Under the tower of Metrast,
South Belfalas
Mists started to gather around the Stone Thorn of the South
Cape or at least such was the designation that the Harad pirates
gave to the renowned Tower of Metrast.
Once a proud sight of the Belfalean might, the Tower now seemed a
lifeless structure on a barren hill overlooking a vast and cold
sea. Light winds pushed their way from the north and sensed this
last obstacle before their path. They were eager to flow over the
waters, but they avoided the Stone Thorn walls altogether. Still,
they managed to push back the mists, revealing again the lantern
signals that kept swinging from a dark window. The weak, gloomy
light invited the Prince's soldiery assembled before the opened
gates. Down there, the Dunedain banners drifted slowly with the
passage of the last breeze.
"Do you want me to send someone there, sir?", repeated
Sergeant Oromir.
"Mmm... I sense something strange. What could have gone
bad?", asked Alyster almost at full voice.
Oromir looked at the tower once more and shrugged.
Suddenly, Alyster seemed to awake. He clutched his teeth hard and
a determined look emerged on his face. He ordered his men to
proceed with the plans. "Wulfright will take the lead, and
the others will follow.", he said decisively, "Just
watch our backs... I've a strange feeling about this."
It took just a minute to take Alyster's words to his humblest
follower. As the men prepared their equipment and assumed their
battle formations, twice the signals from the tower appeared and
vanished. Then they ceased completely.
***
Benil kept his large hand covering the shaking mouth and twisting
nose while he approached the body that swung slowly from the
tree. The branch where the rope was tied creaked with each
balance of the corpse. The creature seemed young, noticed Benil.
But the shepherd had met no one like him and knew he could be
fouled as with Meneldor and Blanchon. The mage was really many
centuries younger than the seer, or at least they claimed that,
but Blanchon looked older than Meneldor. Except his eyes.
Blanchon's eyes were deep, but Meneldor's were much, much deeper.
So deep that more than once Benil felt imprisoned like a chicken
under a snake's hypnotic eyes. Disgusted, Benil pulled the
creature's clothes and looked at his face. It stroke the shepherd
that he looked like the slim creature that they had found at the
barn. Actually they could have been brothers, thought Benil.
"May Eru give peace to you now, stranger", he added
while he performed some religious signals on himself. As he did,
something inside the dark, ragged robes of the creature caught
his attention. His forefinger stopped is dance and slowly pushed
the robes. Engraved with a thin silver line there was the same
pictogram that Talis had showed him, the burning drop of some
liquid.
"Strange... Talis my like to hear about this...", he
murmured.
The shepherd scrubbed his neck and stepped aside. Then he
whistled and his dog followed him back to the pool.
***
Cuivenen, Sergeant of the White Runners, frowned at the strange
scene. The reddish-blond Rohirrim that he had met before stood on
top of a high pile of trunks, holding a sword that swung slightly
over an exposed neck. A dark warrior under it made no sound and
seemed resigned with his fate.
Never taking his eyes from his opponent, Leif yelled to the
approaching horsemen.
"Sergeant, prepare your men for ambush... This one had a
Horn to warn of your approach..."
Cuivenen and his men looked nervously from side to side.
"I am almost certain they are lying in wait all around us
but far enough away not to be seen easily...", reassured
Leif, "I have not as yet killed this foul warrior because I
believe we can question him and perhaps find some answers!"
Cuivenen gave a quick nod to Leif and shot some orders to the
cavalrymen. Most of the riders dismounted and took defensive
measures whilst a small squad averted the roadblock and scouted
the road ahead.
"Sergeant, you ought to... see this also...", Leif
called Cuivenen attention and drew it towards the veteran cavalry
man. He was carrying the dead body of his friend to his captain's
despair. The sight of the young Dunadan body stroke Cuivenen's
spirit as the hammer hits the anvil. All the sudden he became
rather angry, even violent.
Under the cold steel of the Rohan blade the dark warrior stood
still. Leif could not see him budge, not even when he scorned him
or pushed his sword tip on the leathered shoulder.
"Cowardly cur... Won't even try to escape now will you? I
should run you through now but that's what you want... Maybe some
persuasion followed by a slow death might make your tongue
loosen?"
Noticing that the Rohirrim had started to loose his temper, the
captain signaled his men to help Leif to bring the warrior down.
The strange creature did not fought the Rohirrim or the two
Gondorian soldiers that grabbed him, but did not helped them
also. He stood like a dead weight. He seemed to be dreaming
awaken, stated one of the soldiers. Or drugged, added the other.
***
The Dunadan navy commander watched suspiciously the fears that
boiled on the tough looking face of the veteran marine.
