Relics of the Past

[GandalfOfBorg]

"This isn't good," reports Durgil. "The arrows are of orc-make and it looks like many men or orcs were here about a half of day ago and the trail is getting cold.  Search the bodies for anything else, I'll scout ahead."

[Rothesay]

"This journey has been frought with unexpected peril. You should not go alone Durgil."

Meanwhile, Edrahil will take a closer look at the two dead men, attempting to ascertain who they might have been and where they were from.

  if needed:

Rolled 2d6 : 4, 6, total 10

"At least," he says, "we cannot leave them in this state."

[Telcontar]

Celdarhil spoke in the Sindarin tongue, the one that came easiest to him, "they are riverfolk from down below. The captain of their band took them up river while you lay hurt. My guess is that there are two more about, most likely captured."

"Perhaps our two guides can attend to them in the manner of their people? The trail does not look old, perhaps if we hurry we can redeem our erstwhile companions. What say you Nain? Feeling better with firmer ground?"

[Stefan]

"Aye, tis good ta be back on firm earth.  Even so, ta walk away from th' River would make me feel even better."

[GandalfOfBorg]

"Your thoughtfulness is duly noted.  Are you volunteering your services to join me? or you Dirnhael?" quipped Durgil. "Decide quickly."

[Telcontar]

"Sudden haste will not avail us. If they were taken alive it wasfor a purpose, lets move with a purpose, but also with a plan."

[tomcat]

Leaving the two rivermen to tend to the fallen, the companions began to follow the path left by heavy-shodded feet. They entered into the treeline and were soon out of sight of the river, but not out of sound - the forest was alive with the many creatures that lived there. Crickets and tree frogs trilled, while others croaked in deep baritone calls and still other sounds came from the low shrubs that grew in abundance. Lastly, the sound of moving water filled the area where the two rivers became one.

The ground was firm and it was apparent that this was a well-used trail. The companions looked closely at the tracks and guessed there was at least two-hours lead on them. They would need to make haste, but also be cautious for surely an ambush could be well set. And so, with Durgil leading - an arrow knocked to his bowstring - they made their way east into the Nîn-in-Eilph.



As they marched, the oppressive feel of the forest began to fade and though it was dim under the boughs, a fresh breeze moved the air. The men and dwarf began to question their senses as the sounds of tinkling chimes carried over the far-off roar of rapids. Dirnhael shook his head when he heard faint laughter and singing in a tongue that he did not understand but was filled with gladness. The memories of his prior visit to Eregion came to his mind and how the land was still haunted by the Noldor who had lived here. No, that was not it, he told himself. T'was not that the land was haunted, but that it did not forget the powerful Elves that had called this home so long ago.

Edrahil's voice broke the enchanting sounds when he espied a stone-laid path that branched from the foot-trail upon which they walked. He pointed and the other companions could now see a path - or road - that was laid with perfect fitting stones that allowed no weed. Though it was covered over by fern, dirt, and other debris, it was apparent that no foot had walked it in a long time. It was certain that the orcs who had made their current trail had avoided it.

The Sindar could see the fine stonework that rivaled even that of the Dwarves, and he knew he looked upon the works of his ancient kin. This was a Noldorin footpath and he wondered where it led.

[sdrotar]

"These lands hold so many memories, both good and ill... but they are not poisoned yet."
The thought heartened Dirnhael as the men trod along the ancient path.

[GandalfOfBorg]

"Defeating this pestilence will serve to keep this land from further corruption.  All the more reason to route the enemy," says Durgil.

[Rothesay]

Edrahil peers down the ancient path of his kith and kin wistfully. "I would gladly follow this cheerful trail where none have gone for so long to see what wonders it may lead to. I doubt not it would bring joy to our hearts. Yet, our foul quarry did not go this way - no doubt for fear of what we would fain embrace. Another time perhaps ..."

