The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 69

The Bargainer Strikes Back

Trewsday, 2nd of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Pren Gwydh, Somewhere in Dunland

The Mange-rider

The five of us stood there, dumbfounded. We had all gotten used to the idea of being hunted since knowing (or strongly suspecting) that Inar's Seekers of the Seven Stars were on our trail. Then the spectre of Izarrair had also emerged to haunt our steps, but not until then had we seen irrefutable proof that there was a price on our heads.

"This is terrible!" I exclaimed. As if to add gravity to the situation, the Sun sank behind the western hills even as the words left my mouth and night sprang into the sky.

"I must agree," Lagodir dead-panned. "To think that someone values your head at thrice that of ours!"

"You're not funny," I huffed as I snatched the half-burnt billet out of his hands. "It's bad enough that the people of Dunland are so hostile to outsiders as it is -- now we'll have them hunting us through every crevice of this rocky land! Just who would want us dead?! And what is so special about me anyway? I would have thought myself the least valuable among all our Company. None of this makes any sense to me."

"I also find it puzzling," said Gaelira, her brows knit together in a worried frown. "We know already that both Izarrair and Inar are interested in our movements. Izarrair has certainly made his intentions clear, but what need would he have for publishing such a bounty when we have met him face-to-face twice already upon the Road? Yet each time he demurred. On the surface, I would think Inar might have more use for such proclamations since I do not believe the Seekers have ever had much of a presence in Dunland. The problem with that, however, is this would not be an effective way to keep the matter quiet -- certainly not if your objective was to capture someone and then extract information from them, which I assume is what Inar is after with us. Yet this poster clearly says we are wanted living or dead, and the dead speak not, truly or otherwise."

"You can ponder your riddles all you like," said Drodie as he leaned on his axe, "But to me this problem looks simple to solve. The billet says one can inquire at the Galtrev Trading Post for more information -- we have only to go there ourselves and no doubt many questions will be answered."

"I agree with Drodie in principle," said Nephyn. "I for one have had enough of this intrigue and wish for some plain answers for a change, and his plan seems a fairly certain way of getting them. I would suggest, however, that we not walk blindly into a trap or a hostile environment: let me enter Galtrev myself to learn what I can first. I alone among us might be able to blend into the surroundings."

"Perhaps," said Lagodir, "But you have not considered one thing: this poster may have included drawings of our likenesses upon it as such things often do. From this paper we cannot tell because the top half has been burned away."

"True, I hadn't thought of that," said Nepyhn. "What, then, would you suggest?"

"From my earlier travels through Dunland I happen to know that Galtrev has multiple entrances," the Gondorian said. "There is a gate which faces south-west and another on the north side. Also, Galtrev is the largest and most important settlement in this land; it is a meeting of ways and a significant hub for trade, such as one will find in this region, and so it might not be uncommon to see a variety of folk there: Men, certainly, but also perhaps a few Dwarves on occasion. If we were to disguise ourselves and enter from either side of the city we would attract far less attention."

"That might work well enough for the three of you," I said, "But we have among us one Elf and one very un-Man-like hobbit who, I should point out, has absolutely no desire to enter Galtrev disguised as a sack of potatoes."

"Actually, I was thinking we might be able to make a fine Dwarf out of you," Lagodir replied with a grin, "If you would prefer it to posing as a bag of vegetables."

"I suppose that's the best offer I'm likely to get under the circumstances," I sighed. "And what about Gaelira?"

"I have managed to pass as a Woman on other occasions when I have journeyed through the villages of mortals," the she-Elf answered. "I should be able to do the same here if I can somehow procure a sample of garments from one of the locals."

"Dunlending raiment would greatly aid Nephyn and I as well," said Lagodir, "But I am unsure how we might come to possess such things, unless someone else has any ideas."

"I do not, at least at this moment," said Gaelira, "But I do have a concern: the craban we saw earlier had come from the direction of Lhan Tarren and was making its way south as if with a purpose. I wonder very much what it might mean." We all turned our thought to the matter, for it was widely known that the crebain of Dunland were frequently used as spies and messengers. While we were fairly well convinced (save perhaps Lagodir) that Elder Riagan of Lhan Tarren did not wish us ill, it would be unwise to assume all his people were of the same mind. We decided to follow the bird's path at least for a short distance and see if we might learn anything.

It was a quiet night with a bright moon, so we were able to see and hear rather well despite the darkness. The way south climbed up a steep ridge topped by a rocky moor, and the going was rough and slow for some while. We had thought to reach the crest then have a look about, and I confess I was both expecting and hoping to find nothing -- it seemed folly to try and follow the path of a bird through such harsh terrain (at night, no less), and I was plenty tired from the day's events already. As soon as we got to the top of the ridge, however, I could see bed and a rest would remain some time off: there, not a furlong to the south, was the light of a considerable number of torches and campfires! Even from that distance we could tell it was an encampment and no village. We went forward with caution and steeped in curiosity.

Using the cover of night, we crept quite near the outer edges of the fires. A high palisade wall suddenly loomed up in front of us, complete with rustic towers and gates. We saw two Men standing guard outside the one of these portals, and Nephyn signed to us that we should take cover behind a nearby boulder to try and overhear anything the guards might be saying to each other. This we did, and here is what we heard:

"You mean you didn't know?"

"Of course not: no one ever tells us anything. What's happened?"

"Why, word just got in -- the Outriders are headed this way!"

"The Outriders? Who says? You can't trust most of what you hear, especially in this part of Dunland."

"No, it's true, I tell you. Guto's crow flew in not an hour back, went straight for the boss, too."

"Ah, then at least Guto's good for something. Can't say the same for the rest of the Stag-clan."

"That's right, and you know what it means, don't you? Loot enough for us all!"

"Aye, I've seen the bounty posters all over -- you can't miss them if you go anywhere within a mile of Galtrev. What do you suppose it is they're wanted for?"

"Who cares? It's no skin off my nose, nor yours either."

"Can't argue that. Do you think the boss'll let us form some search parties and go out after them?"

"I wish he would, but the boss don't seem to care as much for loot as he used to -- not since he started taking orders from them. If it were up to me I'd be out there hunting them down right now."

"Me too! I could use that kind of coin."

"You and me, both. Give me just one of those Outriders and that's a hundred silver right there. Let's see Esult turn her nose up at that the next time I'm in Galtrev!"

"Ha! Wishful thinking though, isn't it? I mean, the boss'll never go for it -- not with all that merchandise we've got piled up in the camp."

"Bah! The slaves aren't going anywhere! They're caged up, aren't they? I say we go on the hunt ourselves: just you and me! More loot to go around, ain't it?"

