A tangled skein - adventures in western Middle-earth using the LOTR5e system

Gwinion introduces the Lady Gilraen as a woman he has know his entire life to whom he has often turned to for counsel. To date she has not steered him wrong.

Lady Gilraen acknowledges Gwinion’s introduction of Aethelbrim, Orin and Hildebrand with a slight nod of her head saying “I’ve known Gwinion all his life from when he was not much taller than Mr Took here. In fact he grew up with my son. You could not ask for a better guide for your expedition into the north!” She turns to Aethelbrim saying “you have obviously crossed the Misty Mountains for a purpose. Would you share it with me, I may be able to assist?” She then turns to Orin saying “I had the pleasure of meeting your king not long after he reestablished his halls in Azsalul’abad. Tell me is still serving that strange dish where they stuff meat, grains and herbs into a sheep’s stomach. I can’t say it was to my taste but he seemed to like it!”

Aethelbrim:

”Of course, Lady Gilraen,” replies the young captain.  Handing over the map, she repeats the story succinctly, trying to recall anything pertinent she may have missed before.

Eryndis follows the others inside and closes the door carefully behind them. She lingers at the back, head lowered, her fingers once again finding her dark braid.

She listens closely, seeking what she may learn before setting out with these new companions. A leech must tend more than flesh. The hurts of the heart run deep, and the body often follows where the heart has gone. At times, it falls to the leech to quiet the thoughts within, if the body is to mend.

As Aethelbrim speaks again of her mentor — of his passing, and of the wish he left behind — Eryndis is better able to follow her words. She imagines Thu-Gun in his place, and the thought settles heavy in her chest.

It would break her — and Sûl-gan with her.

Hildebrand follows a step behind the others, quieter now than he has been all morning. The closer they come to Lady Gilraen’s door, the more his usual easy charm settles into something more measured—more deliberate. When they are admitted, he does not speak at once. Instead, he steps forward just enough to be seen, and with practiced ease places one hand lightly over his chest while the other falls at his side. He bows—not overly deep, not theatrical, but with a natural grace that speaks of long familiarity with courtesy rather than recent imitation.

“My lady.” he says simply. Nothing more. He straightens, meeting her gaze only briefly before lowering it again—not out of discomfort, but respect. There is no trace of the performer in him now, no flourish, no attempt to impress. Only a quiet acknowledgment of her presence and stature. For a moment, he is very still. Comfortable. At ease in a way that might seem surprising, given his earlier energy. Then, without drawing attention, he steps slightly back—allowing Aethelbrim and the others the space to speak, as though he has always known precisely when to take the stage, and when to leave it.

The Lady Gilraen listens to Aethelbrim’s tale without interrupting. When Aethelbrim finishes she says “Angrenost-en-Forod was a fortified town on the old kingdom of Arnor and then Arthedain after Arnor split into the successor kingdoms of Arthedain, Cardolan and Rhudaur. It was besieged, and destroyed, by the forces of the Witch-king of Angmar in his first great  invasion of Arthedain more than 1500 years ago.” In fact it was the defence of Angrenost-en-Forod by its Lord and Lady which slowed down the forces of Angmar such that the army of Arthedain and its allies could be mustered; resulting in Arthedain's survival unlike its sister kingdom of Cardolan!" 

She then pauses before going on “I have not heard of a warrior called Seedeene but I do recall when I was a young maiden the story of Tolger and his sword brother Thindren. After he recovered Thindren left us and was never seen again. We always wondered what had happened to him? Seedeene is a Westron translation of Thindren which means grey-clad. It is possible that they are one and the same?”

Hildebrand remains quiet, and he tries to consult his memory to see if either Mr. Bilbo Baggins or one of the tomes in his library may have mention the events described by Lady Gilraen. (Game Log Old Lore:16)

Orin remained quiet as ever even as the course of things led the group to another chamber. But he'd nod wherever it seemed appropriate, and listened quite intently to the exchanges. Or tried to, in the case of the latter, yet occasionally one could glimpse a furrowing of brows as the dwarf strained to recall any specifics about mentioned locations that hadn't been brought up over the past two days.

