The Household of Bar-en-Acharn had not held council for over a month, given both the inclement weather and the far-flung errantries they had undertaken. Now, however, this particular afternoon saw members of the Household gathered together, sharing a meal in the Grand Hall of Torech Besruth. Seated around the red table, they indulged in an ample feast of venison and assorted cheeses and breads.
The hobbit Applecider bustled about, topping off tankards and clearing away plates to make room for more. The warrior-maid Iyenue conversed quietly with Ingrasion. Kortheod, the wandering poet, tucked into the feast with great appetite, and shared witty banter with Applecider when she passed by. Gilberian, true to her mischievous nature, stealthily approached the table and was not noticed until she spoke, giving a few there a start.
Looking over the assembly sat Lady Seregrían at her accustomed place at the head of the table, tucking in aggressively to a heaped plate of venison and downing a goblet of Duillond Red wine. She spoke between mouthfuls, giving praise to her companions.
“I wish to offer my thanks to you, Master Ingrasion,” she was saying. “You have never failed to entertain both House and guests with your talents, and for these I am grateful.” Ingrasion nodded, smiling and raising his glass.
“And I would of course give my thanks to you, Iyenue, and you, Applecider. Both of you have been steadfastly present for all our activities, and I would show my appreciation.”
“Well, I been tryin' ter keep the pub stocked,” Applecider said, “so take what'cha need -- just send a message when ya do so I refill it!” Iyenue nodded over her goblet in appreciation for the kind words.
“But now,” Seregrían said, “I wish to make an announcement, a little thing, really...”
“The Bolgers finally beat the Tooks at Hobnanigans??” Applecider said brightly.
Seregrían smiled. “A new house, the Guard of Weathertop, has expressed an interest in visiting us. They have recently formed, and their leaders are very outgoing, especially the Lady Aldalen.”
“Oh, nize!” Applecider exclaimed, “I'll make more beer!”
“Iyenue, since you are well acquainted with the Lady Aldalen, I hoped you might consider playing hostess for a day?” Seregrian asked.
“Certainly M'lady, I can do that,” Iyenue replied.
“How many Guards from Weathertop?” Applecider asked, “I needs ter know how much pie ter bake.”
“One would think it doesn't take many to guard that ruin...” Gilberian said slyly, making Applecider chuckle into her tankard.
"They keep a close eye on the lands to the east of Bree, the Lone Lands, not just Amon Sûl," Iyenue countered.
“As I said,” Seregrían said, “they are a young House, setting out on their first efforts; I think it proper we assist them, if nothing else than with hospitality.”
”They might be counted as a precious ally, in good time,” Iyenue offered.
Seregrían pushed her chair back, steeling herself for her next words. “But now, my friends, we turn to a matter of supreme importance, both to the House, and to me personally. I have received a startling batch of tidings - which changes for me the shape of the world.”
“Didn't the Valar do that already once?” Applecider quipped. Iyenue chuckled into her tankard.
“She wasn't born then,” Gilberian joined. “Oh wait, yes you were...”
“As I was saying...” Seregrían said in an exasperated voice, but belied by her own grin, “A friend of our House, one Captain Teahesto, brought to me the news…” here she took a deep breath, “my betrothed, Cutch, is still alive!” After an astonished beat of silence, voices rose all at once around the table.
“I beg your pardon?” Iyenue said, “but I thought you buried him!?"
Applecider smacked her forehead, “I so called this!!”
Kortheod and Ingrasion were shocked to silence, and Gilberian simply stammered out, “It’s been months, what is this tale!?”
“Applecider, I know that you and dear Lancogard labored long and dangerously finding out the truth,” Seregrían said, “But I now have it on good authority that Cutch feigned his own death.”
”Aye, I en't guaranteeing more'n one lad's getting slapped with a cold fish, soon as we meet,” Applecider said gruffly. “E'nt guaranteein' Mister Sir Halros's safety either …”
“Yes, I suspect so,” Seregrían said, “and none moreso than Cutch himself, when we meet again. But my friends, this is the tale in brief, as I understand it:
“Cutch,” she began, “was in the service of the Dúnedain Rangers, seeking tidings of a threat to good folk coming from the Wildwood. All that was known was a name: The Black Star.”
“This is a very strange story,” Gilberian said. “Didn't he think about telling you? Making any attempt to reassure?”
“He be a Gent, Miss Gilly,” Applecider said in an aside, “and as such, they gots a deplorable habit fer failin' ter communicate…”
“As I am given to know, there wasn't time,” Seregrían said. “This Black Star had dispatched an assassin to kill Cutch - and any connected to him; but Cutch found him first. He and the Rangers published the news that the assassin had succeeded. They even disguised the corpse to resemble Cutch - that was the body that was found north of Brockenborings and buried with his name.”
“Well, one thing is certain,” Gilberian said firmly, “If I'm getting married it's to a settled elf sire. No need for those Dúnedain bad boys...”
Seregrían smiled slightly, then continued, “The fact that Lancogard and Applecider pursued their investigation with such gusto, led strength to the deception. And this left Cutch free to operate in the Wildwood without pursuit. Now, I dispatched Sûlpadron to find Cutch and get a message to and from him; but that was several days past. I wish to find out for myself; that is why I intend to go myself to the Wildwood and learn what goes on.”
“If I may, Your Ladyship, this could be a trap,” Iyenue pointed out.
“This is true,” Seregrían said, “which is why Sûlpadron is bringing tidings of my own.”
“How is it that no contact was made directly to you by him?” Iyenue asked.
“You can see the situation,” Seregrían explained, “if Cutch, being thought dead, was to send any messages, it may have exposed him to the Black Star once more.”
Iyenue thought about this, then said, “Then a vanguard would be a thoughtful approach, have you considered this?”
“Dear friends, this is something personal to me,” Seregrían said, “and I would understand your hesitation. I am going to the Wildwood: alone if needs must. But I would hope some, or all of us, might come as well - I do not command.”
Gilberian began ticking off her fingers. “Oh, let’s think on this: the Black Star; an assassin, unknown foes. Pretty hesitant, indeed! But, if we must do it, we must, mustn’t we?”
“I would be honored to accompany you as your vanguard,” Iyenue said.
Seregrían smiled, but then turned serious. “Know this: I want my dear one restored to me. And I will burn the Wildwood, and this Black Star, to cinders to find him. This, then, is my plan: in five days, we shall depart, making our way to the Breelands.”
“I shall still accompany you in this mission,” Iyenue said, “though I have a bad feeling about this being a trap.”
“If it is a trap,” Seregrían glowered, “they shall find no more dangerous prey than I.”
Gilberian smiled grimly. “Where shall be our first step on this quest, Your Ladyship?” she asked.
”There is a camp - the locals call it Adso's,” Seregrian said.
“I have heard of this,” Gilberian said, “it is just beyond the Brandywine, on the near side of Bree itself.”
“I had thought to reach this camp,” Seregrían went on, “then turn north into the wood - these was once a road, ancient of days, that traversed that land.”
“I know of it, it's quite close to my house in the forest,” Iyenue offered.
“The region was once part of the old lands of Arthedain,” Seregrían said, “dotted with towers and strong places, similar to the Stone Necklace - of which we are already familiar. My friends,” she said as she rose from her chair, the others standing as well, “I bid you all search your own counsels - I shall go in five days. Join me at dawn, should you decide.”
Has Love Survived? <===> The Rescue Mission...
