It was night time and Lusseriel was sitting at the light of a campfire, her notebook in her laps, and her backpack nearby.
“I picked up my journal again at the end of a long adventure.
Yesterday I met with many people in Echad Mirobel. There was Wyck of course, and the lovely dog Oates, Archangar, Aireliniel, Tindollion, Candath, Annag, Julliana, Rhaon, Andrahir... Tindollion seemed well enough. Candath had a new armour. So did Wyck. Oates was looking far more healthy.
It seems our company was fated to meet sooner than I thought, and with new members at that. Well, new for me at least.
Alas, it wasn't a social call.
As we gathered together, Wyck told us :
"Thank you all for coming! I'm glad to see so many o' us 'ere. We're 'eading south as ye know, but our plans 'ave... changed... 'I was intending to take the greenway gate south of Tharbad but it's 'eld by servants of the white hand. It would be foolish to attack it straight on. There is a ford to the east, we should make 'aste there un' cross before the night gets too dark. I hope ye've brought weapons un' armour. We're 'eadin into lands 'eld by the enemy. Saddle up, un' make yerselves ready - we ride through the night."
And we did. We rode and crossed a river, left Eregion to enter Enedwaith. We rested near a hut for a while. Then we rode to the greenway, to find people among the ruins. And not friendly ones.
A ranger found us there and came to talk to us. Balkamir was his name. He was injured.
I hesitated. I know little about human healing. For all I know, by attempting to heal him, I could poison him. However as luck had it, Arcangar had some knowledge and offered to tend to the man's wound. Good. I prefer it that way.
Humans are so fragile... Infection and illness can set in, to say nothing of allergies.
Not even counting their reaction sometimes to plants. For all I know a perfectly fine dose of... Let's say foxglove for an elf could kill a man. I don't want to kill our allies by stupidity induced mistake. Healing is finicky that way.
Anyway, Arcangar was here and took over healing this time.
In the meantime, Balkamir reported to us that he and his companion had been attacked, and his peer, Aelthrandir, was taken.
And it's true what Wyck said then: if they took him alive they had a purpose higher than banditry. And considering the current situation, we couldn't risk it. We had to do something.
And the something seemed to be mounting a rescue.
Wyck suggested that we separate and attack on two fronts.
Balkamir left us to our planning, and I hope he managed to go back to safety on his own. And we went in two groups, to attack the ruins in which the dunlendings made their camp.
And we found Aelthrandir.
He was injured, and bound, but alive. He was sitting in a pool of blood, eyes blackened, nose broken, clothing in disrepair.
Upon noticing this, Wyck reacted: "He's grievously wounded!.. Luss.. I know ye aren't.. er, would ye' 'ave a look at im?"
The definition of "not a healer"?
I get the feeling I'll need far more information on human biology before the end of this. I'll see if I can find human healers soon to get some basic information. Or a book on human biology. Or something. Or I fear I'll end up poisoning someone I meant to save.
As our luck had it, Aelthrandir recognized Andrahir, that facilitated our exchanges and escape greatly.
Candath warned us that more Dunlending were coming, and we needed to go as soon as possible, which... really? Here I thought we should stay a fortnight, you know, visit and all. Camping in the middle of a camp of beings who want you dead is such a great way to pass the time...
Arcangar said that he couldn't help with those wounds alas, which didn't arrange me at all. By the look of his uneven pupils, he had a concussion, at least.
I know how to help elves with concussions, but men? What if he sleeps and dies. Or doesn't sleep and die? Or bleeds internally. Or something?
I asked him if he could move if we helped him, and luckily for us, yes he could. Which was great news. Andrahir and I helped him walk, while the others of the company, bless them, kept the dunlending out of our way.
Arcangar said that he needed the help of an expert, and needed to get back to the elven lands.
No. Quite frankly, no.
In said elven lands, the closest place to ours where I knew for sure that a human could be treated safely was Imladris. In his condition, it'd take more days of travel than usual, and it's not the various little camps in Eregion that could provide that level of healing. Sure they'd provide protection, but I'd feel far better if we could find him human healers, or healers of any race specialized in human healing.
The kind of healer who wouldn't accidentally poison him by just using a draught harmless for elves or dwarves that could somehow be deadly to humans for example.
We fled the ruins and I dearly hope my companions did as much damage as possible there.
We stopped for a few in the wood.
The poor man looked quite beaten up.
Andrahir gave Aelthrandir some miruvor, and I'm somewhat glad he had some, or is that Candath who had it? In any case, it's good.
Aelthrandir seemed to know the area well, better than us in any case, and told us of a secluded area that might be safer. Across the bridge, south of our position.
