The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 58

A Time for Choosing

Trewsday, 1st of Forelithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Hollin

Remains of the Nan Sirannon

There was a prolonged silence. The solemn music of the Elves of Mirobel, still singing their funereal dirge in honour of the departed Luean, continued to blanket the land about us with its mournful notes, but among our Company all hearts were suddenly beating faster.

"What is this?" asked Nephyn in a hushed voice after some time. "Gaelira, I thought Mallacai was the leader of the Seekers of the Seven Stars. Who is Inar?" The she-Elf sighed deeply and her face became lined with concern.

"The Seekers have, in these days of doubt and darkness, morphed into something very different than the treasure-hunting and scholastic fellowship which was its origin. The spectre of war now overshadows all thoughts, and talk of survival is on everyone's lips. Mallacai was, certainly, our leader, but apparently things have changed. I knew nothing of this until now -- I can only suppose it occurred while we tarried in Rivendell as Lagodir recovered. The Leader has always been elected by the kinship's elders, and perhaps the fear of these times may have finally led us from wisdom down onto the path of folly."

"It sounds as though you know something of this Inar, then," I said measuredly. My history with Gaelira had made me distrustful of her at one time, but that was an unfortunate misunderstanding which had long ago been set to rights. Now, it was taking an effort of will to keep myself from sliding back into old suspicions, but I was determined to fight the temptation and hear her out.

"I do," she answered me, "And I will tell you everything I know about Captain Inar, here and now."

"Captain Inar, is it?" asked Lagodir with an arched eyebrow. "Captain of what?"

"The title is more of an honorific because no one really seems to remember the answer to that question -- or perhaps they never knew," Gaelira said. "All I can tell you is that is how he has always been addressed so long as I have known of him. Most likely it is a reference to some vestige of his past: he may have been a soldier or a mercenary in his younger days. He is of the Race of Men and he is elderly for his kind... I think. It has always been difficult for me to judge the ages of mortals, but he may have seen more than three-score summers on this earth, perhaps more. He always wears a deep cowl which shrouds his face, but a short beard of white and a scarred mouth are all that can usually be seen in public. For myself, I have never seen him wearing anything but his very best, highly polished armour, which is always in black and gold -- the kinship's heraldic colours."

"Well, at least we know what his dressing preferences are," said Drodie with a sneer. "But what of the Man himself? And why would be ordering his lackeys to hunt down and murder poor Luean?"

"I think we should be very careful ere we begin assigning blame for Luean's death to Inar or the Seekers," Gaelira said unexpectedly. "As clear as the note Padryc recovered seems to make things, I would urge restraint on judgment until we have all the facts."

"The facts appear plain enough to me," said Nephyn as her cheeks blushed crimson, "Inar could be a Man, an Elf, or a toad for all I care -- Luean's blood is on his hands! Besides, who is to say we ourselves or not being hunted even now, just as Luean was? Did we not come here to aid him, in search of the same things he sought?"

"Are we in danger, then?" I asked, and I began to scan the country surrounding us. Night was not yet fully descended, but the light was rapidly fading and the coming of darkness was once again full of terror for me as I imagined masked, shadowy assassins pursuing us through all the hollows of the hills.

"I am not certain," Gaelira responded after a pause. "It pains me very much to say so, but I think we had best take all precautions. To answer Drodie's earlier questions -- and thereby give you all more knowledge of what we may be facing -- I can tell you that Inar was a divisive figure from the moment he was admitted into the Seekers. While the kinship had always searched Middle-earth to discover the whereabouts of the Seven Stars (which I, to remind you again, have never believed really exist), Inar believed the Stars would only be revealed when the people of Middle-earth proved themselves worthy of the Valar's assistance in the wars against the Enemy. He preaches that the Seven Stars cannot be found by ordinary searching -- how could relics of such fame and power remain hidden since before the Sun and Moon rode through the sky? Such is his reasoning. No, he believes the Stars do exist, but that they are being withheld by Elbereth until the Free Peoples show themselves to be worthy of receiving them, at which time they will be used to destroy Sauron and bring peace to the world. To this end, Inar was constantly urging the Seekers to journey to all corners of Middle-earth performing deeds of worth in the service of others, even to the point of mounting organized and armed resistance against the Enemy's forces, many of which he led himself."

"Ah, so he is an accomplished soldier?" asked Lagodir thoughtfully. "The manner in which he maneuvered himself into the leadership becomes quite clear, then."

"Precisely," Gaelira went on. "In times of war, a warrior has much appeal as a leader. And Inar is no charlatan; he is perhaps the Seekers' most dedicated and valiant knight -- a gifted commander and strategist. However, his determination to act directly against the Enemy in military fashion has created a rift among us in recent years. He had taken to openly criticizing Mallacai for what he saw as the Elves' lack of concern for the mortal races since (in his mind) they would always steer away from direct action to the detriment of his short-lived kind. Over time, he built up something of a following within the Seekers, particularly among non-Elves and those whose lands were threatened by evil. But now it seems things have finally come to a head: Mallacai is either dead or has been driven from the leadership while this dangerous Man has taken power."

"Dangerous, indeed!" said Nephyn, "How else would you describe someone who orders the killing of a stranger for no apparent reason? We must remain on our guard lest we be next, mark my words!"

"Caution would certainly be prudent," said Gaelira, "Yet that is the one thing in all of this which makes the least sense to me -- I have never heard that Inar was a cold-blooded killer, certainly not of any Free Folk."

"Still, power can make a monster out of anyone, Man or Elf, Dwarf or Hobbit," said Lagodir grimly. "And who is Volfren -- the individual to whom the letter was addressed? It would seem to me that he is our cold-blooded killer, though Inar issued him his orders."

"I am not familiar with that name at all," Gaelira answered. "I can only guess he is someone in Inar's service, probably a trusted agent of his -- possibly a Seeker himself, but maybe not."

"If he is so dangerous, why haven't you spoken about him before now?" I asked.

"My association with Inar is not something about which I've ever been proud, and I spoke against his admittance into the kinship," the she-Elf said with a grimace. "He and I agree on virtually nothing, although I do not begrudge him his heroics. I've always thought him to be a sort of warrior-zealot, and I have no time for his ramblings. Besides, there has been no particular reason to discuss him up until now."

"Sounds like nothing more than a madman to me," laughed Drodie. "We should have naught to fear from the likes of him."

"I would warn against being so cavalier about it," Gaelira replied emphatically. "For one thing, Luean's death alone proves we are walking treacherous ground, regardless of who was responsible for his passing. Furthermore, Inar's beliefs may be strange to me and to others, but he holds them fervently, as do his followers. That alone could make him very dangerous."

"I agree with Gaelira," said Lagodir. "A Man of such standing could threaten the peace of whole regions, given the right circumstances. We have seen such things many times among the disparate peoples of my home away in the South-lands."

"There are certainly those who fear Inar intends to raise his own private army and set himself up as tyrant over all the North," said Gaelira, "But I do not think so. I have seen the Man put himself on the front lines in many forays against the Enemy, and a mere pretender would never do such a thing. No, I judge him to be a true believer with sincerely held convictions -- but that may only make him more dangerous, not less, especially if he is now a direct adversary."

There was a long pause in the conversation as each of us mulled over all that we had just learned. Several torches and campfires leapt to life as the Elves of Mirobel concluded their ceremony at the setting of the Sun. The stars were kindled overhead and the music of many instruments could be heard. Into my mind suddenly flashed my last memory of Mallacai when he bade me farewell in the hills of Angmar -- and then promptly vanished. Had he known of his danger even then?

"Then you must decide," came a voice, "What you will do next." I started, for the voice was that of Minasse. There he sat on an elegant stone bench, apart and a little ways behind us. He had said nothing for a very long time, and now I was puzzled to hear him speaking as if he were not a part of our Company. Gaelira nodded slowly.

"Yes," she said, "The time has come for us to make an important choice."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I think," said Nephyn as she eyed Gaelira carefully, "That we shall have to decide whether to continue Luean's work of searching for Narchuil or to attend to Lagodir's need -- to locate one of the gondath, and thereby have a chance of restoring him and destroying the threat of Guloth forever. I believe the Company already knows where I stand on this question."

"I myself will abstain from speaking on the matter," said Lagodir solemnly, "As I cannot be expected to judge impartially. I shall follow the will of the Company."

"As shall I," said Minasse very suddenly. I shot him a look, wondering why he was so eager to be left out of the voting process when he was usually quite outspoken, especially in matters where his own wisdom was concerned.

"As for me," said Drodie, clearly enjoying the opportunity to make his thoughts known, "I say we should find this Inar and deal with him ourselves. Like as not he has plenty of guards, so that should entertain me for a little while at least. In all seriousness: I like not the idea of having my footsteps dogged all across Eriador -- let us put him down like the villain he is and avenge our fallen comrade!"

"I don't know," I said as I pulled on my chin. "Elrond himself said this business with Amarthiel and her Ring may not be ours -- that we might start things while others would finish them. And somehow it just feels right that we should try to help Lagodir, especially since his ordeal is still not really over, when you think about it. I vote that we try to find the gondath, but Heaven help me if I know where to start looking."

"That makes two votes for the gondath and one vote to find Inar," Nephyn summarized for us. "Lagodir and Minasse have both said they will abide by the Company's collective decision, so it is down to you, Gaelira." The she-Elf frowned and blinked several times as she thought.

"I agree with Nephyn and Padryc," she said at last. "The welfare of our friend is of the most importance, and if Guloth were to emerge again he could be nearly as dangerous as Amarthiel herself -- perhaps even more so considering our proximity to him. Still, I believe we must send word to Elrond of what we learned here with Tham Mirdain. I will send Malkan with tidings to Imladris."

"I have a better idea," said Minasse as he stood. "I myself shall bear word to Elrond, which frees Malkan to find Mallacai. The eagle will have a much better chance of locating the Elf since we have no idea where he might have gone, whereas I would know the way to Rivendell through these lands blindfolded and I am perfectly capable of defending myself along the way."

"This counsel seems good to me," said Gaelira. "In such a way we could both inform Lord Elrond of what has transpired while also having a chance to make contact with Mallacai, or at least learn what might have befallen him. Mayhap he would even join our efforts! Let it be as you suggest, Minasse. In the meantime, if we are to pursue the gondath, we shall have to decide where to commence our search. I have an idea about that, and perhaps it will bring our Dwarf some consolation at missing out on a good brawl: I believe we should begin in the deep dark of Moria."

Drodie sat upright, a smoldering fire kindled in his brown eyes, but I shuddered. Despite all of the terrible places I had already been, the idea of going into Moria petrified me. The stories I had heard about those caverns all my life were not the sort of thing anyone would ever tell their children -- every sensible hobbit feared the Black Pit.

