Wednesday, May 30, 2018

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 67

Through the Mournshaws

Sunday, 30th of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Enedwaith
The Mournshaws
I awoke to Nephyn's gentle prodding and found the sky was still dark. I rolled over, yawned, stretched, and tried to rub the sleep from my eyes.

"I see we are back to our old ways of rising well before the Sun," I said. "No doubt I have Gaelira to thank for this. What is the time?"

"About the fourth hour from midnight, I think," came Nephyn's reply, "But I am hardly sure myself as I too was only just roused by Lagodir. There is something strange going on: when we went to sleep there were a few small lamps burning here in Maur Tulhau, but now it is as dark as the dregs of an ink-pot. Let's go and see what is afoot."

After blundering about for a little while in the gloom, Nephyn and I were able to locate a small cluster of people near the town centre. Iolo Brachtu, mayor of the village, was there and speaking with Gaelira, Lagodir, and Drodie in hushed tones.

"I think this gambit of yours is wise, she-Elf," the mayor was saying, "By leaving here so soon and under cover of darkness you hide your trail. Moreover, you remove yourselves from our home, thereby keeping your promise to us while, at the same time, you set your path upon that of your enemy. He rides south and you march behind him, hidden from his eyes because you are treading the very road he himself just traveled! Very clever."

"That is my intent," answered Gaelira. "I only hope we do not somehow catch up to him unawares, but I am eager to leave your people in peace. We are very grateful for your hospitality, brief though it has been, and we know you have done much for us even in this small gesture."

"You speak the truth, perhaps more than you realize," said Brachtu. "Few if any of our folk wished to aid you directly or indirectly, for the wars and troubles of the outside world are not our concern. Still, I can see that you and your friends are not like that other one, the Man Izarrair, so I can say that you go with our goodwill and wishes of good fortune upon your journey."

"We respect the desires of these, your kind people," said Gaelira as we all bowed our heads to the mayor. "I pray indeed that you will be spared from the coming travails which threaten to engulf all lands, though none accounted wise may foresee it."

"In such matters, our own counsel shall we keep," said Brachtu.

The mayor led us to the edge of town where we bade a very quiet and solemn farewell to the inhabitants of the strangest little village I had ever yet seen in my life. We had barely gone south for half a mile when I, looking back, saw the curious crowd and any sign of the path to Maur Tulhau seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth. I wondered just how many centuries that people had lay hid among the crags of the Enedwaith and how many more might pass before anyone else from the world beyond stumbled upon their dwelling. I wished I had a chance to spend more time among them, learn their names, their crafts, and their manner of speech, but Fate would not have it so. Instead, I hefted my pack and plodded along behind the shadowy figures of my companions.

We picked our way south for a few hours. Gaelira was apparently following directions she had received from Iolo Brachtu because we made very good time: it was still a little before dawn when we came to the crossroads we had seen the day before. Here, we traversed the stream without difficulty and continued on our way. The five of us were perfectly silent. For one thing, the forest around us was quite still as the Sun began to paint the sky, but the woodland canopy quickly blotted out her light as we continued across the water and into the woods on the far side. The radiant morning was lost to us, replaced by an oppressive stuffiness as the trees seemed to press in more and more the further we walked. These were mostly oaks, I think, but they were all rather twisted and gnarled in the most unlovely fashion. Piles and piles of damp, rotting leaves were everywhere on the forest floor and gave off a pungent, malodourous reek while the only sounds were those of insects -- nary a birdsong did we hear all the time we walked among that wood. Suddenly, there came the wailing cry of some distant beast. At first I thought it was the voice of a wolf, but if it was then it was unlike any wolf-howl I had ever heard before, so forlorn and melancholy it was. We halted briefly, listening for several minutes with strained ears to make sure we were not being pursued, and then gingerly resumed our trek. The place had not been named the Mournshaws in idle fancy.

The day drug on yet the light grew dimmer the further we went. We stopped for lunch (or what we felt might have been lunch, since the Sun was lost behind the tangled boughs overhead), then we pressed on again. It was some time later when we came upon a rather unusual sight: about a dozen large stones, all arranged in some sort of circular pattern. They were of immense size -- I should say at least fourteen feet high -- and most were set on edge in pairs with another, smaller stone lying across their tops. The effect was like looking at a series of high, stone doors, all of which faced inward on each other to a central point. That point was a beautiful green sward, and a bright shaft of the Sun's light stabbing down on it through a break in the trees above gave it a mystical appearance. We stopped our march, and there was not a sound to be heard in any direction.

"What is this place?" whispered Nephyn. None of us seemed eager to break the eerie silence which hung like a cloud over that clearing.

"And who placed these stones here?" I asked, my eyes wide with wonder. "Certainly not our little friends from Maur Tulhau."

"More importantly," said Lagodir with an uneasy frown, "What is their purpose?"

"Pah, it's just an altar, most likely -- some place for ancient ceremonial rites," said Drodie, but even he did not allow his voice to rise above a whisper.

"I do not know," Gaelira said, "But I think we should move on from here -- I distrust the uncanny silence."

To this we all heartily agreed. We began to move around the western edge of the stone circle, keeping it always a good distance to our left. Suddenly, we schlooped right into a thick, muddy puddle that was well-hidden by the forest undergrowth. No doubt it had been a collection point for much of the heavy rains which had pummeled that country the day before last.

"Ack!" I cried as I withdrew my feet from the sticky mess, "What rotten luck! I had disliked this wood already, but now --"

"Wait! No one move," commanded Nephyn. We froze and the young huntress bent over to examine the viscous earth.

"A shod horse passed this way," she whispered. "And very recently, unless I am much mistaken." Once she had called our attention to it, the marks were plain to see: it appeared we were following the exact same path, in a wide circle around the edge of the standing stones.

"Izarrair," said Gaelira grimly. "We should strike out in another direction at once."

"Why not go that way?" I asked and pointed toward the east. There, the murk of the trees grew less, and there even appeared to be a golden haze some distance on which might have been sunlight. The Company leaped at the prospect of seeing the sky again, so we immediately left our course and headed for the thinning treeline. It was a good step, but eventually we could see that the Sun was, in fact, shining down in that place and that it continued to do so both north and south of where we were headed.

"Why, it might well be a creek, or even a river," said Nephyn. We hurried our pace.

And so it was: a heady river which flowed south down from the highlands to our right. It had a swift current and the banks were overgrown with shrubs and rushes, but we five were only grateful to feel the free wind on our faces once more. We followed the river south a ways before Nephyn suggested we cross it since doing so would wash away our scent and make tracking us more difficult, if anyone was so inclined.

Accomplishing this took a bit of effort, for the river proved swift and strong, but after wading out in several places to test the depth with the lower limb of her bow, Nephyn located a spot which was shallow enough for us to ford easily enough. The water came up past my waist, but even I did not need to be carried across. Once we were on the western bank we began to make excellent time. The trees were spaced much further apart and the increased airflow made us feel rejuvenated. Many miles slid by as quickly as the rushing river in its reedy bed.

We continued on like this for a fair ways until I was abruptly yanked by the cloak into a knot of rushes. Both Nephyn and Gaelira clapped a hand over my mouth, but I could already see the cause of their alarm: as I peeped through the reeds eastward across the river, there on the far bank stood an imposing figure on horseback. I also saw that Lagodir and Drodie had remained in sight and drawn their weapons.

"Hold, drudge of Mordor," Drodie called in challenge. "Do not think to cross this river, if you wish your limbs to remain attached to the rest of you!"

"Hail, heroes," came Izarrair's cold voice from across the water. "I did not think to cross paths with you again so soon. So, you are making for Dunland? What is your business in that worthless land, I wonder? And where are the other three simpletons which follow in your train? Lost themselves in the haunted woodlands, perhaps?" He laughed.

"The others have gone off with the Elf," Lagodir answered.

"I am not a fool, Gondorian, so pray do not speak to me as one! Wherever you go the others are sure to be nearby. Hiding in the rushes, are they? Protecting the females and the little rat-footed holbytlan you picked up in this wretched place, I guess? I would like very much to know why you keep that one around. But you need have no fear of me just yet, Lagodir, honoured guest of Mordor: Izarrair does not disobey orders for any cause -- certainly not for your inconsequential neck. When I strike at you it will be at a time and a place of my own choosing; you shall watch as your friends fall one by one, and then I will see you hauled back to Minas Morgul in chains."

"NEVER!" Lagodir roared, and he even jumped into the river so to get at the horseman, but the current proved too strong for him and he was obliged to cease his attack. Izarrair merely laughed at his efforts.

"Bested by a little water, I see," he mocked. "Just how much of your old self is left, I wonder? We shall put it to the test one day, but not yet, my friend. Not yet." With that, Izarrair turned his horse and sped away southward at a hard gallop.

Nephyn, Gaelira, and I rejoined the others once the horseman was out of sight. None of us knew what to make of his words other than the obvious fact he was under orders from Amarthiel and that, whatever his mission, it must be one of terrible importance. We remained on the west bank of the river all the rest of that day as we continued our journey south. None of us spoke, but I think each of us was puzzling over why Izarrair seemed determined to keep us at arm's length.

The Sun had sunk behind the hills to the west when we finally decided to cross the river again. There was no easy place to ford, so I clambered up onto Lagodir's back as the Company swam to the other side. We camped on the very edge of the Mournshaws and lit a fire to dry our wet clothes while Nephyn and I stared off into the south.

"Dunland," she said, her voice heavy with emotion. "To think, my mother once lived somewhere in this land, and tomorrow I shall set foot upon its soil."

I nodded, but found no words to say. The region which lay before us looked hard and rocky to my eyes, with few trees and many crags while the river continued its swift journey on ahead. Looking down the banks, I suddenly marked a tiny light appear. Then there was another, and another! I blinked as I realized I was looking at the dim outline of a small, rustic village that was perched on a little island out in the midst of the river and connected to the shore by a rickety wooden bridge.

"Neph, look!" I said and pointed. "A town! Or what might pass for a town in Dunland, at any rate -- I think there can't be more than a dozen huts all told."

We brought this news to the others around the campfire, but no one else seemed terribly excited by it. Gaelira was interested only so far as she mused the inhabitants might be able to tell us which way Izarrair had gone while Drodie just wanted to know whether they might sell him some beer. Lagodir, meanwhile, had suddenly become very intent on stoking the fire (which didn't really look like it needed stoking at all).