"So, how did the Prince destroyed those dark priests?",
asked Aratan.
"That, I know not, sir. I just know that their altars were
demolished, the priests just... disappeared."
"Disappeared?"
"Well, the Prince's men took them. In secrecy..."
"But they couldn't hide it from you, right Serpent?"
"Yes... No... I mean, I was around at the time, something I
seldom did mind you, and saw them being dragged..."
"Oh, I see..."
Serpent's eyes twined for an instant, as some old and silent
memory had punched them from his inner side.
Aratan took piety of the man for a moment, but then he remembered
how mischievous he could be and decided that this was not the
time to judge him. "Well then, let us take a look around
this place.".
"But..."
Aratan didn't wait for Serpent's argument and left the small
cave. Serpent looked like he was fighting to gain his own
lucidity but his nerves gave signs of being running over a blade
edge.
The captain immersed through the left passage that went deeper in
the mountain but the Cudin turned around and strode toward the
opposite passage, his weak side gaining the upper hand.
***
Wulfright looked over his shoulder and scanned the faces of the
men behind him. Three score men waited silently for his orders.
"Who's gonna pay'?", he shouted abruptly.
"The bastards who dare to stay!", all his men spitted
the warcrie and their spirits sorbed a frenetic energy. Wulfright
scrubbed his blond beard and smiled. Slowly he raised the famous
heavy Slitter and took the lead. The Iron Watchers marched
downhill behind him.
As Wulfright reached the small valley and begun his ascent on the
opposing hill, where the Tower had its roots, Oromir and Alyster
ordered the Crown Guards to follow. There were no signs of Elvorn
and his rangers, but Alyster knew that they were at hearing
distance. The slow, watchful march of Alyster lasted no longer
than ten minutes before he ordered a stop at the base of the
hill. Wulfright had already reached the stone wall that circled
the tower. From the distance it had not looked impressive, but
now, the seven meters tall wall dwarfed Wulfright's troop.
Alyster watched two Lines of the Iron Watchers spreading out
quickly around the tower, while Wulfright stepped in through the
opened gate with the 2nd Iron Watchers.
Behind Alyster stood Ragnar, his standard bearer. Once more he
unfolded the banner of his master's house and prepared to signal
his orders. Almost as he finished raising it, sounds of battle
came from the tower. Wulfright had found something! The sounds of
battle immediately spurred Alyster in the military discipline
that was typical of a serious leader. Drawing his sword, he
ordered Ragnar to signal the remaining Watchers to go and support
Wulfright. When the Watchers began to move, he ordered the
rangers and the 1st line of Crown Guards to protect their rear
and the 4th line to move quickly after Wulfright. The Watchers
that stood around the tower walls started to re-assemble into
battle lines and shortly all of them flowed through the tower
gate.
"I hope that that hot-head is not in serious trouble",
thought Alyster as he prepared himself for battle.
***
As Meneldor caught his breath, the faintest noise punched
Fletch's attention. Slow moving feet approached from the path
from the beach. It looked like they were being dragged rather
than walking normally. But what had really caught Fletch's
presence were the metallic sounds that flowed with the low
sounds.
In a hushed voice, Fletch called the elven seer. "Meneldor,
something's coming up the trail from behind."
The elf raised his head slowly and Fletch pulled him by his
collar with urgency.
"Hey...."
"Quick we must warn the others.", said the Hobbit
before taking off.
***
"I should expect this from a Cudin, I was told you were
tough hardened troops but I should of known better",
Aratan's voice flowed in a low and harsh whisper. Still, Serpent
heard it perfectly. The marine turned around only to see that his
captain stood right behind him. He gave him a blank look and
Aratan twisted his face before turning his back to the man.
The Dunadan continued along the passage and noticed that Serpent
stood at the fork, now only a shadow that kept observing him.
Aratan signaled him to follow but to his despair Serpent seemed
unconvinced...
Resigned Aratan proceeded down the passage that kept curving
gently to the right, around the big cavern. After a while he came
to a larger area, where big stalactites and stalagmites abounded.
There were several vases and wood boxes all around. Carefully,
Aratan inspected them. Although the boxes were closed and nailed
and Aratan had no idea of their contents, the vases could be
easily opened. Looking into several he noticed that they were
empty or full of cereals. Several barrels were also stacked on a
corner. "If all these vases and barrels hold food and
water", Aratan estimated, "a small army like mine would
be supplied for three or four months". Finding nothing else,
the Dunadan went back to a smaller wood box that he had seen on
the top a pile. Still, it was a meter long by two score
centimeters wide. It was very heavy and something metallic
clinked inside when he pulled it. "Weapons and
equipment?", thought Aratan. But he could not prove it here.
