Village Crossroads You stand at the crossroads of the Beorning township that is situated in this part of Middle-Earth. To the east lies the forest of Mirkwood and all the wonders that lurk within. To the west lies the mighty Anduin River and beyond the soaring peaks of the Misty Mountains jut skyward.
Sunlight streams down upon the crossroads, although the immense Oak Tree that is situated in the centre casts lengthy shadows across the area. During the daylight hours much activity can be seen as people bustle about their duties. The Great Bear Inn is situated on one corner of the crossroads and as always, it is open for business. Opposite the Inn are the stables where one may keep their steeds and know that they are in safe hands. As you gaze to both the north and the south, you can see that much more of the town lies beyond where you stand at this moment.
The sky is clear. The midday summer air is very hot and dry around you. The moon is waxing gibbous.
Contents: Haukr Beorning Bedrolls Magnificent Oak Tree Large Bear Statue Obvious exits: Northeast leads to Stables. Southeast leads to Great Bear Inn - Entrance Hall. South leads to Southern Village. North leads to Northern Village. East leads to Anduin Road, East of Village. West leads to Anduin East Bank.
Middle-earth time is: Early Afternoon on Midyear’s Day. Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.
Real time is: 12:00:03 MDT on Tue Jun 22 2004.
Nurfal stretches and looks around lazily. It is early afternoon on midsummer’s day! Girls in their nicest clothes, laughter and shouting, boys running around and sneaking around corners, smiling people relaxing in sun. Nurfal looks at the big, empty glass in his hand, and checks the crossroads again. “Hey, Haukr!! Over here!” he shouts, as he sees his friend.
Midsummer, midyear, the height of the heat before it begins to wane... Aye, it is a hot day, but the air is dry and the sky is clear. Mead flows freely, and ale, and beer ... even wines from Dale are poured out, and happy drunkeness abounds.
Brynjolf walks through the clouds, a faint smile touching his bearded lips. In one hand he holds a mug of mead, and in the other a flute. His gait is steady, faintly over-cautious in the manner of the slightly-drunk.
Haukr wanders aimlessly around in is finest clothing (which basically means that his trousers and his tunic are clean). He looks a bit lonesome and forelorn. When he see Nurfal, he gives a sigh of relief. “Aye. Greetings, Nurfal.”
Da da. Di di.
Torald sneaks along the road from the southern village, occasionally glancing about, worried. He makes steady but sure progress towards the Great Bear Tavern, and he’s not busted yet...
Nurfal laughs, “T’was a fine night, yesterday! First chasing the boys, and then merry laughter until the morning birds sang again, eh? But we got to find ourselves something to drink, old friend, because it’s MIDSUMMER DAY!!” He raises his mug and points at the crowd. “Don’t you love coming back to town?” Suddenly he pauses, “Wait a minute... Do you see what I see?”
“Torald, lad, laddie,” Brynjolf roars a pleasant greeting, stepping forward to clap the boy on the shoulder. “Come have a drink with me!” He grins down at him.
Curses! Torald bites back a few expletives, swallows them, gags, and nods. “Um, okay.”
Haukr approaches Nurfal, not knowing what to do with his hands he finally decides to hook his thumbs into his belt. “Aye. Midsummer day. Figured out that I ought to celebrate. Been trying all day.” He tries a smile. “Speakin’ o’ those rascals. Isn’t this Torvald over there?”, he adds pointing towards the lad. “I bet my axe. That he’s out on mischief again.”
Nurfal chuckles, “Let’s go see what he’s up to!” With that, he walks over.
The trader grins wolfishly. “I need t’ get drunk,” he says absently. “Midsummer’s day and that. So come with me, we’ll go to the Great Bear... but let’s pick up a coupla more guests.”
Brynjolf scans the crowd.
Torald nods cheerfully enough to Brynjolf, and then sees Nurfal and Haukr. He seems to shrink backwards. “Uh, hi, Nurfal ... Haukr. Pleasant, erm, day.”
Gloomily Haukr follows in his friend’s track. When he sees the trader his expression lightens up a little bit. “Aye, trader. ’Tis good to see you again.” he says. Then he adds, earnestly nodding towards Torald: “Greetings, lad.”
Nurfal whacks Torald’s shoulder merrily, “Good boy! Up to no good, I assume?” He laughs. “Greetings, Brynjolf. Will you join us in some merry-making?”
Torald is pushed a bit forward by the slap to the back. “Define good,” he mumbles with a scowl.
You say, “Why so grim? Need a drink?” Nurfal smirks.
