Trewsday, 9th of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Lhan Rhos, Somewhere in the Dunbog
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| One of the Abominations of Lhan Colvarn |
The day was bound to be unpleasant enough without contemplating all the various spooks and ruffians who had been dogging us throughout the length Dunland, for today would bring us into the Dunbog -- the fetid swamp which lay in the extreme south-western corner of that region. According to Ancthas, our chance Dunlending companion and current guide, Edgerin could be found somewhere within it, so we had no choice but to enter. Moreover, in return for saving us from Bedwur's ambush in Avardin yesterday, we had pledged our aid in support of him and his people who were fighting some scourge he called "the abominations." These fearsome-sounding foes had overrun the last remaining village of his people, and thus we were honour-bound to follow him in any case. Breakfast was brief and cheerless, for Ancthas insisted we had a full day's journey ahead.
"My kinfolk still hold the abominations within the walls and the immediate area around Lhan Colvarn," he told us, "And so we should meet no enemies on our way to Lhan Rhos. At least, that is my hope: things may have changed since I came north to Avardin three days ago, for our cause is very desperate. Yet, even without opposition, we cannot hope to reach the village before sundown tonight; the way through the Dunbog is shifting and treacherous. You would do well to follow me closely."
And so we did. Caution was definitely needed if we were going to have any hope of staying dry above the waist. The pools and mires of the swamp made it impossible to find anything resembling a straight road, which forced Ancthas to lead us on a winding route so as to remain on the little (mostly) dry land we could identify. More than a few times we were obliged to wade through mucky areas in order to keep going, and these were the most unpleasant times. At first I was repulsed by the activity, but after a while it become too frequent to waste energy bothering about it.
The passage of the swamp was long, dull, dreary, and uneventful. I took to examining our surroundings as we laboured on. My only real experience with swamps had been the Rushock Bog, which sits in the north-western regions of the Shire, roughly right in the middle of the land between Michel Delving, Hobbiton, and Needlehole. It sits in a natural valley there, into which the rains easily run off, and that is part of the reason the farmlands of the Shire are so well-suited to growing all manner of crops. I never had much cause to venture there except when on patrol as a Bounder: Needlehole is not an insignificant village despite its somewhat removed location (relative to the rest of the Shire), and the only way to reach it is through the Rushock. But even that road is fairly well-built and maintained by the Bounders, nor is it anywhere nearly as dismal as the place in which my companions and I found ourselves today. For one thing, there were no trees anywhere in sight. The Rushock Bog is a watery and oozy sort of place, but even there you will find plenty of stunted or moss-grown trees, and there is an overall greeness to it. Here, everything was a hazy and depressing brown or a sort of sickly, pale-mustard yellow, as if the air itself was filthy and continually blanketing everything in a thick, nasty grime that robbed even the plantlife of any discernable colour. We did not encounter much in the way of fauna either, though we heard plenty of it. There were little birds of the piping and scampering sort fluttering and twittering in the reeds (which were many and quite large). I saw more than a few sizable toads along the way as well as a goodly number of ugly looking bog-slugs. Numerous were the clouds of flies and other insects that congregated in massive groups here and there, but for whatever reason none of them seemed to be of the biting sort, for which I was very grateful. Our discomfort was still guaranteed, however, by the heat of the season: despite the murk hanging over the land, the summer Sun was steaming the waters of the fens which had us all drenched with sweat while we struggled on through the stagnant, sweltering pools.
Night had already come by the time we finally reached Lhan Rhos; we could see the glow of several fires and many torches as we approached. Ancthas explained to us the town was built mostly on wooden piers which ran from one parcel of solid land to another, and it was upon these that his people built their primitive huts. We found his description to be quite accurate once we arrived, and I also noted the place was a more populous village than I had expected to find there in the middle of a swamp. Ancthas assured me, however, that what I saw was only a tithe of his kin as most of them had been lost, first to the invading Orcs and then to the mysterious plague which had followed swiftly after.
