Unexpected Homecoming

[GandalfOfBorg]

"So much for diplomacy and a decent night's sleep," jested Durgil.  "I'd rather my blade tasted the minions of darkness instead of Men.  Let us go."

[Telcontar]

Celdrahil nodded. "Yes, we have been haunted by spirits and darkmen and are still not any closer to understanding the message of Mithrandir. These are empty and vacant lands, this war party is no concern of ours unless they make an issue of it. We will soon be outside of the their marauding in the next two days or so. Until then we must be wary of ambush or raid."

[tomcat]

Following Celdrahil's lead, the Company turned away from the pony riders and back towards the Iaur Men Formen. Once on the road they spurred their mounts to a quick pace, passing the small ruined hamlet as they did - after all, there was nothing more to be done there than to mourn the dead. They kept an eye over their shoulders but found the Hillmen to be continuing south and away from their easterly course. They did not see them again.

Two more days of riding and at last the outskirts of Tharbad were seen. From the south, grey clouds came and blotted the sun making the last few hours of travel wet and muddy. Dirnhael first led the Company in the direction of his adopted home, the manor of Lord Celephain of Cardolan. It had been meager in the standards of the Dúnedain, but he had been a good man and with his wife and son, had taken Dirnhael in as part of their family after the death of his own father, Ardil.

Upon seeing the outer walls and the fallow fields, Dirnhael felt a terrible pain in his heart. He had not come back. Even when Angbor had been slain, he had not returned to tell the master of this house of what had happened to the quartet of riders that had left one October morning, rainy as it was now, on a quest for Rivendell. Dirnhael had not returned to bury the dead.

The house was dilapidated, it's outer walls also beginning to show signs of deterioration. Whether it had been due to the lack of tending, or if it had been taken by other folk who lived nearby and were in need of materials, Dirnhael did not know - all he could see was that there was no longer life here. There had been seventeen other families that lived under the protection of Celephain. They had farmed the lands and served in many fashions to the Lord and Lady - certainly some of them had survived.

None of the others could tell, due to the rain that fell on their faces, but tears rolled down his cheeks. Dirnhael turned his horse from the ruin and spurred it on down the road in search of another estate that might be occupied. Gandalf had sent them here for a reason. They needed to find what it was. A voice spoke from behind him, "I am sorry for your loss, Dirnhael. It had always been my pleasure to visit the Lord Celephain. His house had always been open to me and my folk." Edrahil was the only one that remained of the original four riders who had left in pursuit of Rivendell.

With all of the companions wondering as to what was next, they followed Dirnhael in silence.

Tharbad sat on the river Gwathló, called Greyflood by Men, and a great bridge spanned across its center. Even after the fall of Cardolan, the plague, and the decline of the Dúnedain, the city was still occupied by those that could make it a home. It had itself become a series of enclaves, or even small fiefdoms within the crumbling walls, ruled over by petty lords of varying lineage of nobility. In truth, it came down to strength of arms as to who controlled what. The only thing that was certain was that the bridge was kept open by decree of all of the lords, and passers were protected, so that commerce could remain between the north and the south and so fill the coffers of the city.

The Company did not make it to Tharbad proper by the time the day was ending. Cold and damp, they found a small inn further south from where Dirnhael had lived and it was here that they stopped for the evening. They needed to dry; they needed food and rest; and most of all they needed information.

The inn's signage said Tinkerman's and warm light glowed through its windows. The setting around the inn was different, but for sure it looked and smelled like the one in Bree. Durgil saw to the groom, a young lad that tended the stables, and then caught up to his companions who had entered inside.

[sdrotar]

None of the others could tell, due to the rain that fell on their faces, but tears rolled down his cheeks. Dirnhael turned his horse from the ruin and spurred it on down the road in search of another estate that might be occupied. Gandalf had sent them here for a reason. They needed to find what it was. A voice spoke from behind him, "I am sorry for your loss, Dirnhael. It had always been my pleasure to visit the Lord Celephain. His house had always been open to me and my folk." Edrahil was the only one that remained of the original four riders who had left in pursuit of Rivendell.

Dirnhael nodded as the emotion overwhelmed him.
Faded memories of his birth parents, lost when he was but a child; memories of Celephain and his family, giving him a new home... a new life.
While Dirnhael eventually did ensure that the plague that forced him from Tharbad was ended, the cost was great, including the life of Celephain's son, Angbor.
He had made a life for himself in the many months that followed; one with a home and a bride that Celephain would have been a proud to meet.

"I should have returned," he finally said, in a voice that only Edrahil could here. "They deserved better than... this. They all did."

He trailed behind the rest of the Company for the day; wanting only to hide his anguish from his companions and ride alone with his thoughts.

[GandalfOfBorg]

"All Good Folk do, brother.  Something festering, eating away at the land and people.  It certainly can be felt in the North and there are signs of it manifesting, but here it has seeped in and overcome.  This evil can't be overcome but we can help stave it off ... that's why we're here.  It can only win if good men don't stand to oppose it."

