(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 7 - Rohan and Numenor

The Party Enters Rohan

As the day breaks the riders get ready for another day of travel. Mounted on their steeds and fully packed, the riders chaffe for the road. It is Indilzar Bragollach this day who is upon his steed first: Black Morang. He looks about the camp coldly.

Stately Faengor strides trough the remnants of the camp, cracking twigs beneath his black leather boots as he moves towards his waiting and packed steed. Dull eyes gaze about it\'s surroundings, watching the squires as they throw sand upon the still smouldering ashes of the camp fire and perform any last minute tasks before heading toward their own horses.

Silently, the Errand Rider of Gondor mounts his horse, grabbing hold of it\'s reins as he places himself steadfast in the sadle and prepares for the trip.

Looking to the company Indilzar says, \"We should make good distance this day in that the fields of Rohan are free of wood, rock and other things that might hamper our progress.\"

Then a pointed look is given to Faengor, \"Why do you not ride beside me this day Faengor Nimothan?\"

A quick glance is given and weary eyes are set upon the noble Braggolach. A single nod is given and then the reins are spurred and silently the horse trods towards Indilzar\'s steed. \"How fare you this morning, Lord?\" Faengor speaks, eyes set upon Indilzar.

Indilzar clicks his horse as the riders begin, \"It is well. We come nigh to Rohan, yet no sign of our kith. Word has spread that perhaps some evil is ahead on the road.\"

Faengor frowns and turns his lips in an unpleasant curl as he attempts to grab his cloak from his pack behind his horse, turning away from Indilzar as he wrestles it free from the luggage and ties it about his neck, before returning towards the Braggolach and grouchily he sspeaks in reverie, \"Evil. Why is there never word of good?\"

Indilzar laughs, \"You live in dark times. That is why.\"

Then they come to the bridge and the watchmen seeing that these are indeed Men of Gondor opens his hand in greeting.

\"Who rides in Rohan?\" he asks.

\"A company of Men from Gondor, seeking passage over Rohan,\" replies Indilzar.

After a moment, the watchman considers then says, \"You may pass Men of Gondor. Good luck to your road!\"

With an inclination of the head, the company passes on.

Looking out to the plains, Indilzar says, \"Glad shall I be when we leave the eaves of this wood. A quiet forest path is nice, but time is of the essence. It shall be many months ere we see hearth and home. Perhaps years.\"

No response is given and silently Faengor trods on the path ahead, back bent, his cloak wrapped about his body, sheltering him from the cold of the dawn. Finally he speaks, aftering several moments of consideration, \"Little does it matter to me. Nothing do I leave behind, ... except mayhaps, the city I have pledged loyalty to.\"

Loud crashing sounds come from the undergrowth, and Morrandir emerges from the trees, his sword drawn and his hair full of leaves. Seeing the others he sheaths his weapon, and walks towards them with a sheepish grin. \"Good day, Sirs.\"

\"And your people and house,\" says Indilzar gravely. He then tightens his fingers around the reins of his steed tighter and says, \"Yet for now the wind is fine despite this drizzle. Not a fair way to greet the dawn.\" A glance is set back to Morrandir, \"You are walking today Morrandir?\" The sun\'s final rays drop below the horizon, leaving the plains in darkness.

Another figure glides into the encampment from the woods--one as grey as the dawn and drizzle, silent as a ghost. He sits briefly on his haunches and watches the others break camp he, for his part, has no horse to saddle nor baggage to pack. He chews idly for a moment on a strip of dried meat, and then asks, \"And how far ere nightfall, Lord Bragollach?\" calls Bregedur. His query is followed scant moments afterwards by a boom of imminent thunder. \"In this weather?\" he finishes, smiling faintly.

Upon the crashing of trees and the sudden glint of a drawn blade, the reins of the Errand rider\'s horse are tugged bruskly, allowing his horse to stagger and snort loudly trough it\'s nostrils as a hand is moved towards the pommel of his sword and his cloak is released making it flutter behind him.

Yet, quickly enough the rider recognizes his mistake and the horse is calmed, the blade is left where it is and his gaze turns to Indilzar for but a moment. \"You have nerves of steel Lord?\" he inquires. \"Er...no...Sir...\" he says looking behind him, searching for something among the trees. \"There you are!\" he says in delight, running towards the eaves of the wood. As he does so a large brown head pushes it\'s way through the leaves. It is Morrandir\'s horse.

Indilzar takes off his glove and palms his hand over his face for a moment. He then sighs and straightens up on his horse, \"Hurry up Morrandir, we have much ground to cover.\" Then his grey-eyes find the ranger and he says, \"How long? Until the sun sinks in the west. We have many leagues to travel and there is not much we can do about this weather. There will be worse to come.\"

Then Indilzar laughs, \"Nay Faengor, for if an enemy has come, then Huan would alert me. If not. Well, they would die.\" He shrugs as if this were the simplest thing to say.

Standing, the Ranger moves toward the startled horse and the squire, but his words are for Indilzar: \"Not how long, I asked, Lord, but how far and yet it is of no import. We shall go as we go.\" He reaches out to pet the beast\'s muzzle, seeking to calm its nerves.

Smiling again, Indilzar Bragollach replies as they begin to move once again westward,\"By my calculations, by the time we are done with this quest we will have travelled half the earth and about the distance to the moon. I do not think we shall quite make the sun though. She is a bit too far.\" These words are said grimly.

The horse remains still as Morrandir clambers up into the saddle, a seemingly smug expression on it\'s face. \"You think that was funny, don\'t you?\" whispers Morrandir into the horses ear. He urges the beast forward clumsily. This man is clearly not an accomplished rider.

