The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 74.1

Into the Dunbog

Trewsday, 9th of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Lhan Rhos, Somewhere in the Dunbog

One of the Abominations of Lhan Colvarn

It was Ancthas who roused us this morning, except, of course, the two Elves who had apparently been off scouting ahead and keeping an eye on the lands round about. There was nothing significant to report from the night hours, although Gaelira thought she had seen a shadowy figure like to a dark horseman off in the distance at one point. We were all thinking of Izarrair, but no one felt inclined to talk about him.

The day was bound to be unpleasant enough without contemplating all the various spooks and ruffians who had been dogging us throughout the length Dunland, for today would bring us into the Dunbog -- the fetid swamp which lay in the extreme south-western corner of that region. According to Ancthas, our chance Dunlending companion and current guide, Edgerin could be found somewhere within it, so we had no choice but to enter. Moreover, in return for saving us from Bedwur's ambush in Avardin yesterday, we had pledged our aid in support of him and his people who were fighting some scourge he called "the abominations." These fearsome-sounding foes had overrun the last remaining village of his people, and thus we were honour-bound to follow him in any case. Breakfast was brief and cheerless, for Ancthas insisted we had a full day's journey ahead.

"My kinfolk still hold the abominations within the walls and the immediate area around Lhan Colvarn," he told us, "And so we should meet no enemies on our way to Lhan Rhos. At least, that is my hope: things may have changed since I came north to Avardin three days ago, for our cause is very desperate. Yet, even without opposition, we cannot hope to reach the village before sundown tonight; the way through the Dunbog is shifting and treacherous. You would do well to follow me closely."

And so we did. Caution was definitely needed if we were going to have any hope of staying dry above the waist. The pools and mires of the swamp made it impossible to find anything resembling a straight road, which forced Ancthas to lead us on a winding route so as to remain on the little (mostly) dry land we could identify. More than a few times we were obliged to wade through mucky areas in order to keep going, and these were the most unpleasant times. At first I was repulsed by the activity, but after a while it become too frequent to waste energy bothering about it.

The passage of the swamp was long, dull, dreary, and uneventful. I took to examining our surroundings as we laboured on. My only real experience with swamps had been the Rushock Bog, which sits in the north-western regions of the Shire, roughly right in the middle of the land between Michel Delving, Hobbiton, and Needlehole. It sits in a natural valley there, into which the rains easily run off, and that is part of the reason the farmlands of the Shire are so well-suited to growing all manner of crops. I never had much cause to venture there except when on patrol as a Bounder: Needlehole is not an insignificant village despite its somewhat removed location (relative to the rest of the Shire), and the only way to reach it is through the Rushock. But even that road is fairly well-built and maintained by the Bounders, nor is it anywhere nearly as dismal as the place in which my companions and I found ourselves today. For one thing, there were no trees anywhere in sight. The Rushock Bog is a watery and oozy sort of place, but even there you will find plenty of stunted or moss-grown trees, and there is an overall greeness to it. Here, everything was a hazy and depressing brown or a sort of sickly, pale-mustard yellow, as if the air itself was filthy and continually blanketing everything in a thick, nasty grime that robbed even the plantlife of any discernable colour. We did not encounter much in the way of fauna either, though we heard plenty of it. There were little birds of the piping and scampering sort fluttering and twittering in the reeds (which were many and quite large). I saw more than a few sizable toads along the way as well as a goodly number of ugly looking bog-slugs. Numerous were the clouds of flies and other insects that congregated in massive groups here and there, but for whatever reason none of them seemed to be of the biting sort, for which I was very grateful. Our discomfort was still guaranteed, however, by the heat of the season: despite the murk hanging over the land, the summer Sun was steaming the waters of the fens which had us all drenched with sweat while we struggled on through the stagnant, sweltering pools.

Night had already come by the time we finally reached Lhan Rhos; we could see the glow of several fires and many torches as we approached. Ancthas explained to us the town was built mostly on wooden piers which ran from one parcel of solid land to another, and it was upon these that his people built their primitive huts. We found his description to be quite accurate once we arrived, and I also noted the place was a more populous village than I had expected to find there in the middle of a swamp. Ancthas assured me, however, that what I saw was only a tithe of his kin as most of them had been lost, first to the invading Orcs and then to the mysterious plague which had followed swiftly after.

Our arrival was greeted at first with suspicion and dismay, but then the people saw we traveled with Ancthas, and that seemed to allay their concerns. We were quickly introduced to the village elders, who appeared to welcome us once it was explained that we intended to assist them in their battle against the abominations which occupied Lhan Colvarn. I'm afraid I can't provide much in the way of dialogue for you, Dear Reader, because almost all of the proceedings were done in the natives' tongue. Besides, I was so tired from the day's exertions that I kept nearly falling asleep while standing there, trying to pay attention to everything being said. I have no doubt I would have collapsed and slept soundly in a wink had it not been for Nephyn, who kept one hand on my shoulder and shook me firmly every time I started to nod.

Once all of the niceties had been fulfilled, we were led away to wash. I wondered how in the world we were supposed to get ourselves clean when we were standing in the middle of a bog, and then I began to puzzle over just what it was these people used for drinking. Surely they didn't dip their mugs and vessels directly into the swamp? But it turned out they drew their water from wells which were dug deep into the earth, and the supply which came from them was about as clean as one might expect to find in more civilised places.

After we washed, we were led back to the elders where we joined them for a meal, which served to keep me awake a little longer. I wouldn't call it a feast and neither did they (so far as I could tell), but it was hot and well-made, and it was certainly better fare than I had become accustomed to on the open road. Many words were spoken, most of which concerned us, our purpose in their land, and the ongoing skirmishes with the abominations to the north-west. When it was mentioned that we were trying to find Edgerin, the elders became silent and seemed to regard us with a new sense of respect, which I found very curious. After the meal was over and we had been shown to the area of the village where we were obviously expected to spend the night, I asked Ancthas what it was about Edgerin's name that appeared to command such reverence among the Dunlendings.

"Edgerin is not a Dunlending himself -- he is a duvadiad, like you," the Man replied. "We do not know from what country he hails, but he is favoured by the Huntsman."

"The Huntsman?" asked Nephyn. "Who is he?" I saw Lagodir shake his head mockingly out of the corner of my eye, but no one else seemed to notice and I decided to say nothing about it.

"The Huntsman is worshiped by all the clans," Ancthas said. "He commands the gwirod, and is the Guardian of our folk, both those here today and those gone before. Few alive now still remember when Edgerin first came to Dunland, but ever since then he has been traveling to the far corners of this country aiding all the tribes with whatever struggles afflict them: war, pestilence, famine, or drought. He has aided us in so many ways -- from finding clean water to preserving meats to the best way to water our crops and aid in the harvest -- that all hold him blessed by the Huntsman. That you know him speaks well of you. I myself have been something of a student of Edgerin's for about a year now, and I can say with certainty that he is a very unique Man who wishes our people well, which is itself more than be said of most other folk."

"And you say he is near here?" Gaelira asked him.

"He is -- very," Ancthas replied. "He used to spend a good deal of his time away in the Gravenwood, but ever since the abominations appeared in Lhan Colvarn he has been here in the Dunbog helping us deal with them. Tomorrow we shall go and see that danger against which all of us, including Edgerin, currently labour. So shall you fulfill your promise to me. Once that is done, I will keep my word and lead you to him."

"So be it," said Minasse. "The manner in which you continually describe these 'abominations' tickles my curiosity -- I will be surprised, however, if they are truly as fearsome as you make them out to be, but I rather hope they are. It would be a pleasant surprise for me to see something new under this Sun." I was afraid Ancthas might take offense at the High Elf's dismissive attitude toward that which the Dunleding obviously considered to be a dire threat, but the Man only nodded his head slightly and took his leave.

Our Company quickly settled down for the night, much to my relief. Despite my tiredness, however, I found myself unable to go to sleep straightaway: I kept pondering just what manner of terror awaited us in Lhan Colvarn tomorrow, and that caused me to have very unpleasant dreams.

Hevensday, 10th of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Near Lhan Colvarn, Somewhere in the Dunbog

We were all up at the crack of dawn. I vaguely felt somewhere within myself that I really could do with a few more hours' rest, but at the same time my nerves were so on-edge at the prospect of seeing Lhan Colvarn that I was wide awake. The rest of my companions were equally alert and stoic -- it was as if we all knew instinctively that today would be a fateful day.

The elders (along with most of the village, as it happened) had turned out to see us off. Some words were spoken, but Ancthas was clearly eager to get going, and so we did before much more time had passed. As we struck out in a north-westerly direction, I looked back at the sad village of Lhan Rhos. Its inhabitants were lined up on the edge of town, watching us with mournful glances, almost as if they expected to never see us again. Yet there was something else about those people which made me uneasy, and my stomach twisted into a knot when I realized what it was. They were almost entirely women and children: among the dozens which stood there watching us, only a handful were males, and all of these were either elderly, sick, or maimed. I swallowed hard, turned my face toward my companions, and trudged on behind them.

The growing light of day gradually brought the rest of the swamp to life: the birds began their trills and the frogs started to croak. The hazy murk, which seemed to hang over the Dunbog night and day like a shroud, became a sort of golden, blurry smoke which gave the land a rather ethereal appearance. As we fought our way through the fens and the Sun rose toward noon, that cloud did lift a bit, though it did not vanish and the stifling heat of the day before returned. Very soon we were all hot and miserable again, and I still count that as one of the least pleasant times among all my months with the Company.

It might have been roughly half past the first hour after noon when we came upon an interesting sight. There, stretched for more than a mile across the soggy ground of the Dunbog, was a sturdy stockade fence. It was manned in many places by Dunlendings of all sizes and every one was armed: some with clubs, some with spears, and all of them had hunting bows. At first I feared they were positioned to oppose us, but then I saw through the reek that we were, in fact, approaching them from the rear. The fence had been recently constructed and was meant as a bulwark against incursion from the north-west -- from the direction of Lhan Colvarn.

