Breelanders All! RPG

[piosenniel]

Berilac and the children at the Hedge

‘Boys always stick together, don’t they?’ Marigold Woodruff had stepped back from the ever smaller hole they had been working on for the past hour. It was her and Ella’s turn to hand the branches and pieces of scrap lumber to the boys, Mondy and Rollo. Early on, the boys had decided that they would be one team and the girls would be another. They would take turns – one team going into the hole to stuff it up with the materials; the other team feeding the materials to them.

Truth be told, Marigold enjoyed working with Ella. Marigold’s mother kept her close to home usually, and she hadn’t a chance to meet the Hobbits from the other side of the village. School and now this little project with the Ranger had widened her circle of acquaintances and hopefully friends.

Ella dragged the last of the branches to where the boys were standing just outside the now filled in hole. All four of the children laced it through the edges of the Hedge together.

‘We’re done!’ cried Mondy to Rollo, slapping the boy on the back. Rollo yelped in surprise and laughed out loud. ‘You pack a pretty good wallop for a . . .’

Berilac’s attention was drawn to the little group. Things had been going so well and he hoped that some ill thought words were not going to mar the day. He watched as Mondy stood in front of the boy, hands on hips, daring him to just say the word. Ella and Marigold also held their breath.

Rollo, unaware of the attention focused on him, laughed and gave Mondy a light push on the shoulder. ‘I say you’ve got a pretty good arm there for an eight year old!’

The boys’ attention was drawn to a small tree frog that clung to a small twig on the hedge. Rollo’s face lit up as one of his old jokes came to mind. ‘Hey, have you heard this one?’ he said to the little group, pointing out the frog. ‘Why did the frog cross the road?’

Ella and Marigold rolled their eyes at the old riddle. Mondy had never heard it before and scrunched his face up thinking about the answer. ‘Don’t tell me,’ he said. ‘I think I’ve almost got it . . .’ He tried out a few answers and was rewarded with shakes of the head from Rollo and giggles from the girls. When at last he gave up and Rollo gave the answer, his face clouded over for a moment then lightened with understanding. Slapping rollo on the back once more, he cried ‘Good one!’ Then, looking up hopefully at the older lad, asked, ‘Got any more?’

Berilac grinned at the crisis averted. Now if only the parents could get along so well!

[Arestevana]

Kirima halted her nervous pacing of the camp's perimeter as Kandel joined her. "Father is going to bring every ranger known to man here," he said, smirking. This echoed Kirima's earlier thoughts, but she felt that it would be rude to say so.

Kandel turned to her and spoke again. "I didn't get your opinion on the worth of these men. D'you think they will put up a good fight?" Kirima gave a small, rueful smile and sighed. "I don't know." She admitted. "Rudgar will vouch for them, if you ask him. But I don't feel I can trust any of them much. Though probably further than I could throw them." She added, laughing.

The smile did not last long. She shook her head, sighing, and continued. "Will they put up a good fight? When is a fight good? They may fight well, if that is what you mean, for they seem to have much skill and experience. But blood will be spilled on any account, whether they fight well or no." And she thought, 'We have reversed roles, all of us. We are the ones who attack, pillage, murder. And the Breelanders will take our place. When we take - if we take - the town, where will they go?'

Shaking herself out of the reflection, Kirima glanced up at Kandel. "I think these new recruits can fight. I don't trust them, I don't like them, but I think they will help us win the town."

[Child of the 7th Age]

Guthwine

Guthwine paced back to the firepit and squatted down beside the stew pot, his face an impassive mask, as he portioned out bowls for the others and rose to pass them around the circle. Kirima and Kandel had slipped off to the side of camp to speak quietly by themselves. When Guthwine walked up and handed them the meal, the two curtly accepted the offering and, lowering their voices to a whisper, pulled off even further.

Guthwine could not make out the exact words the woman spoke but it was not hard to guess what was probably being said. He too was not pleased with the newcomers. They looked to be a scruffy lot. He wouldn't want to turn his back on them in a dark alleyway or give them free rein in the raids on the farms. with the latter thought in mind, he vowed to ride with the band tomorrow when they went out to raid the pigman's cot to make sure no one got too far out of hand.

But, given their desperate situation, what real choice did they have? At least these men could fight. Folk in Bree were unlikely to welcome them with open arms, even if they crept up to the city to make a plea on bended knee. He'd seen too many of his friends and kinfolk die in the Misty Mountains, and now there were hungry families in the Weather Hills who would not make it through unless they found a place to live. They'd just have to use whatever means was available to them, and worry about the right or wrong of it after they'd manged to bend the city to their will.

For the rest of the afternoon, Lotar stuck by himself, thinking and planning. The new recruits found places to set up their bedrolls on the far side of the clearing, a good distance from the others. Once or twice, Rudgar ambled over to check that the newcomers were settling in. But, other than that, there was little conversation between the two sides of camp. As evening came on, a full moon rose high into the heavens and a lonely wolf howled on a distant hillside. The band would not be going out until close to midnight, the time when the Breelanders should be deep in sleep and the moon would reach its zenith in the sky. A number of the men settled down on the forest floor to catch a few hours of sleep, some dreaming of treasure gained at the point of a sword, while others pined for absent kin and remembered homes turned inside out.

[ November 20, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Orofaniel]

Rosie

The tea was ready, and the home baked cookies as well. She found her basket and placed everything in it, with nice clothing on the top. It had been a busy day indeed. First she had followed Fippi and the other children to school, together with Poppy. Then she had come home and made Hedgar a nice cup of tea before he went to work at the Hedge. Then afterwards she had started to make cookies that she would bring to the workers now.

She took the basket and went.

~*~

When she reached the hedge she saw all those children and men working together. It was a very nice sight, Rosie thought. Rosie was also very proud that her husband had volunteered for this. And there was her son, Fippi, dragging a branch in the other direction.

"Rosie!" Hedgar said when he saw her coming. "Hello dear," she said and smiled. Berilac came over and welcomed her to the hedge. Rosie gave a short laugh and handed the Hobbit Ranger a cookie. "I've brought hot tea, and home baked cookies for everyone," Rosie announced. She had just finished and there were already children running towards her. Rosie laughed again, one of those merry laughers of hers. "Here you go..." Rosie said and handed the children cookies.

Then afterwards she served them tea. "Can I have some tea as well?" A boy asked Rosie. Rosie had unfortunately overlooked the boy before and felt her heart leap as she heard his voice. "Of course you can, dear." She said and poured the boy some tea. "What's your name?" She asked him when she handed him the small cup.

"My name is Edmund," he said and sipped the tea. "Oh, so you're Edmund!" Rosie said and smiled. The boy nodded. "You want a cookie too?" Rosie said as the boy took another sip. "Yes, please.” The boy said as his eyes lightened up. He smiled and took a big bite of the cookie.

Suddenly Rosie saw something. "What's that Edmund?" Rosie asked curiously. "That's my squirrel..."Edmund replied. "He is injured, so I'm watching over him until he fells better." the boy added. "Oh, that's very nice of you," Rosie said and smiled.

Rosie didn't notice that Fippi came from behind and gave her a big hug. "Mum," He said. "Yes, darling, what is it?" Rosie said ad turned. "Look what we've done..." Fippi said, and pointed at one of the holes. "Oh...That's a really great job you've done. All of you. "Rosie said, looking in the direction Fippi was pointing.

"Have some tea and cookies," Rosie said and found her basket. When she had given Fippi a cup and a cookie, she offered the others a second round.

[ November 20, 2003: Message edited by: Orofaniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Child's narrative post

The men who'd laid down to catch a few moments of rest groggily pulled themselves awake as the deepest hour of night drew near. They lay shivering in their bedrolls, seemingly hesitent to arise, as the autumn wind buffetted the few leaves that still clung limply to the trees. There was a broad undercurrent of tension and confusion pulsing through the camp; men sat up and covered their faces in shame, struggling to overcome the grim images of death and doom that Lorien had deposited in their hearts during the brief rest they had taken.

Still, Lotar kept to himself and did not appear to tell the band that it was time to depart. Men waited impatinetly, pacing about in circles or irritably quarrelling over trifles, eager for the moment to arrive when they could at last venture out under cover of darkness and force the complacent Breelanders to coil back in fear.

By midnight, a storm had blown in from the Barrow-downs, carrying with it a cold drenching rain that soaked everyone to the bone. Tempers ran short as the men polished their weapons and repacked their gear, eager for the hour of departure. Finally, after what seemed like endless hours of waiting, Lotar came storming over to the firepit and began to speak....

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

Tara's Post for Lotar

Lotar stretched out his shoulders from being hunched for a good few hours. Staring the map down again, he nodded and took it out with him to the clearing.

The only people within earshot there were Soran and Guthwine, but he knew his words would be heard through the camp. It was silent as the grave that night.

'Allright! The plan is set! Thanks to Gareth, we know that this farm is unprotected on the outskirts of the town, almost backing onto forest. So this is how we shall attack'

'Two groups, one headed by myself, the other by Guthwine and Soran, will attack. My group from the roads, Soran's from the trees. You are not to be there dallying! This is a snatch and grab! Once you have what you came fer, you dissolve into the trees'

'There is to be no uneccessary actions, and you follow all orders given by your leaders, no questions asked! I have no problems in raking you over the coals meself if you say one words thats not straight. Is all understood?'

Kandel appeared beside his father 'I am supposing I will stay here?'

'Aye. We need someone reliable to stay here. You'll take with ye a few of our original people. I dont want that new group split up'

Kandel looked a little annoyed, but did not argue.

Lotar turned his attention back to the now forming group

'Well, are ye all ready?'

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

Child's narrative post

An answering cry split the night as the men thundered out a roar of approval, lifting up their arms and brandishing swords and daggers. They quickly formed up in two groups, some on foot and others mounted, beginning the silent trek southward from the outskirts of Chetwood to the tiny hamlet of Staddle.

[ November 20, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Chathol-linn]

The Mayor inspects the Hedge repairs

“What news?” said Harald to the Captain of Guards. They were walking toward the gate and the Hedge, where the Hobbits had labored under Berilac’s guidance.

“The whole town knows you rounded up the older boys and gave them an ultimatum. Except Farroweed of course. And now the miscreants are helping us with a will.“

“May they help as much as the Hobbits! Look at the improvement.” Harald waved to the Hobbit Ranger. “Berilac! When this is over we shall be in your debt.”

Berilac said something about the credit not being his. He called the Hobbit workers forward.

Harald started to speak. Then he realized he towered over them like a tree, and he cared for once. Kneeling brought him to their eye level. He thanked each adult and child and shook their hands.

The Hobbit leader said, “Say that we finish plugging all the holes in the Hedge. What then?”

“I have been thinking of our resources. Even with your good help, we Breelanders are spread all to thin. Our lads and lasses are coming to deepen the ditch. But the bandits may start raiding the farms at any time, and then we are lost. We are too few to hold the countryside, and if the farms fall, so will the town, alas. But I have been thinking of a plan. Sit with me here on the ground.”

Seated, their height meant nothing, Harald noted. Perhaps it meant nothing all the time. “Speak to no one of this but members of the town council,” he said. “We must assume the bandits outnumber us. Instead of spreading ourselves thin, what if we all stuck together in the town and lured them in? We could leave a weak place of our choosing and be waiting. Maybe a gate.”

“How could we lure them in?” asked Telien.

“We must have Minastan bring them to the point we choose. He can tell them he knows a secret way in, or that we have a food storehouse, or what he wills. When they come we will be perched high on building tops, and in trees.”

Berilac liked that idea – Big or Little would make no difference high up.

“We will have weapons and torches, but better, we shall have a net of ropes. The frailest gaffers and gammers can tie rope. And we will have a secret ring of people all around, with a fence of ropes and poles like a noose. It takes little training to hold a pole and a rope.”

“Our archers can disarm them – we’ll aim for their weapons,” said Telien. “Then we drop the nets and hold them under guard.”

“And talk sense to them, I hope,” said Harald.

Berilac cleared his throat. This was the first time he had talked serious council to the Mayor. He said “We Hobbits make good archers. But how can we let Minastan know our plan?”

Harald grinned. “He has a wolfhound that sleeps in Dantha’s barn when Minastan is away.” He pointed to the red handkerchief about his neck. “We will put a note inside this scarf, tie it around the dog, and put the dog on Minastan’s trail. Nothing hunts a trail like a good wolfhound.”