“No, I certainly shall not join ye in merry-making, Haukr and Nurfal... But if ye’d join me, that would be good.” Brynjolf grins, turning toward the Great Bear’s door. “You see, I have all this gold burnin’ my pocket, and I long to spend it on drinks.”
Haukr answers: “Aye. If Nurfal is with us. Then I am willing. To follow you, Brynjolf. I even might consider making peace with this little fiend. This being a celebatory. And all.” He glance distrustfully at Torald.
Nurfal steps forward and opens the doors to the Great Bear Inn. Turning, he holds the door open for the others and nods his head. “
Torald coughs, taking one step away from the group, perhaps feeling a bit crowded, before heading in.
Torald passes into the main hall of the Great Bear Inn. Brynjolf passes into the main hall of the Great Bear Inn.
You enter into the Great Bear Inn’s main hall. Great Bear Inn - Entrance Hall
The door from the outside leads to the masive entrance hall, so large it occupies the entire front of the building. Made from the finest hardwoods which the efforts of the forresters could produce, the hall is futher decorated by woven rugs which hang from the walls and drape majestically on the floor.
Windows allow a generous amount of light into the hall, illuminating the passage into the dining hall and common room.
Contents: Brynjolf Torald Woodmen Archers Message Board Obvious exits: Dining Room leads to Dining Room. Out leads to Village Crossroads. Stairs leads to Upstairs Hallway. Carved Door leads to Innkeeper’s Room. Tavern leads to Tavern. Haukr enters from the village center. Haukr has arrived.
Torald enters the tavern. Torald has left. Brynjolf enters the tavern. Brynjolf has left. Haukr enters the tavern. Haukr has left. You step into the tavern. Tavern
The common room is a circular room with a large radius. Located in the center of the wooden circle is a large fire pit, burning and spitting up smoke and ashes of wood. Directly above the fire is a large smoke hole to which the rest of the ceiling slopes towards. The wood around the smoke hole is blacked with the smoke. The stout tables stand ready to hold the repast of large men, for large are the Northmen who live in this village; the stools and long benches are constructed of thick hardwood, and can hold even the largest of their number aright.
The common room is populated with men and women taking a few moments off their feet during the day; light floods in through the open windows of the common room, warming everything in a bright basking glow.
Contents: Haukr Brynjolf Torald Woody Obvious exits: Dining Room leads to Dining Room. Out leads to Great Bear Inn - Entrance Hall. Table code is in effect here. Type ’thelp’ for information.
The Great Bear is crowded with revellers today, with couples kissing and the drunken flirting of barmaids, with roaring laughter and merry shouts. Brynjolf pushes open the door, leading the way.
His hands still on his belt, his shoulders still raised, his head still bent, Haukr trots into the tavern. Realizing that he can not enter the room unoticed by the other guest, he greets them after a short moment with a hurried nod.
Haukr says, “Something free. On a table? Crowded here.”
Nurfal laughs and pats Haukr’s shoulder, “Come on good fellow! We’re in town, it is time for some celebration. I know you like the birds and the solitude of Mirkwood, but not today! Let’s get something to drink!!”
Torald follows behind the men almost suspiciously, arms crossed.
“Torald, lad, I know y’sister well. Do you think I’d murder Elisabet’s brother?” Brynjolf grins, stepping back to clap the boy on his shoulder. “Come, come drink.”
Haukr muses a little bit. Then he seemingly comes to a decision. He tries a grin into Nurfal’s direction. “Aye. I shall fetch us the mead. Shall I?” He starts to move towards the bar.
As the doors closes behind the newcomers, a fiddler stands up in the corner and starts to play a hopping merry tune. Cheers and laughter, and Sigridhr jumps up, lifts her skirt a bit to show her feet, and she starts stomping. More laughter, and other people joining here. Soon about six or seven start putting hands around their shoulders, jumping, faces red with excitement, and so they wheel through the tavern. Sigridhr grabs Nurfal’s arm, he – surprised – yelps and grabs Haukr’s arm! “No you don’t! Let’s have a dance, first!!”
Torald moves immediately to a bench, sitting down, crossing his arms, doing his best to imitate a grown up voice and calling for a mead.
Brynjolf laughs at this, shaking his head as he passes the dancers. “Ne’er catch me at that,” he says with a laugh. “Fighting, aye, but dancing... ne’er.” He sits next to Torald.
Sheer horror appear’s on Haukr’s face as he finds himself grabbed and drawn towards a dancing crowd. Not able or not willing to struggle against it, he is moved a few steps. “Ooh. Oooh, no. Let me go. I say.”
