Highday, 12th of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in Dunland
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| The Great Oak of the Pristine Glade |
Let me start over. This is the hand of Nephyn, Dear Reader (as I see Padryc was fond of calling whomever might eventually read this journal of his), and I suppose I must explain how it is I have come to be relating our tale for the second time. Unfortunately, I don't have our hobbit's flair for verbosity nor a great amount of time in which to get this done, so I will be brief but thorough.
Yesterday evening, Padryc and I had gone for a stroll around the Pristine Glade. Drodie and Lagodir were practicing their sword-play while Minasse and Gaelira were in conference with Edgerin. The two of us took great pleasure in seeing the Glade from many angles since it is a very lovely place. It was an invigorating walk, but he and I have been good friends almost right from the start of this adventure so, after a short while, I began to suspect he had something weighing on his mind.
"It's just odd to think," he said to me, "That Inar might have been lurking in the fields around Bree all this time."
"Yes," I said, knowing he would open up to me soon if I was patient. "None of us could have known at the time, of course."
"True," he said, then collected a stone from the shore-line of the beautiful pool by which we were standing at the time. He flung it expertly across the water and I watched as it skipped away from us. "But that's not what's bothering me, as I'm sure you've already guessed, Neph." I waited.
"It's like this," he said slowly, "If we will be going back to Bree, I wonder if I will have the heart to leave it again. It's been, what, more than eight months now that we've been abroad? I've felt homesick ever since shortly after coming to Dunland. I know it has special meaning for you, but it has been hard on me, feeling so out of place like this."
"I can certainly understand that," I said. "After all, I was the one who has felt out of place in Bree most of my life."
"I know," he sighed, "And I hate myself for feeling this way, it's just... I don't know, maybe the adventuresome side of me is getting tired. To be honest, if the road back to Bree takes us through Rivendell again, I really don't know if I would be able to screw myself up to not remain there for good." I did not answer. As much as I did not like the idea of parting from my best friend in all the world, the allure of finding a place one can truly call home hits quite close to my heart; I wouldn't want to weigh on his decision either way since I knew what I would have preferred. We kept walking. The ground began to rise steeply and I became aware we were near the entrance to the Glade. I looked up the slope; the day had ended and night was in the sky. Tilion's glow was only just beginning to creep over the edge of the hills which surrounded us.
"Say, let's go back up there and have a look down on the valley again," Padryc said as he pointed. "It was rather stunning when we arrived this afternoon -- I wonder what it looks like now that evening has fallen." We laboured up the slope through the rich grass. Once we had nearly reached the entrance, we stopped at a tall pine tree which had a clump bushes at its base and turned to see what lay below us. It had been a tiring climb, but the reward was worth the effort: everything looked so peaceful from that elevation, and the many waterfalls which fed the glade glinted like diamonds in the light of the rising Moon.
"Ha! See how small the others look from up here," Padryc laughed. Our companions did indeed look like miniature toys at that distance, and I smiled at my friend's amusement. He always could find joy in the simplest of things -- a remarkable trait of his kind which I have reminded myself more than once in the course of our travels that I would do well to emulate.
"About what you said earlier," I began with a little clearing of my throat, "I don't think anyone could blame you for wanting to live out your days in a place like Rivendell. I would miss you terribly because, of course, my own journey is not yet complete, but even I who have never had a proper home can understand the pull of one. I would never dream of denying such a thing to anyone, you least of all."
"I know," he replied, "But I also know what you mean when you say your journey is not over. And it's a funny thing, now you mention it, because lately I've -- what was that?" There was a sharp crack from the bushes behind us. Suddenly I felt myself falling and blackness overwhelmed me.
The next thing I knew, I felt my cheek being gently slapped by a gloved hand. My head and neck were seared by a blinding pain, and all I saw was a bright blur. I shut my eyes hard and tried to force myself to concentrate, but thinking only made everything hurt more. There was a cacophony of voices all around me and, while I couldn't understand what any of them were saying, I was vaguely aware that it was my companions who were speaking excitedly.
"Are you alright?" asked one voice.
"Ask her what happened to Padryc!" said another.
"Be careful where you step! I have not yet checked the ground for any signs," said a third.
