Hevensday, 22nd of Rethe, Year 1418 Shire-reckoning
The Refuge of Gath Forthnir, Somewhere in the Land of Angmar
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| The Fortress of Barad Gularan |
"Drodie," I croaked in a sleepy voice, "Must you start with that racket so early in the morning? Some of us would prefer to not begin the day until the Day has begun itself, if you take my meaning." There was some muffled snickering from nearby and a whoosh of flame as Drodie's campfire caught fuel and came to life. I popped open one eyeball to see the rest of the Company along with Maerchiniath, leader of the Rangers of Gath Forthnir, gathered around me and smiling in the warm glow of the flames.
"I do take your meaning," came Drodie's answer, "Although I should think it rather difficult for anyone to know whether the day has begun or not, considering where we are."
I sat myself up and blinked. We had travelled through so many strange places of late I confess I had forgotten that we were -- for the moment, anyway -- deep inside a dark, winding network of tunnels and caverns called Gath Forthnir. It was the headquarters of the largest remnant of an army of Dunedain Rangers and other resistance fighters who opposed the tyranny of Carn Dum, and in here it was always night. I tried rubbing the crust from my eyes, but I was feeling particularly lethargic today.
"Oof -- judging from the pain in my back I do believe I slept the entire night perched on a most inconsiderate rock," I said as I massaged my stiff muscles. "If you lot are always so keen to be up before the Sun, why is it I never wake to a proper breakfast?" I was chiding in jest (mostly), and immediately began hunting through my pack in search of something eat. I shoved the first thing I came up with into my mouth, then grimaced when I discovered the thing I was chewing was cram. Looking up, I suddenly noticed everyone was staring at me with great interest. I paused.
"Wha?" I asked through a mouthful of biscuit. Maerchiniath grinned for a fleeting moment, then turned to Gaelira.
"I take my leave of you for now," he said as he started off down the tunnel. "Thank you again for your assistance; you know where to find me upon your return." I cocked my head at this cryptic farewell, then eyed my companions suspiciously.
"What assistance did he mean?" I asked, my mouth still full of cram. "And return from where? Or what? What is going on here?" My queries were met with grave faces.
"Master Padryc," said Nephyn, breaking a short but very awkward silence. "We are concerned for you -- Angmar is a place of no small amount of danger. I wonder whether you ought to come with us into this land of unknown horrors." I was so stunned my mouth fell open (and a sizable hunk of cram fell out of my mouth).
"This is no casual matter," Lagodir joined in. "You have heard of my own experiences in the Tower of the Black Wraiths, far to the south. Carn Dum may well be as like to a sister-city that place could possibly have, and I would never want to lead another living soul into similar circumstances."
"Well, you're certainly not leaving me here, if that's what you're getting at!" I objected. "The very idea! I didn't travel all this way just to watch my friends trapse off into danger without me."
"I don't know," mulled Gaelira, her hand on her chin. "Maerchiniath spoke harshly yet truly when he said he was pleased to host four hearty warriors here in Gath Forthnir."
"Why -- of all the nerve!" I huffed, deeply offended. "I'll have words with that sour-faced simpleton later, but I really did expect better coming from my friends, with whom I've shared in so many trials. If you think I'm staying in this dank hole while you four charge out there to brave the greatest dangers we've faced yet without me, then you'd best plan on chaining me up here first, for otherwise I shall follow this Company wherever it goes." Everyone's demeanor seemed to relax a bit at that point, though no one moved. Gaelira and Nephyn's expressions changed to something akin to admiration while I think I saw pity in Lagodir's eyes. The bearded lips of Drodie, however, curled into a mischievous smirk.
"We could always stuff him into Nephyn's backpack," he said.
"And we could always toss you pig-a-back onto Gaelira's shoulders so you could actually hit something above the waist with that axe of yours, Master Dwarf," I shot back acidly. Drodie's grin quickly vanished. "What's all this about anyway? We've made it this far, haven't we?"