One such nugget of distraction even resurfaced as all are introduced to Lady Gilraen. So, when she 'suddenly' began speaking of meeting kings and of sheep's stomach, the dwarf is visibly taken aback for a moment, and then a touched flustered when finally confirming her suspicion about the dish. A dish Orin secretly favored, and at times found himself thinking on wistfully whenever a sheep happened to come into view.

Afterwards, he breathes a quiet sigh of relief when attention shifts to more important matters, though not without wondering at Lady Gilraen's past connections with his people. "... Begging your pardon, but, uhm... I take it then that Thindren made no mention of where he was even to head off to or hinted at a reason why then?" He asks Lady Gilraen.

Aethelbrim:

A myriad of emotions flow through Aethelbrim as she hears the Lady’s response.  Starting with curiosity, then understanding as she learns of the lord and lady who sacrificed so much, a shadow of sadness overcomes her as she wonders how the lady who sacrificed herself may not be at rest.

All of it is shattered by the shock of learning her mentor and teacher, Seedeene, might have been this Thindren, relative to this great lady and the Ranger Gwinion.  Thinking of his traditionally gray clothing, Aethelbrim begins to slowly nod yes even as Orin steps forward and asks his question.

Hildebrand - Post #107
Hildebrand does not recall reading anything in any of the tomes in his library. He then does the quick calculations in his head and realises that the Lady Gilraen is talking about a period at least a couple of hundred years before The Shire was established. Not surprising that his tomes do not mention it. He also does not recall Mr Bilbo talking about the period either.

Orin - Post  #108
In response to Orin's question about where Thindren/Seedeene might have gone or why, Lady Gilraen replies "I was but a young maiden when it happened and I am afraid I never spoke with him. But those who did said he blamed himself for Tolger's death. I'm afraid I cannot provide any more information than that!"

Angrenost-en-Forod. Arno. Arthedain. Cardolan. Rhudaur.

Eryndis’ joined brow tightens as she turns the strange names over in her mind. Are these places they will walk, when they go north? What have they to do with Aethelbrim’s tale?

She gives a small shake of her head, feeling suddenly adrift.

Her people do not trouble themselves with such things. They keep apart. The matters of Sûl-gan are few, and she has known little of even those. When she becomes leech, she will stand nearer the center of such talk — but for now, she has kept to her work and her learning.

Some among her people have spoken of reaching beyond the fen — of dealing more with those who dwell at its edges.

Now, she is not so certain.

Perhaps it is better they remain in the fen.

"My lady." Gwinion's voice carried its usual quiet, but with a weight of respect beneath it. "Our intention is to travel north together and aid Aethelbrim in the quest her mentor laid upon her before he died." He paused, and something in his expression suggested he had been turning the next thought over for some time. "I believe Rupert's tale and her errand are connected. The details differ, but the shadow they describe feels like one and the same. I cannot yet say how, only that it sits too close for chance."

His gaze was steady and direct.

"We will need to prepare well before we depart. A single Ranger can live off the land without great difficulty, but five is another matter, and the country north of here grows thin and empty the further one goes. Game is sparse, settlements few and disappear as we go further north." He paused briefly. "We will need supplies enough for a long march, and a pack animal to carry what five people cannot reasonably bear on their backs. Without proper provision, the road will wear us down before we ever reach whatever waits at the end of it."

He let the need settle before finishing simply.

"Would you be willing to aid us in this, my lady? It would make no small difference to what lies ahead."