Ancthas was quickly among these Men and speaking with them excitedly. Although I was unable to follow their speech, it was clear Ancthas was know to these people and even respected by them. By observing signs and gestures, I gathered our new friend was explaining to his troops that he intended to advance with us up to Lhan Colvarn itself. The Dunlendings grew quiet when this was told to them, but they seemed to regard us with a certain measure of awe. It was not too much longer before Ancthas was leading the six of us through the swamp again. Very soon, however, the land became less swampy while also rising a little. A short time later we were beneath a canopy of oak trees and the bog was safely behind us, but the orange haze remained over the land.

"Lhan Colvarn is not far now, and I would advise you all to cover your faces to avoid breathing the air." said Ancthas softly, "We do not yet know the source of the plague which infested our former home, so we should take all precautions. Also, the abominations have been seen in these parts. We will go quietly and warily -- stay close to me."

We masked ourselves with spare rags and followed the Dunlending Man as he flitted from one tree-trunk to the next, always continuing on his north-westerly track. My heart began pounding audibly the further on we went, always expecting some vile monstrosity to leap out at us from the undergrowth. The forest was, however, uncannily silent. We saw a few rats (some of these were quite large) and very many swarms of insects, but nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly, Ancthas signaled for us to halt. We froze and held our breath. Slowly and stealthily, he led us around the bole of a particularly large tree, and there we saw a loathsome sight.

Two misshapen figures were hunched over a third, which lay on the ground between them. They were tearing savagely at the fallen shape, but it was hard to see clearly through the murk, so none of us could make out what it was we beheld at that time. We could hear their gruntings and half-formed speech, but it sounded to me like nothing I had ever heard before out of Man or beast.

I had turned my head toward Gaelira and was just about to ask her what she thought the figures were when the ring of steel sounded in my ear: Ancthas had drawn his sword and cried a Dunlending battle-shout as he raced toward the two shapes. The monsters charged wildly and swung their arms at him, but Ancthas fended them off with his shield. The thwick of Nephyn's bow sounded behind me and I saw her shaft pierce the left shoulder of one of the two figures, but it seemed to have no impact on it aside from the force of the blow itself. Then I noticed that, despite being wounded by several of Ancthas's sword-thrusts, the two creatures appeared unharmed: they fought as ferociously as ever! The next thing I knew, both Lagodir and Drodie had entered the fray. The beasts, whatever they were, were unarmed and fought only with fist and claw, and so were outmatched. Lagodir lopped the head off of one while Drodie and Ancthas systematically dismembered the second: first the arms, then one leg, and finally the head itself came off before the thing crumpled to the ground at last. Gaelira, Nephyn, Minasse, and I joined our friends amid the two corpses while praising their prowess-at-arms.

"Those were mighty strokes, friends," said Nephyn, "And all the more so since my darts seemed to make no difference to them. Perhaps my aim is off due to this cloudy atmosphere."

"No, you aimed well, huntress," said Ancthas as he cleaned his blade in the grass. "It is a thing we have observed concerning the abominations: they do not seem to feel pain. It was not always thus -- when first we encountered them they did not behave this way, but over time they developed this characteristic. They progressively became more deformed as well, until they ended up even as you see them now."

"But what are they?" I asked in revulsion. By then we could see what the third shape was the other two had been bending over: it was a boar, but it had been beaten and torn to pieces, apparently for its meat, which had been eaten raw.

"They are Orcs," said Ancthas. "Or were."

He used his sword to turn one of them over and I got my first good look at the creatures. They were indeed Orcs, but they have been covered in so many growths, cancers, and lesions that one had to look hard to identify their origins. Yet there were the glaring eyes, the yellow fangs, and the bowed legs of Orc-kind... but everything was deformed, even for Orcs, grotesque and mutated. Great bulging boils and creeping scabs covered almost every inch of their bodies and in some places the flesh seemed to be slowly melting away. I felt sick.

"They look like Orcs, if you can see past all of this... whatever it is," said Nephyn. "But if they no longer feel pain, do they also not fear the Sun? That would be most unusual for Orcs, yet we encountered these in broad daylight."

"Yes," Ancthas answered her, "They have slowly lost their fear of the light the more the plague took them. The three things may be related, but we do not yet know the cause. So? Where are your jokes now, Gondorian?" Lagodir looked down at the monstrosity, but he did not speak. Minasse, meanwhile, bent low to more closely examine the fallen form.

"How interesting," he said in a clinical voice. "They must have been exposed so some form of corruption. But what? And why? I suppose we would assume whatever happened to them was not meant to happen. I can think of no reason such a thing would be done deliberately."

"Our thoughts align, Elf," said Ancthas, "But we who have fought them long are no nearer to an answer than you who have beheld them today for the first time. Come, I would show you Lhan Colvarn itself; perhaps you will have some ideas on how we could dislodge the abominations from our homes."

"Are you certain you would want to?" asked Gaelira. "Would that not be dangerous, if you are uncertain as to how the Orcs came to be this way?"

"You misunderstand me," said Ancthas. "We will never return to Lhan Colvarn, but we wish to exterminate these creatures and take our vengeance for the death they brought upon us. Before the plague befell them, the Orcs murdered many of our kin and drove us from our houses. We would have justice done upon the invaders, but we hold no delusions of ever walking those streets again."

We crept along warily, all the way to the very gates of Lhan Colvarn. It was a simple village, no different than the several other Dunlending settlements we had seen throughout the region, but it was deathly quiet: only a few faint whisperings and rustlings reached my ears as we peered through the outer palisade walls.

"I see no movement within," said Ancthas quietly. "I wonder what that might mean; in the past there were always many -- Wait here!" Without any explanation, he rushed headlong into the town! My friends and I remained just outside, watching intently. We saw Ancthas run stealthily to a low hut near the entrance where he stooped as if to examine some bundle of oddments on the ground. Suddenly I realized it was another person and, almost without realizing it, the six of us moved to join him inside Lhan Colvarn.

"Haizah!" We heard Ancthas cry, his voice wrung with sorrow. "What have they done to you?!"

It was a Man, and he was alive... or at least he still had his breath. But he was so twisted and misshapen like the Orcs we had seen earlier that my heart was wracked with pity for him. Like the Orcs, his skin was mangled and bleeding with hideous pustules and gaping sores oozing everywhere. His face was half eaten by the plague, and his mouth and throat had become so deformed that, try as he might, he could not communicate with us. Ancthas wept beside him, but he would not touch Haizah, nor hold his hand.

"I will avenge you, my friend," he whispered, "I swear it."

Haizah could only make some guttural, choking sound in answer. Then, as if the Man's final living wish had been passed on to another, he promptly breathed his last. We hung our heads and Ancthas' tears fell heavily to the ground, but Minasse took him by the arm and brought him to his feet.

"Come, friend," he said, "Your duty calls you, and this place is not safe."

"I cannot leave, not yet," Ancthas said thickly. "There were others -- others I knew, others who may still live. I must search for them." Without waiting for another word he was off, darting from one pile of refuse to another in search of his kin.

I sighed heavily and looked around. The very air seemed thick with pestilence, but I felt nothing wrong in myself. The huts and houses all looked ordinary enough, except that they were all empty and abandoned as if in a hurry. One or two homes had been burned down, but in truth the place bore few marks of the Orkish invasion Ancthas had described. It was a truly surreal scene, and I was eager to leave it.

Suddenly we heard a great shout and the clash of battle! We ran up the street to find Ancthas engaged with a half dozen of the mutated Orcs. Our weapons rang in challenge as we charged into the fray. As before, the abominations were unarmed and not difficult adversaries, but their visage was so ghastly that it took an effort of will just to oppose them. Once again they showed no signs of pain as we cut and hacked them down one by one. More came. Our blades danced in the afternoon Sun beneath the gloomy boughs of the reddened oak leaves. And more came. Each new wave was more hideous than the one before it, and I began to wonder if we would die there, buried beneath a gruesome pile of deformed corpses, but all at once the onslaught ended, and the silence returned. We were very tired, but thankfully none of us were injured. We had felled some two dozen of their number, and the stink of the dead was beginning to rise.

"Your desire to find your kinfolk is admirable, Dunlending," said Lagodir, speaking for the first time that day, "But perhaps it would be wiser to --"

"Ancthas?" came a voice from somewhere up the street. "Ancthas, is that you?"

"Rhoshek!" Ancthas shouted in answer, apparently recognizing the speaker. "Rhoshek, my brother! Where are you? Tell me what happened!"

We hurried forward together and found the new survivor. This one, too, was clearly suffering from the effects of the terrible plague, but his case was not as severe -- at least not yet.

"Ancthas!" Rhoshek said as we approached. "Can it be? What madness brought you here? Leave! Leave now if you have any sense and value your life!" At this, Rhoshek shook with a violent fit of coughing, and blood flew from his lips.

"Not until you tell me what has become of you -- of everyone," Ancthas insisted. "Speak, or here I shall remain forever."

"Very well, brother," Rhoshek nodded. "I have little enough time as it is. "It was Saruman! The Orcs bore the mark of the White Hand and spoke the name Sharku. Who else could they mean but the white wizard? They must have brought some poison with them. So much death... so much pain..."

"Come with me, Rhoshek! I will bring you to Lhan Rhos and perhaps the shaman can find some cure. Or let me take you to Edgerin! He is near and would surely aid you, if anyone can." But Rhoshek shook his head.

"My time is nearly ended, Ancthas," he said. "Nor will I risk spreading this pestilence to any other, most especially you. No, I would die here, in my home and among my people, for die I must. But you! You must bring destruction to the White Hand. Swear this to me!"

"I swear I will see the White Hand thrown down," Ancthas replied. "Dear brother -- you fought bravely when they came, and I know you will rest well. Forgive me: I dare not stay longer lest more abominations find me here." Rhoshek nodded at him, then reached out his hand in token of farewell.

"Remember me as I was, brother, before this," he said. "And please -- I never had the courage: tell Idwal I love her." Ancthas nodded, then turned away. We followed him at a short distance. I saw only his back, but I almost felt as if I could see Ancthas's rage and grief swirling around him like a cloud. My heart was pounding and my breath was short -- it felt as if the Man might break like a dam at any moment and his fury would come pouring forth.