"Carn Dum is nothing less than the seat of the Dark Lord's power in the North of Middle-earth," Gaelira replied. "Our greatest challenges lie less than a day's march from where we now stand, and I suspect each of us will be tested in ways we cannot possibly imagine. Even I feel here a deathly chill on the air, though the frigid snows of the Misty Mountains fazed me not at all." I saw the Elf shiver slightly and look around her.
"Be that as it may," I said, "You'll have me along, willing or no." I planted my feet well apart and obstinately crossed my arms. Nephyn smiled.
"Even if you had the opportunity to remain here, in these most hospitable caverns?" she asked playfully.
"They smell funny," I countered. "No doubt from all the Dwarves frequenting the place." I couldn't resist the opportunity to launch another insult at Drodie, but the Dwarf only grunted his disapproval.
"If that is your will, then we shall honour it," Gaelira said. I nodded curtly, clearly signaling the issue was closed to further discussion. I shouldered my pack and returned to eating my cram, though my appetite was quite subdued after that discussion.
"And now we should be about our task," the Elf continued. Everyone began to move out, and I noticed for the first time that the others had been geared to march this entire time. I trotted along behind them as we made our way toward the entrance of the Gath Forthnir caverns.
"What task is that?" I queried. "Would it be the 'assistance' Maerchiniath mentioned?"
"The same," answered Gaelira as we passed through the cave opening. "And it shall be no small feat."
We emerged once more into the ever-howling winds outside. The door of the Rangers' bivouac was well up the side of a mountain, and from that vantage point the blasted plains and craggy hills of Angmar unfurled themselves before us. Dark clouds raced overhead, and there was a deep gloom on the land.
"Mercy!" I exclaimed as I just managed to save my hat from being whisked off by the gale. "There must be one mighty storm brewing -- I don't recall it ever being so dark at this time of the morning; not even in this forsaken place."
"But it isn't morning, Padryc," said Lagodir from behind me. I looked up in surprise.
"Well, bless me!" I cried. "That's the Moon just there, isn't it? Though he's hard enough to spot through all the murk. You mean to tell me I slept straight through the entire day -- all the way through to evening?"
"I'm afraid it's true," said Nephyn in a very motherly tone (which I actually found quite endearing). "The others wanted to wake you, but I forbade them. We have all been through a lot, but perhaps you most of all, in your own way. I reasoned you might need the additional rest." I found myself speechless for a brief instant.
"Hum, this certainly puts our earlier discussion into some... perspective," I humbly admitted as we began our descent from Gath Forthnir. "I suppose I owe you all an apology."
"None is needed," said Gaelira, although I thought I heard Drodie sigh quietly at this. "The only thing we should be concerned with now is our duty to Maerchiniath and his people." I pricked up my ears.
"The Ranger-captain has asked us to scout the forces of Angmar at a place called Barad Gularan," explained Lagodir. "That is a sizable fortress which lies south and east of our current position. It is comprised of a central keep that is defended by multiple fortifications which surround it on all sides, much like the spokes of a waggon-wheel. Our task is to determine the numbers and kinds of soldiery the Enemy has stationed there, their general purpose, and whether they are an immediate threat to Gath Forthnir. We all reasoned it would be best to attempt this under cover of night, but Maerchiniath warned us with all urgency not to attempt to enter the central tower, even if the opportunity should happen to present itself."
"He'll get no argument from me," I said. By now we had reached the large pool of still water which lay at the base of the climb up to the Rangers' encampment, and we began to work our way around the edges. "But Maerchiniath strikes me as the sort of chap who isn't one to be casually frightened by rumours and hearsay. What lies within that tower which has him shaken so?"
