The Long Winter RPG

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer waited for his tankard to fill, listening to the Innkeeper talk about travel in the countryside about Bree-land. The Innkeeper handed him the foaming pint, and Bullroarer took a long pull at it. He choked and spluttered on it, as his eye caught a furtive movement in the shadow of the wall to the left and far behind the bar. Someone was trying the handle to the door there.

‘Are you all right?’ the Innkeeper asked, concern on his face. Bullroarer coughed, saying ‘yes’, and would the Innkeeper please excuse him for a moment. Other customers had come up to the bar to place their orders, and the Innkeeper was called away by their demands for service.

Bullroarer set his pint down on the bar, and walked to where he had seen the familiar figure pause in the shadows. Branda! Coming up close to the Hobbits left ear, he spoke low.

‘Going somewhere, Master Branda?’

The nearness of the imposing Took caused him to stumble slightly, and he fell forward, pushing the door to the darkened room open. A single candle lantern lit the far wall of it, where another door stood closed.

Bullroarer had followed Branda into the room, closing the door behind him. He intended to scold the curious Hobbit about being impolite to their host. But paused as his eyes accustomed themselves to the dim light.

Now he looked about and wondered at this place. Sparely furnished with plain tables and chairs, there were maps tacked up on the walls. Maps of the all the lands from the Great Sea, east to the shadowed and unknown lands. Maps of the frozen regions and maps of the unknown regions of the south. There were arms and supplies piled in neat bundles to one side of the room. A meeting room, he thought. But for whom? He and Branda walked about the room, looking at but not touching the maps.

A sudden noise from the door across the room alerted him that someone was entering. No time to get back to the Common Room! He grabbed Branda by the collar and hauled him down behind a stack of boxes and trunks in one corner of the room. Putting his finger to his lips, he warned Branda to keep quiet as they crouched in their makeshift hiding place.

Cold air swept in from the outside, the sound of boots on the wooden floor echoed in the room’s silence, then the sound of the door being firmly shut against the wind and snow.

‘Well, Olo, for tonight, at least we have some shelter from the storm. Set those two braces of coney’s over there until we are unpacked. The Cook will have some good meat for stew and the bones to make stock with. Ask her to save the skins for me – I want to line some gloves with them.’

‘How about a pair for me, too, Volondil?’ came the reply from nearby. The sound of the conies frozen bodies unceremoniously dumped on one of the crate tops caused the two Hobbits to hold their breaths. ‘After all, I helped trap them and as I remember, correctly, I hauled them on my pack from the Weather Hills to here.’ The sound of good natured laughter filled the room.

Bullroarer nudged Branda, and brought his mouth close to the other’s ear. ‘One of those voices belongs to a Hobbit!’

[ArwenBaggins]

After putting her things away in the small room given to her, Dafodyl walked to the dusty stairs nearby, and started to walk down. ‘I wish I could feel my feet!’ she murmured under her breath. Her feet where pale, and they were starting to go blue. She felt as if she could drop all of Middle-Earth on them and not feel a thing.

She snapped back to reality as she smelt ale, conies, and stew when she reached the bottom step. There were big people and hobbits alike all over the place. She pushed her way through the crowd to Daisy, who was sitting at the bar.

"Pint of ale and a bowl of stew please." She said to the Innkeeper. She had to eat all she could when she had the chance, and save some for later if at all possible.

Once the ale and bowl was in her hand, she was already starting on it. The ale was pleasant, like the first time she had ever tasted it. The soup was steaming hot, and it was thick and juicy. It burned her lips as she sipped it, but she couldn’t tell. She was savoring every drop of it.

After her content meal, Dafodyl staggered over to a table where some of her hobbit companions were sitting. She sighed deeply, closed her eyes, and her thoughts started to drift and be drowned by the sounds of talking and laughter.

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* After a mug of mead and the heartiest meal of mutton stew he'd eaten all year, Giles sighed … and then, energy returned, shot up out of his seat and danced to the tune of a ringing fiddle and clapping hands keeping time. He grabbed Autumn by the hands and swung her around in circles till they both giggled with dizziness. *

Autumn, I was thinking. I didn't see you take a shield from the barrow chambers. So you and I can share. I can even rig a rope to the shield-handle and pull you like you're on a sled so you don't have to walk, though not for too long, since walking keeps you warmer than sitting when the snowy wind's a-blowing and you're out in it. And if we meet anything like wolves, you can use the shield, if you like. I'd only drop it and lose it, anyway.

* Autumn nodded. Suddenly shy after so much speech, Giles blushed and dashed away into a crowd of folk big and little ordering drinks, to pretend like he was going to order another mead. Safely lost from view within the thick of the crowd, Giles held his breath, closed his eyes, then dashed out again on soft feet to a quieter and more secret spot … *

* … and before he knew it, Giles found himself gravitating towards the closet, which was tucked away behind the bar, racing directly into its dark confines and skidding to a halt so that he missed by inches running smack-dab into the back of Branda and the front of Bullroarer! *

**************************************

Child's post


Branda and Bullroarer had held their breath for what seemed like an eternity. They hadn't moved an inch for fear they would be discovered. Branda's eyes were as round as saucers, and his heart was pounding so loudly he was certain that everyone in the room could hear it.

There were some scuffling noises and muffled conversation, which neither of the hobbits could clearly distinguish. The music from the common room outside could also dimly be heard. Then they made out the sound of soft footsteps heading in the direction of the hall and that door slowly opening and closing.

"Do you think we're safe?" Branda queried, literally shaking in his shoes. Bandobras might be used to this kind of frightening situation, but he certainly was not!

Bullroarer fiercely shook his head no and gestured wildly to Branda, telling him to take cover again. Then, with no warning, the door swung completely open. A small figure came hurtlng through the air. Branda froze, his feet rivetted in place to the ground. He was expecting to be found out and hauled away for summary execution, since he had once heard that these Rangers were very rough folk.

Abruptly, he felt his knees give way, as much from his own fear and trembling as any actual collision. He toppled over whatever had come hurtling through the door and actually pinned it to the ground, more from desperation than conscious intent.

But then, from below, a tiny voice was heard, one that sounded strangely familiar to him, "You're squashing me! Please get up." A hobbit poked his head from off the ground, and turned around with a quizzical expression. "Branda, Bullroarer, is that you? What are you doing here?"

Bullroarer growled under his breath, "Just great, that's Giles. Now there are three of us trapped." Bullroarer turned an angry face to the hobbit. He grabbed him by the collar and scooped him up, unceremoniously dumping him behind a barrel.

"Giles, What are you doing here?" Bullroarer demanded and glared down at the small figure, which was now crouched down into a small ball.

Giles looked up and smiled softly, "Actually, that's what I intended to ask you."

Bullroarer shook his head and growled again. Suddenly, the door creeked, and all conversation stopped. Three hobbits dived for cover behind the safety of the barrels.