It was an awkward evening. Gaelira was on the watch, Drodie was whetting his axe, Lagodir was quiet and withdrawn (for reasons I never found out that night), and Nephyn was brooding upon the prospect of entering the region where, almost thirty years prior, her mother had been escaping slavery at the hands of the Dunlendings. I wanted more than anything to talk to her, to find out what was going through her mind, but I knew she would never allow it -- I had already betrayed her trust once by copying down the personal letter she had written long ago in Rivendell which laid out her family history (so far as it was known), and I could not openly discuss that, not even among our closest friends, without her permission. And getting away to speak in private was no option with Izarrair and whatever other dangers lurking in the darkness.

After a while I engrossed myself in my writing while Nephyn (whose turn it was) prepared supper. It had been a most unusual day and there was a lot to get down, and soon no sight, sound, or smell beyond my work was able to disrupt my concentration. I had just finished describing the strange standing stones when something blocked my vision. It was a hand -- Nephyn's hand. She was holding a wafer of cram into the midst of which she had thrust a carrot-stalk. I put down my journal and stared at her in confusion. Her face was lit with an enormous smile, and I could see she was trying desperately not to laugh. The others were also watching me and seemed greatly amused, but I had no idea what was so entertaining. I blinked uncomprehendingly at the weird concoction as I took it from her hand.

"Um, Neph..." I asked finally, "What is this?"

"Happy Birthday!" she cried, and the others wished me the same. I laughed aloud.

"Well, bless me!" I said with a smile, "I was worried you had all lost your wits there for a moment. On second thought, maybe you have -- my birthday isn't for another twenty-one days yet, that being the twentieth of Wedmath when I'll turn thirty-seven years old. You're three weeks early!"

"Oh, well, you know," Nephyn hawed, "I remembered you mentioning your birthday was coming up next month, and that starts tomorrow. Besides, we all looked like we needed a laugh after what we've been through these last couple of days, so I made you a little something special."

"What, this?" I asked as I held up the carrot-impaled biscuit. "What on earth is this supposed to be, anyway?"

"Why, it's carrot-cake!" she giggled and the Company rolled with laughter, heedless of the watchful night.

Wednesday, May 23, 2018

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 66

Of Horsemen and Hobbits

Sterday, 29th of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Maur Tulhau, Somewhere in the Land of Enedwaith
A hobbit-house in Maur Tulhau
Our Company had made camp well outside of bowshot from the walls of the Algraig settlement of Lhanuch in the midst of the Enedwaith -- in fact, we had pitched our tents in a small copse of trees off the eastern side of the Great North Road, so it was a good ten-minute walk to its gate. Having agreed to not bed down among the suspicious natives, we decided it was best to keep a respectful distance. I, for one, was perfectly happy with the arrangements given the welcome we had so far received in that land.

It was after midnight. Dark clouds had suddenly rose up from the West and thunder rumbled ominously in the hills, but it sounded to still be some ways off. I had been tossing and turning in my blankets for hours, unable to sleep: the wind had risen again and howled in the rocky crevices of the plains while the tree-branches above us creaked and groaned as they were tossed about. 

Finally, I could stand the din no longer. As I rose and began to walk about, I saw Lagodir was asleep (ever since the destruction of Guloth in Rivendell I had noticed he could sleep through anything) while Gaelira was perched partway up a tree as she observed the gathering storm.

"I think I could do with a quick stroll," I called to her, nearly shouting to be heard over the noise of the weather. 

"You ought to be sleeping," she answered me.

"And who could sleep through this gale? Aside from him, that is," I deadpanned with a motion toward Lagodir. "I just need to move about, is all. I promise I won't go far."

"Nor alone," said Nephyn, who was suddenly beside me.

"And I might as well go with you two, too." It was Drodie. His head was bare of helm, but he wore still his armour and his axe was at his belt. "By the by, that's two as in the number, and too as in..."

"Yes, yes, we know what you meant," I said. "Well! It appears I've gathered myself a merry little troop. Still, I can't deny I'd be happy for the company. And that's company as in..."

"Oh, stop it!" Nephyn chuckled, "Or we'll never be off before the rain comes. Lead the way, Master Hobbit."

"And do not wander far!" Gaelira warned us. "Nor too near the gates of the village. Their eyes are not unwatchful, though perhaps you cannot tell from here."

We promised to do as she instructed, then I led the three of us away from our camp. I wasn't going anywhere in particular, but for whatever reason my feet took me westward, across the Road, and north of Lhanuch. We could see the bridge of the Araniant not far to the north on our right, and we decided to follow the river's southern bank a-ways to see where it might lead. After a short walk, we discovered ourselves overlooking an enchanting pool, fed by several thin waterfalls which fell into it from the nearby streams. That water had a secluded and tranquil feeling, so I lingered there and my friends remained with me. As we milled aimlessly about the place, we found an interesting obelisk planted into the hillside. Drodie was particularly fascinated by it.

"This would be a Dwarf-marker, sure as I live and breathe," he said. "You could never mistake the craftsmanship for aught else."

"That is true, certainly, but what does it signify?" asked Nephyn. "The pool is lovely, but it hardly seems the sort of thing that Durin's Folk would feel it necessary to memorialize."

"Ah, but that is where your lack of knowledge concerning the lore of my people shows itself," Drodie replied. "And this is not even very ancient lore: like as not what we see here marks part of the journey of the Dwarves of Erebor as they fled the desolation of Smaug and made their way to the Blue Mountains. It was told that hardship along that journey drove them far off the Great East Road, and they came to the Ered Luin by hard paths through strange lands that few have traveled."

"Well, that's a fitting description of this place, right enough," I said with a grimace. There was a silence as I looked out over the calm water, into the West.

"Aye, we've not exactly gotten the royal treatment here," Drodie agreed. "Still, seeing this gives me hope: it reminds me of Erebor that was lost to my kin, the long trials we endured to start a new life in the West, and the sacrifices made to regain the Lonely Mountain. Seeing this marker is like seeing a little piece of home and my heritage."

"Yes," I said quietly, but I did not turn my gaze.

"Padryc," came Nephyn's voice, "Are you really here due to lack of sleep?" I sighed.

"I miss the Shire," I said after a pause. "It's not that I want to turn away from you all, but... well, it's been a long time. And it's not even that, really, when I get down to it. This land... It's so, so different from anything I've seen before. I've always felt a bit out of place -- any hobbit would with everywhere we've been -- but I've never felt so... like such an outsider before now."

"Not even among the Elves in Rivendell?" she asked me.

"Yes, to be honest," I answered. "At least, I never felt unwelcome even if it was a bit awkward. I think that, at the barest bottom, I'm really truly homesick for the first time in a long, long while. Still, I'm sure this all sounds like nonsense to you, Neph, what with everything you've been through: you've never really been welcome anywhere you've lived or journeyed your entire life. I'm sure you'll tell me to tough it up, and you'd be right to do so."

"No," she said, and her face was solemn. "It's true, I've never really belonged anywhere, at least not yet, but why should I begrudge you the fact that you have? Feelings of loss can only come when one has something worth losing, but I am happy that you can still find what your heart will miss from time to time. Perhaps, one day, I too will have a home -- and the privilege to yearn for it."

"Aye, you cannot have one without the other," said Drodie. "Fifty-score, six, and thirty years it has been since Durin's Folk fled the halls of Khazad-dum, my friend, yet even now its memory lives in our songs and in our stories. Great anguish was wrought by the loss -- even still we feel it -- but that would never have been, were it not so dear to us."

'You're both right, of course," I said. "Besides, we must do whatever we can to clear up this mystery surrounding Luean and what befell him in Eregion. As melancholy as I might be, I feel I must at least see that through."

"You speak for me as well," said Nephyn with a smile. "But come! We should return to camp before the others start to worry -- I do not think they would forgive us if they had to come searching afield on a night such as this is shaping up to be."

The three of us made our way back the way we came and returned quickly to the copse of trees. As we arrived, lightnings began to crease the sky while the wind howled more fiercely than ever. We saw Lagodir was now awake and peering off into the East. There was no sign of Gaelira.

"Greetings, Lagodir," said Nephyn as we approached. "Where is Gaelira? And why do you watch that way when the storm approaches from behind?" asked Nephyn. 

"Because I need not watch for the known dangers," answered Lagodir, his back still to us, "But for the unknown ones."

Curious, we followed his gaze. Some distance off we descried a dark and hulking shape which slowly became larger as it drew near. After a time, I saw it was a lone figure atop a horse, and both were arrayed in sable. The apparition's garb was soiled and ragged, but here and there I caught the glimpse of steel rings (as of chain mail) and I saw many spikes of iron protruding from his pauldrons, cannons, and couters. His face we could not see: it was hidden behind a grotesque mask of horns which gave him a monstrous look, but for all that I could see it was in the shape of a Man. His mount sauntered to within about twenty feet of our Company and halted, his eyeless mask betraying no thought or emotion. 

"Hold, traveler!" Nephyn called to the towering shadow. "We are but a wandering company and wish for no quarrel. What is your business in this land?" The horseman halted, but made no sign or sound.

"Speak!" Lagodir shouted above the din of the weather. The horse swayed and flicked its tail, but still we received no answer. I cowered behind Drodie as the others drew their weapons. Only then did the masked figure give answer. His voice was sneeringly soft yet rough as iron, but it was indeed a Man and no Orc or wraith which stood before us.

"Ah, Elladan's Outriders -- erstwhile heroes of Eriador! I expected to find you sooner or later since word of your passage runs like a plague wherever you pass. My mistress told me you were arrogant, but even I did not think you were foolish enough to so brazenly declare yourselves with your filthy white cloaks."

"We have no fear of you or whomever holds your leash, slave," said Lagodir, "Fouler foes have we faced and bested than the likes of you."

"Is that so?" scoffed the horseman. "Such is not the tale as I've heard it. What of Brullug in Sarnur? Defeated, from what I understand, by a female out of the frozen North. Mordirith? Overthrown by the machinations of Guloth the Weakling. Guloth? Supplicated himself to my mistress before he was destroyed. Surely you don't think to count yourselves among those who threw down Thaurlach? Anyone could claim as much when they have an army in front of them as you did. Even Bleakwind the drake lives, though wounded, in the wastes of the Ram Duath. Ha! Some warriors. What do I see before me? Lagodir of Gondor I know already, for he was once our guest in Minas Morgul. That imbecile Guloth permitted you to depart our hospitality for his own ends, so be assured the fate he suffered was a mercy compared with what his ambition had purchased him in the Dark Tower. And this dark-skinned waif must be your servant-girl. I trust she keeps you warm on cold nights such as this, friend Lagodir -- such has long been the way among your fallen and decadent people, has it not? Debasing your once-noble lineage out of a desperate hope to propagate your seed?"

