The Yule Log RPG

[Undómë]

Goody gave Andwise a long, considering look. The Yule had brought such a mix of peoples, of creatures, really, to the Green Man this year. She wondered what fates had conspired to make it so.

‘For one who does not follow the old ways as we do here, you are a most respectful fellow.’ Goody shifted uneasily on her chair. Despite the warmth of the fire, she had a chill within that could not be touched. It made her old bones ache; her face pale, though the heat bathed her cheeks. ‘’Twill most like be my last Yule to see done,’ she thought to herself. ‘Best I see it through most full’s I can.’

Her gaze turned back to the Halfling. ‘Aye, lad. I think they’ll help as is in their power.' Goody half closed her eyes and sang a little song she'd learned as a girl.

Now thankéd be the great Green Man
He who walked ‘fore we began
Hunter, stag , reaper, sower
Blood that flows through leaf and flower
Shelter us from future strife,
And grant us glad and healthy life.

'There’s some evil, though, as throws its shadow from before the Green Man’s time. Be needing something like to match it.’ She flicked her eyes to where the two tall men were now sitting, speaking quietly to each other.

‘Now what was it you had in mind, Master Andwise?’ she asked turning back to him. ‘Sharpened shafts of wood from the Yule log I heard you say. Powerful they'd be. But how do you plan to use them?’

[littlemanpoet]

Wenda sat before the heat of the Yule fire, feeling the last chill leave her fingers. She sighed. Mara had been quiet, sitting beside her, in a calming way. Here was one at last that Wenda felt she could have as friend.

White Paw was watching Wenda, his nose twitching inquisitively. He looked to have a wolf in his forebears, not so many whelpings agone. With the heat of the fire, his mouth opened in a big smile, his quick tongue sticking out between his two wolf teeth. Wenda smiled and reached out a welcoming hand. He sniffed it and touched it with his tongue, then looked up at her and smiled the more.

"He likes you," the boy said.

"And I him," Wenda said. She scratched White Paw behind the ears. "Maybe I should take me dogs to my sledge once Pada and Muna have done. Not long now."

Wenda frowned. Such talk was foolishness. She was not like to live out the the next day or so. She could overhear talk here and there, all of it seemingly including her own name. And plans, she heard them saying. What plan might one make against something as fell as that? Surely it was beyond any of them! Goody seemed to understand that; but then she had looked askance at Stamo and Mori.

Wenda spoke up.

"Goody," she said, kneading the fur under White Paw's neck, "do you know somewhat?"

[Arry]

Andwise paused in his explanation of how he planned to use a ringed series of bow traps to pin the creature firmly to a tree. They were the sort of traps he had used before in the hunting of the massive wild pigs found in the forest of the north country. Too big for one or even several of his fellow Hobbits to handle with stave and nets, this had been the most effective way they’d developed to bring down one of the tuskers.

He’d wondered about Goody’s comment – the evil that had come before her Green Man. And so he stepped back out of the way, giving Goody a clear view of Wenda. Perhaps the woman’s question to her would give him a clearer idea of what more would be needed.

[Undómë]

‘Do you know somewhat?’ Wenda asked, her fingers tangled in the dog’s hair.

Goody turned herself round on her chair, facing the woman. ‘Aye, Goody knows somewhat, Wenda. And others as know somewhat, too. But there be a difference twixt knowing and doing.’ She got up with an effort and made her way over to where the woman sat.

‘Twill be alright, Wenda. Look!’ The old woman raised her chin toward the burning Yule Log. ‘The fire burns bright; there be no shadow eats at it now. The year turns as it should, and we turn with it as we will.’

Goody motioned for the Halfling to come over. ‘Show Wenda what you’re working on, Master Andwise. Of course there’ll be other parts to the plan as will need to be put in place. But this seems a fair start.’

[littlemanpoet]

"I could not help hearing the plans of Master Andwise," Wenda said, "for he and I live by the same means." She looked to Andwise. "Maybe we can tangle it to a tree. What then? 'Tis only a shell, that man-body it wears. When first I saw it, no body it had at all. A shadow it was, and moved free without a body. Who's to say that if the body it wears is stuck to a tree, it doesn't leave it sag and take up the next nearest?" Wenda shuddered. "Nay, traps and spears and sword are no match for this unwight, unless they be Elvish."

Wenda looked to White Paw. "Are you an Elf dog? Nay, you do not look it, though legends tell that there was one once that ran in middle earth, and could use the speech of humans." White Paw tilted his head. Wenda smiled. "Nay, you beauty, no Elf dog are you, none the worse for that."

[Huan]

‘No, Mistress Wenda,’ said Birger, crouching down by White Paw. ‘He’s no Elf dog. White Paw’s just good wolf stock and, of course, his daddy’s the inn hound.’ Birger buried his face in the thick fur of White Paw’s neck. ‘His daddy was a brave’un. Stood off a bear from attacking one of the woodsmen who’d gone out to bring in wood for the inn. White Paw’s brave, too. I’m sure he’d help if he could.’

Birger stood up and looked over at the Halfling, Andwise. ‘I don’t know about unwights or wights even. But maybe Master Andwise’s traps could help. Slow it down or something, at least, couldn’t they? Enough for someone else to kill it off.’

‘What about you, Master Stamo, Master Mori?’ he asked, turning to where the tall men sat. ‘What do you think?’

[Child of the 7th Age]

Before either of the tall two-leggeds could reply to Birger's question, there was a horrible racket at the window of the Inn. Snow Owl had perched on a branch that dipped low, one that almost touched the outside of the window. The owl was screeching loudly, deliberately butting his head against the pane to try and get someone to pay attention to him but with little success up till this point. To most of those standing nearby, this merely sounded like a series of raucous hoots, although they had no idea why a large bird of prey should be acting this way.

By this time, the steady hooting of the bird had escalated into a series of piercing and demanding shrieks. To the ears of Mori and Stamo, however, there was meaning behind this escalating racket, since they were adept in understanding the ways of the creatures of the wood and meadow. At their urging, one of the bystanders came over and pushed open the sash an inch or two so the Snow Owl could be heard more clearly.

"Masters, please. I don't mean to interrupt the likes of you, but I must speak. I have two concerns, and I can't simply walk through the front door to voice them as you can do. First, I have been watching Tevildo for some time. I am sure he knows something he's not telling us. He is quaking in his paws, and is slinking about the courtyard with his fur standing on end, looking as if he'd like to take on someone in a fight. I know he has some fairly unusual connections, and am wondering if you might want to question him sometime. Perhaps he knows something useful. To be truthful, I don't totally trust him. I am not always sure whose "side" he is on, or even if he understands the whole idea of "side", but I'm quite sure he doesn't like this shadow thing."

The Owl blinked his round eyes solemnly and then opened his great hooked beak to speak, without waiting for a reply to his first query. "I have another worry. You've asked the animals to stay in the back courtyard and hide themselves. For some creatures, that is easy. But for others it is not in their nature. I believe it would be far safer to send some of these outside the gates of the Inn. The winged ones could fly north of here to try and catch a glimpse of this thing. Even if they can not actually see this shadow wraith, they may spy some damage or havoc it has wrecked in other villages so we can keep track of its progress and guess when it will actually arrive here. The other animals can be told to guard the perimeter of the Inn, fanning out into the orchard and down by the stream. At the very least, it will keep my folk busy. And perhaps someone will see something important and rush back to tell us. What do you think then? Can we help too?"

While most of those nearby could not understanding the meaning of the owl's hoots, it was clear even to these that the bird was quite serious and addressing Mori and Stamo in a very deliberate manner.

[Envinyatar]

Mori glanced briefly at his companion, the skin at his temples tightening; his eyes narrowed and one brow raised slightly. Stamo appeared not to have caught the glance. Instead he leaned forward, toward Birger, and studied him for a moment.

‘A serious question,’ he said, nodding his head at the youngster. Behind the boy's questioning look, it seemed almost that hope warred with fear. ‘And deserving of a serious answer.’ Mori’s grey eyes turned dark and though he feigned a certain casualness, his attention was riveted on how his companion might handle this.

‘What I think is that such a creature as prowls the outskirts of this village takes down his prey most by fear.’ His eyes flicked briefly to Wenda. ‘The battle against the shadow is over before the first strike falls when fear rides with you.’