He had nor equipment nor light, not even the needed time. He
proceeded down the passage.
Along the corridor Aratan looked through another slit into the
cavern but saw nothing special, nor anybody. Some steps ahead he
confronted with yet another slit. This time, however, he could
see that the entrance to the cavern below could be made through
double doors that stood at the far wall.
***
The last of the Watchers had already immersed in the tower
courtyard when the 4th line of the Guards came close to the gates
in a fast march.
As the Gondorian soldiers moved uphill, a sudden thunderous sound
made the earth shake for a second. It looked like some wall had
just collapsed. Lots of dust and shouting broke the early evening
peace. Alyster urged his men forward.
"I don't like that sound, Ragnar," cried Alyster.
"Let's move on quickly!" Drawing his sword he finally
ordered the 1st Line and Oromir to come full ahead, leaving only
the rangers to watch their backs.
***
Talis crawled to the edge of the cliff and looked down. A rather
large boulder kept his trained eyes from reaching the small
beach, but at least he could see the last stretch of the trail
that came up. Talis passed a dusty hand over his hair and looked
for the dark ship. It was nowhere to be seen but it could be
hidden on one of the hundred small bays of Metrast, thought the
ranger. The Dunadan raised to his feet and signaled to his
companions that there was no one on the vicinities. Looking
westward he realized that there was a spot on the trail that ran
along the cliff from where he should be able to spy on the beach.
As he wandered if he should leave his friends for a while, he
heard some branches moving behind him and quickly sneaked for
cover.
After a fair while Benil staggered out of the thick undergrowth,
with Bogas behind him. He sat on the ground near Talis and
reached for a drink.
"You seem disturbed, my friend.", observed the ranger
in his deep voice as he sheathed his sword.
Benil just waved his hand in the air and shook his head. After he
finished his drink, he cleaned Bogas's coat of any burrs and
stood up. "Talis, there are weird things going on here. In
amongst the thicket over there we found a rotting body hanging
from a branch and filled with cross bolt arrows. It looked like
its heart had been ripped out as well. From what I saw of the
body back at the barn that Leif killed, he looked much the
same."
"Are you sure?"
"If I remember well. Can I see that symbol you found in the
hut?"
Once more, Talis produced the small piece of cloth before Benil's
eyes.
"Indeed! His robe had the same symbol on it. Exactly the
same, although the one I saw was sewed with a fine silver line
and not stamped like that one. A masterful work, Talis, believe
me. And I know much of men's handicraft..."
"I wonder if that creature was the cause of that turmoil I
saw..."
"Huh?", the shepherd raised one eyebrow.
"Oh... Back there in the woods I found some traces that lead
to a very small chasm. There I found evidences of fight. A
fistfight, I think..."
"You also found a body...?"
"No. No signs at all. Not even blood or any lost equipment.
I wander if they caught someone or just fought between
themselves."
"In either case, this creature could be your fighter."
"Maybe, I can't be sure..."
Suddenly quick steps called both men's attention. Fletch was
racing toward them. Quickly, the Hobbit dashed to Talis and
spilled out, "Something is behind us and it don't sound
nice. Quick, quick.."
"Calm down!", ordered Talis, "Where are
they?"
Fletch waved his hand in the general direction of the path in
front of Meneldor.
Talis nodded to Fletch and Benil and drew his sword once again.
In response, the Hobbit readied his bow and slowly made his way
back to where he had left Meneldor.
***
After several tries, the angry Sergeant gave up trying to
question the dark warrior, but not before some shouting and even
a punch that made him bent without a sound. Even then there was
no answer. Visibly worried about the loss of the young Dunadan,
Cuivenen left the deaf and numb warrior and shrugged helplessly
at Leif.
"He is yours, Rohirrim. Do what you please." With that
Cuivenen stepped aside and looked toward the White Runners that,
having secured their position, started searching the woods in
their vicinity. "I have to inspect my men".
Leif looked into his unseeing else and then grinned sadistically.
He still wandered if the warrior could understand his language,
but he made some unmistakable gesture as he spoke to him once
more, "He's not worth it Sergeant... Kill him... I have to
get back to my friends I feel that they need me!" Sheathing
Frostbane Leif leaped aboard Ranak and wheeled him round ready to
spur him on toward the beach...
"Send word to the headmaster that we will arrive slightly
later than expected. We have to clear a path through this pile
and ride with extra care", said the sergeant.