"Silence, cur!" Lagodir shouted as he raised his sword. "I'll not listen to more of your perversity!"

"Oh, I think you will," returned the horseman with a cruel laugh. "You know as well as I that your arm is weakened after its many trials, valiant Sergeant-at-Arms. Still, you have your companions, don't you? Behold: Drodie of the Mountains! Famous throughout the land for being quick at the elbow and slow of the mind! And cowering behind him I see his rat-footed Dwarf-servant. But dear me! It seems that, in your stupidity, you have misplaced your Firstborn-witch. Or perhaps she is hiding? That would be in keeping with the wont of her kind. What a merry little band!" He laughed again and reached for something hanging at his saddle. He held it up, and I could see it was a wickedly barbed spear, the blade forged of some dark metal. His mount took two steps forward, eager for battle, but the horseman checked its advance.

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to end your sad, overwrought tale here and now," he continued, menacingly. "Fortunately for you, however, there are more important matters to which I must attend. My mistress, Amarthiel, sends you this word of greeting: I have what it is you seek, and I await your pleasure to retrieve it. Guloth was nearly your doom, yet I am vastly more powerful; Even your pathetic 'victory' over him has only served to further my own designs. Face me, or die like the cowards you truly are."

"Amarthiel's threats do not frighten us," said Nephyn as she raised her bow, "Nor do the caterwaulings of her nameless thralls."

"Nameless?" the horseman echoed, and I could tell from his voice that he smiled behind his mask. "Did I fail to introduce myself properly? How careless of me! I am the Captain of Ered Lithui, Warden of Udun, Lieutenant of Carn Dum and Enforcer of Amarthiel -- I am Izarrair!"

"Never heard of him," Drodie growled. "Long on titles, short on deeds, I'll warrant, unless you'd like to hop your pointy-hatted self down here and prove otherwise."

"Soon enough, though it looks to be a long way down indeed, my stunted friend," Izarrair replied. "Know this: Amarthiel has plans for each of you, and so do I. I truly hope none of you meets their end before I finish my business and return to destroy you all myself. From the look of it, though, I would do well to hurry. I suspect the Dwarf-rat or the dark-skinned whelp will be dead ere I find you again, and so I take my leave. Fare-thee-poorly, my heroes."

With that, Izarrair spurred his mount right at us and we leaped aside in order to avoid being run down. The horse and rider quickly charged off toward Lhanuch, vanishing into the storm. Lightning ripped across the sky, thunder roared in the distance, and at last the rain came streaming down.

"What nerve!" I cried as I drug myself out of the mud-puddle in which I had landed. "First Inar and now this black chap -- for Heaven's sake, is there anyone left in all the West-lands of Middle-earth who's not hunting us down?!"

"Stooge of Amarthiel and thrall of Mordor," grunted Drodie. "I had always wished to be world-renowned as a Dwarfling, but this isn't quite what I had in mind."

"Indeed! Our success and notoriety throughout Eriador has come with a price, it seems," said Lagodir. "Still, we must not be discouraged -- the Enemy thrives on extinguishing hope among his adversaries, for only then is his victory truly achievable. I wish Gaelira were here; perhaps she could tell us more about this Man Izarrair. She said she would return within the hour, and that is now nearly up."

Gaelira did return shortly, as it happened, with her cloak raised over her head to try and ward off the rain. We hailed her as soon as she was within sight and she hastened to meet us, sensing that something was amiss.

"Greetings, friends," she said as she entered our campsite and shook the rain-water out of her hood.

"Yes, how d'ye do," I said mockingly. "Now, where the devil have you been?!"

"I only went to scout a path which, according to the maps I brought with me from Imladris, is supposed to lead to a fabled library somewhere up in the mountains surrounding Thror's Comb," Gaelira replied. "Why? Has something happened in the short time I was away?"

"I should say so!" I exclaimed, then the four of us proceeded to recount for her the entire episode with the dark horseman. She had never heard the name Izarrair before, and she had us tell her the entire story a second time, then asked us all several pointed questions about the encounter. She seemed particularly interested in what he thought of me, and had me repeat his exact words over and over.

"Are you getting some kind of twisted enjoyment out of his insults?" I finally asked her. "What is the point of my telling you this again and again?"

"I think," the she-Elf answered, "This Izarrair had never seen a hobbit before. I could be wrong, of course, but it seems plain to me that he did not quite know how to characterize you, and somehow I think this might be important."

"Well, I wouldn't expect his sort to know decent, respectable folk from a swine's slopping-trough," I sniffed, "Not if it would earn him a mountain of gold! But why should that be important?"

"Be that as it may," interrupted Lagodir, "This encounter has proven beyond doubt that we must take to concealment at once. We have been far too careless up to now."

"I agree," said Gaelira, who left my last question unanswered. "Furthermore, we must shun the road, though I fear doing so will slow our progress. Still, that cannot be helped, given tonight's events."

"And where, then, shall we go?" asked Drodie as he wrung the water from his beard.

"The maps of the Enedwaith I saw in Rivendell were largely incomplete and of little use," the she-Elf replied, "But I remember there was a forest in the west of this land, the Mournshaws, which may suit our purposes: it is broad and trackless, yet it seemed to me a way did exist to continue southward into Dunland, if we can find it."

"Mournshaws?" I repeated. "Oh, well, that doesn't sound ominous at all! Let's be off then, shall we?"

"There is a range of tall hills between us and that forest," Gaelira went on. "If memory serves, we will need to backtrack some distance and try to find a way leading west off the main road. Gather your things --  we shall waste no time."

"Oh, you...?" I stammered, "I was only joking. You really mean to set out at once? In this abominable weather?"

"I do," she replied. "It would be unwise for us to linger here a moment longer, and we are all in for a wet night, whether we are awake or not."

I couldn't argue with her logic and the Company was ready to move in two wiggles of a hobbit's toes. That was the most wretched night I could remember in a long while as we trudged northward, back over the Araniant, retracing our steps. The darkness and the terrible visibility made finding Gaelira's westward track nearly impossible, and it was some time before we finally found what we were looking for. Eventually, though, we sighted a muddy path which led west and very quickly began to climb up into the hills. It was shrouded in trees on both sides and very soon the wind and rain were lessened by their presence so that our situation became considerably less miserable.

Over time our path became a bit more well defined, but it also began forking repeatedly. Our choices were mostly to either continue west or to turn northward, but Gaelira consistently kept us on the westerly track, always keeping the rushing river to our left. After a while the way leveled off and the rain ceased, so our going became easier, but the trees also began closing in upon us and I started to feel rather confined. This continued for some while until, just when I thought I couldn't stand it any longer, we reached a clearing. The river still ran to our left, but just ahead it was shallow enough to ford and one leg of the path turned south while the other went north. Ahead of us, the track vanished into the grass and the forest was wild and overgrown.

"I think we have come far enough into the trees," said Gaelira.

"What now?" asked Lagodir. "Shall we take yonder southward road?"

"No," said Gaelira. "Not yet: Let us turn north and look for a spot to rest. That would be less expected, were anyone to be hunting for us in these woods."

By this time it was nearing foredawn and I wasn't sure how much further I could go before falling asleep on my feet, but I walked doggedly on behind my companions. The path north led into a labyrinth of hills and gorges, such that we were soon quite lost. All five of us tried to navigate those ravines in an attempt to shake off any pursuit, but the place was such a confusing maze of ditches, hedges, hills, and dells that very soon we were unable to find the way by which we had come. If anyone was tracking us in those woods, they would certainly have had a time of it! The soft light of day was growing in the East and we had just decided we would turn south and continue that way by any means possible when we suddenly heard the most incredible thing.

It was a flute. No one could have mistaken it for anything else, though there was a very bird-like piping quality about it. Someone was playing a spritely tune in welcome of the dawn! Without a word the five of us crept carefully through the underbrush in search of the musician, and it was not long before we had found him.

If I was surprised to hear a flute play in that wild and untamed forest, I was far more surprised by what I saw then. There, lounging on a hillock with his back to us (for we happened to approach from behind him) near a deep cleft in the rocky hillside was a little figure. He wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, rustic clothing, and no shoes. And there was thick, brown and curly hair upon his feet.

"It can't be!" I blurted out, heedless of giving us away. Instantly the piping stopped and the little figure jumped up, whirled around to face us, and whipped out a crude little stone dagger.

"Who's there?" he called. His face was rough and dirty, but it was round and kindly nonetheless, though just then it was also filled with fear. He spoke the Common Tongue, however he had the most peculiar accent I had ever heard in my life.

"We're friends," I called to him as I walked forward, hands up and palms outward in token of peace. "Just travelers who have lost our way in these lovely hills, and we'd be ever so grateful if you could point us toward the southward road. We'll just continue on our way and leave you be, although..." Here I peered closely at him and smiled. "I never thought to see hobbits in this land! A joyous meeting this is! Padryc Pemberton, very pleased to make your acquaintance!" And I bowed low, then proceeded to introduce my companions.

"'These be strange names ye give," replied the little fellow. "An' what's all this late 'bout hobbits? We be holbyltan here. Rhus am I, Rhus Cornchuthur, and ye've found yer way to the village of Maur Tulhau." Here, he pointed to the cleft in the hills through which (I now perceived) led a faint dirt path. "We hain't ne'er be trustin' of duvodiad -- Outsiders, that is -- but ye don' bear the look a' evil folk ter me. Ye're welcome to visit if'n yer o' mind, but I'll ask that ye present yerselves to th' mayor straight'way. Ye'll find Iolo up the path, near the village centre, I reckon. Now, yer pardon, but 'tis me duty to honour the Huntsman at the rise o' the Sun." 

We entered the rock-cleft and left Rhus to continue his piping, though he eyed us suspiciously as we passed. Once through, we saw the path became straighter and more well-used. Then, after brushing aside some enormous ferns, we beheld a truly magnificent sight.