[tomcat]

It came on the Sindar, as it had done those many times in the past, a feeling of transition from one sphere to another. He knew he still stood on the firm ground of Middle-earth, but his eyes saw...a future? a past?

Surely it was the past, for before him the pathway was clean and free of vegetation growing over it. The white stones were bright in a daylight that was not...of this day. He heard the sound of laughter and just down the path stood three tall Elves - Noldor - tall and graceful, their hair jet black. Two were female and one male, and they laughed at some conversation or song that did not translate across the years. He wanted to go to them, to be with them, to be back among his folk when their powers were greatest here upon the mortal lands. To talk with them and learn, to see their arts and crafts before it was all lost to time and the Shadow.

Only a few Noldor still remained within the bounds of Middle-earth and Edrahil had had the chance to meet some of them during his time in Rivendell, or when they came to the shores of Lindon to visit Círdan to make council, or to take the ships to Aman. But this was different - it was as if a door was open to a time to which he could return. Again, his mind told him the vision was not real, merely the foresight that he would at times experience, but the draw was strong. Maybe because it was the land of Eregion itself, enhancing the illusion, that it seemed he could make this a reality.

The Elves were walking away, disappearing behind a small bend where the path led between trees. Edrahil reached out and stepped a foot onto the old trail. In the distance, one of the beautiful Noldorin females turned back to him, smiled, and beckoned...and then it was gone.

The Sindar felt the firm hand of his friend touch his shoulder, "Edrahil? Are you okay?"

Edrahil stood there, his hand outstretched to the overgrown path, and Fengel was at his side with questions in his eyes.

[Rothesay]

"I ... I do not know."

Edrahil thought on the vision he had just experienced, taking an involuntary step onto the ancient path, untrodden over countless years. He had not known - had he? - the three Noldor in his vision, but they touched something within his heart. And had not one of them beckoned? If this was foretelling, why did it seem so much like the past? The Eldar shook his head and stood taller.

"Something of importance lies up this path - I know not what it is, and it is certain Guilin and his men are not to be found this way. I saw three of the deep elves and one beckoned to me. My people often leave traces in the very leaves and roots where they have dwelled that are but pleasant after-echoes, yet such a vision is too powerful to ignore."

[GandalfOfBorg]

"Maybe its the land's way of providing us aid?" pondered Durgil.  "We've had one surprise this day already, what's one more?"

[Telcontar]

Celdrahil looked at the path and studied it. He was one of the Elendili, a pure blood of the west from a noble line of Andúnië and so though slight he too was connected to the three great house of the Eldar and Edain.

"My heart leapt when I first heard about the Elven tower, then we saw the swans, the old mother tree, and now this path. What's more Edrahil has never steered us wrong with his councils, let's take the path, and let us do it with speed lest it make for a delay in tracking these orcs. Not even I could miss this path at a run, what say you Nain, you care for a sprint?"

[tomcat]

The decision to explore the path and Edrahil's vision was decided, and so they left the orc trail behind. The Sindar led the group, his feet softly padding on the ancient stonework that was set in the ground. Each of the companions were reasonably sure that such a path could not lead to danger - at least dangers of the Shadow - but still they kept a tight grip on their weapons.

The stone path turned to the east, and then back to the west, as if it weaved through a landscape that was no longer present. At times, it disappeared under the swamp water and the company needed to take care by moving on outcrops of firm ground. All around, the trees grew in abundance and concealed whatever goal to which their path was taking them. Edrahil mused that when the Noldor lived here, the fens of Swanfleet were not covered in wood - at least not to this extent. An Elf could stand on the boundaries of western Eregion and see the shining caps of the Misty Mountains.

But now, the woods were dense and branches reached out to cling and grasp. Fengel cursed a time or two as his tunic was snagged on a low-hanging branch. Once more the cobbled path receded under water and the company had to mount a small, but high-topped island. Once on the top, they gasped as the path continued up out of the water and into a ruin of ages past.