Our arrival was greeted at first with suspicion and dismay, but then the people saw we traveled with Ancthas, and that seemed to allay their concerns. We were quickly introduced to the village elders, who appeared to welcome us once it was explained that we intended to assist them in their battle against the abominations which occupied Lhan Colvarn. I'm afraid I can't provide much in the way of dialogue for you, Dear Reader, because almost all of the proceedings were done in the natives' tongue. Besides, I was so tired from the day's exertions that I kept nearly falling asleep while standing there, trying to pay attention to everything being said. I have no doubt I would have collapsed and slept soundly in a wink had it not been for Nephyn, who kept one hand on my shoulder and shook me firmly every time I started to nod.
Once all of the niceties had been fulfilled, we were led away to wash. I wondered how in the world we were supposed to get ourselves clean when we were standing in the middle of a bog, and then I began to puzzle over just what it was these people used for drinking. Surely they didn't dip their mugs and vessels directly into the swamp? But it turned out they drew their water from wells which were dug deep into the earth, and the supply which came from them was about as clean as one might expect to find in more civilised places.
After we washed, we were led back to the elders where we joined them for a meal, which served to keep me awake a little longer. I wouldn't call it a feast and neither did they (so far as I could tell), but it was hot and well-made, and it was certainly better fare than I had become accustomed to on the open road. Many words were spoken, most of which concerned us, our purpose in their land, and the ongoing skirmishes with the abominations to the north-west. When it was mentioned that we were trying to find Edgerin, the elders became silent and seemed to regard us with a new sense of respect, which I found very curious. After the meal was over and we had been shown to the area of the village where we were obviously expected to spend the night, I asked Ancthas what it was about Edgerin's name that appeared to command such reverence among the Dunlendings.
"Edgerin is not a Dunlending himself -- he is a duvadiad, like you," the Man replied. "We do not know from what country he hails, but he is favoured by the Huntsman."
"The Huntsman?" asked Nephyn. "Who is he?" I saw Lagodir shake his head mockingly out of the corner of my eye, but no one else seemed to notice and I decided to say nothing about it.
"The Huntsman is worshiped by all the clans," Ancthas said. "He commands the gwirod, and is the Guardian of our folk, both those here today and those gone before. Few alive now still remember when Edgerin first came to Dunland, but ever since then he has been traveling to the far corners of this country aiding all the tribes with whatever struggles afflict them: war, pestilence, famine, or drought. He has aided us in so many ways -- from finding clean water to preserving meats to the best way to water our crops and aid in the harvest -- that all hold him blessed by the Huntsman. That you know him speaks well of you. I myself have been something of a student of Edgerin's for about a year now, and I can say with certainty that he is a very unique Man who wishes our people well, which is itself more than be said of most other folk."
"And you say he is near here?" Gaelira asked him.
"He is -- very," Ancthas replied. "He used to spend a good deal of his time away in the Gravenwood, but ever since the abominations appeared in Lhan Colvarn he has been here in the Dunbog helping us deal with them. Tomorrow we shall go and see that danger against which all of us, including Edgerin, currently labour. So shall you fulfill your promise to me. Once that is done, I will keep my word and lead you to him."
"So be it," said Minasse. "The manner in which you continually describe these 'abominations' tickles my curiosity -- I will be surprised, however, if they are truly as fearsome as you make them out to be, but I rather hope they are. It would be a pleasant surprise for me to see something new under this Sun." I was afraid Ancthas might take offense at the High Elf's dismissive attitude toward that which the Dunleding obviously considered to be a dire threat, but the Man only nodded his head slightly and took his leave.
Our Company quickly settled down for the night, much to my relief. Despite my tiredness, however, I found myself unable to go to sleep straightaway: I kept pondering just what manner of terror awaited us in Lhan Colvarn tomorrow, and that caused me to have very unpleasant dreams.
Hevensday, 10th of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Near Lhan Colvarn, Somewhere in the Dunbog
We were all up at the crack of dawn. I vaguely felt somewhere within myself that I really could do with a few more hours' rest, but at the same time my nerves were so on-edge at the prospect of seeing Lhan Colvarn that I was wide awake. The rest of my companions were equally alert and stoic -- it was as if we all knew instinctively that today would be a fateful day.
