Mersday, 11th of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
The Pristine Glade, Somewhere in Dunland
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| Edgerin |
I took a brief moment to reflect as we packed up our meager camp and prepared to move out. This whole affair had started weeks and weeks ago at Elrond's urging after it became known that the Man called Captain Inar had deposed Mallacai as leader of the Seekers of the Seven Stars. That same Inar had, reportedly, blamed us for Amarthiel's rise to power in Angmar and had been hunting us ever since. Most of us suspected, I think, that he was the one really behind the bounty posters we had seen scattered throughout Dunland. We wished to do something about it, but Inar was a very secretive and well-protected adversary, and so we had resolved to find the one person any of us knew who might have some insight on how to defeat or at least confront him, and that was Edgerin. Apparently the two had been reasonably close at one point in time, but Inar's constant quest for power had driven a wedge between them. I remembered, too, what Elrond had told us about how even a well-meaning person who embraces coercion to achieve their ends can be a very dangerous individual. After weeks of being a marked hobbit (to say nothing of the near-disaster that recently befell us in the back-alleys of Avardin), I felt I was beginning to understand what he meant.
All of this only made me more eager to get moving, although it seemed like an eternity before we finally did. We marched for a couple of hours while the Sun rose in the east behind us. The trees overhead kept the heat of the day off our backs and I had another chance to admire the pure, untamed wildness of Dunland's forests. I tried to ignore the nagging feeling in my mind that we would, at some point, probably have to traverse the vile Dunbog a second time on our way out of that area, but for the moment I decided I would concentrate instead on the natural beauty which surrounded me.
Once the Sun had passed the noon hour, however, I was truly beginning to get impatient. Ancthas led us further west, toward what looked to me like nothing more than a blank cliff wall. Once we were close enough, however, I saw there was a cave delved into the rock. We followed Ancthas inside and wound our way down a curving passage of stone. At first I thought my ears were playing tricks on me, but soon it became clear I was hearing the sound of rushing water. Then we turned a corner and I was instantly blinded. The rock walls abruptly ended, and the sky was clear overhead. The Sun suddenly shone down full onto my face so that it took a few minutes before I could see properly again. When I finally regained my sight, I gasped in amazement.
There, below us, ran a wide and lush valley. It was bordered on all sides by towering stone from which many waterfalls cascaded with unending music. In the very centre of that valley there rose the single most enormous oak tree I had ever seen in my life. Nothing, not even the Party Tree outside Bag End in the Shire, even came close by comparison. It was a giant among trees, and its boughs and roots seemed to stretch on forever while the occasional leaf fluttered down from the un-guessable heights of its branches. I saw several pools which were fed by the waterfalls, clusters of lovely flowers in all colours, and many peaceful animals wandering listlessly among the underbrush. It was a picture of pure pastoral beauty, the like of which I had never seen before and have never seen since.
Ancthas permitted us all to stand there for several moments in awe of the view, but eventually he directed our attention to the base of the great tree. There, for the first time, I noticed a tiny figure, and Ancthas led us to him. When we were near enough, I could see it was a Man, and that he was surrounded by many animals. These latter took leave of us as we approached, but the Man seemed not to notice us at all: he was engrossed in the vials of liquid he held in his hands which he had taken, I assumed, from the peculiar-looking bundle of oddities that lay on the ground near him. The Man was elderly with a white beard and a (mostly) bald head, while his raiment was almost entirely of brown robes. I saw a long walking-stick propped neatly up against the tree's bole and a small pile of books stacked behind him, but aside from these simple possessions he appeared to be alone. We walked right up to within six feet of him, but he did not acknowledge us. Finally, Ancthas cleared his throat, loudly.
"Yes, I know you are there, Ancthas, my friend," the old Man said, "I trust you were able to find what I asked for in Avardin?" At this, Ancthas removed a small pouch from somewhere and handed it to him. The old man took it and opened it immediately. It contained a small pile of salt crystals which he quickly added to his glass vial. Almost at once the liquid began to bubble and produce noxious white fumes -- I covered my mouth to guard against the pungent aroma of sulfur which hung in the air.
"Phew!" the old man said as he wafted the smell away. "It's a good thing I only had a small amount with me or there might have been real trouble just now. Well, well, that didn't exactly go as planned... back to square one, I suppose. Ah, I can get back to it later. In the meantime, Ancthas, perhaps you should introduce your friends."