We walked quickly out of Lhan Colvarn before turning south. After about a mile or two, we suddenly stopped at the base of a large oak, though no one had given a command or asked for a halt. Ancthas knelt at the trunk and bowed his head. His sobs were deep and heart-wrenching, and our Company mourned with him, though we were unable to assuage his misery.

A short time later, Ancthas stood again and turned to face us. His eyes were red from weeping, but his voice was steady.

"You have fulfilled your part of the bargain," he said. "Now I shall fulfill mine. I will lead you to Edgerin as I said I would. This deed shall be my last before I devote the remainder of my life to taking vengeance for Rhoshek and my kin. Come, we go at once." None of us spoke, but we immediately obeyed his command.

We marched in total silence. Ancthas led us south-westward until we came to a rushing river, then he turned south and kept it on our right. The Sun sank behind the hills and evening softened the light, but still we marched on. It must have been after eight o'clock and getting dark when the Dunlending stopped us and pointed to the far shore of the water.

"Here we cross," he said. "You should take care as the current is quite strong." I blinked.

"The five of us can manage to ford," said Nephyn, "But I fear our Halfling may require some assistance." Without a word, Ancthas began searching among the river-reeds and returned when he had found what he sought: a large piece of solid drift-wood, roughly the same size as myself. Using it as a balance in the water, I was able to bob alongside Nephyn while holding her hand and so come to the other side without too much difficulty. There was a spot of bother just at the end, though, when I stupidly let go of her thinking I would have an easier time of clambering up the bank under my own power, but the current caught my drift-wood (which I was, just as stupidly, still clutching with white knuckles) and spun me off a good ways downstream. The others managed to run ahead and intercept me before I had gone more than a half-mile, and so that crisis was averted, but I was also very water-logged, bruised, and unhappy.

We decided it would be best to camp for the night after that ordeal. Drodie got a splendid fire going and I was dry again before too long. We had a hot meal too, which certainly raised my spirits, but there was always the threat of another attack by the abominations, the very memory of which was disquieting. We posted two at the watch per shift, but nothing ever showed itself within the ring of our firelight. Ancthas and Nephyn had taken the first watch while the rest of us attended to various duties. Drodie was gathering spare wood for the fire, Gaelira and Minasse were in council together (which was becoming more common of late), I was working on my journal, and Lagodir was off a little ways from the rest of us caring for his weapons and armour. I was in the middle of trying to draw a resemblance of one of the abominations for this entry when I suddenly emitted a terrific sneeze.

"I hope this doesn't mean you'll be catching cold," said Nephyn. "Mark my words, Padryc, we are going to make a waterman out of you yet!"

"Water-hobbit," I corrected her, "Of which there's been precisely none since the Dawn of Time and you, my dear Neph, are not about to change that so you might as well stop trying."

"Swimming seems like a very good skill for an adventurer to have," she said. "It would have served you well multiple times on our travels together, today not least."

"I would have no need of such a skill if you lot would stop leading me into bodies of water," I retorted. "Speaking of which, where are we, exactly? And where are we going?"

"The Pristine Glade," came Ancthas's reply. "It is not far -- we should come there before noon tomorrow."

"And Edgerin is there?" I asked.

"I believe so, yes," he said. "Whatever business you have with him is your affair, but I must tell him about the words of Rhoshek. He must know that the White Wizard is behind this corruption."

"He would be rash indeed who leaped to such a conclusion," said Gaelira and she and Minasse approached.

"Why?" Ancthas shot back.

"He is held great among the Wise -- an ally to all those who oppose evil."

"And? I care not for such things. Have not others, mightier than he, turned to dark paths before now? I will trust the words of my fallen kin over the murmurings of Outsiders." I heard Lagodir forcefully put down his work, but he did not speak.

"We only mean it would be prudent to gather proof of your suspicions," said Minasse diplomatically. "The better to rally allies to the cause of avenging your people -- I am sure your Edgerin would agree." This brought no response from the Dunlending.

"Let us set aside any words of blame this night," said Gaelira softly. "Today Ancthas witnessed a great suffering which befell those he loved. I know how terrible a sorrow it is to helplessly witness your kin falling prey to such a scourge, my friend, and we share in your grief."

"Thank you," Ancthas replied. "The White Hand have committed a crime that our people will never forgive. I will keep my word to Rhoshek: justice shall be done upon them and whatever masters they serve."

"And who is Idwal?" I asked. "Perhaps we can help you fulfill that part of your promise if we happen to be traveling near wherever she lives. It was Rhoshek's dying wish that she be told of his love for her."

"I will not keep that promise," said Ancthas. "Idwal survived the invasion and escaped to Lhan Rhos, but there she died from the plague more than three months ago. Rhoshek never knew."

There was no more conversation that night. The fire crackled merrily in our midst, but everyone's eyes were turned outward, toward the blackness, each absorbed in their own thoughts. I wondered what sorts of revelations might await us in the morning when we finally reached the mysterious Edgerin, deep in the wild country of Dunland. I slowly fell asleep while listening to an owl calmly singing his nightly tune, as if in mockery of us and our troubles.

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 73

Unlikely Encounters

Monday, 8th of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Starkmoor, Dunland

The Dunbog

So much has happened today that I despair of having enough time to write it all down -- if I had a week to spend on nothing but scribbling then perhaps I could do this day justice. As it is, I shall have to truncate much of what transpired for the sake of brevity while still conveying all of the strange things which made up this strange Monday.

The light of dawn was only just beginning to creep across the heavens when Minasse roused us. Gaelira had gone on ahead, he said, to scout the road and see if she could find any sign that Enro Smuin had gone that way, so we were meant to march out and meet her on the road. Breakfast consisted of munching biscuits and dried strips of bacon while on the move, much to my dismay. We had been covering so much ground in pursuit of various persons lately that I was beginning to wonder when might be the next time I would get to enjoy a hot meal.

The day was quite hot, as one would expect here in the midst of the summer months, but the mornings where actually pleasant enough, especially since we still had the cover of the trees. The canopy soon gave way, however, and right about the time it would have been most welcome. We passed from under the boughs into a rough land of stone and sand, fully exposed to the heat. I very soon found myself alternately fanning my face with my hat and wearing it (despite it making me hotter and more uncomfortable) in order to keep the Sun from baking my poor scalp.

We had gone maybe four or five miles when we found Gaelira. She was engaged in conversation with a Dunlending Man named Andras who was on his way, he said, from the village of Avardin in the south to Galtrev for trade. It was fortunate that he spoke somewhat of the Common Tongue, and we learned that he had seen a person matching Smuin's description pass south along the road late the previous day. We thanked Andras for his assistance and resumed our journey. Gaelira had little else to report, except that she had noted footprints up and down the dusty road which appeared to have been recently made.

"But there were clearly several different feet present," she told us, "And it is impossible to know whether any of them might have been Smuin fleeing our pursuit."

"Why would he be fleeing at all?" I asked. "Wouldn't he think he had done us in by sending us to our deaths at Iargandir's hands?"

"Certainly not," Gaelira answered crossly. "Were you not paying attention yestereve when Nephyn read his note to us? He believed Iargandir to be nothing more than a local legend, which he used as a false lead to send us astray. There is no reason to think he actually believed Iargandir was real. Of course, such is often the way with mortals: they believe anything outside their personal experience to be imaginary. It is a curious fact that those doomed to spend such a fleeting time on this Earth have arrogantly convinced themselves they understand everything there is to know about it. And then, when they do encounter some 'new' discovery, they invariably ask each other whether all they knew about the world was wrong. A wiser question would be: why were they so convinced that everything they thought they knew about the world was right to begin with?"

I blinked and shut my mouth in a hurry. Apparently the Elf was in no mood to entertain casual inquiries this morning, though I couldn't imagine what had gotten her so agitated. We marched on a good distance further in silence.

Soon the ground began to climb upward. Looking ahead, I could see the rocks rising high above us on either side while our path ran its dusty track between them. The sky was hazy with the heat but a vibrant blue, and not a cloud was in sight.

"Perfect place and time for an ambush," I heard Drodie mutter beside me. I immediately began scanning the hilltops for any sign of a threat, though I saw and heard nothing. I briefly considered asking whether we ought not veer off the road so as to make ourselves less of an obvious target, but I quickly saw the futility of such a suggestion. We would have had to scale the tumbled rock-piles to our west or east if we were to find any path forward off the road itself, and doing so could have been dangerous and would easily have taken hours. Haste demanded we brave the road and take our chances with exposure and attack.

Our pace slowed a bit as we ascended the incline. The sweat rolled down my forehead and soaked my collar, but I trudged doggedly on. By the time we finally cleared the crest I was breathing heavily and my head was spinning, but I did receive a minor reward for my efforts in the form of a stunning view. The road suddenly fell away and ran a winding path southward where it eventually found another Dunlending village (which we supposed must be Avardin) a ways ahead and to our right. To our immediate left and eastward, the rocky landscape piled higher and higher until it was crowned with an impressive set of ruins. Ancient spires rose and seemed to touch the sky itself, but most of the structure had fallen long ago.

"Vaguely Gondorian, I should say, from the look of them," said Lagodir as he shaded his eyes from the Sun. "It is difficult even for my own people to remember that our lands once very nearly met those of Arnor in this part of the world, back when our country was at the height of its power. It was for that reason, in fact, that the Enedwaith got its name: the Middle Country, or the Land Between."

"A small and passing moment in time," said Minasse staidly, though I don't think he meant it as an insult. "You feel an echo, then, of what I myself feel for the loss of my homeland in Eregion. I trust you would see those towers and walls rebuilt, Gondorian?"

"I would see the towers and walls rebuilt in the South Kingdom as it stands now," Lagodir replied. "Osgiliath was once the pride of our realm, and now it lies in ruins as much as those you see before you here. And Minas Ithil, white and fair in the moonlight, was taken by darkness."

"So too shall be the fate of your beloved Tower of Guard, Southron," came a sneering voice, "When my Master brings fire and sword within the walls of your city." Suddenly, a horsed figure strode atop a nearby outcropping, black and threatening even in the full light of noontide.

"Izarrair!" I shouted.

"Well, well. What have we here?" he mocked. "Elladan's freeloading troublemakers. I had hoped you would be fewer, but I see instead that another misguided fool now walks alongside you. I trust your welcome in Dunland has been to your liking?"

