(Archive) The Strange Adventures of Numandil, Naerdil, and Huan 1

Elendor - Saturday, April 01, 2000, 8:35 PM

Numandil aka Indilzar

Naerdil aka Aearwen

\"Ah, Naerdil,\" says Numandil wiping his hands together. He looks eagerly to the east, \"The time for setting out has come. Are you ready?\"

A nod of his head and then one last pouch is thrown across the back of the horse before his graceful form mounts the huge animal. Pulling the reins across his palms Naerdil looks to his kinsman and his reply is finally spoken, \"Yes. The time has come. Your lead Numandil.\"

The Lord Nimothan checks his horse once more and then spurs his horse eastward.

Gondor! Gondor between the Mountains and the Sea!

West wind blew there light upon the silver tree,

Fell like bright rain in the gardens of the Kings of old,

Oh proud walls white tower and throne of Gold!

Then he mounts again solemnly and then even as he rides eastward he says to his brother\'s son, \"The way is long as you know and little do the old maps help us. But our goal is clear enough.\"

Reining in his steed as his uncle bids farewell to Gondor, Naerdil is silent as oft is nature. Solemn eyes take in the massive great gate of the city and he brings his fingers to his lips in silent salute and promise.

\"It may be Naerdil that we shall not return hither,\" says Numandil. \"Gird yourself and we shall keep the stores fine. For our quest shall go further than any from this land have travelled in many years.\"

A grim smile curves the lips of the younger Nimothanian, \"The quest is in my blood uncle, thither I will go with you as long as there is life blood flowing in my veins.\"

To Erebor, where Dwarves yet dwell,

Beneath the hoary, Mirkwood Fell,

Through bryre and waste,

We ride in haste.

And whither then? We cannot tell!

With foes ahead, behind us dread,

Beneath the sky shall be our bed,

To Erebor, the Lonely Mount,

Beyond all miles count

The deep baritone of Naerdil joins his uncle in a well known song, his hand punctuates the words as he sings along. Thick, well muscled knees guide the horse with little effort, hands barely holding the reins as the massive steed glides over the land.

At the words of the Nimothan suddenly the great hound, Huan howls!

Glancing in the direction to which his uncle points, Naerdil studies the city across the river with interest. This being his first trip from Minas Tirith, the lad is eager to listen, learn and observe everything in site. \"When last were you here uncle?\" A quick tightening of hands on the reins as the great hound Huan sounds.

Naerdil leans forward in this saddle and eases the leg of his pants up, revealing a sheath holding an intricately carved dagger. Slow does his steed follow that of Numandil and the hound, eyes carefully perusing the horizon for anything amiss.

Numandil laughs, \"Well Huan. What a keen nose. But I fear that the snake will do us little harm.\"

A rich, deep laugh sounds as Huan runs out a snake, \"That dog of yours is a treasure. I dare say, he will have as many adventures as the two of us along the trail to Erebor.\"

A weary expression doth bear deep into the face of Naerdil, the journey will be one of growth for the scholarly lad as he learns of much more than book knowledge. Looking at Huan, his eyes note the pink tongue panting as the dog trots along side the steeds.\"He has done a good job of keeping up, I marvel at the animal.\"

Stiffly, Naerdil swings long, lanky legs and dismounts his steed. Taking a few halted steps he bends his knees and reaches to pat the head of the hound. Turning back towards his horse he smiles and reaches for a heavy pouch slung across the haunches, \"Food first is an excellent choice uncle. Take your rest and let me prepare us something.\"

This massive hound is grey-flanked with his smooth hair brushed neatly back. His Long snout and sharp teeth reveal his purpose, for this is a great wolf-hound, taken from his kennels in Dol Amroth to hunt for whatever beasts his master sets him to. Upon his long, thick neck there is a silver collar, and upon it are set these words, large enough to read if close enough: Huan of Dol Amroth, named after Huan of Valinor.

Bending down on haunches Naerdil rummages through the heavily laden pouch, setting a few things aside in his search. Satisfied with the provisions, he rises and goes to where his uncle rests. A carefully wrapped loaf of bread in a fine linen napkin is laid upon the ground, followed by a few strips of dried meat and two apples. A skin of wine is the last item added to the pile as he stretches his long body out and sighs deeply, \"Tis good to be on solid ground once more.\"

\"Tis not that I dislike riding uncle, time has not afforded me much chance to spend in the saddle.\" With those words said Naerdil rises, looking at his uncle with a bit of puzzlement, but following his lead.