There seemed a puzzled, disbelieving look on Birger’s face. ‘Not to say there shouldn’t be a healthy respect for this opponent. He is quite powerful. Quite.’ Stamo sat back looking for a moment into the distance, as if his gaze considered something beyond the room’s small space. ‘Still, I think that if a careful plan is put together, he can be slowed, as you say Birger . . . and you Master Andwise. And perhaps others here will lend their skills that he might be taken care of altogether.’ He nodded to where Old Goody had returned to her seat by the fire. ‘The Yule log burns bright now, as she said. The shadows that struck at its heart are fled. The light shines constant. The year will turn well this year, I think, for the Green Man. Hope is with us.’

Stamo’s eyes turned to Mara, who had been sitting quietly the while. ‘Tell us, Mistress Mara what do you see . . .

-----------------------------

As Stamo spoke, Mori ushered the owl to the far side of the room, their heads were bent together. The man sitting in a chair, the owl perched on the back of another.

‘My apologies, Master Owl,’ the man had begun. ‘I had forgotten the lessons of another companion. How fearless and how clever the smaller creatures can be in defense of their homes. Still, I would ask you let those who are the least able to defend themselves remain within the protection of the rear courtyard. Naught will pass in without my knowing and my leave.’

He grinned at the bird, who’d huffed his feathers at these words. ‘Others of the birds and beasts bear a great respect for you, is what I mean. And with your words and your spirit I can see you as some feathered chieftain who might marshal his troops with his zeal. And they would follow after you; some to their untimely deaths who should best have been left behind. Make them some small part of the effort against this foe, though. Let them have hope and a certain pride that their skills were put to good use.’

Mori glanced back to where Stamo and the others were talking, then, turned back to the Owl. ‘I think your ideas are excellent for the most part. Just make quite certain that none of your folk come close to this creature. They must be vigilant and very quick. None must try to engage him on their own. Working together is what will see you through, I think.’ He cocked his head toward Stamo. ‘And we will lend our aid as is needed and we can.’

The man stood up, offering the owl his cloaked arm. ‘Come, let’s go outside and speak with Tevildo . . .

[Folwren]

Berrick Andrail had sat opposite the two haflings. He silently held the steaming cup of tea in his hand as he listened intently to the owl and then the man’s replies. He turned his head and leaned slightly towards Madoc.

“This man knows the speech of the animals?” he asked quietly. It wasn’t exactly a question necessary to be answered, considering that the answer was evident, and yet Berrick’s wonder was greatly roused. He thought such an art had been lost. It had, at least, in his country. There was a short pause. “A wightish thing, your fainted brother said. Do I understand correctly. . .this thing. . .if it is a wight. . .can it not be killed? Surely by strength of arms it could be overcome and sent back to where it’s supposed to be.”

He had not heard the account given by Wenda, of the village and the dead. . .the corpses with the frozen look of terror etched in each and every one of their faces. Wide traveling had brought him into and through many adventures, but none with anything like this. Danger and fear he had overcome, but always with something mortal, something of flesh and blood. If this was different, he couldn’t be expected to know.

“Our brother seems to think so,” Madoc replied in answer to Berrick’s question. He nodded once again towards the hobbit who was off by the fire. Berrick looked around.

“I think I will go see what talk they hold now amongst themselves,” he said. “Thank you for the tea.” He offered a smile to the hobbit before turning and walking towards the hearth. He spoke to no one as he stopped at the edge of the circle formed by three women and the hobbit. He was content to listen. . .but at the time, no one was speaking.

[Tevildo]

Tevildo sat at the top of the old stone wall, glowering miserably at anyone who dared approach him. He was not in a very good mood. Snowy Owl had told all the animals to hide, but the cat was not going to listen to the prattlings of a pushy bird. He should just take off on his own, he reasoned, like the other cats in his party who had left the Inn a few hours before. He could race across the meadow into the thicket and leave this sorry scene behind. Tevildo knew enough of the ways of Wraiths that he felt confident in his ability to keep hidden from the shadowy nemesis that was terrorizing the countryside. Let the others manage on their own.

With that comforting thought, Tevildo settled in for a short snooze. Curling up so that he resembled a large white puffball, he nestled his head on his paws and wrapped his tail around his body. Soon his eyes were closed. Within a moment he was dreaming......

In his dream, there were the usual flashes of glory that he had earned as the hunter for the household of Melko so many years before. He saw himself curled up victoriously at the Dark Lord's feet while the latter bent down to stroke his head and speak kind words about Tevildo's ability to leap out and dismember any prey. He had been a great deal larger then, and the two-leggeds had no trouble understanding his speech. Such a pity, he thought, that the two-leggeds in this age were so blind and dumb.

Usually, the dream stopped at this point, and Tevildo awoke, feeling good about himself. But this time, it was different. The cat found himself walking down a large dark tunnel in the very lowest level of Melko's great fortress. It was not a place he cared to visit. There were usually screams and shrieks coming from behind the heavy stone doors, hideous reflections of an ugliness that even Tevildo preferred not to probe. Elves were taken down into these chambers. The cat did not know what happened to them but he had never seen any emerge alive. Still, these were Elves and their misfortune did not really concern him.

This time, one of the stone doors had been left open an inch or two. Tevildo could hear noises coming from inside the room, but these did not seem to be from Elves or Humans. Rather the dreadful shrieks and howls could only have come from a cat who is being pulled apart limb from limb or turned into a ball of flame. Too curious for his own good, Tevildo crept through the opening and hid behind a large barrell that someone had set down near the door.

Peering out from his hiding place, Tevildo saw the greatest of the Lord's wraiths sitting with a large cloth sack. His regular job was apparently done, and he was now stopping to relax. Inside the sack were ten kittens piteously meowing. One by one, the Wraith removed the animals from the sack and proceded to have his sport with them. Those images had embedded themselves on Tevildo's mind. One kitten lay broken and bleeding, his eyes separated from his head. Another had its tail cut off, still another had been set on fire, and a fourth lay disemboweled. By the time the Wraith finished with his play the only sound heard inside the chamber was that of his own raucous laughter.

At this point Tevildo could take no more. What a terrible waste of talent! Those kittens would have made fine hunters in just a little while. He wished he was large and fierce enough to make this murderer go up in smoke the same way that the Wraith had set the small grey kitten on fire.

Then Tevildo did a very foolish thing. He gathered all his courage and emerged from behind the barrell racing straight for the shrouded figure, attempting to clamp his front claws into the torturer's shadowy body. The hideous creature stared down in disdain, howled in laughter, and tossed Tevildo across the room with great force. The cat smashed against the cold stone wall; his body instantly went limp. He awoke several hours later, with one front leg broken and a bloody gash across his chest.

It was at this point that Tevildo pushed back his own wall of sleep, shaking like a young green leaf that has been pushed from a tree too early by a terrible windstorm. He had made a decision. He was not going to take off across the field. That thing approaching the village was the same thing he had seen in the dungeon that day. The terror in the eyes of the human victims was the same terror he had seen mirrored in the eyes of the kitten. Tevildo was absolutely certain of who this creature was, and he wanted to make him pay.

[Envinyatar]

Mori let fly the owl as soon as they passed out into the back courtyard. ‘Gather your troops, Master Snowy-wing; sort them out to your liking and set them their tasks. I think those who are making plans within will be glad of any information with which to pin down this creature in some way.’

He let his gaze rest for a moment on the old apple tree whose branches leaned over the courtyard fence, and in a most attentive way it seemed. ‘I wonder . . .’ he said softly to himself. There was something that Goody had said as they’d stoked the fire in the hearth and talked of the Green Man of the Woods. ‘He be a secret, a mystery ‘mongst the trees,’ she had said. ‘He serves for good, I think,’ she went on. ‘But might not be your notion of such. Sees to his creatures, he does.’ He remembered that she had poked the fire with a charred piece of rowan and the sparks flew upward, bright and thick. ‘But ‘tis said that when the shadow stretches long and brings a killing cold to root and stem and those as goes about the forest on four legs or more, or belly, or by wing, then he rouses up in anger and in strength.’ She nodded at her memories, speaking an old saying. ‘He gathers all unto himself and his strength is assured.’

Mori was thinking on this when his eye caught the figure of the white cat, hunched down on the stone wall to his left. Tevildo’s eyes were bright in the pale winter light. And behind them seemed a banked anger. Taking a chance that such anger was not directed at him, the man drew near and spoke softly to the feline.