The elders (along with most of the village, as it happened) had turned out to see us off. Some words were spoken, but Ancthas was clearly eager to get going, and so we did before much more time had passed. As we struck out in a north-westerly direction, I looked back at the sad village of Lhan Rhos. Its inhabitants were lined up on the edge of town, watching us with mournful glances, almost as if they expected to never see us again. Yet there was something else about those people which made me uneasy, and my stomach twisted into a knot when I realized what it was. They were almost entirely women and children: among the dozens which stood there watching us, only a handful were males, and all of these were either elderly, sick, or maimed. I swallowed hard, turned my face toward my companions, and trudged on behind them.
The growing light of day gradually brought the rest of the swamp to life: the birds began their trills and the frogs started to croak. The hazy murk, which seemed to hang over the Dunbog night and day like a shroud, became a sort of golden, blurry smoke which gave the land a rather ethereal appearance. As we fought our way through the fens and the Sun rose toward noon, that cloud did lift a bit, though it did not vanish and the stifling heat of the day before returned. Very soon we were all hot and miserable again, and I still count that as one of the least pleasant times among all my months with the Company.
It might have been roughly half past the first hour after noon when we came upon an interesting sight. There, stretched for more than a mile across the soggy ground of the Dunbog, was a sturdy stockade fence. It was manned in many places by Dunlendings of all sizes and every one was armed: some with clubs, some with spears, and all of them had hunting bows. At first I feared they were positioned to oppose us, but then I saw through the reek that we were, in fact, approaching them from the rear. The fence had been recently constructed and was meant as a bulwark against incursion from the north-west -- from the direction of Lhan Colvarn.
Ancthas was quickly among these Men and speaking with them excitedly. Although I was unable to follow their speech, it was clear Ancthas was know to these people and even respected by them. By observing signs and gestures, I gathered our new friend was explaining to his troops that he intended to advance with us up to Lhan Colvarn itself. The Dunlendings grew quiet when this was told to them, but they seemed to regard us with a certain measure of awe. It was not too much longer before Ancthas was leading the six of us through the swamp again. Very soon, however, the land became less swampy while also rising a little. A short time later we were beneath a canopy of oak trees and the bog was safely behind us, but the orange haze remained over the land.
"Lhan Colvarn is not far now, and I would advise you all to cover your faces to avoid breathing the air." said Ancthas softly, "We do not yet know the source of the plague which infested our former home, so we should take all precautions. Also, the abominations have been seen in these parts. We will go quietly and warily -- stay close to me."
We masked ourselves with spare rags and followed the Dunlending Man as he flitted from one tree-trunk to the next, always continuing on his north-westerly track. My heart began pounding audibly the further on we went, always expecting some vile monstrosity to leap out at us from the undergrowth. The forest was, however, uncannily silent. We saw a few rats (some of these were quite large) and very many swarms of insects, but nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly, Ancthas signaled for us to halt. We froze and held our breath. Slowly and stealthily, he led us around the bole of a particularly large tree, and there we saw a loathsome sight.
Two misshapen figures were hunched over a third, which lay on the ground between them. They were tearing savagely at the fallen shape, but it was hard to see clearly through the murk, so none of us could make out what it was we beheld at that time. We could hear their gruntings and half-formed speech, but it sounded to me like nothing I had ever heard before out of Man or beast.
I had turned my head toward Gaelira and was just about to ask her what she thought the figures were when the ring of steel sounded in my ear: Ancthas had drawn his sword and cried a Dunlending battle-shout as he raced toward the two shapes. The monsters charged wildly and swung their arms at him, but Ancthas fended them off with his shield. The thwick of Nephyn's bow sounded behind me and I saw her shaft pierce the left shoulder of one of the two figures, but it seemed to have no impact on it aside from the force of the blow itself. Then I noticed that, despite being wounded by several of Ancthas's sword-thrusts, the two creatures appeared unharmed: they fought as ferociously as ever! The next thing I knew, both Lagodir and Drodie had entered the fray. The beasts, whatever they were, were unarmed and fought only with fist and claw, and so were outmatched. Lagodir lopped the head off of one while Drodie and Ancthas systematically dismembered the second: first the arms, then one leg, and finally the head itself came off before the thing crumpled to the ground at last. Gaelira, Nephyn, Minasse, and I joined our friends amid the two corpses while praising their prowess-at-arms.
"Those were mighty strokes, friends," said Nephyn, "And all the more so since my darts seemed to make no difference to them. Perhaps my aim is off due to this cloudy atmosphere."