We were in a beautiful gorge through which ran the road we were on. It climbed over small bridges of stone, wound down among the rocks, then rose back again all the way up the hillside. And everywhere it went it passed by the most curious little houses and gardens. Hobbit-houses! A few were holes, not terribly different from Shire-holes, but the majority were actual low houses, all of wood or brick or delved right into the rock-wall. One could almost believe one had suddenly been transported away to some remote corner of the Shire, except here the gardens were all overgrown -- as if the foliage in this land was uncommonly large in its natural state -- and also several of the houses had more than a single storey, which would be quite unusual in my homeland.

"Look!" I cried as we passed one of the houses. "Look there! Why, shave my toes and call me an Elf, that's a field of pipe-weed, that is! And look! They are hanging it to dry and packing it in barrels for smoking later!"

"Why, so it is," remarked Nephyn, "Getting a bit over-excited, aren't we, Pad? Or have you smoked through your entire supply already?"

"No, no, you don't understand," I said. "The vaguest histories of hobbit-lore say my people traveled into the West of Middle-earth many, many years ago, but we did not settle the Shire itself until the year 1601, at which time the Shire-reckoning began. It had always been said that our ancestors brought pipe-weed with them on that journey, though it was used primarily for aromatic or medicinal purposes at the time. It wasn't for another thousand years and more when our tales say Tobold Hornblower first invented the art of smoking the stuff -- long after the migration was complete. Quite aside from the fact that these folk must be distant relations of Shire-hobbits (those as never completed the journey, I suppose), this proves that the art of smoking made its way back across the leagues of Eriador if they have learned of it here! Truly fascinating! I shall have to be sure and write it all down tonight; at last my journal shall have real historical significance!"

"I'm gratified to know our trials and efforts have not been in vain," smiled Lagodir, "If only to ensure the lineage of what in my country we call the westmansweed is thoroughly documented for posterity."

The denizens of Maur Tulhau shied away from us as we walked through their fair village. Not that I was surprised: from the look of things, I should have said they were a very isolated people indeed. Once we reached Iolo Brachtu (the mayor) in the centre of town, however, I learned that their stand-offishness could be attributed to more than just the oddity of seeing five outlandish travelers striding through their town in the light of a fair morning.

Izarrair had been there ahead of us. At least, if it wasn't him then there must be two of him, for the description we got from the mayor of the terrible Man which paid them a visit not hours before could be no one else. According to their account, he had threatened them at the points of his spear and javelin to tell him all they knew about hobbits and the Shire, and also whether they had seen any trace of some strange creeping frog-like creature for which Izarrair had no name. But the people of Maur Tulhau, though frightened, resisted him. And in any case they did not have the information he sought, at least not knowingly, for they call themselves holbytlan, not hobbits, and they knew nothing of the Shire. When they said this to Izarrair he cursed their uselessness, warned they should pray he never have cause to come there again, and bolted away into the forest like a raging fire.

"My people deal seldom with the Big Folk of any land," Iolo said to us, "But never before had we seen anything like that one. We will never submit, though we have not the strength to defeat him should he return, I think. You five feel quite different. I will allow you to remain here for the space of one day, if you wish it, but then I will demand that you begone: we know nothing of what goes on outside this forest nor do we wish to, and I will not have strangers bringing danger to my people."

We agreed to this request (or demand) full-willing, since it was sound and certainly justified. Once word of this arrangement went about, the inhabitants were much more accepting of us, but none of them would ask us to stay in their houses. It wouldn't have done much good anyway, as none but myself (and possibly Drodie) could even fit into their homes, but we preferred to remain together and so camped out-of-doors once more.

I am lying now in my blankets with the others around a fire near the well at the centre of town. Of all the things I thought I might see on my journeys I had never expected this! I just hope we have not endangered these kind folk and that Izarrair leaves them alone; it turns out our steps are being dogged, and not just by Inar and his lackeys. Perhaps Gaelira's wager that we will lose any pursuit in the dense forest of the Mournshaws will prove effective, but the fact that at least one of our pursuers has already passed this way doesn't bode well.

P.S. The name the Man gave us for himself he pronounced EEZ-are-ire, but my spelling of it is only a guess based on how it sounded in my ears. Neither I nor any of my companions were certain as to what tongue might have held its origins, so I may modify it later if I should acquire more information.

P.P.S. I also learned through discussion with one of the natives that Maur Tulhau translates into the Common Speech roughly as 'large hole' or 'great digging.' I find this captivating since that is the same (general) translation of Michel Delving, the chief settlement of the Shire. I wish I could spend more time among these, my distant kin but, alas, it simply isn't possible under the circumstances.

Wednesday, May 16, 2018

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 65

The Wilds of Enedwaith

Sunday, 23rd of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Enedwaith
One of the Shadow-wolves of Enedwaith
The howling wind woke us all quite early as branches creaked and cracked in the gale. A fierce wind was blowing down from the North, driving all the clouds in the overcast sky before them with the threat of rain. As I collected my belongings (or tried to, as several of them kept getting blown away), I hoped the day would not be a wet one.

Breakfast was little more than a biscuit or two while standing amidst the ruins of Echad Mirobel while saying our farewells to Maegamiel, leader of the Elves in that place. He thanked us many times for our assistance in the defeat of the half-orcs the day before, but was disappointed that he could tell us nothing more about their aims or purposes.

"I know naught of these half-breeds," said Maegamiel in disgust, "Save that their coming to Eregion heralds nothing good for me and my people. I hope very much that our efforts against them yesterday will serve as a deterrent to any others which may seek to harry our lands."

"Maintain your vigilance, good Maegamiel," Gaelira told him, "I fear that more evil things than these may be nigh to you, though as yet we know them not."

The Elves watched somberly as we headed south from the ruins in which they had made their homes. The Sun was now fully in the heavens, but the cloud cover remained and this caused the day to be comfortably cool, though the wind would still gust at times. Following an ancient road, we turned this way and that before fording a deep stream. Lagodir was kind enough to allow me to cross while astride his broad shoulders, though he mocked me lightly for refusing to learn how to swim.

Once ashore on the far side, occasional drops of rain began falling, so it was decided we would break for lunch under a nearby clump of ash-trees and see what the weather meant to do. As I absent-mindedly munched some cram in the midst of the howling wind, my thoughts began to wander. What were the half-orcs doing so close to Mirobel? What was the meaning of the black wolf-hides we found everywhere amidst their camp? Had Elrond or Malkan found any trace of Minasse since our departure from Rivendell? And what did Gaelira hope to learn from her mysterious informant in Dunland, to whose abode we were now headed? Finally, what of Inar and the Seekers of the Seven Stars? Were we being hunted even now?

I broke from my reverie and looked around. The faces of my companions were glum and downcast, probably because of the grey and depressing weather. Still, I had been on the road with that bunch long enough to know a great deal about them just from each person's demeanor, so I opened my eyes (as it were) and peered a bit closer.

To the casual onlooker Lagodir would have appeared subdued, even unhappy. But I who had come to know him even in the depths of his life's greatest trials thus far knew that he was in fact lighter of spirit than he had been since we first met. He had lost some of his hulking strength from those days, but his sinews remained hard and his will unbroken. In his eyes I saw both persistence and a renewed sense of purpose.

Drodie might also seem depressed to some, but that would be the mistake of an observer less well acquainted with him than I. He was merely bored -- absent any foe against which to test his will and enhance his glory, he saw little point in doing much else. As he slowly drew a whetstone across the curved edge of his axe, I saw his eyes sparkling with imaginary duels fought and adversaries vanquished. There was no need to be concerned for him.

Nephyn was another matter: our Company is often a quiet lot while on the road (particularly of late, under threat of being followed), but Nephyn could always be counted on to lighten our mood. Today, however, it was as though all power of speech had been taken from her. Even when directly addressed she had done little more than nod or shake her head in response, and I was growing worried for her. I wondered if perhaps the fact that we were headed directly for Dunland (that region being the birth-place of one of her missing parents, you may remember) might have had something to do with this. I could only guess at what sorts of thoughts might be racing through her mind as we marched south.

And then there was Gaelira. She was standing, as she often did, with her staff in hand and her sword at her belt. The wind would whip her raiment and her hair about wildly when it stirred, but she was the same rock I had always known her to be. And yet, despite her solid and determined nature, I could see her eyes searching the horizon -- many questions resounded inside that keen mind to which she had not the answers. I saw in her a sort of metaphor for our entire Company: strong, resolute, and true, yet ever in doubt because of the untiring winds that threaten to overturn us. Those winds are wild and dangerous, blowing from sources unseen and with purposes that we cannot discern, but still our loyalty to each other keeps us on our feet and always moving toward the fulfillment of our quest.

And then a thought flashed into my mind: what now was our quest? For the longest time our goal had been the recovery of the palantir held by Mordirith in Carn Dum. Gaelira had selflessly pledged herself to the recovery and use of that crystal, but now the relic was now lost to us, by all accounts; seized by Amarthiel, as the new regent of Angmar when our plans went so horribly wrong in the North. Since then, our fates had seemed to become interwoven with so many other places and things: Mallacai, Inar, Guloth, Amarthiel, Elrond, Minasse, and others. It was all become rather confusing and I suddenly wondered how long our Company might stick together, if we should lose a common purpose.

But then, as if from outside my own mind, came an image of Luean. Not as I had last seen him, cruelly hewn in the dirt and rubble which littered the floors of Tham Mirdain, but rather in the fullness of life, smiling, and exploring the wide world that he loved. I felt my will hardening within me. We owed our friend that, at least: to find the reason for his murder and bring his killer or killers to justice. The discovery of Inar's message near his body had inspired us to examine the possibility that the Seekers were somehow involved, and that was why Gaelira was leading us away from Eriador but toward her friend in Dunland -- in the hopes that we might learn something of value there. Friendship demanded that we unravel this mystery once and for all.

"Padryc!"

Jolted from my thoughts, I saw it was Drodie speaking to me.

"Are you going to eat our entire store of cram before noon? I thought you hated the stuff?" I suddenly realized I had continued eating absent-mindedly all that time. Sheepishly, I put the food away and wondered aloud whether it was time we were moving on.

The rain never materialized though the weather remained grey and drear. At this point we were hemmed between a rise of steep hills to the west (our right) and the river to the east (our left), so we continued due south between the two. We covered many more miles before halting again. It was not yet dusk, though the sky was just beginning to turn orange, but we were all tired and miserable because the damp air never allowed us to properly dry ourselves after wading through the river (in this situation, I was better off than my companions, having not gotten wet much at all above the ankles, thanks to Lagodir's generous offer). As a result, we decided to end the day's efforts in a little dell which was ringed with trees on all sides.

