The Race of Men is fickle... Their minds changing at the slightest whim. Lirita and I would learn this amongst our travels, yet would not expect to learn of it so soon. Lord Elrond suggested we head for the encampment in Evendim. Joining that of my kin, the Dúnedain that protect the lands and fight to reclaim that of Annúminas. One must admit that I was not too fond of making this reunion. Spending so much time among the Elves, their habits merging with my own made me even doubt the trust of my kin. Would they openly accept that of two strangers? One of their own, most likely presumed dead and the other an Elf? Both Lirita and I were uncertain of our future amongst the Wardens Annúminas.
Two months passed since our leaving of Imladris. We bypassed that of Ost Guruth and Bree, knowing if my presence was alerted it may cost us greatly. After we crossed over the Greenway Crossing, we headed north to the settlement of Trestlebridge. Running low on supplies, mainly of Lirita’s parchment that she held dear to her. We stopped to pick up what we could. The countless pages of script, Lirita had already written... Chronicling our adventures and always assuring me that they would go down in legend. Though I found it hard to believe it made her happy, which to me meant more than anything. As we prepared to cross the bridge heading deeper into the North Downs, a group of drunken patrons emerged from the local tavern. Abuse was hurled in our direction, mainly at Lirita.
“Knife Eared Bitch!”
My fists clenched, wanting to tear the men apart. Though Lirita would take hold of my arm, encouraging me to leave it and continue on our way. Illith and Aermhar grew restless also, so I inclined and followed Lirita’s wish. As we crossed, I looked back to notice one man with a cold stare. A giant of a man, with a huge club swung over his shoulder. Our eyes locked and I knew this would not be the last time we would meet. We set up camp, to the south of Fornost. Not the most practical place to set up camp, but it would only be for the night. As I lit a fire, I noticed Lirita was not her usual self. When I asked her what was wrong, she claimed nothing before mounting Illith and riding off. She called to me and said “Wait for me here, there is something I must do.”
I did as Lirita said, I waited. I waited and waited... Yet, she had not returned. I stomped the fire out as I grew restless. Without looking, I grabbed Aermhar by his reigns but I was too late. Aermhar reared up as arrow struck him in his back leg. I quickly drew my sword, cutting that of one of the attacker’s head off. As I fought with the others, I then noticed that of the giant man. One foul swing of his club and Aermhar’s skull was caved in, thudding down onto the ground. Out of sheer anger and rage, I charged the man but to only be swooped to the side by another swing of his club. Like a pack of wild wolves, the group of men begin to kick me when I was down repeatedly. The giant man watched for a while, from this I figured he was the leader. He soon told his men to stop, before towering over and lifting me by the scruff of the neck. Barely conscious, I spat blood in his face. The giant man merely laughed, before headbutting and knocking me out cold.
I awoke to the smell of burning flesh... horse flesh... Aermhar would become that of my attackers meal for the night. There was nothing one could do, bound to a beam. I was broken and bruised, with no energy to fight back at this time. It was then the giant man noticed me awaken. He laughed, standing and throwing a bone down which I could only presume belonged to Aermhar. With a deep, grunt he approached.
“We have heard all about you... Warden! A nice little price we would get, for turning you in ‘unspoiled’. But nothing was said about the Knife Eared Bitch! Never sampled that of Elf Cunt... Where is she?”
They wanted Lirita. They knew who I was, but it was never about the reward to them. As I remained silent, a swift blow from the giant’s fist would strike me. A scream could be heard, but not from me. The giant man’s brow rose, spinning round to notice one of his men laying face down with an arrow in his back. Another would fall, followed by another. The giant man would roar, raising his club only to drop it as an arrow struck his hand. In the distance, I could see a figure mounted upon a horse with bow in hand... Lirita. Four other men would then charge in, fighting off the others in the camp. It was over. Lirita came and untied me, helping me to my feet. She raised my hood and cowl for me, placing a finger against her lips telling me to be quiet. One of the men sheathed his sword and turned.
“Welcome Brother... We are the Wardens of Annúminas... Your Kin... Your Home...”
Lirita knew I would disagree with what she was going to do, which is why she left not saying a word. When she returned to our camp with those of my kin, they managed to track us all the way to Kingsfell. Who knows how long I was out for, though it did not matter... Lirita never gave up hope for me. She hugged me so tight, I struggled to breath. The Wardens of Annúminas did not want to linger though, encouraging us to grab my weapons from the bodies which held them and ride west. We did as asked and swiftly. Though I did hold trust for my kin and did not want to ride to them before... My mind was changed at the kindness they showed. The Race of Men is Fickle... Even the best are...
It was a few days ride, before we finally reached what I secretly had longed to see for sometime. High King’s Crossing... a monument to the Kings of Old. A sight which can only be appreciated first hand, no sketch or description could match. Lirita was as stunned as I when we approached. A camp was set beneath the monument. More “Rangers of the North” rested there, acknowledging there brethren as they returned. Eyes yet wondered though, leaning in the direction of Lirita and I. My mind almost changing yet again, not knowing if I could trust the other Dúnedain. I overheard a few speak of the old watchtower of Amon Sûl, mentioning word from someone named “Ghost” about a successful defence against Orcs. We paid no heed to their troubles as of yet, we had only just arrived. Though it would seem we were not to rest for long. A young woman, the only other amongst the camp other than Lirita approached. She held two bowls of Rabbit Stew, passing one to both myself and Lirita. We where famished, this being the first time I had ever seen Lirita eat any form of animal. The woman smiled as we ate, before speaking in a gentle voice.
“I am Gwaith... I am sorry to burden you both, but we must move to our main camp at Tinnudir as soon as possible.”
The young woman, Gwaith... She seemed merely a child when we first met, though she seemed more trustworthy than the others. Maybe that was the plan all along. Lirita and I finished our quick meal, before grabbing our things and setting off once more. My wounds would hinder me a little, yet I would press onward just as hard as any other. Less than a day’s ride it took us to reach Tinnudir. The vast view over Lake Evendim was a pleasant one, looking over that of the old kingdom of Annúminas. That was until you remembered what dwelled within the ruin. We were met by their leader who went by the name Calenglad. He welcomed us as one would expect, yet asked to speak with me alone. Lirita agreed to this, heading over to the keep to most likely continue with her writing she has long missed.
“I know who you are Valindal, son of Taol. Your mother and father were dear friends once... You where presumed dead with them...”
The only people I knew to use my name, had been Lirita and that of Lord Elrond and his house. Not even the Elven Carpenters I worked beneath used it, only calling me “Grey Warden” even though they knew my name. It was a pleasant change, to hear it from one of my kin. Calenglad explained how I was to come by this name and the resemblance of it to that of King Valandil, son of Isildur. Though no direct relation, I was indeed a son of Númenor and I should take my place amongst the brethren and become a Warden of Annúminas. Did I have any other choice? Should I remain here in Evendim and aide that of my kin, who so far have been nothing but kind?
I agreed to Calenglad’s request, which is where he reached deep within his pocket removing that of a “Star of Númenor” Brooch. He claimed it to be that of my fathers, before he and my mother left for Dol Amroth. It was then my mind was set. Emotions ran high within me, remembering that of what both my Father and Mother had taught me. Was this what all the training was for? Was this who I was to become? The Race of Men is fickle... Their minds changing at the slightest whim... Mine no different...