[ January 10, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ January 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Ringwraith Number Two]

Lotho looked up from the fire and saw a young hobbit standing before him.

"Mr. Lotho, sir," said the hobbit quietly. "Well, I haven't spoken to you yet, but now's just a good a time as any. I figured that while we're safe and warm here in the inn, I might introduce myself." He stuck out his hand. "I'm Dinodas Green."
Lotho felt slightly surprised, and after slight hesitation, extended his own hand and shook Dinodas'. "Pleased to meet you, Mr Dinodas Green." He regarded the younger hobbit shrewdly for a few minutes. "What brings you here, young master?" he said, his eyes twinkling. He suddenly got up, told Dinodas that he would back in a moment, and soon reappeared with two foaming tankards.

"You can tell me over that, young master," he said, handing one to Dinodas. This would be interesting, thought Lotho. He knew what the young ones thought of him... but this one, he had approached him, despite the others' opinions. Lotho was quite liking this young hobbit.

[piosenniel]

‘Shut that door and bar it tight, Volondil. I doubt there will be any more of us stopping by the Inn tonight.’ Olo pulled out a chair and sank down into it. He pulled off his ragged gloves, rubbing his hands together briskly to get some feeling and warmth back into them. His snow dusted feet he propped on a chair he had pulled close, watching as Volondil barred the door. There had been too many strange, shadowy happenings of late, and neither Ranger wished to be pulled from their rest tonight to face them.

A three tap knock at the Common Room door brought them to attention. Volondil strode quickly to it, his ear against the wood. ‘It’s me.’ came the faint voice from without. The Cook, noting that they had arrived by the finding of the coneys laid out on the kitchen counter top for her, had brought them a small pot of stew, and a loaf of crusty bread.

Olo took the lid from the stew, and waved it over the savory steam rising from it, inhaling the aroma appreciatively. The Cook beamed as she watched him do it. ‘Oh!’ she said. ‘I almost forgot this.’ From the spacious pocket of her apron, she brought forth a small bottle of good, red wine and two clean glasses. ‘Here’s something from the Innkeeper to help wash it all down.’

Volondil gave a wink and a smile to the Cook, causing her to blush furiously. She dropped a small curtsy to the two Rangers, and quickly left the room, giggling like a silly young girl.

Silence, of a sort, ensued as the two tucked into their meal. Their bellies satisfied, they sat back, enjoying a last glass of wine.

It was at that inopportune moment that Bullroarer’s stomach chose to protest its own empty condition. The scent of the food and the sounds of spoons scraped over emptying bowls proved too much for it. It started as a small grumbliness, then worked its way up to a full rumble.

The Rangers stood quickly, overturning their chairs as they rose and drew their blades. Their gazes fixed on the area of the room from which the sounds had come. ‘What kind of animal is that?’ whispered Olo. They advanced toward the stack of barrels and crates, one to each side of it, sword in the attack position.

‘I don’t know,’ returned Volondil, circling to the right of the stack, as Olo took the left, ‘but it sounds big, and dangerous.’

Only the soft scuff of their boots and feet heralded the nearness of their approach. They had reached the corners of the stack, and Volondil was poised to thrust his longer blade behind it to flush out the unseen intruder from the shadows . . .

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* A cheery chuckle sounded from behind the stack of barrels and crates. Giles couldn't help it. On hearing the question, ‘What kind of animal is that?’ ... it suddenly occurred to the mild-spoken carpenter that here must be the explanation behind Bullroarer's strange name. *

[piosenniel]

Branda couldn’t stand it any more. He started giggling, a most undignified, and loud, sound. Bullroarer was horrified. First the rumbling of his empty belly, then Gile’s chuckling, and now this hysterical sound. He nudged Branda hard in the ribs, causing him to make a hiccupping sort of snort as the laughter was cut off by pain.

Olo and Volondil drew back a pace. The Hobbit raised his eyebrows at the Man. Volondil shrugged his shoulders, keeping his weapon at the ready. ‘What sort of beast is it that fits in so small a space?’ asked Volondil. ‘Yet sounds so strange, almost mad, in fact.’ He smiled at Olo, motioning for him to come near. Peeking just out from the shadowed edge of the crate near the wall was a foot, a decidedly hairy foot.

‘By the One!’ cried Olo, shaking his head at the discovery. ‘It’s a Hobbit we’ve got cornered!’ He beat the handle of his sword against the crates. ‘Come out of there you foolish kuduk!

Bullroarer grabbed both Giles and Branda by the collars and hauled them up and out from the hiding place. ‘Actually,’ he said, mustering as much calm and authority as he could in the present situation, ‘It’s three Hobbits you’ve got. Three very sorry Hobbits.’ He looked at the Rangers, just resheathing their blades. ‘Any chance I could stand you a pint or two, just to make up for disturbing your dinner?’

Olo narrowed his eyes as Bullroarer spoke, then burst out laughing. ‘My Stars!’ he said, pointing to where the Took stood. ‘Volondil, we’ve just captured Bandobras Bullroarer Took, hero of the Battle of the Greenfields!’

[Galadel Vinorel]

After Giles had left Auutmn, the lass had sat alone by hte fire enjoying the sweet music of the fiddle and the heat of the burning fire behind her. Going over to the fiddlers, Autmn pulled out her flute and asked to play with them. Sitting down beside the musicians she began to play her flute to the melody of th fiddlers, though an dlittle slowerer and softer.

Building up her tune, Auutmn began to play the flute louder and faster. Finally she matched the volume and speed of the fiddlers and they laughed began to increase in volume. Smiling at them the lass began to increase her volume as well. Finally the one of the fiddlers actually broke a string on his instrument from playing too hard, andf all the musicians laughed, and the music in the room cut off for a moment.

Then Auutmn began to play a soft melody that her brother had taught her and the fidderlers joined her, softly playing their instruments. Then Autumn sped up her beat and the fiddlers did the same, and people stomped their feet and clapped their hands to the rousing beat. A few men and women, big and small, began to dance out in the middle of the floor and the musicians laughed and began to play faster, in step with the merry dancers.

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Galadel Vinorel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda hung his head in shame. His face was beet red. How could he have laughed? That was even worse than Bullroarer's stomach.
Well, he'd better put his best foot forward now, or he'd look like a complete fool.

He glared over at the hobbit and pulled himself up to his full height of just under four feet. Then he growled back, sounding far more confident than he actually felt. "That he is, fellow kuduk. And a better hobbit you'll never see. Who might you be? I've certainly never seen you in the Shire. And why are you hanging around with one of the big folk?" He gestured over a bit nervously in the direction of the Man, the one that had been referred to as Volondil.

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

'Olo Gardener, my good fellow!' said the Hobbit, surprised by Branda's boldness. 'From Michel Delving.' He motioned with his hand toward the tall Man who stood near him now. 'And this is Volondil, of Ithilien. We are both Rangers.'

His eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping the three of them. 'This is not normally a place where guests of the Inn would be poking about. Did the Innkeeper tell you where you might find us? Have you some need that drove you to seek us out? And if so, why were you hiding when we came in?'

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda blushed furiously again. "Actually, it's my fault. My granny told me stories about the Rangers, fierce folk who guard the roads. I'd heard rumors I could scarcely believe that the Pony might actually have a back room where these fierce fighters came sometimes. I was so curious I came back to look."

Branda gave the two figures a look up and down. "Please don't be offended, but you don't look like what Granny told me. She said most Rangers were eight feet tall. And even he doesn't look like that." Branda pointed a finger over in Volondil's direction.

"But as far as what we're doing here, that's another story, and has to do with the great hunger in the Shire. Perhaps, Bullroarer can explain that better than I can, since he's the leader of our band."

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

And I, I fear not the fierceness of Rangers. I am hiding from a Hobbit lass. * Giles drew himself up to his full short height of 3 foot, 3 inches tall, stuck out his jaw with all the dignity he could muster, and bowed a low greeting. * Giles Harfoot of Starfield, carpenter, at your service. * He pointed at Bullroarer and Branda. * I'm with them.

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

Olo’s eyes twinkled at the old story that Rangers were eight feet tall. How many times had he heard that one! And seen the questioning looks that followed when he assured them he was indeed a Ranger. He glanced to his right where Volondil now stood up as straight as he could, trying to fufill the role for these hobbits.

Volondil caught his partner’s look and shrugged his shoulders, chuckling. He relaxed his stance and stepped back a pace or two, inviting the Hobbit group out from the shadows to have a seat. The four Hobbits took the chairs at the table, and Volondil pushed a barrel near for him to sit on.

The Man brought three clean glasses from a side cupboard, and poured the remainder of the wine for the company, his partner, and himself. As he poured the last of the bottle into his glass, he wondered again why the Hobbits were so far from their homes, especially in this weather.

‘We cannot stay at home and watch our families and friends starve slowly.’ said Bullroarer in a low voice. ‘What meager supplies of grains and vegetables and fruits we had are almost gone, and the hunting is poor. The deer and rabbits have grown few; they too suffer from this long harsh winter. Our own farm animals are grown thin and either die from hunger or we are forced to kill them to keep ourselves alive.’

Bullroarer rubbed his thick fingers on the rough grain of the old table. ‘We are desperate, and so we turn to desperate measures to see us through.’ He looked carefully at the two Rangers, who both leaned forward, listening closely to his words.

‘We are bound for Rivendell, to the House of Elrond.’ he continued. ‘We have heard they have some supplies of food they can share with us. And we have brought gifts for their willingness to do this for us.’

The eyes of both the Rangers grew wide at this statement. ‘Rivendell!’ said Olo. ‘A long way still to go, with grim dangers ahead on the road, if we have heard the reports aright.’

‘That is our path for certain,’ continued the Took. ‘Dangers we have already faced, and we will face what we need to bring food back to our people.’ He told them of their journey so far, and what had beset them.

Volondil shook his head sadly on hearing of the wild dog attack and the death of one of the companions. He excused himself for a moment, and pulled Olo to one side with him. They spoke quietly for a few moments, their faces serious, their voices quiet and grim in tone. When they returned to the table, Volondil motioned for Olo to speak.

‘We have discussed your story and fear that if you go on alone, there will be none who return.’ The three companions blanched at this statement, but still the resolve to go on was in ther eyes. Olo continued, ‘The road is filled with many dangers in these cold days. Bigger dangers than the ones you’ve faced so far. We are sworn to the safety of those within our territory.’ Olo leaned forward, his hands on the table before him. ‘We cannot allow you to continue on this doomed journey . . .’

Bullroarer stood up quickly, cutting off the words of the Ranger. His face was marked with anger as he stared into Olo’s face. ‘It is not for you to say what I and my companions can or cannot do. Tomorrow morning we will rise early and be on our way. We are resolved, and there is nothing you can do to stop us.’

Volondil stepped forward, placing his hands on both the Hobbit’s arms, urging them apart, asking them to be seated. ‘I think if you heard Olo out, there will be no need for such anger.’ he entreated.

Olo took a deep breath, nodding his head at Bullroarer. ‘Yes, I think my words did not come out the way I intended.’ He looked at the tense faces of the three companions, his own face softening. ‘We cannot allow you to continue on this doomed journey . . . alone!’

He looked to Volondil and then went on. ‘I will be coming with you.’

[Envinyatar]

Carl had not come to the Inn with the others. He had gone on before them as they left the Barrow Downs, scouting the territory that lay ahead of them. His senses were on alert, as he ranged to either side of the road, looking for any scent or sight of threat. He did not mean for the group to be surprised again by hidden dangers.

Even now he ranged east of Bree, and what he saw disturbed him. Four-toed tracks of some four legged beasts crossed and recrossed the edges of the road. Wolves, he thought. Or worse yet, since the prints were large, Wargs. The hair on his neck stood up as he considered them – some were fresh, perhaps a day or two old.

The evening was eerily silent, the only sound the whoosh of the wind driven snow as it blew past his ears. A night such this could hide anything, he thought grimly to himself. Knocking an arrow to his bow, he turned west and headed swiftly back toward the Inn.

He stood beneath the overhang of the entry way and brushed the snow from his feet as best he could. A shake of his cloak and some slaps to his breeches drove the clinging snow from them. Entering the Inn, he stood a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the brighter light within. The warmth from the fire hit him, and he looked gladly toward it, and then toward the bar with the plump Innkeeper behind it.

Licking his lips in anticipation, he strode quickly to the bar, and asked for a pint of winter ale. The Innkeeper looked at him, and chuckled at the request. ‘Best you asked for that, laddie.’ he said drawing the ale into the mug. ‘Winter ale is all we have!’ He winked at his joke, and handed the mug to Carl.

Carl turned and looked about the room for his fellow travelers. He wanted to speak with Bullroarer about what he had found, but saw him nowhere. Going up to the table where the majority of the party sat, he plunked himself down in a chair. His blue eyes crinkled as he looked from one to the other.

‘Anyone know where the Bull is?’ he asked, motioning to a passing serving girl for another ale. ‘I have some news for him. Where is he?’

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Galadel Vinorel]

After playing a few songs with the fiddlerers Autumn stood up to excuse herself, and, after recieving many bows and thanks from the other musicians, went to find the rest of her group. Sitting down, the lass ordered a winter ale and began to talk over tales that everyone had heard of Rivendell.

Feeling a slight breeze on the back of her neck, Autumn turned to see the door of the Inn open and Carl walked in. The hobbit lass had noticed before that Carl was not with the main group after they left the Barrows, and she realized now that he had been scouting alond the road. After entering the inn and talking to the innkeeper for a moment, Carl joined the main group. Suddenly, while the rest of them were thinking of their journey to come, Carl spoke up, "Anyone know where the Bull is?" he asked, motioning to a passing serving girl for another ale, "I have some news for him. Where is he?"

