Highday, 15th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Forsaken Inn, the Lone-lands
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| The Ford of Bruinen |
We followed the Great East Road as it swung southward to avoid the Midgewater Marshes and I had a chance to admire the view. The trees weren't so close here as they were in the Northern Chetwood, and there were all manner of creatures running about on their own business. No one paid us any mind, although once we reached the further edges of the Bree-land we began to see farms and houses that were boarded up and (seemingly) abandoned. This was the first overt sign we had witnessed of Butterbur's dark warnings from two days ago.
In spite of the urgency of our mission, we were taking things fairly easy. The miles rolled by us as the Sun climbed higher and I began to sweat a little. I removed my hat and proceeded to use it to fan myself as we walked. Thinking back, I remembered how I had been gifted that hat by one of the Thornley's sons months ago in the earliest days of our adventures. It was much the worse for wear (the feather had been lost some time ago, whether burned, blown, or stolen I cannot remember), but it was now quite dear to me if only because I had carried it with me so far. I also still had my travelling pack and even my little Shire-hammer, which was carefully stowed away for use as a tool if needed, but now my weapon of choice was the bright Elven dagger which hung at my belt. I thought with sadness about the beautiful shield Mallacai had given me in the Halls of Night and how it had been destroyed at the hand of Guloth, and that memory made me shudder.
Returning to the present, I saw the day was still bright and the birds were still singing all around me. I also noticed that Minasse and Gaelira had wandered on a little ways ahead while Drodie was tramping along a ways behind me, but Nephyn was quite close, as if she was deliberately trying to speak to me without being overheard by the others.
"Nice day," she said, and I noticed right away that she was using a quieter voice than our obvious isolation on the road would have demanded.
"Very," I agreed, then nodded to my left, where lay the marshes. "I doubt you'd be saying the same if we had to go that way, though the day remained as nice!"
"No doubt," she chuckled, then she pointed away to the right. I saw a deer lope away from us into a thicket. "I bet that doe would make a wonderful pet."
"Deer are too skittish to be tamed without a lot of effort," I said. "Really! Is there any life-form in Middle-earth that you are not determined to domesticate?"
"Worms," the huntress answered with a laugh. "I hate worms."
"Oh, right, I had forgotten that," I admitted. I laughed in my own turn, but I was waiting for Nephyn to broach whatever subject was clearly on her mind.
"Those two seem to be getting along well enough," she said with a nod ahead to the two Elves, who were deep in conversation.
Ah, now we're getting somewhere, I thought, but I merely grunted my agreement and let her drive on.
"Do you think I was wrong to demand Minasse reveal his reasons for accompanying us?" she asked. It was common for Nephyn to worry about such things.
"I don't think so," I said, lowering my own voice since we were now getting nearer to whatever my friend was really interested in discussing. "He seemed open enough about his reasons, although I admit a lot of it goes over my head. I can't imagine what it must be like to have a memory that stretches back thousands of years!"
"Nor I," said Nephyn, lowering her own voice even further, "Nor could I ever hope to understand harbouring such anger over so long a span! I clearly uncovered more than I had intended."
"You're right about that," I said, "I still don't think he minded -- I don't think he was angry at you, I should say -- but that one certainly carries a lot of anger with him."
"He reminds me of the tales of the Old Elves, the Elves of the Second Age," Nephyn said with a nod. "All of Eldar I've ever met have been much more tame by comparison."
"Well," I said after a thought, "Gaelira has her moments too, you know." I remembered back to the early days of our Company when the she-Elf had exhibited flashes of intensity on more than one occasion, and I always found them rather unsettling. By and large, though, Gaelira was a calm, quiet, and contemplative sort.
"I suppose that is so," Nephyn agreed, "I too have seen her passion flare, but Minasse is... something different. It is the difference between a warm hearth and a raging forge."
"Well put," I said as I eyed the High Elf from behind. "I wonder what use he sees in us? We are no army and four lone adventurers -- five if we ever manage to find poor Lagodir -- aren't about to set right all the wrongs he's laid out."
"I don't know," said Nephyn, "But I can't help thinking his is a book from which we have read only a few leaves."
It was just at that time Gaelira called us to a halt. We rested for a while off the road under the cover of some rowan trees and took lunch. Once the Sun had passed from her height we resumed our march and reached the Forsaken Inn by sundown.
None of us were in the mood to try the inn's legendary fare (though Nephyn did try, unsuccessfully, to trick Minasse into partaking), while it was clear the denizens of the tavern had no desire to hobnob with Elves and Dwarves. Minasse looked everything over with such disgust that I feared for a moment he might grab a torch and try to burn the whole place down, but we merely excused ourselves and set up camp outdoors. Personally, I was relieved at this because the smell of the interior brought back some rather unpleasant memories. The night sky was a wonder of starlight as we settled in around the fire with the two Elves keeping watch.