Numandil turns to the West and bows solemnly, \"To Westernesse that is no more. To Aman that is hidden. To the One that is and always will be.\"

Properly chastised, Naerdil quickly drops his head, a tinge of colour spreading across his broad cheeks. Softly doth he repeat the words spoken by his uncle and then, \"But of course uncle, how remiss of me to have forgotten tradition in the midst of all this excitement.\"

Numandil then turns back to the \'feast\' and sits down. The horses linger nigh, eating the rich grass. He then says, \"Never forget Naerdil that you are a Man of Gondor and that beyond all means: Truth, Humility and Fealty.\" He then smiles and then reaches into his pack and pulls out a small mandolin and strums it idly, \"I imagine however that by the time we get back your body shall be hardened by long months in the wild.\"

Numandil picks up a strip of meat and eats it gingerly.

Tearing at the tough strips of meat with ivory teeth, Naerdil chews contentedly as he leans back on one elbow and watches his uncle. The sweet sounds of the mandolin soothing as they sound in the relative still of the evening. A long sip of wine is taken from the pouch before he brings voice to words again, relaxation wiping the weary expression from his travel worn face. \"Truth, Humility and Fealty. Tis hard to imagine either of those words without the other, is it not? And I dare say, I will be as tough as the leather we chew by the time....-if- we return to Gondor.\"

Shaking his head Naerdil says, \"Nay. I have not looked at the course of our trip. Perhaps we should go over the trail to our destination in case there is trouble or should we become separated from one another.\" A shiny dagger is brought forth and deftly slices the apple into quarters and cored. Crunching into the firm flesh, the younger Nimothan glances over as Huan returns to the campsite.

Quietly does Naerdil study the map, silvery grey eyes following the lines as his uncle points to several places of interest. Nodding his head in agreement as travel to the eastern side of the Great River is mentioned. Eyes raise slowly to the countenance of Numandil, studying him for a long moment before he asks, \"And our quest ends in Erebor?\"

Numandil nods grimly and says, \"Yes, but that is a long way off and we are likely to have many adventures ere we come to the Lonely Mountain. For if we go this route then we must find a way through the perilous Mirkwood. If we get that far.\"

A look of confusion clouds the eyes of Naerdil for a moment and then he asks, \"What is the nature of our quest Uncle? Mention of destination, places along the way and the dangers thither do not give information as to the -reason- for this journey.\" Quickly he adds ere his uncle thinks him unworthy, \"None the less, no matter the reason I am here for the duration. Tis only a curious note that makes me inquire as to more.\" A sly smile curves his lips as he goes on to say, \"And a proper notation in our travel journal should speak of the -why-

Rising quickly from his resting position on the ground, Naerdil strides to his steed and reaches into a pouch hanging from the horn of his saddle, withdrawn are a leather bound tome and a piece of charcoal. The setting of the sun places the campsite in darkness, save the backdrop of twinkling stars. A gruff laugh sounds as he says, \"Tomorrow an entry shall be made when the light allows a proper notating of our purpose.\" A frown furrows his thick brows as he says, \"Dispatches? Whom did you entrust to deliver these messages?\"

Suddenly there is a rustling in the bushes.

The well worn and beloved journal is carefully returned to its former resting place and Naerdil says, over his shoulder, \"Grateful am I that the one asking me to accompany you -did- reach its destination.\" Swinging around swiftly at the sound in the bushes, his stance is guarded as he reaches down to slip the end of his breeches up to reveal the sheath holding the silver dagger.

But it is only Huan that appears through the thicket. Bursting forth he bounds through the camp carrying with him a rather large hare in his mouth. He then comes by the fire and curls up to eat his meal and rest.

Numandil relaxes and says, \"Now then is the time for sleep. We shall attempt the fens on the morrow.\"

Numandil rises and ties the horses to a tree. He then glances up at the stars for a moment.

A booming laugh echoes from Naerdil as the hound returns with his evening meal. The crunching of the bones of the hare sound loudly as he quickly consumes the small animal, leaving little save the feet and tail. Turning his attention to his stallion, the younger Nimothan brushes his hand down the mane of his horse and then leads him to a grassy knoll at at nearby tree. Unfolding the bedding taken from the supplies he quickly spreads it out on the ground. His own eyes turn to the twinkling stars for a moment and then back to his kinsman, \"Rest well, my uncle. Tomorrow is another long day.\"

Numandil nods and bidding a goodnight he falls at once into deep slumber.