Autumn loked around the main hall, her blue eyes searching every knook and cranny for the missing hobbit. "I don't know," Autumn answered, "Come to think of it, I haven't seen Giles or Branda, as well, for a while now."

The company then got up and began to search from their three missing companions. When they were about ready to give up all hope, suddenly they heard a door open, and they all turned to see....

[piosenniel]

It was set, then. Volondil would stay in their territory around the Inn, patrolling as they had both done before. Olo would accompany the Hobbits to Rivendell, and return to Bree with them on their return trip.

'You should make yourself known to Bullroarer's group.' said Volondil, laying his bed roll out on the bunk to the side of the room. 'Hobbit's are friendly folk, so I've learned, but the addition of an unknown Ranger may make them uneasy.'

He sat down on the bunk, and took out his pipe and pouch of Southern Star. 'As for me, I think I will stay in the shadows here and keep my face from too much notice.'

[ January 12, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Nurumaiel]

Dinodas explained why he was there while Lotho watched him. He felt rather nervous, feeling Robin's eyes on him constantly as well as Lotho's, but he continued to talk. What if another of their company was killed? Dinodas wanted to be friends with them all, not letting anyone else leave with him just barely knowing them.

"But I don't think you're an old crank, Mr. Lotho, sir, so I thought I should talk to you... I guess.... maybe..." Dinodas' voice slowly trailed off. He hurriedly took a sip of his ale.

Lotho and Dinodas began to talk, though Dinodas did most of the talking. Robin, watching from a distance, knew that Lotho wouldn't be able to say a word no matter how hard he tried. Dinodas was just talking to cover up his nervousness and embarrassment. Once he paused and looked back at Robin, but she immediately turned away.

Let him be fooled by that old crank, she thought. I'm not getting close to him. I don't want to get hurt!

Dinodas sighed and decided he'd ignore her for acting so rude. After all, he had just offered her with his eyes to come and join them, but she wouldn't. If he had offered to Gaddy or Hal or Autumn or Daisy or anyone else he was sure they would have come.

Dinodas turned back to Lotho and continued talking with him, and looking out the window every so often. He dreaded when they'd leave this warm inn and continue on that cold, dangerous road. But he'd stick by Bullroarer until the end.

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer opened the door from the back room and led his two companions out to the Common Room. The noise of the Inn dropped several levels as faces turned to see who emerged from the shadows. Autumn and the other Hobbits who had been searching for them came running up, their questions tumbling over one another’s, helter skelter.

The Took raised his hand for silence, and guided them all back to a more private corner of the room. Once seated, he spoke quietly to them of what they had found on their misadventure and of the new addition to their group. ‘A Ranger! I’ve heard of them.’ said Carl. All eyes turned to him. ‘Met some once, too. In the Old Forest. Quiet sorts, good hunters.’ He took a long pull at his pint, wondering what had prompted him to say so much.

‘Well, where is this Ranger?’ asked Gaddy? Lotho leaned forward, a frown on is face. ‘Why would one of the Big Folk want to come with us, I wonder? What’s the profit in that for him?’

‘Here I am.’ came the low voice of the figure who now stood near their table, cape drawn tightly about him, hood up and concealing his face. The Hobbits turned as one to the unexpected sound. ‘Hah!’ cried one of them, taking in the small figure. ‘It’s a child who wants to go with us!’ she asked incredulously. ‘Not a child,’ said Daisy. ‘Look at his feet.’

Olo threw back his hood, approaching closer to the companions. ‘Yes, I’m a Hobbit, not a Man-child.’ He turned to Lotho, answering his question. ‘No profit for me, sir, in going with you. Save for the satisfaction that you will be seen as safely as I may to Rivendell.’

[Auriel Haevasawen]

Roth padded silently toward the smell of live chickens. Even though she made no audible sound the hens became restless. They are not foolish birds, they could sense evil in the night.

Ragnarok circled round the shed in the opposite direction. He would work with Roth willingly enough if their was a chance of a warm-blooded feast.

The poultry began to clammer. The nostrils of the wolvern creatures flared at gaps in the closed shutters or below the door. The building itself was sturdy wattle and daub, like many of its kind. They could not gain entry at present. All was shut up tight. Ragnarok growled softly to himself. He listened to the disturbance the noise of his growl had made within the shed. If it had been light something akin to a smile would have been visible along his wet lips.

Nimue had brought the two pups close but still seemed unwilling to be involved. It was best she kept them back, they could make an inopportune noise and disturb the Warg's greatest fear. Those who walked upon two legs, the creatures that tamed others. The Wargs were not for being tamed. Everything that had blood within its veins, whether hot and pumping or cold and still was food to the Warg.

Ragnarok took a look at the glow from the farmhouse window. They were far enough away to take a little, hunger-motivated risk. A quick snap of a bark told Nimue and Roth to keep watch in that direction. He lept lightly onto some bales of staw that stood idly by the side of the shed, covered in snow that rendered them useless for dry bedding. From there he made a second leap onto the roof. In his youth when caution was not something he cared for he had done this several times until an arrow caught him in the flank for his pains. He still carried a fragment of the tip in his flesh to remind him to be wary.

Mounting the snow coated thatch was tricky and he found he slid several times before gaining a purchase on the ridge of the shed. Below him the fowl grew hysterical. He looked again toward the house. No movement: the winter wind was in his favour. He dug away the roof snow like a common dog until he exposed the reeds. He glanced again, he hoped the she-wolves kept watch as he had instructed. Steadily he began to bite, pull and dig away at the thatch. The hens below seemed to shriek in panic. He opened up a gap and could see hectic movement below him. He snarled with pleasure. Ragnarok was almost upon them.

[Galadel Vinorel]

Autumn could not believe it. A Ranger who was a hobbit!! 'I've never heard of this happening befoe,' thought the lass to herself.

Then Autumn suddenly remember her manners and stood up and bowed low to Olo. "How do you do, sir? My name is Autumn Gamwich, and I would like to welcome you, as I am sure the rest of my companions will do as well, " she said glaring over at a few of the hobbits, who sat staring at Olo dumbfoundedly, "to our group. We are all very happy that you will be joining us. Please do excuse my friends here, though, for we have never met a hobbit who is a Ranger before now." Autumn glared at some of the staring hobbits once again and elbowed one of them. Then, after bowing low to the Ranger once more, the hobbit lass returned to her seat.

[dragoneyes]

Gaddy ignored Autumn's elbow, and continued to stare, even when Olo was engaged in conversation by someone else. It took a few more shoves from Hal before he came to his senses and sat down again. His train of thought then moved onto Daisy, a subject which had been on his mind increasingly since the party at Whitfurrows.
"There's another addition to the company then." said Hal, interrupting Gaddy's thoughts,
"What are you talking about?" He said before he'd really thought about what he was saying,
"Where is your mind tonight Gaddy? What do you think I'm talking about?"
"Oh, you mean that ranger don't you."
"Yes, I mean Olo. I was going to suggest talking to him but your mind seems to be moving especially slowly at the moment."