"No one knows for certain," Gaelira replied. "But the lore among the Dunedain has long been that Barad Gularan was raised by the Witch-king when he first arose in Angmar, many centuries ago. It was said that the High Nazgul, swollen with pride at his newfound might and the destruction of the Dunedain Kingdom of Arnor, sought to free himself from Sauron's dominion and become a Power in his own right. Barad Gularan is supposed to be the sanctum where he plumbed the depths of dark sorceries to achieve this end, but of course it was all vanity. The Witch-king remained nothing more than a thrall to the Lord of his Ring, and his triumph was short-lived, for he was swept him from Fornost in the very same year in which he had set up his throne there, in mockery of those he had conquered. This would have been the Year 1974, as you all would reckon it, I believe."
"Our tales in Gondor still tell of how then-Prince Earnur won his crushing victory on the bloody Fields of Fornost," said Lagodir. "It is said that his fleet filled all the Harlond, Forlond, and even the Grey Havens so that all the peoples of the North were amazed at the might of Gondor."
"I remember well King Earnil's armada which was under the command of his impetuous son," said Gaelira sadly. "And the lore in your country does not exaggerate its size overmuch, Lagodir: I can still see in my mind's eye the brave banners of those ships which reached from the edge of sight, north to south, in unbroken line as they fluttered gallantly in the Sea-breeze. Yet the victory went not only to Men, for many Elves fought alongside them. Even the Halflings of the Shire were represented by a contingent of loyal archers, friend Padryc, though I doubt many besides myself still remember it. The Lord Glorfindel it was who rode beside Prince Earnur as they broke suddenly upon the Angmarim in their retreat from Fornost, and the Witch-king soon vanished from the North. He was forced to abandon Barad Gularan, but that tower still stands and is rumoured to be a place of great evil. Who can say what manner of perversities the mightiest of the Ringwraiths may have called upon in his attempt to break free of his Master's will?"
"Aye, and so our mission is concerned only with the forces reported to be gathering outside at the tower's base, and not within the tower itself," agreed Lagodir. "And I, for one, am grateful for that fact. It is my counsel we would do well to heed Maerchiniath's warnings."
We had reached the far side of the lake and marched on in silence. The path we followed retraced our steps from the day before, but soon we turned more toward the east. It was not long before we could discern the tall and pointed spire of a distant tower even in the gloom of night, cruel and threatening against the overcast night sky.
I will not overburden you with the details of our work that night, Dear Reader, but there was one peculiar event which bears mentioning. As Lagodir had told us earlier, the central keep was surrounded by smaller camps on all sides. These we examined as closely as we could without being detected, and we were quite disturbed by what we saw. Barad Gularan was ringed about with many campfires -- large enough for a small army -- and all manner of disreputable sorts were to be found there. There were Orcs and goblins, of course, but we also spied many Hillmen, dark-robed Angmarim, trolls, and even some Dourhand Dwarves. We decided to try and get a closer look in hopes that we might catch a glimpse of whatever captains were in command there.
From a distance, we identified a section of the camp which appeared to be very sparsely populated but which looked like it would afford us a sort of avenue toward the centre of the gathering. Upon creeping closer, we found ourselves amidst several crude tent-like structures made of poles and hides which we used to keep ourselves hidden from view. Eventually, we noticed a tall, robed figure some distance off which appeared to be giving orders to many others. Gaelira squinted hard for a full two minutes before turning back to us.
"A cargul," she whispered. "A lesser wraith in the service of Carn Dum. This has all the markings of a great alliance with Angmar it its head. War is coming to the North -- we should return to Maerchiniath at once and tell him what we have learned here." We all nodded and prepared to move out -- and then we heard the most incredible thing.
It was a heart-wrenching sigh, like the trembling murmur of an injured dove. We all turned to see the last thing any of us expected to find there: it was a Woman, her hands bound to one of the tent-poles. Her clothes were rent and tattered while her hair straggled over her face. From the look of her posture, she appeared to be near the end of her strength. She raised her head weakly toward us.
"Please," came a thin, wispy voice, "Help me... the Orcs will be back any moment."
