CHAPTER: 6 THE QUEST OF THE STONE

Breaking camp was now a longer process than it had earlier been. There were many more troops now from all over Middle Earth. By word of mouth the exploits of this troop had come to be mentioned at the Inns and in the Halls of many communities.

The Mithril Knight/Ranger, Qualmeasto, would now guide them through many ancient paths and roads long forgotten by most that now lived in Middle Earth.

The two other members of the Mithril had remained. Aiya had received a very serious wound by the talons of the Uruloki. A litter would be required to carry her for a few more days at least, although she was recovering at a faster pace than most. At the thought of being carried, Aiya protested. Her healers gently ignored her protestations.

“If you wish to continue your position as healer to this group, then please listen to the ones healing you,” argued Darhil of Anfalas. “It only makes good sense, my Lady.”

Calaval, who was standing behind Darhil stepped forward, reached for her hand and, holding it, added, “My Lady Aiya, we all hold you in high regard. You have shown your courage throughout this journey. Please listen to the good counsel now given you.” He then rose, nodded his head to her and the two Mithril Maidens, and went back to his mount to ready for the travels.

Aiya had to admit then that she couldnÂ’t ride a horse well enough yet with her shoulder still bound and soon gave in to the will of her healers, as well as the stern command of her cousin, Eldacar.

They had moved slowly south on the Greenway through many small hamlets. Most had been harmed in one way or another by the Easterling groups, which had crossed the River Anduin in their raids.

When possible aid was given as needed to the survivors who had returned to their homes. But many refused to return and many had lost their families to the terrible black curse of the East.

As the group progressed south they were joined by many of the men who had lived in these villages swelling their group even more. Most were simple folk who had little training in battle tactics, but they were brave and willing to learn now that the dark threat of Mordor was spreading throughout Middle Earth.

An unknown path was shown them, which would take them into the Western part of Gondor. This way they would bypass Rohan making the trip to the Black Stone a quicker, though somewhat more dangerous one. Overgrown grass and bushes hid it, but Qualmeasto seemed to know where it was located and followed it with assurance leading the large group of troopers.

Soon more of the Mithril Knights joined their group. Those who had already arrived made the introductions. Lady Kaeglin named them as they stepped up to Eldacar.

“I present to you our co-leader, Brimnon ValÂ’Istar of Gondolin. He is also my great grandfather and shares his duties with myself. We come originally from the same area as you, Eldacar, as well as your cousin Aiya and some of your original troop, I believe. That area we call Evendim. Our family, too, suffered greatly in the ancient First War waged by Sauron, and was forced to leave our homeland. I also have the honor of introducing Boragorn, the one who accompanied our Ladies to aid your healer with her wounds earlier.”

Eldacar greeted them all. “There are several warriors from other kinships or groups of free peoples in this troop. We have met Milanthir, a Ranger with the Peace Keepers, in Bree. He joins us when his duties allow. We also have Atticas of the same group along with many free-men from the villages we have aided in our journey up to now.”

Calaval approached the group and introduced himself. “I am Calaval Elwvyan of the troop that names ourselves the Forever Knights as is my compatriot, the Elvan scout Sarlonda Lyre,” and he indicated the silent figure standing on a high bluff, her hand shading his long-sighted eyes, keeping watch for any dangers.

Qualmeasto gestured impatiently. “This is all very nice, but if we donÂ’t get started it will be a much longer time until we reach the quest asked for by Lady Aiya, I fear.”

“What quest is that?” came a voice from the fringe of the group. Un-noticed another had slipped into this band of newcomers and was standing, arms crossed in askance of the Ranger.

“We are bound for the Black Stone of Erech,” replied Qualmeasto retaining a patience that he seldom used. “Lady Aiya has been told in her far-sight images that she is to bring an ancient crystal, passed down to her from her Westernesse ancestors, to the Black Stone, although the reasons have not yet been made clear to her.”

“Perhaps I might aid in some way. I am Quenore, I am a Sindar Loremaster from the group calling themselves the Moriquendi.”

