The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - Werewolf XLIV: In the House of Tom Bombadil

Aganzir · 02-24-2008, 12:59 PM

The summer of 2911 waned to autumn and then arrived winter. First snows appeared at the end of October. It was perfectly normal – until the Hobbits and other Northeners noticed that the snow didn't show any signs of melting, nor was the cold breaking. Earth was covered by a thick, white blanket that gained height daily. The sun had seemingly deserted the North. In December, food was already getting scarce. And then came the wolves.

**

Late one night, in the middle of December, a miserable figure scratched the door of a little house that was nestled under the shoulder of hills, at the edge of a forest. By the time the door was opened, a new layer of snow had almost covered its tracks. The creature was skinny and shivering, its white fur dull and heavy with frozen snow. It cowered from the light that came from the inside.

”Oh, look at her!” cried the woman at the door. ”She's sick and hungry. We can't leave her out there; she will freeze to death in no more than one night!”

The creature turned to look at the woman with a strange, almost triumphant expression in her feverish, gherkin-coloured eyes - as if she had understood every single word. Slowly, she pattered over the wide stone threshold, and a golden light was all about her.

**

After being banished by their villages and neighbours, some poor beggars had gathered together, eventually broken into the mounds and formed their own little community on the Barrow-downs. They weren't treated any more kindly by the winter than some others more fortunate. When everything burnable was burnt and everything edible, except for a certain duck, eaten, the unofficial leader of the outcasts, Nogrod the Agreeable, summoned a meeting in the Great Barrow.

”We can't keep going on like this”, he said. ”We must admit the inevitable: we're going to die if we don't get more food soon.”

”Aye,” observed Rikae the Kind, ”I get stomachaches from the food offerings left to the king with whom we share a barrow.”

”Don't you say I haven't told you to keep away from them! It's your own fault if you don't heed my words!” Durelin cried at her.

”And the Yule is only a few days away...” sighed McCaber sadly.

”Is there any way we could please the Powers of the West?” asked Mithalwen the Perpetually Sane and Serene.

”Like the people in the old tales!” continued satansaloser2005, knocking her stick on the floor. ”You know, the first year they sacrificed oxen, the second year men... And when they sacrificed the king in the third year, the crops returned...” She eyed Nogrod ponderingly.

”I've always found you more ox-looking than some people here,” Nerwen joined the discussion.

”Back to the business,” interrupted Boromir88 the Silent One. ”I say we don't go begging to Bree if we just can avoid it.”

”Because they would catch you and put you in jail for pickpocketing, eh?”

”That was not too kind of you, Rikae!” Mithalwen rebuked her.

”I suppose I'd get more food in prison than here anyway. Don't start quarrelling now.”

”Yes, I agree with you, Boro - we can't go there. They would just turn us out again...”

”Now, you're optimistic, A Little Green. They don't have any more food than we do but they don't want to eat their own relatives and neighbours,” THE Ka observed dryly.

”Daddy...” Meneltarmacil plucked at Boro's sleeve.

”What about asking that merry fellow down the hill if he could put us up for the Yule?” Mithalwen aired the thought that had probably crossed everyone's mind.

”Are you nuts, dear?” asked Nerwen, ”there's no trusting a person like that. I, for one, am not going to let my little one have any dealings with him!”

”Are you rather going to let your little one starve, then?” snapped Volo and put his hand protectively on McCaber's shoulder.

”Daddy!” Macalaure the Guileless plucked at Boro's sleeve.”

”You never know what mushrooms that grandpa will feed to your children!”

”But Mummy, mushrooms are good, aren't they?” Gwathagor looked confused.

”Daddy! There's a big dog at the door!”

**

The wolf has already been there for a while, observing the beggars and their argument. Now she starts walking towards them, her motions controlled yet graceful. She looks well-fed and well-pleased, her white fur is thick and shiny, her eyes gleam with amusement. And although she could be considered an easy prey by the starving, no one raises their hand against her. She walks to the middle of the ring, stretches and lies down. Then she opens her mouth, and her voice is like honey.