"Wait, I have just the thing for pain in my satchel down by the oak three," said a fourth voice. With an effort to my memory I recognized this was Edgerin speaking. "I will return shortly." I heard his footsteps retreating down the slope. My head was throbbing so badly that my eyes hurt, and I kept them tightly closed.
"Drodie, have you any smelling salts among your gear?" said a female voice. As my mind slowly cleared I knew this was Gaelira.
"No, not for months," the Dwarf answered her. "I had transferred all such things to the hobbit's backpack. He had taken it with him when he went walking with Nephyn last night."
"Last night?!" I cried and tried to sit up, but the pain was too great and I remained laying on the ground. "Last night! Padryc and I had walked up here to see the valley in the calm of evening, but something must have hit me over the head. You mean to say I've been unconscious all night?! What time is it now?"
"A little after seven o'clock in the morning," said Lagodir. "Drodie and I had fallen asleep waiting for you while the Elves were off doing whatever it was they do. When we awoke and saw the two of you had not returned we immediately began searching the Glade. It was Edgerin who happened to notice your foot protruding out from under this bush here: apparently your attacker drug you into the undergrowth after subduing you, but we have found no trace of Padryc." My stomach turned itself into knots.
"Not no trace," came Minasse's voice from nearby, "I am no tracker, but I think I can safely say there was a struggle here recently. It is all rather confused, but I should think there are some hobbit prints here and here, but then they disappear and I can only make out the prints of I think two distinctly different booted feet. They leave the Glade by the way we came in yesterday afternoon."
"Yes, that cavern is the only way in or out of the Glade," said Edgerin, who had just returned bearing his satchel. He was puffing and blowing from ascending the slope to the entrance, but his eyes were afire with concern as he administered a salve to the back of my neck and gave me a spring of some pungent herb to chew on. The agony subsided noticably, but I remained in a great deal of pain all the rest of that day.
"Spearmint," he said as he worked. "Not as good as peppermint, of course, though still decent enough in a pinch. But this is not good at all -- it seems one of your Company has been spirited off by parties unknown! You had best get after them at once if you are to have any hope of recovering him."
"Yes," Gaelira agreed. "And there was still so much I wished to discuss with you, old friend. I don't suppose you would consider coming with us?"
"I? I am hardly fit to go adventuring," Edgerin laughed. "I would only slow you down and I am needed here to help the people of the Dunbog deal with the pestilence of Lhan Colvarn. However, if he is willing, I would say Ancthas would make a far more appropriate ally for you. Of course, he does have his own duties to consider."
"I do," said Ancthas with a frown, "And, as much as I dislike leaving my people in the face of the abominations, there is also the question of honour." I saw Lagodir give the Dunlending a sidelong glance at this. "The huntress was attacked and her friend made captive while they were in my land and under my care. If you will have me, I shall help you recover your lost companion."
"You aid would be most welcome," said Gaelira, "Particularly as we remain strangers here and do not know the various places in it one might seek to hide a thing of value."
"Of those there are many, I'm afraid," said Ancthas. "But at least for now we know the general direction Nephyn's attackers must have gone: the mountains stop any travel westward from this spot, so the only possible route is back east into the fens."
With that settled, we quickly bade farewell to Edgerin and thanked him for all his advice. In moments, we had emerged from the Pristine Glade and returned to the outer edges of the Dunbog. It was like walking through a misty portal or into a dense cloud -- the crisp air and pastoral beauty of the Pristine Glade instantly gave way to the grimy haze of the swamp.
"Now what?" I asked. Normally I would have been at the head of the search as our Company's resident tracker, but at that moment my head was still pounding so that I felt content to be led for a bit further.
"They will have had to cross the river, just as we did when we came here," said Ancthas. "Let us continue our search down by the banks."
It took no real skill to find the spot in the muddy earth where our adversaries had forded. We were just about to cross ourselves when suddenly Minasse gave a cry and darted into a thicket of trees. He emerged moments later carrying a small bundle. My insides lurched when I recognized Padryc's backpack!
"No!" I exclaimed as I ran to examine it up close. "No, no... The brutes! What did they do, drown him here in the water? Padryc hates the water! We should search the river for any sign of a body!"