The Hobbit Ranger and the Captain of Guards nodded, thinking of the difficulty of defending the outlying farms. The three sat together for a while longer, having their war council. Face to face.

[ November 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Berilac, the Mayor, and the Captain of the Guard

The Captain of the Guard and the Mayor! This was a hopeful sign. It reminded him of the weekly counsels at the Ranger’s fastness – Men and Hobbits sitting down together to share tidings and to plan strategies.

Berilac volunteered to organize the Hobbit archers. Many, he knew, both male and female, would have little hunting bows. And since the family larder depended on what small game could be brought in, he knew they could use them with deadly accuracy. He asked Telien if perhaps four of his archers would stand with him, their longbows adding strength to his own and weight to the argument that the captured ruffians should surrender.

‘I like your idea about the oldsters making the net.’ Berilac’s brow beetled in concentration. ‘That room at the Town Hall – the one where the folk from the outlying farms slept that night of the meeting. Let’s get the gaffers and gammers together in there, push a couple of the long tables together in the center to form a working surface, and we can have them work in shifts – taking over when one gets tired. I should think that once we have the rope and the knotters together, it should take only a day or day and a half for them to complete a sizable net.’

They talked a little further of where they should have them enter. Berilac remembered Kali’s treasure hole, and offered it up as a suggestion. Using his finger, he drew the arc of the hedge in the dirt, so that it faced the other two. ‘Being realistic,’ he said, ‘the ruffians probably already have watchers set on Bree who report our activities as far as they can see them. They must know by now that we have started repair on the hedge and have started down here on its southern edge.’ He pointed to a section of the hedge between the North Gate and the wall of the Hill. ‘This is where one of the children pointed out a large hole, a place actually where the hedge meets the hill. And here,’ he said, pointing to a place nearer the gate . . . I’ve just remembered. It’s a gaping rent where that Farroweed boy crashed a cart one day. If we use these two, we can also position archers on this ledge along the hill line to prevent any escaping back through the hole, as well as on the building tops inside the town.’ Harald and Telien nodded their heads at this suggestion. I’ll hasten the lads who’ve volunteered to fix the North Gate itself, two of the Hobbit families atop the hill. We can get that done and secured, then look as if we’re moving the repairs southward along the hedge to meet those coming north. It will look as if we mean to leave those repairs at the far north until last . . .’

Harald agreed to write the note for Minastan and see that the note was set off. ‘We do need to think further when we might want him to lead them here . . . in a few days, do you think? The ruffians seem quiet enough at the moment.’

Their talk turned to logistics of getting the outlying families into town. Berilac offered to speak with his brother and brothers-in-law; he was sure they could convince the Hobbit folk to come in. ‘Again,’ he said, ‘we’ll need to decide how soon this should be done.’ He left the problem of convincing the Big Folk in the outlying settlements to the good graces of the Mayor and his Captain.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

All call it a day and head home

Their talk was interrupted by the approach of one of the Hobbit men. ‘Begging your pardon, Berilac, but we should be getting home now. The wives will be waiting on us, and there are some chores of our own to be seen to.’

Berilac stood, wiping his dusty hands on the thighs of his breeches and shook the Hobbit’s hand. ‘Of course, of course! Sorry to have kept you so long! On your way home,’ he asked, walking over to where the other men stood, ‘would you see some of the children safely to their doors?’ There was a general nodding of heads, as the Hobbits sorted out who lived near whom. He turned and spoke briefly to the Mayor and Telien, saying that perhaps they might speak again tomorrow and solidify their plans. They waved to the assorted workers as they left the site, and Harald called out his thanks once more.

Mausi’s children were going to their home with Berilac. And Edmund was included in the group, as the Ranger wanted to keep his eye on him until he was delivered to his mother. The boy had done remarkably well today, he thought, but still he felt the obligation to personally see him home. And besides that, he wanted to take him past the Comfrey’s place. He wanted Everard to show him his own menagerie of animals on the mend.

Everard had just gathered Pearl and Hamson to him, their steps heading toward the path that led to the top of Bree Hill. ‘Hold up, Everard,’ cried Berilac, herding Kali, Mondy, Ella and Edmund before him. ‘Let us walk along with you. I’ve someone here who might be interested in your animals. He has some talent himself in fixing them up when they’re injured.’ Berilac nodded at Edmund, whose little squirrel sat on his shoulder.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Late that night

The children and Mausi had all gone to bed. Berilac pulled the rocker close to the banked fire, and let the subdued heat from it warm his toes. It had been a long day . . . though a good one, he thought. Repair work was going well; the Mayor had the beginnings of a plan for defense. Berilac rested his head back against the chair, his thoughts flying out to his own little family. Fairlight and sweet little Alyssum - So far away. He smiled, thinking that soon there would a new little bairn held in the arms of his dear little wife.

If all went as smoothly as it had so far, he hoped to be heading home soon. He sighed, closing his eyes in the growing darkness of the parlour, the slow rhythm of the rocker lulling him to sleep . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth and Lilac:

Locking the common room and outside gate and then bidding good evening to the live-in maids who were scurrying off towards their bedchambers, Andreth pocketed the great iron key in her nightdress and hastily retreated to the family's private parlor. The Innkeeper sat huddled on a bench underneath the window listening to the wild winds and rain that now lashed unceasingly against the outer walls of the Pony. Gradually willing herself to relax, she turned her attention to the immediate task at hand, combing out her bobbing red curls and tying them back with a ribbon in preparation for retiring to bed.

As she did so, her mind drifted restlessly over the happenings of the past few days. Much had been accomplished. The burgeoning friendship between the two groups of children was evident both in the small dame school that she had founded and Berilac's project to rebuild the damaged hedge. Even Edmund was coming around. The hobbit ranger had explained how, that very afternoon, her own son and Kali had at least begun talking and seemed to share a certain fondness for animals.

Yet there was still much to be done. The task of gathering in the bounty from the farms had barely gotten under way. She hadn't been able to speak with Mayor Harald but Griffo and Tom had brought disturbing news earlier that evening. Some of the mannish farmers whose cots lay north of Bree not far from Staddle were reluctant to cooperate with the hobbits. One or two had even chased Griffo and his companions off their property with a string of invective and curses. Rumors circulating in the streets suggested that Tom Farroweed was responsible for this, speaking openly to anyone who would listen with the intention of arousing resentment against any plans calling for cooperative effort between the Big and Little Folk. Someone would have to devise a plan to counter this malicious gossip.

Andreth stood up and snuffed out the candle, pacing through the corridor to her own bedchamber when, much to her surprise, she heard a clanging noise from the front stoop where someone was pulling down insistently on the bell chain. Andreth glanced up puzzled since the great gates of Bree, now sturdily reinforced and carefully guarded, had already been secured for the night. Few would be out in weather like this unless some great necessity tugged at their sleeve. Suddenly, an insistent thumping was heard at the front of the Inn as if someone was whacking the door with a hearty stick.

Clutching a heavy candelabra overhead in her right hand, she hurried to the front gate. Bandits or not, she was Innkeeper of the Pony; the Inn would not turn anyone away in the midst of a storm. She peered out the front window into the inky blackness of the night and was just able to make out the hazy form of Lilac Greenhedge battering against the door with her sturdy cane. Andreth ran over and unlatched the gate, pulling an exhausted and bedraggled Lilac inside and immediately setting her in a chair close to the hearth to help drive the chill away. Then she ran over to the stables and, waking Ban, asked him to bed Lilac's horse in one of the stalls and pull the cart under the roof overhang where it would at least be sheltered from the worst of the downpour.

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

The two women sat side-by-side sipping steaming cups of apple cider that Andreth had warmed in a pot over the hearth in her own bedchamber. The Innkeeper gazed at Lilac and vigorously shook her head, "I'll have no such talk. Of course, you're staying here. We have plenty of beds and warm food. Hopefully, by morning, things will calm down. Then, you can go home."

While the women conversed, there were omenous rumblings from outside the Inn, as thunderclouds boomed out their warning and the sky gleemed with periodic bursts of light. "I'd rather be home now," Lilac protested. "My cat will be hungry and hiding under the bed with all this nasty weather. But I suppose you're right. It's no time to be outside battling a storm."

"Certainly not!" Andreth heartily agreed and then peered intently at the older woman. No one knew when Lilac had been born but she was still hail and hearty and very stubborn, going her own way most of the time and asking for help from few. Still, what was Lilac doing out on a night as grim as this?

"If you don't mind me asking...."

"I do mind!" came the sharp retort. "But I suppose I may as well tell you. I hitched up Strawberry and drove out this morning into the Chetwood hoping to find that encampment to see if there was anything I could do to help."

Andreth's mouth fell open as she took in the meaning of her friend's words. "Lilac Greenhedge, have you lost your mind? What if you had actually found those men? You would have been robbed or maybe skewered in two."

"Robbed?" the old woman chuckled. "The only thing I have worth stealing is Strawberry. And she would run home at the first chance she had. Anyways, I aimed to bring them a piece of good news..."

"And what good news would that be?"

Lilac's answer came in a hesitent, gentle voice, "That they don't have to be afraid of us. That we can live together. There's enough room on the hills around Bree for them to come and settle here and help us build the town."

Andreth's face went taut and white as she listened to Lilac's words. "How could you ever say that? They're bandits. The same kind of people who killed my husband. Why would we ever want folk like that?"

"You're so sure, Andreth Woolthistle! Well, I've lived a few years longer than you, and I'm not so sure. Maybe all these folks want is a place to settle down. From what I understand, they lost their homes to maruaders in the mountains. Everyone is so busy fixing hedges and strengthening gates and preparing for battle that no one can even take one minute to go sit down with them and talk."

"You're talking nonsense," Andreth objected. "If you came within a mile of these folk, they'd shoot you through with arrows. That is, after they stole everything you had."

"Maybe it is nonsense," Lilac sighed. "The Mayor thought so too when I spoke with him." The woman sounded wistful. "Maybe it is just the whisperings of a sad heart that has lived too long and seen too many folk suffer. But, mark my words, this will come at a price! There will be folk hurt and dying on both sides. From what I hear, these aren't just men; they are a small band preparing the way for a larger group with women and children. How would you feel seeing a child die?"

Lilac glared intently at Andreth, her eyes shaded in grief as she pled her cause. "We still have a chance to stop this, Andreth...you and I. If someone spoke up and made the others listen.... One last chance before things get so far out of control that there'll be no going back."

Andreth stopped for a moment and listened to the beating of the rain. She stared out into the blackness of the night and shook her head, "Maybe you are right. I don't know. And it would tear my heart to see a little one die. But things have gone too far for me to turn back, and the others feel that way as well. I must defend my home and child, or I will end up the one without a place to call my own. Even the hobbits feel that way."

Lilac turned away and lowered her head, staring at the golden embers that still smouldered in the bottom of the grate. One more instant and the embers had crumbled, turning into dull grey ash. The chance had slipped away.

For a single instant, Andreth lingered and lovingly placed her hand on top of Lilac's tousled silver curls; then, she slipped out the door into the corridor, leaving the older woman to her own bed and room. For some reason, once she stepped into the grey shadows of the hallway, her eyes began to fill with tears. She whispered fiercely to herself, "I'm sorry, Lilac. For me, there is no other way. Yet that mother who lost her home and village.....perhaps, she feels that way too....."

She forcibly pushed the thought out of her mind and went alone to her study where she kept a bedroll for such emergencies, all the while grieving for the soft warmth and comfort that her husband Bergil had once brought into her home.

[ November 21, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Why won't that fool down there go to sleep? We've been out here for hours, thought Soran irritably. He was crouched in cold misery under the dubious shelter of a spreading tree. Guthwine crouched not three yards away, waiting for the lights in the house below to go out and signal that the occupants had retired and the raid could begin.

Besides being uncomfortable physically, Soran was suffering from a last-minute crisis of conscience. He couldn't help thinking that, but for certain unhappy circumstances, the farmer down there could easily have been him. Yes, Lotar was a friend, but what if this man had lived in their village, and Soran here? Their positions were so easily reversed. . .

"Stop woolgathering," Guthwine whispered, tapping Soran on the shoulder. "The last light is out. Let's get going."

