[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 ]