"We have no fear of you, lickspittle," said Minasse calmly. "You are a mere shadow of the terrors I have overcome throughout the three Ages of this World."

"Bold words, coming from a race which even now writhes in its death-throes," Izarrair laughed. "But it matters not: go about your business with this sorry group and the Eldar will be one the lesser soon enough. The warriors of Dunland are strong and have no fear of duvodiad, particularly Gondorian cowards. Wouldn't you agree, Lagodir?"

"I have found your countrymen naught but what I already took them for," Largodir replied, "A base and honourless people, more comfortable with hurling threats and insults from a safe distance than backing up their mouths with their swords. I still await the day when you will accept my challenge to prove otherwise."

"In my own time," came Izarrair's answer. "And, once I have humbled the insufferable arrogance that is your trade-mark, I will personally drag you to Mordor on a leash. Of course, this will happen only after flames consume the Riddermark and you watch as Gondor is dismantled stone by stone and its cowering people are put to death. I promise you will live long enough to see this truth come to pass."

"Will you?" Lagodir asked as he drew his blade.

"Ah, always so quick to resort to violence," the horseman snickered. "I have half a mind to simply let your own rage consume you, which would certainly amuse your servant-girl," Here, he turned his face to Nephyn. "Perhaps my mistress can find a use for her, though I would think her too skinny to survive long in the iron mines; the Dwarf might be better suited, if he can manage to avoid tripping over his own beard long enough to make himself useful. And then there is the Halfling." I started as his masked face fell upon me.

"Yes," he said quietly, but with great menace. "I now know your kind, you diminutive rat. I was too hasty before, but I will not make that mistake again. You had best scamper back to your village, little one -- if I come there first you will return only to ash and ruin." I drew my dagger, but made no response. I could tell from his voice that he smiled at me from behind his mask.

"It was most unwise of you to join this Company," he went on, "I shall enjoy seeing your folk given to the chiefs of the tribes of Dunland to be their pets."

There was a sharp twang from behind me: Nephyn had fired an arrow at the horseman. It struck his pauldron and snapped back, foiled. The huntress instantly nocked another shaft.

"Not while I draw breath," she said, the cold fury in her voice sending shivers down my spine. "I fired in anger just now -- I will not miss my mark a second time." Izarrair spurred his horse and turned this way and that, making himself a difficult target.

"I hope you are entertained by the welcome I have prepared," he said. "Especially you, Gaelira; Dunland will be your end." And with that he dashed away eastward at full gallop.

"Good heavens!" I exclaimed. "What do you think he meant about my home? You don't suppose the Shire...?"

"I do not think so," said Gaelira. "He said village. Most likely he means only the village of Maur Tulhau, from whence he believes you must have come. There are many villages in the Shire, and it remains well protected, to say nothing of the many hundreds of miles which lay between us."

"Still, I hope he does nothing terrible to those poor folk in Maur Tulhau," Nephyn said. "They seem hardier than any hobbits I ever knew in the Bree-land, but their ability to resist a true attack would be faint at best."

"Yet we ourselves cannot be everywhere at once," said Minasse. "Let us continue on our road. Fret not, Padryc! If Izarrair had any real power to thwart us, he would have done so by now."

We moved on, but the horseman's threats were not without their effect: from then on it felt like a dark and looming presence followed hard on our heels -- even the bright day seemed to become harsh and bleary as we descended the winding road down from the ridge toward Avardin. Once we were reasonably close to the village, we held a brief council among ourselves. We decided it was worth the risk of entering that place to see if we could learn anything concerning Smuin's whereabouts. As before in Galtrev, we donned our respective disguises and passed within the walls of the settlement.

We found Avardin to be almost as bustling a place as Galtrev, and trade was clearly its mainstay. Merchants of all stripes were loudly hawking their wares while villagers moved to and fro about their own business. There were vendors' stalls everywhere you looked, as well as a sizable field with a sort of raised wooden stage that served as an auction block. There was a large, heavily bearded Dunlending Man calling sales from there who seemed to take a great interest in us, and he beckoned us to him. Once we had joined him in a secluded corner of the marketplace, he introduced himself.

"You speak to Bedwur," he said conspiratorially, as if he expected us to recognize the name. "You are after the duvodiad called Smuin, yes? I hate that sniveling dog -- he comes into Dunland making trade, acting as if he has every right to transact business with us and stealing my customers. Come, you follow me and I will deliver him to you."

We nodded and followed Bedwur as he wove his way through Avardin. He led us down the sandy streets and into a close alleyway somewhere on the western side of town. There were dark doorways on either side and piles of refuse were giving off an offensive reek. I felt a pit open in the bottom of my stomach as I suddenly realized we were in a very tight and enclosed area -- the sort of place you'd want to avoid if you were being hunted. Bedwur led us all the way down to the end of the alley, then turned to us and smiled.

All at once, a dozen Dunlendings leaped out at us from the shadows! They were mostly armed only with clubs and daggers, but we were in such close quarters that it was impossible to properly defend ourselves. One Man grabbed me from behind, lifted me off my feet and thrust a smelly sack over my head. I could hear the others struggling while Bedwur laughed at us.

"Stupid foreigners!" he said. "I may hate Smuin, but at least he is no fool. He traded me your necks for his, and now we'll be rich, right boys?! Remember, the bounty has changed: the Halfling is wanted alive, but the others all get the axe. On second thought, save the dark wench for me! I'll keep her as my share of the take."

There was a terrific row. I could hear flesh punching flesh and all manner of grunts, heaves, and shovings. My arms were being crushed into my ribs, but eventually I managed to land a well-placed kick backwards with the heel of my foot that plunged directly into the midsection of my captor, forcing him to drop me. I pulled the sack off my head and whipped out my dagger. Two Dunlendings withdrew from the fight after I had put holes through their legs!

I looked around, but the close space and my height prevented me from seeing much. Gaelira was grappling with one Man while both fought over control of her staff. Lagodir was engaged in fisticuffs with two more and had already knocked one out cold. Drodie had lowered his head and bowled into the thickest of the ruffians, but he was quickly being subdued by sheer numbers. Nephyn and Minasse, meanwhile, were wrestling with several others. Things were looking grim.

I had just made up my mind to come to Nephyn's aid first when something caught me from behind around the neck and lifted me into the air! I fought to relieve the pressure, but I was slowly having the air choked out of me. From where I dangled, I could see Bedwur's smirking face as he watched our Company being gradually beaten down. I felt a surge of fury raging hot within me, but I was hopelessly overpowered and beginning to lose consciousness.

Just then I heard a shout from behind me followed by the clash of steel! The chokehold my assailant held on me suddenly gave way and I tumbled to the ground. Picking myself up, I saw his head had been cloven in two, and the cause quickly became clear: a strange Man in a mask had come to our aid wielding a bright sword. I watched as he dispatched two more of our attackers with skillful blows, and the tide of the battle began to turn. Bedwur's smirk quickly became a mask of fear, and in moments he called for a retreat. Those of his fellows who were still able to stand fled into the buildings. I looked around in bewilderment.

"Follow me, duvodiad," said our masked saviour. "You cannot stay here."

"Who are you and why should we follow you?" Minasse demanded.

"If you value your freedom you will do as I say," he replied. "The Avardin guards have no interest in protecting the rights of Outsiders. I will take you by safe ways out of the village. Then we will be able to speak in peace."

It seemed we had no choice but to do as the strange Man bade us. Following his lead, we quickly passed up one street and down another. More than once I nearly lost the Company as we bustled and pushed our way through the crowds, but our mysterious leader was careful to ensure we stayed together. Eventually we emerged out the south-end of Avardin and plunged into some thick shrubbery. We crawled through this a short distance, then took a short breather.

"The Sun will soon be setting," the Man said as he scanned the heavens. "We can wait here a brief time, then we will make for that collection of boulders, and then to that copse of trees you see there." We nodded our assent. After we had caught our breath, we followed his lead once more. By that time, we were a good two miles or more from the edge of town and felt it was safe to rest properly.

"I may never forgive myself for falling into such an obvious trap," Gaelira fumed as she tore off her disguise. "How else could Bedwur have known us unless Smuin had described our raiment to him? I am indeed the fool he named me."

"I thought it suspicious at once," said Minasse, "But I considered it possible that word of our pursuit may have found its way to Avardin from Galtrev -- we made no serious effort to conceal our intentions when we returned seeking Smuin, and word seems to travel quickly in this land."

"And once again Smuin has eluded us," I said while gladly removing my fake beard. "He's a slippery fellow, that one. Still, it was worth it to meet such a valiant Man as our new friend here, and I'm plenty eager to learn why he would show such interest in us."

"We see duvodiad in Avardin plenty often," said the Man as we sat and leaned upon the trees. His voice was heavily accented after the manner of the Men of Dunland. "Though not as many as one would find in Galtrev, of course. But even Outsiders know not to trust Bedwur the Auctioneer, which means you must be either complete fools or total strangers in this land."

I was finally able to take a good look at our rescuer. He was of average height, but he was stocky and muscular with a dark skin which made me believe him a Dunlending himself. He wore hide armour (which was common enough to see in that region), but his mantle and cloak were made of rough furs. The sword that hung at the leather belt around his waist was of peculiar design and he bore also a tall shield which he kept slung across his back. His face was, as I had mentioned already, obscured by a strange mask: it covered his entire head except the eyes, and these were deep and dark. He seemed to regard me with a particular interest.

"We are guilty on the second count for certain," Nephyn said to him. "To what do we owe the honour of your acquaintance?"

"By which you no doubt mean: why would I, a complete stranger, risk my life to save yours?" he laughed. "A just question, and one with a simple, if not entirely noble answer -- I hate Bedwur. That walking dung-heap has cheated me and my fellows more times than I care to remember, and I look forward to the day I can repay him in kind. Today, unfortunately, was not that day as I was alone in Avardin when we had our little encounter. If I am able to frustrate any designs of Bedwur's then I count it a score on my end of the wrongs which I begrudge him, but none of this means I owe any kindness to you." This last remark seemed to hold a thinly veiled threat, and I began to wonder whether we hadn't escaped from one villain only to fall right into the hands of another.