"Nephyn, calm down," Gaelira said to me, "And try to be rational: your attackers wouldn't follow us all this way, overpower you, then steal our Halfling just to suffocate him in the first river they found. They are obviously after the considerable bounty placed against his capture, which means we also know the place to which they are most likely headed."
"Where?" I asked reflexively, before realizing I myself already knew the answer.
"To Galtrev, naturally," she replied, "It follows because that is where the posters all said to inquire about the bounty. It is a safe presumption but a presumption it is, so for now we should continue to follow the tracks wherever they lead us and for as long as we can. Come, let us cross the river and resume our chase! Our opponents have several hours' lead, but they have not accounted for our resolve or determination to recover our companion."
"I, like all my kin, am well-tried at the hunt," said Ancthas, "And I know these lands like a wolf-pup knows his mother's bay. So long as our bounty-hunters be not ghosts, we will overcome them."
"And woe to the bounty-hunters, should your words prove true," said Minasse darkly.
We plunged into the swift, cold water. The shock did wonders to arouse my dulled senses and, when we all emerged on the far bank, I felt myself rejuvenated. I took up the point and had no difficulty finding and following the trail for some distance. Swamps typically are excellent places for finding tracks, as a rule, and the Dunbog was no exception. In fact, Saerdan had initially trained me in the art beginning in the Midgewater Marshes for that very reason. Eventually, however, even I was unable to locate the path and we spent many long and fruitless minutes searching the ground in ever-expanding circles before finally admitting we were at an impasse. However, Lhan Rhos was not far from our position at that point, so we decided it would be worth a slight detour to the south to inquire of the locals whether anyone had seen anything suspicious.
Lhan Rhos was already visible just a short distance south through the murk. Half an hour later we had reached the edge of town. There was a guard there leaning lazily on his spear who apparently recognized us from the other night when we had passed through the village.
"Ho, you lot!" he called to us, palm outward. "You didn't pick up anything catching out there in the swamp, did you?"
"No," I said to him, "And we are not going into town; we only wished to ask if you happened to see anyone suspicious pass this way since last night."
"Well, I saw a couple of poachers," he shrugged. "At least, that's what I took them for: there were two of them and they were carrying a large sack full of something or other. They were about a half mile north of town and headed north-east, as best as I could tell in the dark, out of the Dunbog."
"And you didn't think to stop them?" Ancthas demanded.
"Oh, it's you, Ancthas," the guard said, looking a little concerned and suddenly standing up a little straighter. "Er, yes, I did think about it, but... well, I thought it would be best to not leave my post on account of a couple of poachers. Not when the abominations are out there."
"You know poaching is against the elders' decrees," Ancthas scolded him. "Moreover, they were not poachers at all -- they were bounty-hunters transporting an innocent captive, and you permitted them to escape."
"Yes, sir," the guard said, morosely, "Sorry, sir."
"We must move on," said Gaelira, "We have wasted precious time on this detour." Ancthas leaned in threateningly toward the guard and stuck one finger under his nose.
Next time, be more watchful, I heard him say in Dunlendish (or maybe it was vigilant... I am hardly fluent). Then we turned and departed.
With the guard's help, we were eventually able to pick up the trail again. The muddy footprints led us north and east, beyond the swamps, and toward Avardin. It was already late afternoon when we halted just outside the village, unsure of what to do next.
"What now?" I asked the others. "Something tells me walking into town and asking everyone we meet if they've seen our hobbit bouncing along in a sack isn't a good idea."
"What if we don our disguises and try to casually pick up information?" Lagodir suggested.
"I do not know if we can afford the time," said Gaelira. "Besides, I am not sure that Avardin would be their final destination. What do you think, Minasse? Minasse?" We all turned to look for the High Elf, but he was gone!
"What in blazes!" I exclaimed as I threw up my hands. "Has someone kidnapped him now, too?"
"No, there he is," said Gaelira. "Wait... what is he doing?!"
Minasse had strolled right into the middle of town and hopped onto the auctioneer's block. He threw aside the cowl he normally wore, and his golden hair gleamed in the rapidly westering Sun.
"People of Avardin!" he shouted. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him.
"Two bounty-hunters came through town recently with a friend of mine tied up in a sack. I wish them brought before me or to know where they have gone." I stood there, rooted to the spot in horror and disbelief. I looked at Gaelira, and I saw her jaw was hanging slack. Then I realized mine was doing the same. There was a total silence for what felt like an eternity.