"No, you aimed well, huntress," said Ancthas as he cleaned his blade in the grass. "It is a thing we have observed concerning the abominations: they do not seem to feel pain. It was not always thus -- when first we encountered them they did not behave this way, but over time they developed this characteristic. They progressively became more deformed as well, until they ended up even as you see them now."
"But what are they?" I asked in revulsion. By then we could see what the third shape was the other two had been bending over: it was a boar, but it had been beaten and torn to pieces, apparently for its meat, which had been eaten raw.
"They are Orcs," said Ancthas. "Or were."
He used his sword to turn one of them over and I got my first good look at the creatures. They were indeed Orcs, but they have been covered in so many growths, cancers, and lesions that one had to look hard to identify their origins. Yet there were the glaring eyes, the yellow fangs, and the bowed legs of Orc-kind... but everything was deformed, even for Orcs, grotesque and mutated. Great bulging boils and creeping scabs covered almost every inch of their bodies and in some places the flesh seemed to be slowly melting away. I felt sick.
"They look like Orcs, if you can see past all of this... whatever it is," said Nephyn. "But if they no longer feel pain, do they also not fear the Sun? That would be most unusual for Orcs, yet we encountered these in broad daylight."
"Yes," Ancthas answered her, "They have slowly lost their fear of the light the more the plague took them. The three things may be related, but we do not yet know the cause. So? Where are your jokes now, Gondorian?" Lagodir looked down at the monstrosity, but he did not speak. Minasse, meanwhile, bent low to more closely examine the fallen form.
"How interesting," he said in a clinical voice. "They must have been exposed so some form of corruption. But what? And why? I suppose we would assume whatever happened to them was not meant to happen. I can think of no reason such a thing would be done deliberately."
"Our thoughts align, Elf," said Ancthas, "But we who have fought them long are no nearer to an answer than you who have beheld them today for the first time. Come, I would show you Lhan Colvarn itself; perhaps you will have some ideas on how we could dislodge the abominations from our homes."
"Are you certain you would want to?" asked Gaelira. "Would that not be dangerous, if you are uncertain as to how the Orcs came to be this way?"
"You misunderstand me," said Ancthas. "We will never return to Lhan Colvarn, but we wish to exterminate these creatures and take our vengeance for the death they brought upon us. Before the plague befell them, the Orcs murdered many of our kin and drove us from our houses. We would have justice done upon the invaders, but we hold no delusions of ever walking those streets again."
We crept along warily, all the way to the very gates of Lhan Colvarn. It was a simple village, no different than the several other Dunlending settlements we had seen throughout the region, but it was deathly quiet: only a few faint whisperings and rustlings reached my ears as we peered through the outer palisade walls.
"I see no movement within," said Ancthas quietly. "I wonder what that might mean; in the past there were always many -- Wait here!" Without any explanation, he rushed headlong into the town! My friends and I remained just outside, watching intently. We saw Ancthas run stealthily to a low hut near the entrance where he stooped as if to examine some bundle of oddments on the ground. Suddenly I realized it was another person and, almost without realizing it, the six of us moved to join him inside Lhan Colvarn.
"Haizah!" We heard Ancthas cry, his voice wrung with sorrow. "What have they done to you?!"
It was a Man, and he was alive... or at least he still had his breath. But he was so twisted and misshapen like the Orcs we had seen earlier that my heart was wracked with pity for him. Like the Orcs, his skin was mangled and bleeding with hideous pustules and gaping sores oozing everywhere. His face was half eaten by the plague, and his mouth and throat had become so deformed that, try as he might, he could not communicate with us. Ancthas wept beside him, but he would not touch Haizah, nor hold his hand.
"I will avenge you, my friend," he whispered, "I swear it."
Haizah could only make some guttural, choking sound in answer. Then, as if the Man's final living wish had been passed on to another, he promptly breathed his last. We hung our heads and Ancthas' tears fell heavily to the ground, but Minasse took him by the arm and brought him to his feet.
"Come, friend," he said, "Your duty calls you, and this place is not safe."
"I cannot leave, not yet," Ancthas said thickly. "There were others -- others I knew, others who may still live. I must search for them." Without waiting for another word he was off, darting from one pile of refuse to another in search of his kin.