"Ha ha ha!"

After listening to this exchange, we withdrew fully behind the rock to discuss our options.

"So we are betrayed by the people of Lhan Tarren after all," said Lagodir through clenched teeth. "A thousand curses upon these Dunlendings and all their honourless progeny forever."

"That will not help us now," chided Nephyn, "And we know only that Guto, the elder's grandson, has betrayed us -- we know nothing beyond that fact."

"However it happened, we know that word has already spread of our whereabouts," said Gaelira grimly. "This is an unfortunate situation indeed. Shall we attack and reveal ourselves, or shall we retreat and conceal or movements but leave the captives of these brutes to their fates?"

"Honour demands we attempt to free whoever is held within this camp," said Lagodir, "Whatever the danger may be to us personally."

"I agree," said Nephyn, "We cannot abandon them now that we know of their plight."

And so it was decided. Our hastily contrived plan was to sneak into the camp, free whatever captives we could, and vanish into the hills without being discovered. We managed to subdue the two gate-guards without much trouble, but that was about as long as our plan lasted.

It turned out that the captives were not held near the back of the encampment, as we had expected, but were instead clustered in metal cages quite near the front area. As we snuck through the entrance, I suppose one of them caught sight of us because there was a stifled cry of gladness from somewhere, no doubt one of the women unable to contain her joy at seeing a rescue in progress. This instantly had the guards on alert and battle became unavoidable.

As we had seen previously, the Dunlendings were fierce combatants, but they were untrained and poorly armed. It was not difficult for our experienced Company to put them to flight, but not until several of their number had been slain. We knew we had only moments before the slavers returned with reinforcements, so we quickly threw open every cage we could find and ordered the prisoners to follow us to freedom. Once this was done we escaped into the moor as horns blared all throughout the Dunlending camp. But clouds providentially covered the moon, and we melted like shadows into the crags of the hilltops.

We led the captives a short distance northward, down from the moor and into the safety of some thick shrubs. Very few of those people spoke the Common Tongue, but we were able to discern that they were indeed of the Stag-clan and were almost certainly the survivors of the Dragon-clan's attack on the southern Herd-lands we had seen decimated just yesterday. The only other thing we were able to learn was that the Dragons had planned to ship the prisoners "away South," but we did not know what that might mean.

Most of the women and children wished to rest where they were for the night, but we and their men-folk insisted that they make at once for the safety of Lhan Tarren. We urged them also to flee with their people into whatever safe places they knew in the hills, lest the Dragon-clan return for them, and it seemed that they understood us. They thanked us many times in their own language and we wished them good fortune, but Lagodir was unmoved.

"Go, and know that no love of mine goes with you," he said as he dismissed them. "But be sure to tell your elder that Guto, his son's son, acts in defiance of his grandsire's will. Gondor's justice will not be stayed even here in your homeland; should I ever come within sight of your people again, his life shall be forfeit to me in satisfaction of my vengeance. Go!" And the people fled before him.

While the Stag-clan moved west, our Company moved south and east. I was dead-tired on my feet, but it was crucial that we put more distance between ourselves and the Dragon-clan encampment to the south; already we could hear the blowing of horns and the baying of hounds as they hunted us among the rocks. We made our way among the shrubs and brambles for hours until Gaelira finally allowed us to rest. I was asleep in an instant, too tired even to eat anything.

Hevensday, 3rd of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Near the City of Galtrev, Somewhere in Dunland

I was awakened this morning by a gnawing hunger. I groaned as I rolled over and fished through my pack for some dried fruit and cram. Every muscle in my body was sore from yesterday's exertions, to say nothing of the unforgiving landscape which had served as my bed.

The weather was somewhat grey and drear, as if rain might be on its way, but there was no sign of thunder or even a single raindrop. I found the others already working around at various tasks, and it soon became clear just what was afoot.

Nephyn had pinched three tunics off some Dunlendings we had felled the night before, and she was arraying herself and Gaelira in them. Lagodir was doing the same while he and the Elf were using a dark brown dye Nephyn had made by stewing some walnuts out of our food supplies to darken their faces, hands, and arms. Drodie had an easy task -- he simply put away his heavy armour and outfitted himself in his simple traveling gear which would make him pass for a merchant in almost any country. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I realized I, too, would have to don some sort of disguise if I wanted to avoid entering Galtrev while impersonating a lump of cargo.

"Ah, Padryc, you're up," said Nephyn. "Here, you are going to have to wear one of Drodie's spare tunics and boots: it's the best we could come up with for someone your size." I pulled them on. The outfit hung on me like a tent and the boots were easily three sizes too large.

"I feel utterly ridiculous," I whined, "And I imagine I look much the same. How am I ever going to fool anyone going about like this? I can barely move for all this extra clothing!"

"Take your backpack and strap it on backwards," said Lagodir as he assisted me in doing so. "Then it will serve to fill out the tunic while also giving you a very Dwarf-like belly." His idea was actually quite effective, I had to admit.

"As for your feet," mused Nephyn while she bit her lower lip. "I suppose we could try stuffing the boots with any spare clothing we have handy? I can't think of any other remedy." This was attempted and it proved sufficient, though I felt very self-conscious about my gait afterward.

"And what about my face?" I asked, secretly hoping to identify some insurmountable difficulty that would get me out of the whole silly affair. "Who ever heard of a beardless Dwarf?"

"No one!" said Drodie with a grin, "And you shall not be the first. Wear this: I made it this morning while you slept. It would be better if it were braided or more properly cared for, but it will have to do in a pinch." He held out for me what looked like a matted rug on a bit of twine.

"Good gracious, where on earth did you get that beastly thing?" I cried. "Did you maul and skin some hapless creature in the dark hours before dawn, all to see me hang a pelt on my face? The very idea!"

"Not quite," said Nephyn as they all laughed at me. "We took some clippings off the side of a wandering cow which crossed near our path. Then we washed the strands in a brook and strung them into this wire. See, the loops go over your ears, like this, then your own hat shall go over all to complete the picture. There you are! Still a little on the short side, but as fine a Dwarf as you could ask for, all things considered. How does it feel to have a beard?"

"Itchy," I replied, "Although I am grateful that you bathed the hairs before attaching them to me. While I may not be the most convincing Dwarf to look at I have no fear that I absolutely do smell the part. Drodie, when was the last time you washed out your traveling pack? This tunic reeks of so many pungent odours I can't quite decide whether it smells beefy, musky, sweaty, or most like the inside of a beer-barrel! I am quite sure I shall offend anyone that comes within ten feet of me."

"Then you are ready for your performance!" the rest of them cheered. "To Galtrev!"