”What an awful weather, don't you think? I'm sure it must be rather horrible here in these cold and damp barrows...” She smiles at the nodding beggars. ”That's what we thought with my master also. Now, we got this idea of inviting you to be guests in his house, to feast and celebrate the Yule. Nice to see that the same idea has seemingly occurred to some of you as well,” she says, smiling at Mithalwen and Nerwen, and lets her gaze wander over the beggars, who eye one another reservedly, not knowing what to say.

Finally, Thinlómien decides for everybody.

”We accept your offer gratefully,” she says. Nerwen looks at her as if she wished to object, but doesn't say a word.

The wolf smiles again. ”You're welcome to come, then. Tomorrow, shall we say?” She gets up and is about to jump out, but a small voice stops her.

”What's your name? I have never seen a talking animal before.” The expression on McCaber's face is genuinely curious.

The wolf turns to look at the child. ”Oh, did I forget to introduce myself? So sorry. You can call me Death.”

**

That night some barrow-wights got caught by wolves. A blizzard hid the inhuman noises, but the beggars slept shivering, and every once in a while someone stirred for a moment to listen to the howling of the wind before dozing off again.

Behind the clouds, the Moon travelled its way through the sky. It was already sinking when three hideously deformed shadows returned to the barrows they had used to haunt. They picked themselves new bodies to inhabit.

**

In the mid-day, the beggars set off for the little house at the edge of the forest. They had taken with them the little property they had, and all were in a gay mood. Even the old Barrow-Wight was asked to join the merrymaking.

**

The players
Nogrod the Agreeable, the leader of the beggars
his wife, Nerwen
Gwathagor, their child
elderly couple; Rikae the Kind
and Durelin
Boromir88 the Silent One, an ex-pickpocket
his wife, Mithalwen the Perpetually Sane and Serene
their children Macalaure the Guileless
and Meneltarmacil
satansaloser2005, a slightly mad crippled woman
Volo, a young widowed man
his child, the Right Honourable McCaber
THE Ka, a blind old woman
orphaned little Thinlómien
and her little sister A Little Green

It is now Night 1. The wolves may PM. No posting here yet.