[Stefan]

Nain looked on the home with mixed feelings.  It was a forlorn sight before him and he could feel the pain it brought his friend as almost a palpable thing, but his thoughts ran to the fact that this wood would soon return to the soil that had spawned it and if it had been built of stone, as a good dwarven structure would be, it would stand as a monument for centuries to come.  He thought that perhaps he'd return, once this adventure was over, and build a real monument to the memory of the main and his family.  Nain had never known them but they'd raised a great man and they deserved to be remembered for it.

[tomcat]

Edrahil entered the small inn and noticed the common room. It was well lit and warm, but it did not have many guests. Suddenly a tall man with a serious face came from out of a small kitchen and looked at his new arrivals. Fengel stood behind the Sindar and was being followed in by the rest of the companions.

"Hello," said Edrahil. "We seek the comforts of your inn."

The innkeep did not smile and his eyes seemed guarded. "Where do you come from? Are there any sick among you?"

The Sindar mage was not offended by the non-hospitable greeting, but he now wondered what had been going on in Cardolan. As an Elf, he had traveled through this land many times and had always had warm receptions from its folk, those such as Celephain. But this greeting was none he had expected.

"No... there are no sick among us," he answered.

[Stefan]

Nain moved out from behind the taller Men and found a table that would seat all of them.

"The road from Bree is long and oppressive, If ye'd bring us a round of ales to wet our parched tongues, the story of our travels would flow more readily."

[Telcontar]

The martial appearances of the company were not easily concealed, even if they had wished too. Celdrahil however was more accustomed to a greeting such as this having lived and traveled were the great plague was far more deadly than it had been this far north.

"I am Celdrahil of Ithilien, we have traveled from the north escaping no sickness and bringing none with us. We desire to break bread in wellness and health and to drink to better days for all."

As Celdrahil spoke the words he extended his arms and showed his neck showing both to be free of boils or any swelling. With a satisfied nod he took a seat near the dwarf.

"The memory of the plague will be slow in fading my friends. Such a question is more common than a greeting in the lands further south."

[GandalfOfBorg]

"Seems that my purse is needed more on this trip than my sword and bow.  Rooms for all of us please, sir," called Durgil, "and boarding for our steeds. Information we also seek but that can be tended to when you have the time."

[Telcontar]

"Our folk are few and scattered Durgil my friend, hospitality will be hard to find. The once proud jewel of Tharbad is returning to the swamp from which it was born and is recalled now in glory only in the cups and stories of the longer lived. Another casualty in our war against time it would seem. "Aure entuluva!", though I doubt I will live to see it."

[tomcat]

GREAT PC interaction! I will have another post up tonight.

[sdrotar]

"Seems that my purse is needed more on this trip than my sword and bow.  Rooms for all of us please, sir," called Durgil, "and boarding for our steeds. Information we also seek but that can be tended to when you have the time."

Dirnhael chortled quietly at the quip. "If it is only your purse we'll need," he told Durgil, "we'll be far more fortunate than I expect."
He reached into his pocket for coins to pay for the round of drinks Nain ordered and gave them to the barkeep with a smile, chuckling as he did so.

[tomcat]

The innkeep listened, gave a single nod and then said, "Find yourselves a seat in the common room - it can get warm from the hearth so feel free to open a window. I will fetch you some mugs."

The mood was now more friendly, but a look still lingered on the man's face regarding his new guests. It wasn't that the inn did not receive customers anymore, but in these times caution was always prudent. That an Elf and Dwarf were amongst the group made it intriguing and the innkeep could not refuse them.

A few moments passed and he returned with a set of six wooden mugs and a wooden board that was laden with a fresh-baked honey bread. A small hole in the board held a crock in which was new butter. The innkeep set it all down and then pointed, "There is a tapped keg yonder that you can fill your cups - it is a homebrew, I think you will like it. It is 10 copper pennies a cup, but I am not going to keep count. I'll leave it to you to be honest men... errr... folk. You can have the four rooms at the top of the stairs and the other two will have to stay on the ground floor - back there." The innkeep pointed down a small hall. "The rooms are 1 silver penny a night. I am sure, too, that you'll be wanting food, right?"

Fengel smiled, "Aye good sir! It's been eleven days on the road from Bree and five days before that, so whatever you might have cooking will be fine."

The man nodded, "Bree, huh? Then you'll be from up north I am s'posing. What's brought you down south into these lands? Not much here anymore...unless you be passing through on the road south to Gondor."

It was Edrahil that answered next, "No, we do not seek further south than Tharbad. My Dwarven companion and these good Knights of Arthedain have come south due to an urgent message. Might you be familiar with an older man named of Gandalf?"

"I am familiar with the Gray Wanderer," replied the innkeep. "Haven't seen him pass here in quite a few months... well after the troubles started." He took a pause, "Well, we've had trouble for years with the loss of the crown long ago, now the sickness, but even more since the summer heat began to brew."

[Telcontar]

Celdrahil cocked an eyebrow at these comments.

"Hmmm, what is the nature of these recent troubles?" He looked at his companions and motioned for the inn keeper to sit if he was so inclined.