"This has a nice, cozy feel to it," I remarked as we began to settle ourselves down. "And most convenient! I wish all of our nightly rests could be had under similar accommodations. At least these trees will help to keep out the wind."

"That is my hope as well," said Nephyn, and I was surprised to hear her speak. "Though I would sooner choose a less exposed location. I wonder if we could manage to find a spot further up in the hills?"

"We should have little fear of discovery in this land," said Lagodir. "There are no settlements around us for many miles, or so it was when last I passed this way."

"When was that?" I asked.

"Nigh onto a year ago now," came the Gondorian's reply, "When I made my way north through the Gap of Rohan, among the Dunlendings, and thence into Eriador. I remember well the wide, trackless moors with little succor to be found for a lone wanderer upon the road. Glad am I to be among friends as I walk those paths now a second time, for the journey was a long and lonely one indeed."

There was not much talk beyond this was we all prepared to rest for the night. Lagodir, Drodie, and I were sort of bunched together on the eastern edge of the dell while Gaelira was standing on the lip, peering south. Nephyn, though, had removed herself to the western edge and continued her silent brooding. I wondered very much what was causing her to become so withdrawn.

Suddenly there was a terrible cry from behind us! Turning, I saw the shape of a Man outlined on the crest of the dell against the dimming sky -- his hands clasped a battle-axe over his head as he rushed down upon us! I was too stunned to react properly while Drodie and Lagodir fumbled for their weapons. Gaelira came running, but almost instantly I heard a swzzipp! A brown-feathered arrow sprang from the Man's heart and he fell over, dead. Turning, we saw Nephyn lower her bow.

"By thunder!" Drodie barked, "That was a praiseworthy shot, young huntress. I thought the smelly brute was going to cleave one of us in half before you -- Nephyn?" She had sunk to her knees and her face had lost its colour. We all rushed to her aid.

"Neph!" I cried. "What is it? Are you hurt?"

"I... I...," she stammered, her eyes transfixed on the fallen intruder. "Is he all right?"

"Who? Him?" I asked, bewildered. "I certainly hope not! What was he about, anyway, charging at us for no reason like that? But Neph, what on earth is the matter?"

"It's... I just... for the first time in my life I've finally met someone who looks like me. And I killed him."

I looked back at the corpse and saw she was right. The Man was sturdily built with wild hair and a matted beard, but his skin and eyes were all dark -- there was an obvious kindred between our attacker and our friend, though I thought I could see something a bit different in Nephyn as well.

"I guess I can't argue with you there," I said, more than a bit reluctantly. "Still, you did what you had to, didn't you? He was about to reduce one of us to very small pieces, if he'd had his way; I don't think he brought that axe along as a party-favour."

"The hobbit's got the right of it, lass," said Drodie as he prepared to haul the body off for burial. "Don't you go worrying yourself about this one -- I'll make sure he's taken care of. Erm, buried and all that, of course, but well-hidden, mark you."

"I would... just like to be alone right now, that's all," said Nephyn, and she abruptly left the dell heading west.

"She shouldn't be wandering alone out in the dark," I exclaimed, "What if there are more ruffians out there? Someone stop her!"

"Let her be," said Gaelira. "I will shadow her footsteps and ensure no harm comes to her, but mind yourselves! Keep your eyes and ears open -- and make sure the Dwarf does his job properly." Then Gaelira vanished into the gathering dark while Lagodir made to follow Drodie.

"Those two can fend for themselves," he said to me. "Padryc, you get a fire going and I will return straightaway -- I'd like a look at that body before Drodie makes it disappear." The next thing I knew I was alone at the campsite. I threw up my hands in frustration.

"Why doesn't anyone listen to me?" I griped to the trees, but I did as I was told and soon had a small fire burning at the very bottom of the dell, well shielded from the wind which, though lessened considerably from earlier in the day, would still occasionally gust with some force. Every slight noise had my jumping out of my skin while I remained there alone, but my fears were needless as Lagodir and Drodie returned after only a brief time.

"I could learn very little from our unwanted visitor," said Lagodir as he sat down upon a flat stone. "He was a Dunlending, of that there can be no doubt, and there was nothing particularly remarkable about him."

"What?" I blinked. "Do you mean to say we are in Dunland already?"

"No, that land lies yet many leagues to the south," came Lagodir's reply. "We are only just now on the very borders of the Enedwaith, a rough and borderless country. And that is one point which is certainly curious -- I never knew his kind to be seen so far north of their homeland, which makes me wonder what is afoot there. But also this: when I was last among that people, the males always carried with them some token or symbol of the clan to which they belonged. It is not uncommon with these lesser Men of Darkness (such is the name we have for them in Gondor), and their clans are usually associated with natural things, especially animals: goats, oxen, deer, birds of prey, and so forth. But this Man bore no such token, which I find most unusual."

"And why did he attack us?" I asked.

"Highway robbery, no doubt," growled Drodie with a wave of his hand. "Probably figured one of us would have some gear worth pinching, and he wouldn't be far wrong at that."

"Perhaps," said Lagodir with a frown, but I read in his voice that he was not convinced. I didn't speak my own thought that highway robbery typically involved multiple robbers and, well, a highway -- both of which were notably absent in our case.

I sat there worrying about Nephyn and Gaelira for a while, but eventually they both returned, safe and sound. The remainder of the evening was spent largely in silence as we kept watch in the hopes of avoiding any more unwanted guests.

Monday, 24th of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Enedwaith

The day dawned clear and blue, as much a contrast to the day before as one could wish for. We breakfasted quickly, scattered the ashes of our little fire, and moved on with minimal delay. According to Lagodir and Gaelira, both of whom had previously travelled through that land, we should attempt to put as many miles as possible behind us each day since there was little hope of restoring our supplies at any point on the journey. There were few inhabitants along the path, for one thing, but those as did exist were not to be readily trusted -- the allegiances of the Algraig (the Men of the Enedwaith, and even more so of the Dunlendings, from what they told us) were flimsy and fickle; they held the Men of the North as condescending overlords and they feared the Elder Kindred. There was not much we could do to obscure our own identities, of course: the height of Drodie and myself left little doubt as to our kind while no one would ever mistake the bearing of Lagodir and Gaelira for anything other than what they were. Nephyn continued her silence from the day before and cast her hood over her face, yet she alone among us had any real hope of blending in.

We headed south at once, and for all the morning we encountered no difficulties. The land was rocky and uneven, but it was fair in a wild and untamed way which held its own sort of natural beauty. I continued to see the occasional holly-tree, but the sight became more and more isolated until it ceased altogether. Around the noon hour we suddenly came upon a rough track which led up into some hills to our right. We followed this as it wound among several boulders and then discovered ourselves in a set of tumbled ruins atop a low rise.

"Elven-make, by the look of them," said Lagodir, and I was inclined to agree. It must have been an age since any Elves lived there, however, judging from the worn and sad state of those stones which remained, lingering.

We lunched in that place and soon the day began to turn hot. The path we had followed into the ruins did not lead out of them, so we improvised a way down the western slopes of the hills into a ravine in order to continue our journey south. We were surprised to find that direction only led to impassable drops off of cliffs at a depth of fifteen or twenty ells, and these we found constantly to our south and west. Because of this, we were obliged to trek south and east, but soon enough that brought us to trouble.

Being driven by the cliffs to our right, we had just clambered up another small rise when I was suddenly forced onto the grass by Nephyn's firm grip. I saw the entire Company had followed suit, and I wondered what was going on, but I held my tongue. Gaelira signaled that we should all look eastward, and so we did using the greatest of care.

What we saw as we peeped over the edge of the hill caught me rather off guard: there below us in a little depression was an entire camp of Men (and Women, too), quite well-ordered and brimming with all manner of supplies and weaponry. They were Dunlendings, as well as I could make out and, while their numbers were not great, they looked to be a fearsome people. We had very nearly exposed ourselves while coming up over the crest of the hill, but the others' quick thinking appeared to have spared us, for the Dunlendings made no sign they had seen our approach.

"What do you make of that, Lagodir?" I heard Gaelira whisper nearby. Lagodir craned his neck to see the full expanse of the camp in the dell below us.

"Outlaws," he said after a short time. "Deserters, perhaps, but I cannot be certain without a closer look at them and their gear. They are remarkably well-supplied for being this far from any settlement that I can recall. And here again I see the oddity of which I spoke to Padryc and Drodie yestereve: I can see no sign of any banner, token, or charge among them which might declare their loyalties."

"How many?" asked Drodie. I was wondering the same thing, but no doubt for quite different reasons than the Dwarf.

"I count at least three dozen," came Lagodir's reply, "But there may well be more in the hills behind."

"Oh, c'mon, we can take 'em!" said Drodie, the light of battle gleaming in his eyes. Both Nephyn and I shot him an exasperated look, but he paid us no mind.

"Let us not draw blade needlessly," said Gaelira, her voice tinged with confusion. "Like as not this troop has nothing whatever to do with us, nor do they know we are here. The trust borne our ilk by those who inhabit this land is uncertain enough already without exacerbating it through pointless bloodshed. Come -- if we can find some way to head south or east then we can avoid them completely."

After a brief search we did discover a way: there was a gentle rock-slope nearby that we were able to slide down, and from there the land became easier to traverse. We gave the outlaw-camp a wide berth to the east, but then we heard the baying of wolves coming up from the south, ahead of us. This caused us to swerve further eastward yet again, and Gaelira became very anxious because so many unforeseen obstacles were driving us well out of our intended direction.

After a few more hours of heading east or southeast against our will, we spied what looked to be a crude dwelling atop a low ridge of hills. We debated among ourselves whether or not to approach it and beg guidance from the inhabitants, a point over which we were sharply divided. In the end, the ayes carried the vote, and we made our way thither. The place turned out to be a single, large, oval-shaped hut -- the walls were of stone while the roof was thatched. From the tilled earth surrounding it, we surmised we had come upon the humble abode of a farmer and his small family.

As we were pondering this, a Woman suddenly appeared in the entrance to the hut, eyeing us suspiciously. She spoke the Common Tongue well enough, though it was heavily accented, so we were able to assure her we meant no harm and that we only sought the quickest way to travel south. Through word and sign we gathered there was a natural gorge which ran south from her home that would eventually lead over a swift-running river by way of a stone bridge. This path, however, was recently plagued by wolves, for which the Woman had no name that we could recognize. She seemed genuinely afraid of the beasts, and I thought that strange for someone accustomed to living well apart from any large settlement, as she and her family would clearly be.