Soran nodded, not wanting to make any more noise than necessary. Let's get going so we can get through with this the sooner. He rose to his feet, wincing as joints popped and creaked. After I have a house again, I am never sitting in the rain for hours again.

As soon as the two bandits Lotar had placed in charge started, the rest of the men did too. Soran didn't particularly care for turning his back on them, but there really wasn't a great deal of choice in the matter.

The full force of the driving rain hit the group as they left the shelter of the trees, and Soran wished briefly that they could put this off for, oh, a few months. Like until summer. But they needed shelter immediately, and comfort would be the least of their worries when winter fully came upon them.

[ November 21, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

[Taralphiel]

Lotar moved from the shadows as he saw the lone bandit messenger bolt towards him. Raising a single hand, his group moved down the road, and were in full sprint before they reached the farm.

Soran's group was there allready. Few yells could be heard from inside. That group had headed for the interior, so his would take care of all the things outside.

Rasping a whisper to his group he said 'Were after supplies in the farm house! Tools, food, and anything of good worth! Go!'

The findings were ood enough. Just like Gareth had said, there were strung meats a plenty, and this would last them a long time. He watched quietly as the men filled sacks. He then looked about for any other things, weapons, or tools that could be used. After rummaging a little while, he saw that nothing he could take would be of any worth, and he waved to his group to set out. They paused for a moment, and Lotar was about to bellow when he picked up their apprehension.

'Whats that sound! What in blazes is Guthwine doing!!' he hissed...

~*~

Kandel

"I think these new recruits can fight. I don't trust them, I don't like them, but I think they will help us win the town."

Kandel listened as Kirima voiced her opinions, but before he opened his mouth, he heard his father begin to organise the raid.

'I'll go see what is going on. I'll come back andlet you know' he said and disappeared behind a tent.

He wasnt all that surprised that his father did not want him there. He did not doubt his father had a fatherly instinct, though it still irked him.

Moving back to his sentry duty, he said with a small smile

'Well, we will be the guards of the camp while they are away collecting spoils!'

He turned his face up to feel small raindrops on his cheeks. 'Hmm...I dont think I envy them, with the weather coming in'

Sitting down beside Kirima, he noticed the expression on her face.

'You wonder why I can stay this calm? You wonder why it doesnt bother me hmm?'

~*~

[ November 21, 2003: Message edited by: Taralphiel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Guthwine:

As blind fury took hold, Lotar glared over at the retreating figure of Guthwine who had intentionally defied his earlier order to pull back and leave the inner rooms of the farmhouse and the family's sleeping chambers untouched. It was too risky an undertaking, and he had no wish to face the angry herder and his sons, armed with pitchforks and heavy skillets. Anyways, he reasoned, they'd gotten what they came for -- a good haul of smoked meats and serviceable tools along with a dozen chickens and a litter of suckling pigs now hauled off kicking and mewling inside several large sacks. Two of the men had even managed to corral a huge grunting boar and a pair of sows and, by merciless prodding with long sharpened sticks, herded the pigs out into the black storm towards a small cart that rested some distance away under cover of a wooded grove. The only casualties in the raid were the farmer's faithful guard dogs who both lay on the ground, whimpering piteously with their backs and legs askew and a gash along the throat made by a thrust from Gareth's dagger.

Guthwine greeted Lotar's howl of indignation and his order to turn back with outright scorn. With a mob of new recruits chasing at his heels, he shut out the unwelcome words as further proof of Lotar's cowardice and lunged forward to the main door that led to the family's living quarters. One of the new recruits took his axe to the wood and smashed it in. The door tottered under the assault and finally heaved back on its hinges, with splintered shards of wood flying off in all directions. Within an instant, the band had pushed inside with the men pillaging and destroying everything they could set their hands on.

Dishes went crashing to the ground: pillows and mattresses slashed open as goose feathers spun through the air and the bandits made short work of the family's living area. Guthwine ignored the looting, and focused on locating the Breelander who owned this farmstead. Whatever valuables the family possessed would probably be with the farmer. The family must be hidden or was attempting to flee, just as his own villagers had done months before in the foothills of the Misty Mountains.

Guthwine mounted a small ladder that led upward to a croft filled with hay and a few tumbled bedrolls, evidently belonging to the farmer's children. At the far end of the loft was a window overlooking a twisted apple tree standing so close to the house that its branches actually scraped against the outer stone. There were puddles on the floor, since the shutter had been thrust back and the rain pelted sideways through the opening.

For one instant, there was complete silence. Then the sobbing of a child broke through, and a half hidden form of a small maid crouched lower in the hay vainly attempting to shield herself. Guthwine went over and yanked up the trembling body, holding it by the collar. "I'll do you no harm, lass, but where is your father?"

One by one, hazy forms emerged from underneath the hay, all but the two eldest sons who had already made their escape through the open casement. Guthwine dropped the girl and turned around holding his sword as he advanced towards the farmer who still clutched an old metal box to his body, "I'll not harm ye or your kin," Guthwine growled to the cowering man, "but we have need of that. Turn over the box...now! Or I swear I will split your head."

Without hesitation, Tom hurled the metal container to the ground and retreated to the far side of the croft, his body shaking and face stricken. His wife came over and stood directly in front of him, cradling his head between her hands, her own body trembling and wracked with fear.

There was a welcome jangle of coins as Guthwine swept up the box from the floor in his free hand and then backed away, retreating to the ladder. But before he could set his foot on the top rung, Gareth came barrelling up from the floor below, stepping into the loft with a broad grin etched on his face and his daggers cocked forward, pointing towards the farmer and his wife huddled in the corner.

Guthwine bellowed out a protest, "Enough! There's no more to be had here! Get back to the others!"

His own face a mask of rage, Gareth clenched the daggers by the hilt and, for a moment, seemed ready to cast them at the couple, disregarding the order that he had been given. Guthwine instantaneously pitched his body forward, hitting Gareth squarely in the chest and propelling him through the opening where the ladder had been propped. The ladder crashed backwards, as both men hurtled to the ground and landed with a thud, the cash box tumbling down after them, thankfully unopened, just a few paces away.

Guthwine pulled himself upright and bellowed at the looters, "Alright, we're done. Back to camp and fast!" He headed out the door followed by a string of men loaded down with the personal possessions of the family. The two rooms they left were in a complete shambles with furniture overturned and belongings sprawled out everywhere in complete confusion. A small doll lay on the window ledge, its head and feet detached. Guthwine came roaring out, triumphantly holding up the coin box. He caught the disapproving eyes of Lotar; Eruantalon stood by his leader's side....

[ November 23, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Soran did his share of plundering, but he started to feel just a bit sick by the time Guthwine went into the house. The sheer wanton destruction practiced by the recruits was overwhelming.

I thought we were just after supplies, he thought dazedly as one of the recruits smashed a barrel of corn that was too big to easily carry away, laughing while the hard-earned kernels spilt into the mud and were trampled into uselessness.

"Here you, stop that!" Soran began to shout. The ruffian only laughed harder and went on to another barrel. The old ex-farmer stood aghast for a moment, silently raving against the reckless waste. Had the fool any idea how much work it was to produce that much grain?

Another barrel was struck, spilling its precious contents. Soran winced. Apparently he hadn't.

Soran hefted a couple hams to his shoulders and began to run back to the woods, away from the reminders of what he had become. It didn't work out quite the way he'd intended.

Befor his eyes had quite adjusted to the darkness, he heard a yell, the tinkle of breaking glass, and the wet crash of something heavy hitting the muddy ground. Then his left boot caught on whatever it was, he dropped the hams to try to catch his balance and felt himself fly through the air. His eyes finally adjusted in time to see the large rock towards which he was hurtling.

Oh, damn!

[ November 23, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

[piosenniel]

The Farroweeds

At the urging of their mother, two of the older Farroweed boys had gone silently out the opening to the hay loft. ‘Bring help,’ she whispered to them, the sounds of heavy footsteps just starting up the ladder. They crept to the door and went quickly down the pulley rope.

‘Shall we split up?’ the younger boy asked his brother. ‘Not yet,’ the other replied. ‘Stick close by me and in the shadows until we’re well past these ruffians.’ He pulled his brother close to him as they crept to the far edge of the little farm. The noise of the raid grew dimmer as they slipped in among the trees. ‘You go to Farmer Thistle’s place,’ the older one said in a whisper, keeping his hearing tuned for any suspicious sounds. ‘I’ll go over to the Rushy’s place.’ The younger boy frowned at his brother. ‘The Thistles? Da said we weren’t to have nothing to do with those Little Folk.’ The older boy grabbed his brother by the front of his nightshirt. ‘Well, it’s Ma that’s sent us for help, isn’t it, and the Thistles are the closest. Farmer Thistle’s got six strong sons. We’ll need them all if we’re to run off the men.’ He pushed his brother down the dirt path to the Hobbits’ burrow. ‘Now hurry!’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Letty Farroweed had watched the scene unfold with wide eyes. Her face was pale, and she clung onto her husband tightly as Guthwine threatened her child. A small measure of relief eased her terror as Big Tom threw the cashbox to the bandit. For one brief moment it looked as if that might satisfy these demons that had sprung on them in the night. The feeling of terror, replaced by a small flicker of hope, began to recede.

And then she saw the face of the man who entered the loft, his daggers pointed at her and Big Tom. Again there was fear . . . but beneath it was a growing anger. This was the man her husband had brought into their house! She barely heard the commands by Guthwine or took note of the struggle between them. A cold, icy feeling crept over her, and she stepped away from her husband, gathering the remaining children to her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Despite the fact that they had taken more plunder than they could quickly be away with, the bandits continued to plunder and pillage the small holding. Caught up in the fury of the assault, they wreaked havoc on what they could not carry away in their arms. The garden was trampled through, the pig pens kicked apart and the pigs left to run squealing from the noise and the flying timber.

Several of them had broken out the windows in the house and were throwing things out the window. Their mates below had pushed the objects into a pile, and one of them had lit a chair leg from the fireplace inside the house, preparing to set the heap alight. He grinned wickedly, the fire of his torch lighting up his features in a ghastly way.

He dropped the torch with a yelp as an arrow hit his hand. His companions, too, began to yell, as a barrage of missiles hit them. Arrows from the little hunting bows of four of the Thistle lads along with the sharp rocks from the Father and his youngest son flew wildly into their midst. The Rushy’s had come just after the Thistles, bearing cudgels and staves and yelling loudly at the louts to give way. They were big, burly farmers, the lot of them, and they made an imposing image as they charged toward the bandits.

Guthwine called a retreat, shouting at the bandits to get out. It was no use fighting for something they couldn’t hold onto, and he had other plans for them.

It was Farmer Thistle who sought out the rest of the Farroweed family. He saw Big Tom’s face in the hay window and waved him to come down, shouting that it was safe now. Big Tom’s face was unreadable in the shadows cast by the door frame. But Letty looked out, when she heard the Hobbit’s voice, and nodded at him.

She turned away from the hay door and herded the children to the ladder. Big Tom called her back, saying they couldn’t trust the words of one of those Little Folk. For all they knew he and his kind were in league with the bandits. Letty looked at him with unmasked disgust. ‘It’s you that can’t be trusted, you fool! It’s you that led that man to our home. And you that showed him all about. And all for the sake of your stupid, stupid pride.’ She was shaking with anger as she faced her husband, the children wide-eyed behind her. ‘You and your self-serving pride – you almost had us murdered in our beds.’ She shook her finger at him as he came toward her. ‘You stay back, Tomsin Farroweed. You’ll not be talking me out of this one this time.’ She shooed the children down the ladder where Farmer Thistle and one of his sons now waited below. Letty climbed down after them, then rushed out into the yard to see where her other two sons were.

The oldest one had come back with the Rushy’s, and was just returning to the yard with the men, the bandits having been run off. ‘Where’s your brother?’ she asked frantically, seeing him nowhere. Farmer Thistle spoke up, her other children gathered round him. ‘He’s safe at my burrow, goodwife. I thought him too young to come back with us, and the wife is seeing to him. I’ll send one of the lads back to fetch him and a wagon. We can take you to one of your relations houses for the night.’

Letty thanked him, telling him they had no family close by. Farmer Thistle asked would she like to spend the night at his place then. She declined, knowing that her brood would burst the seams of his small place, and beside that, she did not feel safe out here. The bandits could hit another little farm she feared.