"You have our gratitude," said Nephyn, "But our business is not something we wish to discuss with a complete stranger."

"This is my home, duvodiad," came the reply. "Here, you are the strangers. Am I not owed your names, at least, in exchange for saving your necks?"

"We are not answerable to any masked vagabond met by chance upon the road," scoffed Lagodir. "Least of all shall we reveal our purposes to --"

"Peace!" said Minasse with a forcefulness I had never heard in his voice before. The was an uncomfortable pause. "I am called Minasse. This is Gaelira and we are of the Elder Kindred, as you no doubt know already. With us are Nephyn of Bree, Drodie of the Blue Mountains, Padryc, who hails from the Shire, and Lagodir, a chance companion."

"A Gondorian," Lagodir vehemently corrected him. "And I care not at all whether this Man of Dunland knows it, still less whether or not he likes it." There was another pause as the Man met Lagodir's icy stare. Then he reached up and withdrew his mask. He was swarthy with long, dark hair and a short beard. His face had a fierce look, but I saw in it also a certain measure of patience in thought which I had not yet seen among his countrymen.

"I am Ancthas, oath-keeper of the Turch-luth," he said. "I lead a small group of resisters -- freedom-fighters, if you like. I have no doubt your business must be important to bring you here, though I am outnumbered and in no position to demand that you answer me. However, if you will trust me then perhaps I can assist you. But first I must know: whom do you serve?"

"We are Free Folk and serve only those interests which keep our people free," retorted Lagodir hotly. "Whom do you serve? Are you in league with the bulk of your kin which plot war against the West and the South?"

"I, too, serve only my own people," Ancthas replied coolly. "And so we have at least that in common, Gondorian. Unfortunately, few of my people remain: the Turch-luth were all but destroyed in the endless strife between the clans. I lead those few who still survive, holed up in the farthest reaches of the Dunbog -- the one place none would pursue us. I return there now to rejoin my men."

"The Dunbog?" said Gaelira. "Then we travel the same road, noble Ancthas, and we are in sore need of a guide. We seek --"

"Gaelira!" Lagodir objected, but the she-Elf waved him off.

"We seek the one called Edgerin. We have reason to believe he abides now in the Dunbog." The eyes of Ancthas were suddenly lit as if with a dark fire.

"Ah! You seek that one, do you? Then your information is correct: there he is, or was when last I saw him. I suspect you shall find him there still."

"Why do you think so?" I asked.

"Because of the abominations which have come to us out of the swamp," Ancthas answered me. He let his response hang in the air for a moment.

"Abominations?" I echoed.

"Yes. Plague-infested creatures. We think them some manner of Orc, but they are hideous, twisted, and fell to look upon."

"Are not Orcs always hideous, twisted, and fell to look upon?" mocked Lagodir.

"You have not seen them, so I forgive your jest," said Ancthas grimly. "But these abominations, they are unlike anything I have ever seen before. If you are headed into the Dunbog, then I think you will behold them yourselves, and then we shall see what becomes of your tone."

"Where did they come from?" asked Minasse.

"We do not know," he replied. "They have taken over what had been the very last village of the Turch-luth, the Boar-clan, my people, which we called Lhan Colvarn. We had only just managed to make it livable, such as we were able, when the abominations fell upon us. This would have been a little over six months ago. Many were slain, and what few escaped were driven out into the mires. We established Lhan Rhos in the centre of the swamp and have been fighting to reclaim Lhan Colvarn ever since."

"We owe you much for your rescue this day, brave Ancthas," said Gaelira. "Moreover, we rejoice that we draw near to finding Edgerin at last. We will help you to reclaim your home in payment of that debt, in whatever way we can." I thought these were honourable words and true, but Lagodir snorted his disagreement.

"I accept your offer," Ancthas said with a bowed head. "We are not accustomed to welcoming the aid of duvodiad, but our cause is dire: there is some sickness which pervades the very air around Lhan Colvarn these days. It causes my men to quickly fall ill, forcing them to abandon the fight."

"Why was your clan targeted from among all the others?" asked Nephyn. "The endless warring among the tribes is well-known even in my distant home, but I have never heard of anything like this happening before."

"Nor has it, until very recently," Ancthas said. "We were destroyed because we spoke out against the White Hand."

"The White Hand?" said Minasse. "Tell us more of this."

"Have you made it this far into Dunland and not seen them?" he asked. "Perhaps they do not go about everywhere as boldly as they do in the southern reaches -- Men and Orcs and half-orcs bearing the sign of a ghastly White Hand upon a sable field. It is the mark of some higher master which they serve, and they work to unite all the clans of Dunland under their banner. My people refused to be swayed, and we have paid the price for that refusal with our blood. We had thought our near-extermination was enough, but then the abominations appeared like a curse come to life in our midst."

"The White Hand serves a higher master, you say?" said Gaelira. "Have you any idea who that might be?"

"There are many theories," said Ancthas, "But personally I suspect the Wizard Saruman."

"This is outrageous!" Lagodir burst out. "Saruman the White is a true ally to both Gondor and Rohan. It was Beren, the nine and tenth Ruling Steward of Gondor, who gifted him the Key to Orthanc for the very purpose of keeping your people out of our lands. You seek only to sow discord among your enemies, Dunlending!" Ancthas stood to his full height and laid his hand upon his sword-hilt.

"I believe I have earned more respect that this for saving your hides," he said, his teeth set on edge. "But I would fight you all alone rather than stand here and be called false to my very face." Lagodir looked ready to oblige him, but Minasse leaped between the two.

"A thousand pardons, good Ancthas!" He cried. "My companion speaks only out of the long enmity which has festered between your people for many long years. Yet we can see there is suffering enough and to spare among your kin, and we should combine our strength in resisting this evil. I apologize on my friend's behalf." Here, he gave Lagodir a withering glare, but the Gondorian only turned his back and walked off a short distance, alone.

"If what you say is true," Minasse went on, "Then it would be grave news indeed, and our allies would wish to know of it. Saruman is held to be both powerful and deep in the counsels of the Wise. What proof can you give us of your suspicions?"

"Little enough, I fear," Ancthas admitted. "Only that there is no other power anywhere near this region which would stand to benefit from raising the clans against Rohan, seeking war and worse to come. Too many of the tribes readily hearken to such lies, and the White Hand has agents throughout the land, filling their ears with poison. I myself have no patience for this -- I do not believe my kinsmen will ever again inhabit the plains of Rohan while its people endure. I bear no love toward the forgoil, but we will gain nothing through war, only more death and continuation of our long sorrow."

"You speak as one far-sighted," said Gaelira, "And we would be honoured to assist you in whatever way we can. But for now the Moon rises and our Company is in need of rest. I fear we will not be able to follow you if you are resolved to return to your men this night." But Ancthas shook his head.

"The road is still long from here to Lhan Rhos where my people fight the abominations, and the swamp slows any sojourn. No, I will remain with you tonight and tomorrow I will lead you through the fens."

This ended our eventful day, although the tension in our Company continued to reach new heights. Everyone seems to be on edge: I have largely kept to myself since Nephyn has been very withdrawn all evening. The Elves have gone off on their own, speaking together in their soft tongue, while Drodie snores loudly nearby. Ancthas had patrolled the perimeter of camp a while back, but I noticed he steered well away from Lagodir, who still hasn't rejoined us even now that we have a small fire going. Tomorrow may bring a difficult trek through a mucky swamp, but right now it feels like we are becoming mired in something far worse.

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 72

Dancing With Death

Sterday, 6th of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Enedwaith

The caverns of Lhe Colvarn

I am so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open. At the same time I am so angry that the last thing I want to do is stop marching, and I think I can speak for the rest of the Company in saying we all feel the same way.

It is probably close to midnight by now. We have been on the march since the late afternoon -- my feet are killing me and the sweat is dripping into my eyes, despite the Sun having set hours and hours ago. We haven't yet left the Bonevales or made it back into Dunland proper, but we are very close. Ever since our run-in with Iargandir, our party has been of a single mind: to find Enro Smuin.

Ah, you must forgive me, Dear Reader: I've had quite an eventful day. I'm afraid I must be confusing you terribly by jumping ahead in time this way, so let me go back and tell this tale in the right order. Hopefully I can stay awake long enough to explain what happened.

The others had let me sleep in a bit this morning, for which I was very grateful. I was in no hurry to go rooting through musty old barrows in search of Iargandir, Smuin's supposed "death-wizard" (as the shifty-eyed businessman had called him), so I took my time going about breakfast while the others scouted our position or discussed plans and strategies on what to do once we had found him. I couldn't tell you what a "death-wizard" was, of course, but the fact that we were hunting one in the middle of a bunch of spooky grave-sites was not much to my liking. The important thing, though, was that this Iargandir was ostensibly (according to Smuin) the chap who was willing to pay a pretty penny for our death or capture, and we meant to have words with him about it.

But doing so meant entering a particularly nasty-looking barrow. Minasse (we had run into him, quite unexpectedly, last night, you may recall) had noticed some unusual activity around a certain area of the Lich Bluffs, and we supposed this was as good a place as any to start our search. The site was only a short distance south and west of our campsite, and by ten in the morning we had reached it. Unlike most of barrows we had seen which were dug into the sides of the hills, this one was more like a hole in the ground, though it was also surrounded by a few tumbled and moss-strewn ruins.

"I heard these tombs called Lhe Colvarn by the Algraig, the Men which live in this land," said Minasse in a quiet voice. "No one seems to recall when it was delved or for what purpose, but they have always feared it. Of late, rumour is the Dead come forth from this place in the dark of night to trouble the lands about. I had thought to investigate of my own accord before resuming my search for you but, now that our paths have crossed, perhaps we have more than one purpose for exploring here."

"I can't see the bottom," said Nephyn as she stooped at the opening. "How shall we go down?"

We were forced to enter by first letting down a length of rope while making the upper end fast to a sturdy rock, then climbing down one at a time. I was not especially handy at this feat: I bounded off the stone walls repeatedly during the descent of twenty or so feet it took to reach bottom, so I was already bruised and dirty by the time everyone else made it inside.