Gaddy didn't say anything, he was thinking about how useful this ranger could've been earlier on in their journey. He shook his head slightly and returned to the Inn,
"Sorry Hal." he said smiling broadly "Why don't we go and talk to him now?"
"Well he's talking now, don't want to interrupt them."

[ January 12, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Envinyatar]

Carl overheard Hal and Gaddy talking about the Ranger. ‘Come on, you two,’ he said, sitting down next to Gaddy, ‘let’s go stand him a pint and find out about him. He looks like a regular sort of guy, despite the Elvish cape and the sword at his side.’ Carl nudged Gaddy in the ribs. ‘Besides, you look like someone who needs their mind taken off someone else.’

He saw Gaddy glance at Hal, then look calf-eyed toward Daisy, sitting at the other end of the long table. ‘Thank the stars, I’ve got my trapping, and hunting, and tramping about the woods to fill my time.’ He thought to himself, as Gaddy slumped in his chair, distracted. ‘This man and woman thing is too slippery for me to get my mind around.’

Olo had just finished talking with a few of the other companions, when Carl approached him, saying, ‘Thirsty work, all that talking.’ He handed the Ranger a tankard of ale, and was rewarded with a nod of the head and a hearty, ‘Thanks!’

[ January 13, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[piosenniel]

Olo proved as true to his Hobbit nature as they could hope. A few drinks with the companions and a pouch of tobacco passed round to fill their pipes, and he had been accepted into the group as if he had been with them all along. Bullroarer beamed. This was working out better than he had expected when first he had found himself wedged behind that stack of crates hoping not to be discovered.

The hour was growing late, and the sleepy eye of the Innkeeper was now upon them. Most of the guests had already gone to bed, and now the Innkeeper asked Bullroarer for the third time if there was anything else they would be wanting.

‘No, my good man, we’re fine.’ He said. ‘Give us just a few more minutes to discuss our plans for tomorrow and then we’ll be off to bed.’ He waved him off saying, ‘I’ll bank the fire for you when we go upstairs. Go ahead and bar the door now if you wish, we’re all inside.’ Thanking him, the Innkeeper went wearily to his rest.

Bullroarer turned to the companions once he had gone. ‘All right, you Hobbits. Let’s get off to bed soon. We’ll start tomorrow, at first light if we can.’ There was a general groan at this statement, and much yawning. ‘I want us on the road to the Forsaken Inn, about a day’s journey from here. It’s the last nice place we’ll have to stay ‘til we get to Rivendell.’

In ones and twos the companions left the Common Room and found their way to bed. Olo had come up to stand near Bullroarer and Branda while the others left. ‘What sorts of weapons does the group bear?’ he asked. Bullroarer recounted what arms they had, realizing as he ticked them off in review how meager a defense they were.

Olo’s face grew serious as he listened to the short list. ‘We will need to be very careful from here to the Last Bridge, Bullroarer. Very careful. There have been many reports of Wargs.’

[Envinyatar]

Carl had stayed by the fire as the others left, hoping to speak with the Bull before he went to bed. He nodded as he heard Olo say they must be very careful. That there were reports of Wargs in the area.

‘It’s more than just reports,’ he told them, motioning them near. ‘I wanted to tell you this earlier, but it got lost in the excitement of finding you and Giles and Branda, and in the welcoming of our new travelling companion.’ Carl tapped the burnt pipeweed from his pipebowl against the side of the fireplace, knocking it into the ashes of the firepit.

‘The Wargs are near. I saw their prints cross and recross the road on the east side of the village. They are as hungry as we are from this dreadful winter, and their desperation for food drives them closer to us. It is as the Ranger said, we must be very wary.’

[Calenedheliel]

Being one of the last of the group to head off to sleep, Daisy overheard Olo and her uncle talking about the dangers they faced heading out tomorrow. Then she heard Carl add that there were Wargs close by. Daisy had never seen a Warg but she heard some really horrible tales about them when she was growing up. She never thought she would ever see one because she lived in the Shire, but now she was on the road and would probably see one as it tried to attack them. She decided that she would be ready for them when they came.

Daisy hurried upstairs to repack her belongings so that her weapons would easier to get to it they were attacked. She would put her knives by her waist and carry her shield. The shield had a nice sharp edge and she could use as a weapon instead of a shield if need be. Once everything was packed Daisy sat down and started thinking about her family back at home waiting for her to return.

She missed everyone and couldn’t wait to get back to them. She hoped that she made back to them. When she had decided to go on this mission her family had tried to talk her out of going, They said that it would be to dangerous, but she didn’t believe them. Boy, she believed them now.

She wanted to introduce them to all the companions but most of all Gaddy. She really liked him and hoped he really liked her. She couldn’t tell because he always seemed so shy when she was around. He did let her comfort him after the wild dog attack and they did do a lot of talking then, but somehow that was different than wanting to get to know someone that you thought was special.

“oh well, I need to be getting my sleep because we have a long day and a long way ahead of us tomorrow.”
Daisy thought. With that she climbed into bed and fell fast a sleep.

[Child of the 7th Age]

After Olo had finished his conversation with Bullroarer, he beckoned to Branda to join him before he retired.

"Come with me. I haven't got much, but there are a few things that might help."

Olo disappeared back into the storage cupboard behind the bar, and with Volondil's aid, began scavenging through a pile of older weapons and tools. Most of them were designed for Men, and not something that a hobbit would feel comfortable carrying. Branda stood at the doorway, reluctant to barge into their private room without an explicit invitation.

"Come on," Olo gestured with his hand for Branda to come inside. He was holding out two sturdy leather shields that were sized for a hobbit. Both were old and battle worn but looked as if they could still stand up to considerable abuse. "For close in fighting, you and Tomba have only the short blades, plus the harpoon you carry. You need more defense than that. Take the shields for yourself. And these few other things as well. Give them to Bullroarer to whoever needs them the worst." Branda could see some arrows as well as a heavy crowbar, though still hobbit sized, whose blunt end had been honed to a fierce point.

"Thank you," the hobbit responded as he took the shields and other items. "But, Olo, aren't you coming to the room with the other hobbits. I know there'll be a bed waiting for you."

Olo laughed, "I'll definitely take up your offer tomorrow night at the Foresaken Inn. But as I'll be separated from my comrade Volondil for some time, I prefer to stay here this evening. But please, give a knock at the first hint of the dawn and be sure that I am up. He and I have had a long, weary week and little time to rest."

Branda nodded his head, struck by the idea that a hobbit would prefer the companionship of one of the big folk, even if only for a single night. He dropped the arrows and crowbar off with Bullroarer, and crawled off to his own bed. The boy was already deep in dreams. Branda slid his hand through Tomba's curls with some afection and sighed when he remembered their grim discussion about the wargs. He thought of his own wife and little girl waiting behind in the Shire, and quickly drifted into sleep.