"Edgerin," Ancthas said with a slight bow, "Permit me to introduce --"
"Gaelira!" Edgerin cried with a broad smile. "How have you been, my dear Elf? It has been far, far too long! And who are these others? They must be great adventurers and warriors if they are going about in your company!"
"They are that, old friend," said Gaelira as she beamed. "This is Lagodir of Gondor, Drodie of the Blue Mountains, Nephyn of Bree, Padryc of the Shire, and Minasse, Noldo of long memory. You have no idea what we have endured to reach this place; you never were an easy one to find!"
"Me? Nonsense! Just look for me where no one else is!" the old Man laughed, "I need quiet, and the Pristine Glade is a wonderful place to get it, generally speaking. Lately all my time has been taken up with these experiments, trying to discern just what happened at Lhan Colvarn. I'm afraid I've not had much luck on that count so far, but I don't give up easily, as you know."
"We are glad to hear it," said Gaelira. "We saw the place for ourselves only yesterday and the horrors therein."
"You did?!" Edgerin gasped. "Are you ill? How is your breathing? Did you drink of the water there?"
"Of course we did not drink of the water," said Ancthas. "We are all fine."
"No thanks to you!" the old Man scolded. "Didn't I tell you not to go near that place? What if the plague was carried on the wind, like the one which befell the South Kingdom all those years ago? Still, I can see none of your are affected, so (irritated as I am by your disobedience, Ancthas) I suppose this is cause for celebration. I had worried the sickness was borne through the air, but if you have been into Lhan Colvarn without contracting the contagion, then I think we can rule that out. Actually, I was rather beginning to wonder if the illness was to be found in the water supply. I thought it possible considering Orcs and Men both drink, you see, and seeing you here in perfect health lends some credence to that idea. But you, Ancthas! How could you put yourself and these others into such danger so recklessly?"
"Because I suspected you were trying to protect me from something," said Ancthas solemnly. "And I discovered what it was." There was an awkward silence, and Edgerin's eyes became downcast.
"Yes, well... you can't really blame me for trying," he muttered. "He... died well, I trust?"
"He was alive when I left him," the Dunlending replied, "But he would not leave Lhan Colvarn." Edgerin sighed.
"A good man, he was. I shall miss him terribly, and I know you will also."
"He spoke the name Sharku, Edgerin. I know you know what that means."
"And I know you think you know what that means," Edgerin countered. "We've been through this before: no one has seen anything to prove that Saruman the White has anything to do with any of this. I will not discount your theory, young Ancthas, please believe me on that, but more research is needed. Unless you can explain to me why Saruman would suddenly ally himself with Orcs, then send those Orcs into a remote village in the swamps of Dunland, then cause those same Orcs, his own foot-soldiers as you tell the tale, mind you, to become horribly deformed by an uncanny plague which he himself personally dispersed, I suppose? For what purpose?"
"I do not know," Ancthas admitted, his fists clenched at his sides.
"Exactly," said Edgerin. "Action will be taken, but first we must have reason; there are any number of conceivable explanations for all that has transpired, none of which necessarily point toward your grand conspiracies. Ah, but your companions did not travel hundreds of miles to listen to the two of us argue. Come! You lot must have some dire mission and we are doing all the talking; speak, and tell me how I can help you."
Then we told Edgerin all about our adventures against Guloth, the fall of Mordirith, the rise of Amarthiel, and the murder of Luean. We showed him the scrap of paper we found near the body. The old Man's brows knitted together in thought.
"Inar..." he said quietly. "This person the letter is addressed to, this Volfren, I have no knowledge of him. But Inar is quite another matter. I think I see now your purpose in seeking me out; there are few others anywhere in Eriador or out of it who know that Man as well as I, but even I cannot claim to know all there is to know. I myself was at least partly taken by surprise at his sudden lust for power, I must admit."
"Our understanding is that Mallacai fled before Inar made his move to oust him," said Gaelira, "And that he has journeyed south in the company of two others who remained loyal. Have you heard any news of his passing this way?"
"I have not," Edgerin replied, "Although that means little enough: I am rather isolated here, as you yourself have already pointed out, and we have plenty of our own troubles in this land. If you wish to follow Mallacai then you would have to journey near the Gap of Rohan and perhaps you will see for yourself whether Saruman is a traitor, as my headstrong apprentice here seems so ready to believe."
