Written as part of the unfolding plot of Northern Charter
Author’s Note: This piece was shaped with a little help from AI. It provided assistance on things like the structuring, some names, shortening some verbose language/ideas as I'd written, and gave me the odd turn of phrase here and there. The heart and shape of the story are my own, but I realise it is important to be transparent about my use of AI support in producing it ultimately.
Diary of Naridalis
Written in camp at Ost Forod, Evendim
The North Downs have not healed.
They remain wide and open, yes, and the light falls clean upon the grass in places, but it is a wounded light. And the soil remembers. Even the wind feels heavier there. We passed battle-sites so old the stones had forgotten the names carved into them, and yet I felt the press of things not laid to rest. The trees in the gullies stand at angles too sharp to be born of storm. The grass on the old road leans in a direction opposite the wind.
There are places in that country where you can feel watched, and know with certainty that no one follows. It is not memory alone that clings to that land. It is malice.
We said little on the journey. Ivy kept our course, quiet and sure. Caramip was ever just ahead, pointing out birds and broken walls. She brought what cheer she could. But even her laughter did not seem to echo. Both Tayschren and Vaedhral had gone on ahead by then, some hours earlier. I did not ask why; I think they made a game of it, of scouting ahead… perhaps to take their minds of this place…
We reached the barrow near the edge of Fornost’s fieldstone. It rose crooked from the earth, its flanks lashed with wind-blown weeds, the stones about it jutting like teeth from a withered jaw. You could see, even from a distance, that it was no natural rise. The ground bent around it, like water parting around a rock that has no business being there.
Ivy recognised it. How all others except that barrow was sacred earth. She said it was the barrow of Êsherzôn. A traitor buried with honour until his deeds were unearthed. One who once stood as a Captain among the Free Peoples, then turned to Sauron’s side in the days when the world broke apart. His body lies entombed there still, untouched. His name is not honoured. It is remembered only so that none stray too close. The tomb left to fester and be forgotten.
We had not meant to draw close. The path would have curved round it, clean and cautious. But I strayed.
I did not think myself reckless. I only stepped aside to mark the slope, perhaps to glance closer at the stones. A habit of the road. One step, then another. Ivy warned me. Calm, but firm. I turned to rejoin them. And that was when I fell.
I remember the moment clearly, though the moments after are blurred. It felt as if the very air had seized upon me. My limbs moved, but slowly, like I had sunk into deep water. There was nothing underfoot to trip me, no curse I could name. Only a weight. And then a will.
I tried to rise. I could not. My mind had already begun to descend. I dropped to my knees. Not from pain. Not even from panic. But because something inside me faltered. As though my body had changed allegiance without telling me.
And in my mind, I was falling still.
Image created by AI
Drawn down into something wide and dark and wordless. I could not see it, and yet I felt it surrounding me. Not like shadow, but like water. Ancient. Immovable. It made no sound. It made no demand. It simply wanted.
It wanted me to go forward. Not around the barrow, but into it. Through the arch of stone, past the withered grass, down into whatever lay within. It did not promise pain. Or glory. It did not speak at all. It expected.
I do not remember what held me back. Whether it was my own resolve, or the call of Ivy’s voice, or the press of Caramip’s small hand near mine. I remember standing, slowly. I walked. I said I was fine.
But I am not fine.
I have not shaken the feel of that moment.
Something tried to reach me. Something that believes it has a claim.
And for a breath, just one, I believed it.
--
//There is a pause in the ink, a breath held in the white space between the last line and the margin. A smear suggests the quill hovered too long before the next word was written.//
--
Evendim was beautiful when we entered it. The mists parted at the gate, and the land opened up in pine and rock and cold clarity. The sun shone. I should have felt lighter. But I did not.
After a time, Ost Forod stood before us as a splintered fort of stone, its towers half-shattered, thought its firepits tended to again. Soldiers now walk its paths. Gondorian standards hang from scaffold and arch. There is order here, and purpose. The King’s reach grows stronger in these hills once more.
Ivy seemed steadier once we arrived. She had been quiet on the road, withdrawn, yet sure in her steps. She had spoken earlier of her husband, how she had not heard from him in some time. I think she hoped for word here.
She received something. A soldier met her near the gate. He bore the Tree of Gondor on his cloak and handed her a wrapped object, parchment, or perhaps cloth. They spoke in low tones. When he left, she stood still for some time, turning the thing over in her hands.
She said nothing to us. But her silence held shape. The sort that follows knowing.
I do not know what was said. But I know it changed something in her.
--
We are safe here, for a time. The stores are strong. The watch is kept. But I do not feel safe. Not after Êsherzôn. Not after whatever reached for me on that barrow-field.
I carry no scar. No mark. Yet something has nested behind the edges of my thought. I cannot name it. I cannot banish it.
I should not have felt what I felt.
I should not have heard that silence.
The road ahead will ask more of us than the road behind, I fear. We are worn already. We will need supplies, perhaps more companions. A caravan north, if we are fortunate.
But that is not a matter for tonight.
Tonight, we rest. We sharpen blades. We count rations. We breathe. And we hope that when next the dark reaches for one of us, it finds no purchase.
I was not taken.
But I was almost willing to be.
Image created by AI
[The story continues in Northern Charter]