‘Tevildo,’ he began, leaning on his staff, his eyes gazing in the same direction as the cat’s. ‘There is need of your knowledge and your skills. Will you lend your aid, Master Hunter?’

[Tevildo]

At first, Tevildo did not respond. He glanced off in the distance with a disdainful eye and then began to preen his coat, pretending he had not even heard what Mori had asked. A tiny war was going on inside. It was against his nature to cooperate with two-leggeds. Working on the same side as wren and owl also made him uncomfortable. Still, he could not discount or set aside the terrible images that he remembered .

He stared down at Mori, ignoring the particular question that the two-legged had raised, and instead began speaking about the Wraith in general terms. “This creature…. You should know what we are up against.” Tevildo hesitated a moment as disturbing memories pressed against his mind. He collected himself before continuing. “I have met this Wraith before. He is one of Melko’s chief lieutenants, an unfortunate mistake that my master made in delegating his authority. Perhaps you already know this, or perhaps not.”

He exchanged quizzical glances with Mori before going on. “This Wraith can look into the eyes of an Elf and change his very nature and fëa without even laying a finger on him, or so I have heard many say. A master of terror and deceit, he is no friend of cats.” These last words were said with particular emphasis. The cat went on, lowering his voice, as if confiding a very great secret. “Like the two-leggeds, I hunt to survive, though my play and achievements bring me great pleasure. This creature hunts for no reason at all, other than to see terror in the faces of his victims. I would dearly like to see him fall, but we must be very careful in what we do.”

“This creature has one weakness. He hates the light of day. I do not mean he is like a troll who turns to stone at the first hint of daybreak, but his strength and resolve are at their weakest when the sun first comes up. If there was some way we could find his lair and spy him out in the early hours of the morning before he settles down to rest, that would be a wise move. No one should be so foolish as to try and confront a Wraith on the battlefield of his own choosing. If you pursue him by night, stay well hidden: do not let him get a whiff of you. And, whatever you do, do not look directly upon his shadowy visage or form, or you will rue the day you ever walked upon this earth.”

[Nerindel]

Mara replies to Stamo!

It was true Mara had not spoken in sometime, unable to find her companion and seek his counsel on the things that troubled her she had slipped into silent reverie. Listening carefully to the thoughts and plans of the others, but all the while unable to shake the chill memory of her dream!

Wenda’s recount had all but confirmed that what she had been shown was the horrific fate of that little village… men, women and children all gone, souls ripped violently from their bodies and thoughtlessly discarded, lost and confused these poor souls would wander the confines of their village searching for the peace that was so cruelly denied them! that was what the deafening silence had shown her and it saddened her heart greatly, silently she prayed to Eru that they might find their way into his waiting embrace. It was only then that she became aware that someone was speaking her name.

‘Tell us, Mistress Mara what do you see . . .

Slowly lifting her eyes she saw the same tall gentleman who had held forth the door and beckoned her to bring Wenda inside, the same man who had banished the darkness from the flames and to whom now many offered their thoughts and ideas and as she studied his dark eyes she could see why, for beneath the kind and patient gaze sat a depth, an ageless wisdom that she had noted much among the elves that had raised her, a wisdom that was not quite without burden, this is what she saw as she looked in Stamo’s eyes and knew not that he wished an insight to her thoughts on the matter but that he sought instead that which was shown to her.

She nodded then and spoke softly, “Each seeing is different, sometimes clear pictures are revealed and others only sounds and thoughts as this last was,” she paused for a moment feeling the eyes of the others upon her, But Stamo held her gaze encouraging her to go on.

“Darkness filled my mind a darkness filled with unrestrained malice and hatred, then came the screams, tormented soul wrenching cries that froze my very heart, but still the darkness was not appeased I could feel its anger and frustration growing as it drew more screams, I can only guess as it moved through it’s unfortunate victims! Then as quickly as the screams had began they were silenced leaving only the lost and confused fears of the dead whose souls ripped violently from their bodies were then left to wonder aimlessly through the darkness. But still the Darkness remained brooding in it’s anger and frustration, till a new sound roused it, a sound that the screams of the dieing had driven from my mind until again I heard it within the courtyard of this inn!” And at this her eyes swept sympathetically over Wenda.

“It was the sound of the grinding hitching’s of a sledge!” she continued turning back to face Stamo.

“And that is not all master Stamo,” she added leaning closer that only he would be able to hear. “Just before the vision faded and I became fully awake, I sensed the darkness shifting and it’s mood changing to that of gleeful excitement, not the happy exhilarating type of glee mind you but a cold and evil sort, that left me fearful for this new thing that had roused it‘s excitement!” and again she glanced back at the young skin-changer.

She rose then and placing a hand on Stamo‘s arm gently guided him away from the others “I believe her still in grave danger, but I would speak not of it to her,” She went on in light tones, “already she senses the danger she may have brought to the Green Man and wishes to leave, but know my mind master Stamo, I intend to stay near her that if this danger threatens perhaps the good graces of Irmo will allow me to see more, perhaps something that will aid us and keep the young woman safe, no keep all of us safe!” she whispered wistfully.

“I do not pretend that like the others this thing does not frighten me, but that the portent of my vision may yet be a look of what could be here if we do nothing, frightens me more so that I will do what I must to prevent it! But since my vision two questions have puzzled me and I would pose them now to you if you would hear Master Stamo?”

Then when he nodded that he would hear she continued. “firstly thus, why does this thing so desperately search for a solid form to sustain it? and secondly what were to happen when and if it finds what it needs? Will it then be more dangerous?” as she spoke she stared at the growing flames in the fire as though somehow they would hold the answers that eluded her.

Then another though came to her unbidden, it was not a pleasant thought and she hesitated over it awhile and before the other could speak she posed yet another! “ This thing what ever it is or was, if it took a body that could sustain it, would it not then be venerable to death like the rest of us?” she knew what she asked was grave, but she felt it needed to be asked.

[piosenniel]

‘Well now, who’s going to notice a little brown wren?’ the bird thought to himself. ‘I can slip in as quick and quiet as any old shadow. I’ve only to keep my wits about me and my beak shut. And ‘twill seem that naught but some old brown leaf drifts from bough to bough.’

The effects of the mead were all gone now, and wren’s little black eyes were glinting with possibilities of some heroics on his part. He had heard, somewhat from Owl and somewhat from eavesdropping as he hid in the rafters of the Inn, the plans the two-leggeds were hatching. He wanted to be in on the carrying out of them. Perhaps someday a wren would be the main character in a story of bravery against an awful foe; the sort of story told from parent to child down many generations.

It was always the eagles and hawks and ravens and such that played great and notable parts in what few battles he’d heard stories of. Why couldn’t a small bird be counted among the principals, the champions of the hour, he wondered. And why couldn’t that bird be he?

‘I can fly as well as any,’ he boasted to the breezes as he flew over the Inn’s fence and toward the forested foothills. Below him, along the bare wintered ground, he could see other of the animals fanning out, taking up their watches as owl had suggested. He shivered for a moment deep within his coat of feathers, thinking how awful it would be to be bound to the earth . . . unable to take wing.

He got, finally, to the line of trees which stood at the edge of the foothill forest. With only the barest of fluttering noises he landed on the middle layer of branches of one of the taller trees. Wren pressed his body in against a small clump of brown, withered leaves and stood stock still, his little eyes roving about as he took in the forest floor below. From his vantage point, he could see the bare, snowy ground, the rocky outcroppings between the forest and the village’s wall.

“Well, so far, so good,’ he whispered to himself, noting nothing ominous in the scene spread out before him. ‘Not too hard, at least for someone such as I . . . this being a hero . . .’

[Child of the 7th Age]

Owl sat on the topmost branch of the tallest pine that towered over the highest slope of the Iron Hills, gazing out at the rugged fields and heavy thickets. He had finally finished giving each of the animals their particular assignment. Most of the smaller animals as well as the youngest ones had been told to stay hidden in the back courtyard of the Inn, while others were sent out to patrol a particular area, fanning out along the road and over the meadows to hunt for any sign of the shadow Wraith. He had warned each of them to keep their distance from the creature and to return to the Inn immediately if they noticed any signs of the Wraith.

Inside his head, Own checked off the names of each bird and beast that he had given his instructions to. He was nearly finished with his accounting when he suddenly recalled that one name had been missing from his list. He could not remember seeing or speaking with the Wren. It would be just like that brave and headstrong bird to take off on his own without even a word to anyone at the Inn. Owl had spent the next hour anxiously on the wing, gliding about high in the sky while he searched for the young bird.