"I can see the reason in this," said Lagodir, to my dismay. "Considering Elrond's description of the stones, Moria would be a more logical spot to search for them than most places in Middle-earth. In addition, if we are being tracked by Inar, Volfren, or any of their allies, then disappearing into the darkness of the Dwarf-realm will certainly throw them off our trail -- few would ever go thither willingly."

"And not without good reason," I piped up, but my words went unheeded.

"This certainly is a perilous choice," said Nephyn, her brow knitted together in thought, "But, despite my fear, I agree that it is the right decision."

"I assure you that it is," said Minasse. "Come, let us get started at once."

"Nonsense!" I said, determined to be heard this time. "It's nearly pitch-dark; I'm both tired and hungry. You'll not get me to walk an inch until sunrise at the earliest."

"Padryc is right," said Gaelira. "Our hearts are heavy with the loss of our friend while the road we have chosen shall be fraught with danger. Let us each rest according to their kind, and we will set out with the light of dawn."

"Very well," said Minasse. "We shall be safe enough here from prowlers, if Inar has any agents stalking the hillsides. It will be another day's march before we reach the Walls of Moria. Once we reach them, I will leave you and turn North, toward Imladris."

"But how will we find the doors that are shut?" asked Drodie. "I am no lore-master, not even among my own people: the secrets which guard the West-gate of Khazad-dum are not known to me."

"Ah, but they are known to me," said Minasse with a grin. "I once called Eregion my own home, long before it was laid waste by the Dark Lord. I passed through your West-gate more times than I can recall, for I traded with the Naugrim of Moria in both goods and skill. I shall bestow my knowledge upon you ere we go our separate ways."

"I would dance for joy if only Luean's passing did not prohibit such an exhibition," said Drodie, clearly trying to hold his exultation in check for the sake of decorum. "To think that I shall soon behold the halls of my long-fathers! This is a great gift that you are giving me, Minasse. I would normally begrudge you holding Dwarven knowledge that my own people no longer possess, but the fact that you would freely impart it to me is a great boon, and so I cannot be angry with you."

"Don't be foolish," said Minasse as he looked down at Drodie, but he wore a broad smile. "The manner for entering the West-gate was widely known in my day, for the traffic betwixt our peoples at that time was great indeed. Still, it warms my heart to know this wisdom brings you such happiness, Son of Durin -- may you rejoice at the sights which now await you!" We all settled down for the night and got some much-needed rest.

Hevensday, 2nd of Forelithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Hollin

Gaelira had us up at the first light of dawn. We breakfasted and said our farewells to the Elves before returning to the road and marching along the empty banks of the Nan Sirannon all day. Nothing hindered our passing, but I always felt as though we were being watched; I kept glancing over my shoulder, but of course there was nothing to see. At the end of the day we arrived at the same tumbled ruins we had seen the day before and made our camp there. Minasse said he would remain with us through the night and depart for Rivendell in the morning. Nephyn busied herself with the making of a fire while Gaelira conversed with Malkan the eagle, whom she had summoned earlier. The bird was being instructed to try and locate Mallacai and inform him of our situation, but there was little hope of finding him in all the vastness of Eriador. Drodie, meanwhile, wouldn't stop talking about the wonders of Moria, and we eventually had to quiet him out of concern for safety -- the wilds were deadly silent all around and it made the rest of us uneasy.

We had a good supper together and passed the time recounting the more incredible parts of our journey together so far. As I sit here writing about today's happenings, though, my eye is constantly drawn off the page to stare at the great stone archway which lies just a short distance east along the road... the road into Moria. The space under that arch is black in the night air, as if it were the entrance to Khazad-dum itself -- a yawning cavern of impenetrable darkness from which no one ever returns.

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 57

Farewell to a Friend

Sterday, 30th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Last Homely House, Rivendell

The Ruins at Tham Mirdain

Today marks one week since Lagodir was returned to his senses by the arts of Master Elrond. The past seven days have been a wonderful rest which all of us have needed for some time. I myself have been spending a lot of it in the Hall of Fire, but I also get out into the valley and even among the High Moors on occasion when the desire takes me. There was a great feast in our honour last night (that being the first day poor Lagodir was really able to get out of bed for any length of time), during which we celebrated his slow recovery and the fall of the Balrog in the North. I had an absolutely smashing time: the Elves are bright-eyed and keen-witted, the music is as sumptuous as the food, Old Mr. Bilbo is still as pleasant as ever, and Rivendell continues to be quite possibly my favourite place in all of Middle-earth.

My friends have been spending their time here in rather more productive ways than I, so far as I can tell, but to be honest I've not seen a terrible lot of them lately, except Nephyn. The young huntress always makes it a point to see me in the morning and again before bedtime at night, but I think it is mainly just to keep an eye on me. I know she had inquired around the valley the day after we had visited Lagodir as to whether Gloin or any of his folk had returned to Imladris from their errand to Dain at the Lonely Mountain (from our last visit, if you happen to recall), but there had been no word as yet. From what Neph told me this fact had disquieted the other Dwarves who were guests in the valley, but there was little they or anyone else could do about it.

Tomorrow will be the first of Thrimidge and marks the fourth month of our companionship.

Sunday, 8th of Thrimidge, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Last Homely House, Rivendell

Another week has passed and Lagodir's improvement is now quite noticeable. He is up and about on his own and looking stronger by the day. It's amazing what just being here in Rivendell can do for someone in need of recuperation.

I've noticed Minasse coming and going from the valley a few times over the past two weeks. Once I asked what he was about and he just said he couldn't bear to be idle, even in Imladris, so long as the servants of the Enemy were abroad in the Wild. I would sometimes see him and Gaelira conferring with the Sons of Elrond, and I suppose they were discussing the movement of hostile forces in the regions surrounding us. So much the better, if we are going to be setting out sometime soon.

Sterday, 14th of Thrimidge, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Last Homely House, Rivendell

Today I was informed that we would be leaving Rivendell again, probably within the next few days. Lagodir has recovered to the point where he has been training with Elrohir using mock weapons, and I must say he's exhibiting himself quite well considering what he's been through. Even still, I hope we won't be forced to put his condition to the test any time soon. There's hope we shan't, since ours is supposed to be a mission of fact-finding and secrecy -- to locate Luean in the ruins of Eregion and (if it can also be managed) to learn anything about the mysterious gondath which might be used to exorcise Guloth and destroy him forever. I'm not sure how much longer we will have here in the Last Homely House, but I will try to enjoy every moment I can.

Highday, 20th of Thrimidge, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Last Homely House, Rivendell

I'm told we will leave for Eregion tomorrow morning, so I have a few things to check on if I'm to be ready in time. Lagodir is doing wonderfully, though he has changed and isn't really his old self. He seems more melancholy even than before, but his eyes are still as defiant as ever. I should also point out that he's received a trim and looks quite the different Man than when I first met him. He still has the same sharp and handsome features, but his hair has greyed and he now sports a short beard as well. He's also less broad in the arms and shoulders after lying abed for a couple of weeks, but I'm sure his body will remember its strength after a few days back on the road with the rest of us.

We held another audience with Elrond today in the late afternoon. I was prepared to write down everything which was said there, but in the end it was a lot of what we (and you) have heard already: our objective was to find and assist Luean in Eregion and learn whatever there was to learn about the Ring Narchuil. Along the way we hoped to uncover anything about the gondath, the shadow-stones, which could be the key to finally ridding the world of Guloth's spirit. Beyond that there was mostly just talk about the known movements of Angmar's minions in the lands about, so naturally we would be doing what we could to avoid them. I also learned that Gaelira had asked Malkan the eagle to scout the regions to the south for any sign of Luean, but he had returned this morning with no tidings of his whereabouts, only that enemies had been sighted in Hollin north of the Sirannon. Elrond advised us to keep a low profile and seek first amidst the ruins of Tham Mirdain; an old Elf-college which was situated somewhere in the southwestern area of Eregion, as Luean had indicated in his message to us that he would likely begin his own search there.

Finally, the six of us were given every manner of assistance you could ask for with regards to preparing for the road ahead. Our backs were filled, our clothes were mended, and our hopes were raised. Drodie had been to the valley's forge-smiths earlier in the week where his armour and shield had been repaired to excellent condition. He didn't much care for the idea of Elves working on his equipment, but I'm told he was permitted to "oversee" the process and was content that the work was performed "up to Dwarven standards," as he put it. Nephyn re-filled her quiver, Minasse outfitted himself with some exquisite Elven armour but still took no weapons, and even I had my little dagger sharpened and whetted despite my protestations that I manage it on my own. Not that I really had any objection, mind you, but I'm not used to being waited on by others, if you understand me.

I'm lying in bed now listening to the night-sounds outside my window. I wish to goodness I was not leaving again, but if there's a chance of really saving Lagodir and also of seeing old Luean again, then I suppose I can screw myself up to it once more. Besides, after we went willingly into Carn Dum itself not expecting (I wasn't, at least) to return, so when looked at in context you'd have to say this next quest of ours should be nothing by comparison!

Sterday, 21st of Thrimidge, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The High Moor, Somewhere in the Trollshaws

We were up and fed early today, then we assembled on the front porch of Elrond's House. The sky was high and blue yesterday, but something had happened during the night and now it was grey, overcast, and altogether icky -- rain looked to be in the offing almost for certain.

This, combined with the early rise and the prospect of leaving Rivendell behind again, had me in something of a foul mood. I did my best not to show it and I kept reminding myself that we would, hopefully, be meeting up with Luean at some point in the near future. I had always liked the Elf-scholar, with he and I becoming fairly fast friends second, I think, only to Nephyn. It was the thought of seeing him again which had made the idea of tramping through the Wild once more bearable.

As expected, we were met on the porch by Elrond himself, who wished us good speed and good fortune in our hunt. There was little more to say which had not already been hashed through multiple times prior, so the talk was kept short. Two points of interest which I noted at the time: first, Malkan had come to see us off, but he was flying on ahead south toward Eregion to once again see if he couldn't spy some indication of where Luean might be. I felt better knowing that we had helpful eyes in the sky once more and perhaps the eagle might end up doing the lion's share of the work for us, as it were. Second, we saw that Elrond had presented Lagodir with a set of fine Elven armour as well as a new sword which had been forged for him during our stay in his house, for his own gear had been damaged beyond repair in Angmar. The armour was of traditional Elven make, and so it appeared rather odd on the Gondorian's large frame (to my mind, anyway), while the sword was a wondrous sight: it was a large, two-handed blade; curved, as the Fair Folk often prefer their weapons, and set about with gold tracings and bright amaranthine gems in the hilt. It, too, struck me as not at all Lagodir's style, but he wore them both with immense pride and said no word against the gifts.

When all was finally made ready, we said our farewells to Elrond and his household, then made to depart Rivendell. We had only just crossed the stone bridge and begun our ascent out of the valley when thunder rolled across the moors and a light rain began to fall. I sighed audibly.