‘Well then,’ he said rubbing his jaw in thought. ‘We’ll take you into town. You can stay at the Inn, can’t you? Until you can sort all this out.’ Letty’s gaze drifted about the ruined house and yard. ‘Yes, the Inn,’ she said. ‘Safe behind the Gates of Bree.’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was well after midnight when Farmer Thistle and his son delivered Letty and the children to the Prancing Pony. The Gatekeeper was reluctant to let the Hobbit in, but backed down when Letty accosted him with her angry words. Wild-eyed, her hair flying in the night breeze, she came at him like some terrible wraith; the moonlight catching the folds of her nightdress gave her a spectral look. At least for this night, she was having none of it when it came to men telling her what she could and couldn’t do or think.

A short time later, Farmer Thistle was banging on the door to the Inn. ‘Open up!’ he called in a loud voice to a window that had swing open above. ‘Open up! I’ve someone in need who’ll be wanting a safe bed for the night.’

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth:

Andreth stirred and rolled over onto her side, drawing up her legs and hoisting the covers over her head in an effort to shut out the jangling noise that was floating up into her bedchamber from the front doorstep of the Pony. At the very edge of her mind, she was vaguely aware of someone standing outside the Inn pulling down repeatedly on the bell chain.

Andreth had tossed and turned after Lilac's departure, mulling over her stern words and admonitions, and wondering if she'd been too harsh in her attitudes towards the refugees; she had just barely managed to fall asleep. Now, once again, she was unexpectedly awakened. She sat up blearily in her bed, threw on a cloak, and padded down to the door, peering out the window to the porch.

This time, there were a whole host of newcomers. Farmer Thistle stood rapping with his stick against the door, with a woebegone Mistress Farroweed standing right beside him. Positioned just in back of them was a whole passel of the Farroweed children. To be truthful, Andreth was still not feeling charitably towards this particular family and for one split instant considered telling the entire group to go away and come back tomorrow morning. But Letty looked so openly distressed that even Andreth could not be angry for long.

The Innkeeper threw open the door and, after hearing the appalling series of events that Farmer Thistle outlined, she took Letty's hand in her own, giving it a little squeeze, and assured her that she and her children could stay as long as they needed. Rushing off to tell the servers to prepare the bedchamber, she grimly reflected on Lilac's visit. Whatever questions or hesitations she'd had earlier were gone. Folk who acted like this deserved every bad thing that would happen to them. The Innkeeper sat down for an instant to clear her head, and then decided on a plan of action...

[ 1:34 AM December 01, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Pio's post - Andreth sends Ban

Andreth woke Ban from his cot in the stable and instructed him to run to the Mayor’s house. ‘Tell him to come quickly,’ she told the wide-eyed young man. ‘He’ll want to know what’s happened. ‘Once you’ve gotten him, then run to Mausi Honeysuckle’s house. Berilac is staying there. Tell him what I’ve told you, and that we will wait for him to come.’
_____________________________________________

Chathol-linn's post - The Mayor sends Minastan a message, but is it too late?

Earlier that day . . .

“Farewell for now,” said Harald to his impromptu counselors Berilac and Telien. “If you get news, I will be at Dantha’s, and then I will take some rest.” He left them to discuss which four archers Telien could spare for the Hobbits and quickly came to Dantha’s house where she lived with her well-off aunt.

“Can you do it, sweeting?” he asked her. “Get the gammers and gaffers together first thing in the morning and get them to make rope netting.” He quickly explained the plan to lure bandits inside the town. “Here is the key to the Town Hall. Set them at tables, and give them my thanks for their help.”

Dantha smiled. “They don’t call Old Gammer ‘Netta’ for nothing,” she said. “She was the matriarch of a river family – before their freehold got raided. She’ll help and get the others to help too.”

“Ask them to be quick. Get as many hands as you can. Have you seen Willofain?”

“She is in the barn as usual. Wild one! Do you know, she reminds me of someone ….” But Harald was gone round the back and calling for the child.

“What is it?” said the girl, tousled with straw and needing a wash.

She needs a home more than a wash, thought Harald. Aloud he said, “Can you find Minastan’s wolfhound about?”

“He is here,” said Willofain. “What do you want with him?”

“I may not tell you that. You must run away now. What if some spy were to overhear?” He smiled and Willofain giggled as she skipped off, but Harald was only half in jest. From his pocket he produced a square of thick paper, very rare and belonging originally to Dantha’s well-off aunt. He had written the following message:

May the Powers That Be help us if this falls into bandit hands! Be warned that the Hedge is not as sound from the inside as it looks from the outside. Next to the North gate, that rent where Farroweed crashed the cart is still gaping. So is the conjunction of hill and hedge on that side. Should the bandits get wind of this by tomorrow night they could take the town, as we will lack vantage points for archers to loose their arrows.

Dantha laughed. “But Minastan knows the town layout better than anyone. No vantage points! He will think you have finally lost your mind!”

“No, he is smarter than that,” replied Harald, laughing also. “He will take my meaning, and no doubt think me the prince of mayors.”

“How will he know the message is from you?”

“I will wrap it in my red kerchief and tie it around the hound’s neck. Only Breelanders know it is mine.”

“And how will the hound know to look for Minastan?”

“By this!” With a flourish Harald produced a crumpled cap from his pocket. “Minastan was in such a hurry to go, he dropped his cap. When I called him back he did not answer! So I will save it for his return. Meanwhile, let us take the hound to where Minastan set off, let him get the scent from the cap, and send him on his way.”

They did this, and Dantha spoke to her aunt shortly after. By sundown, the aunt had coaxed some twenty of her older friends, including Netta, to gather at dawn’s light for tea, rope-making, and town saving. Harald headed home to catch some much-needed rest, thinking that Dantha’s company would have been better than the sweetest slumber.

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

Later that night . . .

In the middle of the night Harald lay sleeping with no other companion than the Seeress of Dreams. And what a good dream he got from her – Breeland was burgeoning with a great harvest, there was no such thing as bandits, and Dantha was at the door, asking him to –

“Open up, Mayor!” roared a voice. A fist hammered on his door.
_____________________________________________

Pio's post - Berilac

The Mayor was well on his way to the Inn when Ban arrived breathless at the Honeysuckle’s door. He pounded with all his might, yelling ‘Open up! Open up!’ Berilac, surprised from sleep by the harsh voice and the pounding jumped up from the rocker where he had been dozing by the small fire. Mausi and her children had come down from their rooms, their faces pale and filled with dread. ‘Stand well behind me,’ he ordered them, as he advanced toward the door, blade in the ready position. Mausi pushed her children back behind one of the stuffed chairs in the room and stood ready with her stout hickory-handled broom.

Berilac threw the door open and stepped to one side as a tall figure stumbled and tripped as the door gave way. ‘Don’t kill me, Master Berilac!’ squeaked Ban throwing his hands over his head as he lay sprawled on the floor. He felt the cold, sharp point of Beril’s blade withdraw slightly from the back of his neck, and felt the prodding of Miz Mausi’s broom on his shoulder. ‘It’s Ban,’ cried little Kali, who had sneaked up behind his mami’s skirts despite the pleas of his siblings.

At the sound of his name, Ban sat up on the floor, shaking his head to try and get his wits about him. ‘’What brings you in such haste?’ asked the Ranger, helping the pasty-faced young man to his feet and to a nearby chair. Ella ran to get him a cup of water as Mondy and Kali crowded up to him, plying him with questions.

‘Stand back, children,’ said Mausi, herding them a little ways away. ‘Give the poor lad room to breathe.’ Berilac watched Ban grip the cup of water hard as if it were an anchor for him in a mad world. Once the boy had drunk his share, he asked him once again why he had come.

Out poured the story of Farmer Thistle arriving at the Inn with the Farroweeds, minus Big Tom. And the story of the bandits and what they had done to the farm and what they had threatened. ‘Mistresss Andreth says you are to come right away, sir,’ he said to Berilac. ‘I’ve already wakened the Mayor and he is also bound for the Inn.’

Berilac pulled on his boots hastily and threw on his cloak. It was decided that Ban would stay with the Honeysuckles until the Ranger returned. He was tired and shaking from his mission, but Berilac told him he must stand in for him should there be an attack on the town. He was to keep the Honeysuckles safe. Ban nodded his head silently at this charge, and bade the Ranger fare well.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was a quarter of an hour later when Berilac knocked on the door of the Inn and was ushered inside. The Mayor and Telien were already there, along with Andreth and Letty Farroweed. The children had been put to bed, or so he was told, though he could hear certain creaks on the stairs, and the rustle of night-clothes as stealthy steps drew near to listen.

‘So, I have heard from Ban that the bandits have attacked and pillaged a farm.’ Letty nodded numbly at this bare assessment of the terror that had come on her family just a few short hours ago. ‘Once they start this, their pattern has been to escalate their raids on the outlying parts of a settlement. Or so it has been in the little towns they have overrun on their way here.’

He looked at the Harald and Telien and nodded at Farmer Thistle and his son, who had been asked to stay for the meeting. ‘We will need to move more quickly now. The Men and Hobbits and their families will need to come into the safety of the city, or they will pick them off, one by one. And we need to push the repairs to the hedge and dike at a faster pace.’

‘How do you want to divide up who of us will do what?’

[ 1:04 AM December 01, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Chathol-linn]

Mayor Harald at the meeting


Harald felt his temper quicken. He did his mayoral best to hide it. He wanted to rage, to shout at Letty, “Your no-good husband and son brought this misfortune!” But he subdued his anger. The last thing this poor goodwife needed was another attack on what was hers.

“Whom do I want to do what?” Harald repeated, looking at the assembled Farmer Thistle and his boy, Berilac, Telien, Andreth, and Letty.

“We think too much of defense,” said Telien. “Once the people are inside the town, those outlying farms will be picked clean and then burnt. I wish there was a way for the farmers to send a signal – perhaps ringing the dinner bell – when the ruffians arrive, and then all the neighbors could hurry to fight them off. Bandits will go where the pickings are easy.”

Harald wished he could agree. It would be good to knock a few heads in return for the wreck of the Farroweed farm, not that he cared a whit about Tom.

“People would be hurt for sure,” he answered at last. “Running around in the dark, not knowing who you were hacking. “No,” he continued. “For now we will do this. No further work on the Hedge; it is as good as it needs to be. We will follow the plan I spoke of earlier, with the nets. Sturdy folk who know the risk, positioned to fling the ropes over any group of bandits who enter.”

Andreth looked worried, for her inn was near both gaps in the Hedge. But she said, “You may use my rooftop to position archers if you like.”

“Anyone looking up will see archers against the sky,” objected Telien.

“They won’t see Hobbits,” Harald said. “Berilac, will you get good archers up there? No hotheads!” Berilack nodded.

“And the dyke?” asked Farmer Thistle.

“We can either try to deepen it enough to delay entry, or … fill the ditch with pointed stakes. Remember the bully boys who attacked the school children? I ordered them to make stakes, and they have done so with a will. But it will not be pretty. What is your thinking? ” Harald asked, grim-faced. "Please speak quickly, for we also have the farmstuff to deal with, and the farmers to house."

[ 12:43 PM November 30, 2003: Message edited by: Chathol-linn ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

About the same time outside the farmhouse in the woods......


Tara's post for Lotar:

Lotar tried to make his expression put to what his words couldn't. Guthwine had let a pack of wolves into the farmhouse, who knew what they were doing!

'Alright! Into the trees all of ye!' he hissed at his own group, who had obediantly slinked away. He was glad he had his old troop under his command. Moving away, he began counting heads. Mentally he had always done this after a raid. He loathed leaving anyone behind.

It was then he realised there was one missing. Stopping dead in his tracks, he waited for Guthwine to move past him.

'Where is Soran?' he said to Guthwine evenly 'You had better know where he is...'

~*~

Child's post for Guthwine:

Guthwine turned on Lothar exploding with rage...."What am I?....A nanny to be set in charge of young children? I told the men to keep close. I went in and got the money box, which is what we needed the most. All the others managed to keep up. It was dark and storming. We could barely see our way. Soran likely encountered one of the farmer's sons who'd already slipped out of the house. There's no sense going back. They've taken him captive or worse."

Lotar growled back, "I'll not have him left behind...."