It wasn't until he'd given up and head back to the Green Man Free House that his efforts met with some success. There, nestled in a small tree, staring down at the bare, snowy ground, was Wren. The little one had reached the outskirts of the village and crossed beyond its wall, but had not yet made it to the outskirts of the deep forest.

Owl hesitated a moment, uncertain what to do. His first instinct was to go up to the bird and scold him thoroughly for taking off on his own without a single word or warning and without the help of a partner. All the other creatures had been instructed to go out in groups of two and three so they would be able to help each other should any danger or difficulty arise. By all rights, he should order the Wren to return to the Inn. Still, he wavered. He remembered a time from his own past. He'd been a young owlet then and had seen the other birds of prey gliding out on patrol to keep watch for a party of particularly virulent two-leggeds. His mother had warned him to stay hidden in the nest, but he had disregarded her admonition and taken off on his own. It had not been the wisest thing to do but he could not live with himself and hide his head when others were going out to perform their duties. And just a little piece of Owl had wanted to accomplish something important and have others recognize what he'd done.

In an instant, Owl made his decision. He would glide high above the little bird and stay behind for some distance, yet close enough that he could keep an eye on things and make sure Wren did not get in serious trouble. Later, when all this was over, he would give the little bird a stern lecture on the importance of not going off on one's own without a single word to anyone.

Although he was tiny, Wren was bright and often noticed things that others did not see. Moreover, he always seemed to drag himself out of whatever trouble he managed to get himself into (and there had been many such episodes). Perhaps that was due to his quick wit, or was simply a matter of luck. In either case, Owl decided to give Wren the freedom to explore under a distant, watchful eye. He hoped he would not come to regret that decision.

[Arry]

Willem felt chilled by what the others in the room were saying about the creature. Andwise’ traps would do no good against such a one. And hard to think that, as his brother was among the best trappers in their little village. He watched as Andwise sighed and shook his head, perplexed about what he now heard about the creature who was after Wenda.

‘Granny?’ he asked, slipping quietly into a chair near the old woman. ‘May I sit by the fire with you?’ He picked up a small sprig of holly and threw it into the heart of the flames. It flared up, struggling it seemed to escape the greedy fire. There was no hope for it, though; it withered. And turning to ash, fell into the blaze and disappeared.

‘Death is coming, isn’t it Granny? Shadowy death.’ He held out his hands to the fire, trying to warm them. ‘Will the Green Man hold against it?’

[Undómë]

‘Well now,’ returned Goody, turning just enough to see his profile as the Halfling stared into the fire. The light bathed his face, highlighting the small creases at the corners of his eyes. They would be from laughter, she thought, and not the marks of one who is too serious. Yet here he is, his brow furrowed with worry; his eyes narrowed as he considered the flames.

‘I think you be wanting a simple answer, Master Willem.’ She poked at the Yule log, making the sparks fly up. ‘And I wonder, too, which Green Man you speak of – the one who walks the forest or this Inn which bears his name. Which one, Willem?’

‘I could say “yes”. The Green Man will hold against the shadow.’ She saw the hope flare up in his eyes as she spoke. ‘The Inn will stand and all within will be safe.’

‘But, then I could say “no”. The Green Man waxes and wanes; it is his nature. Light and dark push against one another; death pushes against life; old makes way for new, and in turn new turns old and so it goes.’ She smiled at him, giving his upturned face a long, considering look.

‘You’ll be safe, Willem,’ she said quietly to him, her hand laid reassuringly on his arm. ‘You stay here . . . with Old Goody.’ She nodded at the others in the room. ‘Let them do what they need to be doing and we’ll do ours. The fire must be fed, the log kept burning.’

[piosenniel]

For a while . . . a very short while, to be exact . . . wren sat still as a twig on the tree’s limb. His little black eyes looked all about and up and down, expecting to see his quarry. But all there seemed to be were a few snow flakes swirling lazily down from the skiffs of snow on the branches above him and a shredded old brown leaf blown about on the breeze.

‘Pish-tosh! Stuff and nonsense - this sitting about spying on snowflakes!’ He eyed one closely that had landed near his foot. ‘Not menacing at all,’ he declared. Wren fluffed out his feathers and hopped out to the end of the branch he’d perched on.

A ways away, he could see the forest proper. Tall balsams, dark green with snow hung boughs, sidling up the sides of the foothills. In the distance he heard the harsh kaw! of a raven followed by several excited caws. There, in the forest, under the shadows of the trees, something of interest was going on.

Wren flitted silently from tree to tree, making his way toward where he’d heard the call . . .

[Envinyatar]

Before Stamo could answer Mara, Mori motioned to him from the kitchen’s door. Stamo in turn nodded for his companion to come into the common room, and asked him to share his news.

‘This is a very old, very powerful being and so must be approached in a very cautious manner,’ began Mori. ‘Or so I have heard from someone who knows this creature all too well. He says the creature hates the light of day. That his power wanes with the rising of the sun, his strength and resolve will be at their weakest . . .’

‘His recommendations, then . . .’ prompted Stamo.

‘That somehow his lair need be found, where he settles down to rest as the sun comes up. And if he can be set upon then, then there is a greater chance of besting him.’

‘And that’s all there is to it? That’s his advice?’ Stamo raised his brows a look of disbelief on his face.

‘Well, no,’ admitted Mori. He sat down in a chair, motioning for a mug of something to drink. ‘There was also the instruction to stay hidden, let him get no whiff of your approach. And, oh, yes . . . never look directly upon his shadowy visage or form. It seems that if you do that, then you will rue the day you ever walked upon earth.’

And I am ruing the day we ever did walk in middle-earth . . . Stamo’s eyes flicked quickly to Mori’s face.

Still, we must help as we can. We are obliged to do so. Mori’s gaze was intent on his companion.

In a way . . . but not here. We should not have come. I told you that.

Mori shrugged almost imperceptibly. Still, here we are . . .

Stamo’s brow furrowed. It was an old argument between them. And one that would not be resolved at present. He resigned himself to giving in to what the present moment demanded. The sooner this was resolved the sooner they could move on.

He turned back to Mara. ‘I do not know the answer to your first question, Mistress. It is an evil thing, a creature of shadow, of darkness. I would not begin to think as it does, to ferret out its foul reasoningss. As for your second concern – I’ll say yes, the creature will grow more powerful, more dangerous. I think it would be best if we do not wait for events to give proof to that. Better to kill the snake before it grows another rattle and bites, or so I have always thought.’ He paused for a moment, considering how her last question might be answered. In the end, he chose the simplest answer. ‘And, no, to your third question . . . though it takes a body to sustain it, it is not tied to that form. Its spirit will survive the body’s death and seek out another.’

Stamo sighed and sat down heavily in a chair. He rubbed the back of his neck, finally settling in to rest, chin in his palm as his elbow rested on the table.

Well, that was rather abrupt. True, to be sure . . . but rather precipitate in the telling. Mori shook his head. He knew Stamo would not be prodded any further.

The Inn had grown quiet, as those in the common room listened to what the man had said. Mori stood up and spoke softly to those gathered. ‘All is not lost – as it would seem from what my friend has said.’ He paced a little between the tables. ‘We do not know where the creature is. If you will find it and flush it out. Then we will see it taken care of.’

You hope we see it taken care of! Stamo sighed again. You are such a dreamer sometimes. I know, as well, as do you, that we have no idea what the outcome might actually be.

[littlemanpoet]

Wenda had heard Mori's and Stamo's words, and had overheard those of Goody. It seemed there were more allies than she could have hoped; if only it would make a difference.

Wenda was scratching White Paw's ruff when it happened. Pada and Muna were calling to her, pulling at her. She did not know whether she was safer in this skin or the other. It did not matter, the pull was upon her. Sometimes she did not feel it for months; sometimes the next pull was only hours after the last. Fear added to its urgency. I must get outside. She marked that she was holding onto White Paw's fur, and he was becoming ill at ease and started to back away. She let go and stood abruptly.

Mara looked up, concerned. "Are you well?"

"I must see to the needs of my reindeer," she murmured, and rushed out of the room, trying not to stagger. She went to Pada and Muna. They were pulling her to loose them. She undid their harness with feverish hands.