We thanked her many times for her kindness (in truth, she struck me as being cooperative mostly out of fear, but I'll take that over hostility any day), and we made to leave in peace. Gaelira, in standard Elvish fashion, bowed in respect to the Woman, but in so doing she revealed Nephyn, who had hidden herself behind the rest of us. One look at her, and the Woman flew into a rage: she screamed at us in her own language, motioning for us to be gone before retreating inside her house and slamming the door in our faces. Bewildered, our Company quit the place at once and fled from her lands. I thought it fortunate that her husband or sons (assuming she had any) were not nearby enough to give us any trouble.

The sun was already setting by the time we had put a comfortable amount of distance between us and the aggrieved native. We nestled ourselves among some boulders and prepared to bed down for the night, but each of us was disturbed by the day's events.

"I was surprised to see so many Dunlendings this far to the north," said Gaelira. "Like Lagodir, I never saw anything like it when last I was in this land."

"And what were they doing, I should like to know?" I asked. "Are all Dunlendings so war-like?"

"It is the natural state of their people," said Lagodir, not bothering to hide his contempt.

"One could say the same of Gondor," Nephyn shot back acidly. It was the first time I had heard her speak all day, but her tone shocked me far more than her finally breaking silence. I thought for a moment Lagodir was going to respond, but he merely shrugged his shoulders.

"As unusual as it was," said Gaelira cautiously, "Our encounter with the Algraig Woman at her home was even more confounding, in a way. She did not trust us, of course, and she aided us mostly out of fear, but her sudden change upon seeing Nephyn has me truly perplexed."

"Indeed!" Drodie exclaimed. "I would expect to be shunned in this land, and yet that Woman flies into a rage at the sight of the only one among us who looks anything at all like her!"

"I do not look anything at all like her!" cried Nephyn as she stood. "She is of the Algraig -- I have Dunlendish blood, you stupid Dwarf! Even if none of us speak her tongue, can't any of you see? She is afraid that my people have come to conquer her people, and she hates me for it." Tears starting in her eyes, Nephyn left our circle to sit at the base of a tree some distance off.

Our camp has been a quiet one this evening, and I have had time to ponder the meaning of all that was said earlier. It occurred to me that perhaps some of us had not given much thought to the customs and traditions of the people whose land through which we now travel, but one of our Company traces at least part of her lineage to this region. Nephyn did eventually rejoin us and apologized for her outburst, but the rest of us begged her forgiveness as well for our lack of insight (even Drodie). The huntress tried to act as if the whole episode was of no great moment, but I who knew her best could see she remained deeply troubled.

Trewsday, 25th of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Enedwaith

All such issues were largely forgotten by the morning, not least because the howling of the wolves seemed unending during the night. I've heard more than a few wolf-cries in my day; I've even gotten to the point I can distinguish them from Warg-cries, and those are most vile, but what I heard today day in the wilds of the Enedwaith was truly blood-chilling. It was as if the beasts were calling to us with fell-voices which spoke of death.

In the light of day, however, the power of those voices grew less, and we pressed onward following the guidance we had received from the Algraig Woman the day before. As she had told us, the ravine ran in winding ways amidst the hills for many miles, but ever greater grew the sense that something evil was stalking our tracks. It was late morning when we came upon a network of caves in the hills and we knew that we had found the source of those voices.

I will not willingly tell much of what I saw there, for the fear it of haunts me still. The wolves which inhabited that place were unlike any I had ever seen in my life -- and I hope to never see again. They were black, but not black like any ordinary black-furred animal, for even the darkest beast will have subtle variations in their colour. These creatures were as black as jet while the air around them seemed to bend and warp in a frightening way; they were clearly not of the natural world. Their eyes were as piercing as swords, their fangs gleamed with a foul light, but always it was the cries of their mouths which was the most terrifying.

Of our Company, only Gaelira did not wish to leave at once; she insisted that we explore those caverns and discern the source of the monsters. Held by nothing more than her will and our bond of friendship, we dared to enter their den. The wolves fled before the light of her face, but Gaelira did not seek to battle the apparitions. Instead, she discovered the presence of many strange torches on the walls of those caves -- torches which put forth a stench and a dark, impure light that seemed to illuminate nothing. These she threw down and extinguished one by one until the sense of crushing malice around us was greatly diminished, and only then did we emerge gasping into the Sun-filled air once more. We put many miles between ourselves and the dens before halting, but when we asked Gaelira what she thought it all meant she could not give an answer.

"Those spectres were placed there, obviously," she said with downcast eyes, "But by whom or for what purpose, I cannot say any more than you. They may have had something to do with the black wolf-hides we found among the half-orcs, and they may not. We shall have to be content that we may have delayed the designs of their masters, but I fear we have accomplished little else this day."

Hevensday, 26th of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Enedwaith

Today was another fair one, such that it nearly erased all memory of the horror we had found in the wolf-dens yesterday. By now it was clear we had been travelling much too far to the east, so Gaelira led us almost due westward. There was some debate as to whether we ought not journey in a southwesterly direction, since the bridge crossing the stream mentioned by the Algraig Woman was supposed to lie that way, and so we would be going in a much straighter line to reach it. The thinking prevailed, however, that if we could locate the Great North Road (which lay somewhere to the west), then we would make excellent time and compensate for our previous detours.

For once I can say our reasoning proved well-founded: the trek back to the west was slow and ponderous, but after a day's travel we have indeed found the Road. We are camped now just a stone's throw from it in a small copse of firs. Tomorrow should be a good day in making up for lost time, assuming the weather holds.

Mersday, 27th of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Enedwaith

The weather was outstanding today, as fine as you could ask. We got started early, for we were all eager to put this strange land behind us, and the Great North Road certainly aided in that regard. Despite being of ancient make, the Road ran straight and true, south to north, and it was well-laid and smooth. We must have covered at least fifty miles today, maybe a little more, but I have a curious tale to relate which befell along the way.

It was probably half-past the second hour from noon. The five of us were enjoying the excellent clime (the Road reduced the need for exertion, which made hiking a much more pleasant experience), when from up ahead we heard the most peculiar sound: it was a deep-throated voice singing an odd and lilting ditty, a snatch of which I was able to remember.

Hey! Dain the Dwarf had an iron foot,
His beard was full and long,
His axe of steel and his steed of pork,
Dain's legend lives in song!

Oh, Nain's son, grandson of Gror,
Who founded the Iron Hills,
A stripling young, near Khazad-dum,
Azog the Accursed he killed.

Then armies five clashed on the slopes
Of golden Erebor,
With Elves and Men and eagles swift
Lord Dain rode to war.

The Orcs he smote with crip'ling blows,
They fled before his hand,
Yet Thorin King fell in that fight,
Now Dain rules the land.

Hey! Dain the King has an iron foot,
His beard still full and long,
What means it, to be Ironfoot?
Who cares?! His rule is strong!

There came into view a Dwarf riding a white goat. Most of his raiment was white also, which is an uncommon thing among Dwarves in any land I have ever visited. It was not a leap to suppose he was far from home (since most anyone would be in that land), but his bulging saddlebags and weather-worn cloak belied a well-travelled sort. Drodie was particularly excited to meet a kinsman on the Road, for he sang of the King Under the Mountain and the Iron Hills far to the north and east, so we hailed him. Turning his steed, the Dwarf waved at us and even dismounted to bow when we approached.

"Odec, at your service!" he said. His beard was black as a raven's wing, but his eyes were merry and he smiled broadly at us. "My, my! What would cause such unusual companions to journey along such a lonely road in such a desolate land? No doubt there's a tale worth hearing behind this!"

"I should say there is," Drodie replied, "But I would equally like to know what brings a Dwarf across the endless leagues from Erebor to the same place. No doubt there is a tale worth hearing behind that!"

"Ha! Well turned, kinsman, and I would expect no less," said Odec with a laugh. "But since I perceive behind your question a desire to hide your purposes until you learn of my own, then you shall have your way for I've naught to hide. I hail from the Iron Hills, not Erebor, though I did stop there on my way. I bear a summons from Dain, King Under the Mountain, to his distant but dear friend Nar in Thror's Coomb, which is some ways south and east of where we now stand. There! You now all there is worth knowing about Odec, so what of your own tale?"

"A single messenger dispatched across all that wide distance?" asked Drodie. "I would think the king's words worthy of more... surety."

"I have seen my share of miles, friend," answered Odec with a wink, "Nor am I entirely defenceless." Here, he reached up and patted a compact and cleverly-wrought crossbow which hung from his saddle. "But enough dodging -- come! Tell me who is it I have the pleasure of meeting in this forsaken land! I had taken to composing songs in my boredom, but I would much sooner speak with travelling companions for, as you no doubt heard, mine is not the voice of a minstrel."

We laughed then introduced ourselves one-by-one, starting with Drodie. Odec was very interested in us, but he was courteous and did not press overmuch about our errand since we were obviously not inclined to discuss it in any detail. We walked together the rest of that day (Odec as well, leading his goat by the halter, so as to give his "poor backside" a rest, he said), and the conversation was always lively and interesting. At dusk, we could hear the rushing of water, and Odec said we should halt for the night.

"Yonder lies the Araniant," he said, "The great stone bridge which spans the swift river that divides the Enedwaith into its two chief regions, north and south. Tomorrow we will cross together, but shortly thereafter I shall leave you, for you tell me your errand is to Dunland and the south while my duty takes me eastward."

He led us off the Road into a thicket, and there we made camp. We exchanged stories of our respective travels deep into the night, with each subsequent tale being more incredible than the last. I finally drifted off to sleep with visions of Dwarf-battles and greedy dragons racing through my mind.

Highday, 28th of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Enedwaith

We crossed the Araniant first thing in the morning without trouble. On the southern side of the river the trees suddenly failed, and all the land before us wide, flat, and empty. The winds swept over all that bare country while the tall grasses swayed this way and that at its will. We continued along the Road a bit further but, as he had said before, Odec was obliged to part ways with us shortly thereafter.

"Crossing paths with you lot has been the most pleasant thing that's befallen me on this long journey since I feasted at the King's table beneath the Lonely Mountain," he said. "I dearly hope we might do so again, as unlikely as that might seem." Raising his hand in farewell, he turned his goat off the Road and slowly disappeared into the East, his deep voice merrily rolling back over the plains toward us as he sang.