Well, overall, by my reckoning, but again, I'm not all that great with human biology, he was bruised from head to toe, had a broken nose, a concussion, perhaps mild, perhaps not mild, I'm not too sure, but he'll recover. Also a deeper wound that Andrahir treated with Athelas.
I love when people who know what they’re actually doing take over. He should do that more often. I encourage him wholeheartedly.
I had salves for our new friend’s injuries, and a willow bark tincture for the pain. I gave the lot to him, he'll need it until he can get to a competent healer. I don't think there's much risk with the salve and tincture I gave him.
Conclusion of the discussion that went far above my head there, the Greenway fort needed to be dealt with, or its inhabitants at least, and they needed to be stopped from spreading further into the land if at all possible.
But at least Andrahir selected to not get on it right now with someone injured and unarmed with us.
We got to the bridge, and Aelthrandir led us to the secluded area, near a village of men. No idea if they were friendly or not.
We rested there for a short time, while debating our next move.
Wyck informed us that some of the scouts are camped in Harndirion. They probably had healers and the best option we had for our friend.
We decided to split up somehow. Some of us to stay there. The rest of us went to Harndirion :
Wyck reminded us of our goal. I believe his words were: "We mustn't forget our chief mission 'ere. We are to aid the scouts in clearing the way. It was mentioned that scores of wights has risen in the lich-bluffs. We need the most strength in the south. I will go back un' find Balkamir and the scouts in the windfellls. I will take with me... Aireliniel - if ye are willing? The rest of ye - go to harndirion. Make sure it's safe."
And so it’s what we did.
We moved out soon after Wyck and Aireliniel departed.
We tried to stay discrete on the way, between the wargs and the half-orcs... And we managed to arrive without further injuries.
Harndirion was once a watchtower of the dunedain. Now it laid in ruins. Thankfully there was a camp there, and as we approached, we noticed a ranger coming toward us. A fellow elf.
"Finally, some friendly faces!" Said Andrahir.
Honestly, I too was glad to see that the camp was well used by our allies so...
"Suilad, mhellyn! We’re glad you’ve made it. I am Maegolir, one of the scouts in lord Elladan’s retinue. I was sent to assist the scouts here before the grey company rides south, but. I fear that my help hasn’t been enough."
Our mystery friend had a name.
And noticed Aelthrandir's state and called the healers, bless him!
Two rangers rushed over to us and took over, helped Aelthrandir to get toward the tents, thankfully.
While Candath told Maegolir how we came to come here, I overheard Annag ask Arcangar : "how did we fall in with so many elves?"
I wanted to say so badly that it's what happens when you meet people on an elven territory. Chances are that you'll meet elves there... Alas, I know my tongue can be too sharp sometimes. So I really tried to ignore their conversation, though if they don't want elves to overhear them, next time they should go a bit farther away with their unpleasant opinions.
And considering Rhaon's face, I'm not the only one who noticed.
Maegolir led us to a campfire, for food, drink and rest. The rangers around the camp looked tired, but otherwise fine and even friendly enough.
The conversation was mostly catching up on our recent misadventures for a moment until Maegolir said the words that herald trouble:
"I know you have not rested long but please would you follow me, we have a situation I think you all should be made aware of..."
Why did this company attract trouble like that? What in our combined luck made it so bad?
But I, like the others, followed him, up the stairs.
As we walked past him, I heard Aelthrandir say : "Thank you all again for getting me here. I hope the rest of your journey goes well". Well, I dearly hope the rest of his journey will go well too, and that he'll recover quickly.
Honestly, the view from up there was breathtaking. I wouldn't want to accidentally fall off our perch however. I’m relatively sure the landing would hurt.
Tirnelion joined us there.
Maegolir told us:
"Over there lie Dunland, and to the west beyond those hills is Minhiriath. Vedged between is our obstacle - the Lich bluffs. Those spires there, a ruin of the dunedain, goes by the name Ost Dunhoth."
Alright, ominous.
Tirnelion added that it was the Fortress of the Western Host. That was interesting certainly.
And when Rhaon asked "who occupies it now?" we got an answer I truly hate : "That's the bad news."
No. Do not, ever, answer such a question like that. That heralds Trouble with a capital T.
Maegolir pointed down into the valley, where we could perceive figures shambling about the barrows and standing stones and said: "An army of wights, raised against us."
I request a holiday, somewhere calm, safe, with books, and without moving corpses guarding anything and ready to try and kill me.
