals.

One of the crows, a raggedy bird in the wren’s opinion, sat high on the spine of The Green Man’s roof. ‘Don’t see nothing out there!’ he called down to the party below.

‘Well, of course, you don’t, you worm-brained croaker,’ the wren muttered around a mouthful of seed. ‘It’s dark! Bet you can’t see the end of your beak in this light.’ Wren hopped over to where owl was perched, neatly eating a piece of raw meat from one of the smaller bones. Owl had it grasped in his great talons and not a drop of blood got on his white feathers. Wren shuddered at the thought of having to hunt meat, much less let the cold, wet gobbets slide down his throat. Worse yet were his thoughts as he considered the sharp beak and strong talons of Owl. Given other circumstances it was just as likely Owl might find him a tasty, if small, beakful. He ruffled his feathers, shaking those thoughts from his mind.

‘Sounds like that other . . . well animal, or whatever it was last night, doesn’t it? Doesn’t seem to have come any closer,’ he went on, ‘though does it?’ He was trying to reassure himself without much success.

The boy who he’d seen before, emptying the slops pails, came out after the two-leggeds had their evening meal, carrying an armful of twigs and small branches, and two small wedges of oak. He built a small fire in the burning pit and stacked the oak together so that it would burn slowly. The young dog trotted alongside him, happy it seemed to be in the boy’s company. The boy brought the old hounds blankets closer to the fire and bade him lay down, giving him a bowl of hot mush with meat bits stirred in as the old fellow settled down on it.

When the boy had gone back in, the animals gathered in closer to the small blaze, turning rump and side and snout eagerly to the radiating warmth. Many of them muttered about the moaning wail, wondering how safe they were behind the think wooden fence that circled the town.

‘Better’n than we’d be each of us out there alone,’ said Wren. His belly was full now and he perched on the bare branch of one of the apple trees whose limbs were propped on the courtyard fence. The heat from the fire radiated up and around the Wren. Soon, he had tucked his head beneath his wing and dropped into slumber once again.

~*~

Next morning, early

The fire had burned down to a small heart of coals by the time the sun had risen. Wren spread his little wings and fluttered down to be closer to the warmth, he nodded to those were awake and those just opening their eyes to the morning’s light.

Taking a nose and tail count he saw that everyone had made it through the night. ‘Bless my beak!’ he said in a pleased voice. ‘We’re all still here! Now . . . where’s breakfast?’

[littlemanpoet]

The animals heard the clink of metal on metal and the brush of leather on everything else; they looked, sniffed, listened, and felt the air for what change the sounds brought.

It was the reindeer of that furrier woman, the one who always went north. The animals peered at the sled and saw (and smelled) the bunch of furs all ruffled up that they expected to see, which meant that the woman was huddled in the midst of them.

Only, when the reindeer came to a stop outside the Green Man, the woman did not rise and tether the deer to the pole. She didn't get up at all! The longer she stayed unmoving, the more curious the animals got, and the more their curiosity overcame their native fear, the closer they approached the sled, sniffing and pricking their ears and tails and readying their legs for running at the least provocation. Still the woman did not move.

Finally, old worm brain flew right down on the sled and peered in amongst the furs, then started moving the furs around with its beak. Soon, the furs were all strewn on the snow beside the sled, and there was no woman to be seen.

"Where is she?" asked the crow.

The reindeer looked back at the crow and said, "She drove us to a village up north away. She was walking about it when we heard all the sounds of wood and brush go quiet. Our feet wanted to run but we stayed and sniffed the air; we could smell nothing. Then we saw a shadow coming toward us. Our feet took us away back down paths our hooves knew, and here we are. We know not where the woman is."

The animals chattered about this news, drawing the interest of a soul or two in the Green Man.

[Nerindel]

Mara had slept fitfully, her rest broken by nightmares of shadow and death, many desperate soul shattering screams had intruded in her mind, feelings of pain and suffering had causing her to toss and turn and just as she thought she would scream out… nothing ! a silence so deathly still that it brought with it a feeling of great despair and sorrow. Only then had she awoken, her dark eyes filled with much grief and sorrow for as the second night of the Yule had passed undisturbed for those within the Green man and the village without, she alone of all of them knew that others somewhere had not fared as well!