"I am not the patient sort!" Minasse shouted again.
"Cuthraul!" someone screamed.
"Druggavar!" cried another.
"GUARDS!" called many more. A small-scale riot followed as dozens of merchants, craftsmen, and villagers all pushed and shoved to exit the area. Women herded their children into their homes while the Men grabbed axes and spears. It looked for all the world like we were about to find ourselves on the wrong end of a massacre.
I suddenly became aware I was being dragged by the arm. It was Ancthas, and he led us all into the midst of the quickly evaporating crowd, seized Minasse, and thrust us ahead of him toward the town's eastern entrance (near the stables). Dogs were barking and chickens screaming as they fluttered to get out of our way. Ancthas kept shoving us until we had gone some ways beyond the edge of town and taken cover in a small thicket of bushes. Even now I am not sure how we ever managed to avoid the guards, but we took a moment to catch our breath.
"What in the name of all the spirits were doing, Elf?" Ancthas snapped at Minasse.
"What is the matter?" the Noldo asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "I was merely asking the people of that pitiful collection of malodorous huts (which they seem to believe is a 'village') about our missing companion. If anyone therein has the information we seek, then they have no right to withhold it from me." Ancthas stared at him, dumbfounded.
"You may be older than me by far, Eldar," he said acidly, "But this is Dunland. You are duvodiad. You think you can flaunt your high-born status and expect everyone to cower at your feet?!"
"I had no intention of being friendly to the folk of a town which attacked us and tried to make us captive the last time we passed through it," Minasse retorted. "Besides, I was under the impression that these people were warring with your own."
"Then perhaps you are not nearly so wise as your long years would suggest," Ancthas shot back. "It so happens the inhabitants of Avardin are not my enemies, aside from Bedwur and his scoundrels, but that is not even any of your concern. It was Bedwur and his thugs who attacked us, not the ordinary folk which live and work there. Avardin is a place like many in this world: full of frightened people trying to do nothing more than survive on a meager living when all the rest of creation seems to be against them and constantly looking down their noses at them. And if you need proof of my words, I would ask you to examine your own idiotic actions just now!" Ancthas was so furious that the spittle flew freely as he raged, but I felt a certain surge of pride in his defense of the simple folk which dwelt in his homeland.
"Quiet, both of you!" Gaelira hissed. "We should move further away from the town -- I think the guards are beginning to search out this way." Just then, one of the dogs which had gotten excited by our hasty exodus came trotting up, barking loudly. We tried to shoo him away, but with no success. We immediately dashed off, but the animal followed us. It seemed particularly interested in me and became quiet when I allowed him to get close. Now, creatures of all kinds have always tended to be friendly with me (a fact which has earned me more than a few gentle teasings at the hands of my companions over the months), but there was something unusually forward about this dog. He kept sniffing at my shoes and my leggings.
"Get off, you silly thing!" I scolded him, but in truth I was relieved it was no longer barking at us and making a ruckus. "Go on! Get out of here. You'll not get any of my food, you know -- I'm going to need all I have." Suddenly, the dog barked once and bounded off, following the road to the north-east. The realization struck me like a bolt of thunder.
"The swamp!" I cried. "He smells the swamp on my feet and my legs from wading through the muck. The bounty-hunters carrying Padryc must smell the same way. Quick! After him!!"
Without a word our entire Company sprang away with renewed vigour. The path began to climb upwards and I recognized that stretch of road as the same area where we had first beheld Avardin some days before. The Sun slowly set behind us and still the dog trotted on. We were clearly on the same road back to Galtrev by which we had initially entered the Starkmoor, but then the dog came to a fork in the road and took the eastern branch. We were surprised by this at first, but then Ancthas pointed out that road could also lead one to Galtrev if one turned north again at the next juncture.
We ran on. Midnight came and went. I was exhausted, but I would picture poor Padryc bound and gagged being driven in front of his captors and I kept running. We would overtake the swine, I kept telling myself. We had to.