Without a word I unsheathed my dagger and cut her bonds. The others moved to help her up, but the Woman seemed greatly enheartened by our rescue: she immediately began to run westward, away from the camp, while beckoning wildly for us to follow her. We chased after her as fast as we could, but the Woman's fear of the tower seemed to grant her extraordinary speed, or perhaps it was the fact that we were laden with gear while she had nothing on her except some thread-bare rags. Whatever the reason, we simply could not catch her up. The path we were following had a high ridge to the left while a slope fell away to our right. Then the Woman turned left, to the south, vanishing behind the ridgeline. We swung around the bend in pursuit.
"Look out!" shouted Drodie. There was a rushing sound to our left, coming from higher up the ridge. I looked and saw several dark shapes charging down at us from the rocks above! I instinctively shrank behind Drodie as he raised his shield. There was a heavy crash as the enemy plowed into our line, and both of us were bowled over. I hit the ground hard as the sturdy Dwarf fell on top of me.
Drodie had rolled away and was fighting, axe in hand, a split second later. I needed rather more time to catch my breath -- if you've never had a fully armoured Dwarf land on top of you, I can only say that it's a very uncomfortable experience -- but luckily no one seemed to notice me as I wretched in the dirt for a few moments. During those moments, I became aware that our assailants consisted of half a dozen goblins led by a pale-robed Man of Angmar. Gaelira was fending off two of them with her sword and staff while Nepyh and Lagodir had engaged two more with their swords. Drodie had picked up the remaining pair, while the Man turned to me. He was armed with a strange staff and a cruel, serrated blade, but it was his eyes which alarmed me the most. They were raging with absolute hatred such that his entire face seemed twisted into a hideous mask of furour and lunacy. So repulsed was I by that visage I very nearly didn't notice him raising his sword to strike at me, but at the last moment I reflexively dodged to one side.
My little Elven-dagger was still in my hand, but I suddenly remembered my shield. Drodie had helped me practice unlimbering it many times since it was gifted to me by Mallacai back in the Halls of Night, and so I was able to ready it in less than two seconds. I faced my attacker defiantly, though he was easily more than twice my own height. His curled lips slavered (not unlike an Orc, I remember thinking later) as he swung his sword a second time. It clanged off my shield and, though I had to deftly shift my weight in order to absorb the shock of the blow and not lose my balance, I remained unharmed. The Man snarled like a Warg and swung twice more. Twice more his attacks glanced off my shield and I kept my feet. The Angmarim glared viciously at my stubborn refusal to die and prepared to swing again. I shut my eyes and braced myself, praying the force of his next blow would not knock me clean off my feet, for then I would be at his mercy.
"KHAZAD! KHAZAD AI-MENU!"
I opened my eyes to see Drodie charging at the Man from my right. The goblins lay dead or dying at the feet of my companions, who were beginning to come to my rescue. The Man of Angmar quickly turned to face this new threat: his blade flashed, and Drodie deftly parried the blow with his axe, but then the Man's staff swung in a wide arc from the opposite side. There was a sickening crack, and the Dwarf spun around before collapsing in a heap. At that moment I wanted more than anything to rush to Drodie's side and help him, but somewhere deep inside I knew the threat must be eliminated first. I don't even remember thinking about what to do next -- I simply charged at the Man and thrust my dagger deep into his thigh.
The Angmarim screamed in pain and swung his sword-arm at me, but I was so close to his body that only the area above his elbow caught me. I was knocked away like a pesky fly, but my sting had found its mark: the Man stumbled, then drew himself up to strike again, and this time for the kill. But even as he raised his weapon there was a twang, and the barbed head of an Elf-arrow sprang from his heart: Nephyn had shot him from behind. Time halted. The Man managed a guttural snarl, then fell toward me as he tried to land one last blow. I threw myself at his feet, and he tumbled past me off the path and down into the crags below. The battle was over.
But at what cost? I instantly picked myself up and ran to Drodie, where the others had already gathered. I could see a small stream of blood trickling down the Dwarf's temple and into his beard. I fought to hold back my tears.