Drodie lit us a few torches and we began our exploration. The air was heavy and stale, and one quickly forgot that just a few feet overhead the Sun was shining hot and merrily on the rolling grass-plains of the Enedwaith. There, beneath the earth, all was silent and still. There had been little talk amongst ourselves all morning as it was, but there in the dim murkiness of the barrows, any sound we made felt like an affront to those who lay there, hidden and decompsing, for centuries under the hills. Our torch-light flickered on the walls of the passageways as we proceeded deeper and deeper underground.

The way wound much: the path would swing first one way, then plunge down a short set of stone stairs, then swing back the other way again all while periodically opening up onto side-chambers wherein we caught glimpses of crypts or mummified bodies which lay in their eternal slumber. If there was any place in Middle-earth one might expect to find a death-wizard, I remember thinking then, Lhe Colvarn would have been it.

We continued creeping forward cautiously for what felt like hours. I was just about to ask how deep the place could possibly go when we saw the flicker of torchlight up ahead! Quickly, we doused our own lights and advanced as stealthily as we could manage. There was a sound as of some deep and guttural voice chanting in a strange tongue coming from somewhere, and the music of it throbbed in my ears as it bounded off the stone walls. Finally, we turned a corner and beheld a grim sight.

The passage opened into a wide burial chamber, in the centre of which was a great crypt, deeply carved with eerie imagery. All around the space were standing pillars, most of them broken and crumbled with time. A few torches burned in sconces nearby, and by their light we could see an emaciated figure swathed in rags kneeling before the tomb. His back was turned to us, but we saw he bore an evil-looking staff which was adorned with all manner of peculiar trinkets or fetishes and he seemed to be in the midst of some sort of ritual. Just at that moment, Drodie's boot crunched on the gravel and the Man abruptly ceased his chanting.

"Izarrair promised me you would not disturb my work," said a voice. We knew it was coming from the robed figure, but the sounds were echoed so uncannily it seemed as if the voice was coming from everywhere and nowhere all at the same time; the effect made my head swim with confusion. "That Man is as worthless as he is craven -- I shall deal with him later. In the meantime, let us see if you are able to finally add my head to your mantle, old friend."

The figure stood and turned. I winced involuntarily -- the face was a grotesque, twisted mass of growths and scarrings. The eyes bugged out at me like a frog's, but the pupils themselves were dead; icy and colourless. The face, like the rest of his skin, was pale and sickly looking, crawling with lesions; his thin arms nearly all bone and in places the muscles themselves were exposed. We beheld a walking corpse.

"Ai! A gaunt-lord!" cried Gaelira as our Company drew its weapons as one arm. My dagger gleamed red in the light of the fires, magnifying the trembling of my hand.

"Who are you?" the voice demanded. I could see halfway inside the creature's head through the side of its jaw, which was largely rotted away.

"Iargandir!" shouted Lagodir with recognition. "That was your name in life, was it not? We are Elladan's Outriders, and we have come to put an end to your scheming. But tell me why you demanded our capture and I shall make your end a swift one."

"Demand your capture?" Iargandir asked. "What would I want with you?"

"That is what you will tell us," said Nephyn as she fitted an arrow. "Enro Smuin admitted it was you who placed a bounty on our heads, so you can stop with the lying denials."

"I have never heard of Enro Smuin, or of Elladan's Outriders," the gaunt-lord replied.

"Liar!" Nephyn cried, and she let fly her bow. The shaft struck Iargandir squarely in the midsection, and there it remained, quivering. The gaunt-lord looked down at his wound then leered at us with a hideous, bemused expression.

"I do not lie, welpling," he mocked. "But the name Elladan is known to me: one of the twin sons of the half-breed lord of simpering Elves to the north. I know nothing of you or your business, but I suspect the Emissary will be greatly pleased when I present him with your desiccated husks, newly reborn into his service. Die now and despair!"

With that, Iargandir raised his staff and the torches suddenly went out! I was in total pitch darkness, the likes of which I had not known since the inky void inside the vaults of the Skeleton King which haunted the Barrow-downs near Bree. Then I had very nearly lost my mind with fear, and the memory of that black day came roaring back into my heart and mind unbidden with a freezing terror which paralyzed my limbs. But the frantic voices of my companions rose in a great noise around me and my will was stirred. I could hear Lagodir shouting challenges, Nephyn calling for me, Drodie raging in his fury, and Gaelira crying for the others to stay together and remain calm. To my surprise, I also heard my own shrill voice begging for the others to help me. Despite the danger, I found my pride and tried to force myself to think: I remembered the wall was not far behind me. I would be in a safer position if I could put my back against it, thereby forcing any attack to come from the front. I extended my dagger out before me with my right hand and tried to feel for the wall behind me with my left. I took two steps to the rear, caught my heel on a stone, and tumbled backward in a heap. I smacked my head hard against something. Lights flashed before my eyes, I heard the ringing of steel and the crashing of stone, as if the entire barrow had caved in and buried us all for eternity.

The next thing I knew, I could see again. The light was dim and everything looked fuzzy at first, but slowly my vision began to solidify and I could tell that we were still underground in the strange burial chamber, but that torches had been lit. Nephyn and Gaelira were beside me and in fact my head was resting in Nephyn's lap as she tended to my hurts.

"What happened?" I asked and tried to sit up. A sharp pain fired down my neck and I sank back again with a groan.

"I think you knocked yourself in the head somehow," Nephyn said gently. "But don't worry -- you didn't miss much. I believe you were unconscious for little more than a few moments."

"You mean Iargandir is defeated?" I asked. "What became of him?"

In response, I heard Iargandir's gravelly voice speaking harsh words I could not understand. I raised myself up a bit and saw him lying a short distance away, but his body was shattered under a pile of heavy stones which seemed to have fallen from somewhere. I blinked, trying to decipher how our Company had been saved from his attack, but my thought was interrupted as Gaelira suddenly raced over to the gaunt-lord and proceeded to beat and hack him to pieces with her sword and staff. She worked with a fury I had rarely seen her exhibit, and it was not long before Iargandir's remains were utterly destroyed. The she-Elf then seized a torch and set fire to the undead flesh. A wailing cry went up from the wreck, and Smuin's death-wizard was no more.

"Why did you do that, Gaelira?" asked Lagodir as he sheathed his sword. "We may have learned more from him."

"He would have told us nothing," Gaelira replied coldly.

"She speaks the truth," said Minasse. "A gaunt-lord cannot be threatened with pain or reward -- such creatures are nothing more than soulless constructs which do their masters' bidding. We know enough already for our purposes."

"Well, I'm glad to see the danger has passed," I said, "But could someone please explain to me what just occurred? I may have only been out for a minute, as Nephyn tells me, but my poor head is quite sore enough without all this additional confusion. What happened to Iargandir?"

"Our foe was bested by Fate, it seems," said Lagodir with a smirk. "I heard you cry out in pain, Padryc, and so I deemed the villain was nigh to me -- close enough for a sword-stroke."

"That must have been just when I had tripped over a stone," I reasoned. "I had thought to put my back to the wall for safety." I looked nearby and saw that I had badly misjudged the distance in the dark: there was still another four or five feet between where I had fallen and where the wall actually was.

"A sensible enough plan," said Lagodir. "Well, I swung my blade at where I judged Iargandir to be in the blackness, but then I heard the clang of steel and Drodie shout at me."

"Yes, the Man laid into my shoulder something fierce," said the Dwarf, and I noticed he held his left arm against his chest. The armour he usually wore had been removed from that arm and he was clearly in some pain. "Still, as Lagodir says, Fate had ordained we would win this day, for the force of his blow launched me into one of these pillars, which I knocked over. The stones came crashing down on Iargandir and, well, you saw the rest for yourself."

"But how is your arm?" asked Nephyn. "It took the strength of both Lagodir and I to pop it back into place."

"Oh, I will manage," Drodie dead-panned. "Besides, I count us fortunate to have escaped with nothing worse than a dislocated shoulder considering the circumstances."

"Yes, Fate or Fortune have aided us this day," said Gaelira as she looked with disgust at the gaunt-lord's remains. "But that does not change the fact that Enro Smuin has betrayed us: Iargandir had nothing whatever to do with us and this entire detour into the Lich Bluffs has been a complete waste of time."

"I agree," said Nephyn, getting angry in her turn. "We must return to Galtrev at once! If we find Smuin there, then I really will let you take his leg off, Lagodir."

"I told you, you should have left the interrogating to me in the first place," the Gondorian replied. "This time, though, I will have to decide whether to take one leg or both."

"Come!" said Gaelira as she helped me to my feet. "To Galtrev! The odds are against us, but if we can catch Smuin before he has recovered from his wound, then we may yet have the opportunity to question him."

"Yes!" Drodie agreed. "And this time there will be no deal-making."

We had to bandage both my head and Drodie's arm before we could move at all, but this was done with all the care and speed we could muster. Armed with our newly lit torches, we were able to leave the darkness of Lhe Colvarn behind. Once we had all climbed out by way of the rope we had left hanging at the entrance, we had Drodie tie the cord around his waist while the rest of us hauled him up to ground level. This done, we immediately set our faces southward and began the return journey to Galtrev. Our hearts burned at Smuin's treachery, and so we continued the trek deep into the night hours. Eventually, however, I asked for a halt as my mouth was parched and my head was throbbing painfully. Drodie, too, I think, was glad of the rest, and so we ceased our pursuit around the midnight hour in a small alcove among the Bonevales.

I am doing my best to keep my quill steady in the midst of the gusts which still surge down through the defile which runs through the midst of the Bonevales. The wind howls endlessly as if in mockery of our foolishness at trusting the word of Enro Smuin. The entire Company has been completely silent ever since we left Lhe Colvarn, and I have no doubt that vengeance in on all of our minds.

Sunday, 7th of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Outside the West-gate of Galtrev, Somewhere in Dunland

Minasse and Gaelira had us all up again well before dawn to resume our journey back to Galtrev. The likelihood of finding Smuin still within that city was not great -- chances were he had bolted the instant he could manage it on his injured leg -- but if there was the slightest possibility we might apprehend him in or near Galtrev then it was worth the effort to finally learn something about what was going on in this land.