I sighed heavily and looked around. The very air seemed thick with pestilence, but I felt nothing wrong in myself. The huts and houses all looked ordinary enough, except that they were all empty and abandoned as if in a hurry. One or two homes had been burned down, but in truth the place bore few marks of the Orkish invasion Ancthas had described. It was a truly surreal scene, and I was eager to leave it.
Suddenly we heard a great shout and the clash of battle! We ran up the street to find Ancthas engaged with a half dozen of the mutated Orcs. Our weapons rang in challenge as we charged into the fray. As before, the abominations were unarmed and not difficult adversaries, but their visage was so ghastly that it took an effort of will just to oppose them. Once again they showed no signs of pain as we cut and hacked them down one by one. More came. Our blades danced in the afternoon Sun beneath the gloomy boughs of the reddened oak leaves. And more came. Each new wave was more hideous than the one before it, and I began to wonder if we would die there, buried beneath a gruesome pile of deformed corpses, but all at once the onslaught ended, and the silence returned. We were very tired, but thankfully none of us were injured. We had felled some two dozen of their number, and the stink of the dead was beginning to rise.
"Your desire to find your kinfolk is admirable, Dunlending," said Lagodir, speaking for the first time that day, "But perhaps it would be wiser to --"
"Ancthas?" came a voice from somewhere up the street. "Ancthas, is that you?"
"Rhoshek!" Ancthas shouted in answer, apparently recognizing the speaker. "Rhoshek, my brother! Where are you? Tell me what happened!"
We hurried forward together and found the new survivor. This one, too, was clearly suffering from the effects of the terrible plague, but his case was not as severe -- at least not yet.
"Ancthas!" Rhoshek said as we approached. "Can it be? What madness brought you here? Leave! Leave now if you have any sense and value your life!" At this, Rhoshek shook with a violent fit of coughing, and blood flew from his lips.
"Not until you tell me what has become of you -- of everyone," Ancthas insisted. "Speak, or here I shall remain forever."
"Very well, brother," Rhoshek nodded. "I have little enough time as it is. "It was Saruman! The Orcs bore the mark of the White Hand and spoke the name Sharku. Who else could they mean but the white wizard? They must have brought some poison with them. So much death... so much pain..."
"Come with me, Rhoshek! I will bring you to Lhan Rhos and perhaps the shaman can find some cure. Or let me take you to Edgerin! He is near and would surely aid you, if anyone can." But Rhoshek shook his head.
"My time is nearly ended, Ancthas," he said. "Nor will I risk spreading this pestilence to any other, most especially you. No, I would die here, in my home and among my people, for die I must. But you! You must bring destruction to the White Hand. Swear this to me!"
"I swear I will see the White Hand thrown down," Ancthas replied. "Dear brother -- you fought bravely when they came, and I know you will rest well. Forgive me: I dare not stay longer lest more abominations find me here." Rhoshek nodded at him, then reached out his hand in token of farewell.
"Remember me as I was, brother, before this," he said. "And please -- I never had the courage: tell Idwal I love her." Ancthas nodded, then turned away. We followed him at a short distance. I saw only his back, but I almost felt as if I could see Ancthas's rage and grief swirling around him like a cloud. My heart was pounding and my breath was short -- it felt as if the Man might break like a dam at any moment and his fury would come pouring forth.
We walked quickly out of Lhan Colvarn before turning south. After about a mile or two, we suddenly stopped at the base of a large oak, though no one had given a command or asked for a halt. Ancthas knelt at the trunk and bowed his head. His sobs were deep and heart-wrenching, and our Company mourned with him, though we were unable to assuage his misery.
A short time later, Ancthas stood again and turned to face us. His eyes were red from weeping, but his voice was steady.
"You have fulfilled your part of the bargain," he said. "Now I shall fulfill mine. I will lead you to Edgerin as I said I would. This deed shall be my last before I devote the remainder of my life to taking vengeance for Rhoshek and my kin. Come, we go at once." None of us spoke, but we immediately obeyed his command.
We marched in total silence. Ancthas led us south-westward until we came to a rushing river, then he turned south and kept it on our right. The Sun sank behind the hills and evening softened the light, but still we marched on. It must have been after eight o'clock and getting dark when the Dunlending stopped us and pointed to the far shore of the water.
