The Yule Log RPG

[Nerindel]

As Maranwe climbed the stairs to her room, she pondered thoughtfully Wenda’s mysterious words, guessing at what she could have meant by them. But by the time she reached the door to her room she had given up, thinking that perhaps some things where best left a mystery. Pushing open the door and not taking the time to look around, she strode straight over to the cot at the far end of the room, dumped her pack on the straw filled mattress and pulled out a pair of dark brown pants and a heavy rustic brown tunic.

She pulled off the festive gown which the young lad Birger had quiet astutely realised may not be suitable for both the weather out and the task at hand, though he had been a little abashed in saying so. She laughed lightly recalling the lads deep crimson cheeks as she pulled off the under skirts, recalling also with an ounce sympathy his eagerness to remove himself and get the things they would require.

So as not to keep him waiting long in the cold she quickly pulled on her tunic, pants and boots, lacing them up carefully so as not to dislodge the dragon bone daggers concealed in each one. Strapping on her belt she tuck a small wood axe and a hunters knife into it, then grabbing up a well weathered dark grey cloak she hurried out of the room and bounded down the stairs, eager to again breath in the refreshing chill winters air.

Birger was waiting as he said he would by the gate at the far side of the courtyard, he waved to her as she stepped out of the green man, she smiled and waved back stopping momentarily as she caught sight of the small gathering of birds and beast’s huddled by a small fire for warmth as the old woman had said they would be. ’but she said nothing of the two gentlemen keeping them company’ she mused, smiling and nodding politely in the direction of the small gathering as she moved on.

“Well It look’s like we’re all set!” she smiled looking over the small hand cart, “Shall we?” she continued opening the gate to allow Birger to led the way.

“my name is Maranwe, But you may call me Mara if it’s easier,” she added as she closed the gate behind them.

[Folwren]

Berrick paused in answering the Dwarf's offer as he listened to the story told of the dark forest bearing the name Mirkwood. When the strange tale was told, he couldn’t say that he felt particularly fond of the idea of passing through there. But then, he never really had intended to. He turned towards Egil Glitterfist.

‘I really do not know in which direction I am going,’ he said. ‘I took to traveling half a year ago, and since have traveled far towards the East and Northward, and so end here, having starting from the Southern part of Gondor. I would be happy for you company, and will travel in which ever direction you choose. I had intended taking a westward route from here and going above the said Mirkwood and then heading south again, towards the mountains. However, should you wish to go directly south from here, I’ll make no complaint. I’ve traveled too long on my own and am quite willing to have a companion.’

He smiled and thrust his feet out under the table and leaned back against the wall. ‘Stars and stirrups, though,’ he added, somewhat sleepily, ‘it is nice to be within four thick walls and away from all that snow and wind.’

[Huan]

‘Yes, m’am. Mistress Mara . . . m’am.’ Birger hauled the handcart through the gate and walked slowly while Mara latched the gate and caught up to him. ‘The holly grove’s about a half league from here.’ His chin jutted toward the patch of forest to the northeast of The Green Man. ‘Won’t take us too long to get there. Old Goody be wanting some rowan wood, too. Now that’s a bit farther on.’

He looked at the position of the weak sun and narrowed his eyes as he looked toward the forest that hemmed in the long thrusting foothills a ways away. ‘See those firs just edging up the hills? The yew grow just in front of them. Special trees, the yews are. They stand between life and death, so I heard tell; hold back evil, my gran used to say.’

Birger picked up his pace, knowing that Mara could easily keep up with him. ‘Best we get the yew first – it’s tough wood, you know. Take the longest to saw. We’ll work our way back from there.’

The two trudged along in silence for a while before Birger got up the courage to speak again. ‘The man back there at the Green Man,’ he began. ‘He said you were trained by Elves.’ Now Birger had heard about Elves from other travelers to the Inn, and he wished mightily to meet one. And if he couldn’t meet one, he wanted to know as much about them as he could. ‘What were they like, m’am . . . those Elves?’

[Rose]

White Paw follows after Mara and Birger

The old wolf-hound lay down once again on his pile of rags, his patchy-haired belly turned toward the warmth of the glowing embers. He was just about to doze off when a cold wet nose snuffled him on his ear, followed by a few quick grooming licks. He growled deep in his throat, then raised himself, taking a long sniff at the intruder.

‘White Paw! Leave me be, won’t you, pup. I’ve just gotten comfortable.’

White Paw was two years old, full grown. A big hound, larger than his sire had ever been. There was wolf in his background, though many sires back. His mother had been part wolf, also, and he seemed to have inherited those wolfish looks from them untempered by the hunting hound that had frolicked somewhere back in the family line. He was a great beast of a dog, wolf to the core in abilities and looks . . . but not in temperament. He had a sweet disposition and was especially fond of the boy, Birger, who played with him as often as he could and brought him special treats.

‘I just wanted to let you know, pops,’ White Paw said, wagging his tail as he yapped at his father. ‘That the boy’s gone off with the cart and saw. To the woods. I’m going after him. Might need me I was thinking. There’s been some strange howling from the trees.’

The dog moved like a swift, dark shadow over the crusted snow. He made his way to the top of the wall and flew off in the direction that the woman and Birger had taken. His stride ate up the distance and soon he was close behind them. He yelped and barked as he drew near, announcing his presence on the adventure.

[Envinyatar]

Stamo’s eyes flashed with amusement at the preening cat’s story. ‘Well, well, I never heard that version . . . back home. But then, there are no cats there to tell it, as I can recall.’

‘More’s the pity,’ rumbled one of Tevildo’s companions, smiling in that particularly impish feline way. ‘Upgrade the place if you did have.” The three cats shared a laugh, though it sounded more like some smoke from the embers had gotten up their noses, making them sneeze and snort.

‘I think it best we leave before we do something foolish . . . and take up the gauntlet . . .’ Mori paused for a moment as the snorts and sneezes ran their course. ‘Or perhaps, before we take up the hairball . . . and try to put the felines in their proper place.’ He watched the cats as they worked themselves over with their long pink tongues. ‘If only Aiwendil were here – perhaps he would be more patient with their haughty attitudes.’

Mori turned to where the white owl was perched. ‘I think we two-leggeds will return to the common room for now. Sit near the fire, sip something warm.’ He gave a small bow to those gathered in the little courtyard. ‘We’ll have some foods sent out from the kitchen for you. And perhaps later, when the chill has left our limbs, we’ll come back to share another story with you.’