Nurfal hollers with joy as the group swings to the left and he nearly looses his grip on Haukr, “Come on! Faster! Faster!” He laughs and looses his grip. Both Nurfal and Haukr are spinning on their own when Nurfal sees Ottarr’s drum lying on a table. “Let me borrow that!” he shouts, grabs the drum and starts beating the drum like a maniac, stomping and jumping, his mug lost somewhere in the crowd...
Torald quietly sips at a mug of mead.
While Nurfal dragged him around, Haukr moved his legs and arms in a way that was meant to imitate dancing, but that actually was his attempt on getting away without seeming like a spoilsport. Now that he is free his panic ceases and he hurries toward the bar. “Mead. The other ones. Are waiting.”, he calls to Nurfal seeking his breath. Then he returns to Brynjolf and Torald with four large cups of mead. “You already got some. I see.”
Reaching out, Brynjolf takes a mug. “Hah, yes... I see y’ don’t like dancing, lad.” He sips.
Sweating, Nurfal returns to the table. “Thank you, Haukr, I think I need that drink, now!” He grabs one of the mugs, and raises it, “Midsummer Day! Let light dispell shadow and mirth rule over sorrow!”
“Me neither, Brynjolf.” Haukr nods. “But that is Nurfal. Singing and Beating the drum whenever possible.” He takes a deep draft from his mug.
Tucking his elbows in, Torald tries to be as unnoticeable as possible.
Nurfal eyes Torald and says, “How about you, boy? No singing for us today?”
Brynjolf laughs, but is otherwise silent.
After another deep draught from his mug, Haukr’s cheeks become red. With his dark eyes below the bushy eyebrows, he casts an earnest, but not unfriendly glance at Torald. “Here. Won’t deprive you of your mead today. Take another mug. From me.”, he says giving him the second mug he is still holding.
Nurfal says, “Come on boy, so quiet? Here! Let’s drink to all the wild animals in the forest! To the bear, to the boar, to the bees!” He gratefully takes the second mug, and pours half of it into Torald’s mug, filling it again up to the brim. “I would love to hear you sing, lad!”
“Don’t sing,” Torald mumbles, taking another gulp of mead.
“Ah, lad, why can’t y’ sing? I can bloody well sing...” Brynjolf has finished his first cup. “We can all bloody well sing. Come, come, let us sing...”
“Nay, nay. Let that boy drink his mead in peace. No good forcin’ somebody to sing. Or to dance.” Haukr grins.
Nurfal gets up, nearly toppling his chair, “Ottarr, come on! Beat the drums for Njall’s Ride!” Laughing, Ottarr starts to beat his drum that was passed back to him somehow. “For now he knew that Gunnlaugr was near, and so off he rode into the grassy green and Gunnlaugr saw him and aimed for his spleen... “ Chorus! “But Njall can ride like no man can! He rides and rides and off he goes!!” With that, Nurfal waves his glass around and points at Torald, “Now you!!”
Already quite tipsy, Haukr tries his turn. “Njall ... rode ... forest with his ... swoooord.” That he doesn’t find the words does not matter insofar he doesn’t sing the right tune.
Brynjolf rises to his feet. “Hark, hark, the feared foes flee, and flames consume the wrath of the Enemy!” His voice slurrs slightly, for now he is through his second cup of strong mead. “From forth the fires of battle, brave heroes hence and come, for wrath and ruin, for death and glory, for the great glittering prize of peace...” He’s not singing in any particular order, by now.
Perhaps deciding he is now in it very deep, Torald stands and runs out the door.
Nurfal gets up again and shouts, “Yes! Yes! And flames come forth to strike our hearts, but we fight and fart, and off we go, to ride with friend or foe! Ride and ride and off we go!” With that, he starts dancing again. Sigridhr catches him by the arm again, and they start going round and round and by now he ain’t coherent anyway...
“Fight’n fart? Y’ve bloody murdered it,” Brynjolf says, laughing as he seats himself.
Night falls. Splat. Poor night.
Haukr takes another deep draught and throws his mug to the bottom. He’s quite excited now. He cries: “Now that tune I know.” He sings, or rather growls right away, while Brynjolf is still singing. “... and swinging his axe the brave warrior rode .... for wrath and ruin, for death and glory ...” He shakes his head. “No, that would come later ... for the great glittering prize of peeeaaaace ...” He stumbles and falls on his side like a large oak that a forester fell in the wood.
#Elendor