Guthwine's response was swift and cutting, "Have you gone daft, Lotar? The place is swarming with neighbors by now. I saw them running across the fields even as we left. You'll get all of us killed for the sake of one man who's fallen behind. I'll have no part of it." Guthwine's men, the recruits that Eruantalon had gathered, nodded their heads in agreement and planted their feet solidly in the muddy ground, unwilling to go back.....

[Taralphiel]

Lotar

His feet began to sink in the mud, and rain poured down his face and over his cloak, drenching him through. But through the rain he doubted anyone could fail to hear him.

'You are a cold and ruthless man Guthwine. You are indeed a soldier. But not all is about war! We are not animals! Though these rabble have made that statement less than clear!' he heaved a bit after this, and turned his back.

'See if you can manage to get everyone back to the camp. Im going to do the honourable thing!'

Running back towards the farm, all the calls of protests were drowned out by the storm. Leaning back against the farmhouse wall, he carefuly looked about around the corner.

There, slightly out of sight, was Soran. It looked like he had fallen. Not giving thought to caution, Lotar snuck past the open front door of the farmhouse, and bolted to the mans aid.

Lifting him carefully up, he muttered 'By Eru Soran, you worried me! Lets get you back to a warm cot'

Feeling his head tentatively, he looked at the angry trickle of blood on his fingers. He thanked the Gods SOran was not far from the shelter of the trees when he fell.

Kandel

Shifting position again, and stretching out his shoulders, Kandel peered through inky black. He hadnt said a word to Kirima for quite a few hours.

He was about to open his mouth when he heard the sounds of many running feet. Through the night came the troop of bandits, first from his original company, then the new recruits.

Scanning them, he saw no sign of his father. He did not waste time in pulling Guthwine aside.

'Where is Lotar!' he said lowly

'He is a fool' is all Guthwine muttered.

Balling his fist, Kandel set out into the trees to look for his father...

[ 4:37 AM December 01, 2003: Message edited by: Taralphiel ]

[Arestevana]

Kirima sat as close to the fire as she could, soaked through and chilled to the bone. She continually scanned the woods, though it was doubtful that anyone would be out in the storm. She was about to speak when the sound of people approaching reached her ears. Kandel stood up.

Rudgar and Guthwine ran into the clearing, followed by the new recruits. Scanning the crowd, Kirima realized that Lotar and Soran were missing. She saw Kandel walk over to Guthwine and speak to him. Then the younger man turned and headed out into the storm.

"Kandel!" Kirima jumped up and called after him, but the storm drowned out her words. "Be careful," she whispered miserably. She walked over to Guthwine. "How did it go?" she asked nervously. "Why are the others missing?"

[Child of the 7th Age]

Guthwine:

Guthwine scowled at Kirima. "That fool Lotar wouldn't listen to me. Soran managed to get himself lost. Now, the place is overun with hobbits and men, neighbors of the Farroweeds who are swarming over everything. Lotar should have known better but he insisted on going back himself. They'll be lucky to get out of there alive."

Guthwine turned and stared at Kirima, noting the shocked expression on the woman's face. He lowered his voice and spoke again, this time more gently, "Look, I know what you're thinking....that I'm hard hearted and ruthless....that I couldn't care less whether Soran lives or dies. But things aren't that easy. We have thirty scouts here, give or take a few, and I can't spare a single one if this plan to attack Bree is going to succeed."

"There are hundreds of hungry men, women, and children back in the Weather Hills. And this little group is the only thing that stands between them and starvation. If I lose one man out of thirty to an unfortunate accident in a raid, that's one thing. But if I lose a third of this group trying to go back and stage a valiant rescue, I may make it impossible for that larger group of men and women to survive."

"Kirima, if you want to do something that's worthwhile other than stare at me with a look of disgust, help get these men to load up carts that we stole from the farmers. They need to fill them with food. And they need to get going tonight, rain or no rain! That's the only way those folk will survive. Most of these new recruits I don't trust any more than you do, but Edgar and Tomba are decent men and they've agreed to get the carts through."

Guthwine took a step forward, staring off towards the carts, and muttered under his breath, "I swear I'd make a bargain with a passel of Orcs if I thought it would mean I could save those villagers."

When several of the new recruits began moaning that they were too tired to work any more, Guthwine went over and barked at them to get going. Reluctantly, they began to pack everything into the carts. Guthwine responded gruffly to Kirima, "We could use a woman's hand in organizing this mess. Are you just going to stand there shivering, or try and help us?" Then, Guthwine ran forward and began loading the supplies onto the back of the wagons.

[ 2:55 PM December 01, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Arestevana's post for Kirima:

Kirima hung her head, listening ashamedly to Guthwine. He was trying to help them, and she hadn't trusted him. She listened as Guthwine explained about the carts, and how they needed to be organized. "We could use a woman's hand in organizing this mess." he said. "Are you just going to stand there shivering, or try and help us?" He ran to begin loading one of the wagons.

Kirima ran to another wagon, thrilled that she could somehow help. She scooped up a basket of something--in the dark she could not see what it was--and moved to set it in the wagon. She realized that those who were loading were simply piling supplies into the wagons however they might fit. For a moment she considered ignoring it, but quickly changed her mind. If the wagons were going to the main camp, they should carry as much as they could, and space was being wasted.

Kirima hopped up into the wagon and began rearranging the supplies as quickly as she could, packing things together tightly. After a while, the others who were working to load the cart began handing bundles to her to load, rather than have her move them later. For a moment Kirima was taken aback, but she soon turned her mind to the task at hand, and fell to it with a will.

[ 12:02 AM December 02, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Guthwine

As luck would have it, the rain began to slacken, making the men's job a bit easier. Once Guthwine saw that supplies were being gathered and Kirima had taken charge of ensuring that the provisions were correctly stowed in the wagons, he hastily retreated to his tent and, lighting a lantern, sat down at a table with a sheet of vellum and a quill pen in front of him. He wrote in the manner of a soldier, with words that were clear and unambiguous, leaving no question as to what he meant:

To the Elders of the Council in the Weather Hills,

Greetings!

As you decreed, we have begun our raids of neighboring farmhouses. We will continue to send wagons with supplies to you over the next few days. We will do this as long as we are able to outwit the local farmers. Use what you need, but be careful as you must set aside provisions for your journey.

Have the entire camp gather up their belongings and get ready for the march. Begin your westward trek no more than three days from the time that you receive this letter. Station the stronger men along the front, back, and sides of the column while placing the women and children inside to protect them.

The journey will not be easy. It is some seventy-five miles from where you are in the Weather Hills to our own encampment. With so many on foot, you can not make more than sixteen or seventeen miles a day. That would mean a journey of some four to five days.

The Breelanders understand that we mean to attack, but they do not know when. Try and maintain that illusion of surprise as long as possible. Avoid the Great East Road where you are sure to be seen. Travel north along the Weather Hills till the mid-point of the range and then cut across the open fields in a southwesterly direction, making sure to stay north of the Midgewater Marshes. That will bring you around to Chetwood where we are camped. That way is more strenuous but you are less likely to run into prying eyes until late in your trip.

I am instructing Tomba to remain at the Weather Hills and lead you back here as he knows exactly where we are. He and Edgar are two of our few trustworthy recruits. Most are not worth the ground they walk on, but what else can we do?

As to Lotar, he blows hot and cold--one minute hanging back from attacking the farms and the next rushing in to try and save someone he cares for at grave risk to his own life. He is no military leader but a good and brave man who heatily dislikes me. I hope he will make it back from his ill-advised rescue attempt in one piece. As much as he curses me, I would still rather have him at my side that be standing alone.

I must leave now. The wagons should be ready to pull out soon, and I must instruct the men that we will strike another farmstead tomorrow night.

Looking with longing towards Bree,

Guthwine

With that, the man set down his quill and folded the sheet over, walking out of his tent to find Tomba and learn if there was any news of Soran or Lotar.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:00 AM December 08, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Berilac at the night meeting

‘Well, now,’ came the soft, slow voice of Farmer Thistle. ‘I don’t think those Men will attacking us any too soon.’ He opened the window near him just an inch, letting the sound of the down-pouring rain thunder into the room. ‘Mayhap we should slow just a little. I can get the Hobbits in the outlying farms to come in, but it will take a few days, three or four at least.’ He rubbed his chin while he thought, then looked at the Mayor. ‘Best you get one of the Men to get the other Men in. Oh, and one other thing – we’ll need a place to bring in our livestock – a few of us have Sheep, and there’ll be some pigs, and the hens of course.’

Berilac nodded his head as Farmer Thistle spoke. ‘My brothers-in-law, Griffo and Tomlin, will help you get word to the other Hobbits. And as I recall Griffo knows some of the Men farmers near him – he said he’d get them rallied.’ The Ranger turned to Harald. ‘The Hedge, I’m afraid, is not that far along. I know we were going to leave the north end open – but there is one more section that needs to be done before that. Give us two days and we can see it done.’

He spoke to Andreth next. ‘I think it will be enough to have the Hobbit men work the rest of the Hedge. If I remember correctly you had things that the children needed to be doing here – getting the supplies in order and inventoried. And to be honest, I don’t want to see them out in the damp and cold. We don’t need sick children on top of or other worries.’

‘I’m not so sure the bandits won’t strike again,’ Berilac went on, thinking more on what Farmer Thistle had said. ‘They’re getting desperate, I think. Let’s bring the folk in as quickly as we can from the outlying areas along with their valuables and their foodstuffs and stock. That will be another prompt for the bandits to want to make the attempt on Bree itself.’

Telien made the suggestion of an armed patrol or two in the countryside at night. ‘We should think on it,’ he said. He also spoke up about the staves in the ditch being a good idea, and Berilac seconded it. ‘It will be easy to set them deep into the ground thanks to the rain.’ Telien agreed, saying, that as Berilac’s hedge menders brought in boughs for the holes, perhaps they could bring in more than needed – if a light layer were put down over the staves in the ditch, the bandits would be unaware and some might be stopped that way.

Harald spoke up again saying he would see to getting the net done and have Telien scout for places for the archers. He would also see to the places they could allot to keep the livestock in.

‘Send messengers out about the town, too,’ suggested Berilac. ‘To let the folk know what will be happening in the next few days.’ He pulled his cloak back around him, preparing to leave.

Dawn was not far off, and there was much to get done that day. Farmer Thistle went to Mausi’s with Berilac and the others returned to their own beds for what little rest they could glean from the short night.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Soran lay unconscious by a large wooden beam, a gash in his forehead where it had struck a stone. He breathed shallowly, sending little puffs of fog skittering along the surface of the oozing mud. His eyes were closed, either in pain or simply in a reaction to the rain.

All was darkness and a feeling of floating. It was vaguely pleasant, certainly more peaceful than the actual situation. A rough voice intruded, worried and almost familiar.

"By Eru, Soran, you worried me! Let's get you back to a warm cot."

A rough and calloused pair of hands slid under his shoulders, turning him over and pulling him up. A low moan escaped as his rescuer draped his arm over his shoulder and began to stagger away from the raided farmhouse as quickly as possible.

They made little progress, as the mud stuck to their boots and Soran was still unconscious for all practical purposes. Both men were well soaked and liberally coated with sticky mud. Fortunately for them, Soran had been only a few yards from the edge of the forest when he fell.

They had just reached the shadows of the trees when Kandel found them. With his assistance, it was easier to carry the wounded man, though not a great deal. Their limping progress was slowed yet more once in the shelter of the trees. Mud and underbrush.

"Ooh, my head . . ." groaned Soran, startling the two men on either side of him. He squinted towards the man on the left, trying to recognize him through rain, dark, and pain-blurred vision. He was fairly certain that it was Lotar, but he couldn't be sure. The one on his right was younger, much younger, and if one was Lotar, the other was probably Kandel. He reached up and fingered the tender place on his head. His hand came away wet, and not from rain either.

"We're almost to camp. Think you can walk?"

Soran nodded and instantly regretted the motion. But the bedraggled trio pressed on, and soon saw the warm light of a fire ahead.

[ 11:30 PM December 03, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

[piosenniel]

Orofaniel's post - Rosie

The sun was about to rise and the darkness to disappear. The morning was to come and Rosie woke. Beside her was Hedgar, still fast asleep. Rosie got up, and dressed. She wore one of her green dresses that morning, the colour she liked best. There were bright flowers on the dress, and it reminded her of spring. The season she liked best of all seasons...