The dog continued to run east and we followed him. At one point the road ran between two tall rocks; even as we approached I thought it an excellent spot to launch an ambush. From a distance and in the dark of night I thought the pass was littered with fallen stones, but the nearer we drew the more unusual shapes they took. Then the bottom fell out of my stomach: Orc-weapons! Curved scimitars and cruel flails were scattered here and there, clear signs of a struggle. At once we began to search the area, but there was no sign of Padryc nor any corpses.
"From the markings here I should say the Orcs had the upper hand," said Lagodir. "Fortunately, it appears they were not attacking to kill but only to take captives. Let us go after them!"
By that time it had been more than a full day since I had slept last -- unless you count the time I spent unconscious in a bush, which I do not. My limbs hung like lead, but I kept on. The trail led us to a small encampment of Orcs, goblins, and Wargs. We spent only a few moments scouting our enemies but we did not have the luxury of time -- we decided on our strategy and launched our assault.
I can see from Padryc's earlier entries that he often takes care to describe our battles in fine detail. Well, firstly, I am not he. Secondly, I'm dead-tired as I write this and looking for any excuse to shorten the tale before we must set out again. Thirdly, I have no desire to relive violence. However, I must also consider it my duty to relate matters of import when they occur, so I will tell you a little of what went on in that camp.
We drove the goblins and Wargs before us with a white fury that none of them dared to withstand. As the camp's inhabitants emptied, I spotted a particularly large goblin -- and he was wearing Padryc's hat! I don't even remember doing it, but according to the others I instantly drove an arrow into its mount, and that sent the goblin flying. We were upon it as soon as it hit the earth. I nocked a second arrow and pointed it straight at the goblin's heart.
"What have you done with our friend?" I demanded as Lagodir snatched the hat from its head. Drodie pinned the goblin's arms and held him up for me to interrogate.
"Friends of the little runt, are you?" the goblin sneered, although I now recall the fear behind his eyes. At that precise moment, however, I was not feeling especially empathetic. A fired my second arrow into the creature's right thigh.
"GAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!" shrieked the goblin. "Savage Woman! Leave me be!" I drew the Sword of Ringdor and held the blade to its neck.
"What of our friend?" I said again. "Speak!"
"Simply tell us what we wish to know and I will set you free," said Minasse calmly from over my shoulder.
"Fine, fine," the goblin spat. "Our scouts saw a group of Men leaving Barnavon. They acted as if they were transporting something of value, so we followed them and ambushed the lot in a narrow place. They was easy pickings, but we didn't find no gold or jools, just a Dwarf-runt wearing that stupid hat, so we figured we'd sell 'em off as slaves. We penned 'em over there in that stockade, only the little one must have had a knife hid on him somewhere, 'cause next thing we knew they had broke out! We chased 'em a ways, but they ducked into the Mine, and it weren't worth it to go following 'em in there."
"The Barnavon Mine?" echoed Ancthas. "That lies to the south and east of this place. Rumour is that place is haunted. The town watch from Barnavon has been trying to clear it for a while now, but without success."
"That's right, Man," sneered the goblin, "And I hope your little friend leads you all to a very unpleasant end in those caves. But that's the whole story, so now you must keep your promise and let me go!"
In one motion, Minasse grabbed my weapon and swung. The goblin's head skipped from its shoulders and rolled a short distance in the dusty earth. Lagodir chuckled cruelly as I grabbed the Sword of Ringdor back from the Elf's hands.
"What did you do that for?" I shouted. "You promised to set him free if he talked."
"And I did," Minasse shrugged. "I freed his miserable head from his wretched --"
"Oh, shut it!" I screamed. "Does your word mean nothing?! You'll cause an ill fate to befall us if you go breaking promises on a whim like that."
"You're starting to sound just like the primitive denizens of this land," he sniffed. That was too much for me -- I stormed off out of the camp. I didn't care at the time whether the others followed me or not, but I soon realized they had done so.
"I hope you have more faith in these companions of yours than I do," said a soft voice in my ear. I made no sign, but I knew it was Ancthas whispering to me in Dunlendish. "In Dunland, we would not trust those who would twist their own words so." I did not answer, but I felt as if my heart had been torn at that moment. I fought back the angry tears which sprang into my eyes and forced myself to think of poor Padryc, lost and alone somewhere in a haunted mine.