As we walked south-eastward on the road, we discussed on plans further. Nephyn and Gaelira would enter the city through the northern gate while Lagodir, Drodie, and I would attempt the south-gate. We would converge on the Galtrev trading post (wherever that happened to be, exactly, since none of us knew), and learn whatever we could before exiting the town again and meeting at a pre-arranged location to discuss our findings and decide upon the next steps. It all sounded very adventurous and almost fun as we marched casually down the path, but I couldn't help remembering that we were hunted wanderers in a hostile country. One hundred silver pennies was a lot of money even in decent places, and there was no telling what a poor farmer or trapper might attempt in order to collect a bounty that was probably a good deal more money than the average Dunlending might hope to see over the course of his entire lifetime.

The road began to descend lightly while the trees around us became thicker, spreading their vast arms overhead in a wide, unbroken canopy. These were oaks, mostly, and they seemed to be impressively old. The undergrowth off to either side was fierce and tangled, and this had been my impression of Dunland generally since we arrived -- it was a wild, dangerous country, but also possessed of a certain untamed beauty only visible to the discerning eye. In the Shire or the Bree-land, one felt as if the land was one's home; tamed and domesticated, content to exist at the whims of the masters which tilled it and arranged its gardens. Here, one felt as if the land belonged to itself, and you were only there as a tenant or even an unwelcome guest. I had heard strange tales about the beliefs of the Dunlendings, of course, and I had always thought them backward and primitive. But once I beheld the land in which they fought every day to sustain themselves, I began to understand how one might believe that savage and uncanny things did indeed live all around you in every crevice, and I marveled at the strength of a people which could maintain the will to survive in such a place.

After a while Lagodir informed us we were drawing near to Galtrev, according to his memories of that region. We soon came to a fork in the road, one leg of which ran south, the other running east. We split into our respective groups and made ready to enter the village. My heart began to race with excitement and I started fussing over my disguise, worried it would prove inadequate.

"Don't worry, Padryc,," said Lagodir with a smile. "Drodie and I will be right beside you. Just hang your head and mutter to yourself about how the tolls are too high and you will be fine."

A short time later we came to the south-gate of Galtrev. There were guards present, but they took one look at us and waved us through -- apparently tradesmen and merchants we not an uncommon sight in that city at all, just as we had hoped.

"That was almost too easy," I whispered to Drodie once we were through.

"Aye," the Dwarf whispered back. "Let us hope our ladies had an equal amount of luck on the far side."

We made our way through the town. The road climbed a gentle slope then curved toward the north before passing under a second wooden gateway. On the other side of this, we saw a wide marketplace which was busy with merchants and craftsmen going to and fro on business. There were many huts and areas covered with thatched overhangs while the paths were lined with low walls of piled stone. It struck me as rustic yet simultaneously industrious.

At first I wondered how we would ever manage to find Nephyn and Gaelira, in disguise as they were, through the hustle and bustle of the crowds, but in fact it wasn't long before we spotted them on the other side of the market. Nephyn was strutting around like a prize turkey as if she had just personally pulled the wings off a dragon with her bare hands while Gaelira cowered near her with a submissive and mousy posture. It dawned on me that those two were role-playing: Nephyn's outfit featured the crimson tabard of the Dragon-clan while Gaelira wore the indigo of the Stag, and so their mock relationship suddenly made sense. We turned our attention to locating the Trading Post mentioned on the bounty poster and it did not take long to find: on the western edge of the marketplace was a sort of open-air amphitheatre, complete with a fire-pit, benches for onlookers, and a stage for the auctioneers. We made our way there then found a secluded corner to meld our two groups together.

"This is the place," whispered Lagodir. "Now we just need to find out who to contact about the bounty and we will flush out whoever is behind -- Padryc, what's wrong?"

My jaw hung slack and my eyes bugged wide. There, on the far side of the Trading Post, was a table piled high with beer-flagons and tankards of all sizes. There were a great many Dunlendings around it, but my sight had fallen on the one Man seated at that table: he was less than average height with a sharp nose, a thin black beard, and small, beady eyes.

"It can't be," I breathed. "What the devil is he doing here?"

"Enro Smuin!" hissed Nephyn, almost too loud for comfort, and she immediately stormed away from us to confront him!

"Nephyn, wait!" said Gaelira as she tried to grab her wrist, but it was too late: the huntress stalked right into the midst of the throng while the four of us tried to casually make our way closer in order to overhear what was said and come to her defence, if necessary.

"Enro Smuin?" Nephyn called above the din.

"Who wants him?" came that snide voice from somewhere inside the ruckus. I saw the Man lean forward from where he had been reclining. Nephyn held the bounty poster up, squarely in his face.

"I have information," she said, and lowered the paper.

"Well, aren't you the productive one, my --" his voice caught as his little eyes nearly popped out of his head. "You! What are you doing here, you blood-soaked harpy?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Nephyn retorted. "It's a long way to Ost Forod, old friend." Smuin quickly composed himself, but his eyes remained glued to Nephyn.

"Hmph," he snorted. "Is that such a surprise? I go where there's coin, and plenty of it. Then it was Ost Forod, today, it is Galtrev. What of it? Besides, I'd be more concerned about myself if I were you, dearie -- word has it you're not too popular in these parts."

"And I don't suppose you'd have anything to do with that, would you?"

"Me?" Smuin laughed. "What's that supposed to mean? Someone wants a few heads collected and I merely help facilitate -- it's business. Speaking of which, where is the rest of your merry little troop? Killed? Eaten? Gone home?"

"I want to know who is so interested in catching... these people. And why."

"Oh, and I'm just supposed to tell you all about it, am I?" Smuin cackled again. "What did you plan to do? Appeal to my sense of virtue?" Nephyn raised an eyebrow.

"How about your purse?" Smuin squinted at her and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table with an leering grin on his thin lips.

"So," he said, lowering his voice to the point I could barely catch the words, "Maybe you have learned a thing or two since you and I last crossed paths. And you know me: always on the lookout for an opportunity. There's nothing that says I can't benefit in some small way while carrying out my part of a deal, is there? Tell you what: there's a certain nuisance not far from Galtrev that's causing me no shortage of irritation. Deal with that for me, and I'll tell you what you want to know."

"I'm sure I can manage," Nephyn replied. "What sort of nuisance?"

"A goblin," said Smuin. "He's known as the Mange-rider and he's been terrorizing the people of Galtrev (not that I care too much about that), but he's taken to mauling my couriers and delivery-men, and Enro Smuin does not stand for interruptions in business. Kill him, bring me whatever loot he's gathered in that den of his north-east of town, and then we'll talk." Nephyn stood up.

