Chapter 2: The Marsh Hog Hunt

Sep 24, 2026 2:05 pm
@At Nin-in-Eilph
You stand on a hill overlooking the wide expanse of pools and reeds along the Glanduin River, a half-day journey west from Rusling. The elves named this marshland Nin-in-Eilph, or in the common speech, Swanfleet. It's home to a vast number of the migratory birds, some of whom are capable of speech. None are talking now. The mid-September afternoon is chill and breezy but at least not rainy. The sun between clouds gives you bursts of warmth.

Like about half of the village, you've tromped over the grassy, muddy hills to get here and watch Stott Prince slay a boar that Gunder and Jane will flush for him. It's hard to say who has the worser risk here. The boar might turn on the houndsman and his hound, who is not physically suited to this prey but is the best the village has to offer; she likes the work, beside. If the boar runs true, Stott will meet it kneeling with braced spear and must hope the crossbar and hefty shaft will hold it off.

Mimnern's role is to use her animal kinship skill to get Gunder and Jane close to the boar's den. Posco is along to gather healing herbs from the marsh verges. Snori has his own reasons for attending (maybe just for entertainment, like the other villagers).

Mianne is not here. Someone felt the muddy walk would not be suitable for her.
OOC:
What do you do, as Stott and his two armsmen prepare themselves?
Sep 24, 2026 5:39 pm
Posco had never been to the marsh, he always broke off from the Green Way before he ever reached it.

But looking upon the place for the first time, he recalls a fragment of an old Hobbit folk-song. Brought to Bree-land by the Stoor-Hobbits who once lived here in the marsh, but moved away after the Great Plague.

He recalled the words only as he spoke them, unearthing something that had been forgotten since his youth...

"No home in Swanfleet beneath the hills
On sand and silt and logs we build
Our home foundation is solid still
We have no need of doors

The waters reflect our hearts they're filled
Though cold and slow and salt instill
We gather and tend the swans they trill
Our home we are the Stoors...
"

He smiles softly to himself, as the words bring up memories of the Yule season, and community gatherings in Staddle.
Sep 25, 2026 5:00 pm
One of Stott Prince's armsmen approaches Mimnern. "Now I've hear y'r han'y wif animals," he utters. "Can y' get the bo-ar to run straight on at Prince, when there Gun'er an' houn' flush it oot?"
Sep 25, 2026 9:45 pm
Gunder's down on one knee, caring little about the marsh grime as he murmurs to Jane. The deerhound's eyes are bright and alert. From the slant of her ears, the way she's posed, he knows that she's ready to be off. No matter that the nature of this hunt suited her breed not at all.

His gaze goes toward the Stott Prince and his men. This is the third season where he'd been told to bring Jane for hunting boar. On the first, and each time after, the word No had formed in his mind and died before it came out his mouth. A common man didn't deny a Prince lightly. Better the boar, he tells himself.
OOC:
I wonder what Mimnern thinks of using animal kinship for that purpose...
Sep 26, 2026 2:52 am
"I cannot make the boar do anything," Mimnern said. She wore a traveler’s cloak, greenish in hue, compared to her grey outfit at the tavern. Gone were her few trappings of courtly life. "Such ways are that of the Enemy. It is mischief that I call upon."

It was a poor use of her talents to sate princely passions. High men brought higher trouble. But Stott Prince commanded much esteem – his very men patrolled many of the roads that Mimnern walked. To refuse him so openly after she had fed on his account was pure effrontery.

If she wanted to keep the peace, her part in the hunt was set. She plucked a leaf and put it to her lips. Amazingly, she emitted the sound of a boar’s prized mate.

She bade the animal to come hither.
Sep 26, 2026 9:19 pm
Posco shifts away from the subtle tensions, the Hobbits of Bree-land had not been a subject to any king for nearly 1,000 years, and it seemed like his allies relished such service about as much as he.

So he strolled away from the direction Jane and Gunder went - he certainly doesn't want to tangle with a boar (though wouldn't mind a taste of the stew its meat goes into)...

He would occasionally look back to see how things were going, but otherwise turned his attention to spying out places that looked hospitable to the delicate plant.

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