Fellowship of the Dice

Ulfúr's sword is given to his followers who take his remains and then prepare to leave. If there is some resentment in their glances, they at least are wise enough to be contrite in their speech as they take their leave. Léora and her people watch them closely and you can tell that there is no love lost between the two groups of people.

Imhar speaks with his people in their own language for a time before he returns to your group. "We have made a decision. I will travel with you to the halls of your king, trusting you for protection. I will present our case before him. Let us see how receptive this new king is to the people of Dunland. He will decide what share of the gold we will receive for our part in the slaying of this beast. I hope that he will show more wisdom in dealing with our people than his father."

Léora and her people stay to assist in the making of camp. That night there is some celebration and your group and hers spend some time interacting and getting to know each other. Several of them are quick to tell you what they know of Ulfúr's reputation. He was always knownbe boastful but strong, and a proud son of the Mark. Most folk liked him, while also knowing to be wary of him in his cups. Many share his views on the threat posed by the Dunlendings, and his easy solutions are popular. It is true that he slew a fellow minstrel, though the cause was often disputed. Some say he was simply jealous of his rival’s clear voice. Others say he slew a man of Dunlending blood, because he couldn’t bear Dunlending songs to be heard in Edoras. When asked about Léora's interest in him, they are generally quiet, suggesting she might be able to tell you more if you ask her.

Later that evening the shieldmaiden does just that, telling you her story. The minstrel slain by Ulfúr was her brother. She had sworn to get revenge on the man and for years has gathered people about her for that reason. She had joined the quest to spy on Ulfúr, hoping to find a way to disgrace him or perhaps even exact revenge. Her people had been following Ulfúr, They soon had noticed that Ulfúr had been following you with the intention of swooping in at the last minute and getting credit for ending the crisis. She and her people arrived to find Ulfúr dead and the troll slain by your hand.

Torwin is glad to know that Léora found a justice in these events that have come to pass, and at the same time, did not have to enact revenge herself.

They sit by the fire, eating, drinking, thankful for now that the danger of the Grimgelad is passed. "I would gladly work with you and your followers again, should the King have the need for us to serve," he says to her. Then looking at the others sitting nearby he adds, speaking to no one directly, "But I wonder if the true problem has been dealt with. It's clear to me that whatever the voice was, it controlled the beast and made it cunning and powerful. I'm afraid we will only hear of problems anew in the Westfold in the coming days."

"Torwin speaks for me as well," Istril confirms, her voice quiet. "My mind is unsettled at the possibilities."

The next day dawns with somewhat less chill in the air. The Dunlendings depart, Imhar alone accompanying you to Edoras. Léora and her people will ride with you as well. You break camp and make your way back towards Edoras. Most of the day passes with little excitement. The White Mountains off to your right seem somewhat less menacing than they did on your ride to the Grimgelad. Soon the sun is decending toward the horizon behind you in the west. You send scouts out to look for a safe camp site.

That is when you notice a group of riders blocking your further progress on the road. You draw closer, seeing some familiar faces as you approach. This seems to be Ufúr's ban as well as several more warriors who seem to have joined them overnight. One among them is so close in resemblance to Ulúr as to make you question if you are seeing a ghost. They all hold weapons though none move save that man who spurs his horse forward to confront you.

"I am Héastan, brother of Ulfúr. I know of your allegiance with the Dunlending barbarians. My brother discovered your betrayal and so you had your creature slay him. Well, now that your pet is dead and your barbarians have left you, I will see that you face justice for your actions." As he speaks the men behind him make glances at one another.

Torwin begins to chant an old battle song, a song written by a famous minstrel named Ulf of Esgaroth, about the Men of Eorl the Young coming to the rescue of Cirion at Celebrant. The words ring out, though Torwin does not yet know if the meaning will sink in:

The true enemy were and are the Orcs, and their master out of Dol Guldur, who had waylaid the Eotheod on their ride to rescue Calenardhon.

Éodir looks around as to what the other will do, but decides to brake the silent tension. “Greetings Héastan, and my condolences. We avenged your brother’s death by slaying the troll that was harassing the farmers in the area.” He now feels very aware of the eye’s that are upon him. Though his knee’s feel heavy, he continues on. “We are now on our way to Edoras to complete our quest set by the King. We were told not to harm any person, when possible, but bring them to the King instead and to led him decide upon fate of the situation at hand. You are more than welcome to join us on our road to Edoras and to witness justice served.” He looks at Héastan in anticipation of his reaction, not acknowledging any possible reaction from Imhar.

Hereweald, seated atop his horse, just rests his hand on the pommel of his sword. He looks at the group of men, "Héastan? Then your brother's blade has been returned to you by his men?" Its all the hunter adds at this point after the others have a moment to speak. His eyes keep watch on Héastan's men, not trusting any of this.

Istril sits astride her borrowed steed, Windrǣs, in watchful silence, making no move for a weapon. She doesn't wish to accidentally provoke battle with these wayward Rohirrim.