"Don't go anywhere," she said as she stared daggers at the little Man. Smuin grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

"Would I lie?" he asked with a wink.

We allowed Nephyn to get some distance between herself and the slimy tradesman before convening once more to talk in low voices.

"One or two of us ought to remain here to keep an eye on Smuin," Nephyn told us. "He acted perfectly confident, but I wouldn't put it past him to try and give us the slip."

"It's too dangerous," countered Gaelira. "We're surrounded by people who would be perfectly happy to turn any of us in and now Smuin will be on the watch -- we cannot trust that our disguises will fool him so easily as they might these others."

"Also, we know little of this enemy he has sent us to dispatch," Lagodir pointed out. "I judge it best that we remain together for now. If he flees, it may still work to our advantage -- someone in Galtrev would likely notice him leaving and mayhap we could overtake him in the Wild. There, we would be free to extract information from him using... less civilised means."

Once we were all agreed, we split up and made our individual ways to the north-gate of the city. We got well out of sight from the walls before removing our disguises and beginning the search for the Mange-rider's lair. To cut a long story short, we eventually found the place a good two miles or so north-east of Galtrev, but the terrain was very rough and uneven, so it took a while to get there. We were trying to be stealthy, but sneaking up on a Warg is always a tricky prospect and it almost cost us dearly in this endeavor.

We were scrambling over the rocky land, huffing and puffing from the exertion, when Drodie suddenly stood upright and froze. The rest of us halted.

"What is it?" Gaelira asked him. Drodie sniffed the air.

"Do you smell...?" Just then some nearby bushes exploded in a mass of leaves and hair! A goblin, saddled astride a large, ruddy-coloured Warg charged straight at us. It crashed headlong into Nephyn, who was sent sprawling and did not get back up. The Warg bore down on Drodie as I rushed to hide behind a tree. Our Dwarf had no time to so much as retrieve his axe from where it hung at his belt, but he had brought his shield forward, and so was able to at least partly absorb the shock of the Mange-rider's initial assault. He staggered backward under the force and then I heard him cry out in pain: his left ankle had become trapped in a rocky crevice. He was stuck! The Warg continued to lunge for his throat while Drodie used his shield to cover his entire body, but he could take no other action in his defence. Lagodir shouted his challenge and came on the attack wielding his two-handed curved, Elven sword with Gaelira by his side. This forced the goblin to wheel his steed around and face the new threat.

"Well, well! Looks like the local prey have finally learned to start bringing warriors with them," he cackled. "More fun for me! Must mean there's good pickings to be had somewhere among this lot." I saw the goblin's fangs bared in a toothy grin as he spurred his mount at my friends.

Lagodir side-stepped the charge, but his attacks were easily deflected by the goblin's spear from atop his steed. Gaelira was trying to fend off the Warg itself as she parried and thrusted with sword and staff at the beast's jaws. I was still concealed behind my tree while Drodie was trying to extract his foot from whatever hole in which it was caught. Nephyn was stirring, but she was still prone on the ground and looked to be in a great deal of pain. I suddenly realized the battle had moved quite close to me; if I was going to be of any use to my companions, I would have to act fast.

And so I did: without even taking time to really think it through, I had unsheathed the bright Elven dagger given to me by Mallacai all those months ago when we had first met in the Halls of Night. It seemed that the Mange-rider had no idea I was there, so I ran quickly but quietly up behind him and cut the leather thong which held his saddle in place. With a cry, the Mange-rider tumbled off his mount into the grass! I darted behind a boulder out of harm's way, but the goblin and his steed were far more concerned with the blades of Lagodir and Gaelira: without his height advantage, the battle was turning against the Mange-rider. Lagodir's guarded stance quickly turned into an onslaught, and it was mere seconds before his superior sword-work had broken his opponent's defenses and gashed a massive wound through the goblin's abdomen, ending him. Once this was done, the Warg had to contend with two skilled adversaries at once, and even the most fierce animal can only attack in one direction at a time. With a bit patience and some careful flanking, Gaelira was eventually able to land several blows to the Warg's hulking ribs. Thus wounded, it was only a matter of moments before the beast was felled, although it took quite a few heavy sword-thrusts to finally kill the thing off for good.

With the battle over, we began to take stock of our situation. We checked on Nephyn first. Her collision with the Warg had driven the breath from her body, but she was otherwise unhurt, though she said she expected to be extremely sore come the morrow. Drodie, meanwhile, had turned his foot where it got caught in the stones, and he went halt on that leg for a few days afterward. We did our best to relieve the pain by wrapping the ankle heavily in some spare garments, but we weren't quite sure whether it did much good and the Dwarf seemed to take a strange sense of honour in suffering from the pain anyway.

"Serves me right for allowing myself to be taken at unawares so," he chuckled. "That's the last time I leave my axe sheathed when I think I smell Warg on the air!"

"Even the land itself is adversarial in Dunland," said Lagodir darkly. "These moors are a treacherous place for sword-play." There was a heavy thunk behind us and we all whipped round, expecting some new enemy had found us in the forest, but it was only Nephyn; she had used the Sword of Ringdor to behead the Mange-rider where he lay.

"What are you doing, Nephyn?" laughed Lagodir. "Was the goblin not dead enough for you?"

"A little souvenir for our friend Enro Smuin," she explained with a devilish grin as she rammed the gruesome token into a drawstring sack. "I have no doubt he'll appreciate my thoughtfulness. Speaking of which, we are supposed to bring him anything we can find that this filth might have stolen from the people of Galtrev. Let's see if there is a lair nearby."

We discovered it not far from the site of our battle, up a gentle slope to the north-east and within what appeared to be an abandoned copper mine. The collection we found was not extensive, but it would still be worth a great deal of coin in those parts, so we shouldered the lot and made our way back to town, stopping to reapply our disguises along the way. It was well after the seventh hour from noon by the time we returned to the Galtrev Trading Post.

But Enro Smuin was not there. By casually inquiring of some people in area, we learned he was seen leaving the city through the north-gate then turning west. We were inclined to curse Smuin's cowardice and treachery, but in truth none of us were truly surprised. We hastened to follow his trail, hopeful that we might overtake him in the wilderness and there have him at our mercy.

Unfortunately, the path he took led straight through a den of wild wolves; they were many and vicious, and so we were unable to follow that way. Despondent, we sought a good place to camp in the gathering gloom as the day came to its end. We chose a location a good distance from the walls of Galtrev and screened by a row of rocks and trees, but we would not take the chance of lighting a fire so near to the city.