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl awoke with a jolt from her lying position at the table. She looked up wearily and saw that almost the whole room had cleaned out.

"I must ‘ave fell asleep!" She jumped up, and moved to a foggy window. There where clouds filling the dark night sky. She groggily strolled to the stairs, and stopped for a minute to blink and wipe her sleepy eyes.

Holding on to the wall like she was drunk, she went to her room and sat on her bed. She thought about her dying brother at home, and she wondered if he was still alive. She picked up her knife and positioned it closer to her grasp. Her blankets, tarp, and camping supplies were tied in a tight bundle, where they could be used as a weapon if she needed.

She laid down her head and looked at the ceiling. She needed sleep and she knew it. After the next Inn, another may not come. She was afraid for herself and her companions. She only knew of Wargs from the stories her Mum and Dad had told her when she was little. She thought of them as fantasy creatures that didn’t exist. Now she knew the truth.

With a deep sigh, she rolled over. Her eyes closed on their own, and she drifted into a sleep.

[Calenedheliel]

Daisy woke up just before first light and looked out the window. It was snowing heavily again. She had hoped that when they left this morning it would be at the very least a gray sunless day instead of the snow. Daisy got dressed and went downstairs to get some breakfast. When she entered the common room she found her uncle was already up and ready for the trip today.

“Good morning, uncle, this is sure to be an interesting day with all of this snow and wind again.” Daisy said. “I was hoping for just another gray sunless day so that our vision would good for a fair distance, but that is not the case.” She continued.

Bullroarer replied, “I know lass, we will just have to make the best of it because we need to get going it we are to get back to the Shire and have anyone to feed.”

Daisy nodded her head and went and sat down to a nice hearty breakfast, which made her think of her mum and dad again. She hoped that they were still doing well. She couldn’t wait to see them again and to never step foot out of the Shire again.

Daisy looked around the common room many of the companions were still sleeping. She wished that someone would come down to join her because she really didn’t really have anything else to say to Bullroarer, besides he was busy with Olo planning a strategy for their trip today.

Daisy heard some noise from the stairs and turned around. Some of the hobbits were coming down to join her for breakfast. Gaddy and Hal were part of the group coming down. Seeing Gaddy made her heart fill up with joy. She stared at him as he approached the table. When he noticed her looking at him, he smiled at her and then blushed from head to toe. She could feel herself blushing also!

Everybody joined her at the table and soon the common room was full of hungry, noisy, and excited hobbits. They were ready for the long road today, but also a little wary of what lay ahead for them.

[Nurumaiel]

Robin awoke and sat up, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She didn't want to wake up. Couldn't she just sleep until all the troubles had passed? Climbing out of bed, she got dressed and went into the other room to have breakfast.

She saw many of the hobbits were already awake, but Dinodas wasn't there. "Where's Dinodas?" she asked in a sleepy voice.

Nobody seemed to know, so Robin decided he was just sleeping in. She sat down to have some breakfast. She was hungry enough to eat anything... well... As she looked outside and saw the trees covered in snow, she thought differently. "I'm hungry enough to eat almost anything," she said quietly, not wishing to be overheard. "I wouldn't eat a tree."

But she was overheard, for one of the hobbit lads burst out laughing. She grinned back and began to dig into her food.

Robin was beginning to feel seriously worried when breakfast ended and Dinodas still had not shown up. She stood up and began pacing back and forth, and then happened to glance out the window. With a cry that startled the others, she ran to the door of the inn and flung it open. Dinodas was trudging through the snow towards the inn, holding a stack of branches in his arms.

"Dinodas Green, what were you doing out there?" demanded Robin angrily. "It's dangerous! What if you had been killed?"

"I'd have been killed sooner or later if I didn't go out," said Dinodas tiredly, setting down his branches and sitting down. "I'm nearly out of arrows, and I'm figuring we might be attacked by something soon, so I went and borrowed an axe from the innkeeper and cut myself some good branches. After I get some breakfast into myself I'm going to get out my knife and turn these branches into fine arrows."

"Why didn't you tell someone you were going?" Robin asked.

"I did," Dinodas protested. "No one was awake except Bullroarer and I told him where I was going. He didn't like it at first, but finally permitted me to go, after I told him why I was going where I was going."

"'Why I was going where I was going,'" said Robin. "You need to start making more sense, Dinodas. Just make sure you tell Bullroarer to tell me next time."

"Do you worry about me, Robin?" asked Dinodas with an impish grin.

"I worry about everyone in this company," replied Robin.

"Just like a girl."

"Be quiet and eat," said Robin, sitting down. "You could have taken me along."

"Too late," said Dinodas, and he said no more until his head finished his breakfast.

[piosenniel]

Child's post

Branda awoke with a jolt. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the Inn as big and little folk began the serious business of surviving in a time of hardship. Lying on his back and staring out at the whirling gusts of snow that were still beating againt the frosted window pane, he suddenly had the dreadful feeling that he'd seriously overslept.

Tomba had already gone from his bed, as had all the other hobbits. Every space was empty but his own, with the gear packed away and hauled down to the common room. For one minute, he wondered if his strange experiences from the night before might only have been a dream. Still, the new leather shield standing near his feet was reassuringly solid.

He hurriedly threw on breeches and shirt, plus several vests and a sweater, trailing his heavy cloak behind him. Then he ran downstairs, with packs and weapons in tow, to see if there was any breakfast left. Branda spied one spot left at the end table where Lotho and Carl were seated next to Dafodyl, and grabbed for the last few spoonfuls of oatmeal that were still left standing at the bottom of the pot. There were a number of catcalls and hoots from his companions about the problem of lazy hobbits. He hunched down lower on the bench, and turned a livid shade of red. Served him right for oversleeping!

Best get moving quickly, he thought. For already Bullroarer was calling out his name, to get the hobbits lined up with their belongings, and to make sure that Olo knew what to do nd where to go.

********************************************

Piosenniel's post

The early morning weather had been dreadful. Snow thick as lamb’s wool filled the air, and beat against the windows. By midmorning, when the Hobbits had gotten themselves all ready for travel, the weather had lightened, lifting their spirits considerably. The pale sun shone warmly on the frozen landscape, penetrating the snow and ice as it could. Bullroarer walked briskly to the stables to see to the ponies. The icicles were drip, drip, dripping from the corners of the roof, and he welcomed the small sign as a lucky one, even as a chilled drop of water hit the back of his neck and crept down his shirt.

He harnessed the pony to his wagon and pulled it out into the courtyard, bringing it to a halt in front of the Inn’s door. He pulled gently on the reins. ‘Whoa up!’ Branda was standing there, cajoling the companions into getting their belongings loaded onto the wagon. The Took could tell from most of their faces that an extra hour or two or three of sleep would have been welcome.