Sterday, 16th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Lone-lands
It was quite windy today. Our little campfire was snuffed out in the early morning by a great gust and it hasn't let up for long since; I only just saved my hat from blowing away so many times I eventually gave up trying to wear it and just carried it tucked under my arm the rest of the day.
The road itself was uneventful. We did spy Weathertop away to our north again, and I thought about the time Lagodir had suggested he and I might scale it together some day, but then I wondered if maybe we was already up there and the pale, merciless eyes of Guloth were peering down on us from on high. I kept glancing at the hilltop nervously and so often that Nephyn took notice and asked me if I was not feeling well. I forced myself to think about something else.
I had forgotten just how long and dull the journey through the Lone-lands can be. At the moment I am lying in my bedroll, doing my best to write in this journal while the wind keeps threatening to disperse my pages. I think I will stop writing for today: the last thing I want is to have to run around the Lone-lands chasing missing pages... I hate it when that happens.
Sunday, 17th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Lone-lands
More Lone-lands, more dullness. The Sun was very hot for this time of year and that, combined with the drudgery of marching through this boring land, put me in a rotten mood I was unable to shake all day. At least there was less wind.
Monday, 18th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Ost Guruth, the Lone-lands
We arrived at Ost Guruth late in day. The inhabitants were happy to see us, though they seemed frightened of Minasse, who glowered disapprovingly at them. I bought a few trinkets and old Arnorian relics off some of their traders, but it was only out of kindness and compassion for their indigent state. I suppose I might be able to get a little coin out of them if I can find a collector in some place like Bree, assuming we ever make it back there.
Gaelira says we are still a good four days out from the Ford of Bruinen and that we need to start seriously thinking about whether we intend to travel all the way to Rivendell or if we should turn south to try and find Luean instead. I still think making straight for Elrond makes the most sense and I believe Nephyn agrees with me -- we are in desperate need of advice and information.
Trewsday, 19th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Last Bridge, on the Borders of the Trollshaws
We departed Ost Guruth at first light. There was some discussion about our road as we walked, but I think most of us are still content to let the days pass without coming to any serious decision. The Last Bridge loomed up in front of us at twilight and we camped on the far side. Nephyn said she could make out marks in the earth on both sides of the stone bridge, but she was unable to say of what sort they were or how long ago they might have been made.
Hevensday, 20th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Trollshaws
Now we are well inside the Trollshaws. I never liked this place much, and even the prospect of finding old Mr. Bilbo's stone-trolls doesn't make me like it any better. It was cloudier today but still bright and warm. I'm sure I would enjoy walking among the trees more if I didn't feel like we're constantly being watched.
We halted just before the road passed through a rock-wall, turned north a little ways off the path, and set up camp. Gaelira and Nephyn insisted that we light no fire tonight though they wouldn't give their reason. Maybe it is the howling off all these wolves I'm hearing around us.
Mersday, 21st of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Trollshaws
We proceeded into the Bruinen Gorges after a very unsettling night. At some point a weather front must have come through because everything is overcast and looks likely to turn to rain, although we never did get a drop all day. I can't be certain, but I think I heard distant thunder once or twice.
Sometime around noon we came upon the faint track which leads away north to the ruins of Thorenhad where, you might remember, we first met the Sons of Elrond. There was some debate as to whether we ought not go there and seek what help we might in that place, but after a short examination of the path Nephyn confidently declared no one had passed that way for at least two or three days and all of the prints were leaving. It was eventually decided that our errand would be best served by reaching Rivendell as soon as possible, and there was still a long way left to go.
We covered another twenty miles or so by the time we finally stopped for the night. My feet are killing me from all of this travel and I'm getting very tired of eating the same foods over and over again. I keep thinking about the lucious tables of the Last Homely House, but then that sets me thinking about whether I'll have the heart to leave it again, too. So long as Lagodir is still out there I suppose I shall have to.
Highday, 22nd of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Ford of Bruinen, Somewhere in the Trollshaws
There was no doubt about the thunder this morning: it woke us up (those of us who require sleep, anyway) with a fury and soon after large raindrops began falling, but it did not become a downpour right away. We quickly packed up our things and resumed our march toward Rivendell.
About the first hour from noon we reached the Ford. Its waters were beginning to swell a bit from the rain, but we had no real difficulty in crossing (though I was obliged to ride Nephyn pig-a-back, as often happens when we are required to cross any body of water). But it was when we had reached the far side and begun our ascent into the High Moor that we received a remarkable surprise.
It was Elladan and Elrohir, the Sons of Elrond, at the head of a large company of Elves, and they were marching on the Ford of Bruinen! They hailed us asking if we would accompany them, and of course we did so. As we made our return to the Ford, the twins informed us of their errand.
