Found:
1 large tome - bound with thick leather. Faded. Still in good repair.
1 gem encrusted silver chalice,
Nan Dhelu went quite well for me, I must say!
There were a few hairy moments, granted. Dealing with Gaunt Lords and their ilk is not a precise thing. Certainly, the wights are easy enough to handle provided I don't let myself get surrounded by them, but their masters are another matter entirely. I can hold my own, yes, but I'm no warrior, leaving me with the option of applying certain tricks and hoping that they hold! Music tames the savage beast, as they say, and it works surprisingly well with these creatures too... as long as one gets the pitch correct. I'm no great bard by any means; I can barely tell which string is which on a lute and my voice could never be likened to that of a lark. I do have quite a good vocal range however, and it has stood me in good stead many times over the years. How lucky was I to accidentally learn such a ploy so early in my career!
My foe stood transfixed, as I'd hoped it would, until I could get close enough to slip a blade beneath its ear. It was only then that I dared turn my attention to its sanctuary. A weathered depression in the wall was a perfect fit for that sigil of mine; a key for a lock, crafted by means well beyond my understanding. It revealed to me a vault, or a perhaps a shrine from the way the book and chalice sat so neatly upon a dais. I would have liked to have spent more time studying this little hidden area, but I'm neither greedy or stupid. I took what I needed and left before the Gaunt Lord could rise anew. I've not the means to kill those things permanently, after all. My tricks only disable them for a time and that, again, differs from one to the next or so I have found.
On into the Trollshaws then, where I eventually made camp in a charming little clearing that boasted three trolls long since turned to stone. The weathering on their solid hides suggested they had been this way for quite some time. The likelihood of them reverting to their natural state come nightfall was infinitesimal, so there I stayed for the eve. I had planned to depart come the next sunrise, but as I lounged there enjoying the morning sun, I was joined by a familiar face.
I had assumed simple coincidence, but when asked, he admitted that he'd followed me here, tracking my footsteps and, for a time at least, watching from afar. He professed a wish for me to feel appreciated by his actions and, I must admit, a small part of me does. The rest of me remains deeply suspicious though I've gone to great pains to hide it from him.
He is a handsome man, a wanderer and sometime bard or scholar, though he has no liking for the places I frequent. Sweet words drip from his tongue like honey and that alone would be enough to make me wary, but his stalking of my path suggests a further purpose. What is he after?
No Ranger-man he, seeking to reclaim something I have picked up along my way. Those condescending creatures would rather shoot one of my ilk than hold a conversation, though on occasion they do like to bore me with dire warnings about how I shall be cursed to break my nails daily if I continue on this path. Besides, I've never heard tell of a Ranger from Rohan. Has he been sent by another then? To recover something or learn some secret his employer thinks that only I can tell? The former is possible. The latter strikes me as too far-fetched and egotistical to consider with any real seriousness.
He lies sleeping next to me as I muse, peaceful in repose and so very pretty.
I suspect the best course of action is to keep him close until I can discern more. He has already proven that he can find me should I run, and it is better to be able to keep an eye on him than find myself suddenly bristling with arrows from an unseen source. In the meantime, of course, we can amuse one another in more earthly ways; I have missed the warmth of a body beside mine.
Yarassi can be my companion, then... at least until I discover his true purpose.