"We couldn't have picked a better time to leave, could we?" I grumbled. "Rain when we arrive and rain again when we depart! Oughtn't we to have taken a vote on this?"

"Gone soft so soon, Master Hobbit?" mocked Drodie from behind me. "Anyone would have thought you could stand a little shower such as this after everything we've been through up to now. Or have silken beds and warm hearths weakened your resolve already? I hear no sound of complaint coming from Lagodir, mark you, and he just back from the brink of death, no less."

I clammed up right away and eyed the Gondorian, who was ahead of me in the file. He was climbing the road out of Imladris, but he was already breathing heavily. I thought to ask whether we should be subjecting him to the inclement weather as well as the steep climb out of the valley so soon, but I considered Lagodir would know his own limitations. Besides, I didn't want to sound as if I was looking for some excuse to turn back, so I decided to hold my tongue.

Once we emerged from the valley we only went a few more miles before Lagodir was obliged to rest, though I was happy for the opportunity myself. The rain had continued, though it was of the gentle Spring variety and so not entirely unpleasant. We took shelter under a thicket of young chestnut-trees, but this proved less than optimal because the long, pointed leaves seemed ideally suited for funneling the raindrops down on top of us. After only about ten minutes we decided to move on again, and we covered several more miles before the rain finally let up and dusk began to enter the sky. We made camp on the edge of the High Moor, looking down toward the Ford of Bruinen far below us. The clouds were swept away and the stars leapt into the heavens as we all enjoyed our evening meal. We were trying to keep our passing as secret as possible, so there was very little talk among ourselves for fear of being overhead in the lonely hills. I fell asleep while covertly watching Lagodir lying on his back and staring up at them, as though he was trying to count every single one.

Sunday, 22nd of Thrimidge, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Along the Banks of the Bruinen, Somewhere in the Trollshaws

The weather cleared last night then turned fine and hot today. We crossed the Bruinen without incident, then turned southward and continued along the river-banks. We took long and numerous rests throughout the day because Lagodir was clearly still recovering from his ordeal, though he himself would not admit to it. Because of this and the rough terrain we did not cover much distance today. I spotted some rock-worms eyeing us hungrily from the far side of the river, but they didn't seem eager to brave the swift currents and let us pass unmolested.

Monday, 23rd of Thrimidge, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Hollin

There is little to report from today's efforts. We came upon some tumbled old cottage in the early morning, but there was nothing of interest to see, so we passed it by. It was well into the afternoon when we came upon a road climbing upward. This we followed a ways, over a log-bridge, and down into a shallow gorge before emerging from it in the early evening. A sweet, tangy smell entered my nostrils and I breathed it deeply.

"Welcome to Eregion!" said Gaelira joyously. "Or, as the Men of the North term it, Hollin, land of the holly-trees. Ah! I had nearly forgotten their reinvigorating scent!"

"I could never forget it," said Minasse, his eyes shining eagerly. "Ever did that fragrance greet me when I journeyed here of old -- the realm of my lord Celebrimbor, most excellent in all of Middle-earth that remains since the loss of Gondolin, and once my home."

We camped that night beneath the holly-trees and I rejoiced in the sight of their emerald leaves and vermillion fruits, studded like so many minute rubies among the branches overhead.

Trewsday, 24th of Thrimidge, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Hollin

All day we travelled under the boughs of the holly-trees, maintaining our southerly course. The foliage was so thick and the canopy so complete that it became difficult to know exactly where we were going, but we trusted that the holly-forest would eventually end, and so it did.

It was early evening by the time we finally broke free from the trees only to discover that we had somehow turned too far to the east: the white heads of the Misty Mountains, which should have been to our left, had swung in front of us as we were facing to the southwest. We used what little daylight remained to us to correct our bearings and make up for lost time in the morning. Lagodir appears to be doing much better ever since we got out of the Trollshaws and onto more even ground.

Hevensday, 25th of Thrimidge, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Hollin

Nothing significant to report today... we turned south and marched hard all day, but this part of Hollin is pocked with these little natural ditches that have a way of throwing themselves right in your path in the most annoying fashion. This forces you to scramble down them and back up the other side over and over until you are positively knackered. It was hard enough for me, but Lagodir was not taking the exertion well at all and we were forced to slow our advance for his sake. We ended up camping at the bottom of one of these little gutters, which kept the wind from stealing your blanket and helped me to sleep very soundly indeed.

Mersday, 26th of Thrimidge, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Hollin

More marching. It turned out we had very nearly reached the end of the ditches yesterday, though we did not know it at the time. There were only a few more to scramble through before they ceased altogether and we had a much easier time moving forward. Around noon we could spy a tall hill in the distance to the southeast which was crowned with trees. I suggested we might scale it and have a look-about, but Gaelira insisted we would only make ourselves an easy mark for any unfriendly eyes, so we did not go that way.

Before I forget: Malkan returned to us this evening and, through Gaelira, we learned that he had seen no sign of Luean in all the leagues of Eregion he had covered from the air. We thanked him for his efforts and Gaelira begged that he bring news of us to Elrond in Rivendell. The bird departed soon after we had fed him some food from our bags and given him some water to drink. I wonder how he manages it with all the errand-running we put his poor wings through.

Highday, 27th of Thrimidge, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Hollin

The clouds had become heavy overhead, but it never turned to rain. There was something ominous about the dawn today, although nothing seemed out of the ordinary. We continued our march in silence and every footstep seemed to echo in the earth.

That tree-crowned hill continued to loom closer and closer and once I fancied I caught the howling of wolves borne to me on an easterly breeze from its direction. I found myself thankful Gaelira had spoken against us going toward it, and suddenly I felt myself very exposed, as if we were surrounded by hostile forces that were hunting us in all the crannies of the plains.

As the day drew near its close we descended into a shallow dell out of which rose a single upright rock which thrust skyward like a finger. We camped at its base and wondered how many more days it might take to reach Tham Mirdain, wherever that was, exactly. Nephyn, Lagodir, and I were strangers in this land, but Gaelira and Minasse seemed to know our course.

"We continue southward until we strike the Sirannon, the Gate-stream," Minasse was saying. "Then we simply follow it west until we reach the region of Mirobel, near which lies Tham Mirdain. It cannot be missed for there was once a bridge which spanned the Sirannon from south to north, and even if that bridge has long-since fallen it was of such a size that there must even now be some remnants which will speak to its location, and that of the college as well."

"We should be drawing near to the river," said Nephyn as she poured over one of her maps. "Judging from our location relative to that hilltop yonder, I'd say we ought to strike it sometime late tomorrow."

"I need no map," said Drodie as he gazed toward the southeast and pointed with the blade of his axe. "There lie the three Mountains of Moria: Barazinbar, Bundulshathur, and Zirka-zigil! Beneath them lies Khazad-dum, greatest kingdom of my people."

"Moria?" I asked. "Even I have heard the dark whispers about Moria. Surely we're not planning on getting anywhere near that place, are we?"

"Not by design, no," said Gaelira. "I remember that Tham Mirdain was a day's journey along the Sirannon road west, away from the Walls of Moria."

"At least a day's journey," Minasse cut in, "Quite possibly a little further, as I recall it."

"There you are, Padryc," said Gaelira with a smile. "We shall be in no danger of accidentally getting you enmeshed in the net of Moria. Come! Help me gather some dry branches and leaves for the making of a fire -- we shall all be glad of the warmth if this wind turns to chill during the night."

Sterday, 28th of Thrimidge, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Hollin

We made good time in the morning, but by noon we were climbing a steep ridge of rock-clay and our progress was slowed considerably. Nephyn and I had wanted to search east or west for a smoother slope to scale, but Gaelira insisted that we continue in a straight line. The result was an exhausting morning, though the good news was Lagodir seemed to handle the effort better than I had expected; perhaps his strength was returning to him in some measure.

Once we were all atop the ridge, we saw that the ground fell away from us in a gentle but rocky slope toward what looked to be an ancient and once much-used roadway. Gaelira gave a cry of exclamation.

"Ah! See, we have once again come to far to the east. There is the archway which marked the end of the Noldorin lands and the beginning of the Walls of Moria. I remember well the Elf-ruins we see there now just outside that gateway: they were tall and proud once, but now they are fallen into rubble. What bittersweet memories these sights bring back to me!"

"And yonder lies the Sirannon," said Minasse with a point of his finger. "Or, rather, there it lay, once, only there seems to be no sign of it now! Let us go and see what has become of her happy song!"

We hurried down the slope toward the dry river-bed Minasse had sighted. Sure enough, there was hardly a trickle of water to be seen in the basin. The Elves wondered greatly at this, but I found myself impishly tickled by their confusion.

"Well!" I said with a chuckle, "At least now we needn't worry about whether or not Minasse's mighty bridge is still standing! Even if Time has reduced it to naught but pebbles we shan't have to swim: a hobbit-lass of two summers could ford this river!"

"Could there be some evil at work in this land, do you think?" asked Gaelira, ignoring my jest. "What might have caused the Sirannon to cease her cheerful singing? It pains my heart to know its sounds are stilled after all these centuries."

"The weather, perhaps?" Drodie said with a shrug. "Mayhap some storm shook loose a few boulders which fell and blocked the source? You can get big storms up in the mountains. I think we ought to go and have a look: I could lead us all the way to the Stair Falls! You follow this path until it climbs a set of beautifully carved steps and from there you can see the magnificent --"

"No you don't!" said Nephyn as she playfully shoved the Dwarf by the shoulder. "No making excuses to see your people's long-lost realm! We did not come all this way to go sight-seeing."

"Nephyn is right, Drodie," Lagodir said, "Our mission is to find Luean and assist him in his task. I do not think he would have gone into Moria, unless something dire happened to him that we cannot see. Let us search westward!"

We travelled along the Sirannon-road for a short distance, but we were all tired after the morning's climb, so we eventually made camp a short distance off the path. Gaelira asked that we light no fire, and she stood gazing off into the night while the rest of us spoke in hushed voices.

Sunday, 29th of Thrimidge, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Mirobel, Somewhere in the Land of Hollin

The day was long and dull: all we did was march, march, and march some more along the Sirannon-road. The Walls of Moria faded into the Spring-haze behind us while out in front the landscape seemed to stretch on endlessly forever. Then, just as dusk was entering the sky, we could make out the a tall, curving shape on the horizon.

"There!" said Minasse triumphantly as he pointed. "There stands the bridge into Mirobel! Even after all of these long years it still stands -- a testament to the ingenuity of the Noldor."

"The supports could be better contrived," said Drodie as he squinted at the bridge.

"Nonsense! How could you possibly tell that at such a distance?" Minasse asked heatedly.

"It's an Elf-bridge," Drodie answered with a mischievous grin. "What's more, the height of the arch seems to me rather -- how shall I say it? -- pretentious." Minasse did not speak to Drodie again for a long while after that.