A silver tear trickled down her pale cheek as she rose, walking over to the small north facing window she looked out at the dark silhouettes of the trees shadowed against the orange and pinks of the new dawn. She had sensed something out there, waiting and watching, White Paws, the dog had too! she knew by the way he had continually nipped the boy’s ankles and tugged on her cloak to hurried them on in their task. She had said nothing, Birger was but a boy and needed not to know of such things. She had hoped to share her misgivings with Arato only to find that by the time they had returned he had already alighted to bed.

However even as she studied the swaying of the distant trees she knew that what she had felt out there was not the thing of her dream’s, no the Evil in her dream had been filled with great anger and resentment and envied with evil intent those of flesh and blood, it looked for something or someone…something to make it…..!

She stopped in her thoughts rubbing at her right temple where a dull ache had begun to develop, as it always did when she ponder and examined long the content of her dream’s a side effect that she had long come accustom too but curse all the same.

A faint clink of metal made Mara suddenly look up ’that sound’ she thought ’I’ve heard it before’ In her dream, the memory of the pained screams had driven it from her mind but it was definitely one in the same. Looking down on the courtyard she saw the reindeer and their sledge, but no rider. She tilted her head slightly... she had seen those reindeer before, in the stable as she and Arato had arrived and the sledge too although it had not been hitched, though it had been filled with furs as it was now. In her mind she swept the common room of the inn recalling the faces of the previous morning, the Innkeeper, the boy, the old woman, the trio of hobbit’s, the dwarf, the elf and the tall man none of whom had looked like fur traders, then she remembered the young woman, fur boots and strange word’s. ’the hunter’ she thought suddenly turning from the window and hurriedly throwing back on the dark pants and rust tunic she had worn the night before, she was still pulling on her boots as she rushed downstairs and out into the courtyard.

Mara stopped realising that her sudden appearance had startled the small group of animals and birds that had gathered about the reindeer, a few others from the inn had also come out to see what was going on, the fur’s lay strewn on the ground about the sledge so they could all see that the rider was not lying injured on it’s boards.

‘Where do you suppose she is?’ someone whispered but Mara was barely listening she had slowly started moving towards the deer , Her eyes transfixed on the fear reflected in their dark glassy eyes, something had frightened them. ’enough that they may have left their rider behind?’ she wondered silently. Slowly reaching out her hand she gently stroked the side of the nearest ones face.

‘if only you could speak and tell us where you mistress is!” Mara whispered.

Suddenly one of the birds a small wren danced about her head chirping wildly, she looked up. ‘I’m sorry little friend, but I know not the old ways and understand not the language of the avian’ she smiled sympathetically. Turning back to the deer she wondered if perhaps checking the halters and the sledge would turn up any clues as to why it had returned rider less.

[littlemanpoet]

Mara and other curious guests at the Green Man milled about the reindeer and sledge, discussing the condition of the halters, furs, tack, and sledge itself, trying to read any indications as to what might have happened to Wenda. Most of the animals scuttled, fluttered, and skulked just out of reach of the humans. The dogs and cats trotted in and out between the legs of the humans, trying to make what they could of the smells, look, and sounds of things.

It was well past mid-morning when there came a strange sound from the nearby woods. The two reindeer started and looked wide-eyed for where the noise came from, then began to make the same sound themselves, filled with panic. Another reindeer broke out from the last outreachers of trees and ran full tilt toward the sledge. The humans backed away so as not to be in its path. It was going to crash into the two reindeer and sledge, but suddenly came to a stop not a pace from them. Its eyes were wide with fear. It nosed about in the furs, as if looking for something, or perhaps as if it was trying to hide amongst them; for it burrowed unsuccessfully into them, tripping over the sledge as it struggled. Finally it collapsed.

Then a gasp went up from the crowd. Before their eyes the new reindeer lost its fur. Its snout and horns receded. Its forelegs thickened and grew fingers where hooves had been. Its rear legs changed from hock to hip, the distance from ankle to hoof shrinking until they were human feet.

"Wenda!" Mara cried. She ran forward and helped Wenda cover herself in her furs. "What happened? Are you all right? What turned you into a reindeer?"

"Help me!" Wenda muttered. "It's hunting me! It's coming! It's coming!" She looked about herself wildly.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Where were those two-leggeds? The ones they had seen last night who could speak the tongue of the old ones.... Maybe they would be able to help.