"I will, sergeant! Ayah!", Leif spurred Ranak into a
gallop and rode like the wind for the beach.
***
The Dunadan from Dol Amroth almost died when he sensed a hand on
his shoulder. Serpent had joined him.
"Don't do that ag...", Aratan started to criticize the
man but Serpent promptly signaled him to be quiet. He seemed to
be listening for something that Aratan did not. He whispered that
someone was coming. It was true. Aratan started to hear some
indistinct sounds, also. It did not take long before both men
realized that some boots echoed down the passage. It seemed that
a small group walked with no concerns, even speaking aloud.
Aratan could not understand what they were saying or even if they
spoke a known language, but he recognized that he would find very
soon he if waited for too long. But he didn't. Uneasy overcame
both men and they sneaked out of the caves in time to avoid any
stranger.
***
As Alyster crossed the wall gate, a terrible spectacle presented
to his eyes.
The wall was roughly a circle around the tower, that stood in the
center of a large, empty courtyard. Most of his men were here.
The Watchers stood aiming their bows at a dark hole that had been
opened on the fourth level of the tower. It was a big hole,
almost four meters wide and two meters tall on his highest part.
Dust and small mortar rocks slided down the hole, but Alyster saw
no one there.
To the captain's despair, several of his men laid dead on the
field. A handful of dark warriors corpses were also scattered
around, though most were under the hole on the tower. A
particularly broad and muscled dark body stood on the stairs that
lead to the second level, where the tower door was placed.
Several bodies of the Prince's soldiers surrounded this
impressive dark warrior, but apparently he had not been able to
hold Wulfright and the 2nd line of the Iron Watchers
that had already forced the door and were inside the tower.
As Alyster rushed to a wounded warrior that stood nearby, he saw
his own Crown Guards already rushing toward the stairs.
"What happened?", he asked.
With visible effort, the wounded man stood up and told Alyster
that most of the dead belonged to the 1st line of the
Iron Watchers. They had succumbed to a dreadful thunder that
emanate from the tower and smashed the wall. The falling rocks
had done most of the dirty work. "The others fell under a
sudden heavy rain of crossbow bolts from the hole and the Tower
balcony.", he added.
"And him?", asked Alyster pointing to the huge warrior.
"Gave some fight to Wulfright and to the 2nd
Watchers. But Slitter found its mark today."
"And you?"
"I am all right, sir. Have a crossbow bolt on my shoulder,
but I'll survive."
"Good. The physicist will help you. He is behind the gates,
go now."
"Thank you, sir."
From the door, the shouting and battle cries increased in
intensity.
"What a mess!" thought Alyster, trying to concentrate
on the tactical plans and studies of the Gondorian Academy. With
the aid of Ragnar, he signaled to what was left of the 1st
Watchers to retreat and regroup out of the tower with the wounded
and the 3rd Watchers to cover their companions' retreat.
"Oromir", he shouted, "I'll leave you the command
of the 1st Guard. I'm going to the tower."
Rushing towards the stairs, he took over the leader of the 4th
Guards, "Let's go to the aid of that hothead of
Wulfright!".
***
The seer had already came out of his reverie and looked for a
good spot to remain out of sight of the approaching traveler. He
prepared his bow and took a quiver of arrows out of his
equipment. Then he stood quiet, listening intently for any clues
to the traveler's identity as Fletch came to him again.
Several minutes passed and the tension grew on the companions
hidden around the route to the trail. Right in front of the
trail, Fletch and Meneldor waited between two small rocks. The
Hobbit looked behind him and saw that Blanchon and Mara had
already understood what was going on. Blanchon gave a short nod
to the Hobbit before disappearing completely in the woods.
Looking to the west, he saw Benil gesturing in silence to Bogas.
The dog rushed to his master and laid down at his and Talis'
side.
Heavy clouds started to form on the sky, calling the gloom of the
day before its own time. A soft wind picked up some dust and
pushed it up, in a swirl that lost momentum and spread the earth
on Fletch's face.
"Phew!", he spitted, "What a foul..."
Suddenly, the elven seer put a hand over the Hobbit's mouth.
"Mmmpphhh!!!", cried the short warrior as he tried to
get free. But before he had managed his eyes went wide and the
hair on his scalp raise as he looked at the border of the hill.
First he saw a head. It was bent over, looking at his feet, then
the chest appeared and the Hobbit realized that what he thought
it would be one of the strange warriors or nude men was a young
man. A Dunadan actually, by its size. His face was remained young
and beautiful traces adorned it, but it showed a great deal of
concern and lots of bruises told that he had met some hard times.
