King Arvedui's hand wavered over his sword. "After all," he told himself,
"We are many, and he is only one, giant though he be."
He hesitated before drawing the sword, however; this man could as easily be their savior as their killer. Arvedui was calm in the quiet before the storm of possible battle, as he waited for the mysterious stranger to address the company. He only hoped that his companions would show similar restraint.
Before anyone could make a move, however, the huge man spoke. "Men of the south," he growled, "Why do you trespass in our lands?" The giant silently dared them to pursue the road further without his consent, although the king thought he caught a gleam of boyish excitement in his eye.
Arvedui answered in a firm but chagrined tone, "I am King Arvedui of Arthedain, and I and my company have been driven from our lands by the witch-king of Angmar. We seek the shelter of a people of whom we have heard: the Lossoth. If you are one of them, or of another friendly race, we hope that your leaders will look kindly upon our plea for help."
The giant's granite-like face loosened in amazement; and his eyes, already the size of saucers, became wagon wheels. "We have not heard such terrible news in years! I will take you at once to Chief Volsung," he told them in a slightly less threatening roar.
He turned and began quickly leading the travelers further down what they now recognized as a road. In his haste, the company found it quite difficult to keep up, for the Northman's size lent him great speed. At his every step, the ground shuddered slightly beneath them, and they started at the strange vibrations that shook them.
But mostly they were in shock at the sudden appearance of what must certainly have been one of the long-sought Lossoth. Thousands of questions burned in their minds. Were these really the men of legend? Were all of them this...huge? What would the Northmen's land look like when they got there? The king's companions buzzed with speculation, rumors, and pure amazement. There were more than a few perturbed expressions among them, too, for they knew nothing of this people or their ways, and were not convinced that they would be safe among them. No matter how much the witch- king pressed them from the south, they were loath to deliver themselves into the hands of a people known only through a few vague legends.
The king shared their consternation, but he took the direct approach: he rode up beside the enormous man and began a conversation. Though the king was fairly tall himself, his head was not quite level with the Northman's.
"Dare I hope that our admission into your lands means that you, too, know of the fell king and oppose him?" Arvedui figured that other enemies of the witch-king would be trustworthy enough, at least, to shelter others who had fallen under his blows.
"Of course," the giant responded gruffly, as though slightly incredulous that it could be any other way, "Of necessity, our scouts have been keeping tabs on this vile conqueror, lest his threat spread northward. We certainly could not leave such a menacing power unwatched."
"Perhaps you knew of Arthedain's existence, then, too?" the king queried.
"Yes," the giant responded tersely.
"Ah! I wonder how it is that we were not aware of your presence save through a few scattered legends. As a king, I am disappointed to be ignorant of surrounding realms, especially those willing to ally themselves against a common enemy." Years of diplomacy training had provided Arvedui with tools for deftly avoiding accusal of the Northmen for not sending much- needed aid. He hoped fervently that this seclusion did not mean that the Lossoth were hostile to foreigners.
"Unfortunately, my people are reluctant to make contact with outsiders, even friendly ones. We are discreet - and discrete - enough that we make few enemies, if any," he chuckled, "Others find our climate inhospitable, too, so we tend not to require allies in war. Some, like me, think the Lossoth could benefit from some foreign ties, but most are overly wary of other nations. They just want to be left well enough alone, and I certainly do not blame them for that, especially when the most we see of Southwards is news of the witch-king. Me, though, I'll jump at the chance to meet new people." he sighed.
"Mind you, that does not mean that you and your company will not be given a warm welcome. Be prepared to be gawked at, though!" he cautioned jovially.
The king was so relieved by this news that he felt comfortable enough to let his guard down some. "That is welcome news, indeed! But if I am truly to be familiarized with this land, perhaps it would help to know your name?"
"I am Gunnar, and be sure to tell them that, too!" Gunnar motioned towards the rest of the company, having caught far too many mutterings of "Giant!" from that direction.
The nearest soldiers caught this, and laughingly passed on the message. So the king's companions continued their journey, relieved by a renewed feeling of safety. For a time, at least.