Mara had followed her; but by the time she had come into the waning sunlight, she saw three reindeer running away from the sledge and out of the grounds of the Green Man.

[piosenniel]

Almost hidden in the shadows of a tall balsam’s boughs perched a single raven. A look out for his companions below as they cawed in excitement and flapped their wings and pecked one another in order to get closer in to their meal. Wren glided in silently to a nearby tree, his eyes searching the small clearing.

The snow was bloodied and thrown up in heaps here and there as if a great struggle had gone on. Now on its dark red little hills and valleys the footprints of predators crossed and recrossed the clearing. All gone now save for the dark dusting of ravens that feasted on the remains.

It was a deer, a large buck to be exact that lay on the icy bed. Wren shuddered wondering what animal had brought it down. The antlered head was torn off, and rested where it was thrown against the base of a thick fir. Eyes open, it stared at its own remains as the birds stripped ribbons of its flesh from the carcass. The great buck’s back was broken, its limbs twisted at odd angles . . . as if something had toyed with the deer. It seemed not a clean kill - not one meant for food. Wren’s mind took in with horror that this might have been the handiwork of the dark creature.

With a loud warning call, the sentinel raven glided across the clearing, calling the others away. They answered his call and took wing, leaving the carcass to its snowy bed. There had been a noise, as of some beasts crashing through the trees a ways away. Wren flitted from tree to tree, keeping in the shadows, as he neared the source.

Three reindeer plunged in under the branches of the outlying trees. What are they doing here, the little bird wondered, cocking his head at them as they passed beneath his perch. Curiosity drove him after them.

[Nerindel]

“Oh Wenda!” Mara sighed shaking her head sympathetically, her brow creased with worried concern as she watched the fleeing forms of the reindeer race from the grounds towards the dark silhouette of the forest against the dying light.

She hesitated then glancing back at the door which she had just come through, where the others sat over supper contemplating and planning how to survive this thing when it came and come it would! Deep down inside she believed this to be inevitable. She knew that she should return and tell the others of Wenda’s flight, but Master Stamo’s words still echoed in her mind… 'I’ll say yes, the creature will grow more powerful, more dangerous. I think it would be best if we do not wait for events to give proof to that. Better to kill the snake before it grows another rattle and bites,' by the time she went back inside relied what she had seen and a search party arranged it might already by to late.

Besides she had promised herself that she would stay close to the young woman, partially out of guilt for having taken the woman’s recount on their first meeting so lightly to heart, but mostly because she had formed a strange affinity with the young changeling, both hunters of sorts and both embodied with gifts that they would probably never fully understand and that would ever be coveted by the greedy and the wicked.


Her mind finally made up she turned from the inn and hurried out in to the fading light, following the deep tracks left by the reindeer in the soft snow. Into the forest she followed, careful to avoid any of the halfling‘s traps. Fresh deer tracks and a broken twig here and some ripped up foliage there marked easily the reindeers passage and if the snow held off she would have no trouble tracking them, it was the catching up to them that was her main concern, although raised by elves she had not their pace and if Wenda and her deer did not rest, there was little hope that she would catch up at all.

Hope is with us!

Again it was Stamo’s words that echoed in her mind and although she could not yet see what hope he spoke off she held to what little she had and hurried on hoping beyond hope that she could find Wenda and convince her to return to the relative safety of the inn.. at least until an adequate plan could be devised to see off this evil.

[piosenniel]

As wren rested for a moment on the tip of a snowy fir, yet a second noise caught his ear, as if something were following behind the reindeer he pursued. The little bird pushed in among the shadows of the needles and stayed very still. ‘What if it’s that creature?’ he thought to himself. ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ he muttered, shivering a bit. He was alarmed to find that his slight movement had shaken a bit of the snow down from his perch.

He watched with a horrified fascination as the falling flakes trailed down toward the floor of the forest, some of them falling on a cloaked figure below. He held his breath and snapped his eyes shut just in case the fading day’s light would give him away somehow.

Then a certain realization poked at his thoughts and he opened his eyes wide as the figure passed on beneath him. It was a rather smallish figure. Not that the wightish one need be large, but this one seemed fairly unimposing. And it didn’t glide along above the ground as he supposed a wight might do. No . . . there were definitely bootmarks in the snow.

Wren flitted on to another perch in front of the new figure. A low branch, hardly one wing’s span above the pursuer. He peered hard at him . . . No! Her! It was one of the women from the Inn.

His little bird’s brain began to put two and two together . . . or at least one and three. One of those reindeer was Wenda! And this other had gone after her. Now what was that name he’d heard the other two-leggeds call her? ‘Think, you addlepate!’ he chided himself. ‘Mara!’ That was it.

He was now in a quandary. What would a hero do? Should he follow them further to see their destination? What? What? In the end, he decided his little version of hero would need assistance. He knew the general direction the two women and the reindeer were heading. And he would be of no use if they were to be attacked. One cold look from the creature’s eyes, he imagined, and his stiff little body would be found feet up on the snowy ground. In the end he opted to fly back with all the speed he could muster to find Owl.

‘Owl! Owl!’ he cried, a bit surprised to find the old bird nearly to the forest himself. ‘You must turn round and tell the tall men I’ve seen Wenda and two of her deer crashing through the forest and behind them is the other woman following after them it seems . . . Mara.’ He gave Owl a bird’s eye description of where the women were and what direction they were headed. He stomped about on the branch he’d perched on waiting for the other bird to answer, all the while thinking that while Owl sped back with the news, he’d best be back on his way to keep an eye on those females . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

Owl fumed and fussed, dismayed that he hadn't been careful enough to keep his presence hidden from Wren. Worse than that, the small bird now seemed determined to follow the reindeer and the woman! For one instant, Owl considered ordering Wren to go back to the Inn, while he continued chsing after the fleeing party. But one look at Wren's perky eye and cheeky demeanor told him this wasn't likely to work. Determined to prove his worth, Wren would sneak back, and no one at the Inn would have the slightest idea what was going on. Owl decided to give in, but not without a getting in a shot or two.

"I don't like this. I don't like it at all, Wren. You shouldn't have left without my permission. And now you've put us in a very hard place. Yes, indeed. Someone should fly back to the Inn.....someone responsible who is articulate and aware of the gravity of the situation, someone who can impress upon the two-leggeds how they must help. Presumably that someone is me. You must follow these silly creatures, and not let them out of your sight. But you had best stay well hidden. No one is to see you, and you are absolutely not to speak with anyone, or it will go very poorly with you when you return to the Inn. Do you understand me?"

Owl drew himself up to his full height and spread out his wings, taking off in the direction of the Inn. It was not long before he saw the outline of the Green Man Free House. Coming into the courtyard, he alit on the window ledge and again banged strenuously on the pane, calling out loudly. "Mori, Stamo, where are you two? We are in grave danger. We need your help. Wren is out in the woods, taking on the whole world by himself. He's managed to find Mara and the deer fleeing northwards some distance from here."

Owl quick reported on where the women were and exactly what direction they were going. "Please come quickly," he pleaded. "You can follow me. Just give me one minute to arouse that rascal Tevildo. I promised to tell him if I found anthing unusual. I don't suppose I could persuade one of you to let him ride on your shoulder? I know that puffball doesn't like to admit this, but he's really a bit small and out of shape. Still, he seems to know a lot about things that go about in the shadows." Owl looked over at the two-leggeds, waiting for a reply.

[littlemanpoet]

Pada, Muna, and Wenda raced deeper into the darkening forest. Wenda smelled fear. She felt the snow and ground beneath her quick hooves. Away, away! Away from the fear! But where were they runnning to? It did not matter. Pada and Muna did not know what Wenda had heard in the stable for two-leggeds. All they knew was that there had been word among them of someone strong, someone akin to ground and snow and tree and thistle, home in the wind and cold. Pada and Muna asked her, What did they say of this someone? A strange and hidden one, this someone, sometimes strong, sometimes not. In winter? In the fear of no-more-running? Strong against fear, weak in winter when all the land is sleeping.

They raced through the ever thickening woods, the dark fir trees closing in around them. But reindeer may pass through the narrowest of ways; all they need is the width of their horns, less if they had no horns. Fleet and silent they moved, their hooves the only sound, passing through thick groves, through quick cold creeks, around ice covered ponds, wending north and up, ever up. The land climbed slowly here, slowly to the feet of the northern mountains.