Monday, 30th of Thrimidge, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Mirobel, Somewhere in the Land of Hollin

It did not take long to cover the remaining distance to the bridge. Once across it, we found ourselves in an impressive set of ruins which covered one entire side of a tall rock-spire. Within it, we were surprised to find many Elves! They were led by a stern-faced fellow named Maegamiel, but he welcomed us kindly. We learned that the college of Tham Mirdain was nearby and that it had two major structures: the School, which lay a little ways to the southeast on the side of a hill, and the Library, which could be reached by descending a short path and fording a stream. What's more, we were told that Luean had indeed come that way and spent time at that very camp!

"Yes, he was among us for nearly three weeks," Maegamiel told us. "He would disappear into the School or the Library at first light and we would not see him again, sometimes for days. He never did say what he sought, but we did not hinder him for he claimed to be on an errand from Lord Elrond himself."

"He spoke the truth," said Gaelira. "But where is he now? You speak as if you have not seen him for some time."

"It is true, we have not," Maegamiel replied. "It has been at least four days, now that I consider... possibly a week? I am not certain since we have our own business here in Mirobel which demands my constant attention. However, if you were to search the School and the Library I suspect you would find your friend within one of those places -- whatever manner of relics he seeks, there are many and great varieties in to be found at both sites. Be I must warn you: servants of the Enemy have been seen recently in these lands, so you should go warily. I hope no ill luck has befallen your friend, but we did not think to search for him since he would often vanish for days at a time and we never knew if he meant to return here. Moreover, as you yourselves can plainly see, my people are no warriors."

We thanked Maegamiel several times and quickly laid our plans: Gaelira, Minasse, and Drodie would search the School while Lagodir, Nephyn, and I would scour the Library, then we would meet back at Echad Mirobel before sunset. Without further ado, we split into our respective parties and began the search.

My group found the Library without difficulty and proceeded inside with purpose. It was an old and musty building, the rich engravings on mossy stone mostly crumbling into obscurity, but the majesty of its former inhabitants still shone through. Of much greater concern to us, however, were the Orcs.
Orcs and goblins, to be more exact. They were not numerous nor were they well-armed, and they mostly fled before the bow of Nephyn and the sword of Lagodir (even in his weakened state the Man could summon the will to strike down his enemies at need). We slew only a handful before the rest vacated the place, leaving it to us. A few of their kind bore strange badges: a small white feather (or maybe it was a hand?) on a black background, but none of us knew what it might convey so we decided to save one and ask the others about it later.

With the Library yielded to us by the Orcs, we started to sift through the rubble for any sign of Luean. Hours passed, but nothing presented itself to us -- just walls full of moulding tomes and crinkly scrolls. Some of these looked like they might have been taken out and looked over, but it was impossible to tell how recently or whether it might not have just been some of the Orcs causing mischief. Finally, with the Sun sinking toward the West, we decided we would have to return to Mirobel and share our uninspiring report with the others. We were just heading out of the Library when I noticed two side-rooms which we had missed during our search.

"Oh, look!" I said, "It wouldn't do to search the rest of this place floor to ceiling but leave these two rooms untouched. Let's have a quick peek before we go. You two take that one and I'll take the one over here."

"By yourself?" asked Nephyn as I scampered off to investigate the room on my side. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"Oh, poo," I said loud enough for her to hear me. "It's less than a stone's throw from yours. Besides, it's been dead quiet in here since we drove the Orcs out, so what could possibly go wr -- AAAAH!!!"

"Padryc!" Nephyn shouted as she and Lagodir came running toward me. "What happened?"

"It's -- it's -- " I pointed a trembling hand into a rubble-strewn corner of the small room.

It was Luean. He was dead.

"No," breathed Nephyn. "Oh, no..."

His scholar's robes were covered with marks from old, dried blood and there was no colour in face as his lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling. The body was partly buried in loose debris, but even at first glance one could see he had been slain by a number of blade-strokes. Nephyn quickly knelt and closed Luean's eyes while tears sprang into my own. I thought of how we had first met and his unfailing kindness toward me. I remembered his strange and aloof way of looking at the world, his love of riddles and his curious sense of humour. I seemed impossible to know that unique and gentle soul had been removed from the world, but my eyes were not deceiving me, no matter how much I wished that they were.

"May you find peace with your kindred beyond the Great Sea," Nephyn whispered. Lagodir bowed his head and I wept.

"What shall we do now?" I asked in a croaking voice after a short time. "We can't leave him here in this rubbish."

"Indeed not," said Lagodir. "Among my people 'tis said the way of Elves is to inter them in the earth but to also build a cairn of stone over them. If that is so, then we should have no shortage of stone, for it is plentiful in this ruin. It would seem fitting to me, also, that the stones of this place be used for such a purpose, if he was a lover of knowledge as you have always described him to be."

"He was that," said Nephyn, "And I think that his grave should be just beyond the gates to the Library, on the banks of the stream which flows by the entrance here."

"I agree," I said, "Though we should probably tell the others as well as the Elves back in Mirobel. They might best know how to lay him to rest, don't you think?"

"You are right," said Lagodir. "Come, I am weary, but I have strength enough left for this task -- I will carry him."

"I will help you," said Nephyn as she made to lift the Elf on his final journey.

"And I will make sure no debris blocks your path," I said. "The last thing we want is for a solemn procession to be interrupted by an -- OW!"

"Now what?" asked Nephyn.

"It's nothing," I said as I reached down to rub my toe. "Just stubbed my foot on that beastly rock there. Hullo? What have we here?" I had noticed a small scrap of paper on the floor which seemed rather out of place. I scanned it quickly, then my mouth fell open as I read it again.

"What?" asked Nephyn. "Padryc, what is it?"

"Nothing," I said quickly as I jammed the note into my pocket. "At least, let's not talk about it now -- not until we have laid Luean to rest. Besides, Gaelira is going to want to see it too, that much I can promise you."

We bore Luean's body from the Library and lay him by the banks of the stream in the light of the setting Sun. Lagodir and I remained there on guard while Nephyn returned to Mirobel to inform the Elves of what had happened. A short time later (for it was not a very great distance), we could see a line of people approaching. It was the Elves of Mirobel, and they were walking in a funereal procession while singing the most enchanting and sorrowful music I think I've ever heard. They reached us just as the Sun set; it was then we saw Nephyn and Gaelira, Minasse, and Drodie were with her. The six of us stood off to one side as Maegamiel led his people in a solemn ceremony during which Luean's body was interred in the earth. Then, the procession snaked into the Library and brought small stones from within which were laid atop the grave to form a cairn. When it was all over, night was fully descended and Luean was at rest. We joined the Elves in their slow march back to their camp at Mirobel.

Once there we thanked Maegamiel for honouring Luean in such a manner. He smiled grimly and nodded his head.

"We did not know him, but he seemed full of life and purpose," he said, "And it pains me to see another of our kin thus ended. You have made it clear from your talk that at least some of you knew him well, and so I will leave you now to your own thoughts. Namarie."

With Maegamiel gone, our Company spoke of how we remembered Luean while he was among us. Minasse kept silent, for he had not known the Elf-scholar, but he showed great respect for our feelings and our memories during that time, which I greatly appreciated. We also asked Gaelira whether she, Minasse, and Drodie had discovered anything of value in the School of Tham Mirdain, but they had not -- only more Orcs.

"They were a weak lot and did not withstand us at all," said Drodie. "I could have taken them all myself, of course, but I decided to let these two have their fun as well."

"The sight of Orcs in that place burned my heart," said Minasse. "The slow decay of Time I can stand, but such defilement was not to be borne."

"Certainly not," said Gaelira, "Though our time there proved fruitless except to rout the foul folk from within. But tell me: how did Luean die?"

"Surely it was the Orcs," said Lagodir. "What other cause could there have been? He was clearly covered in sword-wounds."

"I am not so certain, Lagodir," said Nephyn unexpectedly. "He was far too clever to allow himself to be taken unawares. And we have still not heard from Padryc and the secret he has decided to withhold from us."

"What is this?" asked Gaelira, and the rest of the Company also turned to me with great interest.

A felt a pit cratering in my stomach as I looked into the she-Elf's face; many unpleasant memories were flooding back to me, for I knew what I must do next. From my pocket I drew out the small scrap of paper I had found as we were carrying Luean from the Library.

"I found this near the body," I said. "I will reveal it to you all now, for the first time." I cleared my throat and read these words aloud:

Volfren,

We are told the Elf-scholar has gone to Hollin to search the ruins in the South. Find him, learn what he knows, then do what you must.

Signed,

INAR
Supreme Leader of the
Seekers of the Seven Stars

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 56

The Room of Rest

Sterday, 23rd of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Last Homely House, Rivendell

Lagodir's bed in the Room of Rest

I'm told I slept straight through to the next afternoon as if I hadn't a care in the world. No doubt it was all of this adventure -- combined with limited commons, extensive marching, hunting spectres, and fighting pitched battles -- which simply wore me down. But beyond that, there is something very special about Rivendell and I'm finding it hard to describe to those who have never been here. For one thing, it's rather hard to keep awake in this valley until you get used to doing it and if you're so exhausted you cannot keep awake or have simply lost the will to do so, then all I can suggest is to ensure you have a deep feather pillow ready to hand.

I am always inclined to write glowingly about the Valley of the Elves (all the more so when we're fortunate enough to be guests here), but I shall have to forego that ritual this time as quite a lot happened today. I had only been up and about for a few hours -- having been treated to a fine meal and hobnobbed plenty with my companions -- when we were approached by a tall Elf with a very melodious voice. He introduced himself as Lindir, a member of Elrond's household, and he informed us that the Lord Elrond wished to see us in his study regarding a most important matter. My friends were all relieved to hear this for (so they told me) Elrond had disappeared shortly after we entered Imladris and no one had seen him since. Gaelira was clearly becoming worried that we had somehow offended him or that he was wroth with our Company's shortcomings in Angmar, but it turned out to not be the case at all.

Elrond's "study" could easily pass for a full-sized building in its own right, stuffed as it was from floor to ceiling with lore of all sorts. I stared at the towering shelves of ancient texts -- wondering what kinds of exciting tales they might contain -- as the five of us approached the elf-lord. Gaelira did him a courtesy and spoke on behalf of us all, as she was wont to do in that place.

"Hail, Lord Elrond!" she said with only the slightest waver of the voice betraying her nervousness. "You summoned us and we have come to you. How may we serve you in repayment of your most excellent hospitality?" Elrond waved his hand.

"You are welcome in my house always, brave adventurers," he said, "Including this newest companion who travels with you. A Noldor, unless I am much mistaken, and a most unusual travelling companion. Still, such things are to be expected when one wanders the wide world, as you have done. All that you have accomplished is already known to me, my friends, and I ask that you be at peace concerning the results of your efforts -- not all is as dark as it may seem. Truly, much good is often done in tandem with our own actions, though we may know it not."

