“Let’s get you out of here.”
Garethred dragged Jazilin away from the brawl during which she suffered a blow to the head and could have suffered more wasn’t it for his presence. Truth being, she could have suffered none was it for him not looking the other way, trying to cover her from Emdar’s view.
That night he was furious as rarely before. “She is SIXTEEN, and an overly egoistic, drunk spearman from Rohan, at least ten years older than myself, SMASHES HER HEAD AGAINST THE WALL AND MAKES HIS WAY TO THE BAR WITH A SATISFIED SMIRK? I hope I am seeing things and this did not happen.”
Yet this did happen and for the next few days Garethred focused on not becoming mad from the place he spent his last month in. He was slowly preparing for his and Rildheldiel’s departure, for he was at last convinced that there is no point in trying to save the unsolvable.
“Do you not think these people need help, Nareloth? Will you let them die by the hands of those you promised yourself to wipe away?”
“Your compassion for them is understandable, Rildheldiel, but from my point of view they are just as terrible as their murderers. I have had enough of them; they do not seem to care at all, so why waste my time here? Be sure to seek me out when you are ready to depart and I will join you most gladly.”
So three days later she did and Garethred loaded the crates on the three horses from Sarngarth. They have left immediately, leaving the entrenched settlement behind far behind them as their horses carried them west. He could at last take a deep breath of the fresh air he had not tasted for long. Until they reached Buckland, Garethred kept rambling about how he could not wait for this moment, but Rildheldiel nodded, chuckled and replied with comforting calmness, for if she was a mortal woman she would immediately grow tired of him. Or not? His relief was in this case understandable. He did not say goodbye to anybody. He simply vanished away, planning never to return.
“I would like to hear more of your stories, Nareloth!”
“There are countless stories I could tell you, although... I am not much of a storyteller.”
“That matters not! Tell me a glorious tale about yourself.”
“The choice is pretty wide. Anything specific you would like to hear, Rildheldiel?”
“Hmm, something... fiery!”
“Fiery! Perhaps I could tell you about drake slaying up in Angmar.”
His story was interrupted on several occasions. First interruption took place near the bridge crossing the Brandywine River, when the smell of pie changed the topic for a brief moment.
“Have you ever tried their famous blueberry pie?” He asked her after a short discussion about pies and hobbits.
“Unfortunately I have not.”
“Then you simply –must- try it. What about making a stop somewhere in the Shire for a few blueberry pies?”
“Gladly!” She smiled, but could not hide her eagerness to hear the rest of his tale, so he resumed.
“Oh, wrong turn,” Garethred said after realizing they should have turned right onto the north-western road. “We will have to go through the fields.”
“The horses will surely appreciate that!”
“Oh. Yes.”
They chuckled, then Garethred recalled that they were about to make a stop for a pie.
“There will surely be some in the town behind us.” Rildheldiel pointed towards the main courtyard of Michel Delving and Garethred cheerfully nodded, jumping off Malheru and together they walked to the square. There they met a young hobbit lass with whom Rildheldiel was already acquainted from the hobbit’s earlier visit to Rivendell.
“Lelani Amorey! Eru be blessed for this meeting! This is my friend Garethred.”
Garethred raised his usual bright smile and lightly bowed his head as he always does. “A pleasure, Amorey.”
Amorey smiled as well. “Garethred? I have heard tales about you.”
“You did? I mean... of course you did!”
Amorey took out her harp and sang a song as sad that even Garethred had tears well up in his eyes.
“No need to be sad, master Garethred. We should all be happy!”
Garethred stared at her in silence, perhaps focusing on not letting a tear out. He felt so compassionate as almost never before. He pitied this hobbit lass from the depth of his heart, only the troubles of his beloved invoking heavier sorrow. But the sky was gloaming and he felt an unusual disturbance coming from the bog to the north. His gaze locked on the sky above it, sensing an evil presence. He could not tell more, for such senses did not reach that high a quality from a mortal being. The other two noticed his absence of mind.
“What is it, Nareloth? What do you see?” Rildheldiel tried to follow his gaze, but did not entirely know what to look for.
“I suggest we wait until morning. The bog might get dangerous.”
“Ah yes, he probably means them awful slugs. Terrible creatures... brrr!” Amorey shivered at the very imagination of a slug, but Garethred replied solemnly.
“Slugs are not what bothers me, Amorey. Nah! Forget it. Let us get the pie!”
“To the ovens!”
Amorey led them to the ovens in the south-western quarter and bought twenty pieces of pie. Garethred did not like this and gave Amorey a gold coin. “It was me who insisted on buying a pie. Keep this.”
“Amorey, we are heading to Falathlorn. Will you join us?” Rildheldiel asked.
“Sure I will!”
Garethred looked at her and compassion dominated his mind once again. “Stay close to me, both of you.” He looked at the night sky above the bog once again and with an unsure face mounted his horse.
Upon reaching the bog, he frowned in confusion as he could not feel the evil presence anymore. Was it hidden, or gone for good?
“I guess I am just seeing things,” he admitted after a while of careful looking around. Amorey and Rildheldiel smiled, but that smile did not last long.
“Stay here.”
Garethred jumped off his horse and sneaked into the bushes next to the road. He found the source. A terrifying, overgrown wolf slept under a small birch, his appearance rather disgusting than cute. He was at least two and a half metre long and when Garethred charged at him with a furious shout, he leapt up, raising him into a height of perhaps five feet.
The brawl was short and he did not even bother cleaning his heavy sword, returning to the two with a satisfied smile.
“Everything alright. Let us continue.”
He finished his story just as they reached the bridge above Celondím. Amorey left them and Garethred sat with Rildheldiel on a dock, both relaxing from the journey...