"We were rather hoping," said Nephyn, "That you might be able to advise us on how to deal with Inar. Beginning, perhaps, with where we might find him."
"Hm, I may be able to help you there," he said thoughtfully. "Now Mallacai, he never ran his affairs out of any one place. He was always moving about; seemed to think he would be better informed if he was out in the world, seeing things firsthand, if you understand me. But Inar was a different sort: he always loved fortresses and headquarters and camps of war, and he could ever be found in their midst. I happen to know he favoured the Bree-land -- chiefly because it was (and still is) such a major cross-roads with easy access to land-routes which can take one virtually anywhere of importance in the North, and it's also an excellent hub for the gathering of news... or the planting of spies. For the longest time he kept a bivouac in the area around Nen Harn; it was removed enough from Bree-town to keep its location a secret but near enough to conduct his business there when he needed to. If I were you, that's the first place I would check."
"You mean to say he was no more than a day or two's march north of Bree this whole time?!" Nephyn exclaimed. "Goodness -- I may have seen him in town, then, and he almost certainly knows of me. It would be hard to miss the one dark-skinned lass in all the city."
"It's certainly possible you have seen him," Edgerin agreed. "He was always very protective of his identity -- he used to wear a low cowl at most whiles and never drew attention unless he wanted to. But does he know of you? I wouldn't be so sure -- he was never one to pay much mind to anything which he held to be of no value to him personally."
"And what would you suggest when we stand before Inar himself?" asked Lagodir. It was the first time I had heard him speak all day.
"Ah, well, he is no longer young, you know," Edgerin laughed. "If I were you, I would be more concerned about his bodyguards -- the leader of that kinship always had them, of course, and I suspect Inar will have increased their numbers. If you can manage to deal with them, then I'd say your job will have become considerably easier."
"Oh dear," I said, "Teams of grim, sleepless Elves? I remember they were always with Mallacai when we saw him. However shall we overcome them?"
"For advice on Elves," Edgerin retorted, "Ask an Elf, I always say. I'd hardly qualify as an expert when you have two of them standing right here. As for Inar, you may need to outwit him."
"Is diplomacy no recourse at all?" asked Nephyn.
"Why, certainly," the old man replied, "But I don't think Inar is going to give you something for nothing. Still, sometimes an opponent's greatest strength can also be their greatest weakness, yes? Inar cares about only one thing: driving back the forces of the Enemy. He is convinced that Varda herself will gift the magical Seven Stars to him if he proves himself worthy of receiving them (fool that he is), so perhaps you have your answer right there."
"Sorry?" I said, not at all following his reasoning.
"Your own courage!" he cheered. "You have been willing to oppose the Enemy for all these many months, and with no small measure of success, I might add... don't you think that could serve as an excellent bargaining chip when dealing with the likes of Inar?"
"I see what you mean, friend," said Gaelira. "I will think on this some more later."
"A fine pickle we're in, meanwhile," Drodie groused. "Now we'll have to hoof it all the way back to Bree to hunt him down with his lackeys dogging us every step of the way. I shouldn't be surprised if we never make it there -- and that Izarrair will probably have his say at some point too!"
"What?" Edgerin snapped. "Izarrair? You mean to say you've seen him skulking around Dunland?" We proceeded to tell the old man about every encounter we had with the dark horseman.
"Ho, ho," the sage chuckled, "He must think himself veeeeery clever, I reckon. So sure of himself now that he has his new, strong friends, is he? Well, we'll see what comes of that." We all waited for him to explain himself.
"It's like this," Edgerin said, seeing we clearly wanted to know more. "Izarrair is a native Dunlending -- which you've probably figured out for yourselves already -- but he's an arrogant sort. I knew him before he turned; he was usually content to let others do his work for him while he got all the credit, but that doesn't mean he isn't a dangerous Man. He is a very skilled warrior and it would be wise to not underestimate him. I had told him to leave Dunland and never return after he allied himself with the Dark Powers some time ago, but now it seems he is back and causing trouble again. I would see to him myself if I could, but at the moment I am needed here far more urgently. If what you tell me of yourselves is true, then I think you have what it would take to defeat him on your own -- just don't allow him to demoralize you or goad you into doing something foolish with his endless taunting."