"He will be alright," Gaelira said as she examined our fallen comrade. "The blow was cruelly placed: it has darkened his eyes and also driven this point of the helm into the flesh of his head, from whence comes the bleeding. He should recover, but I cannot say how low it will be before he finds his senses again."
"And yet time is not our ally," said Lagodir worriedly. "The noise of our battle is sure to draw more adversaries. We must remove ourselves from this place at once! And where is that Woman gone to?"
There was no sign of her. I looked around wildly, but it was as though she had vanished from the face of the earth.
"I see lit torches advancing on the path," called Nephyn. She had crept back to the bend in the road to spy on the approach from Barad Gularan. "We have only moments before they are upon us."
"Come, let us carry him," said Gaelira. With a strength that amazed me, she hefted the thick Dwarf in her arms, though she still needed Lagodir's help to move him.
"But where?" I asked in desperation. There was a high ridge on one side of us and a chasm on the other. The path back to the tower was crawling with foes and we could not hope to outrun them on the road, burdened as we were with Drodie.
"Down into the gorge," said Gaelira, already moving that direction. "It is our best hope. Quickly now!"
For the briefest of moments we tried to climb down, but it was taking too much time. Without speaking a word, we all sat down and cast ourselves off the side of the path. We slid a good distance, and the sharp gravel cut our feet, legs, and knees mercilessly, but it turned out we had made the right decision. In reality the depth of that gully was not nearly as great as imagination made it out to be in the dark gloom of Angmar by night. I finally came to rest against something soft and warm. I stifled a cry when I suddenly realized I had fallen right into the corpse of the Angmarim we had just dispatched moments earlier. He was quite dead, of course, and so we had nothing more to fear from him, but the evil soldiers now patrolling the path above us were another matter. There were still the telltale bodies of six slain goblins littering the road, and it would only be a matter of time before they found a way down to where we were hiding.
In order to be understood without having to speak, Gaelira instructed through signs that we should place Drodie onto Lagodir's back then attempt to flee northward. This we did, though our going was painfully slow. Even as hardy a Man as Lagodir was soon gasping for breath and sweating profusely at the intense weight of a fully armoured Dwarf on his back.
"They say Dwarves make light of burdens," the Gondorian said between great gulps of air, "But themselves, light burdens they make not! Were every recruit in the fiefdoms of Minas Tirith to be strapped with such a load during their training, our armies would be much the better for it!" He spoke in jest, but I could see his strength was swiftly ebbing.
Finally, he sank to one knee and we knew we must rest, no matter the danger. It was very dark, for it was fully night and the campfires of Barad Gularan were the only source of light, but we managed to find a comfortable enough nook under a nearby boulder. We carefully set Drodie down, then I helped Gaelira to remove his helm and begin tending the wound. It was not deep, but head-wounds do tend to bleed a great deal (as I'm sure you know), and so I was forced to use a considerable amount of our drinking-water to clean the blood from his head, face, and body. I wrapped Drodie's crown in soft cloths and we placed the damaged helm into Lagodir's pack in the hopes someone at Gath Forthnir might have the skill and the tools to repair it.
We began to wonder how much farther it was before we reached the wide pool and the stairs which led to the Ranger-camp. The winds of Angmar had returned and were blowing bits of debris and gravel everywhere, so it was difficult to see far and impossible to hear whether we were being pursued. At one point we did hear the mournful howl of Wargs in the distance. Nephyn chuckled grimly.
"If they think to track us using Wargs," she said, "They should prepare themselves to be disappointed. Not even their snuffling noses could find us with naught but stone for the prey to leave trace upon."
"True," agreed Gaelira as she peered intently into the darkness. "But they have the advantage of knowing this land and its hiding-places. It would be best if we were to move on as soon as we can."