She huddled down to the kitchen in a hurry so that she could make food ready for her husband and for Fippi. "Oh No!" There was no flour left. How could she bake now? Without flour, no baking... Rosie thought and sighed.

Why had she forgotten to take some from the mills the day before? Rosie gave a second sigh. “Oh well, I guess I have to run out to the mills, and see if there’s a bag with flour there,” Rosie said to herself as she grabbed her coat.

She ran across the field while the wind was blowing swiftly in her hair.
“You shouldn’t be running around like that, after what happened this night.” A hobbit cried. “What..?” Rosie cried back.

The Hobbit stood at the other side of the field and she ran faster so she would reach him. “You shouldn’t be running around like that.” The hobbit repeated as she came closer. Rosie could now see that the Hobbit was no less then the gardener to her neighbours.

“I don’t understand….” Rosie said and looked at him. “What has happened?” she said gravely. She knew it had to be something, because the hobbit looked as he was surprised that she didn’t know what had happened.

“Haven’t you heard?” The gardener asked surprisingly.

“You haven’t heard that a group of bandits attacked the Farroweed farm and took many of their belongings?” The hobbit asked Rosie and shook his head. Rosie’s eyes turned blank.

“W-What..?” She asked again in horror. “D-did anyone…..g-get hurt?” She asked again. “No, not that I know of….. They were lucky, I’m tellin’ ya…” The hobbit said still shaking his head from side to side in disgust of the bandits.

“So that’s why I cried for you Rosie.” The hobbits said. “We ought to be careful…You never know what could happen….not even here, a place we thought was safe.” The gardener added.

“Oh, thank you for you kindness,” Rosie said and shook her head as well. “I really hope that those bandits get caught, and of course that the Farroweed’s are fine….” Rosie said.

“I better get that flour quickly then,” Rosie said. “Hm?” The gardener muttered. “Oh, no….it’s just…I’m just going to get some flour at the mill, before I go back home. Silly me, forgot to bring it last night,” Rosie said. “Be careful then, and hurry!” The gardener said.

Rosie said good-bye to the gardener and walked the last bit to the mill. Luckily there was some flour left, so the running over the fields wasn’t in vain. While Rosie walked home, she thought of the bandits. What a horrible thing to do, she thought; to attack the Farroweed’s farm.

“Hedgar dear?” Rosie cried as she opened the door to the Hobbit hole. “Are you awake?” She cried. “Yes, I’m here Rosie,” a voice said. It was obviously Hedgar’s because Rosie found her husband sitting at the table at the kitchen.

“Have you heard…..?” Rosie said, now breathing heavily. “Heard what, honey?” Hedgar asked curiously. Rosie seated at the chair in front of him.

“So, you haven’t heard then?” She asked to be sure. “No…..I don’t think so,” Hedger muttered. “So, what’s this about?” hedger continued. “The Farroweed farm was attacked by bandits,” Rosie said quickly. Hedgar gazed. “A-attacked?”

“Yes, and the bandits stole some of their belongings as well,” Rosie said. “None were hurt however. They were very lucky,” Rosie added. “This is terrible news, my dear,” Hedgar said and rose from the chair. “I know,” Rosie replied and sighed.

“How did you get to know this, Rosie?” Hedgar asked. “Well, this morning I found out that there was not enough flour for baking so I went out to the mills to see if there were any. When I came across the fields the neighbour’s gardener informed me, and told me to be careful,” Rosie said and sighed again. “I agree, we should be careful,” Hedgar said and looked at Rosie. “What about Fippi then? Should we let him go to school?” Hedgar said.

Rosie needed a moment too think about this. She really didn’t want her little boy to be afraid. “Well, let’s not tell him. That will save him from being afraid. The boy doesn’t need to know,” Rosie concluded. The thing Rosie didn’t know was that Fippi had been standing in the next room, and listened to the whole conversation......

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:58 PM December 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Novnarwen's post

Hedgar laid his eye over the mills, his mills... And his wife’s of course... and... his son's. The fat hobbit man called on Fippi, who apparently but not surprisingly was busy, climbing trees. In fact, the tallest trees in the area. Hedgar listened, waiting for some sort of an answer from Fippi. First, a tree branch broke with a ’crick-crack’ . This was followed by the sound of two feet or a back, (Hedgar couldn't tell the difference) hitting the ground.

"Sonny?" Hedgar called again. A deep sigh was heard before two springing feet made sure that Fippi was at least alive. Hedgar stared towards the door, hearing his son come closer and closer. Hedgar turned as he opened the door for his son, "Come on boy," he urged. To the Hobbit's surprise it wasn't Fippi, it was another hobbit man. "Fippi?" Hedgar said, this being his first reaction. "Hmm. Can I help you?" Hedgar muttered, as he realised he had called this fellow a boy...

"Well, I have a message," he said, trying to hide his big smile. Hedgar grew red, and understood how embarrassing this was, for him, and perhaps for this messenger also.

"There has been much going on lately," the messenger started. Hedgar opened his eyes wide
open, and listened to the hobbit's message.

*********

"There is work to do then," Hedgar said with determination, when the man had finished. He nodded, while giving a faint smile. Hedgar continued;" The hedge! We must finish it! Repair it!" The volume of his voice had filled the air. The messenger looked almost frightened by Hedgar's sudden outbreak, even though it was mere eagerness to get it all done before another attack. Hedgar kept his eyes on the messenger, but realised soon enough that he was probably sick of standing there at the doorstep, and the Hobbit man invited the messenger in.

"You're too kind," he lied. "But I really have to get going," he continued, running off again. Hedgar laughed. He hadn't by chance bored him? Or scared him off?

"Fippi?" Hedgar called again, as he stepped inside. Rosie appeared behind Hedgar, telling him that Fippi was already inside. The husband looked questioningly at his wife, but she waved him off, telling him that the boy sneaked in earlier, because he didn't want to get his father cranky.

"So, what was all this about?" Rosie asked. Hedgar had to retell the story, this time being charismatic, and not desperate. "So, do we want to have a family in our house?" Rosie asked.

[ 1:19 PM December 04, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Taralphiel]

Lotar

His footsteps were being weighed down in sludge and he slowly passed through the trees. Sorans sodden arms hung slacky over his shouders as he carried him along. Cursing Guthwine every step he walked, he didnt notice the calls of his son till he was right in front of his face.

'Guthwine arrived at camp without ye, and I knew something had to have happened!' he said raggedly as he took one of Soran's shoulders over his.

'Hmph, always the soldier, blast him' Lotar grumbled.

With Kandel's help, it did not take them all that long to get back to the camp. But by that time, all three were soaked through, muddy, and grumpy. Soran had roused, and was now taking careful steps, but the two men were still at his side, lest he fell. Lotar could see the upcoming campfire, and the light showed the gash on Sorans head clearly.

They manouvered their injured friend to a log by the fire. Some of the new recruits were taken aback that Lotar had actually come back, and with Soran alive at that.

Kandel rushed away and came nack with scanty blankets, and draped them over the two men. Kirima was stooped by Soran, carefully inspecting his head, and seeing what she could do for it.

Lotar was still heaving from the exertion as he said 'Get Guthwine here now'

[ 1:20 PM December 04, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Guthwine:

Hearing the impatience in Lotar's voice, Kirima stood up and stormed out of the tent hoping to locate Guthwine. Her search was a short one, for she could see Guthwine striding up the path not more than a dozen paces away, marching purposely towards her.

Guthwine bent over and clapped his hand on Kirima's shoulder adding a hearty word of thanks for the work the woman had done in loading up the wagons. A broad grin played across his face. "They're off now. The wagons... I'll rest easier tonight knowing those carts are headed to the Weather Hills. They should be there in three days. More provisions will be needed but at least we've made a start."

Pushing up the flap of the tent, Guthwine came inside to face the scowling face of Lotar. He glanced over at Soran and beamed a welcoming nod, "Ah, so that fool Lotar found you! Next time, Soran, stick closer to the band."

Guthwin took a deep breath and plunged forward as if nothing untoward had happened, "Now, about tomorrow night's raid..."

Lotar retorted with anger. "Tomorrow night's raid? First, you'll answer for tonight's. Soran could have been killed!"

Guthwine glanced up and replied in a steady voice, "If Soran had stayed with the band instead of straying off by himself, none of this would have happened. You were just lucky to get him out without getting yourself killed."

"I'll not have you interfering again!" Lotar retorted with anger.

Guthwine shrugged his shoulders, "Fine, as you wish! Let's split the men and make an agreement to stay out of each other's business. You lead the raids against the farms. I'll spend my time devising tactics for getting into the town, learning the layout of the streets and gates, and finding out exactly what's going on in Bree. And I'll also have us prepare the camp for the arrival of the main party."

"The main party?" Lotar eyed him suspiciously.

"Aye, the main party. The entire band should be arriving here in ten to eleven days, no more than that, unless the weather turns bad. The carts with the provisions were already headed to the Weatherhills. I included a directive to send everyone forward, just as the council instructed me to do when I left."

Lotar's face went red but he held back his fury, replying in an even voice, "Whatever the council may have said, you might have consulted with me first!"

"Aye," muttered Guthwine. "Just as you consulted me when you decided to ride back into that camp? I've no quarrel about rescuing a man, but the commander of the unit is too valuable a man to risk. There were others who might have done that job... "

The tension in the tent was palpable as the two men stared at each other with open hostility: each brimming over with anger but reluctant to come to blows with the fate of so many riding on their shoulders.

Finally, Lotar spoke, "I'll be the judge of that!" He turned around to face Guthwine and nodded his head, "So be it then. My men will raid the farms and send the carts with provisions on to the Weather Hills. I'll have Minastan help me as he seems to be one of the few new recruits a man can actually trust."

"Just mind your own actions as I'll be keeping an eye on things. And, if I was you, I'd keep a tight rein on those recruits."

Guthwine hastily grunted his assent and departed for his own corner of the campsite.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:35 AM December 08, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth:

Although the thunderclouds had cleared by early morning, the sky was still a cheerless grey, and the streets within the city were ankle deep in mud. Deep rutted tracks criss-crossed the ground making it hazardous to navigate a wagon through the narrow lanes at anything faster than a crawl.

Breelanders had arisen from their beds to hear the grim news of what had taken place the night before. Neighbors traded stories over the back fence, some of them grossly distorted, while Berilac's messengers went from neighborhood-to-neighborhood, and even door-to-door, to try and dispel the wildest rumors. But even when folk were given the correct information, the townsmen were sober, even glum. They huddled together in small groups grumbling and complaining, debating what the city's next move should be.

Mayor Harald and Berilac lost no time in organizing volunteers to take on the new tasks that needed to be done and trying to restore some sense of order and optomism among the citizens at large. Yet, in all the busy preparations, few stopped to speak with the children, at least using words that the little ones could understand. There was too much to do in too short a time.

Andreth was the first to notice that something was wrong. Usually in the morning, before the schoolday started, a small group of children played outside under her window, throwing balls or chasing each other around the outer walls of the Inn in a spirited game of tag. This morning, there were no children to be seen. The adults who had accompanied them to school quickly hustled them up the steps and inside the Inn where things seemed a little safer than out on an open street.

Andreth soon discovered that it was difficult to focus on regular lessons. Her own mind was wandering. She could see the same was true for the children, many of whom seemed upset. Recognizing that she would be better off dealing with the problem head on, Andreth told the children to set aside their slates and chalk, and then announced that they would be doing something different today.

For a moment she surveyed all the children sitting before her, and in each pair of eyes she read a different story. A few were angry and others afraid. Some swaggered around announcing their presence to the world, while others cowered in the corners hoping that no one would see them. One or two looked determined and eager to make a difference. But, wherever she looked, she could see signs that the events of last night had left its mark on every child in the room. In this way, at least, Lilac had been right.

Big or little, her students were finally united.....united in their common fear of the enemy and the need to defend their families and homes. This is what she'd been working for. This is what she'd wanted to happen. But at what cost?

Andreth sighed and stood up, struggling to put her feelings into words, "I know that everyone here heard what happened last night. A group of bandits attacked the Farroweed farm and carried away many of their belongings. Thankfully, no one was hurt, and Mayor Harald and Ranger Berilac are taking steps so it won't happen again."