Ancthas was the only one among us who knew where the Mines lay, so he took the lead. It was probably the fourth hour after midnight by the time we reached the place. The entrance appeared as though it had once been quite busy with forges and winches everywhere, but even in the darkness it was clear that it had been abandoned. We wasted no time locating the opening and plunged inside.
The blackness was almost absolute, but we lit some torches and began our exploration. This would probably be the point where our usual poetic author would provide you with all kinds of colourful descriptions about how dark the caves were and how we all felt as though we were being pursued by half-imagined phantoms or whatever, but all I noticed was that the tunnels wound quite a bit and that there were definitely some odd noises coming from somewhere further within. To make a long story short, we eventually discovered someone in that Mine from the sounds of his fevered cries for help. Once we reached him we tried to ask whether he knew anything about a hobbit being down there, but he only demanded over and over again that we help him escape, so we led him back through up to the entrance and outside where he collapsed from exhaustion. The cool light of dawn was only just beginning to creep into the sky.
"You promised to tell us anything you know about the Halfling," I said to him after giving him a drink from my water-skin. The others positioned themselves to ensure the Man did not try to flee. I think the idea came into his head, but it quickly vanished when he saw our number and obvious skill at arms. He was a Dunlending, that was plain, and while this may have made him suspect in the eyes of some of my companions, I at least was willing to hear his tale before taking any action.
"Are you friends of the little one?" he asked with wide eyes. "Please, just let me get away! I don't care what happens anymore, not after this. I'm through with this business."
"Who are you? Why did you take him?!" I shouted into his face. The Man cringed and cowered away from me; he was in a truly pitiful state.
"I am called Wilim," he answered. "There were two of us, me and Siam, and we were two of Bedwur's Men from Avardin. We wanted the Halfling for the bounty, so we followed you after you left town a few days back. It was just me and him, you see, so we couldn't take you all on at once. We followed you through the Dunbog and waited for the right moment. It was Siam that hit you over the head and I plopped a sack over the Halfling's head and we were off. We got through the swamp alright and made it back to Avardin where we met up with Bedwur and his lads. Bedwur, he wanted the bounty too, of course, so he arranged for a dozen of us to transport the little one to Galtrev to collect. Well, we only made it about halfway when those wretched goblins attacked us out of nowhere. They took us captive and marched us to their camp which isn't too far north of here."
"Was the Halfling injured?" I interrupted.
"Him? No! He was whole and hale last I saw him. In fact, it was he who freed us. He must have had a dagger hidden down his trousers or something, because the instant the goblins' attention was turned he had sliced through the thong which held the cage doors shut and we were sprung! We slipped out of there quickly, I can tell you, and the goblins chased us but we had the head-start. Once the Halfling was back under our control, we ducked into this Mine to escape them, and they wouldn't follow us in there. Well, now I know why! That place is haunted! They took Siam and Matho and Inir and who knows how many others."
"Who is they?" I asked.
"Them!" he roared. "Demons! Fell-spirits! Whatever corrupt evil roams in there! You couldn't get me to go back down again, not if you promised me a king's ransom for it."
"Is the Halfling still inside then?" I demanded.
"No, the ones who held together managed to escape, but they left the rest of us to our fates in there."
"And where are they now?"
"Gone to Barnavon," he said. "I heard them say they wanted to find a more reliable way of transporting their prize."
"And how long ago was this?"
"Half a day? Maybe a day? I have no idea how long I was down in that horrible Mine. Please, just let me get away!"
"Just a moment," I said, "If the Halfling had his dagger, what became of it?"
"Oh! We took it from him after we escaped from the goblins. In fact, I'm the one who kept it and it's the only reason I'm still alive now. Here, take it." I did so.
"Very well, you may go."
Wilim muttered something about thanks and shuffled away from us wearily. The six of us allowed Ancthas to lead us on a short distance further along the road which ran back west toward Barnavon. We only made it a little ways before calling a halt: none of us had eaten or slept for more than a day, and all of us were parched from the running. We spoke little while we rested our feet and that was when I decided to go through Padryc's backpack to see if I could find anything useful. I found his journal, perfectly intact, and thought it best if I were to record today's events, which have been singularly unpleasant from start to finish.
It is nearly dawn: we will move again very soon. One way or another I will find my friend.
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