The smell of death was heavy in the air as Ramield rode north. Tracking the wolf pack wasn’t hard; trails of blood, howls in the night, and the trampled earth all wound their way north. When she had found Ulfban’s horse roaming, abandoned, Ramield was at first at a loss. The insane, enraged, and yet organized wolf pack was a lead, but she couldn’t be sure it was Ulfban. Even if it was not her, it was a problem that needed to be dealt with before it caused serious harm, more harm than Ulfban could do alone, even in her enraged state. Still, by the scorched map, Ramield assumed she would be heading north as well.
Gwaenor was exhausted as they emerge from the heavy wood around Nen Harn to the southeast. Ramield dismounted, letting the tired horse rest and drink from one of the small streams that fed the lake. She tested her bowstring and readied two arrows before skirting the southern edge of the lake. The sight she came upon was gruesome: a writhing pack of wolves, seemingly ready to be at each other’s throats, but yet somehow restrained. The stench of rancid blood, death, and sweat, wafted over on the slight breeze from upwind of her, overwhelming Ramield’s senses and nearly causing her to gag. Striding though the pack, unphased by the bloodthirsty wolves, was a woman wearing leather and furs. Her appearance was much like that of a Guaradain, except her markings were like none she had ever encountered before and painted in blood which was now dry and cracking. Through the blood and rage and wild hair and eyes, Ramield recognized the features of Ulfban. The grief that had plagued her fueled her current overpowering rage.
Ramield sighed, placed her arrows back in her quiver, and turned, following the shadows back to her horse. She did not know if there was anything she could for Ulfban, not here at least, but there were some she could help, who needed to be warned. The pack seemed to have stopped for now, which gave her some time. Taking Gwaenor’s reigns, she walked with her around the lake as stealthily as she could lead them. It did not take them long to reach Lin Giliath. She handed Gwaenor to the stablemaster and headed for the library. Inside, she did not find who she expected to see. “Well met, Gildor, but where is Lachenn?” she asked, slipping comfortably into her native tongue. Gildor looked up from his musings, smiling brightly. “Ah, Ramield, a star shines upon the hour of our meeting. It has been too long and I am glad to see you here again. Will you be joining us on our pilgrimage?”
“I’m surprised you have not already left, for we are quite into spring. I regret that, once again, I will not be able to join your company. It would be wondrous to see the tower hills again.”
“Pity; we are once again deprived of your voice and songs, too rarely heard already. We intend to leave on the morrow if you should change your mind.”
“It would be best if you left tonight.” Her tone became serious again. “There is a pack of ravenous wolves, possibly nigh one hundred, coming up from the south; your company and anyone here should be well away by the time they arrive.”
Gildor paused, a concerned look on his face. “This…is disturbing news. Are you sure they are coming here, and if so, how soon?”
“They could be here in as little time as it takes for them to round Nen Harn. When I reached this side, they appeared to still be there, but I am not sure for how long. They are headed farther north and east, to Angmar. This brings me back to my first question: where is Lachenn?”
“He is away at the moment, and will not return for some time. The rangers should be warned as well.”
“Indeed; those not going with you to Emyn Beraid should make for Esteldin while your company should head west with all haste, going either through Trestlebridge or through Evendim and south through the Shire. As long as you are out of her path, you should be able to avoid an unpleasant fate.”
“Her?” Gildor laughed quietly, his mirth repressed by the circumstances. “Another one of your long stories, I wonder?”
Ramield returned with a tired chuckle. “You don’t know the half of it,” she replied, using the Common phrase before slipping back into Sindarin. “Though, in this tale, I am but the observer, playing hardly any role until now. Perhaps one day you shall hear it, this tragic tale.”
Gildor nodded and left to prepare the elves of Lin Giliath for their departure. Ramield followed, helping to inform people of the danger. As they were passing the stable, she stopped him. “If any are willing, I will be staying try to slow or stop the advance and could use some help. Also, if those going to Esteldin could take Gwaenor with them, I would appreciate it. I have friends who will look after him for me until I come, if I do. However…” Her voice lowered with the last few words and she fixed Gildor with a look that carried an unspoken request. He nodded solemnly. “I will see to it.”
They parted, Gildor continuing with hasty preparations while Ramield went to Gwaenor. She kissed him and rubbed his neck as she spoke to him. “Get plenty of rest when you reach Esteldin, ok? And if you hear howls behind you, take whoever is with you and run as hard as you can.” The stallion lipped at her shoulder affectionately and Ramield smiled. “Be careful” she whispered before giving him a last pat and retrieving her extra quiver and other small things she could carry. She gave him a final kiss on the neck before trotting off to find whoever might join her. She remembered a spot on the northern shore of the lake with sizable trees, a narrow area that the wolves would have to pass through. As she watched the elves assembling, she was joined by two others. Nodding appreciatively, she discussed her thinking with them, pointing out the trees where they would be stationed; she herself would be in the first the pack would encounter, the others slightly to the west of her. “And if the woman who is with them gets five yards past us,” she paused, “stop her if you can, but try not to kill her please. If we can disable her, it should be enough. I hope it does not come to that.” One nodded; the second looked over at the first with a concerned look before also agreeing. Ramield nodded. “Thank you both. Let us hope we are enough to make an impact.”
The three separated and climbed the tall trees. Ramield watched from above as the elves streamed out and up the road. Soon, the elven refuge was silent but for the sound of birds and beasts and the howling of wolves in the distance.