Lady Gilraen listens to Gwinion’s request before responding with the following “I do not know how long this journey will take but with Ivanneth coming almost over, Narbaleth is fast approaching. As you would all be aware this means that not only will the nights get longer and the days shorter but as Gwinion can attest on the northern edges of the north downs you can expect early snow falls. I am aware that Aethelbrim has a pony but I will arrange for you to have a second as well as two tents in case you are caught in the open and cannot find other shelter. "

She then turns to Eryndis saying “the land you will be travelling will be far colder than what you have experienced before. I will therefore arrange for you to be provided with a clothing suitable for such a cold environment”.

She then addressees the party with the following “as we say in our language ‘No I Melain na le’ which translates as may the powers of the world protect you on your travels!”

Aethelbrim:

”Thank you, Lady Gilraen,” says Aethelbrim with a small curtsy.

”Let us prepare provisions to go with the pony, clothing and tents being graciously provided,” suggests the young captain.  

"Hannon le!!" Gwinion says as the Lady Gilraen offers the supplies and pony.  "You are very generous." He looks around at the others for a moment and then turns his attention back to the Lady.  "Unless you have further advice for us, we thank you for your blessing.  We have preparations to make.  It is still early morning and if all goes well we can leave by early afternoon."

Eryndis looks Lady Gilraen in the eye as she speaks to her. The offer of warm clothing takes the young marsh woman by surprise. She had not thought of ice or snow. Thinking on it, Thu-Gun said nothing of preparing for cold, but perhaps that is part of the Going Forth — to learn what one has not been taught, and to prepare better in days to come.

“Th-thank you,” she stammers. She gives a quick, shallow bow and lowers her gaze once more.

As the others begin to leave, Eryndis draws a breath, takes hold of her braid, and steps closer to the Lady. Speaking low, she says, “My lady ... Ranger Eryndis. I hoped to meet her again. Do you know where she went?”

She listens closely, lifting her eyes just enough to look at the Lady through her lashes. When the answer is given — whether helpful or not — she bows again and offers her thanks.

Then she turns quickly and hurries from the chamber, closing the door behind her. Catching up with the others, she straightens at last and lets out a long breath.

She cannot imagine Thu-Gun ever being so unsettled by another person. Was she like this on her own Going Forth? Surely not.

Her thoughts turn to the clothing. Will she need to go to a shop? Will it be brought to her?

Two ponies.

She smiles.

There are no pack animals in the fen — the ground is too soft, too easy to break a leg. She has liked the horses she has seen on the road, though she has not spent much time near them. A small hope stirs that she might be allowed to help tend them.

She does not think she is ready to ride one, however. Not yet.

Orin hid his disappointment behind an understanding half-smile and nod. But inwardly, he made a note to try and learn more of the story by other means during the journey itself. "Mn! Can't say I'm forward to the chill, but the company here aughta to make for a fine enough distraction from it." Orin chuckled a little, then finally gave more formal bow at the waist to Lady Gilraen. "You have our thanks and thensome, Lady Gilraen. And though only a fool would believe this so, mayhaps the road will prove just as kindly and generous." He said, snorts towards the end, then turns to regard the others. 

“Come friends we have some planning to do” Gwinion says leading the party back to the Common Room, which is now empty, and finding a table in the corner of the room sits down with his back to the wall and facing the entry. He turns to Hildebrand saying “could you get your map out?” Gwinion quickly peruses the map and then says “I would estimate it will take use seven days to get to the dell that Rupert talked about. Once there it will be a further half-day to the village of Cran. Fortunately for the first three days we can make our way up the Greenway before leaving the old road and starting our climb into the downs.” He pauses and then continues “… while I am not overly familiar with the area, I probably know more about it than the rest of you. I will therefore act as both guide and scout. Eryndis, could you with the help of Hildebrand use your skills and knowledge of the wild – admittedly well to the south of here – to seek out and collect additional food to supplement our rations; I suspect that existing on trail rations alone for a week or more will get awfully tedious. Aethelbrim, could you and Orin please organise the watches. We will need to try and establish camp by late afternoon if possible so I would suggest we each take a two hour stint.” Once again he pauses and then continues “I suspect that most of country will be fairly open and we can travel as a group but I would ask both Eryndis and Hildebrand to lead a pony each!” He looks at Aethelbrim and continues “I know the first pony is yours but I think it best if we both are in a position to draw our weapons quickly in case it is needed!”

