The day started well, the sun was high as the pair rode out of the Rangers' encampment at Esteldin and he wondered, his mind dancing amongst questions of sense-experience and existence as it often did. The old fortress was not mentioned in the scrolls. The place was large and well fortified, clearly a key defense of the old Arthedan kingdoms: a bastion against Angmar. Feaandir thought he recalled several marks on the old maps that might be that city. If only he were back in the Hall's Chart Room! Was it Kingscrag? Minas Gallana? He could surely tell at once if only he had the maps. His search through memory occupied him for most of the ride to their first campsite.
Yet as the sun sank so did Feaandir's heart. The path to Fornost was well known to him, the landforms studied, the creatures catalogued. He could call all these details to mind at will but he could not with any effort slow his pulse or keep images of disaster from seeping into the corners of his thought.
"Old curses. Their chief enemy was a great sorcerer and had still more sorcerers in his thrall. Their curses linger long." He whispered under his breath. "It is no more than old curses..."
But he knew better. He had been down this path. He had been to Fornost and climbed its steps. He had fought the shades, the orcs, the wolves. He had felt something ... else. He was certain that the orcs had borne the signs of Angmar, the Witch-King's old devices but how was that even possible? A chance it must be...orcs finding cunning ancient implements of battle as they picked over Angmar's carcass explained it all.
Except...the shadow was on Fornost. Feaandir had retreated from it before and he could only wonder what he would do when he fell under that shadow again. Even though he knew it must only be old curses, the lingering weapons of a bygone war. These thoughts plagued him during the first day's ride and whilst sitting by the camp fire that night with the woman from the Hunt. So preoccupied was he with his fears that he said hardly a word to her. His normally keen perception did not even note this unusual behavior for he loved to speak to new peoples, share his lore and learn their ways.
This time however he held back and it escaped his notice. A small thing. He told her about the wargs, the orcs and the worms. He told her about the devices of Angmar on the orcish equipment. Yet he failed to mention the cold presence of the betraying Dead. And he failed to mention the other darkness like a hole in his mind. He did not mention it when they broke camp the following morning. Nor during their morning ride to the ruins. He even failed to make the connection when he and his companion clearly felt the presence of the unquiet shades in the hills before the ruined outwalls of the citadel.
He said nothing ... and the whispers completely escaped his notice ... until it was far far too late for either of them to speak.
