Book 8: Act 1 - The Troubles of Men

[Muskrat]

Varuthil looks with curiosity at Nerulf and tries to make out what the old man is saying. She says, "Sir, I would be curious to here your life story and why you are living here at your venerable age." She is genuinely curious, but also hopes her interest will help smooth over any bad feelings from her inability to mask her distaste for Glirion's song.

[Blubbo_Baggins]

On the one hand Finn feels bad that he egged on the silliness of the song, and yet on the other it seems they earned the trust of the Lakemen. "Old Nerulf, sure tell us your life story," Finn adds to what Varuthil says, "And any other wisdom you have to share. We're heading south, through the Long Marshes to a new settlement in East Bight. If you have news, we'd most appreciate it."

[Vardaen]

"South!" The old man's mumbled speech is a bit clearer for a moment. "No no no. If you go south in the marshes take heed: tread lightly and fear the gallowsweed..." he repeats this over and over, like some child with an old rhyme. He can't be made to make sense, and the men apologize for the strange old man's reaction and attempt to escort him back to his hut very upset at the whole exchange.

[Muskrat]

Varuthil looks on sadly as the old man is led back to his hut. She finds herself pitying Men, knowing that, if they live long enough, they will all end up like that--and that time will come to them in what an elf like herself would consider all too quick a time. She finds herself turning the word the old man had used, "Gallowsweed," over in her head, to see if she remembers any such plant from her studies.

Action

Lore + Shadow-Lore if appropriate

[Blubbo_Baggins]

"Ah, an old wives' tale," replies Finn as Old Nerulf is taken away again. "I don't believe in it, but I don't suppose it hurts to keep a close eye out. The Long Marshes are not a place to get caught napping. And after all, all old wives' tales come from somewhere."

He turns to Hild, and after seeing her, can tell she is ready to call it a night. "Well friends, maybe we ought to pack in for the night; we've got a long way to go tomorrow."

[Othniel]

"Old wives may turn out to have long memories," Glirion agrees. "We would be remiss to reject any information offered out of hand."

[Wbweather]

Gerwald searches his memory trying to remember if he has heard of Gallowsweed before. He cannot help but think the old gaffer is trying to give them some useful information even if he is a bit mad.

Action

Lore 2

[Muskrat]

Varuthil says, "I don't think it's just an old wives' tale. While I've never seen it myself, I have reports of gallowsweed. It's some kind of tree--I think it might have vines. But it can wrap itself around the neck of the unwary and choke them to death. We would be wise to keep an eye out for it."

She looks after Nerulf and asks out loud, "I wonder if he lost someone important to him to the gallowsweed?" She looks at the young men to see if they know anything.

[Vardaen]

The rest of the night is spent around the fire talking of herb lore and wood craft, of travel, and of growing old. The non-elves fall to talking of aging parents, of passed grand parents, and of family lost. The elves have a different perspective on these sorts of matters, and perhaps that adds to the tensions between peoples in the world.

When morning arrives you say your good-byes to the lake men and take a final look at the lake in the distance up the cliffs. You put your boats into the River Running and plan your day. Beyond the Stair of Girion, the company will be rowing south in the Long Marshes, an area considered to this day to be mostly unexplored and dangerous, shunned even by the most curious of lake-men and raft-elves. The terrain along the river vale is flat and fenny, and a dense fog often rises in the morning, making it almost impossible to follow a path on land. Boating on the river makes for a steady progress, even if the stream becomes tortuous and sometimes wanders among a hundred winding courses. The river waters are faster in spring than in other periods of the year, as the ice melts in the distant mountains.

Scene-LongLake.jpg (153.99 KiB) Viewed 254 times

Approximately 25 miles south from the lake, the river enters the eastern eaves of Mirkwood. The shadowy canopy of the wood seems to silence the sounds of nature, from the buzzing of insects to the chirping of birds. You're fellowship has covered some twenty miles today. The water way has grown more and more difficult to steer for Finn and Glirion. The river is now engulfed by the marshes and meanders and moves slowly among the dangling branches and submerged roots. It is all the pair can do to keep your small crafts from becoming stuck in the mire, and its worse the further you go. Soon you worry that you might get the boats stuck, and the thoughts of having to get out into the cold muddy water to free the boats does not make anyone happy.

You could press on a while, but a dark growing line of trees, Mirkwood, is growing closer by the hour, or your could camp here among the fens for the night.

[Muskrat]

Varuthil looks around, worry plain on her face. "I think it might be wisest to press on. Neither the fens nor Mirkwood are safe, but at least in Mirkwood we could camp with solid ground beneath us--and if something decides to trouble us in the night, I would rather have solid ground beneath me."