The Yule Log RPG

[Nerindel]

Mara replies to Stamo!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[piosenniel]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Child of the 7th Age]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Arry]

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

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

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

[Undómë]

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

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

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

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

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

[piosenniel]

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

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

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

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

[Envinyatar]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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