As Gwinion finishes his briefing, Barnaby enters the room accompanied by Nob and Bob who both have their arms full with tents and other gear. On top of Nob’s pile is a dark grey cloak. Barnaby says to the party “these are some gifts from the Lady Gilraen.” He touches the dark grey cloak, which looks much like the cloak worn by Gwinion saying to Eryndis “this is for you. It is made from wool of the harbdo – a cross between the wild goral and common sheep – and is naturally waterproof. Its close weave is also very effective at keeping out the cold wind such as I understand – although I’ve never been there – is common on the downs.” He pauses and then continues “at the Lady’s request I have asked around about a second pony and have found one but unfortunately it will not be in my stable until later today. I have therefore taken the liberty of having a room made up in which you can all sleep tonight. I have also asked the kitchen to make up an additional five days of trail rations for each of you. You do not need to pay for the extra accomodation or the food, this is my contribution to your journey!” 

He then turns to leave saying “if there is nothing else, I’ll be about my business.” But as he turns to leave, he turns back and reaching into a pocket in his apron takes out a note which he passes to Gwinion saying “I almost forgot. This is for you.”

Aethelbrim:

”As you say, Gwinion.  I will make sure my spices are well-stocked and my blade is sharp for the journey.  You speak of a journey to the dell near Cran—as it is nearest and of possible danger to the region, it should of course be our first target,” agrees Aethelbrim.

”But as we plan provision and season, how much further will it be from there to Angrenost-en-Forod,” she asks, pulling out her own map and comparing it to the other.

Hunting ... that should be simple enough. Everyone in Sûl-gan — from the youngest to the eldest — knows how to track and gather. Eryndis has had little chance to practice of late, her time given to her apprenticeship, but she is equal to the task — so long as there is light. That is the key. She will need to say it plain. The sun must be with them.

The young woman steals a glance at Hildebrand. The hobbit is skilled with words and music. She wonders how much he knows of gathering. He does not dress like one who hunts. She bites her lip, then lets the thought pass. She will see soon enough.

She is almost too taken with her thoughts to follow all of Gwinion’s words, but when he asks her to lead a pony, she draws in a sharp, delighted breath. Her thin mouth spreads into a pleased smile, and she nods quickly. A small hope in her heart has come true.

Eryndis is still light with it when the proprietor and a couple of his staff return with the provisions. When the cloak is placed in her hands, she can hardly believe it. It is beautiful. She runs her fingers over the cloth, careful, almost reverent. Such a thing must have taken a full moon to make.

Her people know of sheep, but she had not seen one until only recently. Harbdo and goral are words she does not know. Yet if such things can be made from their hair, they must be wondrous creatures.

She murmurs her thanks to Barnaby.

If it had been anyone else, Orin might've bristled at them taking point in assigning roles and making bold claims about the course ahead of the group. But whether it be due to prior attesting to the man's skill, or air of quiet confidence and competence honed from experience shown by Gwinion during the briefing, the dwarf could but only thoughtless nod in agreement.

Orin is still a touch out of it when Barnaby enters the room, claiming and offering gifts to passed along from Lady Gilraen. But almost at the very last moment, the dwarf snapped to attention and said, "There is one other matter, Barnaby, that I don't believe we ever quite got sorted out. That being of course whether or not you have a pipe to spare!" He said with a grin. But then, seeming to remember Gwinion's place the fellowship, he somewhat sheepishly looks to the man and says, "That is of course a minor indulgence can be afforded on this journey of ours. For our confess, the stock I use a bit, uhh, strong to help with this." He pats a leg, presuming the ranger -- and by extension, most others at the table -- have seen past the dwarf's efforts to disguise the slight limp in step.