"Nice chap, what?" I said as I watched him go. "It's a pity we don't meet more folk like him on our travels. Can't say I would mind hearing his storytelling more of an evening, though they did tend to be a bit gory and somewhat more, ah well, Dwarvish than I would normally go in for."

"That's only because you didn't get the full experience," said Drodie with a grin. "What you were missing was a few mugs of ale inside you. Then you'd be in the right spirit!"

Our Company was in fine spirits indeed the rest of that day as we continued south along the Road. Near the end of the day, we saw a rising hill up ahead and to our right, atop which was a crude wooden palisade.

"That is one of the few settlements one will find in the Enedwaith," said Lagodir as he pointed. "It is called Lhanuch by its people, the Algraig, if my memory serves. We should be able to avoid being seen from its walls if we turn east and keep among the tall grasses there."

"It would be my counsel that we avoid them not," countered Gaelira. "We have seen much which is mysterious in this land, and I would endeavor to find some answers to our many questions. What better way to do so than by walking among those who know the land best?"

"I do not think this counsel is good," said Lagodir, "But I am willing to adventure it, if it be your advice. Still, I would think it best if Nephyn not enter there -- let her and Padryc remain outside the walls so that none of us are left alone, while you, Drodie, and I attempt to treat with these Men."

I was afraid Nephyn might take offence at Lagodir's suggestion, but in fact she seemed to think it wise. We took up position just out of bowshot from the walls of Lhanuch behind a shallow rock-wall and waited for our companions to return. The shadows lengthened while we sat there, but our fears proved needless when the three of them rejoined us just as dusk was filling the sky.

"The people of Lhanuch were not hostile," Gaelira reported, "Though they do not trust us and gladly accepted our offer to camp outside their walls tonight. We told them only that we are journeying swiftly as may be through the Enedwaith and mean them no harm. They were even willing to sell us what meager supplies are among their stores, although at exorbitant prices."

"Hmph! Some hospitality," I huffed. "I'll be perfectly happy out here, thank you very much."

"You and I are in agreement on that point, Master Hobbit," said Lagodir. "Still, our visitation was not without its value. We learned that many companies of Dunlendings and also half-orcs have passed north through the Enedwaith of late, though of course that we knew already. What interests me is that the Algraig speak of unrest in Dunland and the splintering of the tribes there. Personally, I welcome these tidings: if the enemies of Rohan have become less united, then perhaps their feud with the Rohirrim, true-hearted allies of my people, may at last come to its long-awaited end. Like as not the unmarked troop we saw two days' past was a company of deserters even as I had said at the time: Men who are dissatisfied with the shifting politics of their folk. Perhaps the Dunlendings are become split on whether they should continue to pursue their hopeless conflict against the Horse-lords? Indeed, it must be so, for what other foes have they? I deem this good news for Gondor and Rohan, and therefore good news for the Free Peoples."

"I do not agree," said Gaelira, shaking her head. "If the loyalties of the Dunland tribes have indeed begun to fracture, then why now? Have not they maintained their hatred of the Rohirrim for many lives of Men? What has happened to cause this shift of which you speak? I sense an ill-meaning hand in this matter, but the mind which guides it is hidden from me. Be that as it may, the three of us should be able to secure some additional foodstuffs to restock our supplies in the morning, ere we go."

We spent the night in silence, each busy with his or her own thoughts. It seemed we were walking straight into the land of a combative folk that were in the midst of some sort of upheaval. I think that I, like Nephyn, will try to keep a low profile for the foreseeable future.

Thursday, May 10, 2018

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 64.2

Return to Mirobel

Sterday, 8th of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The High Moor, Somewhere in the Trollshaws
A mysterious encampment
The next morning began overcast and dreary, which was a perfect mirror of my own feelings at having to leave Rivendell yet again. We gathered in the courtyard of Elrond's House to bid him and many of his household farewell (Mr. Baggins was there too; he made me promise to bring back a sketch of something called a gwirod, but I was never able to gather from his rambling exactly what one is), then we hoisted our packs and the journey began. There was no fanfare or pomp during our departure -- to me, it felt as if we were off to the butcher's to grab a side of beef and we were expected home before lunch.

In reality, of course, we were setting out for Dunland, a remote and harsh land somewhere well south of the Doors to Moria. My knowledge of that region was as sparse as its population -- from what I could gather according to my companions -- and I'm still not entirely sure whether its inhabitants are to be trusted. Still, our arrival there is some weeks off, so there's no point in worrying about such things now.

The air was damp and stuffy as we climbed up, up, up the winding pathway which led out of the Valley. The grey, overcast skies delayed the onset of the day's heat, but the humidity had us all sweating and blowing long before we reached the Gates of Imladris and passed onto the High Moor. At that point (this would have been roughly ten in the morning, more or less), we suddenly saw breaks in the clouds, and before long the Sun was shining through with her full force. The combination of wet air and hot Sun with no wind had me in a misery for hours, and I think the others felt it too, for we managed fewer than twenty miles the remainder of the day, including more rests than usual. Some of these were deliberate, I later realized, as Gaelira was eager to protect the health of Lagodir, who was still newly recovered from his previous travails.

We ended up settling down for the night rather earlier than usual: it was probably little more than the fifth hour from noon when we began seeking a cool place to rest, and once we had located a suitable copse of fir-trees we wasted no time in bringing the day's efforts to a close. I ended up making us a campfire in spite of the heat because the insects have been merciless: they are after the salt in our perspiration, and the smoke helps to keep them away. No one has spoken much all day.

Sunday, 9th of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Near the Ford of Bruinen, Somewhere in the Trollshaws

Yesterday's clouds burned away in the early morning to leave the sky high, dry, and hotter than before. We did our best to travel under the boughs of whatever trees we could find, but even still the day was long and uncomfortable. If you've ever found yourself in a similar situation, you know that speaking is never high on your list of things to do; it's hard to concentrate on anything besides your burning skin, dripping forehead, and leaden feet.

We reached the Ford of Bruinen about the third hour after noon, and the crossing was the highlight of the day. The water was clear and cool as we splashed merrily through, reinvigorating our tired limbs. On the far bank, the trees grew much more densely, and we were able to relax in their pleasant shade. The time came to move on, but none of us had any desire to go further that day, so we delayed, delayed, and delayed our departure some more until it became obvious our Company was going no further before dawn. Instead, we settled down to a cheerful fire and a hearty meal of beef and carrot stew (served up by P. Pemberton!), of which no one turned down seconds.

Our bellies filled, we lazed about the campfire and waited for night to close in. Gaelira kept insisting we would need to march twice as long tomorrow to make up for the time we had lost today, and we all somberly agreed to do so, but of course none of us really meant it. To change the subject, I started chatting about all the strange and wonderful creatures we had seen on our journeys together -- Bleakwind and Brullug, the Bone Man, the Chetwood Warg, and others. Then Lagodir told us of the marvellous fauna one could find in his homeland, far away to the South. Drodie would hint at incredible beings which inhabit the deep places of the world, and soon we all realized that Middle-earth was fair teeming with amazing things in every crack and crevice. We also began to think at how magnificent were the ordinary, everyday animals of our own mundane lives, only they ceased to seem so through familiarity. Of these, horses appeared to capture everyone's fancy the strongest, and not (I think) only because we all wish we owned some after two days' walking in the hot Sun!

"Oh, how I love horses," said Nephyn wistfully, "Always have. They seem like such noble beasts."

"That's because they are, in truth," said Lagodir. "The Men of Gondor, at least those who do not travel far from home, see little of animals as they have never been kept in our lands in great number -- aside from oxen and the like. But I have been to Rohan, land of the Horse-lords, and there I have seen creatures of such majesty that I find it scarcely fitting to call them horses and not some grander name. Some of them I would swear can think as sharply as you or I; you can see it in their glance."

"What a wonder!" said Nephyn, truly enthralled. "How I wish I could meet one! Do you think our travels might ever take us to Rohan?"

"It is possible, I suppose," answered Lagodir. "Every step we take southward leads us nearer to the wolds of the Mark where Theoden rules in peace and contentment. When our adventures have run their course, I plan to return there in quiet retirement."

"A little young for that aren't you?" Nephyn scoffed. "You don't look a day over thirty to me -- hardly more than three or four years my senior, I would say."

"I have seen my share of seasons," Lagodir replied with a grin. "This year began my eight and fiftieth upon this Middle-earth."

"What!?" Nephyn and I cried together. "How?"

"The blood of Numenor runs nearly true in my veins as it has in all the House of Turma before me," Lagodir replied. "Such was the will of the Valar when they gifted Numenor to my people and Elros, their first king, in ages long past. Did you not say your mentor, the one we met at the Prancing Pony named Saeradan, was a descendant of the North Kingdom? How old is he?"

"Why, he's --" Nephyn began to answer, then blinked. "You know, I don't think I ever asked him. He was always a grey-haired Man so long as I knew him -- I just never thought about it, I suppose."

"I expect he is a good deal older than you might take him for," said Lagodir. "The first king of Numenor lived to be five hundred years old and that lineage lives still in this world, though much has changed since those days."

"In any case you're remarkably well-preserved for someone your age," said Nephyn. "I must be little more than a child in your eyes."

"No more than I would think Padryc a child," answered Lagodir.

"That's appreciated," said Nephyn, "Though he is older than me, aren't you, Pad?"

"By about ten years, yes," I nodded and pointed to my chest. "Thirty-seven, or will be next month, anyway. Still, I only just 'came of age' (as we say in the Shire) a mere four years ago."

"Ah, yes -- I once heard about this from some Staddle-hobbits, I think," said Nephyn with a bright gleam in her eye. "You hobbits have a peculiar stage you call the tweens, do you not?"

"The irresponsible twenties, yes," I chuckled. "You can't trust any tween to not be up to mischief, really."

"Yourself included?" she asked me. "I'd wager you were a rascally youth!"

"Oh, not me!" I said with a laugh. "Not much of a handful at all, really, aside from giving my old dad a bit of trouble around the farm. There's not much mischief one can get up to when one's life revolves around the growing and selling of pipe-weed."

"That sounds like the perfect place to get into some mischief, if you ask me," smiled Nephyn. "What about your friends?"

"Well, there was this one hobbit I used to tease something awful, if I'm honest," I admitted. "Me and pretty much everyone else too, really."

"Padryc!" the huntress said reproachfully, "I would have never though you to be the bullying sort."