\"And in the wrong direction,\" the Ranger adds, still stroking the horse\'s nuzzle as Morrandir climbs onto his beast, and then turning as the other rides leans forward to speak to his mount.

\"More to see that way Master Ranger,\" replies Indilzar as his horse slowly clicks over the land. He then glances at the boughs of the wood, \"More so than even the light that this forest denies us. Yet look, we come to the end away west - I think.\" Indilzar then explains, \"I have been this way before when I went away with Huan. Yet if all holds true, there will be other, more strange woods that we shall enter. Or at least my heart forbodes it.\"

\"Fangorn.\"

It is not a question from the Grey man who keeps easy pace on the ground with the walking steeds--and there is little in his voice to reveal how he himself feels at the prospect. \"Tell me of Belfalas,\" he says then, unexpectedly. \"It has been long since I have been.\"

For a moment Indilzar Bragollach ponders the words of Bregedur but he does not say aught at the mention of Fangorn. Rather he says softly in the gloom, \"It is a great land ranger. Fair and green are the plains nigh the sea. Thither the fisherman of all the coastlands gather to bring into their nets the rich bounty of the bay, be it the rich red meat of the salmon, or even the delicate sailfish. There the gulls sing over the white walls of Dol Amroth, which shine standing alone upon their promontory. A fair place, as the beacons of Tarnost flutter down from the hills and light the King\'s Road for many miles, bringing a soft peace upon either the shepherds of the hills who have many flocks, mostly of sheep, but some cows and even some goats in the more northern part of the domain, or perhaps those men who make wine from the vinyards near the coast. Rich red wine, good for drinking at the table with sweet fruit blessed with fragrant flowers from Lebennin. It is indeed a fair land Bregedur and my heart grieves to leave it. Yet, I do not account myself a Man of Belfalas.\"

Beneath his rain-sodden hood, the Ranger turns his head to eye Morrandir and his mistreatment of the beast while Indilzar answers him. A beat passes, and then Bregedur returns: \"No? And yet the Bragollach lie rooted in Belfalas as strongly as an ancient oak in loam. The wineries and vineyards you speak of--I know that some lie within Bragollach domains--and yet you are not a man of Belfalas? Queer indeed.\" He moves ahead then, scanning the terrain, and chooses a path through the undergrowth--gesturing along it, he vanishes.

Ducking a branch, Indilzar emerges from the wood to reply to Bredgedur, \"This is true Master Ranger. For long generations my house has dwelt there, at least since the coming of the Princes. Yet my line can be traced back even further, for we are one of the few lines that can trace our heritage to before the Akallabeth, and it was Battanuazor who founded my line, surnamed \'Bragollach\' by Tar-Minastar in the wars of the Second Age. Therefore, all the eldest line of this house has taken on the names in the old tongue of Numenor, to assert our love for the Land that is no more.\"

Indilzar looks wistful for a moment if that is imaginable then says, \"I am a man of Numenor.\"

It may be that the Ranger now wears a smile beneath his hood--though it may be a grimace as well. The rain and shadow make it difficult to see for certain...his next words, then: \"And your Squire, Lord? Is he, too, a Bragollach man of Numenor? I should wonder where he learned horse-craft, for surely men of High Blood would not mistreat a beast so...\"

\"He is not my squire,\" says Indilzar laughing. He glances back at Morrandir and says, \"Yet perhaps it would be best to let him answer that himself.\"

\"Nay, Sir.\" says Morrandir, petting the horses neck. \"No noble blood graces my veins. And I did not learn horse-craft anywhere...\"

\"That much is apparent,\" agrees the Ranger with a nod. \"And the beast will not love you for your half-knowledge mayhap the time is come for the Lord to impart instruction upon you?\"

Silent Indilzar rides on slowly. At the comment of the Ranger he says, \"You are Thorondur\'s squire, correct Morrandir?\"

\"Perhaps, Sir.\" says Morrandir. \"Though I believe this beast to be of good humour. Hopefully if I return from this journey, after all the riding that is to be done I shall be a fine horseman.\" he looks to Indilzar. \"I am, Sir.\"

The Ranger remains silent now, walking ahead of the two as the trees thin out into the plains--he still sweeps his head back and forth, but it seems that his skills are less needed.

\"Curse this storm,\" says Indilzar, \"it does not bode well. Though at least we are free of the woods. Yet I have seen naught of the Riders of Rohan.\"

\"Surely we shall meet with some soon, Sir.\" says Morrandir, looking back at the forest. \"They must have scouts...\"

Indilzar nods and says, \"Yes, but this is not like them.\" Indilzar shifts in his saddle, \"They are not too subtle.\"

\"No? This is not known to me, Lord--I was about to suggest that they might merely be watching us to ascertain our purpose ere speaking to us, as we in the Garden might do.\" He pauses to collect a tall blade of grass and nibbles idly at it for a brief space. \"Think you then that there is some ill deed that has befallen them?\"

\"But what on earth could that be?\" says Morrandir, looking to Bregedur. \"Orcs? Dunlendings? If that were the case there would be fires...\"

Indilzar looks ahead into the gloom and says, \"Nay. I do not think anything ill has happened.\"

He looks back to the others and explains, \"It is the gloom of my heart that speaks thusly.\"

The Ranger shrugs again. \"It may be, too, that they have heard the tales of lighting-forks that pick out men in steel who ride upon horseback recklessly in ill weather...\"

As the party comes to this place Indilzar calls a halt. He then motions to Morrandir and the other squires, \"Help set up camp, then a meal.\"