Eldacar stepped forward, “Let me take you to my cousin. Aiya will be very grateful for any light you could shed on this I believe.” At that the two turned and walked to the tent in which Aiya had been placed.

To the consternation of Qualmeasto it took several hours to muster everyone, break camp and get underway. The large troop began slowly moving to the southwest on little known trails. Sometimes the trails turned into wider roads. These had been developed over the centuries of Middle Earth and long been forgotten. As Qualmeasto had explained to the leader, Eldacar, and his Captains, he planned on bypassing any larger populated areas to avoid as much contact as possible. Yet at some points there was no choice.

One small village contained a rather large inn. This made the Ranger quite uncomfortable, but yet, it did afford some lodging for Aiya and the Mithril Maids, although none were expecting anything of great consequence along the way. They were all three made of stern material, even though their looks belied this.

As the Captains saw to the setting up of camp on the outskirts of town, the troops were thinking about the good ale in the Inn, and as soon as their labors were concluded began to drift towards the place.

Darhil and Celdirion decided to join some of the others for a cold ale. Eldacar also joined them, as well as some of the Peace Keepers. It was thought that they might hear some information from the outside concerning what might be going on.

“Order up some refreshment friends, while I mingle with this crowd,” suggested Eldacar as they picked a secluded table and seated themselves.

“IÂ’ll go along, too,” added Qualmeasto softly. He had slipped quietly in with the rest of the crowd. “Never know what our ears might pick up.”

Somewhere in the hubbub a voice began singing a rather boisterous hunting song. It was a deep, resonant tone and Eldacar soon found it was coming from a rather short, but well built Dwarf sitting by himself in a corner. As they approached him and he arose one could see that his dress was quite impressive. A black leather jerkin, green hooded cape, and a very important looking silver vest, which looked like mithril. On his left arm was a silver gauntlet, which also took on the look of mithril. He was altogether a very striking figure with the confidence that rather touched Celdirion who was the first to extend his hand to this Dwarven stranger with the rough voice.

“I am Celdirion,” the Elven archer said with a grin, “and you?” he added as the others stood waiting.

In a thick Dwarven accent the figure gathered himself up with a flourish. “My name is Kelim Naugrim, KrainÂ’s son and of the kinship of the Iron Hills,” he said with a short nod of his head and a wave of his hand. “Join me for an ale and a pipe of HalflingÂ’s leaf.” At that statement he took his hand from his double axe on the table beside him and drew out a long-stemmed, small bowled pipe from a hidden pocket, stuffed it with some pipeweed, lit it and puffed away.

“I believe I will join you in an ale, Kelim son of Krain,” grinned Celdirion and a fast friendship seemed to begin at this moment between Elf and Dwarf.

The entire group joined them. Some, who were well aquainted with pipeweed, joined in and the owner of the Inn passed around large mugs of ale to all.

Meanwhile Qualmeasto was quietly listening to the gossip going around the Inn. Some were talking of strange creatures being seen. Small crooked beings slipping through the gloom at sundown. Others mentioned villages that had been attacked and of the frightening, dark things beginning to happen, even in these far communities.

As these wisps of information were being digested by the group the Dwarf leaned across the table gesturing for them to gather closer. In a course whisper he shared his own bit of information. “IÂ’ve heard that a cousin of mine went from his fatherÂ’s court up north on a mysterious journey south,” and he nodded his head to emphasize the story.

This was not the first time a mysterious journey had been mentioned by someone. This dispelled most of the doubt that had been felt when it had been told before. There was something happening in Middle Earth, and they felt they were in some way a part of it. Especially considering the visions that Aiya had seen in the flames of her fire and in her feverish dreams while wounded by the Uruloki.

After listening to the crowd the Captains turned to Qualmeasto. They now understood why he wished to take a circuitous route into west Gondor and Erech.

Leaning closer to the men he told them more of his plan. “I have no wish to come too close to Isengard. There are strange and evil things happening there now. We will cross the Gwathlo, the Greyflood, at a place I have discovered just south of here and continue through Enedwaith instead of attempting to travel through the Gap of Rohan. We can get to west Gondor without being overly watched by our enemies, I hope. Although these days there seem to be many on their way to Mordor. It may be that they are being summoned!”