"I knew we should never have let that oily weasel out of our sight," Nephyn groused. She pulled the Mange-rider's severed head from her pouch by its lank hair then hurled it into a thicket. "All of our efforts this day have been wasted."

"Not entirely wasted," said Gaelira, who seemed rather upbeat about the whole turn of events. "I am disappointed that, though I looked and looked, I saw no sign of Edgerin within the city, but it does not really surprise me as he was never one for crowds. This business with Smuin, however, is only just beginning. We have forced him out of the city, and that makes him more vulnerable. True, we must still track him and find him, but if we can manage that then we will have much more success gaining information from him than we would within the walls of Galtrev, surrounded by people. He has made a serious error in this."

"I agree with Gaelira," said Lagodir, "Although I suspect Smuin knows this as well. Which makes me wonder why he would be willing to run the risk of being captured outside the city?"

"Perhaps he fears us," said Drodie as he gnawed on a salted pork-chop, "And would rather not face our wrath upon our return?"

"Perhaps," Lagodir mused quietly. "But I worry less about what he might be running from than whom he might be running to."

"Be that as it may, we must await the light of dawn if we are to pick up his trail," said Gaelira. "It is night already; searching in the dark by torchlight will likely yield nothing and would only attract the attention of Galtrev's guards. Let us rest while we can and resume the hunt in the morning."

With that settled, we dozed in the quiet darkness. The torches were lit on the walls of Galtrev and the unknown songs of its people drifted out to greet us, hard and riotous in their strange tongue. When these went silent, I could hear the call of many night-fowl which were unknown to me. Once again I felt myself a very small and frightened stranger in an alien land which held no love for outsiders. Even the stars overhead seemed to be out of their usual places to me as I lay on the rocky earth. I slowly wandered down the paths of sleep with the peculiar chants of the Dunlendings thrumming in my ears, and I dreamed twisted dreams of enormous wild animals with great, shining eyes. Stags, oxen, boar, elk, and foxes, all seeking me as I flitted amidst the shadows of giant tree-trunks through a misty, unending forest of grey.

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 68

A Lukewarm Welcome

Monday, 1st of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Lhan Tarren, Somewhere in the Land of Dunland

Elder Riagan of Lhan Tarren

This morning we were all up early. There was a sense of expectation or nervousness about our Company that was palpable in the heavy air, but we did our best to go about our business as usual. The five of us met around breakfast and discussed our way forward, but always our talk turned to the small village which lay just ahead of us to the south.

"We would do well to avoid any contact with the Dunlendings whatsoever," Lagodir was saying. "They are Wild Men, and not to be trusted."

"We have nothing to fear from a bunch of farmers and herdsmen," countered Drodie. "But they would have much to fear, should they choose to welcome us with weapons rather than words."

"You do not know these people as well as I," the Gondorian replied. "They are liars and traitors -- even to others among their own kind. They can be fierce in battle, but they will choose subterfuge rather than force, if they believe doing so will advance their cause of the moment."

"I think you speak from your own emnity, Lagodir," said Nephyn, her cheeks flushed with anger. "What harm have the Dunlendings ever done to Gondor? They have no reason to hate us."

"Their feud is chiefly with the Rohirrim, the allies of my people," answered Lagodir. "It is true that Gondor has never been at open war with the Men of Dunland; they were even once subjects of the Winged Crown, at least in word if not in heart. But rumours have come to us of their wrath from out of Rohan -- the hatred of the Dunlendings toward the Mark has not abated in half a thousand years, not since Cirion, the twelfth Steward of Gondor, giften Calenardhon to the Sons of Eorl."

"But there are no Rohirrim among us," I said. "What reason would these simple folk have to despise our little band? Surely there is something that passes for hospitality even among the people of this remote place." Lagodir sighed.

"Cirion's grant of land to the Eotheod was the beginning of the Dunlendings' displacement from their ancestral homelands," he said. "And so they blame my countrymen for precipitating their loss."

"Well, no one needs to know you're from Gondor, do they?" I asked. "And I can't imagine too many of your folk ever wander out this way."

"I have grown accustomed to obscuring my heritage after the disgraceful actions of my forebears," said Lagodir ruefully. "But my hesitance is borne of mistrust, not wounded pride. Still, I can see my words will not sway you. Very well, I shall follow the will of the Company, but I beg you to heed my warning: there is no honour to be found among the Dunlendings. The fewer dealings we have with them the better we shall fare here."

We did not debate the matter much beyond this, but there was an obvious (to me) reluctance to proceed with any haste from that point on. The morning was wearing away by the time we finally cleared our campsite and returned to the road. The village grew steadily nearer as we marched, and I felt as if we regarded it the same way it watched us -- with a leery wariness.

At last we drew near to the little bridge which spanned the river and led into the huts on the far side. There were not a large number of these, I counted only thirteen, but some two score of villagers had already begun to gather on the other bank. They were eyeing us with a wide range of emotions, everything from fear to hostility, I thought, but little more than a low murmur found its way across the water to our ears. Our Company stood there just off the road, awkwardly casting furtive glances and wondering how things would turn, when a tall and dark-skinned Man with a bushy brown beard stepped out from the crowd and motioned that we should follow him.

Cautiously, we crossed the narrow bridge and entered the village. The crowd shrank away from us as though in fear, but I could clearly see dislike in the stares of some. I kept looking from side to side and I think my discomfort was obvious to the onlookers. Gaelira kept her eyes on the back of our guide's feet and seemed to be paying respect to the inhabitants of that strange land. Drodie glowered threateningly toward one side and then the other while Nephyn looked as if she was trying to read the faces of each and every man, woman, and child that surrounded us. Lagodir, meanwhile, acted like royalty among insubordinate peasants as he strode imperiously through that little hamlet. We were led through the centre of town and past what must have been their little marketplace or common-grounds. An impressive totem of a deer's head made mostly of wood and stone, rose a good ten feet above us.

"These are tribesmen of the Stag-clan," Nephyn whispered to the rest of us, pointing to the totem as we passed beneath its gaze.

"What does that mean?" I whispered back. "Are they a friendly bunch or... not?" I got no answer.

It was only a brief trek to the rear of the village, and there we were met by an aged old Dunlending who was seated by a burning fire-pit. His colourful outfit and decorative feathers indicated he was someone of importance -- no doubt the leader of this small community. He had dark, leathery skin while his hair and beard were white and wild. He regarded us slowly with sable yet watery eyes. When he spoke, his voice sounded cracked and laboured, but it was clear to me there was still a good deal of life in that old frame. Our tall guide turned and vanished quickly into the crowd behind us, which had stopped following a short distance back, apparently so we could converse with the old man.

