Sterday, 6th of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Enedwaith
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| The caverns of Lhe Colvarn |
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.
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