We pulled up to the Forsaken Inn in record timing. I went inside first to make sure that Altheric and the others had left; I met them halfway out the door. He was being supported by Aranoll and Anastasiar, with Catrena bringing up the rear. I followed them outside, though I did apologize to the Commander for my brusque tone and demeanor. He did not seem to take much offense. Aranoll and Anastasiar got him onto his horse and left swiftly. Catrena remained behind to speak with Daphnee and Furley on their horses.
I approached Ithilwe and Gisuna to speak on what our next plan of action should be. Furley noticed, and looked over to us, and spoke first.
“I want you to try and find their tracks. Find their camp, scout them out. Do NOT engage. We just need to know what it is we’re up against,” he said firmly before turning his attention back to Daphne and Catrena. Gisuna looked to me and spoke in a resolute tone.
“You should ride back with them, Amathlan, and ride fast. We will need help. Three of us are too small of a party if we get into trouble,” she insisted. Although she was right, I felt my stomach drop nonetheless. To leave her and Ithilwe, even for a time, made me fraught with anxiety. It was not their fault, of course; the fault for that lies with me alone, and my own guilt for Mallossel’s death. Daphne looked to them and then to myself, and I caught her gaze. There was no room for hesitation or error.
“Very well,” I relent. “I shall ride back and find assistance; but please, wait here. Start searching for their trail, but wait for me to return with others. If you were to fall out there in the wilds, we would not be able to find you.” I practically beg it of them - I can hear the desperation breaking into my tone. Gisuna and Ithilwe share a meaningful look ere their gaze return to me atop Thalawest; Gisuna nods, and Ithilwe offers me a smile. A sigh of relief escapes my lips. Daphne and Furley fly by me upon their steeds, and that is my cue to leave. I turn and follow them down the dusty road back to the Midgewater Marshes, where our headquarters lie in wait nearby.
My heart is pounding to the same beat of Thalawest’s hooves against the stones of the road. Is this fear? Or is this ecstasy? The rush of feeling useful; sent off on a mission like a soldier in a war? Sent to lead as I did once with those Men in Evendim? My chest is pounding and my lungs aflame; I crave the taste of warfare on my tongue.
I see Furley’s horse turn further up the road, and I know we are almost back to the headquarters. Daphne is closer to me; her blonde hair falls loose in the wind. A part of me wants to reach out to the pair once we arrive, but I know that I have no time to waste. Daphne and Furley can care for each other, and I have a task awaiting me in the Lone-lands. I nudge Thalawest to the left to follow them down the long trail to the company headquarters. I can see the smoke of the bonfire we oft burn in the front yard even from here. Thalawest snorts in recognition and picks up speed to where he nearly surpasses Daphne on her steed.
Furley and Daphnee dismount and immediately head to the nearby waterfall, but I remain on Thalawest. He rears up in a harsh stop as I nearly overrun Kurtbor and Marganil. They back up; Kurtbor, as per his usual, has a tankard in hand.
“Hail! I need eyes and fighters for a hunt in the Lone-lands!” I exclaim and notice how quickly Kurtbor stands up. He grins wickedly.
“And what is our quarry?” He behests of me.
“Men,” I answer without hesitation. Marganil sits up a little straighter. Kurtbor considers my offer over his mug and decides to turn me down. I shall remember that. Tired. Hmph.
“I will join you, sir,” Marganil offers. “Though, I have been drinking as well,” she offers with a lopsided grin. I do not care. I need all the help I can get.
“I shall join you as well!” I hear a familiar voice call out. I turn and am greatly relieved to see that is is Seregrian who has taken up the call. A formidable lore-mistress and fighter in her own right. Two more brings our party up to five - that should be enough for the scouting task at hand.
“If you are ready, then mount up! We ride now!”
The thundering of hooves down the path scattered rabbits and mice from the road outside of the Forsaken Inn. Gisuna and Ithilwe were waiting for us; Ithilwe was mounted on his horse, but Gisuna had shifted to her bear form and was now sniffing the ground. I pulled Thalawest to a stop, and he nickered in disdain from the hurried activity. The sun was beginning to set over the Weather Hills.
“Where do we head first?” Marganil asks, but I turn my gaze to Ithilwe.
“Gisuna said we should make for Minas Eriol. Their scent will be easier to pick up from there,” he informs, and the she-bear roars lowly in agreement. I nod, and we begin to make the trek back to Minas Eriol. Along the way, I fill in Seregrian and Marganil as to what exactly occurred during the ambush, so they had as much knowledge as we did. It was not long before we stood on the low incline of the western pass, the entry to Minas Eriol towering above the slope. I observed the high ridge around us where the archers had stood; maybe thirty strong. I bit my lip so hard in anger I drew blood but wiped it away ere Ithilwe could take note of it.
Gisuna was quick to put her nose to the ground to try to catch a scent while the rest of us spoke of our next plan.
“Perhaps we should split up?” Ithilwe offers. “One could see if they took a different path through the hills, out of Minas Eriol.” Though it was a sound suggestion, I react very viscerally to it.
“No! We should not split up. It is far too dangerous,” I insist, and Seregrian faces me with surprise in her gaze. “It will be safer if we all stay together. If we split, and something happens to one group, how is the other to know?”
“He speaks wisely,” Seregrian says. I sigh in relief; if she agrees with me on something, then I know I am in the right. “It will be best for this mission if we all stay in one group.”
It is then that Gisuna raises her head from further along the path; she roars loudly to get our attention, and with haste do we mount up to follow the trail she has located.
The trail was long and winding. It led us from the Forsaken Inn to start. From there, it veered west towards the Midgewater Marshes. Then, it went north-east back into the Weather Hills. The night lit our path by the time we approached Weatherfoot; Orc camps were in sight. I knew as the trail grew more dangerous, that we were more at risk.
“If anyone feels they need to turn back now,” I said, “it will not be held against them.”
Silence greeted my offer at first.
“I need to go back,” Marganil said softly. “I must return to Bree.”
“Very well,” I reply. “Your courage thus far has been duly noted.”
Upon crossing one of the Orc camps, we make rest on one of the ridges just below Weathertop. I have an uneasy feeling that we are close to something, so I scout ahead whilst Seregrian and Ithilwe treat Gisuna’s earlier injuries from Minas Eriol. I notice naught but crebain and a patrolling Orc, which I dispatch quickly and silently with my sword. I lower its body down slowly so no noise is heard, and return to the others.
“We must go,” Seregrian says. “We should take advantage of the moonlight,” she insists. We agree, and move out further up the ridge.
That is where we find the first body. It was abandoned on the top of the ridge. Seregrian approached first, and I followed. The blood was fresh, but the corpse was hard to identify. It was the bracer on his wrist that gave us the answer we sought. On it was the same sigil the archers bore; two spears crossed over an eye. I take the bracer and stow it away. Perhaps someone back at the Company knows what it is. We press on.
We passed Glumhallow; the Orc settlement. We went further north until we reached the ford of Gondrinn. At the bank of the river, we find another body. This one looked like it had been drug or pushed down the steep embankment. It is fresher than the last. As Gisuna sniffs the corpse to judge if we are still on the right trail, Seregrian and I notice the smoke. There is smoke and a distant fire in the ruins of Gondrinn. Any fool to light a fire in the Weather Hills, even at the break of dawn, was a fool who was not familiar with the land. We have found our quarry; our next task is to cross the river.