They paused at twilight. The wind had died. Surely they were far from the fear. The branches of the firs moved around them. They moved again, trotting now, careful of the branches that moved in no wind. They stopped. Eyes. Before and above them. Two of them. Deep green. A long face went with the eyes, and a longer body, with feet that hugged the ground like evergreen roots. It looked at them for a long while. Transfixed, they stared back.

"What have we here?" asked the deep, woody voice. "Three reindeer far from the plains?" It looked closely and carefully at each one of them. "But one of you is more." Its eyes rested on Wenda.

Wenda could not speak to it as a reindeer. She gave off her fur and changed. She was so cold! Now she wished she had not given so to the panic of hte moment, and brought at least a thread of clothing with! She shivered in the cold snow, and folded her arms around her.

"Hmm!" it said. "Like one of our wives."

"Are-" her teeth chattered "-you .... the .... Green Man?"

His eyes seemed to receded into depths of thought. "I do not know of what you speak. What do you fear?"

[Envinyatar]

Stamo appeared to cast his eyes upwards at Owl’s words. Was he sending off some quick plea for strength and assistance? It was hard to tell. But from the quick, sharp look Mori gave him it seemed the tall man’s thoughts might be of a different tenor.

‘Right, then,’ he murmured, fastening his cloak about his shoulders once he’d stood up. He handed Mori’s cloak over, and stood holding their staffs as his companion buckled the clasp and pulled it round about him to his satisfaction.

‘We’ll follow after you, Master Owl,’ Mori said, taking his own staff in hand. Owl perched on his shoulder as they went out into the kitchen’s courtyard. Tevildo was there, keeping watch from his perch on the stone wall.

‘You take the cat!’ Stamo whispered low to Mori. He placed Owl on his own shoulder for the moment and urged his friend forward toward the feline. ‘Makes me sneeze,’ Stamo confided in a hushed tone to Owl. ‘Something fierce! Wouldn’t want that now, would we as we’re trying to go quietly after the two ladies . . . and the creature?’

[littlemanpoet]

It is not far now. There is an entire dwelling where she has gone. My appetite is increasing again. You have become quite akin to cartilage, my dear former village chieftain. Most tasty of all the souls, what with your courage mixed with all that delectable fear. Quite nice.

Not as nice as the veritable banquets of ages agone when My Lord still sat the Throne. Those were the days. Did I tell you I was his chief chef? I did? Well, I never tire of telling my quarries about it. Those were indeed the days. Have you ever tasted an Elven Fëa? Nothing like it. Oh, and the recipes I created. My Lord rewarded me well. Basting, roasting, broiling, filleting of fëar, so many different ways to prepare them for My Lord's table. Spices of all kinds: threats, false promises, stories of rapacious deeds done to kindred. I became fat upon the rich fare. And My Lord was most appreciative of even of the refuse from my dishes. There were orcs from the Elves and trolls from the Ents. Dwarven and Human refuse did not seem to keep well enough. The former hardened to naught but blasted stone while the latter shriveled and fell to ruin, their fëar slipping away to we knew not where. Just as yours is sure to do. And that is what makes me so famished! I need something more lasting. That is why I seek her. She is double-fëa. They are rare.

But lo! She runs away from the dwelling. Then we must turn aside, you and me. Do not look at me that way. I know it seems painful now, but you will fade away to nothing and then be free of pain forevermore. Some of my kind say that you will go beyond the walls of the world, but I do not think so. There is not enough to you.

See you the small sparks of fëar in the trees and slipping along the ground, thinking they are hidden from me? Silly little scraps of nothing. Too small to be more than a mere after dinner sprig of mint. They hide as if I seek such drivel. Silly.

But ah! There is somewhat other at that dwelling! How did I not see it before. And two of them! And now they seem to be moving in the same direction as the double fëa! I do believe that I know them! Strong fëar, these! Indeed, I do believe that they may be just the answer for my famished appetite. You are a mere bone the marrow of which has been sucked dry. I need you no longer. I have new quarry - most delicious! - to hunt down. Oh, the delightful recipes I can try! The spices to be used! What means would work best for their preparation? Basting? What stories do I know? What despair can I set into their minds? We shall see, we shall see!

[Tevildo]

Tevildo did not want to be left out of the adventure and reluctantly agreed to have the men carry him wherever they were going. Still, he had not been pleased that he would be toted along like a piece of spare baggage. Even after Mori picked him up, Tevido had trouble finding a comfortable place to perch. He had tried sitting on one shoulder and then the other, but the tall man had objected when Tevildo's claws had extended down into the thick folds of his robe scratching the soft skin underneath. Mori had finally agreed that the best thing Tevildo could do was to crawl inside his large pouch and stick his head up, peering over the edge.

The ride was uncomfortable and bumpy. The men paid the cat little attention as they strode briskly towards the north. Once or twice, Tevildo had started a bit of mild caterwauling, objecting to the fact that the men were not showing him adequate care or respect. Mori and Stamo were apparently oblivious to his discomfort, and, despite his pleas, all he’d gotten in return had been a stern glance and an admonition to be quiet. Miserable and bored, he’d finally fallen asleep in the pack.

Dreams claimed Tevildo quickly…..deep, disturbing dreams of the ugly creature who had so terrified him long ages before. First, he was doing the hunting, tracking down the miserable creature and his minions but too quickly the tables turned, and he had become the hunted. Deep shadows reached out to grab him, threatening to pull him apart from ear to tail and leave him limp and lifeless. With great effort, the cat pulled himself up to consciousness and slowly pried open one eye, grateful that he was intact and breathing and alive.

The thing must be gone. Tevildo purred in relief, kneading his claws into Mori’s back out of the sheer joy of being alive. But then he waited and listened. At the far edge of his awareness, in the mysterious recesses of the mind that warn a hunter what creatures are up and about, Tevildo again felt the heavy presence. Only it did not seem to be directed at him, but rather at the tall two-leggeds. Strangest of all, the thing was in back of them and, though distant, seemed to be getting closer.

Tevildo’s fur stood completely on end. He leapt out of the pouch and bounded upward, this time landing on Mori’s head, unsheathing his claws and hanging on as tightly as he could, while shouting out a warning. “You, fools, Mori and Stamo. Do something. This thing is following us…..maybe one, maybe two. I do not know what it is. But it is dark and heavy, and it seems particularly interested in the two of you.”

[littlemanpoet]

Wenda drew Pada and Muna close to her sides and hugged them, then proceeded to tell the Ent, as he called himself, of her fear. With many a hoom and hom and haroom and even a harumph, he listened to her whole tale, with a few sprinkled in encouragements not to be hasty despite her chattering teeth. Finally she finished.

"Hoom! Hom! One thing I would like to ask you, Wenda skin changer."

"What is that?" she stuttered.

"Does your kind turn blue? I have never seen it before."

"O-only when we are too cold."

"Hoom! Then maybe it is time for haste. Hm yes! I think you should return to your other shape."

"But th-then I won't-t b-be ab-ble t-to t-talk-k!"

"Hoom now. Nor will you for long in the shape you wear!"

Wenda saw the sense of the Ent's words, and turned to her two friends. It always helped to think of them when she turned.

"Mm-hm!" nodded the Ent. "You will live. Now, I must spend some time thinking about what to do." The Ent lifted his eyes and looked over the heads of the three reindeers. "There is someone coming. No, do not fear! Oh no, room hoomty room toom! I think this is not the shadow you fear. Oh no, room toom. Let us wait and see who comes."

Wenda, Pada, and Muna turned and looked the in the direction the Ent was calmly looking. Coming between the firs was a hooded figure, dressed warm against the cold, whose breath came as if having used much strength to move as quickly as able. Wenda knew the shape of the figure. It was Mara. Wenda trotted forward to greet her.

[Arry]

‘Do you think they will fare well?’ Willem had gotten himself and Old Goody a cup of tea each. Hers he had laced with a little of the spirits the cook had got down from her shelf. ‘Might ease her up a bit,’ cook had confided to him, though for the life of him he could not understand what needed easing.

‘The big folk,’ he went on in explanation as she turned her face toward him. ‘They’ve gone after Miz Wenda and Miz Mara.’ He frowned for a moment, looking down into the depths of his tea as if to find answers. ‘At least I think that’s where they’ve gone.’

‘Funny, isn’t it?’ he said after a gulp from his steaming mug. ‘How the owl seems to be talking to them and then he listens, too, as they talk in that pretty language.’ He nodded his head as a few of the words in Quenyan that he’d caught ran through his mind. He tried them out on his tongue, smiling as he got them round to how he thought he’d heard the two tall mean speak them.