Aiya had been listening to all the conversation. At this point she broke in. “I saw a great army of our enemy in my dreams. They were accompanied by strange beasts, which I have never seen in reality! But I thought it was but an imaginary vision made from my fever.”

“No, Aiya,” put in Kaeglin, “I really feel that you have seen some things that may be of the future. You have the foresight of your ancestors remember. Do not treat them as some childish dream!”

“Yes, we call it far-sight in my family. My mother used to tell me about it. IÂ’ve experienced it since a child now and again, but not like I am now. I will take it more seriously and tell you about them when they come. You know,” she added, “I also get visions sometimes when I stare into the flames or embers of a fire. Eldacar is the only one I really tell about them, though.”

“I didnÂ’t mean to chide you too strongly, Aiya, but from now on please share them with Lindorie and me. This way we can try to understand what they might mean. They could help us to warn of dangers,” Kaeglin gently told Aiya, who nodded in agreement.

Deciding to get some rest they were all rising from their places at the table to leave when the door of the Inn flew open as if a gust of wind had caught it. Framed in the doorway was a small, slightly dripping and bedraggled figure. Night had come and with it a summer storm had blown in from the west. Rain was now steadily falling from a dark sky creating large muddy puddles and riverlets running down the street. The figure, who had stood for several seconds staring into the crowded Inn, finally moved coming inside. There was a sudden lull in the room as everyone turned and looked.

It was a small boy. At least this is what most would have thought if they were not familiar with Hobbits. This troop had met them in the Bree Hill area. In fact they had talked to a Hobbit named Banks. Eldacar walked over and invited him to the table.

“What is a young Hobbit doing so far away from the Shire?” he asked the dark headed figure. “Especially on a night like this.”

The figure seemed to wilt in his wet cloak and hood. “Take off your wet clothing my young man-er-Hobbit,” smiled Celdirion, “and sit you down.” He patted a place on the long bench by the table, then waved at the Innkeeper to bring another ale.

When the newcomer had taken his dripping cloak off, sat where Celdirion indicated and gulped down a few drafts of drink he began to answer the questions that had been asked of him.

“My name is Folcar and I come from the southern part of the Shire. I have been a sherriff there for two years, but now everything is changing. I wanted to leave. I didnÂ’t like what was going on and anyway I wished to see some of the outside world so here I am!” he explained in a rush of words.

Darhil frowned, “Things are changing? How are things different?”

“Well,” he stammered, “some very strange things are happening. We have evil Men coming into the Shire. They come with large wagons and load them up with all type of provisions and pipeweed and then leave, always going east. We have been told to leave them alone. I didnÂ’t really like their looks or what they were doing. It is creating a shortage of many types of food as well as other things in the Shire and I was not allowed to say anythingÂ…” he paused and his head drooped, “so I left.” Then he added hopefully, “Will we ever see Weathertop? IÂ’ve always dreamed of seeing it as IÂ’ve heard about it in the tales that have been told in the Shire sometimes.”

Qualmeasto had been listening. Now he added to the conversation. “If the allies of Saruman are now coming into the Shire you can bet the evil of Mordor is spreading rapidly. This makes the need for haste even more important.” He then turned to Folcar. “I am sure little Hobbit that you will see the once great Amon Sul at some time in our journeys. I have a feeling we will be passing by it again in time. But, as to now, we have other territory to cover.”

The band of troopers arose and left the inn inviting the Hobbit to come to the camp with them, which seemed to please the small young man. He immediately decided that he would join them if they would have him and voiced his choice to Eldacar who readily agreed to include him in this group of free men.

“Of course you are welcome, Folcar. You have as much reason to join in our quest for freedom as any other who lives in Middle Earth.”