I pondered that very thing as we marched. The way I saw it, things had become rather confusing: Luean had been slain at Tham Mirdain, apparently at the hands of someone named Volfren who was a follower of Inar, the enigmatic Man who had deposed Mallacai as the leader of the Seekers of the Seven Stars. In order to learn more about Inar and how we might be able to confront or defeat him, Gaelira had led us into Dunland where she hoped to locate Edgerin, a former Seeker with intimate knowledge of Inar and his dealings. Along the way, we had been accosted by Izarrair, a Man in the employ of Amarthiel of Angmar, although he had mysteriously vanished from our path for the past few days. Finally, there was this "Emissary," whose name had popped up a couple of times -- once in Moria where we recovered the gondath and again just yesterday when we encountered Iargandir the gaunt-lord. All of this was becoming positively confounding and I was determined to try and make some sense of it all. I saw Gaelira was walking near me, so I sidled up to her for a little chat.

"Gaelira," I said as casually as I could manage, "Would you mind explaining to me just what we've gotten ourselves into here? I confess I'm beginning to lose track of everything that's going on."

"I cannot blame you for that," the she-Elf replied with a smile. "It is becoming absurdly complicated, at least on its surface. But I think we may be close to resolving many of our questions. It is clear Smuin knew a good deal more than he let on."

"Yes, that much is obvious now," I nodded. "I suppose it tickled his fancy to think he was sending us off to our deaths. I hope I get to see his expression when he finds us hale and whole and looking for him!"

"I, too, am looking forward to that moment," Gaelira said, her jaw set on edge. "But to answer your question, I see three factions involved: Inar's Seekers, Angmar (under Amarthiel's leadership), and the Emissary, who's identity I have not yet fathomed. It is possible that none of these three groups have anything whatever to do with each other, yet it seems we are pitted against them all at once. Dunland has proved a unique challenge for us: the sooner we can find Edgerin, I think, the sooner we shall learn much of all there is to learn."

"But... but Iargandir," I stammered, "How could Smuin be in dealings with something like that? I knew he was wicked, of course, but I couldn't imagine him cavorting with the Undead! What are we coming to?"

"Dark times," said Gaelira with a shake of her head. "I would not have thought him the type either, my friend, yet it appears to be the case. The depths of evil to which the hearts of Men may fall have never ceased to amaze me, even after all the long years I have seen upon this Middle-earth."

"Yes, it can depress one, if one lets it," I admitted. "On the other, hand, I suppose we are all susceptible to the temptations of evil in our own ways." Gaelira sighed.

"Your words strike deep at old wounds which have never healed," she said, but did not elaborate. At that point, Nephyn, who had been near us and politely listening to our conversation, joined in.

"You seemed rather put out yourself," the huntress said, carefully pushing into what I felt was likely to be unwelcome territory. "I have rarely seen you express such anger as you did there beneath Lhe Colvarn."

"Perhaps not," Gaelira answered stoically. "The perversions of the Enemy are many, but the gaunt-lords are a particularly vile breed. They are little more than physical manifestations of the dark wills which animate them; a truly despicable corruption with the sole purpose of spreading more corruption."

"I see," I said, though in truth I really didn't understand what she meant. "And what was it he said at the end that angered you so? I could not catch the words he spoke, but it sounded like it was full of hatred."

"Well do you hear and perceive," she answered me, "For his words were in the Black Speech of Mordor. He said we had failed and that the Emissary had called Doom upon Eriador."

"That's an unusual choice of words," Nephyn mused. "Was that all? It sounded to me as if he said more than would be needed to convey that simple message." Gaelira paused.

"Yes," she said at last. "He also levied a curse upon us."

"A curse?" I asked. "What kind of curse?"

"Nothing more than the typical hate-filled rantings of his miserable kind," Gaelira said. "I do not believe in such nonsense and neither should you." She said this in a way which made it clear the conversation was ended. Nephyn hung her head and said nothing.

There was little more talk all the way back to Galtrev. We reached the west-gate of the city at nightfall and donned our disguises before entering. We made a beeline for the trading post, but there was no sign of Smuin. We tried all the drinking-huts we could find, but still nothing. Finally, Nephyn happened to spy one of the Dunlending females who had been with Enro when we first encountered him in Galtrev almost a week ago. Nephyn approached her alone, spoke with her briefly, took something from her hand, and returned to us.

"I have something we should see," she said quietly. "But first, let's get out of town."

This we did as quickly but as casually as we could manage. I was afire with anticipation to see what Nephyn had obtained from the Dunlending woman, but she was right that it would be best for us to put some distance between ourselves and Galtrev first. A short while later we had halted roughly one mile outside of the city gates. We crouched behind a boulder and some trees to hear what Nephyn wished to report.

"That was Esult," she said, as if we were expected to know what she meant.

"Who?" several of us asked at once.

"The bar-maid that the Dragon-clan Man from the slave-camp had said he wanted to... oh, never mind. Look, she gave me this: it's a letter from our friend Enro Smuin."

"A letter?" said Lagodir incredulous. "I trust you asked this Esult which way Smuin fled?"

"Of course," the huntress replied, "But she said only that he left by the west-gate -- the same way we have come just now -- and she did not mark where he turned from there."

"Well, open that letter!" I cried, "Let's see what that dirt-bag has to say to us." Nephyn obliged me, and this is what she read:

Hail "Heroes!"

I hope you are not too sore at me for sending you on a wild goose chase into the Lich Bluffs. You really shouldn't trust shifty tradesmen at their word, but I would never deign to condescend to such noble and lordly folk as yourselves. Still, you did me a favour by giving me what you found in the Mange-rider's lair (fetched me a fair price at auction, I can tell you!), so here's a favour from me to you in return.

While I was treating myself for pain at the tavern, it came to my attention that someone had been asking for Edgerin in Galtrev. I could only assume it was you lot. I won't go into details about how (or why) I happen to know who Edgerin is -- long story -- but as usual you're barking up the wrong tree: he's not in Galtrev. Look for him in the swamps, in the far south-west of Dunland.

I still can't believe you fell for that gibberish I spewed about "Iargandir" putting that bounty on your heads! That name is nothing more than a local fairy tale used to scare children into going to bed on time or doing their chores around the farm. Anyway, it's a fair trade: my freedom in exchange for the information you wanted... plus I got a little entertainment out of it along the way as well.

Fair Travels, my "heroes." Believe me when I say I hope we never meet again.

But I doubt you'll be so lucky.

Cheers,

Enro Smuin

"What a conniving little skunk!" I fumed. "To think he just plucked the name Iargandir out of the air to send us on a pointless chase -- and all so he could put a few miles between us!"

"Nonetheless it confirms what I had suspected earlier," Gaelira said, "That his real employer instills enough fear in him that he would risk us not biting on his bait to avoid revealing the name. Ah, well, such as it is, we must press on. At least now we have some idea of where Edgerin may be, although I am very curious to know just how it is Enro would be familiar with him."

"For my part, I am more curious to know whether we can trust his word a second time," said Lagodir. "How do we know he is not sending us off in entirely the wrong direction yet again?"

"We don't," sighed Nephyn, "But at the moment we also have no other leads."

That was certainly true, and so we finally settled down for the night. Smuin had won: he had escaped us, wasted almost three full days of our precious time, and in exchange we gained nothing but the vague word of an untrustworthy source as to the location of our objective. Only time would tell whether our quest had any hope of success.

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 71

A Shadow in the Lich Bluffs

Highday, 5th of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Lich Bluffs, Somewhere in the Enedwaith

Tombs in the Lich Bluffs of the Enedwaith

The wind here very nearly makes writing an impossibility -- it swirls and howls through the tombs of these hills like an avenging spectre in search of a victim. I am barely able to keep my journal intact as it whips about, threatening to tear the leaves straight out of their binding. And yet there is much to relay, Dear Reader, and so I shall make a supreme effort to tell you what transpired this day in as brief a time as I can manage it.

The morning was still and fair, but it was quite warm, even in the early hours, which meant the day would likely be hot and uncomfortable. Such a clime was fitting, however, considering the explosive debates of the evening before: Nephyn and Lagodir hardly acknowledged each others' presence while Gaelira, and I spoke only in brief sentence fragments for fear of upsetting the tenuous silence. Drodie, indelicate as ever, hummed and sang snatches of some Dwarvish ballad while we marched, oblivious to the tension. Dunland was proving to be perhaps the greatest threat to our Company's cohesion yet, as Lagodir of Gondor sneered at its people while Nephyn (at least partially descended from that land, though I believe only she and I remain alone among the Company in being aware of this) insisted his treatment of the inhabitants was unwarranted. We had come over many leagues and through many dangers to reach Dunland in hopes of finding Edgerin, the mysterious and elusive ex-Seeker, to learn what we might from him concerning our adversaries. Yet now, after only three days, we were headed back north -- back out of Dunland.

My mind began to wander as we walked. How strange it was, the net of intrigue in which we now found ourselves! Mallacai had been deposed as leader of the Seekers of the Seven Stars, usurped by the enigmatic Inar, who blamed us for Amarthiel's rise to power in Angmar. Amarthiel herself apparently had dispatched her agent Izarrair to dog our footsteps as we traveled southward, yet he himself seemed to be on some other errand. And over all of this hung the still unresolved murder of Luean, our old friend and companion -- there was some evidence to suggest that Inar was behind it, but that evidence was circumstantial at best. I sighed audibly and hoped Gaelira's old friend would be able to shed some light on all of this confusion, but for the moment we were headed the wrong way: the shifty fixer Enro Smuin had revealed to us that someone by the name of Iargandir was responsible for placing a bounty on our heads, and so we were going to confront him about it. That path would take us back into the southern reaches of the Enedwaith known as the Lich Bluffs -- a name which was not at all to my liking. I sighed again and felt a hand laid gently on my shoulder.

"Do not despair, Padryc." It was Gaelira, and she spoke low enough that only I could hear her words. "I, too, am displeased at turning aside from our plain path, but if we are able to learn anything of value from this Iargandir then it will be time well spent."

"Ah, so Elves really can read thoughts after all," I replied with a grim chuckle, "That's exactly what was on my mind, as it happens, and I certainly hope you're right. But to be honest I can't say I'm completely unhappy to be leaving Dunland behind, even for only a short time -- I think that land has done more harm to this Company than all the foes we've faced so far, save perhaps Guloth himself."

