Sterday, 25th of Rethe, Year 1418 Shire-reckoning
The Refuge of Gath Forthnir, Somewhere in the Land of Angmar
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| The Mountains of Angmar |
It seems that gash I received on my arm happened to come from a Hillman's blade which was drenched in some foul poison. As luck would have it, the leeches and healers here in Gath Forthnir have encountered this venom before now -- and more than a few times, it would appear -- which makes me believe it is a tactic frequently utilized by the tribes of Men loyal to the Iron Crown. As such, they were well-equipped to counteract it, although the time which had elapsed since my wounding and returning here for treatment was greater than they would have liked. After applying their arts, however, I stabilized and was on my way to recovery except for a nasty fever which would not abate.
Nephyn says she and Lagodir kept close watch over me until, in the early morning hours, Gaelira and Drodie returned from their errand. You may recall that they had agreed the day before to help escort and protect a foraging party of the Rangers who were sent out to scrounge for supplies in the countryside. Well, their return was delayed by the appearance of a large patrol of Orcs and Hillmen which outnumbered them greatly, so they were forced to hide up in the hills for a while before attempting to return here. When they finally did get back, they immediately heard rumour of an injured Halfling and came running to find me.
I'm told I was still asleep at the time, but apparently Gaelira inspected me and declared that the healers of Gath Forthnir had done a capital job in administering their treatment, yet still the fever continued to rage. Nephyn says the Elf then gave me a tiny sip from a leathern flask drawn from her belt, which Gaelira told her to be miruvor -- some draught or liquor she brought with her from Rivendell (I'm afraid I can't tell you what it tastes or smells like since I was not conscious at the time). I'm told it was about then that I began to recover, and much more quickly than anyone had expected. In fact, it was only about six hours later (roughly eight o'clock this morning) that I was already up and about, eagerly hunting for my breakfast. Everyone seems amazed that I should have regained my health so rapidly, but I've always been a quick healer. Runs in the family, you might say.
I won't go into all the gushing, hugging, and hand-wringing that came when everyone learned I was going to be all right -- it's not important nor really proper, if you take my meaning -- and besides there were many critical things to discuss as we gathered around a table in the Rangers' mess-hall. We had been given standard rations from their larder, but I brought a few dainties from my pack as well -- war-camps aren't really known to stock the best provender, you know, meaning no disrespect to those as made the stuff -- and I was feeling more than a little peckish after my ordeal.
"First and foremost," I said after we had all settled down to eat and plan our day, "Just what the blazes is going on with all these shady characters that keep cropping up in our path? Skullyg, Wenhair, the priestess, Oakheart... it's all getting a mite confusing for my little hobbit-head. I should like the whole affair laid out in plain language so's to better understand what we're dealing with."
"You speak for me also," said Nephyn with a laugh. "We seem to be gathering quite the audience. Every lass fancies the idea of having a secret admirer or two, but things have gotten more than a bit bizarre ever since Sarnur."
"It is no laughing matter," said Gaelira. "I think I have begun to piece the mystery together, but I will leave it to Lagodir to explain the situation, for he has been closest to our adversaries and may have gleaned more than I from their actions and whisperings."
"I believe I have," said Lagodir after taking a pull from his flagon. "Here is what we have gotten ourselves into, if I can lay it all out as plain as possible to the best of my understanding. We know, of course, that the Dark Lord's chief agent in the North is this Mordirith character. No one really seems to know who or what he is, but he is clearly not the Witch-king, though he rules from the Witch-king's former seat of power and in his name. Whatever his kind is not terribly important to us at this time (though it may become so later). For now, what we need to know about Mordirith is that he represents Mordor, and it is his forces and slaves with which we have been chiefly contending. But there is a second faction of our enemies abroad: that of Guloth and his adherents, which includes Wenhair, her mother the Lossoth-witch, some shadowy priestess from Forochel, the goblin Skullyg, and probably others. His followers do not seem to be numerous in Eriador, but I suspect he was sent here to provide Mordirith with support in the areas of spying and espionage: a small force, but still quite dangerous."