As they left and walked out into the stormy night none saw another dark figure that followed them. This unknown shadow hung far back acting as a straggler, but entered the camp seemingly unseen blending in with others. His name was Ephazir, and he was a member of a group which called themselves The Order of the Shadow. He was a mercenary for the dreaded former Witch-king of the North who had joined Sauron as his Captain of the Nazgul, Angmar, as later would be discovered, but at this time he was just thatÂ… a shadowÂ…

One of the men took Folcar in tow, taking him to an Elven smithy that had joined the group. There he was given a short-sword to protect himself as well as a small dagger and some light armor. Eldacar had told this former sherriff of the Shire that this would be necessary if he was to join this group of troopers. “I donÂ’t wish you to come to any harm little one. YouÂ’ll have to be able to protect yourself if any enemy is met!”

After being fitted with his new outfit Folcar felt much better about himself. Now he was part of an honorable group of free Middle Earth. He could hold his head up and be proud of what he was to become. Squaring his shoulders and holding his head high he joined those that were around a campfire and was welcomed as another freedom fighter.

At dawn the next morning the camp was dismantled and the large force headed southwest towards the crossing at the River Greyflood. As they were slowly crossing a lone rider stood on the other side gazing at them. As they crossed he approached Eldacar who had led the first across accompanied by the Mithril Knight, Qualmeasto and the other Captains.

“I have noticed your troop with interest these many days keeping track of you. I am of the group Rangers of Andune. I offer you my services for what they may be worth,” he said with a nod of his dark, long-haired head.

Eldacar smiled and extended his hand in a firm handshake. “I am honored to have another Ranger with us, Sir. What is your name?”

“I am called Raydon Trueflame. I am born of a family in the city of the great Tower of Ecthelion, Minas Tirith and am the leader of my group. I also bring with me the warrior Elowanda,” and he indicated a Shieldmaid on his left.

“Then welcome Raydon. As long as you might wish to aid us with your talents you will be appreciated I vow,” and Eldacar returned his nod.

Aiya had now returned to her mount. Feeling much more improved she had insisted that she be allowed to ride once more. She joined Eldacar as he was conversing with this stranger. She noticed his noble bearing and as she came nearer also noticed his flashing gray eyes. A small knot formed in her chest, just for a moment. A passing feeling that she had never experienced before. It was gone before she had given it any thought. “Eldacar are you going to introduce us?” she asked her cousin and this was done. The eyes of these two seemed to lock for just a moment. There was something there that neither recognized, as yet.

“I also come with a warning,” added this Knight. “Not two days hence I saw a small patrol of both Orcs as well as their allies of Men from the East. They are southeast of here, or were when I spied them, and probably up to no good.”

“I thank you, Raydon. We will send out scouts in that direction. Would you be willing to lead them?” was EldacarÂ’s reply.

“Gladly I will since you asked.”

Eldacar quickly rounded up his tracker Captain, Idril who had his picked men to join Raydon. They galloped off in the direction indicated by this new Knight.

They were now in Enedwaith riding south parallel to the road which led to Isengard, but far enough west to avoid any traffic which might be on that road, as Qualmeasto had planned.

They would be crossing the River Isen before many days had passed and could already see the looming gray Ered Nimrais in the far distance. This would be the area of Erech and the Black Stone, the questing place of Aiya and her crystal told to her by the White Wizard of her visions.

The land was now mostly a bare place of rolling hills and vales. The trees, which used to thickly cover the landscape, had been systematically cut down by the ancient Numenoreans in the Second Age. The Dunedain claimed administration of this land under which the Wild-Men also carried on their control. Many of the latter were allies of Sauron and Mordor. Their ancestors had come under control of Morgoth in the First Age. This tradition had continued through the ages. The Dunedain, on the other hand, were allied with the free men of Middle Earth, and traced their heritage from the ancient Edain. In fact, every Dunedain Chief claimed a direct descending from them. There was also the mysterious and very secretive Wose, called that by the Rohirrim. They lived in the mountains of the very Far Western part of Rohan and Gondor. They were a very small part of the Druedain. Nothing very much was known about them although there had been many reports of drums being heard in their areas. In fact, it had been thought, up until the Third Age, that they were extinct. Now reports proved otherwise.

Qualmeasto knew all of this and he had imparted it to Eldacar as they had ridden their way through Enedwaith. Eldacar hoped they wouldnÂ’t encounter any of SauronÂ’s allies, but this hope was a thin one.