"But our actions and efforts have failed," said Drodie unexpectedly. "We were not able to recover the palantir, and succeeded only in supplanting one would-be tyrant with another."

"And yet Angmar is at the least momentarily divided and confused, but of these matters we shall speak soon enough," said Elrond with a kind smile. "First, I should tell you something that will bring you great happiness: your friend, Lagodir of Gondor, is here and in my keeping."

All of us were overcome with joy at this news and of course we all wished to see him that instant, but Elrond waited patiently and calmed us in our exuberance.

"You shall see him as soon as may be," he said, "But not just yet. He is extremely weak -- even now I am allowing myself only a few brief moments with you before I minister to him again -- but rest is what he needs most. Indeed, in his current state I am not certain he would even recognize you. He was found on the borders of this land not two days past. I am told he was wayward and not in his right mind, so my servants subdued him and brought him here. I, of course, was otherwise occupied in the Ettenmoors at the time, but that is another curious subject of which we have no time to speak just now."

"Then what can you tell us of him?" begged Nephyn. "Surely we, who hunted him all across the length and breadth of Eriador are deserving of some explanation!" She quickly blushed at her own effrontery, but Elrond took no offence at her words, for he knew they were borne of concern for her companion.

"Of course," he said, "I shall tell you what I know and what haste permits. As some among you know already, the Enemy has long infused the corpses of the dead with malevolent spirits which animate those forms and give them the appearance of the Dead returned. These, of course, are only counterfeits, but this matters little to mortals who have the misfortune to behold them. In this way did Sauron earn himself the name of necromancer in days gone by. But Guloth, an undead wraith in the Dark Lord's service, sought instead to inhabit the body of one still living, a blasphemy so foul I do not believe I have ever heard the like of it before. And in so doing, both Guloth and Lagodir found themselves confronted with... challenges, the like of which I think no others have ever contended."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "What is it Guloth was trying to do to him?"

"I am not certain Guloth intended to possess Lagodir's body to do anything to him. At least, not if by that you mean the wraith's sole purpose was to harm Lagodir in especial. No, from what I have learned of Guloth in the time I have spent in his company through your friend, I see his was an ambition of immense proportions. I believe his purpose was to possess the body of a living soul with the aim of supplanting that soul and taking command of the body with the ultimate objective of worming himself free of Sauron's domination. These undead who walk beneath the Sun are thralls to their Master's will, but some may, I think, seek to free themselves from it. There were rumours in years long past that the Witch-king himself once pursued this very end, though he failed. It may be that Guloth, so enamored of his own power over the living, sought to separate himself from Sauron's oppression then become a Power in his own right. And it may be that he saw possession of a strong soul such as Lagodir to be the key in achieving his dream, but things clearly did not go according to plan."

"No, indeed!" said Drodie. "We saw what happened when Guloth tried to strike down Padryc in Angmar -- we believe it was Lagodir who stopped him from landing his stroke. But what exactly happened within Lagodir? How can two minds occupy the same body at the same time?"

"This phenomenon is, as far as I can recall, unique in my experience," Elrond answered, "And so I could not tell you. For what it is worth, my own belief is that such a perversion would not be permitted to continue for long, and perhaps that is how Lagodir came to partially subdue his tormentor. Whether it was Lagodir or Guloth who made his feet carry them to this valley and whether they had any clear purpose in mind I cannot say, but at some point one would have overcome the other. The physical and mental toll of this, however, would have eventually either slain Lagodir's body or overthrown his mind."

"But will live?" asked Nephyn eagerly.

"I have hope that he will," said Elrond, "Though I am unsure as to his state, for things are still very precariously balanced; there is much more I must do for him even now. Therefore, I ask that you be patient during the treatment. You are welcome to do as you will in my house in the meantime, and I shall send for you when he awakens."

Elrond quickly left us and we five returned to the main courtyard since we had very clearly been dismissed. The hours from that point were slow and dreadful, for we always expected someone to come running and tell us that Lagodir had breathed his last. But the day drag on into the night and we heard no news.

Sunday, 24th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Last Homely House, Rivendell

This morning was much the same as yesterday with the interminable waiting and long hours. I made it a point to see Old Mr. Bilbo again, though the conversation wasn't as lively as before since I was on pins and needles about Lagodir the whole time. But then, just as the old hobbit was regaling me with the story about how he had first discovered Sting (for the second time), Drodie's bearded face popped through the door to tell me that Lagodir was awake and Elrond had called for us! I jumped up and nearly forgot to take proper leave of the venerable Mr. Baggins, but he merely waved me out the door.

"No point in standing on ceremony, lad," he said, "Just you off and do what Master Elrond wants, and be quick about it!"

We were all quick about it, and very soon Elrond's grave face was looking us over once more from within his study. It occurred to me briefly that he was looking for something among us, but just as I became aware of the feeling he spoke.

"Your patience has been rewarded, my friends. Lagodir is going to live."

We all cheered with relief, but Elrond held up his hand.

"He will live," he said again, "But I am not certain in what manner. I was able to suppress the spirit of Guloth such that the Gondorian is once again in control of his faculties, but as I have said before now this malady is one with which I have had no direct experience. I cannot say whether Guloth might be able to re-surface again, although I think it will be some time before he might be able to try. The fact that he could, at any time in the future, is a cause for great concern. The wraith's power is greatly lessened, yet his will does remain."

"Then what can we do for him?" I asked, crestfallen.

"I have given this much thought," came Elrond's answer. "And there may yet be hope. Like you, I would see Guloth destroyed and removed from the world altogether, but to do so would require the use of certain artefacts which have not resided in Rivendell for many, many centuries."

"Name them!" Nephyn exclaimed, her eyes bright with defiance.

"They are called the gondath, the shadow-stones, and they have always been quite rare objects. At some forgotten time in ages past, Elven-smiths discovered how to imbue suitable gems with certain properties which enabled them to attract and hold the essences of unseen things. It was a distant glimmer of the ancient Feanorian craft which brought so much sorrow to the world, but perhaps their time has finally come to aid the Free Peoples and not harm them. I believe that, if you could somehow recover one of these artefacts and bring it to me, then I should be able to destroy Guloth forever."

I could sense the spines of everyone in the Company stiffen. I myself felt like a cornered hound ready to fight to the last end of my strength.

"Unfortunately," Elrond continued with a sigh, "I cannot say where you might find such a rare object, nor even where to begin looking. But you have proven yourselves to be clever and resourceful, and so I will leave it in your capable hands."

"We will do as you ask," said Gaelira. "Will Lagodir be required to remain here while we journey abroad?"

"The Man must rest for now, but once he has recovered he may be fit enough to accompany you on this new quest," the elf-lord replied. "Although I should caution he is not likely to be in fighting form: this trial very nearly extinguished his spirit. But now we must discuss other matters. Gaelira has already told me how the palantir which Guloth stole from Mordirith was not found on Lagodir when you overtook him in Angmar. We both hope the Seeing-stone was lost in the Rift when that cavern collapsed in the ruin of Thaurlach, but I fear that is not what happened. I understand that you tracked Guloth to Barad Gularan at one point, but it was clear he did not enter that place. Instead, he treated with a small person which had unshod feet. I fear this was none other than Sara Oakheart -- or, more exactly, the one who now possesses Sara Oakheart's deceased body. Amarthiel has returned."

"Furthermore," Elrond continued, "I believe that Guloth had realized by this time that his attempts to overcome Lagodir's will were not going as planned, and so he may have surrendered the palantir to Amarthiel at Barad Gularan."

"This may be assuming a bit too much," said Minasse, and I was surprised at the High Elf's forthrightness.

"Perhaps," said Elrond cooly, "But recent events bear out my suspicion. Consider: how did the Orcs of Ongbishuk know to attack Gabilshathur on the very evening of your arrival there, and how did they know to rescue Lagodir who, by all outward appearances, was nothing but a Man and an enemy to them? Also, how was it the trolls of the Ettenmoors came to assault Rivendell -- drawing me away from here -- while another force led by Ningrat suddenly appeared to attack the Ford of Bruinen?"

I hadn't thought about these three events as being linked before, but now that he had laid it all out like that I had to admit is was rather curious.

"These are not accidents," said Elrond. "No, I believe that Amarthiel now holds the palantir and is using it to coordinate her attacks on us. Unless we can find some way to end her or to recover the orb from her, then our danger is increased manifold. But perhaps it will not fall to you to do these things. In any case, there is now a short period of doubt and confusion that we must use to maximum effect. Like Guloth, Amarthiel cannot hope to command all the hordes of Angmar at once -- she will need time to consolidate her position. But there is something she could use which would help her considerably to do so: in years gone by, Amarthiel was the keeper of one of the lesser Rings of Power; Narchuil, the Ring of Truth. If she has indeed returned to trouble Eriador, then she will certainly seek to recover her old Ring. And therein lies our chance: if we can intercept Narchuil before Amarthiel does, her ability to command the Enemy's forces in the North will be greatly diminished."

"And where might we find this Ring?" asked Gaelira.

"Sadly, none know where it now lies," said Elrond, "But my best lore indicates it may be hidden among the Elf-ruins of Eregion, many leagues south of here. It was for this reason I sent your friend Luean thither to begin the search. With any luck, we may discover Narchuil before Amarthiel does, and that would be a great victory for us. If you are agreeable, I would ask that you journey south to Eregion, find Luean, and help him in any way that you can. Eregion is also a logical place to begin your search for the gondath, since their makers once inhabited that land, and in this way you will be fulfilling two purposes with one journey. You have already done much, my friends, but our safety and our freedom demand more. Many stand in awe of your deeds already, for they have been mighty. Though the outcome may seem dark now, do not despair! Even the very Wise cannot see all ends, but noble and courageous actions such as yours do not go unrewarded -- of that you may be certain."

"We will of course consider what you ask," said Nephyn, "But could we possibly see Lagodir now?"

"Indeed you may," Elrond said with a smile. "He has been awake only a short time, but he is recovering. You will find him in the Room of Rest, on the far side of my house across the courtyard."

We thanked Lord Elrond many times before making our way to the infirmary. Within, we found our friend lying abed. He was himself, to the point he spoke defiantly about remaining bed-ridden for long, which made us all laugh because he was so obviously in such a weakened state. At one point he declared that a midnight stroll would do him good and he even rose as if to make for the door, but he quickly collapsed and had to be helped back into bed. Nephyn scolded him firmly for his obstinance while I wondered if maybe we could compromise by loading Lagodir up on Drodie like a backpack and have him cart the Man around for an hour or so in the fresh air, but of course I wasn't serious.

