Hevensday, 13th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Prancing Pony, Bree-land
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| Our parlour-room in the Prancing Pony |
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.
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