The Great Owl flew up to the top branch of the oak and settled in, sounding out a warning to let the other creatures know that they must remain within the fence and not venture outside where shadows could be lurking. The Owl had no idea of what the hideous thing must be that had made the shapeshifter shriek in terror. Such beings had great and mysterious powers, a gift that nature had given to them. If the hideous shadow had made even the shapeshifter cower, how much more could that thing do to the birds and beasts who lived within the forest realm and on the wide adjoining plain?

Owl swooped down to sit on the fencepost to try and hear what was going on among the two-leggeds. Before he could make out anything of meaning in the babble of voices, he was surprised to see a large furry cat approaching him, the one from the night before who had recited the tale with such impudence and called himself Tevildo. The smugness was gone from Tevildo's face and, in its place, was a look of worry.

[Envinyatar]

It was the wren that pried them from their chairs. Stamo was drowsing, his chair tipped back against the table, his stockinged feet resting on a stool. A precarious perch at best as it turned out, as the little bird fluttered down on the man’s hair and began pulling at it. And all the while screeching, ‘Get up! Get up! Danger is near.’

Stamo’s eyes flew open and his arms windmilled in an effort to keep himself from falling backward as the table scooted backward from his sudden movements. With a yell, and launching his torso forward, he managed to right his chair.

‘Now what’s all this about danger,’ he growled, staring at the bird who had lit on the mantelpiece and was screeching.

Mori was already on his feet, his staff in hand. He nudged Stamo’s boots toward him and called to the bird. ‘Hush now! We’re going out.’ He reached out his long fingers and grasped the wren, placing him firmly on his shoulder. He picked up the grey shawl that hung on the back on Goody’s chair and placed it gently round her shoulders. ‘You mind the fire, Mistress. And we’ll mind to this.’

The little wren could not sit still, but flew before them, calling to the other animals as he went. When the two men entered the courtyard, they saw Mara comforting Wenda, and the animals huddling close in, inside the Inn’s fence. Stamo stepped back to hold open the door.

‘Bring her in,’ he urged Mara. ‘By the fire.’ He followed after ordering something hot for her to drinks. Broth and spirits – one for the body, the other to steady her nerves. He put his own thick cloak about her for extra warmth.

‘What can you tell us, Wenda?’ he asked her gently as she sipped from a steaming mug.

--------

Mori stood in the courtyard with the animals. The reindeer were still trembling, but it looked as if several of the Green Man’s workers were taking them in hand. Tevildo, he noted, was sidling up toward where the white owl was perched. Not with the intent of attacking him, it seemed, for there was an expression of deep worry on the feline’s face.

‘What do you know of this, Tevildo,’ the man asked, tapping his staff lightly on the frozen ground. ‘What attacked her? What does it want?’

We cannot help if we do not know what it is that approaches . . . he murmured quietly to himself.

[Tevildo]

"I can not say for sure. But I have seen things, great and terrible things when I dwelled in the household of Melko, that reminded me of what I have heard tonight." The cat stopped a moment, then sidled up close to the Owl and whispered, "We are not so different, you and I. We are creatures that must kill to live. It is our nature to do so, and I will not deny that the game gives me great pleasure at times. Yet I have no wish or ambition to put a blanket over the entire world, a shroud of darkness and evil. A bit of mischief in one corner is quite enough for me....."

"Still, that thing, whatever it is...." the cat stopped, shook his head and shuddered, and only then went on. "That cold, hollow ring in the shapeshifter's voice....it sends chills down my spine. Whatever that thing is out there, it is one of the creatures sent by the Lords of Darkness. Pehaps a spirit that has unwittingly escaped from the void or some leftover from the days of old: a houseless spirit, or some creature that has been trapped in the form of a vampire. I tell you that was no mere Man or even an Orc who frightened the woman, not on a night like this when the Yule Log glows bright. But perhaps if the woman regains her wits, she will be able to tell us more. Or perhaps you yourself know something of this." Tevildo glanced sideways at Mori. " For, despite your look of innocence and simplicity, I know you to have great knowledge of ancient lore. You may be able to sense more of these matters than even I can."

But before Mori could answer, Wenda showed signs of awakening.

[Nerindel]

"Help me!" Wenda muttered. "It's hunting me! It's coming! It's coming!"

At these words a dark cloud stole over Mara like a shroud and the ill winds of fate and prophecy that only she could feel swept coldly within her soul, but before she could ask Wenda more, ask her what it was that she thought was coming , a voice cut into her thoughts.

