At the little cottage in the village of Hamglen, Zavas sat long leafing through tomes that mostly had little to do with the cause of the errand that had brought a group of their company to the doorstep of the Ered Luin this forthmoon past. His thought was divided into a myriad of concerns and to set focus on a well accustomed task of the mind always helped him to arrange what was needed most at the hour. But this time it didn’t quite work. A jumble of images, memories, worries and plain confusion cast a fog over his attempts, a fog that too much resembled the one he had encountered one too many times already with his new friends. Zavas sighed and let wander a tired glance at the bottles of Dorwinion wine they had brought from the Elves' quiet fair enclave. Ah, they were still well sealed, so that was not the problem. He leaned back and massaged his bound shoulder, humming a song of his Kin in the days of old yonder in Durin’s day. Now really. He better get a firm hold on himself before he sought once more the tavern of the Thirsty Boar where Fiontann likely awaited report of their travels. Let us start with the beginning he reprimanded himself.
A series of curious if not to say evil minded deeds in the Bree lands had caught the attention of the Black Steel, this rough and ready company of unlikely folk gathered and united in their desire to build, protect and surely also to adventure. He had stumbled right into a scene of betrayal and murder, found himself thrown onto a battlefield of some sorts, though as it turns out the things that now troubled their company can not be cut with sword or axe as eased as one would wish to. From a cavern he had taken tomes of unknown origin. Had spent weeks walking among the learned of the Bree lands asking for advice and was hurried off more often than not. Frustration and fear spread among those that also were witnesses and so it was decided that they would seek help from those most deeply learned. He had sent word ahead to his daughter who took it on herself to use what lore the Halls offered though everything was to be kept among a trusted few.
The road towards west he remembered soundly. Joyous it was up through Buckland and the lands beyond the river Baranduin, their company received one more wayfarer that seemed interesting indeed, now two men of peculiar past rode at his side, though little time they had to get yet acquainted. That joy lasted until they made to rest at a fork of paths called Waymeet. Zavas grimaced and shook his head while recalling their travel. There were images of a swift flight through boglands near the border to the blue mountain lands, a chill that still gripped his heart here at the warm hearth of his own retreat, a wild dog beast that first seemed poor, then evil, tamed by the man from afar, then vanished into thin air. Oh that piercing pain in his head. Here lies the origin of thy confusion old beard. He could make no sense of the happenings at all, still not.
In the elven lands they were welcomed by a fair one he remembered as Mornenion and invited to make use of his vast library. There Miss Cedwyn and the young thief with her new horse long laboured among the tomes as he searched within the lore houses of Duillond and his homestead in the Hall. The women found what he could not! – a hint a word, a name to the evil that was now following them for reasons that Zavas himself yet only guessed. An ancient lore of men it seems had caught hold of them, something he believed or rather wished to have withered in the world. What now was to be done only a council of the company could decide. But act they would have to. Too close yet rang the word of the culprit on the western road close to Bree: “Beware and do not interfere or you shall regret”, as on the road he huffed with dismissal. Fool indeed he would be at his age to believe the words of tainted deception. His shoulder spoke more truth.
Zavas stood and walked to gaze outside the wooden framed window. Yes let a council be called. To have such clear aim I can now let my thoughts wander to matters not less important but less pressing. His daughter had seemed grown since last he beheld her, not in sight but in heart and mind. Did he burden her too much with his plea for help before he himself came to assist with it? Did not she had own worries, weighty enough for him to have set out on the travel that brought him to Bree in the first place? Yes, the road to Gondor was still calling, the search for the dwarf gone astray, but when and how to tread it he could not yet foresee. He longed to further travel from thence and see again the lands of Erebor and beyond north the kingdoms of old that his forefathers wandered and claimed. There his tomb shall lie if all goes as he planned at present. Zavas smiled under his beard. Well it was to encounter old friends again, Thrasi the mischievous, sending his little travel group on a wild goose hunt for brew in the woods around the settlement of Gondamon the rugged beauty. My, his belly still ached from laughing when he finally understood. To be among dwarfs is something else, he explained to his puzzled companions, ye take it or ye leave it but ye will never change it. And never I would! He exclaimed out loud though still alone. Time then, to head for the Boar. And time to give to Fiontann the proposal for another errand to the company that too was given to him in the fair and far Blue Mountains.
