Late in the evening Hilfar still sat at the tavern table of Ost Forod. Well, you cannot really call it a tavern, it is a table with a few benches run by dwarf called Dofri Gold-Mead. He poured him another tankard of ale and shoved it under Hilfar’s nose.
Dofri: We have met before have we not? I recall you were here some time ago.
Hilfar: You have a good memory, my father and I were here about four moons ago.
Dofri: It’s easy to remember my customers, we do not get a lot of visitors here Master Hilfar. I could not help but notice the great amount of kegs on that wagon near the stable, is that yours?
Hilfar nodded and took a sip: That ale belongs to our brothers in the north near the ice bay.
Dofri seemed impressed: That is no easy road, but I recall a caravan pass Ost Forod not long ago full of hides and salted fish from the ice bay.
Hilfar smiled: Aye that is from Zigilgund alright.
Dofri examined Hilfars face: You look a bit pale Master Hilfar, is the ale not to your liking?
Hilfar stared at the contents of his mug: Not the ale is fine, but today’s happenings are worth telling a tale, are you up for that?
Dofri smiled: By all means, I love tales!
Hilfar stood up and walked closer to Dorfi to start his story in full colors.
Hilfar: Our road did not start at the blue mountains, no we came from the east of the mining outpost called Othrikar. My father brought this wagon full of ale and mead, one of the vital supplies to survive in the cold north. Before we left we were approached by a new beard, a stout fellow called Throngur Warghammer, yes he sleeps in the tent over there. He wanted to work for that old crow of a Goldthumb, but we convinced him otherwise! You know Goldthumb do you?
Dofri thought a moment: Ah yes I heard some tales, they say he has more gold than King Dain.
Hilfar nodded: He is quite rich indeed. But where was I, ah yes! Throngur offered his aid to get this caravan to its destination so off we went. They day started quite nice, the weather was favorable and the road was silent.
Slowly we made our way westward, the lands of the North Downs can be quite a nice sight on a clear day. Forests and deep valleys and countless ruins of an old kingdom. Either way, all went well until we reached the fields of Fornost by the end of the morning. Here we stood for quite a dilemma, will we take the long and tiring road, going around for miles via Bree, Shire-lands, Oatbarton to here – or – will we cross the barren fields saving at least a few days of extra travel? After some discussion we decided to cross the fields. But when we overlooked these barren hills from a higher vantage point, we were not so comfortable with this choice, I tell you. All the trees appeared dead, as well as the grass and there was thick layer of haziness over the hills.
Dofri looked with great interest and disbelief: Don’t tell you took the road through the fields of the dead!?
Hilfar nodded and spoke in a way as if he was about to tell something scary: Oh yes, we did take that road, I will tell you all about it. After many doubts and second thought we entered the fields of Fornost on a very old half paved road. We were confident enough as we marched over these barren hills. Yet soon all sound of birds, wind and other life faded away and the air grew thicker. We followed the road without saying a word, you know that feeling when you are being watched right? Well I think we all felt like that by now. Not so far further, we heard a voice in the damp air. It was not a pretty voice, it was a shrieking woman’s voice. We approached her as she danced through the field, her eyes were crazed and red of insanity! She kept singing the same tune over and over, no matter what we yelled at her! Crazy isn’t it?
Dofri looked intrigued by the tale: What did you do then?
Hilfar: By Durin, nothing of course! That woman was a complete nutter! We left her to herself and marched on, yet our road kept growing darker still. Without the sun there was no telling if this road still headed west and the feeling of dread kept growing. It was not long before we started to see things, dead things. Especially around ruins and stone circles. None spoke out loud, but it was clear we were ignoring the strange sightings, dead faces they were, horrible to look at!
When the normal daylight had faded and was exchanged for a sinister green light, we got into real trouble. The horse lost it! I saw my father and the ale wagon being dragged into the darkness, away from the path! I blindly followed screaming for my father. We found him tossed off near a dead tree, but the ale wagon was gone. We patched him up, but behind us was something dreadful! In the remains of an old city that lay behind us there were green lights and many, many dead things. Dead faces and spears and bows even. We ran for it, after the missing caravan. And from there my memory seems to fail me. I think I lost it, all I can remember fell voices and vague apparitions trying to get me! I tried to hit them with my mace but they cannot be touched. It is as if they soak all your energy and life. We were doomed!
All I can remember then was that Throngur slapped me out of my grim state and I was dragged out of that forsaken place. We actually found the horse of our caravan who had led us to safer grounds. The foul air was gone and we saw the sun again, you can imagine how relieved we all were. We found a little resting place of a ranger where we were able to get our wits back. And so ended our dreaded road to Ost Forod.
Dofri poured in another ale and placed it before Hilfar: That is quite the tale Master Hilfar, you are lucky to have survived that encounter. Not many dare to take the road over the fields of the dead nor do many return from it alive.
Hilfar gulped his ale and wiped his mouth with his forearm: I best get some rest, a long road to go still.
Dofri bowed: Goodnight master Hilfar.