‘There are places along The Great River . . . up where it narrows, near the northern mountains, where the white barked aspen trees grow.’ He knew he was rambling now, but it was pleasant to do so and it took his mind from the looming dangers in the shadows beyond the village wall. ‘In the autumn, their leaves turn all of a golden color. And when the cold breezes blow they shimmer in the pale sun and rustle prettily. And sometimes it seems behind the touch of leaf on leaf there are the sounds of some fair voices singing one to another, in some old tongue just barely out of hearing.’ He chewed on the corner of his lip, a habit of old, as he recalled the images of those trees against the dark mountains.

‘The words the tall men used . . . they reminded me of that,’ he said. ‘Trees in their last glory before the cold of winter shook off their leaves and covered them with snow.’

[Undómë]

Goody sniffed her mug of tea and nodded at what the rising steam had told her. She raised her head and saw Cook standing just to the side of the doorway from the kitchen. Before the woman could duck out of site, Goody raised the mug to her lips and took a sip, giving the woman a wink as she did so. Though, once the cook was out of sight, she sat the mug on the hearth to keep warm, knowing it was most likely she would drink no more of it.

‘Do you think they will fare well?’ Willem’s question brought her attention back round to him; she watched him as he spoke. And she could just barely hear the flow of words he tried out in that tongue the two old masters had spoken. ‘Or perhaps “old Lords”,’ she thought. Not Elvish lords, though they had that other worldly sense about them. As if they trod here on this familiar ground her own feet rested on, and yet stepped lightly, too, in places just beyond her reckoning. Lords of some power and of grace who saw fit to keep those under their charge safe. ‘And with whose bidding do they come?’ she wondered. Not from twisted shadowed halls, there was too much of light shone in their eyes and in their aspect.

‘Yes, I think they will fare well, Willem.’ She gave him that simple answer and kept the reasonings to herself.

‘And you . . .,’ she went on, giving him a wide smile. ‘That was a lovely image you conjured for old Goody. ‘And though my eyes have never beheld such trees, yet your words brought them right to life. I could see and hear them truly.’ She leaned back and gave him a long sideways look as if taking his measure. ‘You would make a great story-teller, you know!’ She nodded and cackled a bit at her new image of him. ‘In the great lords’ halls I’ve heard tell they’re called bards and have places of honor at the table. They wander, these story-tellers and collect bits and pieces of things they’ve seen or heard about and weave them into stories and songs.’

She poked at the fire, stirring up the flames. ‘Yes, I could see you doing that . . .’

[Nerindel]

Mara’s Relief was apparent as she stepped out from between the firs and looked up to see a young Reindeer trotting boldly towards her, it was not in the nature of these fast fleeted creatures to do so, so at once she knew that she had found the young skin-changer she had been so ardently tracking.

“Wenda” she greeted, as a mixture of fear and anxiety that had tormented her on discovering the horrifically mutilated corpse of a full grown buck someway back now melted away, replaced by the almost overwhelming joy that the young changer was alive and well, if still not entirely safe in her mind.

“I thought ….” she paused looking back into the darkness of the forest behind her, recalling the torment mirrored in the unfortunate creatures dead eyes, “Well it doesn’t matter what I thought you are here and well, but you should have never…..” she was about to admonish Wenda for running off like she did when she suddenly had the feeling of being watched, she looked up to see a pair of deep green eyes peering out at her from beneath thick evergreen brows.

She stared her eyes wide with astonishment and wonder as half remembered songs sung by the elves of her forest home danced in her mind, they told of a time when the elves and the trees of the forests would commune, sharing both knowledge and lore, so that not much happened within the forest realms without tree or elf knowing it. But that was long ago, ages past and it was said that many grew root and became bitter and twisted, to which many of her foster kin attributed to an old enemy they named Morgorth, who despised and sought to corrupt the beauty of Yavanna’s gardens and that now only the Tree herders could control and subdue the bitterness sown within the hearts of those trees. She had thought these songs no more that fairytales sung purely to intrigue and entreat the revealers at feast, but here before her stood in all it’s greenery was proof that the shepherds of the forests truly existed.

“, A Friend, Wenda Skin changer?” The Ents deep woody voice rumbled, suddenly breaking Mara’s awed silence. That as Wenda nodded, she again found her voice.

“A friend I am, my name is Maranwe of the Greenwood.” she introduced herself.

“Hoom Hom A name of the old tongue yet you are no elf! room hoomty room toom!”

“ Indeed no, orphaned as a small child the elves took pity, naming and raising me in the manner of their own, but if I may master Ent by what name should we address you?”

“Hoom, the Names of Ents are long and take a long time to say, but you are a hasty folk, Mm-hm Greenbeard I was once named, haroom, yes I think that will do now.”

“Then well met master Greenbeard, but I do not think we should linger over long here, a Darkness hunts in this forest, it’s prey I fear already marked.” her hand reached sympathetically to stroke Wenda’s deep fur in an attempt to allay what fears her words would bring the young skin changer.

A dull throbbing had began to press at her temples, as Greenbread urged her not to be hasty, but she was already thinking ahead, if she had managed to track Wenda then so to could this thing she had thought anxiously and she told Greenbeard and Wenda so. But perhaps Greenbeard was right, perhaps if she had been less hasty she may have thought to cover their tracks better, but there was no changing that now so she thought it best not to dwell on it.

She then asked Greenbeard if he knew of somewhere they could at least rest for awhile and think about what they would do now, her plan had been to convince Wenda to return, but now she was unsure weather they could do so safely. The throbbing increased and she winced, rubbing at her temple as she waited for Greenbeard to reply.

[Envinyatar]

‘If you shout a little louder,’ hissed Mori, prying the cat from his scalp, ‘perhaps you can tip the creature to the fact we know he’s following us.’ Stamo took the protesting Tevildo from his companion’s hands and placed it on the ground.

Crouching down, the two men spoke quietly with Tevildo and with Owl. ‘We know he is hungry for us,’ Mori began. ‘He has turned his attention on us for some time now. We can feel his need; the rapacious desire for our fëar. And it is better that he follow and find us than those two unarmed women.’

‘It would be most helpful to us,’ Stamo continued, ‘if somehow news of what is happening could be gotten to Mistress Mara and to Mistress Wenda. Though at the moment, I am at a loss as to how to accomplish that.’ He looked to Mori. ‘It would be best I think if we two did not separate, but met the creature in tandem.’

Mori nodded his head at this. His gaze slid to where Owl sat on a downed tree trunk. ‘We are unfamiliar with this place and this forest, is there something you can think of that might be of help to alert the women?’

Tevildo sat on the fir needled floor of the little clearing where they had stopped, his ears twitched and his keen nose took in the scents carried by the breezes. ‘And you, Tevildo,’ Stamo asked, ‘what do you wish to do. Stay with us or follow along after Owl?’ He looked in the direction from which they’d come. ‘We mean to keep ourselves between him and his other prey.’

[littlemanpoet]

Pada, Muna, and Wenda watched and listened to Mara and Greenbeard talk. Wenda felt safe. Safe like she had not felt since that fateful day far to the north when she had chased the wolves away from the tusker. She was not sure that Greenbeard could stand against such a foe as the wraith that followed them, but somehow it did not matter so much.

"Hoom now," Greenbeard said, "the safest place I know of, hoom hom." His eyes seemed to twinkle as if with light reflecting upon two pools of water. "Why, the safest place is Fir Hill, my home. It is not far from here. Would you like to go there?"

"Master Greenbeard," Mara said, holding her head, "your legs are long and mine are short. How far is not far?"

"Hoom now! That is a good question! It is one thousand Ent strides, not for at all. But for you, room toom, it might be a long way."

Mara sagged and winced. She was quite tired, and the pain in her head did not lessen. "I think it would take me all night."

"Hoom hom roomba hom! That will not do. Wenda and her friends can keep up well enough. Maybe it would be best if I carry you. What do you think of that?"

[Tevildo]

The cat glared at Mori and quickly responded, "I think I shall stay with you. With all respect good sirs, you have far greater power than I have. I think I would feel safer here. Even more importantly, I would rather not spend long, tedious hours in the company of that stuffed shirt Owl. " Tevildo made sure to lower his voice so Owl would not hear either of these comments.