"He seemed content to merely follow our trail and harass us at convenient times," said Minasse. "I wonder what his true purpose is. He was very interested in our Halfling, but he has never made a determined move to attack us."
"I'm not surprised about that," Edgerin nodded. "You see, he fears the Elder Kindred mightily; a skirmish against the Rohirrim some years ago that went very, very wrong for him -- remind me to tell you the full tale sometime. Anyway, I suspect he's been trying to engineer things from a distance to reduce your Company's number, most especially the Elves among you, before he would attempt an outright attack himself. That you have withstood his efforts so far certainly speaks well of you, but if he becomes desperate enough to fulfill whatever dark orders he's under, then you may have much to fear. He was long renowned as the most talented spear-man in Dunland, and not without good reason. Should it come to blows, I think you will have to trust to your own strength and wits to see you through. My, my, but you lot have gotten yourselves into a -- what did the Dwarf call it? A pickle?"
"I'll say!" I agreed. "And we haven't even gotten onto that Emissary character yet."
"The Emissary?" Edgerin's smile vanished and his eyes became hard. "Why do you speak of him?"
"Well, that name has come up a few times in our travels, is all," I said. I recounted the times we had heard it starting with Morhun in Moria and ending with Iargandir in the Lich Bluffs. "Not that the Emissary has been a concern of ours, what with all the other shady folk we have to deal with," I said. "I confess I had completely forgotten about him until just now."
"Oh, it doesn't do to go forgetting about him," said Edgerin darkly. "Have you seen him?"
"No, we have not," said Nephyn.
"Oh. Well, neither have I," said Edgerin with a frown. "Actually, I was rather hoping you had. I've heard all sorts of rumours about him -- the Orcs of Moria have begun to range far beyond their gates, out into Hollin and even as far south as Thror's Coomb at times. I have heard them speak of this Emissary and his treating with Mazog, he who rules the Orcs of Moria. Apparently they are looking to strike some kind of alliance, and that could prove disastrous. I am certain the Emissary is a Man of Mordor and I'm fairly convinced he is not operating out of Eriador, though his influence has spread here. No, I think he is somewhere in Rhovanion. I had thought to inform the Lady Galadriel about him, but I am no longer fit for such a long journey, and the Lady probably knows at least as much as I do anyhow."
"That is a safe assumption, friend," said Gaelira with a smile. "And now, I think, we have troubled you long enough. We have much more to discuss, of course, but most of us could use a rest."
I suddenly realized the afternoon was quickly vanishing thanks to all our talk. I had completely forgotten about lunch, and my stomach was letting me know it. Drodie, Nephyn, Lagodir, and I decided to set up a little campsite not far from the great tree while Edgerin, Gaelira, and Minasse continued their discussions. We had to sate our appetites with cram while we made the preparations, but the four of us cooked up a masterful meal of broiled pork rashers and fried tomatoes with onion and mushrooms the likes of which I hadn't tasted in many days. When we had finished, we washed up and then I settled down to write this section of my journal. Another two and a half hours had passed since we had broken off our talks with Edgerin, but even after the Sun had begun to set there was the old Man and the Elves, still chatting away.
"Talk be the breath of life to the Eldar, goes an old saying," said Lagodir with a wry grin as he watched.
"The same could be said of most hobbits," I observed, "Except you'll only find us yammering on about food or family trees, not dark dealings or scary, mounted pursuers of weary travelers. And weary I am, indeed! That meal has brought the sleep into my eyes much too early. I think I shall take a stroll and explore some more of this remarkable valley."
"My lids have gotten a bit heavy themselves," said Drodie. "Come, Lagodir! Let us spar a bit, as we used. It has been too long since I put that last dent in your armour, and I've been itching to do it a second time."
"I seem to recall our last bout a bit differently," said Lagodir with a wink to me, "But I shall give you the chance you desire."
"Oh, enough of the fighting and noise," said Nephyn. "Padryc, I would walk with you, if you don't mind, while these two boys play soldier. It sounds to me as though we have plenty of real battles ahead of us, so I'd just as soon not spend my quiet moments thinking about them if I don't have to."
"Just let me finish off this last section," I pleaded. "You have no idea how hard it is to pick a thought back up again once you've lost it."
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