"Welcome to our home, strangers from afar," the wizened figure began. "I am Riagan, elder of Lhan Tarren. My people speak little but the various dialects of Dunland, so there is not much use in introducing you to them. My grandson, Guto, who led you to me just now, knows somewhat of your language, but he has now gone on his daily hunt." Each of us bowed to him with a few brief words of welcome except Lagodir, who remained stiff and silent.

"We thank you for your kind welcome, Elder Riagan," said Nephyn.

"You must forgive the curiosity of my people -- it is not often we see wanderers here out of the North-lands," Riagan continued. "What brings you to Lhan Tarren?"

"We are merely a group of friends," Gaelira replied, "And we seek another friend who resides somewhere in Dunland -- Edgerin, the lore-master of no little reputation, who was in Galtrev the last I had heard from him." The old man raised his eyebrows at us and looked very impressed.

"Oh! You seek that one, do you?" he said. "Then I wish you well in your search, brave ones, though it may be that your information concerning his whereabouts is antiquated. Still, I would not know myself, as I am too old to be out wandering among the rocks. But now, what would you have of me? We are a simple folk and have little to offer travelers in the ways of supplies or even counsel."

"We are fairly well provisioned, at least for now," Gaelira said, "And we mean to trade for more upon reaching Galtrev. But we wish for nothing from you or your folk other than safe and quiet crossing through these lands as we continue on our errand to Edgerin. We are the friends of all who do not wish us ill or seek to hinder our passage."

"You are well and fairly spoken," said Riagan with a nod to the she-Elf, "We have no desire to hinder your passage, but I do wonder... if you are friends to all as you say, then can you not tell me more of yourselves? What names should I give my people across whose lands you would sojourn?" I saw Lagodir make a fist with one hand, but he did not speak.

"It may be best if we were to keep our names to ourselves," said Gaelira cautiously, "At least so long as we stand within earshot of so many."

"Ah, yet now you speak not as a friend but as one who with something to hide," said Riagan with a slight smile. "I am blessed with no little amount of wisdom after all my long years on this earth, my friends, so I know well there are times to hold one's tongue, but this, I fear, cannot be one such. Yet I am not without my own store of knowledge: here we have a Dwarf from distant lands, another like him yet less in stature, a female of the Elder Kindred, and another who may have some Dunlendish blood in her, if my old eyes haven't completely failed me. And finally, we have what can only be a Gondorian -- his sea-grey eyes and proud bearing tell me as much on his account."

"I am Lagodir of Gondor, of the House of Turma," came the Man's clear voice. Gaelira sighed.

"And I am Gaelira of Rivendell. These others are Nephyn, huntress of the Bree-lands, Drodie of the Blue Mountains, and Padryc of the North, our companions."

"I see," said Riagan, his black eyes falling swiftly upon me. "And what land of the North do you call home, Friend Padryc?"

"He calls no single place home and has wandered much with us," Gaelira answered before I had a chance to speak. "Yet he, too, hails from Bree as much as anywhere." I shut my mouth quickly and swept my hat off in a courteous bow. I didn't know at that moment why Gaelira would choose to conceal my land of origin alone out of all of us, but I assumed she had a good reason.

"I thank you for your forthrightness," said Riagan with a sidelong glance at Lagodir. "Again, you must forgive my old ears, but did you say you count yourself the friend of any who do not hinder your errand? Then perhaps you would be willing to prove your goodwill by way of a... small matter that would greatly benefit my people."

"We would prove that we are no threat to you or your folk," said Gaelira. "Name your need, that we may attempt it." I saw Lagodir's jaw clench out of the corner of my eye.

"There is a terrible wolf-sire which makes his den near here," Riagan replied. "We call him Red-Eye, for his eyes burn with a love of killing. He and his pack have grown bolder of late and begun attacking us as we tend to our herds or harvest the wild turnips which grow amidst the crags. We have tried to trap or slay the thing ourselves, of course, but he is crafty. Surely a band of five great adventurers would have no difficulty with such a minor task."

"It would be our pleasure to assist the people of Lhan Tarren," said Gaelira with a bow. "We will depart at once, with your blessings upon us."

"Most certainly!" said Riagan as he stood to see us off. "We would be ever so grateful that such masterful travelers as yourselves would deign to assist us poor folk so. His den is just to the south of here, east of the road."

Riagan escorted us to the edge of his village. He spoke to the villagers briefly, and they seemed to understand that we would be aiding them, for their expressions changed to ones less hostile and I even caught a few smiles on some of their dirty faces. The five of us tried to grin and move quickly, so that we soon found ourselves back across the river. Once free of the throng, we breathed easier and set about our task without delay.

"Why did you do that Gaelira?" asked Lagodir as we walked. "The people of this land are fractious and petty. Moreover, we require nothing from them -- why get involved with them at all?"

"As an expression of goodwill," said Gaelira. "The errand will gain us at least a small amount of favour among the people of Lhan Tarren. But I would ask of you, Lagodir: why did you reveal your right name so readily? You know well we are being sought by the minions of both Inar and Amarthiel. It was most unwise."

"I have no desire to avoid conflict with the Men of Dunland through deceit," Lagodir responded, "Particularly since conflict with them is inevitable in any case. I have nothing to hide -- if they wish me or any of us harm because of our heritage, then I say let them attempt it. But they would pay dearly were they to do so." I shook my head but kept silent.

"I just hope we are not being led into a trap," said Drodie. "That old man seemed awfully deferential to a bunch of wandering vagabonds like us, especially in a land which is not known for being especially hospitable to outsiders."

"Yes, he was laying the charm on a bit thick," said Nephyn. "On the other hand, perhaps he really is only trying to protect his people from what he cannot, and he sees our arrival as an opportunity to remove this threat."

"Whatever his motivations," said Gaelira, "We have given our word and must now see it through. We've dealt with far worse than wolves on our journey -- this task should not delay us overmuch."

It turned out to delay us a few hours. Red-Eye proved an evasive quarry, and the day wore on without success. Where our efforts at tracking the beast failed, however, Nephyn was eventually able to bait it into one of her steel traps which crippled its right foreleg, and after that finishing the thing off was easy work. Drodie stripped the wolf of its pelt while the rest of the pack fled from us, then we washed our hands and weapons in the river, which was a short distance west of the road.

"Well, it was dirty work, but less dangerous than what we're used to," I said as I fanned myself with my hat. Being the first of Wedmath, the days were now hot and sticky, and the fact we had been moving south for weeks did not help. I scanned the countryside behind us. "You know, I might almost like this place if it weren't for all the rocks. And of course the locals could use some schooling in manners, but aside from -- DRODIE LOOK OUT!!!"