I can't rightly remember everything that was said that night -- only that it felt wonderful to be a whole Company again. We spoke with Lagodir about many things that day until the hours wandered further and further into the night. More than once we were obliged to let him rest, but always he seemed eager to tell us more and we always had more to ask of him. I will not write here what he told me concerning "sharing" a body with the horrors of Guloth because I don't feel I could really do the experience justice. Even Lagodir had great difficulty describing how it felt and none of us were eager to make him relive those awful times. Suffice it to say our friend was in his right mind again and we were all greatly relieved to see it. It was a joyous meeting, for we had risked much to save him, but I always felt just a bit on edge knowing that Guloth was not yet completely defeated.

Eventually everyone did actually retire, finally leaving Lagodir to get the rest he desperately needed (as we were continually reminded by one especially fussy Elf-nurse). Despite my tiredness I am having a hard time dropping off; it feels like today was the end of one chapter and the beginning of another, but at the same time it feels like the previous chapter isn't really over for good and all... not just yet, anyway.

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 55.2

A Decision Delayed

Highday, 15th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Forsaken Inn, the Lone-lands

The Ford of Bruinen

The day dawned as fair as you could ask. Breakfast was warm and cheery, for we were still in the heart of Bree-land and, despite the increase in ruffians throughout the countryside, we ourselves met no unsavory characters that morning. We were now well into Spring and the weather was warming to the point of being hot in the afternoons, so we made it a point to do more of our marching early and later in the day when the temperature was less objectionable.

We followed the Great East Road as it swung southward to avoid the Midgewater Marshes and I had a chance to admire the view. The trees weren't so close here as they were in the Northern Chetwood, and there were all manner of creatures running about on their own business. No one paid us any mind, although once we reached the further edges of the Bree-land we began to see farms and houses that were boarded up and (seemingly) abandoned. This was the first overt sign we had witnessed of Butterbur's dark warnings from two days ago.

In spite of the urgency of our mission, we were taking things fairly easy. The miles rolled by us as the Sun climbed higher and I began to sweat a little. I removed my hat and proceeded to use it to fan myself as we walked. Thinking back, I remembered how I had been gifted that hat by one of the Thornley's sons months ago in the earliest days of our adventures. It was much the worse for wear (the feather had been lost some time ago, whether burned, blown, or stolen I cannot remember), but it was now quite dear to me if only because I had carried it with me so far. I also still had my travelling pack and even my little Shire-hammer, which was carefully stowed away for use as a tool if needed, but now my weapon of choice was the bright Elven dagger which hung at my belt. I thought with sadness about the beautiful shield Mallacai had given me in the Halls of Night and how it had been destroyed at the hand of Guloth, and that memory made me shudder.

Returning to the present, I saw the day was still bright and the birds were still singing all around me. I also noticed that Minasse and Gaelira had wandered on a little ways ahead while Drodie was tramping along a ways behind me, but Nephyn was quite close, as if she was deliberately trying to speak to me without being overheard by the others.

"Nice day," she said, and I noticed right away that she was using a quieter voice than our obvious isolation on the road would have demanded.

"Very," I agreed, then nodded to my left, where lay the marshes. "I doubt you'd be saying the same if we had to go that way, though the day remained as nice!"

"No doubt," she chuckled, then she pointed away to the right. I saw a deer lope away from us into a thicket. "I bet that doe would make a wonderful pet."

"Deer are too skittish to be tamed without a lot of effort," I said. "Really! Is there any life-form in Middle-earth that you are not determined to domesticate?"

"Worms," the huntress answered with a laugh. "I hate worms."

"Oh, right, I had forgotten that," I admitted. I laughed in my own turn, but I was waiting for Nephyn to broach whatever subject was clearly on her mind.

"Those two seem to be getting along well enough," she said with a nod ahead to the two Elves, who were deep in conversation.

Ah, now we're getting somewhere, I thought, but I merely grunted my agreement and let her drive on.

"Do you think I was wrong to demand Minasse reveal his reasons for accompanying us?" she asked. It was common for Nephyn to worry about such things.

"I don't think so," I said, lowering my own voice since we were now getting nearer to whatever my friend was really interested in discussing. "He seemed open enough about his reasons, although I admit a lot of it goes over my head. I can't imagine what it must be like to have a memory that stretches back thousands of years!"

"Nor I," said Nephyn, lowering her own voice even further, "Nor could I ever hope to understand harbouring such anger over so long a span! I clearly uncovered more than I had intended."

"You're right about that," I said, "I still don't think he minded -- I don't think he was angry at you, I should say -- but that one certainly carries a lot of anger with him."

"He reminds me of the tales of the Old Elves, the Elves of the Second Age," Nephyn said with a nod. "All of Eldar I've ever met have been much more tame by comparison."

"Well," I said after a thought, "Gaelira has her moments too, you know." I remembered back to the early days of our Company when the she-Elf had exhibited flashes of intensity on more than one occasion, and I always found them rather unsettling. By and large, though, Gaelira was a calm, quiet, and contemplative sort.

"I suppose that is so," Nephyn agreed, "I too have seen her passion flare, but Minasse is... something different. It is the difference between a warm hearth and a raging forge."

"Well put," I said as I eyed the High Elf from behind. "I wonder what use he sees in us? We are no army and four lone adventurers -- five if we ever manage to find poor Lagodir -- aren't about to set right all the wrongs he's laid out."

"I don't know," said Nephyn, "But I can't help thinking his is a book from which we have read only a few leaves."

It was just at that time Gaelira called us to a halt. We rested for a while off the road under the cover of some rowan trees and took lunch. Once the Sun had passed from her height we resumed our march and reached the Forsaken Inn by sundown.

None of us were in the mood to try the inn's legendary fare (though Nephyn did try, unsuccessfully, to trick Minasse into partaking), while it was clear the denizens of the tavern had no desire to hobnob with Elves and Dwarves. Minasse looked everything over with such disgust that I feared for a moment he might grab a torch and try to burn the whole place down, but we merely excused ourselves and set up camp outdoors. Personally, I was relieved at this because the smell of the interior brought back some rather unpleasant memories. The night sky was a wonder of starlight as we settled in around the fire with the two Elves keeping watch.

Sterday, 16th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Lone-lands

It was quite windy today. Our little campfire was snuffed out in the early morning by a great gust and it hasn't let up for long since; I only just saved my hat from blowing away so many times I eventually gave up trying to wear it and just carried it tucked under my arm the rest of the day.

The road itself was uneventful. We did spy Weathertop away to our north again, and I thought about the time Lagodir had suggested he and I might scale it together some day, but then I wondered if maybe we was already up there and the pale, merciless eyes of Guloth were peering down on us from on high. I kept glancing at the hilltop nervously and so often that Nephyn took notice and asked me if I was not feeling well. I forced myself to think about something else.

I had forgotten just how long and dull the journey through the Lone-lands can be. At the moment I am lying in my bedroll, doing my best to write in this journal while the wind keeps threatening to disperse my pages. I think I will stop writing for today: the last thing I want is to have to run around the Lone-lands chasing missing pages... I hate it when that happens.

Sunday, 17th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Lone-lands

More Lone-lands, more dullness. The Sun was very hot for this time of year and that, combined with the drudgery of marching through this boring land, put me in a rotten mood I was unable to shake all day. At least there was less wind.

Monday, 18th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Ost Guruth, the Lone-lands

We arrived at Ost Guruth late in day. The inhabitants were happy to see us, though they seemed frightened of Minasse, who glowered disapprovingly at them. I bought a few trinkets and old Arnorian relics off some of their traders, but it was only out of kindness and compassion for their indigent state. I suppose I might be able to get a little coin out of them if I can find a collector in some place like Bree, assuming we ever make it back there.

Gaelira says we are still a good four days out from the Ford of Bruinen and that we need to start seriously thinking about whether we intend to travel all the way to Rivendell or if we should turn south to try and find Luean instead. I still think making straight for Elrond makes the most sense and I believe Nephyn agrees with me -- we are in desperate need of advice and information.

Trewsday, 19th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Last Bridge, on the Borders of the Trollshaws

We departed Ost Guruth at first light. There was some discussion about our road as we walked, but I think most of us are still content to let the days pass without coming to any serious decision. The Last Bridge loomed up in front of us at twilight and we camped on the far side. Nephyn said she could make out marks in the earth on both sides of the stone bridge, but she was unable to say of what sort they were or how long ago they might have been made.

Hevensday, 20th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Trollshaws

Now we are well inside the Trollshaws. I never liked this place much, and even the prospect of finding old Mr. Bilbo's stone-trolls doesn't make me like it any better. It was cloudier today but still bright and warm. I'm sure I would enjoy walking among the trees more if I didn't feel like we're constantly being watched.

We halted just before the road passed through a rock-wall, turned north a little ways off the path, and set up camp. Gaelira and Nephyn insisted that we light no fire tonight though they wouldn't give their reason. Maybe it is the howling off all these wolves I'm hearing around us.

Mersday, 21st of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Trollshaws

We proceeded into the Bruinen Gorges after a very unsettling night. At some point a weather front must have come through because everything is overcast and looks likely to turn to rain, although we never did get a drop all day. I can't be certain, but I think I heard distant thunder once or twice.

Sometime around noon we came upon the faint track which leads away north to the ruins of Thorenhad where, you might remember, we first met the Sons of Elrond. There was some debate as to whether we ought not go there and seek what help we might in that place, but after a short examination of the path Nephyn confidently declared no one had passed that way for at least two or three days and all of the prints were leaving. It was eventually decided that our errand would be best served by reaching Rivendell as soon as possible, and there was still a long way left to go.

We covered another twenty miles or so by the time we finally stopped for the night. My feet are killing me from all of this travel and I'm getting very tired of eating the same foods over and over again. I keep thinking about the lucious tables of the Last Homely House, but then that sets me thinking about whether I'll have the heart to leave it again, too. So long as Lagodir is still out there I suppose I shall have to.

Highday, 22nd of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Ford of Bruinen, Somewhere in the Trollshaws

There was no doubt about the thunder this morning: it woke us up (those of us who require sleep, anyway) with a fury and soon after large raindrops began falling, but it did not become a downpour right away. We quickly packed up our things and resumed our march toward Rivendell.

About the first hour from noon we reached the Ford. Its waters were beginning to swell a bit from the rain, but we had no real difficulty in crossing (though I was obliged to ride Nephyn pig-a-back, as often happens when we are required to cross any body of water). But it was when we had reached the far side and begun our ascent into the High Moor that we received a remarkable surprise.

It was Elladan and Elrohir, the Sons of Elrond, at the head of a large company of Elves, and they were marching on the Ford of Bruinen! They hailed us asking if we would accompany them, and of course we did so. As we made our return to the Ford, the twins informed us of their errand.

"We are well met and in the very nick of time, friends," said Elrohir (at least I think it was Elrohir), "A force of the foul folk has come down from the Ettenmoors and threatens to cross the Bruinen!"