‘Got to take care of business while we have some sun to warm our faces!’ He jumped from the wagon and helped the younger ones heave their packs up to the small pile already there. He had already placed the box of gifts for Rivendell securely under the seat and now he lit a small, driving lantern and hung it on the hook by his seat.

‘What’s that for?’ asked Daisy, spying the feeble light of the hooded lantern. ‘It’s not dark yet, why did you light it.’

‘An admirable question Daisy!’ He waved his arms for all the Hobbits to gather round him. ‘I want you all to be sure you’ve got your weapons and armor handy for the rest of the trip. There have been reports of Wargs – both from Olo and from Carl, who has seen recent tracks nearby.

Bullroarer threw back the canvas tarp that had covered the long pile of brands from the Shire. ‘This is what the lantern is for – to light these pitchy torches should we have need of them. Should that occur – grab a brand, light it and stand ringed in a circle. We can put our bowmen inside the circle to defend us.’ He looked round at the now pale faces of the Hobbits. ‘I hope it does not come to that.’

Soon they were ready and Bullroarer called for them to head down the road. Bright sun cast shadows on the wary features of their faces.

[ January 14, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ January 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Envinyatar]

Carl had spoken briefly with Bullroarer earlier that morning. He had headed out, while most of the Hobbits lay dreaming under their blankets, to scout the road ahead.

The snow obscured the road and its surrounds for the most part. Filling in what few tracks there might have been, leaving only a smooth blanket of white before him. Carl ranged far afield on both sides of the road, looking for any signs of the Wargs.

Five miles out, and still clear. The weather had changed now, the sun making a brave appearance above the trees. New snow was melting from the surface of the road, running in rivulets to the edges of it, or standing in small frigid puddles in the wagon ruts.

His sharp eyes caught something a few feet away. Large, canine tracks, two different pair of them, had crossed the road heading northeast. They were lost where the two had entered the underbrush along the roadside.

He crouched down to examine them. They had been made when the dirt was wet, and would take the deep imprint of paw. Now they were frozen. It would be impossible to tell how long ago they had been made with what little information he had.

Carl stood, staring into the silent woods beyond the edges of the road, his ears alert for any signs. Nothing but the call of a small bird broke the quiet. He turned and ran back westward to where the others would soon be coming.

Bullroarer and the Ranger should know what he had found. He only hoped that the tracks were indeed old ones - that there was nothing to fear. Carl put those thoughts aside and picked up his speed with misgiving.

[Calenedheliel]

Daisy walked with the other hobbits behind her uncle’s wagon. The sun felt good, though the air was still icy cold. She looked around at the area they were walking in. Everything stood still and quiet except when the wind blew. The fields were still covered in snow that glistened in the sunlight. The trees and the road they were on provided the only color to be seen.

There didn’t appear to be any other life forms out there, but Daisy knew better. The hair on the back of her neck was sticking up. She couldn’t help feeling that they were being watched, by what or whom she didn’t know and that scared her. She walked over to Gaddy and Hal to stay beside them so that she would feel a little safer. She wondered if anyone else felt the way she did, but was afraid to voice what she was feeling, hoping that it wasn’t real.

The road they were on was a very bumpy road with lots of ruts in it. The sun melted some of the snow and now they were walking in muddy puddles. Some of the puddles were ankle deep and had created some very grumpy, wet hobbits, who couldn’t wait to get to the Forsaken Inn and get into dry clothing once again.

[piosenniel]

The companions were making good time down the road. The sun had lifted their spirits and made their steps lighter. It was not long before Carl found them and held a huddled conversation with Bullroarer and Olo.

Olo and Carl went quickly down the road to look at the tracks, while Bullroarer called a stop for second breakfast. It was a poor diversion, since all that was readily available were some dried fruits, but it gave Bullroarer time to talk to the Hobbits one more time about keeping together and staying alert. And it also gave the Ranger and Carl time to study the tracks and get back to the group with a warning if needed.

The Hobbits all piled onto the bed of the wagon and sat chatting, enjoying the brief rest and the warm light on their faces.

A short while later, Carl and Olo returned, telling Bullroarer to his great relief, that the tracks looked old and that they should be able to pass safely to the Forsaken Inn.

Just a few more hours and they would be there. The Took glanced up at the invisible stars and sent out a brief plea for an uneventful journey this day.

[ January 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Envinyatar]

Carl still felt uneasy about the number of Warg tracks he had seen in the past two days, especially so near the road and villages used so often by travelers. The Wargs were being driven into dangerous contact by the scarcity of food.

He ranged out again ahead of the group keeping his eyes and ears open. His blade was at hand, and he kept an arrow knocked to his bow.

[ January 16, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Ringwraith Number Two]

As Ragnarok scrambled at the fence, Roth suddenly sat up. The wind had changed. A new smell was in the air... the smell of man. It took all of her willpower not to howl in excitement and alarm and instead, she turned to Ragnarok and butted him hard in the side. He turned, snarling, but stopped as soon as he himself caught the smell. Nimue crawled forward and bit through the thatch, and suddenly widened the gap with a particularly violent snarl as the chickens squawked. She immediately plunged forward and mercilessly thrust out a helpless chicken. Burying her teeth into its jaws, she put the chicken down in front of the cubs, who moved forward slowly, and then started nibbling the meat in front of them.

Roth was uneasy.The smell of man was stronger than ever.

[piosenniel]

It was late afternoon, and the weather had held up admirably for the remainder of their trek. Carl had not come hastening back with any warnings of danger ahead, and Bullroarer had been much relieved. The old saw, ‘No news is good news.’ kept running through his head.

An hour later and he turned south of the road onto a small dirt path, hardly big enough for the wagon to fit on. It was rutted even more than the main road, and looked to be infrequently used as well as in need of repair.

When they reached the court yard of the Forsaken Inn, it certainly did fit its name. The steps to the landing were bowed and one was broken. A window had been boarded over, and the ramshackle Inn was in desperate need of new paint. Bullroarer was relieved to see a small thin stream of smoke issuing from the chimney. ‘At least it’s not completely abandoned.’ He sighed to himself.

He had the companions unload the wagon and take the supplies into the Inn. The ponies he took to the dilapidated stable and found them each a stall where the roof above did not drip on them. Throwing a blanket over their backs, he fed and watered them and found some none too musty hay for the floor of their stalls.

The other companions had gone in by the time he got back to the Inn’s door. He stamped the mud from his feet off on the landing before he entered the scratched Inn door, taking care not to stamp too hard, lest his foot go through the flooring. Curious about the long, deep scratches on the thick oak door, he ran his hand lightly over them, gauging the depth of them.

His hand turned the handle, and he entered into the interior gloom of the Common Room. His eyes adjusted to the light, and he gasped quietly.

‘Oh, my!’ he muttered.

[ January 16, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Envinyatar]

Carl was at the fireplace when Bullroarer entered. He and Autumn had found the woodpile and brought in two armloads. They had sent Hal and Gaddy out for more, and Carl had asked Giles to split some of the wood into kindling with the rusted splitting maul they’d found out by the wood.