"It sounds like they are all on the same side to me," I said. "Shouldn't we just lump them all together for the sake of clarity?"
"Assuredly not, Padryc," the Gondorian replied. "You do not understand the way these chattels of the Enemy think -- they promote themselves through ruthlessness and sheer power. Guloth has always desired greater standing with the Dark Lord, and I suspect he wanted nothing less than to depose Mordirith and take his place as the master of Carn Dum and Steward of Angmar."
"And these Lossoth servants of his were willing to help him do that?" asked Nephyn with raised eyebrows. "That doesn't make sense: even if they succeeded wouldn't they only incur the wrath of Sauron for disrupting his operations in the North?"
"No," said Lagodir as he emphatically shook his head. "You still do not see: even when pitted against each other, Sauron's thralls always maintain absolute loyalty to him, for he is their god-king. The Dark Lord cares not which of his slaves rise to supplant the other so long as his will is carried out."
"Seems like an awfully chaotic way to run a war," I laughed.
"So we used to scoff in Gondor," he answered grimly. "But, for all the confusion such power-struggles create, they also ensure that the most merciless and fanatical servants of the Enemy emerge as leaders of his hordes, and that then becomes the greater danger. For many years we trusted to your way of thinking, Padryc, until we learned (too late) that there is a sort of barbarous efficiency to it all. Furthermore, the rank-and-file soldiery respect power and strength above all else, so a usurper who succeeds in putting down a reigning commander solidifies his own leadership all the more. We have found in the South that the most effective counter-measure is to strike down these captains as soon as they appear, and the sooner the better: the longer you wait the more brutal the oppressor that will take the place of the previous one."
"But Guloth is destroyed," said Nephyn, who still sounded just as confused as I was. "And even the goblin said the witch, Wenhair's mother, if I'm keeping this all straight, now believes him gone beyond recall. Should we still be worried about these Lossoth at all?"
"Aside from them wanting to put a knife into our backs, you mean?" I asked. "After all, we're the ones who destroyed Guloth."
"Padryc is right but, even still, only partly right," said Lagodir. "You forget your history: certain tribes among the Lossoth fought on the side of Angmar when the Witch-king ruled it many centuries ago. But it was to the Witch-king that those people gave their loyalty -- not to this 'False King,' as they term Mordirith. They view the current Steward of Angmar as a fraud and a usurper, making them ripe for appropriation to Guloth's purposes. With the wraith banished, Wenhair and her mother would still wish to continue their struggle to depose the False King."
"And this is where Oakheart comes in?" asked Drodie through a mouthful of roasted pheasant. Lagodir nodded.
"Oakheart's 'faction,' if it can be called that, is the one that worries me most in all this, because we know almost nothing about her. Yet, we have heard that name come up more than once in our travels. Can any of us shed some light on the darkness which surrounds her?"
"I have never heard the name," said Nephyn with a shrug. "She has no connexion to the Bree-land or any of its strange folk-lore, but I cannot tell you more beyond that."
"All I know is Luean mentioned her in the letter he wrote to me all those weeks and weeks ago," I said as I frowned in concentration. "He said he was going off to investigate her re-emergence or something, whatever that means. He didn't provide any details, but it must have been pretty important for him to go and leave us the way he did. Now I wish more than ever he was here to tell us what he knows. I will have to read through his letter again and see if there is anything else to be learned there."
"To me the name is like the shadow of ghost in a dream," said Gaelira softly. "The name is significant, but I cannot recall why or from where, nor from what time. This has troubled me greatly ever since the name first crossed our path, and I have been meditating on it for many nights while we travelled. I even searched for hours in Elrond's library while we were in Rivendell. I found nothing, yet I know I have heard the name before meeting you all." She shook her head and her cheeks flushed red with frustration.
"I have no doubt it will come to you in time," said Lagodir. "But for now it serves our purpose to know that Oakheart is an adversary to be avoided, at least until we know more about her."
"Do we know she is an adversary?" Nephyn asked. "It seems to me we don't even know that much at present."