"From there they can only mean to assault Imladris itself," said Elladan (I believe), "And we cannot permit that to happen."

"Nor shall we," said Gaelira, "But tell me: where is the Lord Elrond? Is he not among you?"

"Our father was forced to lead another contingent of our household against the trolls of the Ettenmoors some days ago," they replied, "And he had not yet returned when we set out to counter this impending threat. But now we are assured of victory, for we have the might of Elladan's Outriders with us!" We all laughed, for the Sons of Elrond are remarkable warriors in their own right, but I was apprehensive because it finally dawned on me that we were marching straight into a full-fledged battle.

And such it was: once we reached the Ford, the forces of Rivendell took up positions with archers in the rear and other stout folk (including ourselves) in the middle, barring the way across. The thunder crashed and rain came pouring down. After another hour or two, we suddenly saw the movement of large shapes away to the north of the Ford on the far side of the river. We waited, and those shapes eventually took up positions on the opposite side of the Bruinen. Elladan and Elrohir strode into the midst of the Ford and raised their hands, palms outward, signalling the enemy force to halt. There was a rush of harsh laughter away on the other side, then a cruel voice boomed across the river:

"Out of my way, whelps! I, Ningrat, have come to lay your precious homeland to waste. Without your sire to protect it, Rivendell is as good as ours. This is your only chance to run, little ones."

"We will not flee before the likes of you," the brothers shouted in return. "Turn back now or not one of you will be spared."

"Ha!" the voice replied, "So be it, then: I shall set fire to the Valley of the Elves and, when your mongrel-father returns to weep over your corpses, I shall have him brought before me in chains!"

So began the Battle of the Ford of Bruinen, and it was long and wearying. Waves of orcs, goblins, and other foul creatures threw themselves against us while arrows whistled overhead. Our line held firm, but the enemy seemed endless as the waters ran dark with the blood of our adversaries. The Elves were excellent marksmen, and many orcs fell to their arrows ere they could even reach the battle, but our forces were slowly bending -- given enough time they would have to break.

And then, just as I thought we could not withstand another assault, Ningrat shouted aloud and there came several trolls. They crashed into the Ford spraying water everywhere and blinding us. Many fled before them, but Elladan, Elrohir, and the Outriders held their ground (I was back among the archers), withstanding fist and club from the beasts. I held my breath as my friends fought for their very lives, and then I saw Elladan signal the retreat. Rivendell was lost.

But suddenly there came from the north a high, piercing note! It was no orc-horn, and everyone, friend and foe alike, turned to look in bewilderment. The jeers and laughing from the far side of the river went silent. Lightning flashed, and then I saw them.

"Elrond!" I screamed in my joy, and I jumped and waved my arms as if I had gone mad. "It is Elrond! Elrond has returned!"

There he was, on the far side of the Bruinen, astride a gleaming white stallion. His armour and sword flashed as if they were wrought from the avenging fire of Heaven itself while the knights of his retinue strove to match his pace. But the Elf-lord outran them all, and he fell upon the host of villains set against us with a fury that drove all the black-hearted to flight and wailing. Those around me took up the cheer and pressed the attack. The trolls moaned in distress -- even their dull wits sensing that things were amiss -- before they took off in full rout, stampeding back through their own lines and crushing all in their path. Elrond himself took the head of Ningrat, then his cavalry crashed into the foe while his sons ordered a charge of their own, and our enemy was utterly destroyed.

With the battle won, our forces converged on the western shore of the river. There was much cheering and celebration, for the losses on our side were light, though many had suffered wounds of varying severity. I checked on my friends, of course, but they were all safe. Then, like a sorry spectator at some sporting event, I went looking eagerly for Elrond. I found him dismounted and speaking with his sons and Gaelira, and he smiled at me as I ran up to him.

"Elrond!" I said, heedless of decorum in my elation. "Thank goodness you turned up when you did! I thought all was lost there for a moment." The Master of Rivendell regarded me kindly.

"Welcome back to Rivendell, Master Pemberton," he said. "Gaelira has been telling me about your adventures and there is much to discuss. But first we must tend to the injured and dispatch those enemies which fled the field. Then you shall accompany us to Imladris, where we shall determine what is next to be required of you."

A wave of exhaustion struck me then, and all I could think of was sleep. The rain had finally relented and the storm was passing away to the east when I heard that everyone was to begin marching toward the High Moor. It took another two or three hours of traversing the rough terrain to finally reach the Gates of Rivendell. As I descended into that valley, the pungent scent of pine-needles smote me, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the cares and exertion of the past several weeks, as if my ability to remain awake and all worry was taken from me. I swooned into Nephyn's arms and finished my journey to Rivendell with a smile upon my sleeping face.

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 55.1

A Message From an Old Friend

Hevensday, 13th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Prancing Pony, Bree-land

Our parlour-room in the Prancing Pony

We all awoke refreshed thanks to a good night's rest, a hearty breakfast, and an early start. We had some business to attend to before leaving Trestlebridge, but I let the others deal with such things. Drodie sold several trinkets and trophies he had been collecting throughout our trials in Angmar (our stock of coin had been running terribly low, so this was a necessary and welcome task) while Nephyn repaired a few hunting-bows for needy families. Once these things had been seen to, we departed the village by the southern entrance. It was turning into a fine day and I, at least, had quite the spring in my step as we journeyed along the road. There were no unpleasant encounters and no one spoke much, but I could tell just from everyone's general demeanour that spirits were higher than they had been for some days, most likely at the prospect of returning to Bree.

We made good time down the Greenway despite taking one brief detour to visit Saerdan's cabin (but he was not at home). We reached Bree at dusk and received more stares and shakes of the head than we might have gotten a few months back. Our gear and apparel were, for one thing, a bit more outlandish than when we had previously passed through, but now we also travelled in the company of Minasse, whose proud bearing and extravagant clothing cut quite a scene in that rustic village. Still, no one bothered us despite all of the prying eyes, since we made straight for the Prancing Pony, just as any band of adventurers would be expected to do.

The Sun was just setting when we swung open the door to Bree's finest inn. There were smiles on each of our faces as we strode into the Common Room (except, I think, for Minasse's, who made little effort to conceal his disdain for what he obviously considered to be inferior lodgings) and we quickly made ourselves comfortable at a long table near the main hearth. There was hardly anyone else in the place although two characters excused themselves mere moments after we had settled in. I eyed them both suspiciously as they slipped out of the room, but then my entire field of vision was obstructed by an apron which was covering an ample mid-section and wiping a pair of dirty hands.

"Well!" said a familiar voice, "Lookit what the Dwarves dragged in here this evening? Why, it's my little Nephyn and her travelling companions! Didn't think I'd close out this day on such a happy note, and that's a fact!"

It was none other than Barliman Butterbur, the Prancing Pony's porcine and perpetually pre-occupied proprietor. We had a good conversation in the light of his fireplace, but I honestly think he didn't follow half of what we told him regarding our journey. He did seem to grasp that some malady or other had befallen Lagodir (or, "that scruffy-looking fellow with the big axe," as Butterbur kept calling him) and that we were in search of a cure, but beyond that I believe most of our story went rather over his head.

"What did I always tell you, young lady?" he asked as he wagged one fat finger at Nephyn. "Mind your own matters and you'll never find yourself minding things what don't matter! Now you've gone and gotten this foreign chap infected with some plague or other and you're obliged to go chasing down a remedy -- if there is one. And what did you say became of him in the first place? Lost him, did you? Well, that only complicates things further, don't it? Tell you what I'll do, though: I'll rout out Bob and send him round to ask whether anyone here in Bree has seen hide or hair of him. If he's acting as queer as you say then folk round here will have noticed him if he passed through, sure's I'm standing here."

"We really do appreciate it, Mr. Butterbur," I said, "But to be honest there's little chance that Lagodir did pass this way -- he was in such a state that if you yourself haven't already heard about it, then I expect no one in these parts will have anything to tell us."

"Aye, you may be right at that," came his reply. "Folk hereabouts would welcome any chance to talk about something besides our own troubles. It seems we Bree-folk are going to be in for hard times if half what I hear is true. Hard times, you mark my words."

There followed a lengthy discussion of the strange people which had been seen flowing into the Bree-land from down south, and it was beginning to cause all sorts of difficulties with the current residents. Highway robbery was becoming so common that every person down to the local farmers was obliged to defend themselves even on short journeys to market, and the general attitude was that Graeme Tenderlarch, the mayor of Bree-town, was not doing enough to stave off the problems. Barliman seemed most happy to see us because he clearly expected us to do something about it all, but we dashed his hopes when we explained that we would only be staying the night before resuming our search for Lagodir.

"Well, if you must then you must," he said glumly, "But I wish I knew what was going to become of us here: we Bree-landers don't take to change all sudden-like, such as what's going on now, and we certainly don't want to see changes for the worse. Now, if you lot will just follow me, I'll show you to your rooms. You can have your pick of them, actually -- I wouldn't say business has been slow, but that's only because it's been downright terrible. You'll find plenty of layabouts in the Common Room most evenings, but there simply aren't as many folk on the Road seeking lodgings as there once was, and my house ain't maintained just from selling mugs o' beer, if you follow me."

Although we had an easy road that day, I sank into my bed with a deep sigh of immense satisfaction. Somehow it felt as if I had finally returned home, even though my home was, in point of fact, still more than a few miles away to the west. I pondered this curious feeling until sleep overcame me.

Mersday, 14th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the South Chetwood, Bree-land

We were all up quite early this morning, courtesy of Nob's clanging hand-bells. Old Butterbur had ordered him to march down the halls ringing them to wake us at quarter to six and I, for one, did not appreciate it. It turned out, however, that the time of our rousting was specifically requested by Gaelira, who summoned us all into the little parlour where we had met several times before. Butterbur was up a bit later, but since Nob was already busy preparing a full breakfast we did not lack anything. The five of us gathered around the parlour-table and drew up chairs while Drodie set a fire blazing in the little grate nearby. I smiled as I thought about all of the momentous things our Company had discussed and decided in that room, and I wondered what this time would be like. There was a smattering of small talk as we congregated and everyone except Gaelira seemed to be in high spirits -- even Minasse appeared to be enjoying himself. After a short time, the she-Elf rose and we became quiet, sensing she had something important to say.

"I am sorry for waking you all so early when our night was lengthened by talk," Gaelira said as the cool light of dawn began to creep in through the windows. "And yet, it appears this morning will be full of talk as well. I speak not of our loquacious host, but rather of this." She drew from her satchel a piece of folded parchment. "A letter," she went on, "Which I received in the dark hours of the early morning. It came to me tied to the leg of Malkan."

"Oh!" I said, genuinely happy, "Malkan has found us! Hurrah! Is it from Elrond? Does it say anything about what to do regarding Lagodir?" The others also made known their excitement, but Gaelira's expression did not change.