"But I know I was very frightened when I heard this, and I imagine you were too. Maybe this morning, we'll set aside our regular lessons. We'll take a little time to talk about what happened and how you feel about it, and maybe some of the things you and your family can do to help make things better."

"Then, when we've talked things out a little, we'll go have a look at that storeroom, and finish straightening all the supplies and food. I think we'll be getting a lot more things over the next few days."

Kali stuck up his hand and waved it vigorously in front of Andreth's nose, asking, "Mima says I can't go work on the hedge anymore with Berilac. In fact, I can't go outside the walls at all. We all have to stay here. Why not? I liked helping the Ranger. And I was good at it."

"Yes, I suppose you were. All of you... You have nimble fingers and sharp eyes. But it's still wet out there and quite raw. It would be too easy to catch cold. Plus, I badly need your help in the Inn. We may soon be flooded with guests, and we need to make lists of all the food."

Kali looked up again and lowered his voice, "I think it's because she's afraid.... She's afraid the bad men will come again."

Andreth nodded, "Yes, she wants you to be safe. We're doing everything we can to be sure no one gets hurt. So you need to be careful and do what your parents say so they can take care of you."

Andreth looked expectently around the class, asking if anyone else had something they'd like to add....

[piosenniel]

Orofaniel's post - Fippi

"Mima says I can't go work on the hedge anymore with Berilac. In fact, I can't go outside the walls at all. We all have to stay here. Why not? I liked helping the Ranger. And I was good at it."

Fippi felt sorry for Kali. Fippi as well wanted to help the ranger, even though there were dangerous bandits around. That would only mean that he would see Berilac, his hero, in action. Fippi smiled to himself, and decided to ask his mother when he came home if he still could join building the hedge.

Fippi raised his hand in the air as Kali had done before him. “Yes, Fippi?” Andreth asked.

“I’m not afraid of the bandits,” Fippi said and looked down. “Oh….” Andreth said. “I think it’s very good that you’re not being frightened by such people. We ought to stand against them. Right?” Andreth said. Fippi nodded.

“Childern….” Andreth began. “How did you get to know about the attack?” Andreth asked slowly. Fippi raised his hand again. “Yes, Fippi….”

“Well, my mom….she was picking up some flour at the mills and one of the gardeners to our neighbour told her. Then my mom told my dad. I don’t think I was supposed to hear it because they didn’t….tell…..um..me…” Fippi said and blushed.

“You eavesdropped?!?” Kali exclaimed. “Not really…” Fippi lied. “They were talking to each other.....Loudly...” Fippi said to defend himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Esgallhugwen's post - Lily:

Lily fidgeted in her desk, all this talk about the bandits made Lily uneasy; although, Poppy had told her not to worry and to be brave it would be over hopefully soon than they can go back to their peaceful lives. Lily hoped that it was true and that no one would get really badly hurt.

She put up her hand next after Fippi was done, 'yes Lily' Andreth smiled reassuring her it was ok to speak. 'Well..' she paused 'Poppy told me that they were coming. She said I had the right to know, there are no secrets in her house' she stopped again and pulled one of her golden curls 'and she also told me not to be afraid that all of us big and little folk should stick together and we'll get through it'.

Some of the class had become encouraged while others were still slightly nervous, little Lily included; she clutched her stone pendant tightly. If there was any more work to be done anywhere including dealing with the hedge Lily would be there, with Poppy of course, helping out by her side.

Lily added a final statement, 'I'll do anything I can, I'm not afraid to help!'.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Esgallhugwen's post - Poppy:

Poppy busied herself about the hole, cleaning and doing some last baking and cooking for the day. The gaffer couldn't help but snicker as Poppy fluttered about the house like some butterfly or hummingbird.

She was doing all she could to keep her mind away from worrying about the bandits that were going to come. Poppy had hoped and wished so dearly that it wasn't so, that perhaps they had changed their minds, but she knew it was foolish to think that; they would come and everyone was doing what they could to prepare for it.

The young hobbit lass sighed taking a seat next to her gaffer and sipping on some peppermint tea. The family they had taken in was busy about the town seeing to supplies and what they could do to further help.

Poppy was glad everything seemed to be working out, although Bree looked as if it had become smaller with the sudden increase of people. Yes it was no doubt more crowded than it had ever been but that was something that needed to be done for the safety of everyone.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:02 PM December 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Berilac

There was to be no sleep for Berilac after the meeting, and none for Farmer Thistle. Mausi’s house was quiet when they arrived, she and the children fast asleep. The Ranger stirred up the embers of the fire, adding some shavings and a few small pieces of wood to the hungry flames. Drawing their chairs close to the warmth, the two men talked until dawn. Farmer Thistle would gather his sons when he got back to his little holding and they would see to their neighboring farms. News of the raid would have already gotten round the outlying area, and they would start the requests for families to get themselves into the safety of Bree itself. Berilac wrote two messages, one to be delivered to his brother, Rosco, and one to go to Griffo and Tomlin, his brothers-in-law. They could all start the message chain in their areas, and Griffo could see to the Men he knew who lived near him.

The little household was just stirring when Berilac stood at the door seeing Farmer Thistle off. Kali came up, his feet padding on the wooden floor of the little hallway, and stood just behind Berilac, his little hand seeking that of the older Hobbit. Knuckling the sleepy dust from the corners of his eyes with his free hand, he yawned, asking what the man had come about.

‘Nothing to worry about before breakfast,’ said Berilac, a smile creasing his grey, tired face. He swung the boy to his shoulders and trotted toward the kitchen where Mausi and the others were just fixing the morning’s porridge. ‘We’re here to help!’ he declared, sliding a giggling Kali to the floor.

It was near the end of breakfast, that Berilac gently explained what had happened to the Farroweed family, and what he was planning to do. ‘I think Andreth still wants the children at school. She has things for them to do that will help us get ready to meet the bandits when they attempt Bree.’ He reached out and ruffled Kali’s tousled curls. ‘Why don’t you all get ready to go, and I’ll go with you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ella, Mondy, and Kali had proved a subdued group as they walked to the Inn. Berilac gave them into the capable hands of Andreth, saying Mausi would be there to pick them up when classes were done.

His steps turned toward the Hedge where the Hobbits had already gathered and were hard at work. They nodded as he approached, but did not slow the pace of their labors. Rolling up the sleeves of his tunic, he pitched in to help them. Today and tomorrow, if they worked, long and hard, the Hedge should be done up to the North Gate. Elfrid and Sammael were already starting the repair of the Gate there, and should be finished then, too.

He wondered, as he worked, if the Mayor had sent off the message to Minastan. It would be helpful to know if the bandits were bringing in more of their own. His thoughts turned to Farmer Thistle, hoping that he had already contacted Rosco and Griffo. Giving a sigh at the thought of how independent the outlying families could be, both Hobbits and Men, he made a small plea to whomever might be listening, that the gathering in might be successful.

So much to be done, he thought. So little time . . .

[piosenniel]

Will Farroweed

‘Ma, I’m going now!’

Letty’s footsteps hurried to the door of the room where they had spent the night. Like a mother hen after the fox has been nosing about, she wanted to keep her chicks close. But Will was set on going out to work on the dike this morning and would not be persuaded.

It might be said he had had an epiphany of sorts, seeing the bigger, stronger group of ruffians threaten his family and destroy much of their belongings. But such a word might be too strong for the dawning understanding that had crept into his fourteen year old brain. He was beginning to understand the effects that rough and bullying actions had on those who were unwilling victims. And while he had not yet generalized those budding realizations to the whole of his conduct, he was sickened by the sense of loss and fear that now shadowed his mother, his siblings, and himself.

And Farmer Thistle and his sons, attacking th larger bandit group - their aid had come uncalled for the night of the raid. And the kindness the Hobbits had shown to his mother as they saw the bedraggled family safely to the Inn. His cheeks flushed a little at the thought of them and he wondered if he would have stepped up if they had been in dire need. He shrugged away those thoughts as useless. ‘I would now,’ he said to himself, picking up the shovel he’d borrowed from Andreth. He brandished his shovel like a club, shaking it at an imaginary group of the bandits.

Pearl and Hamson Comfrey saw him as they entered the Inn for classes. They drew back, cringing against the wall, as he drew near, his shovel in hand. Hamson’s little hand clung onto his sister’s in a tight fist, and he shut his eyes tight against the blow or shove he expected.

There was only the soft brush of Will’s cloak against Hamson’s arm as he passed, and the mumbled ‘Sorry’ trailing after the retreating figure of the older boy. The two hobbits walked on toward class, wondering – had Will just made an apology of sorts to them?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

‘Right, then, mates!’ came the crew boss’ dismissal. He had outlined the new plan for the day. The staves that Will and some of the other boys had sharpened were to be driven deep into the bottom of the ditch just before the dike, and covered lightly with leafy branches. The men were just finishing up the clearing of the ditch to the north, the boss had said, and now were working their way back toward them, placing the pointed staves. Will’s group and several others would be working their way northward toward them. ‘The Hobbits who are working on the Hedge have brought piles of extra branches for us to use,’ he went on, explaining the carts filled with leafy offering that had begun arriving. ‘You, Will, and your little gang – you follow along behind us and get the staves hidden. The Hobbits will lend you one of their wagons.’

Roddy snickered at the boss once he had finished giving directions and turned away. ‘Hobbits! Surely he can’t think we’ll want to use anything the little rats have touched. Much less speak with them.’ His complaint was cut short by a smart rap to the back of his head by Will. ‘None of that now. This is serious business. Just do what is needed and don’t make trouble.’

Old habits die hard and a bit of the old Will flared up as he grabbed Roddy's arm to emphasize his point. ‘Or you’ll have me to deal with . . . understand?’

[ 3:25 PM December 04, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Driven by concern for their families, a concern fueled by the flying rumors of great hordes of ruffians sweeping down on them from the north, most of the outlying folk of Bree-land had packed up their wagons and headed for the safety of the town proper. With them came their treasured possessions, their money boxes or coin-filled socks, their livestock and foodstuffs from garden, pantry, and smokehouse. Over the past week, the Great East Road had born a motley procession of folk of all sorts upon its packed dirt track. And now the passing wagons had slowed to a trickle as the last of the Big and Little Folk crowded into Bree.

Places to stay had been found for all of them – some with town folk who had opened their homes to their distant neighbors, and some into the large Halls that served the town for meetings and for the running of the government. Bree was bursting at the seams with this influx of bodies, and all were elbow to elbow with their neighbor now, learning as best they could to be accommodating. Mayor Harald had appointed a committee of Big and Little Folk to oversee the needs of Bree’s new inhabitants. Tension and an undercurrent of fear mixed with anger ran through the packed town, giving need for cooler heads to sort out arguments and dispense information that was known to be true.

Work on the hedge and dike with its ditch that ran before it had gone well and quickly. Rumors of a large body of wild ruffians from the north flew about the town in varying forms – the size of the men and their number increasing at each telling. Newcomers to Bree flocked to the worksites to lend their hands and skill. The Hedge and its gates were repaired up to the opening left in the northern edge, which Harald and Telien planned to use as a trap to lure at least part of the bandits in before netting them and taking them prisoner. Will and his crew along with the others that now swelled their ranks, Hobbit and Men alike had finished the dike and deepened the ditch before it, planting the sharpened staves in it, now hidden by a covering of leafy branches.

The Inn and all its storage spaces had been crammed with foodstuffs and some of the many little herds of livestock the farmers had brought with them. Andreth and her students, their numbers now also increased by the influx from the farmlands, had been very busy sorting and storing the goods for future use. Berilac had recruited a number of Hobbit archers for Harald’s ambush plan, as had Telien from among the Men.

All awaited word from Minastan concerning the plans of the bandits. An attack on the town would be soon, they knew – they hoped for an advantage by knowing when and how many might be mustered against them.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:51 PM December 09, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Arwen Baggins - Alvinac and Kari

Alvinac had cleaned the house; it was quite cozy. When he heard that families were coming in from outside of the wall, he decided to help. "Who's it gonna be Father?" Kari circled her father as he pulled a blanket up over the pillow on the cot tied in a corner.

He stopped and put his finger to his lips. "Karianne! I don't know who it is?" He shook his head and told her to go and set the table for dinner.

***

Just before dark, a knock was heard on the door. "Kari! It's them! Get the door!" Alvinac rushed the only brush in the household through his burly hair.