"We are well met and in the very nick of time, friends," said Elrohir (at least I think it was Elrohir), "A force of the foul folk has come down from the Ettenmoors and threatens to cross the Bruinen!"
"From there they can only mean to assault Imladris itself," said Elladan (I believe), "And we cannot permit that to happen."
"Nor shall we," said Gaelira, "But tell me: where is the Lord Elrond? Is he not among you?"
"Our father was forced to lead another contingent of our household against the trolls of the Ettenmoors some days ago," they replied, "And he had not yet returned when we set out to counter this impending threat. But now we are assured of victory, for we have the might of Elladan's Outriders with us!" We all laughed, for the Sons of Elrond are remarkable warriors in their own right, but I was apprehensive because it finally dawned on me that we were marching straight into a full-fledged battle.
And such it was: once we reached the Ford, the forces of Rivendell took up positions with archers in the rear and other stout folk (including ourselves) in the middle, barring the way across. The thunder crashed and rain came pouring down. After another hour or two, we suddenly saw the movement of large shapes away to the north of the Ford on the far side of the river. We waited, and those shapes eventually took up positions on the opposite side of the Bruinen. Elladan and Elrohir strode into the midst of the Ford and raised their hands, palms outward, signalling the enemy force to halt. There was a rush of harsh laughter away on the other side, then a cruel voice boomed across the river:
"Out of my way, whelps! I, Ningrat, have come to lay your precious homeland to waste. Without your sire to protect it, Rivendell is as good as ours. This is your only chance to run, little ones."
"We will not flee before the likes of you," the brothers shouted in return. "Turn back now or not one of you will be spared."
"Ha!" the voice replied, "So be it, then: I shall set fire to the Valley of the Elves and, when your mongrel-father returns to weep over your corpses, I shall have him brought before me in chains!"
So began the Battle of the Ford of Bruinen, and it was long and wearying. Waves of orcs, goblins, and other foul creatures threw themselves against us while arrows whistled overhead. Our line held firm, but the enemy seemed endless as the waters ran dark with the blood of our adversaries. The Elves were excellent marksmen, and many orcs fell to their arrows ere they could even reach the battle, but our forces were slowly bending -- given enough time they would have to break.
And then, just as I thought we could not withstand another assault, Ningrat shouted aloud and there came several trolls. They crashed into the Ford spraying water everywhere and blinding us. Many fled before them, but Elladan, Elrohir, and the Outriders held their ground (I was back among the archers), withstanding fist and club from the beasts. I held my breath as my friends fought for their very lives, and then I saw Elladan signal the retreat. Rivendell was lost.
But suddenly there came from the north a high, piercing note! It was no orc-horn, and everyone, friend and foe alike, turned to look in bewilderment. The jeers and laughing from the far side of the river went silent. Lightning flashed, and then I saw them.
"Elrond!" I screamed in my joy, and I jumped and waved my arms as if I had gone mad. "It is Elrond! Elrond has returned!"
There he was, on the far side of the Bruinen, astride a gleaming white stallion. His armour and sword flashed as if they were wrought from the avenging fire of Heaven itself while the knights of his retinue strove to match his pace. But the Elf-lord outran them all, and he fell upon the host of villains set against us with a fury that drove all the black-hearted to flight and wailing. Those around me took up the cheer and pressed the attack. The trolls moaned in distress -- even their dull wits sensing that things were amiss -- before they took off in full rout, stampeding back through their own lines and crushing all in their path. Elrond himself took the head of Ningrat, then his cavalry crashed into the foe while his sons ordered a charge of their own, and our enemy was utterly destroyed.
With the battle won, our forces converged on the western shore of the river. There was much cheering and celebration, for the losses on our side were light, though many had suffered wounds of varying severity. I checked on my friends, of course, but they were all safe. Then, like a sorry spectator at some sporting event, I went looking eagerly for Elrond. I found him dismounted and speaking with his sons and Gaelira, and he smiled at me as I ran up to him.
"Elrond!" I said, heedless of decorum in my elation. "Thank goodness you turned up when you did! I thought all was lost there for a moment." The Master of Rivendell regarded me kindly.
"Welcome back to Rivendell, Master Pemberton," he said. "Gaelira has been telling me about your adventures and there is much to discuss. But first we must tend to the injured and dispatch those enemies which fled the field. Then you shall accompany us to Imladris, where we shall determine what is next to be required of you."
A wave of exhaustion struck me then, and all I could think of was sleep. The rain had finally relented and the storm was passing away to the east when I heard that everyone was to begin marching toward the High Moor. It took another two or three hours of traversing the rough terrain to finally reach the Gates of Rivendell. As I descended into that valley, the pungent scent of pine-needles smote me, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the cares and exertion of the past several weeks, as if my ability to remain awake and all worry was taken from me. I swooned into Nephyn's arms and finished my journey to Rivendell with a smile upon my sleeping face.
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