The young Dunadan marched slowly, dragging his feet. Fletch
realized that his arms were tied behind his back and that some
metal chain fastened above his feet hindered his movement.
"I knew it. I heard.... mmmffffff....", the Hobbit's
mouth once again fell prey to Meneldor's firm hand.
A dark warrior followed the prisoner and pushed violently his
shoulder. The young man almost fell but did not complained. The
warrior was holding the tip of the rope that secured the
Dunadan's arms and used it to pull back his prisoner. This time
the young man protested briefly. Behind the warrior, appeared a
tall and thin man on black robes, his arms crossed and his head
hidden under his cap. Fletch thought that he heard this man
launch a quiet laugh when the prisoner cried. The procession
continued. Another two warriors marched behind the tall man.
These two held long pikes over their shoulders and on the tip of
one of the pikes, a lantern swung with each step of the warrior.
Over their dark clothes, brown leather armours protected the
these creature. Dust raised again with the newcomers but this
time it was blown towards the sea. Fletch started to feel
restless when another three warriors made their way from the
trail and closed the parade. These were archers. Each one had a
long bow and quiver on their backs, and soft leather armours.
They also wore a leather band on their foreheads that held their
long, white hairs in place. They were much taller than the other
three warrior, almost as tall as the man under the dark, simple
vests. They seemed less muscled than the other warriors, but
nevertheless, they seemed to possess bulky forearms.
Fletch looked at Meneldor, but the seer just kept watching the
men closing in. Then the Hobbit noticed the most amazing
appearance of the dark party. A small, furred being walked
alongside the robbed man. It was very similar to the one they had
caught on the barn, thought this one was richly decorated. A
large green hat with long flaps cast twisted shadows on his
riches golden and brown clothes. The only piece he left behind
was the boots. He had bare feet, but once again that was the
farthest that Fletch went as calling him a Hobbit. The strangest
fact was that he seemed to miss his right eye, or at least he had
it hidden under a small black piece of clothe.
Once again the Hobbit looked at Meneldor. The warriors were
heading their way and in a moment it would been too late to
escape.
Leif pulled Ranak's reins and the heavy horse came down to a
gentle pace. Leif looked from side to side but saw or heard
nothing. Two necrophagous birds left the road with loud shrieks,
complaining with Ranak. The horse replied with a powerful and
indifferent snooze. The warrior advanced toward the turned cart
at the rhythmic sounds of Ranak steps. Fruits and vegetables
filled the road and a broken wheel laid to one said. The bloodied
bodies of the two peasants were covered onions and white
cabbages.
Leif frowned. Vinhir's fork was just ahead, by his estimates. The
merciless raiders could not be far from here, and maybe they
stood between him and Vinhir. More troubles ahead, he thought.
***
A slightly tired army left the mountains paths of Ered Hith and
rested at the shadows of the Windy Woods. Dark clouds filled the
sky over Tol Tarneldor and the seated marines pulled their capes
to protect them from the raising cold swifts.
Aratan observed his men as he walked with Angorn between their
ranks. They had seen quite some action. They had given no
quarter. Four Cambeleg have been slain and another three had
serious wounds. That was not a happy balance, but still, their
enemies took most of the expenses. Behind, they left all but
three of them on the burning pyres. Those southrons had fought
with a determined vigor, even when outnumbered by the elite of
the navy. They were no children, Angorn conceded.
Both officers reached the two Cambeleg that kept the three
prisoners under arms. Aratan observed them. The two men from
Harad looked frightened, a pale image of the fearsome warriors
that they proved to be on the battlefield. But the strange
crossbowman looked at him defiantly, a proud look clearly shining
on his eyes. He had the same height as Aratan, but was clearly
less bulky. Aratan looked him directly and neither contender
broke the gaze. Under a tense climate, the strange warrior smiled
cynically and stared at his own nails in a completely
disrespectful manner to an officer.
"Angorn, bring me that Cudin that knows Haradrim.",
Aratan ordered.
"Right away, sir."
"And you, we will see how we will deal with you..."
The crossbowman gave no signs that he had understood him, but his
eyes fell again on the captain while Aratan waved aside a fallen
leave.
***
To the left side of the strange procession, Talis and Benil
raised carefully their heads. As the prisoner was pushed in the
direction of the pool, Talis and Benil came out of their line of
sight. Benil let his tension settle a little. "That young
Dunadan...", whispered the gentle man, "They caught a
foul young Dunadan, probably playing around..."
"You could not be more wrong.", answered Talis without
breaking his attention.
"What do you mean?"
"He is far from his home. Very far.... He is a
Corsair."
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