"Here we cross," he said. "You should take care as the current is quite strong." I blinked.
"The five of us can manage to ford," said Nephyn, "But I fear our Halfling may require some assistance." Without a word, Ancthas began searching among the river-reeds and returned when he had found what he sought: a large piece of solid drift-wood, roughly the same size as myself. Using it as a balance in the water, I was able to bob alongside Nephyn while holding her hand and so come to the other side without too much difficulty. There was a spot of bother just at the end, though, when I stupidly let go of her thinking I would have an easier time of clambering up the bank under my own power, but the current caught my drift-wood (which I was, just as stupidly, still clutching with white knuckles) and spun me off a good ways downstream. The others managed to run ahead and intercept me before I had gone more than a half-mile, and so that crisis was averted, but I was also very water-logged, bruised, and unhappy.
We decided it would be best to camp for the night after that ordeal. Drodie got a splendid fire going and I was dry again before too long. We had a hot meal too, which certainly raised my spirits, but there was always the threat of another attack by the abominations, the very memory of which was disquieting. We posted two at the watch per shift, but nothing ever showed itself within the ring of our firelight. Ancthas and Nephyn had taken the first watch while the rest of us attended to various duties. Drodie was gathering spare wood for the fire, Gaelira and Minasse were in council together (which was becoming more common of late), I was working on my journal, and Lagodir was off a little ways from the rest of us caring for his weapons and armour. I was in the middle of trying to draw a resemblance of one of the abominations for this entry when I suddenly emitted a terrific sneeze.
"I hope this doesn't mean you'll be catching cold," said Nephyn. "Mark my words, Padryc, we are going to make a waterman out of you yet!"
"Water-hobbit," I corrected her, "Of which there's been precisely none since the Dawn of Time and you, my dear Neph, are not about to change that so you might as well stop trying."
"Swimming seems like a very good skill for an adventurer to have," she said. "It would have served you well multiple times on our travels together, today not least."
"I would have no need of such a skill if you lot would stop leading me into bodies of water," I retorted. "Speaking of which, where are we, exactly? And where are we going?"
"The Pristine Glade," came Ancthas's reply. "It is not far -- we should come there before noon tomorrow."
"And Edgerin is there?" I asked.
"I believe so, yes," he said. "Whatever business you have with him is your affair, but I must tell him about the words of Rhoshek. He must know that the White Wizard is behind this corruption."
"He would be rash indeed who leaped to such a conclusion," said Gaelira and she and Minasse approached.
"Why?" Ancthas shot back.
"He is held great among the Wise -- an ally to all those who oppose evil."
"And? I care not for such things. Have not others, mightier than he, turned to dark paths before now? I will trust the words of my fallen kin over the murmurings of Outsiders." I heard Lagodir forcefully put down his work, but he did not speak.
"We only mean it would be prudent to gather proof of your suspicions," said Minasse diplomatically. "The better to rally allies to the cause of avenging your people -- I am sure your Edgerin would agree." This brought no response from the Dunlending.
"Let us set aside any words of blame this night," said Gaelira softly. "Today Ancthas witnessed a great suffering which befell those he loved. I know how terrible a sorrow it is to helplessly witness your kin falling prey to such a scourge, my friend, and we share in your grief."
"Thank you," Ancthas replied. "The White Hand have committed a crime that our people will never forgive. I will keep my word to Rhoshek: justice shall be done upon them and whatever masters they serve."
"And who is Idwal?" I asked. "Perhaps we can help you fulfill that part of your promise if we happen to be traveling near wherever she lives. It was Rhoshek's dying wish that she be told of his love for her."
"I will not keep that promise," said Ancthas. "Idwal survived the invasion and escaped to Lhan Rhos, but there she died from the plague more than three months ago. Rhoshek never knew."
There was no more conversation that night. The fire crackled merrily in our midst, but everyone's eyes were turned outward, toward the blackness, each absorbed in their own thoughts. I wondered what sorts of revelations might await us in the morning when we finally reached the mysterious Edgerin, deep in the wild country of Dunland. I slowly fell asleep while listening to an owl calmly singing his nightly tune, as if in mockery of us and our troubles.
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