With the difficult part out of the way, Tevildo stretched and walked over to a nearby puddle, spending some time admring his reflection by the light of the moon. Then he began to purr in satisfaction. "You know, I do have one modest advantage over you two. Having some understanding of the darker ways may be an asset here. I know how a creature like this thinks, and I may be of some service to you in this regard."

With that, Tevildo gave a quick bow and leapt up on the two-leggeds's shoulder disappearing into the depths of his satchel. He curled up contentedly and, within a moment or two, quickly fell asleep.

[littlemanpoet]

The shadow dropped the corpse and moved swiftly through the dim blacknesses of the variegated, intricate designs rendered into matter. Why did that One waste such effort on such uselessness? He never had understood that, had never cared to think on it. There was too much hunger, too much to please the pallate. And not far ahead now were the two of his own kind. He was hungry. He passed through the silent, dark, shadowy firs with their overly intricate designs (what use?), starving for such strong taste as these two offered.

There they were! He bloated and grew large to instill fear, for fear rendered the best delicacy to a nicety. The had perceived him. All the better. Fear me!

[Child of the 7th Age]

Stamo had written out a simple note on a small strip of pine bark, using a stone stained with soot to inscribe the letters and a picture. Then he had tied the message onto Owl's leg using a thin leather thong. Stamo was not sure whether Wenda or Mara would be able to read his simple words, but the sinister image of a dark shadow hanging over the trail just behind the two robed men would hopefully convey the basic idea to the women. If they were lucky, Wenda might even be able to understand Owl's speech.

With deliberate, powerful strokes, Owl made his way towards the north. Keeping close to the ground, he flew from perch to perch, carefully scanning the area for any sign of a small pack of reindeer followed by a human woman. The far North was home to Owl, and he was familiar with the territory and all the twists and turns of the forest and hills. He had been flying steadily for more than an hour when he glimpsed a small band of travellers, now off the trail and cutting over the fields.

Owl could see the reindeer and the human. More puzzling, however, was the tall treeish character who strode purposefully along the path, carrying the woman on his shoulder. Owl pulled up onto a branch overhead, wondering what to do. Could this gigantic figure be trusted, or was he an emissary of one of the dark shadows, the evil creatures that Tevildo described with such hard and bitter words? For one moment, Owl hesitated until he noticed that the animals and woman seemed content, even thankful, to be in the presence of the large tree thing.

Gliding down from the branch, Owl landed on the ground in front of the group and began to cry out in a loud voice: hooo-uh, hooo-uh, hooo-uh, wuh-wuh-wuh. He held out his leg with the message attached and hoped that someone would understand his words: how a dark and fearsome presence had crept up the path in back of the two-leggeds and now threatened to overtake them.

[Nerindel]

Mara had graciously accepted the Ent’s offer to carry her but almost at once she regretted her decision, as each giant step shook through her causing the pain in her temple to grow worse still. The sounds of the forest seemed to magnify, from the sound of hooves on soft snow, to the creaking of branches swaying on the wind, even the wind itself seemed to scream at her that something was ill. Then all of a sudden the forest went still and darkness rose up to met them, but still Greenbread walked on. Mara did not like this silence it reminded her ominously of her last vision and she did not like it one bit.

‘hooo-uh, hooo-uh, hooo-uh, wuh-wuh-wuh.’

Mara started at the sudden call in the darkness, then smiled as the Owl soared into view and came to landed before them, that one voice in the chill cold of the night gave her comfort.

“Ho Hum What is this I think wise master owl has something he wants to share Hoom rom” Greenbread rumbled as he lowered Mara carefully to the ground.

“I think you may be right” she replied noting the bird holding out its leg and hopping up and down excitedly hooting words that she could not understand.

“Something about a dark and fearsome presence and um some two -leggeds” Wenda said softly coming up beside her.

Mara turned surprised to see that the young skin changer had shrugged off her Reindeer form and stood now shivering in the cold, quickly she unclasped her winter cloak and wrapped it about Wenda’s shoulders.

“You look pale” the young woman noted.

“And you look like you will catch your death” she replied warmly

“I will be fine” she assured Wenda when the young woman merely frowned. “Now lets see what our wise friend is so eager for us to see.

Bending down she carefully relieved the bird of the bark attached to its leg and stood next to Wenda so that she could read it too. Black marks were carefully scratched across its surface, making runes similar to those she had learned from the elves, she recognised enough to know or at least guess at was written, but even if she hadn’t the picture sketched into the bottom made it very clear.

“It’s Mori and Stamo, they say they are in the forest and that the dark shadow is with them, they plan to draw it off, we are to find somewhere safe if we can and they say not to come back this way it is dangerous, they will find us when they can.” the two women looked at each other, their concern for the two men mirrored.

“They are more than they seem, I‘m sure they will be ok” Mara said finally though her words held little conviction. She felt Guilt, perhaps if she had told someone where she was going things would be different… or perhaps it would have been worse… well there really was no point dwelling on what was done or what could have been, what was done was done and nothing could change it, all she could do now was keep Wenda safe as she had planned and carry out the wishes of the two men.

As much as she wanted to go back and help, she knew this thing was beyond her and that keeping it from the young changer was all she could do right now. At least her gift would allow them to stay one step ahead of it or at least she hoped it would.

No sooner had the thought left her mind than a searing pain burned through her temples and she crumpled to her knees, her eyes rolled and her breathing became soft and shallow and she appeared in a trace of some kind.

The forest drew in around her, filled with a cold bitter darkness…..Fear Me! The words echoed in her mind filling her with such terror that she had never felt before. But in the still of the darkness was a light and as she listened a faint whisper of music carried on the air for a moment then was lost. A roar like thunder filled with anger and malice reeled up upon the light threatening to smother it, she cried out but no sound came. But wait something else moved behind the darkness shadowing it, a glint of metal and then it was gone . Another roar of frustrated anger………..

[Rose]

The great hound sped swiftly across the snow, slipping quietly beneath the outstretched branches of the firs as he reached the outer edges of the forest. This way! he told himself setting nose to ground to take up the scent of those he followed. A subtle scent, to be sure. But he found no difficulty in picking it out from all those which trailed across it.

He kept his eyes and ears alert. There was another scent, lingering in the night air. Foul it was, as if some bloated and decaying thing moved in his same direction. His hackles raised at the dark, evil stench of it, and in the ancient memories of his kind he felt a loathing and a hatred rise up against the curséd presence.

White Paw moved along the outskirts of this odious creature's path. Brave and big as he was, he knew he was no match for it. That must be left to those more powerful than he.

In caution, he’d circled around the two objects of his hunt, and now he came into their presence, just as the first surge and swell of shadowy fear crept toward them. They looked at him askance, but he walked slowly forward and stopping only a pace or two away, lowered his head as if in a bow.

My father sent me. To be your hound. To aid in the hunt and in the kill as I can.

He sniffed the leaden breeze, and bared his teeth at what it told him.

Seems, though, your quarry will soon find you. Still, as I heard you say, in the courtyard, you are your Master’s hounds . . . and in like will I be yours to see this hunt through to whatever doom may come for good or ill.

[Envinyatar]

Fear me!

An ocean of darkness spread over the forest floor. What once was white snow took on an inky hue. And even the thick trunked, tall trees were no proof against it. Miasmic waves rolled higher and higher, one upon the other, until even the fading light of evening was threatened to be quenched by it.

The two companions drew together; the hound gathered in close against them. Their backs pressed lightly together. Each held up the staff they’d brought; the fingers of their left hands wound tight about the thick dark wood of them. And all the while their open right hands were held shoulder high, palm outward, fingers standing tall together . . . the gesture of dispelling fear. In the eastern lands from where they’d journeyed it was the outer expression of their inner resolve. Their minds were calm; their breath steady. What light was left above them as the stars winked out glinted in their bright grey eyes.

Words hung in the air about them, though their lips seemed not to move. Soft, susurrant sounds like murmuring waves at first . . . gentle, almost, which pushed inexorably against the shadowy fear. They came more rapidly, then, in tones great and stern; the intricate syllables seeming much like the glitter of swords, like the rush of leaves in a great wind or the fall of stones in the mountains.

Akašân! they said as one. ‘He says!’

So be it . . . Akašân! they affirmed, the final n-sound sliding softly into silence.

They stood as stone, their eyes watchful, and about their still forms played a subtle and exquisite power.