"No, we do," Lagodir countered. "Remember the words of Skullyg on the path to Gath Forthnir? He said the witch (that being Wenhair's mother) went with Oakheart to the tower with many doors. That can only be Barad Gularan, and anyone who would be admitted into that place is no friend to us. Even the goblin risked abandonment and starvation because he so feared to go there."
"I suppose this all makes sense, in a strange, twisted sort of way," I conceded. "So we now know that, in the wake of Guloth's passing, the Lossoth have allied themselves with Oakheart because they still wish to see Mordirith dethroned and apparently they think this Oakheart is capable of doing it. Now that sounds pretty scary to me -- enough to make me hope we never run into Oakheart! She must be one rough character."
"No doubt of that," said Lagodir. "What I wonder at is Oakheart's designs: does she intend to make herself the Lord of Carn Dum or is she contemplating some other plot? I would think the Lossoth would support her no sooner than they would support Mordirith, for their blood-oaths were sworn to the Witch-king himself, but perhaps Oakheart has promised to facilitate his return or... who knows? It is always difficult with these evil folk to know when they are truly working together and when they are lying in order to take advantage of each other."
"Well, for the moment we know enough to continue," said Drodie as he unleashed another of his gigantic burps. "We know every one of these rabble deserves to get the same treatment you gave that goblin. That was just the sort of fine work we need more of, if you ask me -- straightforward and simple; none of this mucking about with power-politics and the rest of it."
"I wouldn't mind a little straightforwardness myself," said Lagodir with a grin, "But it is still useful to understand one's enemies, for then one is better prepared to counter them when the time comes."
"Speaking of time," I said as I munched a deliciously tart apple, "What's the plan for today? Nephyn, Lagodir, and I think we may have found a way into the city, but we didn't get a chance to explore it properly. Ought we to make another go of it?"
"I think that would be best," said Gaelira thoughtfully. "I knew the approach to Carn Dum would be perilous, but already we have spent more time here than I would have liked. The encounters we have had outside Barad Gularan and with Skullyg on the very doorstep of Gath Forthnir concern me greatly; I fear the longer we remain in one place the more our danger increases, and that of these Rangers as well."
A short time later the other four had collected themselves while depositing me back at the infirmary. Despite my protestations, they refused to allow me to accompany them while they continued to scout the outskirts of the Enemy's fortress, insisting I was not fully recovered from my ordeal and could do with at least one more day of rest. I pouted a good deal, but I also found myself in need of sleep only a short time after they had gone, so I suppose they were right after all. I napped a few times during the day and amused myself by writing in this journal (it was at this time I also discovered my copy of Nephyn's personal story had disappeared -- I shall have to address that another time) and bothering the Rangers I encountered as they tried to go about their business. I also did fish out Luean's old, crumpled letter to me and scoured it for any useful information about Oakheart, but I found nothing. It was a long and rather dull day, so as soon as I heard rumour that my friends had returned I raced to the entranceway to greet them.
Their reports were not encouraging. It seems the Enemy was alerted to our presence, for the guard had been increased all along the frontier. Passage anywhere near the city proved impossible and my friends were forced to conceal themselves and flee from armed confrontation multiple times before safely returning to camp. Lagodir and Nephyn were insistent that time would have to pass for the soldiers to relax their guard while Gaelira became frustrated at the delay and Drodie just wanted to pound something. Everyone became factioned by their own preferred courses of action, and dinner was not the jovial reunion I had been waiting to enjoy all day long.
I am sitting here in my bed writing by the light of a dim oil-lamp as we prepare for sleep. It sounds to me as if tomorrow is going to be much the same that today was, although I hope we meet with better results. Personally, I agree with Nephyn and Lagodir that we should try to learn anything we can about the outlay of Carn Dum and how to best approach it: it wouldn't do to stumble blindly into a war-camp or, worse, an ambush (again!). At the same time, I feel Gaelira's concern too: somehow I sense that our time here is limited, and every day an evil is drawing nearer to this place.
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