As they crossed the Isen and came ever nearer to the mountains the terrain changes to rocky groups of hills mixed with the green plains. Night was falling and an encampment was made. More guards than usual were posted as lookouts, for all felt the darkness of Mordor in this land. Even so, a small, dark clothed figure quietly left taking care not to be seen. He had done this several times in the past few days unknown to anyone.

Raydon returned from the scouting tour. Boragorn had accompanied him and both had some very interesting information for Eldacar and the others. After unmounting and seeing to their horses the two strode over to the main tent pushing the flap open and walking into a conference of the commander, Captains and Qualmeasto who all looked up with questions in their eyes.

Atticas of the Peace Keepers half stood with his hands on his hips. “Well, you seem to be bearing some news?”

The two nodded in return. “We trailed some Men into the hills. They had Orcs with them. We think they may have holed up in a small cave in one of them,” Raydon informed the group of men around the circle.

“It is very close to where you have planned to march. It may be coincidence, but it is quite a convenient one for our enemy. Too convenient to my way of thinking. We may very well have a spy in our midst as our scouts wouldnÂ’t have let any stranger near enough to hear any plans made by this council,” Boragorn added tersely.

“Nothing for it troops. We will just have to take care and keep our eyes open. This is the only way to Erech,” Qualmeasto stated quietly but firmly.

With the dawning the troops moved at a careful and watchful pace. More scouts were sent out and at a turning in the path one was found, but his fortunes were not good. He lay face down on the side of a brushy copse, an Orc arrow plain to see in his left shoulder. Celdirion unmounted and ran to him. Turning him over he found that the man was still alive, but injured badly. The man was trying to say something so Celdirion kneeled to listen.

“Sir, Orcs are among the rocks ahead,” he gasped, before his eyes closed. Celdirion ran back to the group calling for the healers and the Mithril Knights. Lady Kaeglin and Linorie Ainariel along with Aiya rode to the stricken scout dismounted and began to minister to the wounded trooper while those both mounted and on foot took positions of protection. They expected to be attacked at any minute and they werenÂ’t disappointed. Orcs in a black wave began their attack almost immediately. Arrows flew, familiar screeches filled the air and the enemy was upon them with ugly blasts on their horns to urge them on. Behind were Men of the East as well as some from Eredwaith. They swarmed down between the rocks pushing the Orcs forward in unwilling compliance, for it was not the darkness, which they preferred.

Banners unfurled, swords drawn and shields at ready the mounted Knights faced the enemy of the free peoples of Middle Earth while those on foot stood their ground facing this threat as best they could. Arrows flew from Elven bows and those of Men of the villages who had joined for just this purpose. These were the evil beings that had burned and destroyed their homes and hamlets forcing their families to live in the wilds. These were the beings that had killed many of their women and children.

Long horn blasts of the groups and kinships also lent their sounds to the battle- field as they sliced their way through the black hordes. Horses reared, men whirled with their sharp swords cutting deeply into their enemies. The arrows were finding their mark in the enemyÂ’s bodies. The Patriots surrounded the attackers in a wide circle. A flanking strategy made the night before in their camp was succeeding. Atticas on the left and Darhil on the right had forced the enemy into an uncompromising position. It now was their undoing. Those on the flank forced the Southrons and those of Enedwaith into the waiting weapons of the Patriots. Between the Mithril Knights, PeaceKeepers, Forever Knights, those of the Rangers of Numenor and Gondor as well as the Patriots of Endor aided by the various villagers, victory finally came as the sun was setting over the area of battle.

The attackerÂ’s circle began to diminish until there was none left and quiet again ruled in the hills.

As this was going on Aiya had remained in the center tending to the wounded scout. Kaeglin, being a shieldmaiden, had joined the fray while Lindorie, the other healer of the Mithril Knights, took up a protective position putting herself and her shield between the wounded man and his tending healer and the attackers.

The free peoples of Middle Earth had won another battle, but all were too tired to celebrate. The enemy was piled as cord wood, along with their weapons and set ablaze as a reminder to others, while their own were treated in their various traditions.

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