‘Bring her in, By the fire.’’ the voice was urging looking up she saw a tall man holding forth the door expectantly, regaining again her composure she nodded , gently scooping up the young hunter insuring to protect her modesty she carried her into the inn, stopping only briefly to look back at the shadows of the trees beyond the green mans gate.

As Stamo called for broth and spirits Mara gentle set Wenda down on the chair closest the fire, as she did the young woman grasped her hand weakly. Then for a moment as Wenda’s fear were mirrored in her own, both women knew and understood each other.

“you saw it , didn’t you?” Wenda whispered hoarsely that only she could hear. Mara hesitated, “I see it in your eyes!” she pressed wearily. Mara nodded, but before she could say any more a warm mug was placed in the trembling hunters hands and Stamo was asking what she could tell them.

Mara stayed beside her both to reassure and to hear what her response would be, for although premonition had allowed her to see that the inn and the village was in danger it had not given that danger shape or form, for that she knew she would need the shape-shifters recount .

[littlemanpoet]

"What can you tell us?" the man called Stamo asked.

Wenda's hands shook; the fire warmed her and the cup of broth took the chill out of her hands, but they could not take the cold terror out of her heart. She did not wish to think of It, for the very recalling gave It place in her mind, and sucked at the marrow of her soul. She shivered.

"I .... went .... to the village .... to the north ..." She spoke in halts and gasps, her teeth chattering. "It was daylight .... but .... quiet as death." Wenda took a sip of the hot broth. "Bodies .... lay .... in the snow .... I turned one over." Wenda stopped and gazed into the fire, transfixed except for the shivering. "His eyes .... his face .... caught .... in a frozen look .... of naked terror!" Wenda sipped from the cup of broth and swallowed convulsively. "They were all the same!"

"Peace, Wenda!" said Mara, her hand warm on her shoulder. "Peace! Speak no more of it."

Wenda shook her head violently, and her shivering stilled from the warmth of the fire; but also she willed herself to be calm enough to tell her tale aright.

"Quiet as death it had seemed, but the silence became menacing of a sudden. I looked from the face of a dead child caught in its fear. There was a man; he had come out of the hut closest to the village's inn; the chief's hut. His face was dead, his eyes black and empty; he walked toward me but his footfall made no sound. I felt I was in a nightmare. My deers saw him and fled south, taking the sledge with them. Wiser were they than I.

"'Who are you?' I cried, I know not how I found voice to speak to It. It did not answer but reached a hand out to me. At that moment, somehow I saw as an Elf sees, I guess, and before me the world changed, and the man was but a shell; the wraith in the man was cold and deadly, and sought me. I fell into a panic, for I knew if It caught me my soul would not be my own. In my panic my shifting came upon me and I fled with the fleetness of a reindeer. Had I not the gift, I would be dead this moment, and a shell for this wraith.

"It comes this way."

[Undómë]

‘There is a darkness in the flames . . .’ Goody’s voice followed close on to Wenda’s last words. ‘See how it creeps toward the heart of the embers.’ She looked up from her chair by the fire, turning her gaze on Wenda, and by inclusion, the tall man and the other woman who sat near her.

‘The new year is turning,’ she continued in a challenging tone. ‘How will you see the light prevail and the shadows driven back?’ Her gnarled hand reached down for a handful of holly and she threw into the glowing core of the little blaze. Flames danced and licked along the pointy leaves, consuming the reddened berries that clung to them. Rowan followed and then yew, each of them calling up the flames. Still the darkness remained.

‘What will you do?’

[Nerindel]

Mara stared at the dark shadows gathering within the flame, as the old woman spoke. The holly, Rowan and Yew fed the flames giving light and warmth, but did little to dispel the darkness or cold chill settling over Mara’s soul. Wenda was right it was coming she could feel it, but what could they do?

She had encountered Wraiths before, But none like the one Wenda had described. Wraiths by Nature where vile, vengeful, souls who refused to completely let go of life, they coveted it and despised with envy those who still possessed it. But always they are bound to the place of their death, praying on the unwitting wanderer or tricking with sweet voices or illusions, never did they leave their bounds to hunt souls so relentlessly, no this thing was different, darker, more dangerous!

‘What will you do?’ the old woman’s words cut through Mara’s thoughts and she looked back at the others, What will they do? She wondered, Thoughtfully studying each face in turn, trying to determine their measure.