I had seen movement among the crags less than a stone's throw to my right. Suddenly, the shaggy head of a Dunlending appeared and hurdled a spear at Drodie's back! But the Dwarf was not one to be taken unawares: he spun around with his shield at the ready, and there was a loud clang as he deflected the missile. Instantly, the rest of our Company was on a battle-footing; steel rang and glinted in the Sun as we turned to meet the assault.

I counted eight Dunlendings, all of them dark-skinned, swarthy Men armed with spears, axes, and knives. They were fierce fighters, but they were no match for our skill and equipment. Nephyn shot one through the neck as they approached then slew another with the Sword of Ringdor as she engaged blade-to-blade. Two more fell to Lagodir's great, curved Elven-sword while Drodie hacked the arm from a fifth with his axe. Gaelira fended off two attackers with sword and staff before running one through. The remaining pair fled, but one took another of Nephyn's shafts in the back as he ran.

"Curse my shameful aim!" she cried as we ran up to check on this last. The arrow had pierced clean through his heart and the point was protruding from his breast; the ground was wet with blood. "I had meant only to strike his leg, but there was that sudden gust of wind just as I let fly. I had hoped we would be able to question this one and learn why they attacked us."

"Do not blame yourself," said Lagodir. "Dunlendings need no reason to attack anyone, even their own kin, warlike a people as they are. It seems clear to me this ambush was arranged -- we need only go and ask Elder Riagan why he tried to have his Men kill us."

"Do not be so hasty, Lagodir," scolded Gaelira as she bent down to examine the bodies. "You yourself have spoken of the fractious nature of those who inhabit this land, have you not? See here! These Men all bear the token of a dragon. I should think they belong to a rival clan, and quite possibly have nothing to do with Riagan whatsoever."

"That could be," said Nephyn through gritted teeth, "But it does not mean that they aren't working together to exterminate us. Lhan Tarren is a small village -- I think we should go back there and tell the elder what happened to us. His reaction may tell us much."

We all agreed to this course of action. The bodies of the slain we dragged to an obscure spot near some rocky outcroppings and there we did our best to bury them. We also took the dragon-tokens from their raiment as proof of our encounter. By the time we finally reached Lhan Tarren, it was late into the afternoon. The villagers' standoffishness had thawed noticeably upon our return, but the crowd was still fairly quiet as we were led back to Riagan's hut. He was overjoyed when we presented him with the pelt of Red-Eye and seemed genuinely grateful for our work.

"We thank you for your praise, Elder," said Gaelira with a stern face. "But now we must speak of difficult matters. We were attacked at unawares while we returned, and it is only through good fortune that all five of us stand here before you now. Tell me, what is the meaning of these?" She threw the dragon-tokens at Riagan's feet, who stooped and squinted as he examined them closely.

"Oh, my!" the old man exclaimed. "These are the marks of the Dragon-clan! Don't tell me the Dragons attacked you? I had no idea they had come so far west, and I would have warned you had I known. This is terrible news! Our families in the Herd-lands could be in great danger!"

"One thing at a time," said Lagodir, not even bothering to be polite. "Who are the Dragon-clan and what relation have they to you?"

"The Dragons are the most warlike of all the disparate peoples of Dunland," Riagan explained. "They take what they want from the other tribes without thought or recompense. Women, cattle, land... nothing has ever been safe from them, but lately things have gotten far worse. And now! To know they have come into the lands of the Stag... this is terrible, terrible..."

"I am sorry to hear of this," said Gaelira guardedly, "After all, I would hate to think that you sent us to hunt Red-Eye only as a ruse for having us ambushed."

"What? Oh, no! No, no, no!" Riagan quailed. "Certainly not! Mercy, my brave friends, I beg you do not think ill of me or my people! Such treachery was never in my mind. But now, though it pains me to ask it, I must seek your aid a second time."

"So you can lead us into another trap?" Lagodir snapped. "What sort of fools do you take us for?"

"Please, please, hear me," Riagan grovelled. "I understand your mistrust, really I do! But I have no choice -- the Herd-lands, our cattle-studs to the south, are where the homes of many of the Stag-clan stand. My people have many, many relatives there and they are defenceless! Normally we would have had word of this invasion from our trained crebain, but somehow the Dragons have kept their movements hidden from us and so we were unable to warn our families. They are in great danger!"

"Then send some of your own people to warn them," growled Drodie.

"I would, I would, of course, Master Dwarf," Riagan pleaded, "But we do not have the numbers or the weapons to do this if the Dragon-clan has already attacked the Herd-lands. We would be slaughtered! Do you understand why I must ask this boon of you, despite your warranted mistrust of me and my folk?" None of us spoke for a time.

"I suppose I do understand," Gaelira sighed. "I do not think you could have arranged for two ambushes so quickly, and we have already proven our mettle against the Dragon-clan once."

"Gaelira, it is madness to trust this old fool!" cried Lagodir. "He has already led us into one trap, and he will continue to do so as long as our idealism permits him. Killing wild beasts is one thing -- I do not wish to get involved in the petty squabbles of these lesser Men." I feared Riagan would take offence at Lagodir's harsh words, but if so he did not show it.

"Come, let us discuss this matter among ourselves," said Nephyn. "After all, we do have our own business to which we must attend, Elder. We will decide whether this is worth our delay."

Riagan nodded and withdrew so that we could converse as a group without being overheard. It was not a long discussion, the upshot being that Gaelira, Nephyn, and I believed the people of Lhan Tarren were not hostile (even if they weren't exactly friendly) and genuinely needed our help while Lagodir spoke sternly against getting involved. Drodie, uncharacteristically, considered it an opportunity to make at least a few friends in a land swarming with potential enemies, and so he, too, was in favour of aiding the Stag-clan. We announced our intention to Riagan, who was overjoyed. Even the people of Lhan Tarren seemed to warm to us once their elder had conveyed the news to them in their own tongue, but there were several who seemed frightened, presumably at the news of the Dragons' encroachment and that their families away south were in danger.

Very soon, we were back across the river and following the road south, where Riagan had told us we would find the Herd-lands. We marched at a fast pace, for the day was quickly waning.

"Lagodir, I wouldn't have thought you one to deny aid to those in need," I said gingerly. I felt the whole episode since arriving at Lhan Tarren was creating tension within the Company, and I was always eager to diffuse such situations when possible.

"I am not convinced they are in need," Lagodir said. "More likely this elder of theirs is simply playing on our own elevated sense of nobility to lure us into one trap after another. It is the way of his kind."

"You seem awfully convinced that all Dunlendings are the same," said Nephyn as she walked nearby. "Did it never occur to you that perhaps not all Dunlendings think alike simply because they all live in Dunland?"

