No one of note had entered the Forsaken inn for many hours, yet still Tothrandir sat in his same booth. It was right before he was going to head to the room prepared for him that he saw something that caught his eye.
A man with short, dark hair had entered the inn and was walking fast and sloppily toward the fire to dry off. His face seemed hard and cold, yet his eyes and movements were one of a man greatly distraught. Tothrandir watched him up and down for many moments, observing the way that he treated the young staffer as he asked for his order, to the way that he apathetically ripped out pages from a journal and threw them into the fire.
Jon was being watched as soon as he stepped into the inn. How he knew this, he could not guess, for he had always had strong senses and gut feelings. As he walked into the Forsaken inn, he immediately went to the fire to dry off, only to be met with a request for his drink order. "I need no drink right now, thank you. But I would like to ask you something," Jon said to the staffer. "Who is that man in the corner?" He asked, only raising his eyes slightly to see a bearded man wrapped in a hooded cloak staring at him. "That fellow, well he goes by the name Vuldian. Folk around here think him to be a Ranger, though no one knows for sure." Jon ran the name over in his mind; why would this Vuldian be watching him so intently? Was he planning on attacking him? Or was he a bounty hunter of sorts, here to kill Jon for his crimes in Rohan?
Quickly, Jon turned his attention to his journal, which he had been keeping for his entire journey North, and began to rip out the pages and throw them into the fire. Incriminating evidence was not a good thing to have when a bounty hunter could be right about to attack.
Tothrandir slowly packed up his things after watching the man for almost an hour, and moved toward his room slowly. The young man seemed nervous and would almost certainly follow him at this point, which is what Toth wanted. He knew who this man was, for staring at him for an hour had allowed for him to know. This was the man he was searching for.
Jon watched the hooded man pack up his things and move toward the boarding rooms. His confusion and anxiety were now ten times what they had been when he was riding out of Bree, for a man hunting you when you do not even know who you are is reason for anxiety.
It was this confusion and anxiety that led for him to follow the hooded man. Jon searched saw the only room with a light on, and slowly readied himself to kick the door down. His sword was at the ready, and he started to charge at the door. Right before he made contact with all his momentum, the door opened, and Jon tumbled inside, and hit the wall. Hard.
When Jon woke up from his unconciousness, he was tied to the bed. Before him stood the hooded man, silent and strong. "Who are you, then? Here to kill me?" asked Jon in a matter of fact way, trying to hide his fear. The hooded man remained silent. "How long have you been tracking me?" Jon asked, his fear beginning to show subtly. "Since you left Gondor, I have known about your whereabouts, Mr. Flint." the hooded man answered, his voice calm and firm.
This sent Jon's mind wandering all over the place. How had this man known to track him since he left Gondor, before he had even committed any of the crimes in Rohan? "Why are you tracking me? And how have you known all of my whereabouts?" asked Jon, his fear really betraying him now.
The man took a moment to answer, and slowly pulled up a chair to sit in. "I have my reasons, Jonduil. And I have friends in every part of Middle Earth, except for the far East and Mordor." Jon stayed silent, his mouth slightly ajar. "But my name isn't Vuldian like the staffer told you, and your name isn't Jonduil or Flint..." He then pulled down his hood, revealing a worn and handsome face, a head of dark hair, and piercing eyes.
"My name is Tothrandir, and your name is Taruin. And you are my son."
The man called Tothrandir looked just like Jon, except slightly older and more worn. But this was a bold statement to make, that this man was his father...
"I am sure you are quite confused, and I would expect you to be. You see, I used to reside in the lands of Gondor many years ago. And I had a wife there... named Marina." This name sent a bolt of electricity down Jon's spine, as it was the last word his adoptive father had ever uttered. Tothrandir continued, "Marina was a proud Gondorian woman, and I loved her very much. So much in fact, that she and I were expecting a son. Our love was short lived, however, as an orc raid on the place we lived separated our family." Jon looked for any flaws in the man's reasoning, but there did not seem to be any so far, as this added up to what the old man in Gondor had told him.
"I hunted that tribe of orcs for many years, but I could not find them. Eventually, I went North to start over. It was not until years later that I found out that Marina had survived her capture and had bore my son. And that you were both rescued by Gondorian soldiers near Dol Amroth. One of them who would adopt you entirely."
"I had my contacts in Gondor watch over you as you grew, and they contacted me with your information. And when you left, I was notified too."
Jon, or Taruin, for he did not know who he was now, was confused. Why did this make sense to him? It shouldn't, as this was a bold claim to make. "Why should I believe you?" he asked with a sense of urgency. "Do not ask me," Tothrandir said. "Ask the rohirric woman you know as Bryn. She can confirm it." Then, Tothrandir stooped down and cut his bonds free. "Meet me at the Comb and Wattle inn after you have talked to her, and we can talk as men." He then walked out of the room, pulled his cloak around his shoulders, and walked into the rainy night.
Jon wanted to follow him, but he was too shocked to move. And so he let the man who claimed to be his father walk away...
