User blog:Galasrinion/Erestor of the Ettenmoors -- Chapter II

''Second instalment or chapter or whatever to Erestor of the Ettenmoors, if the title wasn't enough. This will contain Erestor's journey to the Far Downs to visit the little Shire-folk.''

-Chapter II: The Downs of the West-

In the main room of the House of Elros, I ran into Amroth the messenger, who, apparently, was working exclusively for the Lord Elros.

"Amroth!" I called to the messenger, who was seated at a long, beech table with other associates of Elros. I approached him.

"Erestor," said he. "How may I be of assistance?" I shook my head.

"Nay, Amroth, I do not need service," I replied. "I wished merely to thank you for your help getting to the House of Elros."

"Anytime, as long as the strength of Elvenkind is not yet failed," he said. "Come, sit with us! I understand that there is one here that is eager to see you." I gazed around, looking for familiar faces. Finding none, I turned again to Amroth.

"Unfortunately, I cannot linger. I have business in a strange country known as the Shire, just east of the White Downs," I said. "I fail to have time for meeting newcomers and merchants."

"And what about very old friends?" I turned quickly, and Amroth left to speak with another Elf drinking miruvor. Behind me, I did see a familiar face, one with kind eyes, white teeth, and blond hair to match my own white.

"Gelmir!" I cried. Gelmir was my longtime friend since the destruction of Beleriand, where we met in Ossiriand, now eastern Lindon. He had harboured me after I fled as a refugee from Eregion long ago. At the Battle of the Five Armies, he had been called away to serve Lord Elrond in Imladris. Unlike me, he wished to travel to Valinor within the coming years. I had not seen him for a long time.

"Mellon Erestor!" he replied. "It is good to see you again, even at this fell time. What have you done to get yourself in the Court of Elros?" he laughed.

"Nothing too exciting," I joked. "The usual- volunteering for dangerous quests battling Halflings, daisies, and the occasional boulder." He laughed again.

"No, really," said Gelmir. "You're doing something out of the ordinary!"

"Battling Halflings is normal?" I wondered aloud. "Anyway," I said, "Lord Elros is sending me to Rhudaur to fight some despicable creature of Sauron known as the mountain troll chieftain." Gelmir's expression darkened.

"The mountain troll chieftain?" he said gravely. "That beast has caused trouble to Lord Elrond and the people of the Hidden Valley for far to long. None of us have been able to stop it. It has a great mace made of a felled tree and shards of old Angmar blades, and is equipped with an impenetrable set of massive Morgul-iron armour. It is a force to be reckoned with." My mouth felt dry.

"None have been able to slay it?" I asked rhetorically. "How am I supposed to defeat such a beast?" He shook his head sadly.

"I know not, but I do know that the realm of Rivendell is there to help," he said. "But you should leave quickly. Winter is not the time to fight such a beast. Supply, journey, and then hunt. The cold will be here within a few months." I nodded.

"You are right. I have overstayed my welcome," I said. "Námaríë, mellon Gelmir!"

"Namárië!" he replied. On that note, I finally set off on the Great East Road- and wherever it would take me.

I seldom travelled on the Great East Road, so I was quite unfamiliar with the terrain. As I walked along the path, I gazed into the horizon of the coastal plain I knew as my home. I would miss Lindon, but not as I missed Eregion. I knew that here, I would always have a place and hearth to return to. I travelled for hours, wistfully gazing into the hills of the Far West. Soon was the terrain to change.

I passed the easternmost outpost of the plain country, a tower of grandeur that stood proud and tall in the evening sun. Its blue roof seemed to scrape the clouds in the sky, and I viewed great Elven warriors in shining silver-blue armour standing past the intricate wooden barred windows. I did not stop, however, and pressed on into the Tower Hills, the Emyn Beraid. It was not long until over the high hills I glimpsed the great tower of Elostirion.

By now, dusk was falling, but I felt no fear. I was under the protection of my kin, the High Elves, and my allies, the Dúnedain of the North. I approached the gate of the white tower just as the Sun sank below the hills. The tower was even more grand than the one I saw on Lindon's edge: it was all white, made with chalk stone. Even in the dim light of night it seemed to shine, with enchanted blue lights of the Ñoldor glowing in its halls.

"I approach as a friend seeking shelter!" I called to the Elves in the tower. Swiftly, the gate opened. Inside, it was no less beautiful. Birch garland decorated the walls, and likewise tables were filled with foodstuffs and fresh mugs of miruvor and ale. I made my way to the top of the tower, where the lord or lady manning the place resided. I soon met her.

She was tall, clothed in a blue gown, with a golden circlet upon her head. Her eyes were sharp and dark, and her hair was gold.

"My lady," I said politely. "I have come seeking shelter for the night. I would only like to stay till morn, and then I shall leave." She nodded.

"I will comply with your demands, Elf. I am Nellas of the Emyn Beraid. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?" she asked kindly.

"Erestor of Harlindon," I declared. "I am set for the Shire, some eighty kilometres away. I am sent on an errand by Lord Elros under Círdan the Shipwright."