"No," the Gondorian answered tersely. "I have heard enough about the Dunlendings for my liking from the Rohirrim, true allies of Gondor, and seen them in battle on the plains of the Westfold. If the Stag-clan are indeed not of the same mind as the rest of their kin, then they are so small a faction as to not matter. How are we to know their intentions? You heard them speaking among themselves back there -- we do not even know what they were saying to one another. Like as not they were plotting to follow us and attack from the rear once the Sun sets."

"I can tell you they weren't, as it happens," said Nephyn emphatically. We all looked at her.

"And how would you know that?" asked Lagodir. "It seems Riagan is the only one among them who speaks the Common Tongue. I certainly could not make out their words to each other."

"Because -- Because I can understand their language -- a bit," Nephyn stammered.

"You?" exclaimed Lagodir in amazement. "How? Why?"

"I... well, I -- I had some spare time during our stays in Rivendell," she replied, "And I... thought I might try and spend it well, so I picked up some basics. Just words and phrases, you understand."

"And what do you think the people of Lhan Tarren were saying back there?" I asked.

"I caught the words for family or tribe," she said. "As well as farms. It was all rather rushed and not meant to be overheard. Anyway, I don't think they were plotting anything -- they were simply concerned that their friends and families might be in danger."

"I hope you are right," said Lagodir, and the conversation ended at that point.

The Sun was setting by the time we reached the Herd-lands. It was a rough country between the river to our right and some rocky hills to our left which was divided into small farms by low walls made of piled stone. Elder Riagan's fears turned out to be well-founded as the place was partially on fire and completely overrun by combative Dunlendings, all of whom bore the mark of the Dragon-clan. We made up our minds to avoid them at all costs and search for survivors of the apparent raid, but we found only dead farmers and their families, cruelly hewn down by their own countrymen. Nephyn was quite distressed over this while Lagodir simply raised his nose at the whole affair, although he was finally willing to admit that Riagan's people were the victims here and not trying to trick us into another ambush.

There were far too many Dragon-clan warriors for us to deal with on our own, so we stealthily withdrew and returned to Lhan Tarren. Elder Riagan was devastated to hear about the Herd-lands and seemed at a loss as to how he and his folk might respond to the travesty. For our part, we tried to counsel him as best we could, but the ways of Dunland were little known to us. More importantly, we felt it was well past time for us to be heading on -- not a one of us liked the idea of spending the night in that village after what had happened that day, even if the locals had been inclined to allow it.

We parted from Riagan and the villagers on good terms, but it hurt me to see the women and young children weeping as they were told the news about their families. Not a one among our Company was sad to put Lhan Tarren behind us as we struck out south and east. We continued on in the dimness of the setting Sun for a few hours before finally making camp in a small space between some boulders that was well hidden by several shrubs and low trees.

"Whew, am I glad that's over!" I panted as we settled down and began to prepare supper. It would end up being a cold one since we all agreed that lighting a fire was not advisable considering the day's events. "This land is as confusing as it is dangerous! I had no idea that Dunland was so divided -- it's a good thing we got out of there without being dragged in any more than we were."

"My thoughts exactly," said Lagodir grimly. "I am pleased to have been proved wrong about the elder's intentions, but I hope now you realize why I warned you all against getting involved."

"That said, there can be no question we accomplished some good this day," said Nephyn. "Who knows what might be the results of our actions later? I think we must continue to hold out hope that we can make a difference for good in this world, or else all of this has been in vain. Apparently the Stag-clan is one of the weaker tribes in Dunland, so we have at least done them some small service this day."

"I cannot argue that point, I suppose," said Lagodir. "But what now? Where are we headed, Gaelira?"

"In another day's march or so we should reach Glatrev," Gaelira replied as she pointed to the south-east. "That is the largest settlement in Dunland, and a major cross-roads for those few outlanders who journey here. I suspect we will find all manner of strange folk in that town, and we should be ready for anything."

"Will we also find this contact of yours there?" I asked. "What was his name again? Edgerin? You have not spoken much of him before today."

"It also sounded to me as though you were not certain where to find him," said Nephyn with a raised eyebrow. "I said nothing at the time because we were dealing with Elder Riagan, but I do hope you have some idea of where to locate this ex-Seeker of yours."

"I only know what I knew the last time I visited him," said Gaelira, "And that was many long years ago. In truth, I do not know where he might be now -- I fear this is going to involve some trial and error."

"Wonderful," I sighed. "Searching for a Dunlending in a land full of Dunlendings, large numbers of whom would be happy to chop us up into tiny pieces as soon as wish us a good morning -- what could go wrong?"

"Edgerin is not a Dunlending," said Gaelira. "He is of the race of Man, and he is well advanced in years for his kind, so far as I can tell, but he has lived long in this land and sees much that others miss. He may have knowledge of Mallacai or his passing, but more importantly he knows as much about Inar than anyone else I can think of -- at least among those I would trust. I cannot say for certain, but he might even be able to help us in dealing with Izarrair as well, perhaps."

"That sounds more hopeful," I admitted, "So long as we can find this chap sometime before winter sets in. I can't say I fancy the idea of hunting your elusive friend throughout the whole length of -- Drodie, I thought we said we weren't going to be making a fire tonight?"

"We aren't, and I haven't," said the Dwarf, who had been mending a torn corner of his traveling pack.

"Then why do I smell ashes?" I asked as I jumped to my feet. The others also immediately went on the alert. We began searching the ground and it only took a few minutes to locate the source of the odour.

"Here!" said Drodie as he pointed. "Just under the edge of this boulder -- you can see where someone made a campfire to screen in from the wind. Then they scattered the ashes when they moved on."

"And these ashes are still warm," Lagodir observed as he ran his hand through the remains. "It is so dark that we did not see it at first." He grasped a small object from the ground and peered at it closely in the dying light.

"Hum, so we are not the only travelers in this land," I said. "I guess that just means we should be sure to set the watch, but of course we were going to do that anyway. I don't suppose it necessarily means anything good or bad."

"But this might," said Lagodir, and he held up the object he had retrieved from the fire for the rest of us to see. It was a partially burned piece of heavy parchment and the lettering was written in a bold hand, as if it were meant to be seen from a distance. This is what we read:

NOTICE OF BOUNTY for

ELLADAN'S OUTRIDERS

20 silver pieces for information

300 silver pieces for the Halfling

100 silver pieces for each in his Company

Inquire at the Galtrev Trading Post

WANTED LIVING OR DEAD

We gaped in silence. A crow cawed overhead as it fluttered southward on the night air.