The Inn was a complete wreck. The Innkeeper a pale wraith of a fellow who kept mostly to his room, and when he did talk, his thoughts were jumbled and his eyes would grow round and frightened whenever there was a sound at the door.

The one clear thought they did get form him was that there were Wargs about and they had been here recently. When Carl had asked about the scratches on the door and the heavily boarded window, he began mumbling incoherently and retreated to his room, barring and locking the door.

Six of the Hobbits went upstairs and brought down mattresses to the Common Room. Daisy and Robin had swept the floor and moved the tables against the walls to make a space for them near the fire. Branda and Tomba went searching for food to cook.

Lotho poked around until he found the oil and candle supply for the lanterns, He filled them and lit them and set them about the room to cast back the gloom. Olo took one of the lanterns and gave another to Dinodas. ‘Let’s get the ponies from the stable and put them in here with us. I don’t want them out there alone.’ They brought them in and penned them in one corner of the Inn by stacking tables up for fencing.

Once the food supplies were found and a few dusty bottles of wine and two jugs of cider, Bullroarer took the cooking in hand and threw together a passable stew of dried meats and dried vegetables, with a few potatoes thrown in from the cellar. There was plenty to eat, and it warmed their bellies and took their minds from the sorry place they found themselves in.

Dafodyl had knocked on the Innkeepers door to offer him a bowl of stew, but he would not answer her.

When it began to get fully dark, Carl barred the door with a stout piece of oak that was leaned on the wall next to it . . .

[ January 17, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Carl took first watch that night. Even thought the door was barred, still the hobbits felt uneasy. They pulled their mattresses close to the bright flames of the fire, as if to keep the shadow from them. Carl sat in a chair by the fireplace, his feet propped on the raised stone hearth. He fed the fire when it burned low and listened to the moaning sound of the wind as it blew past the chimney and swept round the corners of the Inn.

Olo took the second watch, and then the third as he had not the heart to wake the sleeping Bullroarer. The night passed uneventfully without the slightest sound of someone or something trying to break in.

‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ whispered the Took to the drowsing Olo, just as the sun shed its first light in through a crack in the window’s boards. ‘Lay down for a short rest, and I’ll get breakfast going.’

He found a passably clean pot and set the water to boiling near the built up fire. There was no oatmeal to be found in the Inn pantry, so Bullroarer took some from the Hobbits’ food supply and cooked it up. He had found a large pot of honey, and set it out for a sweetener. Another pot of water was warmed up for tea water.

The companions started to wake up as soon as the smells of breakfast and sweet spice tea tickled their noses. Carl was up and had taken the ponies out to the stable to feed and water them. He saw no signs of Warg or wolf tracks and was relieved.

Once breakfast was done, and everything cleared away, they loaded the wagon back up and made ready to leave. Bullroarer called a short meeting before the started down the road, reminding them that this was the last Inn until Rivendell. From now on out they would have to rough it. He also reminded them that they were going into an area of increasing danger, and that they were to stick together as they walked along the road and must not straggle off. ‘Keep your weapons at hand, and remember where the torches are.’

He lit the lantern that hung to the side of the wagon and put his club beside him. From beneath the seat, he took his quiver with the black, poisoned arrows mixed in with some of his own, and took out his bow and strung it.

Carl and Olo did not range ahead of the group, they stayed close, instead. Carl walked before the lead pony his eyes sweeping the road ahead and the forest to the sides of it. Olo brought up the rear, his bow in hand.

They headed north up the rutted roadway to the main road and then turned east again. There were grey clouds obscuring the sun, and the wind was brisk in their faces. No sign of snow yet as they headed toward Weathertop and past the Midgewater marshes . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

After several hours of steady marching, Bullroarer finally called a halt so the hobbits could rest by the side of the road. "We'll still need to post guards here. Autumn and Olo, could you take the first watch? But before you go, I've got something to share with everyone."

"Olo and I have been discussing how we can improve our odds against a warg attack. The main thing is to stick together, not to have anyone get separated. So, to make sure we do that, and to coordinate our attack, we're going to organize into small bands. I want you to remain in these groups on the road and even tonight after we reach our campsite."

"Every group will have one or two bowmen, with the rest carrying torches or other weapons. Now, everyone listen up, and pay attention to how you're assigned."

"Carl, can you lead Lotho and Daffodyl? Robin, you're in charge of Dinodas and Celendine. Autumn, you take Daisy, Gaddy, and Hal. I'll be working with Olo."

Bullroarer signalled to Autumn and Olo that they should climb up one of the nearby hillsides and have a thorough look around the countryside. "And let me know if you see anything suspicious," he added.

Branda shifted nervously from foot to foot, wondering why his name had been conspicuously left off the list. Giles looked puzzled, and Tomba darted forward, demanding, "What about me? You didn't say anything."

Bullroarer put his hand up to his forehead. He had so many things on his mind right now. "Sorry, Olo and I did discuss that," His eyes skirted over the three remaining hobbits, until they finally came to rest on Tomba.

"Tomba, if I had my way, you'd never be fighting wargs. You're the smallest and youngest here. But I don't have the luxury of pulling you out completely. I want the three of you to stick together at the rear. Try to scare off anything that gets through, but don't be heroes or advance to the front."

"That's it?" questioned Branda, with obvious irritation in his voice.

"No, that's not it. The real reason I want you back there is to keep an eye if anyone goes down. If they're hurt, I'm counting on you and Tomba to drag them out of there, and bring them back to the wagon to be tended. If we had done that before, ...." His voice trailed off.

Bullroarer sighed and continued, "Branda, you're the best healer we have. I need that even more than your fighting skills."

Giles politely interrupted, "Then what should I do? If they end up helping the wounded, I mean?"

"Giles, you can go forward and join another group, or stay back and try and guard them from attack. My worst nightmare is to have a warg charging while Branda is trying to tend someone who's injured."

Tomba kicked a stone in the dirt and growled, "I wish I was older."

"Well, you're not yet, lad, so just hang on. And Branda, what do you say?"

Branda looked back at Bullroarer, wondering if he was being punished for acting so foolishly when they'd discovered the Ranger hide-out. "I don't like it," he muttered under his breath.

"Well, like it or not, there it is. I'm responsible for you, and I'll use my resources the best I can so we'll all survive. Now, get yourself a bite to eat, since I'd like you and Olo to take the second watch on that hill and relieve the others."

Branda scowled again, but said nothing as he wrenched a lump of hard bread out of his pack and began gnawing at it.

[ January 17, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

It was a short meal, and a cheerless one. Hard to swallow dry bread with a throat made dry from anxiousness.

Bullroarer watched as the Hobbits put up their meager snack and took the last drink of water from their skins. He climbed on the wagon, and taking the reins in hand, clucked to the pony to urge it on.

Down the road, ever eastward, they trudged on . . .