Maegolir told us that: "They weren’t there when we got here. Three nights ago, I was out here watching the road to Dunland. I saw a lone woman coming up the road from the bluffs. I couldn’t see who she was or what her purpose was in the darkness, but I now know where she went."
Maegolir pointed at Ost Dunhoth in the distance. "See that glow? It appeared a few hours later, and then the wights started rising... One of the scouts went to investigate... but didn’t return."
And my charming companions started to consider who they knew able to raise the dead. And that would be the witch-king of Angmar.
He'd be a bit far from home but it's not impossible. But if a wraith is here...
Maegolir confirmed that he has yet to see a servant of the White Hand capable of such magic, which didn't fill me with confidence.
Arcangar said then that: Saruman didn’t believe in the value of that sort of power for he believed his own power to be the peak of magical abilities.
Which... Might be true.
But then, how much do *we* know about Saruman's powers? We don't even know how long he's hidden his treachery! He has an army at his disposal. An army isn't raised in a single day. For all we know, he hid his deeds for years and grew his powers and studied disturbing magic for as long.
Maegolir then told us the following: "Friends, whatever darkness lie in wait in that terrible place. I would not ask any of you to come with me. There's no shame in walking away, for what I ask is to face a most powerful servant of the enemy, whoever they are."
Thing is, you don't live as long as I have without learning a thing. The servants of the enemy, whichever it is at any given time, are always powerful. And if everyone avoids confrontation with them, then they win, and everyone is lost. I'm not the fighter my parents were, or my leaders at some point, but I know enough to survive, and perhaps one more sword can make a difference.
And so my decision was easy, if possibly a tiny bit suicidal.
But then my decision to cross the Moria and accept to deliver letters in Mirkwood were as bad for health’s sake and I took those decisions for far less logical reasons so...
Arcangar stayed, so did Tindollion and Tirnellion. I don't blame them there, the day was long, night was falling and it looked like it wasn't over by any mean.
On an idea of Maegolir, we rode straight for Ost Dunhoth. It worked and avoided us possibly needless fights with the wights around.
Alas, from there, the gates were guarded by many wights.
We ran and fought our way in. Now that I think about it, it brought some not so fond memories back.
The scent of decay was strong in the courtyard. A row of black standing stones were visible higher up in the fortress, they were painted with sickly glowing runes. The script was clearly tengwar and the words, very clearly black speech of Mordor.
Apart from the sound of shambling wights, there was in the air a low voice chanting dark words in a guttural language. It came from higher up, near the central tower.
The wights wouldn't be our more pressing concern here.
We went to the top as quickly as we could, fighting the wights that were in our way.
A black numenorean "welcomed" us: "Welcome to Ost Dunhoth! This place will be your grave. I am Crothwyr, herald of Lugburz, servant of the eye! No Dunedain will go south, no traitor-kingdom rise again. Sauron has promised us the lands stolen from us in ages past, if we true Númenóreans but reach out and take them! Mat Armauk!"
As she spoke, wights began to emerge from everywhere. From behind ruined buildings, and crawling out of windows, stepping out from murky water of the pool...The low hum coming from the black stones grew in strength and seemed to make the air heavy and hard to breathe, and the wights seemed stronger.
It looked like there was hundred of them, and they circled us and stopped, waiting for the command of their master.
Maegolir called to her: "Coward! If you are as powerful as you claim, face us fairly!"
And she... to our advantage chose to "humour us".
Candath decided to fight her and I was certainly not going to stop him from doing so. Poor Threnduil looked like a heart attack wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibilities though.
Crothwyr was killed, I'm glad to report. And as she died and her power disappeared, the wight fell down, becoming mere corpses.
Andrahir said the following : "The strength of the Free Peoples did not falter today!"
True. But neither did the stench of the dead and honestly, animated or not, rotting corpse is still a terrible perfume, so I’d have greatly preferred it if we could have gone fast.
But that apart, the spell was broken with her death, the clouds in the sky disappeared; the air became somewhat more breathable though I resolutely don't want to think about what we were breathing in exactly.
Maegolir congratulated Candath on his heroic endeavor of getting us rid of that woman.
To which Candath nicely cursed himself the foolish elf as he answered: "It is not the first Black Numenorian I have faced, and as we are heading south... I think it will not be the last either."
I will remind him, if I'm around next time it happens, that HE ASKED FOR IT!
Also apparently he's injured.
I'm glad to say, after all this, the way back was far easier to walk."
Lusseriel nodded and looked around her, closing her journal. Soon she'd have to leave to bring the messages to the rangers as requested, but for now, she could rest and enjoy the peace and safety provided by the rangers in the camp.