‘What do you know of Wraiths?’ she asked wearily, she did not relish an encounter with this thing , she doubted that any of them did, but it must be done least the portent of her dream come to pass, it had never occurred to her before that those screams could very well turn out to be those of the people standing before her, but that was the nature of her gift… the future ever changeable is never clear!

As she waited their reply her dark eyes swept the room looking for the one who had once spoken those words to her. For if they where to succeed they may need the help of the one who carries Mandur’mak! …Hells Sword!

[Envinyatar]

Mori bid the creatures in the little courtyard stay near. ‘Even you, badger,’ he called out to the furry rump that was just scurrying toward the hole beneath the fence. ‘Your fierce temper and long claws will be no match for what has frightened the skin-changer.’ He tapped the end of his staff against the wooden structure. ‘Nor is there a burrow deep enough beneath the ground to escape him should he turn his will toward you.’

He turned, heading for the door when one of the smaller animals called out. ‘Well, then, who will protect us? The fence is a poor excuse for a barrier. We’ll all be killed . . . or worse . . .’ Mori looked down. It was one of the mice speaking. The little brown fellow stood on the toe of his boot now, stretching up on his hind legs, whiskers twitching with worry.

‘It will hold today and through the night, mousekin,’ Mori said in a firm voice. ‘Tomorrow will have to see to itself. Those inside will have had time to devise a plan.’ He smiled, looking up where the snowy owl perched. ‘My companion and I will help as we may. But stay in the courtyard, you will be safe for now.’

Mori opened the door; the edge of his long cape swirled about his ankles. He felt it catch on something for a moment, then pull free.

-----

Stamo got up from his seat near Wenda as Mori entered, nodding for his companion to join him a little ways away. ‘One of His strays,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Must have got loosed somehow from the northern prisons he kept them in. Not just a wight, either, or so I’m thinking.’

‘Seeking a strong body for his uses,’ Mori returned, shrugging his cape from his shoulders and laying it over a chair back. He nodded thoughtfully at Wenda. ‘And wouldn’t she be just the prize he was seeking.’ He flicked his gaze about the little room, taking the measure of its occupants. ‘Have they thought on what they might do,’ he asked. ‘Not yet, I think,’ Stamo answered. He looked over to where the old woman was fussing with the fire.

Goody had just thrown another few branches of rowan on the log, and now she was poking at the core of the blaze. ‘Setting it to rights?’ he asked, drawing near. ‘Let me give it a stir.’ He poked the tip of his staff into the darker area of the embers, positioning the new fuel at the heart of the fire. The log end blazed up white, licking round the edges of his staff. He seemed to murmur a few words as he tapped the log thrice and withdrew his staff. ‘There you go, Mistress Goody. Burning bright as ever . . .’

[Huan]

Birger sat on his little stool near the doorway to the kitchen. His chores were done, and Cook had everything in order for the midday meal. She would call him, she’d said, sending him out to sit for a while and drink a cup of steaming tea.

He was all eyes and ears as he strove to hear what the others were talking about. He shivered, despite the layers of clothing he had on. More from dread though than from the cold. Mistress Wenda looked very bad and scared, too. And she was someone he never thought to look so. She walked tall in his little world, like some untouchable being, brave and strong and fearless. He was hard put to reconcile how he saw her now with the image of her he’d always had.

White Paw sat next to him, leaning against his legs. Birger was glad of the warmth and of the friendly, secure feeling the dog gave him. ‘Can you hear them, boy?’ he asked, whispering in the dog’s ear. ‘Something about a terrible wight and such and coming after Mistress Wenda?’ He shivered again, thinking how just yesterday, he and Mara had gone far from the little village, to the north. No wonder White Paw had tried to hurry them home!

He glanced over at Old Goody who was herself watching one of the tall men as he stirred up the fire for her. There was an odd look on her face, he thought, as she glanced into the flames. But the fire had blazed up as he watched her, drawing his attention. And the light from it and the dancing flames brought a kernel of hope to him. He put his arms about White Paw’s neck. ‘It’ll be alright, won’t it, boy?’