02-24-2008, 12:59 PM	#1
Aganzir Woman of Secret Shadow Join Date: Oct 2006 Location: in hollow halls beneath the fells Posts: 4,511	Werewolf XLIV: In the House of Tom Bombadil The summer of 2911 waned to autumn and then arrived winter. First snows appeared at the end of October. It was perfectly normal – until the Hobbits and other Northeners noticed that the snow didn't show any signs of melting, nor was the cold breaking. Earth was covered by a thick, white blanket that gained height daily. The sun had seemingly deserted the North. In December, food was already getting scarce. And then came the wolves. Late one night, in the middle of December, a miserable figure scratched the door of a little house that was nestled under the shoulder of hills, at the edge of a forest. By the time the door was opened, a new layer of snow had almost covered its tracks. The creature was skinny and shivering, its white fur dull and heavy with frozen snow. It cowered from the light that came from the inside. ”Oh, look at her!” cried the woman at the door. ”She's sick and hungry. We can't leave her out there; she will freeze to death in no more than one night!” The creature turned to look at the woman with a strange, almost triumphant expression in her feverish, gherkin-coloured eyes - as if she had understood every single word. Slowly, she pattered over the wide stone threshold, and a golden light was all about her. After being banished by their villages and neighbours, some poor beggars had gathered together, eventually broken into the mounds and formed their own little community on the Barrow-downs. They weren't treated any more kindly by the winter than some others more fortunate. When everything burnable was burnt and everything edible, except for a certain duck, eaten, the unofficial leader of the outcasts, Nogrod the Agreeable, summoned a meeting in the Great Barrow. ”We can't keep going on like this”, he said. ”We must admit the inevitable: we're going to die if we don't get more food soon.” ”Aye,” observed Rikae the Kind, ”I get stomachaches from the food offerings left to the king with whom we share a barrow.” ”Don't you say I haven't told you to keep away from them! It's your own fault if you don't heed my words!” Durelin cried at her. ”And the Yule is only a few days away...” sighed McCaber sadly. ”Is there any way we could please the Powers of the West?” asked Mithalwen the Perpetually Sane and Serene. ”Like the people in the old tales!” continued satansaloser2005, knocking her stick on the floor. ”You know, the first year they sacrificed oxen, the second year men... And when they sacrificed the king in the third year, the crops returned...” She eyed Nogrod ponderingly. ”I've always found you more ox-looking than some people here,” Nerwen joined the discussion. ”Back to the business,” interrupted Boromir88 the Silent One. ”I say we don't go begging to Bree if we just can avoid it.” ”Because they would catch you and put you in jail for pickpocketing, eh?” ”That was not too kind of you, Rikae!” Mithalwen rebuked her. ”I suppose I'd get more food in prison than here anyway. Don't start quarrelling now.” ”Yes, I agree with you, Boro - we can't go there. They would just turn us out again...” ”Now, you're optimistic, A Little Green. They don't have any more food than we do but they don't want to eat their own relatives and neighbours,” THE Ka observed dryly. ”Daddy...” Meneltarmacil plucked at Boro's sleeve. ”What about asking that merry fellow down the hill if he could put us up for the Yule?” Mithalwen aired the thought that had probably crossed everyone's mind. ”Are you nuts, dear?” asked Nerwen, ”there's no trusting a person like that. I, for one, am not going to let my little one have any dealings with him!” ”Are you rather going to let your little one starve, then?” snapped Volo and put his hand protectively on McCaber's shoulder. ”Daddy!” Macalaure the Guileless plucked at Boro's sleeve.” ”You never know what mushrooms that grandpa will feed to your children!” ”But Mummy, mushrooms are good, aren't they?” Gwathagor looked confused. ”Daddy! There's a big dog at the door!” The wolf has already been there for a while, observing the beggars and their argument. Now she starts walking towards them, her motions controlled yet graceful. She looks well-fed and well-pleased, her white fur is thick and shiny, her eyes gleam with amusement. And although she could be considered an easy prey by the starving, no one raises their hand against her. She walks to the middle of the ring, stretches and lies down. Then she opens her mouth, and her voice is like honey. ”What an awful weather, don't you think? I'm sure it must be rather horrible here in these cold and damp barrows...” She smiles at the nodding beggars. ”That's what we thought with my master also. Now, we got this idea of inviting you to be guests in his house, to feast and celebrate the Yule. Nice to see that the same idea has seemingly occurred to some of you as well,” she says, smiling at Mithalwen and Nerwen, and lets her gaze wander over the beggars, who eye one another reservedly, not knowing what to say. Finally, Thinlómien decides for everybody. ”We accept your offer gratefully,” she says. Nerwen looks at her as if she wished to object, but doesn't say a word. The wolf smiles again. ”You're welcome to come, then. Tomorrow, shall we say?” She gets up and is about to jump out, but a small voice stops her. ”What's your name? I have never seen a talking animal before.” The expression on McCaber's face is genuinely curious. The wolf turns to look at the child. ”Oh, did I forget to introduce myself? So sorry. You can call me Death.” That night some barrow-wights got caught by wolves. A blizzard hid the inhuman noises, but the beggars slept shivering, and every once in a while someone stirred for a moment to listen to the howling of the wind before dozing off again. Behind the clouds, the Moon travelled its way through the sky. It was already sinking when three hideously deformed shadows returned to the barrows they had used to haunt. They picked themselves new bodies to inhabit. In the mid-day, the beggars set off for the little house at the edge of the forest. They had taken with them the little property they had, and all were in a gay mood. Even the old Barrow-Wight was asked to join the merrymaking. The players Nogrod the Agreeable, the leader of the beggars his wife, Nerwen Gwathagor, their child elderly couple; Rikae the Kind and Durelin Boromir88 the Silent One, an ex-pickpocket his wife, Mithalwen the Perpetually Sane and Serene their children Macalaure the Guileless and Meneltarmacil satansaloser2005, a slightly mad crippled woman Volo, a young widowed man his child, the Right Honourable McCaber THE Ka, a blind old woman orphaned little Thinlómien and her little sister A Little Green It is now Night 1. The wolves may PM. No posting here yet. __________________ He bit me, and I was not gentle. Last edited by Aganzir; 02-24-2008 at 01:02 PM.