It was at just that moment that Drodie awoke. He suddenly leapt up from where he was lying as if he had been discharged from a pop-gun and kept demanding to know whether I was alright. Once we had finally calmed him down we gathered that he could remember nothing from the point where he had been rushing to my defence, and so we had to fill him in on everything that had happened since then. He quickly sat down and declared he had a most incredible headache, but it was only a short time before we managed to collect ourselves and finish the journey back to Gath Forthnir, which we were fortunate enough to complete without further incident.
We are back there now, even as I write this account of today's adventure. We tended to our hurts and Drodie especially was given every attention and care he could want, although he was more interested in getting his helm repaired (which it was). We five then spent the wee-hours of the morning relating our tale to Maerchiniath and his Rangers over an excellent meal in their mess-hall. I somehow became the unofficial spokes-hobbit for the Company, as the demands for me to recount our scouting expedition and battles with the Enemy kept coming from all corners. There was a particular fondness for how Drodie fell on top of me just as the fight was beginning, a detail which I, personally, did not remember with much fondness.
Oh, and Drodie is going to be fine: his wound healed perfectly and he treated his headache using the standard Dwarf-cure for such things -- liberal doses of beer. He loudly proclaimed that, if the Enemy's minions were going to try and make an end of him, that they had better target some other part of his body besides his impervious head. This gave everyone in Gath Forthnir a good laugh, myself not least among them. Even Maerchiniath was in better spirits after hearing of our exploits, though he was very troubled indeed when we told him of the great array of soldiery gathered outside of Barad Gularan.
"I fear you have the right of it, Gaelira," the grim-faced Ranger said quietly while his Men enjoyed themselves. "There can be no doubt that the Steward of Angmar is amassing his strength here in preparation for War in the North, and we see now that there is no shortage of thralls throughout Eriador willing to swell his ranks. What hope can there be for Free Folk in these times?"
"Only this," I said, "That Weeds need naught to thrive but lack of a gardner. At least, that's what we say in my country. Maybe it's a bit rustic for this sort of dark work in distant lands where there ain't no gardners, nor no gardens neither, from what I can see, but I reckon the sentiment is still worth remembering."
"That is well-spoken," said Maerchiniath. "I shall endeavor to remember your advice! I am glad indeed to have you here among us."
"Oh! That reminds me," I said a little uncomfortably, but determined to have my say. "What's this I hear about there being only four warriors in this Company of ours? Anyone hearing such talk might think I wasn't welcome in Gath Forthnir."
"He would be wrong indeed who thought that," answered Maerchiniath with an amused look in his eye. "Though I'll not deny the words were mine, for I meant no harm or disrespect by them. I do beg your pardon as I had no intention of offending. Have you seen many more battles then, Master Halfling?"
"Er, well, I never actually claimed to be no warrior," I stumbled, suddenly feeling as though I had talked myself into a corner I was never meant to be in. "That is, I suppose you could say I've seen a decent number of battles, but mostly from a distance. More often than not I was trying to find my way out of them, you know."
"The same could be said of all warriors," said Maerchiniath with a pointedness I found noteworthy. "In one fashion or another." I became aware that my friends were eagerly awaiting my response to this, and I began to hate myself for broaching the subject at all.
"I see your point," I said. "So I guess that makes me a warrior also?"
"Do you wish to be known as one?"
"I'm not in the habit of claiming to be something I'm not," I answered.
"Shall I call you a gardner, then?" he asked me. I thought for a moment.
"Yes, I'd prefer that," I said.
"Well then, Gardner Padryc," said Maerchniniath with a broad grin, "Welcome to our garden. I look forward to uprooting many weeds together, with your help. I trust you will forgive my earlier words and please be assured you are most welcome, for anyone who resists the advance of the Shadows of Angmar is welcome in Gath Forthnir, be they warrior -- or gardner."
I thought his words fair and true, so we considered the matter settled at that point. Our Company were all quiet tired (except, I suppose for Gaelira), and so rest was once again in order. There was some sporadic discussion as to what we might attempt on the morrow, but on that subject I'm not sure anyone has any clear idea. The only thing which seems certain is that, sooner or later, we would have to turn west, toward Carn Dum.
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