Quest for the Ainereg RPG

[piosenniel]

Orual's Post

The sun was glowing, there was not a cloud in the sky, and the waves of wheat were blowing gently in the wind. Anson Hornblower was standing just outside of his hole, holding his three-year-old son, Rudigar. It was dawn, and the new day greeted the world by painting the sky with broad strokes of orange, and rose, and purple. "Lovely, isn't it, Rudy?" Anson murmured, his own face glowing with pride as he looked out onto the farm that he had built with his own two hands.

He had barely come of age before he left his parents' house--by thirty-four, he had begun to start his farm. It had been difficult at first, but he had struggled through it and the tears, sweat, and blood had paid off, and his beautiful farm was the proof of it. It was his pride and joy, and his life. He had been blessed enough to marry a wife who was as passionate about life on a farm as he was--his lovely Asphodel, his darling Della. She never complained about how much he had to work, never fretted when times got hard. She was the calm in his life.

"Morning, Dad!" Violet stepped out into the yard, the sunshine dancing on her glossy raven curls. She still had on her night gown, but they were secluded enough that it didn't matter--nobody would see her in it who hadn't seen her in it the night before. "Lovely morning, isn't it? What a wonderful sunrise! I haven't seen one like it in ages."

"You haven't seen one at all in a while, sleepyhead," Anson teased. Violet glared good-naturedly at him and tickled Rudy under the chin. The boy squealed with laughter and grabbed his sister's hand. "Vio, would you like to hold Rudy while I go out to take a look around?"

"Sure, can I come with you?" Violet asked as she took Rudy

"Would you like to slip a day dress on first?" Anson laughed. Violet grinned, handed Rudy back to her father and ran inside, coming out soon after in a white muslin dress, with an overdress of her trademark light purple. Her hair was tied in two long pigtails.

"Ready now, I'll take Rudy back," she said, and held her arms out for her brother. He practically leapt into them, and they started off.

The lovely sunrise was fading as the day wore on, and a strange feeling was disturbing Anson. It began with a He frowned, and quickened his pace slightly.

"Is there a problem, Dad?" Violet asked, jogging to keep up with her father's longer strides. "Is something wrong?"

With an effort, Anson slowed back down. "No, it's nothing, Vio," he assured her, though he was not convinced that he was telling his daughter the truth. They walked past the rows of crops and could see in the distance a pasture of sheep grazing, when suddenly Violet stopped short and pinched her nose.

"Whew, Dad! What an awful smell! What on earth is it?" Violet exclaimed, waving a hand dramatically before her face. Rudy mimicked his sister.

"I don't know," Anson said softly, walking on. His walk turned into a jog, then a run. "Stay here with Rudy!" he called to Violet, who had begun to follow him. She stopped, her lovely face a picture of worry. "I'll be back soon," he added as he turned towards the source of the odor.

"No," he whispered as he saw what it was. Three sheep, dead. Not a sign of an attack, either. The place where they were lying was out of sight, but fairly close to the pastures. They had not been killed by wandering animals, that was for sure, and they had not been old. This was surely some disease, and something bad, to have killed them so suddenly--they had been alive the night before. Had they been sick earlier? Well, he had seen some signs of listlessness, but he had just passed that off on the poor crops that year, everyone was hungry, and that meant the animals too. He inspected the dead animals close up, and saw on their necks what looked like sores. It was a disease. Something quick and deadly. But where was it coming from?

"Daddy, I'm sorry, Rudy got away," Anson heard Violet cry as she came up behind him. Rudy threw himself onto his father's back, but backed up when Anson did not respond. Violet picked him up. "Daddy?"

Anson looked slowly over his shoulder at his daughter. "Get back in the house, Vio. Something's very wrong--something's killed these three sheep, alive just last night at that. Tell your mother. None of you come out here!"

With a frightened look on her face, Violet nodded and went back up to the house.

Anson buried his face in his hands. What a time for this to happen. Already the year had been slim for many of the farmers in the Shire, and he had heard tell that it wasn't going well for the Men who lived in the lands close by, nor even for the Elves in Rivendell. And now to have this strike...well, he didn't know about others, but he didn't know if he could make it through the season with a disease making his crops inedible and killing off his animals. He just didn't know if he could do it.

"Anson, Violet told me what happened." Della's soft voice came from behind Anson, and immediately he relaxed a little. It was irrational, to be sure, but he felt better knowing that Della was there. "Does it look bad?"

Anson nodded and stood, taking Della by the hand. "It looks very bad. These sheep were alive last night, and fairly healthy--listless, but nothing else that I noticed. That was last night, and now they're dead with sores down their throats. This could ruin us, Della."

Della squeezed his hand. "And it might not. We'll work as hard as we can and hope for the best. You ought to talk to some of the other farmers who live around, and see if they've found any dead livestock at their own farms. I'll hold down the fort here--you go off into town. I'm sure that that's where everyone else will go if something's wrong."

"Why do you think that?" Anson asked, frowning.

"Because their wives will tell them to!" Della laughed, and threw her arms around Anson's neck and began to cry softly. "Oh, Anson, things were looking bad already and it's this much worse now, but we'll make it. You go and save the farm, I'll stay here and try to run what's left of it."

That afternoon, Anson went into the market in the center of town. "Your attention!" he cried, and everyone turned. The whole town knew Anson, many of them since he was a small child; and all of them knew him well enough to realize that for him to call for attention was an extraordinarily rare event and was worthy of quiet. Quiet there was.

Anson swallowed, but steeled himself and began to speak loudly enough for the gathered hobbits to hear him. "I have some urgent news that must be discussed. If you would all please drop what you are doing if it is not too important, and meet with me at the town hall, I would appreciate it. This cannot wait."

It had been a slow, warm, cheerful day, and none of the business at the market was terribly vital, so everyone, including the vendors, followed Anson to the town hall. He quickly explained to the official who was in charge of meetings in the hall his purpose, and was granted permission to use the hall--and everyone who had been in the hall on business went into hear Anson Hornblower speak in public.

"My dear friends, neighbours, and family, I ask for your full attention as I speak of a matter that affects us all," Anson said with surprising eloquence. Nobody had expected this, and they all leaned in a little closer. Anson rose grandly to the occasion. "As you are all aware, this year has not been good for the farmers of the Shire. There has been little rain and much sun. As pleasant as it is for our children to be able to play in lovely weather, it would be more pleasant still for them to have fuller bellies than they have been able to have lately." There were many nods from the congregation, and a few murmurs of assent. "This day I found three sheep dead in my fields, from not an attack, nor old age, but from a disease. I don't know how this came about or what it is that is carrying this disease, but I know that this will do nothing but make the season worse."

"It is not only the Shire being affected." All heads turned to the back of the room, where a stranger--a Man--was standing by the wall. A few puzzled expressions and more than a few frowns came upon the faces of the hobbits in the hall when they recognized him to be a Ranger. "Word from Rivendell has it that many of the lands all the way from here to there have been stricken by this disease. It is hosted in the plants, and is most concentrated in the grasses, which is why the livestock are dying. People there are suffering, just as you are. An emergency meeting has been called at the Prancing Pony, and I was sent to alert all of you. Will you come?"

There was a long silence, but Anson was nodding. "Our friend has set before us an option that we need to look into, my friends. Shall we go?" He looked around the room, and waited for an answer.

[ March 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]