"Ah, well, I feel bad about it now, of course," I said, "Though it was the kind of thing we all did. And he was a very disagreeable sort of chap too."

"That doesn't make it right," she said. "What was his name?"

"Lotho," I replied. "Sackville-Baggins, but we all used to call him 'Pimple' due to his... unfortunate complexion."

"Hmph! I'm disappointed in you, Pad," she said, though her voice was light and playful. "I know what it's like to be put off due to appearances; if I am ever blessed with children, they will be taught to never make fun of others for things beyond their control."

"Well, things have a way of working themselves out, you know," I sighed. "You see, it was Lotho's dad Otho what bought out my dad's farm when that whole situation with the will wasn't properly handled. And then Lotho got it all through inheritance when Otho passed on five years back, so I got my comeuppance, one might say. It just goes to show you: don't make fun of others because... well, you just never know."

"Sound advice. I'd regale you with stories about my own social challenges, but if I did we'd likely all be sitting here til there was snow piled up around our chins. Drodie!" she called to the Dwarf as he took a pull on his ale-skin. "Did anyone ever make fun of you as a --"

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP!

"Never mind," Nephyn said as she rolled her eyes and cleared the air in front of her with her hand. "I suppose Gaelira's childhood was so long ago she couldn't be expected to remember much. What about you Lagodir? You look like you would have been a tall and sturdy youth -- I'd wager you never had to deal with such things."

"Not like what you describe, no," he said grimly, "But I had troubles of a different sort: my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather was a traitor to Gondor. He revealed a secret entrance beneath Minas Ithil to the servants of the Nameless One, and it became Minas Morgul."

"That's awful!" I cried. "Did your ancestor have a choice in the matter?"

"Yes, by all accounts," Lagodir replied. "At least, by what few accounts there were -- tens of thousands died when that city fell. Which is not the sort of thing your countrymen tend to forget, not even after more than nine hundred and fifty years have passed."

I suppose I don't have to tell you the conversation rather dried up after that. Gaelira had kept silent during our discussion and remained standing with her staff, staring out into the gathering dark. Night descended and we all slowly drifted off to sleep.

Monday, 10th of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Tal Bruinen, Somewhere in the Trollshaws

Another hot, long, boring day of marching. Today wasn't as bad, though, since we have been following the banks of the Bruinen, so every now and then we get to dunk our heads into the river to cool off. Judging from experience, it should be few more days yet before we pass into Eregion. It's Drodie's turn to cook tonight, which is always an... enlightening experience.

Sterday, 15th of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Eregion

It's been five days since my last entry and a full week since we left Rivendell. There really is nothing significant to report -- the land looks just as empty and sprawling as it did the last time we travelled through it, only now the summer weather has definitely arrived. We spent last night in some old ruins near an overlook. Elven, they seemed to me, but clearly abandoned long ago. Tonight we are camping in a thicket of holly-trees and Gaelira has ordered that we light no fire, so supper will have to be a cold one. I have no idea why she's worrying -- there's nothing going on around us for miles.

Highday, 21st of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Eregion

We've been walking south for another six days now and I am bored out of my mind. Unlike last time when we were headed for Moria, this time we are trying to take a more south-westerly track. Well, going this way, the holly-trees quickly end and there's nothing but flat, empty plains almost as far as the eye can see. Gaelira has asked that we keep our speech to a minimum, and today even I can feel how quiet it is here. It is a bit unsettling, actually.

It is now dusk. We just reached the Sirannon, but we are still too far to the east. Tomorrow we will have to travel west along the road and I'm told we should reach the Elves of Mirobel around noon. I wonder if we will have time to stop and visit Luean's grave?

Sterday, 22nd of Afterlithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Echad Mirobel, Somewhere in the Land of Eregion

We made good time: by my reckoning it was about half-past eleven when we strode into the ruins of Mirobel above the Sirannon's dry river-bed. The Elves' leader Maegamiel (who remembered us fondly from our previous visit) welcomed us with a smile, but we soon learned he and his people were disturbed by something going on near their settlement. He escorted us up a flight of crumbling stairs into a ruined tower, then pointed to the south.

"Is that a tent?" I asked as I peered out from under my hand. "I'd swear it wasn't there the last time we came this way."

"It was not," said Gaelira gravely. "Maegamiel, what kind are they that encroach upon you?"

"The pavilion was pitched during the night," Maegamiel replied. "They appear to be Men to our eyes, though we have not the skill, maybe, to tell one kind of mortal from another. Moreover, they are many and my people are very few. We were in council among ourselves when you arrived this morning; I was hoping you might help us decide what should be done?"

We agreed to lend our assistance, so Maegamiel began telling us everything he knew so far about the strange interlopers. During the conversation, however, two of his people returned from scouting the camp and reported their grim findings.

"They are Men," the scouts told us, "But they are dour-faced, swarthy brutes the like of which we have never seen before. They show no love for the growing things about them; they cut far more living wood than they could possibly need, even for as many as they are."

"But what are they doing?" Gaelira asked. "What brings them so close to your home?"

"We have not been able to discover their business," came the response, "But they are not hunters, for we see no trace of bow or shaft anywhere among all their equipment. There is one curious thing: encircling the camp are tanning racks, and they are laid many hides, drying in the Sun."

"Tanners?" Lagodir asked, confused. "Since when do tradesmen live, travel, or work anywhere near this place?"

"Not since the fall of Moria, an age ago," said Maegamiel with a frown. "There is something evil afoot in this, I doubt it not. Still, they have done us no insult or injury, and I would not risk battle when my own people are so few in number. What shall we do?"

"Let us try them in this manner," said Gaelira. "Have your folk hidden in the rocks and trees nearby, for in their keen eyes and true arrows we shall have the advantage (Nephyn and Padryc, too, will be among you). Meanwhile, Lagodir, Drodie, and I will go down and present ourselves peacefully to the camp. You shall judge how to deal with them from their reception of us."

"So be it," said Maegamiel. "But pray they have no crossbows among them, or other means of doing you harm from a distance."

We took some time to arrange our meager forces as Gaelira directed. Nephyn and I were positioned with Maegamiel atop a rocky outcropping where we were all but invisible behind a large boulder. Looking around, I could see some of Mirobel's folk stationed in various spots with their longbows at the ready. When all was prepared, Gaelira, Drodie, and Lagodir strode boldly out through the grass and within a stone's throw of the strange camp. It was far enough distant that I could not make out the words spoken, but I saw Lagodir raise his hand, palm outward, in sign of peace. Almost immediately, at least two dozen rough-looking figures emerged from inside the tent, all of them bearing a weapon of some sort. The tallest among them, who seemed to be the leader, gave a cry and his fellows rushed toward my companions, their weapons held high!

At once I heard a great whoosh as a dozen Elf-bows twanged. Half of the attackers instantly collapsed while the remaining ruffians stood there, dumbfounded. My friends charged their attackers as a shout went up from our forces and we all moved in. The battle was swift and deadly -- our enemies were utterly destroyed.

"Curious behaviour for a bunch of tanners, wouldn't you say?" laughed Drodie. "At least they showed some heart -- at first. May all of our victories not come so easily! I never even had the chance to shake the rust from my axe."

"These are half-orcs you have here, Maegamiel," said Gaelira as she turned over one of the fallen. "From what land the came I know not, but their business could not have been for our benefit."

"Whatever it was that brought them here, we might never know now," I said as I trotted up to the battlefield. "You lot did your job a bit too well there -- not a single one of them left alive to question!" We double-checked the damage to make sure, but I had spoken the truth. Even the leader, a great, brutish thug with a leering mouth full of large and rotting teeth, had been pierced through the neck by one of Nephyn's grey-feathered shafts. We decided to examine the camp and saw, as the scouts had told us, that the entire camp was indeed circled by tanning racks. On these were stretched the hides of...

"Wolves?" asked Nephyn as she cocked one eyebrow. "Are there wolves in this land? I don't recall seeing -- or hearing -- a single one either time we've travelled the length of Eregion."

"Then I trust you have not journeyed near Torech Andraug," said Maegamiel, "For that is a large wolf-den in Eregion. However, it lies far to the north and east of here and the beasts of that region are brown-furred whereas these hides are black as coal. I cannot say whence they might have come. Warg-packs sometimes roam these lands, but no one could possibly mistake these for Warg-pelts: they are much too small and lack the coarseness of their evil cousins."

"Indeed," said Lagodir. "Fortunately, your people are safe and our Company is used to seeing riddles such as this. Perhaps we will find answers as we continue our journey south."

"If you do, I hope you will find some way to inform me," said Maegamiel. "We are not accustomed to having armed neighbors with strange habits such as this. Whither do you sojourn, Gaelira?"

"To Dunland," the she-Elf answered, "To find answers to our own little riddles."

"I see," Maegamiel replied with a grin. "Then you are welcome to rest at Echad Mirobel in honour, for it was your assistance, and that of your friends, which may have spared my people much grief. Unless, of course, you wish to put more miles behind you before sundown?"

"No, I think our journey for today is done," said Gaelira. "I know our Company would like very much to visit the resting place of our friend Luean ere we depart."

"And in any case we should destroy this ramshackle tent," said Drodie. "It wouldn't do to leave it laying around in case this lot has friends that might come looking for them later."

Everyone agreed this was sound counsel, so we spent a few hours dismantling the half-orcs' camp. Although we went through every piece of debris there was, we never learned anything more about their purpose. And in all the wreckage no one found any sign of hunting gear: no bows, no arrows, nothing. I could tell this fact disturbed everyone a great deal, especially Gaelira, but I couldn't make head nor tails of it myself.

Finally, the work completed, we accompanied Maegamiel and his people back to their settlement. There we were treated to an excellent meal and singing under the stars. As the night deepened, the five of us made our way down to the library of Tham Mirdain. There, just beyond the ancient doors of that place, we stood in silent respect for Luean, our lost companion. No one spoke, but we all remembered him fondly, for he was a true friend and a happy soul. One by one, we each slowly turned away until it was only Nephyn and myself remaining, hand-in-hand. The stars overhead were burning brightly, and I thought about how Luean, like so many of his kind, loved them dearly. I found no words to say, but I gently squeezed Nephyn's hand and left her to begin returning to Mirobel. As I walked away, I heard the young Woman's whisper carried to my ears by the gentle night breeze.

"I'm sorry Luean," she said, "We haven't found your killers yet." I walked on.

"But we will."