Dramatis Personae:
Arewe, Woman of Rohan: Ranger 1 (appleciders)
Bruno Honeysett, Man of the Beornings: Fighter 1 (What Exit?)
Elihu "Eli" Proudfoot, Male Hobbit of the Shire: Rogue (Scout) 1(Elendil's Heir)
Gade Cooper, woodsman of Rhovanion: Druid 1 (Stebb)
Rowena Ticehurst, Woman of Dale: Bard 1 (choie)
Tom Gamgee, Male Hobbit of the Great River: Sorcerer (Arcane Bloodline) 1 (glee)
EXTERIOR, South of Dale, day.
A group of strangers are wandering along the banks of the Forest River that runs from distant Greenwood into the Long Lake some short distance north of Dale. The reason can be traced back to the previous night, where a surprise (but very welcome) feast had broken out on an unseasonably warm night only a week into the New Year...
(aside: Dale adopted the custom of beginning the New Year on the 25th of March at the end of the Third Age, just as Gondor did: to commemorate the destruction of the One Ring and the downfall of Sauron, and the end of the War of the Ring)
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The inn-yard behind the Dragonfall Tavern was crowded, partly because it was a fine evening in early Spring after a spell of cool, damp weather had opportunely given way to a warm spell, and partly because a suddenly-announced free ox-roast and, at least, the first kegs of wine and ale also free until they were drunk dry, was cause enough for celebration without further question. Amid the bustle there were a collection of strangers: a couple of hobbits who had never met before and each of whom apparently considered the other's homeland nothing more than a story, a tall woman who wore a green tabard with a white horse a-prance upon it, and a large, massively muscled, dark-haired man from far away who was contentedly making up for months of travel on short rations and seemed, on the whole, to dismiss the music and chatter as an unnecessary and unimportant distraction.
As the evening wore on they all found themselves gravitating towards a fiddle-playing local girl who seemed more than pleased to welcome them to her fair city, and soon was spinning tales about many things, not least why the Dragonfall Tavern was so named:
"Aye, so, in the long past Dale was as fair as it is today, until the wicked worm from the North descended on first the town and then on the mountain to the north where the Dwarves lived. They live there again now; but for many lives of men 'twasn't so, and there was only the legend that the Mountain-King would come back. Oh yes, there were still Men here to tell such tales. They lived on a town in the lake itself, built on wooden pilings; for, d'you see, the Dragon couldn't come at them that way. He could fly, but not land in the narrow streets or on the flimsy roofs of Lake-Town, and between the town and the shore was more than enough cold water to quench every spark in him if he tried to come that way. So they lived there for many a year, always with half an eye on the Mountain, and the Dragon mostly left them alone.
"Then the dwarves came back and stirred up the Dragon, and after all he came to burn the town if he couldn't enter it, and the Men shot all their arrows at it without harm, for he was all covered in dragon-scale and whole layers of hard precious stones from the bed that he lay on in the Mountain - a great heap of all the dwarves' treasure. But at the last, one archer named Bard downed him. 'Twas a mighty shot with a mighty arrow, and a mighty good hint from a bird that perched on his shoulder and whispered it in his ear - No, 'tis true! Whispered the secret of a single soft spot near the Dragon's heart, which the good Bard struck fair and true with his last shot. And the stories go that 'twas one of your kind, Little Masters, that found out the secret.
"Well, there was much ado after the fall of the Dragon, but at the last it was better times for the Men of Dale, who came back and rebuilt their city, and Bard was the King, and it's now the fourth after him that wears the crown - and a long life and good health to him! - but as to that 'much ado', that's a tale that must wait for a time when my throat's not so dry."
The fiddler drained several more cups with that good company, and later said "You know, there's a trail that follows the way those Dwarves came, from under the eaves of Greenwood and later right up to the Mountain itself; and there's a fair memorial at the Mountain to him that afterwards was the King under the Mountain and to our good King Brand, son's son of King Bard, where they fell during the later war. It's reckoned a sight worth seeing, if you've the mind and a good guide."
Being in a mood where such suggestions were easily entertained, the little group pledged to make the pilgrimage together, and met up the following morning with such travelling gear as they possessed, to say naught of a good will to take some exercise in the fresh air outside town that might ease heads a-pound and stomachs a little tender after the excesses of the night before, and they were on their way before the sun was high in the sky.
On the previous night, it had crossed the minstrel Rowena's mind to wonder why it was feast-time all of a sudden, and she did have an enquiring word in an ear or two...
But we'll come back to that also.
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With the sun at noon or something very like it, at last a good honest appetite is beginning to return, and the travellers are setting themselves to prepare a proper meal after being too jaded for more than a very light breakfast. Bruno, who makes light of the burden, quickly rigs a sturdy iron pot on its three-legged stand and then sets about splitting wood for Elihu to build a fire, while the two bow-women go to see if there be a little fresh meat to be had or if they must make do with the dry stuff they have with them; and Tom Gamgee, who's to be the camp cook, goes down to the river for water...
At which a shadow falls upon him, and as he turns to see what is between him and the sun, a great brown shape descends with a plummet and pulls up sharply above his head, before perching on a very stout bough and fixing him with the steely glint of one amber-and-black eye that gazes intently down a long, hooked beak that seems as though it could have ripped the hobbit limb from limb had its owner meant harm. Instead it only grooms the feathers of one long wing, while the creature - vastly bigger than poor Tom Gamgee - seems to wait to see what the hobbit will do next.