"It is not the land which does the harm," she corrected me, "It is, rather, pride and stubborness, fear and loneliness that drive a wedge between friends. Still, such ailments can be cured and we must hope for something that may bring reconciliation. We cannot afford to become splintered now -- nothing wholesome has made its abode in the Lich Bluffs for many a long year, and I do not know what we shall find there."

Those cheerful words were met by the sudden appearance of steep cliffs rising to either side of the road in front of us. Our path ran on between them, looking very much as if it had been carved into the plateau by a rushing river ages and ages before, but was now become a dead and dry defile.

"We have come to the Bonevales," said Gaelira. "Let us go straight on through them and stray not from the road."

This we did, but it was a disturbing trek. It took almost five hours to pass through that region and nothing about it was pleasant. There were many side-paths leading away from the main road which ran into deep, shadowy ravines, but I thought I could hear strange noises coming from within these, and we hurried past them. The cliffs to either side, meanwhile, frowned upon us so that I became alarmed: I kept expecting them to come hurtling down on us in a rush and a fury of smoke and stone, and so we would all be buried alive there, forgotten until the end of Time. We tried to quicken our pace, but there was a strong wind blowing southward through the passage which slammed into our faces and bodies with such force that our progress was slowed. I screwed up my courage, leaned into the gale, and struggled on.

And so it wasn't until nearly the third hour after noon that we finally emerged into the southernmost region of the Enedwaith on the other side of the cliffs. The grass-lands rolled up to greet us and the road continued to run away before us, but to either side were low hills, brown and dotted with stony mounds. A cool breeze was rushing down on us from the Misty Mountains to the east. Normally, I would have been grateful for any such relief coming from the snow-capped heights after a day's long march in middle of summer, but there was something uncanny about that wind. It felt stale, as if it had been just been released from the depths of a tomb. I looked at the openings which spotted the hillsides with disdain.

"Barrows!" I murmured, "It figures that Smuin would send us into a place like this. And just where is Iargandir supposed to be, anyhow? Enro called him a 'death wizard,' so I don't suppose he keeps a nice little house with flower-beds and a duck-pond somewhere well away from all this."

"The Lich Bluffs," said Drodie as he looked around with distaste. "No, little hobbit, I don't suppose he does either. I don't like the idea of sticking my beard into every one of these foul holes any more than you do, but I also don't like walking around with a price on my head. If that is what we must do in order to find out why Iargandir wants us dead, then that is what needs must."

And that is what we did for most of the remainder of the day. We decided to start with the hills to the west of the road -- not for any particular reason, but simply because we preferred to have the intrusive wind blowing at our backs rather than into our faces. After about two hours of searching, however, we found nothing which indicated an inhabitant of any living sort. I found the whole ordeal downright miserable, but Gaelira was inclined to be optimistic.

"The great majority of these barrows are tightly sealed," she said, "Which is as it should be. One could hardly say the same of the Barrow-downs to the north, yet those tombs lie very nearly on the threshold of Bree itself. It is well that same pestilence has not found its way to these resting places."

"And yet we find no sign of our quarry," said Lagodir. "Let us search the eastern hills."

We crossed to the other side of the road and resumed our search. By that time, the Sun was deep in the west and the orange tinge of day's ending was already beginning to creep across the heavens. We moved quickly, for none of us wished to continue searching the barrows after nightfall, and already the howling of wolves could be heard, distant and mournful. We had just finished examining another of the baleful tombs when I suddenly felt Nephyn's grip on my arm.

"Everyone remain still and do not look up," she said quietly, but the excitement in her voice was palpable. "We are being watched from above."

"Where?!" cried Drodie and he immediately looked upward, heedless of her warning. I rolled my eyes at the Dwarf's lack of subtlety, but once he had given us up, the rest of us looked as well.

"I see! I see him!" I said. "Look there -- up above us on that hilltop! He ducked out of sight just now."

"There is a path leading thither," called Lagodir as he sped away, "To the north, behind this belt of trees! If we move quickly we shall have him."

I made to follow the Gondorian, but Nephyn caught me by the collar and pulled me southward.

"This way, friend Padryc," she said softly. "There is another way up to the south -- you and I shall be the jaws of our little trap as we snare our prey between us."

So it was the two halves of our Company converged on a single spot amidst the rocks and trees. A tall, slender figure was there dressed in the strange ceremonial garments which might have belonged to some Dunlendish shaman or witch-doctor, but his head and face were masked by a swaddling cowl. He regarded us steadily and with a calmness which showed no desire to flee. Lagodir stepped toward him and drew his sword.

"Hold, stranger," Lagodir called to him. "Who are you and what is your business in this land?"

"I would ask the same of you," came a muffled voice. "Such a strange company stands before me! Man, Woman, Elf, Halfling, and Dwarf travelling together in fellowship? Such things are not often seen here in the wind-swept hills of the Enedwaith. Will you not tell me of yourselves?"

"We will ask the questions, friend," answered Lagodir as he took another step forward. "Speak! Who are you that skulks about the stones of the departed? Your name is Iargandir, is it not? Speak, or I swear by the Winged Crown you shall not leave this hilltop alive."

"Iargandir? asked the voice. "I have been called by many names in my long life, but never have I heard that one." And with that the figure removed his mask.

"Minasse!" I cried joyfully. "Well, of all the people -- what on earth are you doing here?!"

"Mae govannen!" the Elf exulted. "I must ask you the same! I have been seeking you ever since we parted ways near the Doors of Moria, but I thought you were still many leagues south of me. Have you, then, found Edgerin already? What did you learn from him?"

"We have not found him yet," said Gaelira, "And our path has wound much since we parted. But there is time enough for that tale later. Tell us of yourself!"

"Yes!" cried Nephyn. "What happened? How was it you never came to Rivendell?"

So began an exhange of stories which lasted long into the dark hours of the night. We six gathered around a bright campfire to hear of the High Elf's adventures which had befallen him starting the day after the rest of us had entered Moria. The tale was long in the telling and I was unable to write it all down (chiefly on account of this annoying wind that refuses to let up), but I will record here what I did gather from his account. 

You may remember that Minasse had suggested we brave the Mines while he return to Elrond with the news of Luean's murder? It seems that Minasse had barely commenced his journey when he was attacked by Moria-goblins which had somehow found their way out into the plains of Eregion. Their numbers were too great for Minasse to overcome on his own, so he fled into the high passes of Caradhras. There, he was able to evade them, for he could endure the harsh snows and biting winds of the heights while his adversaries could not. He came down again once he had judged the enemy had withdrawn, but it turned out the goblins were lying in wait for him. Then Minasse only just escaped with his life, but he was forced to flee far to the west and wolves were upon his very heels. He spent many days dodging them among them holly-trees, but always he was driven westward, out of his intended path.

"At first I thought them nothing more than a common orc-pack ranging for food or slaves," Minasse told us. "But they pursued me with such fervour that I now believe they were dispatched specifically to waylay me. And, while they obviously did not catch me, they did succeed in preventing me from reaching Imladris straightaway."

"I thought I had seen someone slinking among the ruins near Echad Dunnan just before we made to enter Moria," I said. "I wish to goodness now I had said something about it."

"That was most likely a scout of the same war-party which pursued me," said Minasse. "If the orcs knew about your entry into Moria, I fear you must have had an evil time with them once you passed inside."

"No, we did not," said Gaelira. "We encountered no orcs at all while we journeyed in the Mines. I suspect the scout did not inform the other goblins about us because he assumed we would be taken by the Watcher in the Water, but there fortune was with us and we escaped the guardian's ire."

Minasse them told us how he was pursued day and night all the way to the River Gwathlo before he was finally able to shake the pursuit. He did finally keep his word and returned to Rivendell, but by that time the rest of us had already come and gone. So it was that Minasse knew from Lord Elrond all about our finding of the gondath, the destruction of Guloth, and our current task to find Edgerin in Dunland. He had been following us as swiftly as a tireless Elf could, and he had nearly overtaken us. Our sudden detour at the behest of Enro Smuin ultimately caused us to cross paths at last, right here at this very spot!

"Finding your trail has been difficult," Minasse said. "Word about your passing has been easy enough to hear, but unsurprisingly the denizens of this land are not over-eager to chat with a wandering Noldo. I have been obliged, therefore, to take on a more... primitive appearance, and so it is you find me thus arrayed." He looked with disgust at the Dunlendish furs which now hung draped on his slender frame.

"Yes, we have had our own dealings with the charming locals," said Lagodir. Nephyn shot him a withering look. 

"But we have had to contend with more than just Dunlendings," I jumped in, eager to change the subject. "There was also that scary horseman, Izarrair."

"Izarrair?" said Minasse with raised eyebrows. "That name I heard spoken among the goblins which pursued me. It seems our adventures do indeed have a link, as I have long suspected. Tell me what you know of him!"

And so we did, but Minasse was unable to shed any light on the Man's purposes, his interest in our party, or even what he might be doing in Dunland at all. 

"Evil is on the move throughout many lands," he lamented, shaking his head, "And Dunland is no exception. Even here, in the forlorn hills of the Enedwaith, is the will of the Enemy at work. As close as I had come to finding you, I had resolved to first drive out whatever foulness has infested these hills: the Dead walk here by night and the howls of the Wargs draw ever nearer." I shivered.

"Iargandir?" Nephyn asked. 

"I spoke true when I said I had never heard the name," Minasse replied. "But if what Enro Smuin told you was true, then perhaps this Iargandir is behind the unrest here in the Lich Bluffs. I had traced the source of the trouble to a particular barrow not far from here. I think we should investigate; perhaps we shall accomplish two objectives at once."

"But not now, I hope you mean," I pleaded. "Can't we at least wait until sunrise?"

"Yes, we should certainly do that," Gaelira agreed. "The power of evil waxes in the hours of darkness. Let us rest."

And so it was we rested in the glow of a warm fire as the night closed in around us. In spite of the gloom and the constant howling of the wind, I dozed easily. I knew that our fellowship was complete once again, beyond all odds. Tomorrow we would do whatever was necessary to track down Iargandir and then, finally, we would begin to get some answers to our many questions.