[littlemanpoet]

The big man called Stamo came in from outside. He took his friend Mori aside and whispered, reckoning not quite aright that they were out of hearing, for Wenda's ears were uncommonly sharp; but not so sharp as to catch every word. 'strays ...' whispered Stamo. '... loosed ... north ... prisons ... kept ... Not ... wight either ...' Mori hissed back, 'strong body ... uses ...' Then Mori turned a little and nodded at Wenda meaningfully; Wenda was careful not to show that she more than caught his look out of the corner of her eye. ‘ ... she ... just ... prize ... seeking.’

Wenda's eyes widened. There was no mistaking his meaning. The thing was after her! She was not sure what the quiet thing was, wraith or worse. Whatever it was, it was the worst thing she'd ever come across in all her days, few as they were. Ravenous wolfpacks hungry for her two reindeer, Pada and Muna, she could outwit and outrace. This was beyond her. The being was beyond all the others here as well!

"I need to go from here," she murmured.

"Stay here," said Mara. "You are safe here."

Wenda turned on her, wide eyed with terror. "No one is safe here! I must leave! It seeks me! Not any of you, but if I stay, you are doomed too!"

"Hush! Hush! Do not say such things!" Mara soothed. "We will find a way."

Wenda subsided and stared into the fire. Stamo came over and exchanged pleasantries with Goody, then made to add his staff to the fire. He murmured some words, tapped the log thrice; the fire was hungry for it, or so it seemed. Then he withdrew his staff; Wenda expected the blaze to calm, but it did not. That staff. Wenda looked at Stamo again. Did her eyes see aright? Was that staff not charred, where he had put it in the fire?

Wenda thanked him for setting the blaze higher, and watched him a while.

Then she noticed the boy sitting by his dog, staring at her wide-eyed with fear. He put his arms about the dog's neck. ‘It’ll be alright, won’t it, boy?’

Wenda's heart went out to him. She thought a moment: Bergir was his name. It was not good that the boy should fear so. She wished it were otherwise, and that maybe she could allay his fear. She smiled.

"How is your dog called, Bergir lad?"

"White Paw, ma'am."

"A good name and a beautiful dog," she smiled. "Would you sit closer to the fire, you and white Paw? I would be glad of your company, and maybe you of the warmth?"

[Rose]

His master was a shy boots, especially about the females. White Paw nudged Birger’s thigh with his nose and giving a low growl, sat smartly on his haunches, one paw on Birger’s knee. His tail swish-swished back and forth on the wooden floor.

Tugging at Birger’s breeches with his teeth, White Paw pulled him toward a bench nearer the fire. One very near the chair on which the woman sat. There was something particularly intriguing about her his nose told him. And he felt an instant liking for her, a trust. White Paw sat leaning against the boy’s legs once again, but his eyes were fixed on the woman; his gaze following her every move.

[Arry]

The three Halflings had sat quiet as mice at their table. Willem had recovered from his fright reasonably well; the Green Man’s ale having helped considerably. Though the entrance of Wenda clothed only in a hastily thrown on robe and the hearing of her story had begun to put the wind up him again. And even his two more stout willed brothers, Andwise and Madoc, were beginning to feel a bit squeamish.

‘I knew it! I knew it!’ Willem said, a slight edge of hysteria coming into his voice. ‘We should have listened to gaffer Tolly. He said his knees were telling him a bad storm was brewing and we shoulda stayed home.’

‘You great ninny,’ Madoc said, pouring his brother another mug of ale. ‘His knees tell him about rain and hail and snow and such. Not the kind of storm we’ve run into here.’ He drummed his fingers on the table in irritation. ‘We get home again and you’re never dragging me back this way. Altogether too strange the doings ‘round here in the winter.’

Andwise was only half listening to the banter between his brothers. His mind was elsewhere . . . on the story the woman by the fire, Wenda, had told.

Of the three brothers, he was the trapper. His snares and traps were the bane of those animals he hunted for meat or pelt, from bird to boar. His eyes flicked to where Wenda sat. Would she be the bait, he wondered. Would she have to at all? Could the creature be enticed by something else? And what would it take to kill such a creature? Ordinary iron?

He watched Goody as she fussed again with the Yule log. A shaft from the log, perhaps. Sharpened to a killing point. Yes . . . that might work. With a bow trap, the sort used to kill the big boars.

‘Of course, it would most likely have to have some bodily form. But then wouldn’t it have some sort of body in which it moved about. We could kill the body, I’m fairly certain of that. But should we be worried about what might escape?’