Kari rolled her eyes and opened the door. A family- both parents, two babies, and a teenage boy- stood with only their clothes and a meager amount of supplies. "Welcome! I'm Karianne, and my Father's over there," She lifted her plaid skirt in a curtsy and welcomed the family inside.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:40 PM December 11, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Chathol-linn]

Few creatures moved through the dying rains and the softening thunder. But Huan Vu the wolfhound paid no attention to the grumbling air and the pelting drops. He had found his master Minastan and now was on a mission. He headed for Bree at a dead run.

Harald was waiting at Dantha’s barn when the wolfhound arrived at his familiar kennel. Familiar no more! It was crowded, like every barn in town, with beasts brought in from the outlying farms.

I take your dim-witted meaning, read the unsigned note wrapped in the Mayor’s red kerchief. Huan Vu had suffered it to be tied around his neck again. Be assured the bandits shall not enter the village where you do not wish. I will see to it. And someone with sufficient wits in Bree should beware of the wave of bandits that will come soon. These will be soldiers and families ousted from their homes. They gathered at Weathertop while their scouts came to Bree and took our measure. Well do they know us, I wot, and well do they covet our goods and homes. ‘Tis time for you and Bree to stand true.

Harald took a deep breath. The Hobbits and Big Folk had repaired the Hedge, but for that one place left weak on purpose. The dike was deep enough. Sharp staves stuck up in ordered rows at strategic places, disguised by the leafy branches brought in by the outlying farmers.

Well did I say that downed tree branches would be a good crop this year, thought Harald.

The nets were done, woven and weighted with stones. The Hobbit archers had worked with Telien and marked their positions on high, above the gate. Their defenses were as finished as could be. Minastan’s note left no doubt as to what would happen next.

Harald gave Huan Vu a pat on the head. “Brave fellow,” he said, reclaiming his red kerchief. He left Dantha’s barn and went to the Town Hall, hoping to find Telien, Berilac, Andreth, and the other leaders of town. They needed to know about the wave of ruffians coming soon.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:29 PM December 09, 2003: Message edited by: Chathol-linn ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth and Cook:

With one final burst of energy, Andreth sprinted into the kitchen and set down a tray overflowing with dirty luncheon dishes and cutlery; she slumped into a chair and pressed her fingers against her temples in a futile effort to relieve her throbbing head. For the past two nights, she'd had no more than a few hours of sleep. The problems and workload the displaced Breelanders had created were almost more than she and her staff could bear.

The Inn was filled to capacity. She'd soon had to insist that families double up in rooms; hobbits and big folk alike were crammed together in tight quarters, forced to cooperate and figure out a way to share the limited space and beds allotted to them. At first there had been a grumble or two, especially on the part of the Men. But, as grim news poured in from the outskirts of town that the raids and looting were intensifying and spreading, the bickering quickly subsided and folk began to cooperate.

During the day, convoys of wagons regularly set out from the Pony, loaded with volunteers of every age and race, both male and female. There had even been one or two dwarf traders stranded in town who were terrified to go out and expose themselves and their goods to the possible assault of the thieves. They too had put up at the Inn.

It was essentially a race against time: to see if the Breelanders could harvest the crops and load them into wagons faster than the outlaws could carry out their raids, which were still happening on a nightly basis. For the most part, the Breelanders were winning. They had far greater numbers than the bandits, and could gather in the crops faster than Lotar was able to launch his assaults. Still, the outsiders managed to loot one or two farmsteads every night, carrying away wagonloads of crops and possessions.

The Inn had an abundance of grains and vegetables that had been tucked away in the storerooms and cellars. The children had dutifully stacked these provisions onto the shelves and made careful lists to keep track of everything. The supply of fresh meat was not quite so bountiful. Pigs, goats, cows, and chickens were tucked away in barns and fields and even grazing in people's gardens. But the farmers were reluctant to see them slaughtered. Goat's and cow's milk was at a premium, needed for the making of cheese, chickens were zealously guarded for their eggs and the sheep for the wool blankets they provided. That left only goats and pigs for possible consumption, but even these were protected by farmers who feared that they would not have enough of their herds left to start breeding the animals again once they'd returned to their cots. Hunting was always a possibility. Yet the threat of bandits was so close, few were eager to set off into the woods on their own.

Andreth had instructed Cook to leave meat off the menu. Folk would just have to be content with other things. But this went against every natural instinct that Cook possessed and she vowed to find a way to have just a wee bit for supper. Cook was actually quite clever in how she went about this. She persuaded Will Farroweed and his cohorts to help with promises of special goodies and managed to get them organized into an early morning hunting party venturing out into the Chetwood, before they even set out to do their other chores. A steady stream of squirrel, duck, fish, and coney was slipped through the back door of the Pony, without Edmund or even Andreth totally aware of what was going on. It wasn't like the old times, but there was usually enough to cook up a mess of stew or a hearty meat broth, much to the approval of the dinner guests at the Inn.

But this morning pickings had been thin, and the valiant hunters had returned with empty hands. Cook had slipped out to the small shed, her meat cleaver in hand, eying the family of three bunnies that Edmund had brought back over a week before. She had brandished the cleaver over their small heads and was about to bring it down with a flourish when Andreth suddenly turned up out of nowhere, fussing and fuming at her for this small deception. Reluctantly, she set down her weapon and watched Andreth depart. She shook her head in open disapproval and muttered to herself, "Mistress, you're a good lady, but too soft hearted. Folks have to eat. Not all of us were meant for vegetables and such, which you seem to favor. Many of us need something a bit more filling, especially in trying times like these."

Cook turned back to the conies and lifted the smallest one up by the scruff of the neck, brandishing the cleaver about a inch in front of the rabbit's nose. "Well, Mr. Patches, you'll live for one more day. But, if I have my way, you'll see an end in the stew pot soon enough. There's too many hungry folks out there to worry about whether we have one or two less rabbits." She trounced back inside and immediately took out the flour and cheese with thoughts of concocting a mess of rarebit.

Outside the Pony, hiding in the shed that sat right beside the small animal pen and hutches, a small boy sat in misery, wondering what he could do to save his friends from Cook's certain wrath. There was no doubt in Edmund's heart. He'd had plenty of experience with Cook's stern punishments. If Cook said she meant to cleave his dear bunnies into a dozen pieces, then that was surely what she intended to do.

The question was: what could he and his other friends do to stop her?

[Chathol-linn]

Minastan with the Bandits

Huan Vu was a dappled dark dog. He vanished into the night quicker than his own shadow. Minastan watched him go, thankful that he had learned his letters long ago.

I take your dimwitted meaning, he had written, responding to the Mayor’s code. Now it was time to deliver. Guthwine and Lotar looked upon him with favor but between themselves, there was mistrust.

Here was a coil. Minastan could not risk angering either of them and he did not know which one was better to approach.

They are talking together now, he thought. I will address them both and let them sort it out.

“Well has Gareth been rewarded for his trouble,” said the Ranger aloud, looking from Lotar to Guthwine. “He has kept a good portion from his raid on the farm. Now I can give you a bigger prize, the town itself, and what will be my reward?”

Minastan waited while Guthwine looked him over. No doubt I seem a goodly thief to him! It takes a thief to con one, he thought.

Guthwine leaned close. Minastan disguised his triumph and whispered: “The town hedge is weak at the north! I can lead you into Bree right under their noses. You can have all that you want, and all those at the Weather Hills too. I’ll be wanting as much plunder as I can haul, for they will kill me if I stay, and I need your leave to depart without hindrance.”

Guthwine said, “For my part you have it. I never trusted a traitor in my midst. See that you lead us well or I will kill you myself.”

Minastan thought, I would welcome the contest, bandit. But he smiled as if satisfied. The bandit and the disguised Ranger talked long about getting organized for the attack on Bree.

&lt;font size=1 color=339966&gt;[ 7:00 PM December 16, 2003: Message edited by: Chathol-linn ]&lt;/font&gt;

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:10 PM December 16, 2003: Message edited by: Chathol-linn ]

[Chathol-linn]

Willofain Spies on Minastan

When Mayor Harald sent Huan Vu forth into the woods, a secret pair of eyes watched him go: Willofain’s.

What a game Mayor Harald plays, she thought. Spies! I should like to be a spy. I will spy on Minastan’s wolfhound and see where he goes.

The girl had no difficulty following Huan Vu through the evening dusk. It was almost as if the wolfhound was outlined with shimmering light, so easily did she find the trail. And she was fast and tireless. After a while she was watching the outskirts of the outlaw camp, where Ranger Minastan fumbled at Huan Vu’s red kerchief, read a note, and wrote one.

Willofain saw all this; saw Huan Vu start for the Bree road again. She heard footsteps and she crouched under a thicket lest someone find her.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Narrative - Guthwine

Guthwine sat perched on a log close to the campfire, pouring over a map of Bree that had been salvaged from last night's raid. His men had accomplished a great deal over the past seven days. He had been careful to stay out of Lotar's way as much as possible, focusing instead on preparing the camp to accomodate the hundreds of families now migrating down from the Weather Hills. Guthwine had somehow managed to keep a tight rein on the recruits to stave off further troubles. Although there were still occasional fistfights and grumblings, things had generally settled down.

Just yesterday, Edgar had returned to Chetwood with his wagon empty, spilling out his story as to how the provisions had been gratefully received and the details of what was going on in the main encampment. As soon as he and Tomba had arrived there, their fully laden wagons had been greeted with enthusiastic cheers, as hungry men and women crowded close, eagerly reaching out to make sure their families received a fair share of food.

The two men had distributed the supplies to those in greatest need and then appeared before the council with Guthwine's letter in hand. After reviewing the message, the elders had agreed to adopt the strategy and timetable Guthwine had proposed and immediately ordered the families to begin collecting their belongings so that they could break camp in just three days. If all had progressed according to plan, the larger band had left yesterday morning, setting a course northward along the base of the Weather Hills. This group was expected to arrive in Breeland within a space of only three to four days so there was not a minute to lose.

Still, there was one point that still bothered Guthwine. He felt they knew very little about the city, the state of its defenses or the layout of its streets. And it was simply impossible to plot a battle strategy unless he had at least a modicum of such detail. He'd tried pumping Minastan for information but that had yielded surprisingly few results. And, once or twice, Guthwine could have sworn that Minastan had actually contradicted himself in the descriptions of the town that he had offered.

Telling himself that there had to be a better way to gleen needed information, Guthwine stared down at the map. The one helpful point that Minastan had volunteered was that there was a clear break in the hedge to the north of the town. It was hard to believe these citydwellers were such fools as to leave their flank unguarded. But, having lived through the nightmare of the Orc attack in the Misty Mountains, he did not doubt that foolhardy men could bury their heads and refuse to act on an obvious problems.

Still, that gap in the hedge posed an interesting opportunity, not just for the battle itself but also for these days of preparation. What better way to get an idea of Bree's defenses than for him to pay a little visit to the town? No one had seen his face in these parts, and he was unlikely to be detected. He thought about mentioning his scheme to Lotar but decided against it.... There's no use getting his back up again!

Guthwine had done such spying within enemy encampments on one other occasion, and he felt confident that they would be able to get the information he needed and successfully return. But there was still one answered question. Exactly who should come along with him on this little venture?....

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:37 PM December 11, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Esgallhugwen's post: Poppy

'Come in come in, please we have your room all ready and cleaned Mister and Misses Gardener' Poppy took hold of their luggage and gave them a tour of the hole 'It might take some getting use to, you living in a house and not a hole but it's comfy and cozy all the same' she smiled and showed them their room.

Bell and Gorbadoc thanked Poppy and Gaffer Goldworthy graciously unable to find proper words to pay homage to their kindness. Poppy blushed and laughed, 'Oh come now, no need to thank us, we're just doing our part is all' the Gaffer said pouring some tea inviting them to sit down for a wee bit and try to relax.

It was akward trying to have a half decent conversation. The Gardener's had been raided the night before and they were one of the very last families to have come to Bree for sanctuary. None the less they tried to lighten the mood and Lily thought it would help if she showed them a little dance she had been practicing with some of the children at school.

She spun about the room her pink dress twirling about her, she looked like a delicate gold and pink flower taking in the warmth of the sun on a cool spring day. Little Lily skipped and hopped from side to side and she ended with a curtsy, they clapped, applauding her performance.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:05 PM December 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]