"I know the place well," answered Lady Nellas. "But what could your errand be?" I explained my situation to Nellas.

"That is mighty for one so simple to take up," she said approvingly. "Yet you have nothing to help you? That is most unlike Elros, to send one to do his bidding with no more than the white robes on his back," she said, looking at my flowing silver-white clothing.

"A shortage of supplies?" I suggested. "After I reach the Shire, he asked me to return to Mithlond. Maybe he will supply me then?"

"Nonetheless," said Nellas, "you should have protection. It has grown dangerous in Eriador at these dark times." She turned to a white cabinet and opened it. Out she drew a great High Elven sword, double-edged and wickedly sharp.

"Celebhathol I name it: silver-blade. It is yours to keep. No doubt it will serve you well. But, alas! You must rest. It will bring dawn quicker. I have quarters on the third level for you. Until another time." I thanked her and headed for bed.

I woke as dim sunlight flooded into the room. I quickly grabbed Celebhathol and left without a word. I had no time to lose. If I moved quickly, I should be able to reach Michel Delving within a full day.

After about three hours of uneventful travelling through the hills of the Emyn Beraid, the road gradually changed. Instead of the nicely paved High Elven brick road I was used to, it became choppy, uneven, and deteriorated Arnor brick from the golden age of Gondor. I no longer saw High Elves roaming the hills, but rather only the occasional Ranger; even then, they were hard to spot. I knew I had reached the Far Downs, much quicker than what I hoped for.

The Far Downs were less hospitable than the Tower Hills, and I saw nothing but ruins dotting the landscape. Oftentimes I left the road to investigate, but I usually found nothing.

I was on my second hour in the Far Downs when I found something to my interest- a once-great ruin of a tower made of withered Arnor brick. It was just north of the road, not too far away. I ran to investigate. The ground floor was made of dead plants and grasses, and the floors were made of unstable stone. The windows made of iron bars were rusted and sad. The stairs to each new floor had crumbled, leaving no easy way up. However, with my keen Elven eyes, I spied something strange on the rooftop. With a careful look, I recognised a chest.

Excitedly, I left the tower and jumped onto a broken ledge, attempting to scale the wall. Brick crumbled under my fingers, but I still kept going. Not long after I reached the window on the second floor, a voice called out to me from below.

"Hail, Elf-lord!" it cried. I looked below to see a male Ranger gazing at me. "Come down, or enter the tower! An Orc-host is on the move, and they must not find you! You are ill-equipped for the wilds of Eriador."

"An Orc-host?" I asked incredulously. "From whence does it come?"

"Gundabad and Rhudaur, my lord!" answered the Ranger. "They move swiftly east to this tower, led by Wargs!"

"My thanks for the warning," I called back as I slipped inside the treacherous tower. I took up a position near the easternmost window. In the distance, I saw many black shapes hurtling at ludicrous speed toward my position.

"Ready!" I cried. "They are coming! At least fifty Wargs, thirty Orcs, and maybe a hundred wicked men!" I saw Rangers in trees crouch down and draw arrows from their quivers. The Ranger who had been speaking to me jumped into a small ditch and waited. Within the minute, Wargs were upon us.

Arrows flew from all directions, striking Wargs and felling their Orcish riders. As fast as they sprinted, the Wargs could not break the line of Arnor. As the Orc-host was not concerned with me, I attempted to climb the tower from the inside. It was much easier in than out.

After a minute, I had reached the top of the tower. I looked east again and saw Hillmen and Gundabad Orcs and Uruks within 20 metres. I turned back to the chest, which was made of carved stone. I drew Celebhathol and pried open the chest with its glowing blue blade.

Inside, I found expensive treasures: many silver coins, an iron dagger, a saddle, gold, an old bow, arrows, and, best of all, a shining blue-silver nugget of metal. I instantly knew what it was.

"Mithril," I breathed. It was small, however, and I could not use it. I shook my head out of the clouds. The Rangers needed my help. I took up the old bow, hoping it wouldn't snap, and aimed arrows at the Hillmen and Orcs. Marksmanship was, strangely, a gift of mine. I released many arrows upon the host.

Many fell, but the Rangers were pushed back. I knew the cause was lost. I had to leave, and quickly. I spied a black horse trying to flee in terror from the remaining Wargs. I thought of a plan. It was risky, but I could do it. I readied the saddle.

Eyeing up the horse, I readied to jump. I took a breath and leaped. I fell fast, but I was accurate. I landed on the horse skillfully.

"Îdh", I said to the horse. Calm. The Orcs shrieked in surprise, and I galloped swiftly toward the Great East Road, cleaving a few Orcs with Celebhathol along the way.

Winded, I knew I had delayed, but I also knew that the horse would make up for that. At this speed, I could reach Michel Delving in an hour. I had done well, but I had to really shape up in case of another encounter like that happened. I just hoped the Elves and Rangers could repel the host, and that I could safely reach the Shire. I still had to be on my guard, for my journey was not nearly over.