A/N: yes, i stole the names Gunnar and Volsung from Norse mythology. So sue me.
He hesitated before drawing the sword, however; this man could as easily be their savior as their killer. Arvedui was calm in the quiet before the storm of possible battle, as he waited for the mysterious stranger to address the company. He only hoped that his companions would show similar restraint.
Before anyone could make a move, however, the huge man spoke. "Men of the south," he growled, "Why do you trespass in our lands?" The giant silently dared them to pursue the road further without his consent, although the king thought he caught a gleam of boyish excitement in his eye.
Arvedui answered in a firm but chagrined tone, "I am King Arvedui of Arthedain, and I and my company have been driven from our lands by the witch-king of Angmar. We seek the shelter of a people of whom we have heard: the Lossoth. If you are one of them, or of another friendly race, we hope that your leaders will look kindly upon our plea for help."
The giant's granite-like face loosened in amazement; and his eyes, already the size of saucers, became wagon wheels. "We have not heard such terrible news in years! I will take you at once to Chief Volsung," he told them in a slightly less threatening roar.
He turned and began quickly leading the travelers further down what they now recognized as a road. In his haste, the company found it quite difficult to keep up, for the Northman's size lent him great speed. At his every step, the ground shuddered slightly beneath them, and they started at the strange vibrations that shook them.
But mostly they were in shock at the sudden appearance of what must certainly have been one of the long-sought Lossoth. Thousands of questions burned in their minds. Were these really the men of legend? Were all of them this...huge? What would the Northmen's land look like when they got there? The king's companions buzzed with speculation, rumors, and pure amazement. There were more than a few perturbed expressions among them, too, for they knew nothing of this people or their ways, and were not convinced that they would be safe among them. No matter how much the witch- king pressed them from the south, they were loath to deliver themselves into the hands of a people known only through a few vague legends.
The king shared their consternation, but he took the direct approach: he rode up beside the enormous man and began a conversation. Though the king was fairly tall himself, his head was not quite level with the Northman's.
"Dare I hope that our admission into your lands means that you, too, know of the fell king and oppose him?" Arvedui figured that other enemies of the witch-king would be trustworthy enough, at least, to shelter others who had fallen under his blows.
"Of course," the giant responded gruffly, as though slightly incredulous that it could be any other way, "Of necessity, our scouts have been keeping tabs on this vile conqueror, lest his threat spread northward. We certainly could not leave such a menacing power unwatched."
"Perhaps you knew of Arthedain's existence, then, too?" the king queried.
"Yes," the giant responded tersely.
"Ah! I wonder how it is that we were not aware of your presence save through a few scattered legends. As a king, I am disappointed to be ignorant of surrounding realms, especially those willing to ally themselves against a common enemy." Years of diplomacy training had provided Arvedui with tools for deftly avoiding accusal of the Northmen for not sending much- needed aid. He hoped fervently that this seclusion did not mean that the Lossoth were hostile to foreigners.
"Unfortunately, my people are reluctant to make contact with outsiders, even friendly ones. We are discreet - and discrete - enough that we make few enemies, if any," he chuckled, "Others find our climate inhospitable, too, so we tend not to require allies in war. Some, like me, think the Lossoth could benefit from some foreign ties, but most are overly wary of other nations. They just want to be left well enough alone, and I certainly do not blame them for that, especially when the most we see of Southwards is news of the witch-king. Me, though, I'll jump at the chance to meet new people." he sighed.
"Mind you, that does not mean that you and your company will not be given a warm welcome. Be prepared to be gawked at, though!" he cautioned jovially.
The king was so relieved by this news that he felt comfortable enough to let his guard down some. "That is welcome news, indeed! But if I am truly to be familiarized with this land, perhaps it would help to know your name?"
"I am Gunnar, and be sure to tell them that, too!" Gunnar motioned towards the rest of the company, having caught far too many mutterings of "Giant!" from that direction.
The nearest soldiers caught this, and laughingly passed on the message. So the king's companions continued their journey, relieved by a renewed feeling of safety. For a time, at least.
A/N: yes, i stole the names Gunnar and Volsung from Norse mythology. So sue me.