"You shall see for yourselves," she said, then she unfolded the letter and spread it out on the table before us. We four crowded around and I stood on my chair to read these words:

Dear Gaelira,

Greetings from Imladris! It seems you and I share an acquaintance: I have known Malkan for many years, but I had no idea he was assisting you -- and at the behest of Gwaihir, no less! That is quite an honour, as I'm sure you know. I could tell from the bird's signs that you wished him to find Lord Elrond but, sadly, he is not here. There have been rumours of an attack on Imladris by trolls out of the Ettenmoors and so he has led a contingent of his folk thither to deal with the threat. I fear that whatever mission you had for Malkan will have to wait a bit longer (I never did have the patience to learn the speech of such beasts anywhere near as well as you).

In the meantime, let me tell you of myself, for what I have to say may be of interest to you. First of all, Elrond has informed me all about you and your true purpose. I hope you will forgive me for doubting your intentions, but you cannot deny it was a riddle that needed solving and you know how I am about riddles! In any case, you should be aware that my errand and your own may have some connexion: by now you have no doubt been informed that Gildor and I were entrusted by Lord Elrond to find Sara Oakheart who, inexplicably, is said to have been seen wandering the Wild. Surely you remember Sara Oakheart? The mortal Woman who was the guardian of Narmeleth? She cannot possibly still be alive after all these years. There is only one explanation: Amarthiel has returned and now walks in Oakheart's likeness. For this reason was I charged with Gildor to find her but, alas, our quest has proved fruitless. I returned here to report to Elrond that she was last seen entering the ruins of Fornost, and we were unable to follow her further.

Gaelira, if Amarthiel has somehow escaped her prison then all of Eriador may be in more danger than even Elrond foresaw. He is aware of this, of course, but since it was I who lost her trail he has asked that I help him further: I am to journey to Hollin and find the cold Ring-forges of Celebrimbor. Somewhere among them, Elrond believes, I may be able to find Narchuil, Amarthiel's lesser Ring of Power. If Amarthiel has returned, she will no doubt seek her old Ring, but if we were to reach it first...

I know not where you are or what might be your current aim, Gaelira, but if you should happen to be travelling near to Eregion then seek me out! Like as not I will be digging in the rubble of the old college at Tham Mirdain. Perhaps we could help each other? Moreover, it would be very good to see you and the others again. I wish you good fortune in your endeavors and pray you will do the same for me and mine.

Yours in Haste,

Luean

P.S. Please be sure to destroy this letter... it contains more than I would care to set down in writing, but I trust Malkan is a safe courier.

"Luean!" I cried. "It's from old Luean! Well, of the many things I thought we might hear this morning I least of all expected this!"

"How good to know he is well!" said Nephyn. "It's a shame Malkan could bring us no counsel from Elrond concerning Lagodir, but this is a pleasant surprise."

"It is," said Gaelira as she returned the letter to her keeping. "But it also presents new challenges. That Amarthiel walks the earth again I do not doubt, and we may be required to act against her."

"And who is she?" I asked. At that moment we were interrupted by Nob bustling through the parlour-door to lay breakfast on the table. When everything was in order he excused himself and we all set to.

"Amarthiel," said Minasse in his usual superior tone, "Was the champion of Angmar during the wars which ultimately ended the North Kingdom of the Dunedain. She was a fearsome adversary: cunning, cruel, and ambitious beyond compare. No one knew whence she came, but the Wise had long suspected she was of some immortal race. Certainly such fears have been confirmed if she has somehow managed to don the mantle of Sara Oakheart and now plots her old schemes anew. This means much for the Free Peoples, and none of it good."

"But what of our own task?" asked Nephyn with a hint of anger in her voice. "What of Lagodir? Surely you're not suggesting that we abandon him in favour of some other quest?"

"I said this letter presented new challenges," Gaelira answered, "And that is one of them. We have heard no rumour of our companion since Aughaire and our efforts to receive some remedy or cure from Elrond have failed, at least so far. What shall we do next? Shall we journey to Rivendell to seek Lord Elrond in person, assuming he is there when we arrive? Or shall we turn southward to Eregion, where perhaps we will find Luean and aid him as he seeks to recover Narchuil before the agents of the Enemy do the same?"

"We do have one bit of solace, at least," said Minasse. "If those are our two choices then we will have no need to decide one way or the other, at least not for several days. The road to both Imladris and Eregion lies eastward, and only once we come to the Ford of the Bruinen will we be required to choose our path."

"Our path?" asked Nephyn unexpectedly as she eyed the golden-haired Elf. "Forgive my forwardness, but this is something I've been wanting to ask for a long time now: what is it you want with us, Minasse? Why do you walk our path?"

"A great war is coming," the High Elf answered in a detached voice. "Soon, deeds shall be done that will echo throughout all Time. Civilizations will shatter or they will be forged anew. 'Tis a time for choosing, and no one can escape the march of Fate."

"These things are not unknown to us," Nephyn retorted, "Nor do they answer my question."

There was a pause. I shifted my weight uncomfortably in my chair. Minasse hung his head slightly, then stood, took a few paces away from us, and placed one hand on a bookcase which stood by the wall.

"You wish to know my story?" he said quietly. "Very well, but I shall be forced to keep it brief, for my memory reaches back to the Elder Days -- to the bright green fields and forests of Beleriand. Before it was lost to us. Before my home was destroyed by the Valar."

"But wasn't Beleriand destroyed because of the war against the Great Enemy?" I interrupted. "At least, that is how I always heard the tales. I thought the Valar had no choice in the matter."

"No choice?" cried Minasse. "No choice?! It was the Valar in their madness who pardoned Melkor and allowed him to return to Beleriand where he caused no end of grief to my people for thousands of years! Their ignorance led to the near annihilation of the Elves; the loss of our first homes in Cuivienen, the theft of the Silmarils... Feanor was a fool, certainly, but it was the Valar who permitted Morgoth to go free."

"It was not the Valar who chose to pursue him," said Gaelira calmly, "Nor were they responsible for  the kinslaying at Alqualonde."

"Regrettable choices were made by many following Morgoth's flight, to be sure," Minasse rejoined, "But none of them would have been necessary had it not been for the short-sighted Powers and their soft hearts. Nay, spare me your lectures! Think you I have not heard nor pondered such things all my long life? Moreover, know this: Earendil was not the first to beseech the Valar for their aid against the Dark One. I myself sailed west on one of seven ships which set out from Eglarest, bound for Valinor, but all seven ships were lost in a great storm ere we reached the further shore. I believe I was the only one of that flotilla to survive, washed up back on the shores of Beleriand. As I made my way back to Gondolin, I met a Man named Tuor. I succored him in his time of dire need, leading him to my home, the secret of which had been maintained until that time, and so was its fall finally brought about. Only much later, when Earendil made his fateful journey into the Uttermost West, did the Valar finally bring their might to bear against Thangorodrim, and in that cataclysm all of Beleriand was drowned beneath the Sea. For these reasons do I say the Guardians have caused so much needless suffering."

There was silence among the rest of us. Minasse's eyes burned with a blue flame as I turned this all over in my own mind. Was the storm of the Valar's making? Did they ordain that he would meet Tuor and show him the road to Gondolin? Or was the Elf simply projecting his own grief onto the Powers as a way to justify his anger? No matter the truth, he did not appear to be in the mood to argue such things, and none of us were eager to gainsay him. I cast a quick glance at Gaelira, but she remained passively watching Minasse as he paced back and forth in his wrath.

"And it is for these reasons that I follow your Company," he continued. "There are too many who hide themselves in fear of the Enemy, but I have seen before what will come to pass if he remains unopposed. Too long have I myself only watched, doing nothing. But no more! If Morgoth's lieutenant, who has surely returned, is victorious in this coming war, then the fate of Beleriand would be a welcome one compared to what awaits Middle-earth under his dominion. I travelled into Angmar to do my part against the evil which slept there and that is now accomplished, but in this Company I see brave souls willing to do their part against the gathering Darkness. I wish to fulfill my own destiny in this conflict; I will not flee to the Havens as so many of my kindred have done -- that is the way of surrender. The time of the Elves may be fading, but it is not yet ended, nor will I be led by the nose in humiliation beyond the Sundering Seas."

"I have heard of those Elves which refused the Pardon of the Valar and remained in Middle-earth," I said. "Are you one of those?"

"I am," came his answer, "And there were many of us, though far more did indeed seek the Havens when the Valar extended their insulting clemency. Galadriel of Lothlorien was another, but there were others of less notoriety."

"Each of us has our own reasons for remaining with this Company," said Gaelira, "And we do not pass judgment upon each other for having them. I cannot say whether our purposes will always match with your own, Minasse, but if you are willing to assist us then you may, indeed, be playing some part in the struggle against the Enemy, as we have done despite our mixed success so far. And so, unless any of the Company objects, I will extend to you the hand of fellowship, that you may be formally acknowledged as a member of Elladan's Outriders."

No one did object, though I think we were all a bit leery in the wake of Minasse's outburst. Still, there was much to do and already the morning was slipping away. Once we had finished breakfast and cleaned up we heard Bob the hobbit servant come bustling through the door of the inn. He conferred with Butterbur briefly, then informed us that no one he knew in Bree or Staddle had heard or seen any sign of anyone matching Lagodir's description.

This left us with little choice but to continue our march back to Rivendell. We had, of course, still the decision before us whether to see that journey all the way through or to turn aside at the Bruinen and seek our old friend Luean in Eregion to the south, but many long miles must be covered before we will be forced to elect one way or the other. In the meantime, we said our goodbyes to Nob, Bob, and Butterbur then left town through the south-gate.

The weather had turned quite fine and Spring was in the air. Birds and beasts were busy in the Chetwood and we passed several farmsteads where we saw families at work in their fields. There were only a few puffy white clouds in a sky of profound blue above the tree-branches which waved gently in the breeze. It was hard for me, in that moment, to remember that our friend was lost somewhere in the wilderness and still battling with his possessor and tormentor, but the others kept their focus.

"Where do you suppose Lagodir has gotten himself to?" asked Drodie. "Dwarf though I be, I do not relish the thought of pursuing that Man through every fen and forest in Middle-earth. Can't anyone think where he might be headed?"

"I certainly cannot," said Gaelira. "Nor can I tell whether it is Guloth or our friend who is charting the path that his feet now walk. But I agree we cannot hope to track him across all the fastness of Eriador, and so I believe the wisdom of Elrond remains our best recourse."

Because we had gotten such a late start we did not reach the Forsaken Inn by sundown. We camped under the fragrant leaves of a large maple tree while a bear cub eyed us curiously before ambling off to find its mother. As the night deepened and we shared a hearty meal (our packs newly weighted down after a visit to the Bree market on the way out of town), we five recalled the many strange things we had seen together since we first met more than four months ago. So much has changed, even among ourselves, and I can't help but wonder what we might encounter next.