The room had grown quiet. Andwise looked up from the shallow puddle of ale on the table in which he’d been drawing his plans for a trap. He’d spoken aloud without thinking. His brow furrowed at the attention.

‘The wight,’ he said, as if the two words were all the explanation needed. ‘I’m sure we could trap and kill it. Just need to know a bit more about it.’

‘Are you daft!’ spluttered Madoc. Willem said nothing . . . he’d fainted again.

[Folwren]

Berrick Andrail, having slept like a log well into the morning, missed the excitement and the dread caused by the coming of the reindeer with the empty sledge and what had followed afterwards, but when he entered the wide room with the fire at the end of it, and people scattered about, he became instantly aware of the spirit of fear that drifted about the room. He stopped in the doorway, an exclamation of merry greeting checked on his lips. His dark eyes moved over the entirety of the gathering there.

A couple of women sat by the fire, and two other men stood nearby. A young boy, the helper here at the Green Man, sat by the kitchen door, his hand on a dog’s head. And then, lastly, he noticed the three Haflings that were there last night, again sitting at the table. The one had fainted again. What for, Berrick had no idea, but he was about to find out.

He meant to ask the lad sitting closest to him what had happened, but Bergir stood up, not having noticed him, and walked towards the fire, having been invited by one of the women there. Berrick shrugged slightly, and decided to take his inquiry to the hobbits - at least to one of the two who were still conscious.

“Good morning, friends,” he said, walking towards them. They both glanced up, and one answered with a nod and a quiet ‘good morning.’ “I’ve just arrived here,” Berrick said, “slept a bit late, I’ll admit. But what’s the trouble? The party isn’t too merry this morning.”

[Arry]

Madoc and Willem respond to Berrick

Madoc had propped Willem’s head on the table, resting it on the unconscious Halfling’s arms. He could already hear the small moan from his brother’s lips which signaled the nearing return to some level of sensibility.

He pushed away his mug of ale, and called for the server to bring a large pot of hot, strong tea, a pot of honey, and two . . . no, three cups. ‘No . . . best make that four mugs.’ He eyed Berrick as the man approached the table. ‘And a plate of buns and cheese, too,’ he cried to the server just as he pushed open the door to go into the kitchen.

‘Have a seat, please. And don’t mind my brother. He’ll come round once he gets a whiff of the food and tea.’ He pointed to a chair opposite his brother and him. ‘You’re Master Andrail, aren’t you? I’m Madoc. Have some tea with us, if you will. Good story you told last night. Scared the wits out of Willem here!’

Willem had managed to raise his head as the server plopped down a plate of buns, a good sized piece of cheese, and the tray with the tea and honey. He looked at his brother, Madoc, and at the guest at their table. Andwise, he noted had got up and gone over to stand by Old Goody for the moment.

‘It was awful!’ he told Berrick, mumbling a bit as he took a bite of bun and cheese. ‘There was awful sounds last night. Like some beast prowling the forest. And then Mistress Wenda there . . . well, her sleigh and reindeer came back with out her and all in a panic they seemed. Then another reindeer came a little later bounding into the courtyard and all wild-eyed and such. And I’ll eat my vest if it didn’t turn into Mistress Wenda herself.’ He took a large gulp of tea. ‘Well they brought her in and she told of some wightish sort of thing what’s been chasing her from the village she’d visited up north. Very scary, bad, bad thing. And well, she’s here and the thing most likely is still after her . . . and we’re here . . . and oh my . . .’

Willem’s head hit the table with a thunk.

‘He’s got it mostly right,’ said Madoc, propping his brother’s head once again. ‘Andwise, over there by Granny, has set his mind on the problem, and I’m sure others here in the room are sorting it out, too.’ He poured a cup of tea, offering it to the man. ‘I guess we just sit tight, til we’ve come up with a plan of some sort and can act on it.’ He looked at Willen who was still out cold. ‘Some of us anyway . . .’

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Andwise speaks to Goody

Andwise was deep in conversation with Old Goody. He leaned forward in his chair, his face a study in serious thought. One hand had strayed down beside him and was resting on the part of the Yule log that jutted out across the hearth. ‘Now, I’m not saying it is or it isn’t . . .’ Andwise’s voice trailed off, not sure of his footing on the question they’d been discussing. ‘Do you understand Granny what I’m meaning? You have your own ways in these parts. And I’m wondering if you think those ways will aid us?’