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

This chapter will contain the ending of Erestor's first journey to the Shire.

-Chapter III: Over Hill and Under Hill-

After my risky escape from the hordes of the north, I reached fairer lands in no more than ten minutes. Although no less windswept, the realm ahead of me was surely more beautiful and safer than the dastardly Far Downs. Instead of craggy boulders of simple stone, the hills glowed white with chalk stone teeth. The summits of many hills were laid with chalk as well, like low mountains covered in snow: the White Downs of Eriador.

There was one variable I didn't like, however: it was quiet, unusually quiet. Birds sung and wind whistled, but no Rangers stood talking, and not even Orcs shrieked in nearby caverns. I wondered if a greater power held these downs, or if it simply was a barren and useless place. Nonetheless, I travelled along peacefully; that is, until, I camp across the camp.

It was ragged and dirty, not well blended into the surrounding green-white countryside. Tall torches stood around the perimeter of the grounds, held by charred wooden poles. I steered my horse off the road into a nearby wood, where I tied her to a rotten fence post that happened to be part of a long-ruined house. Swiftly and quietly, I approached the camp.

As I got closer, Celebhathol began to glow blue. I halted, looking into the tents for my nearby enemy. I snuck into the tent closest to me. Inside, I found a chest filled with food for the Orcs that obviously occupied the camp: rotting flesh, maggoty bread, and a mug filled with a strange, rancid red liquid.

I left the tent, but on the other side this time. There I found my host, who saw me immediately.

"Who're you, maggot?" cried the massive Orc who stood before me. He carried a great staff with a human skull situated on top, and great, wicked armour of some steel I did not recognise. His red, baleful eyes bored into mine.

"Bah! Off with it! I'll bleed you like a stuck pig!" Before he could strike, I recovered my senses. Relying purely on instinct, I rushed forward and jabbed upward with Celebhathol and danced nimbly away. The blade caught the chieftain on the nose and raked to his right eye. He howled in pain.

"C'mere, let me split your head open!" He tried to follow me up the hill I had climbed for the moment. I backed away, and suddenly found my back at a boulder of chalk. I thought. I could use this to my advantage! I turned as he rushed at me, jumping into the white chunk of stone. Once atop it, I looked down upon my opponent. Wasting no time, I jumped down again, bringing Celebhathol into a deadly downward arc. My aim was not true, however, and my blade hacked at his chest rather than skull.

Nonetheless, the Orc staggered back a few steps. Using his pain to help me, I swirled my blade and caught him in the midriff. He fell quickly. I didn't look back as I returned to the camp, setting fire to the black canvas with some sulphur matches I had obtained at the ruined house. Wasting no time, I unleashed my horse and began ridding into the east.

It was only a half hour until my journey came to a stopping point yet again, but this time, it was with good tidings. On the right side of the road, a tall tower came into sight. Not a ruined tower from the time of Arnor, and especially not a tower alike to the ones I glimpsed in Lindon, but a simple one, made of wooden planks and sawn logs from spruce trees found commonly around the area.

Manning the tower were two Rangers, one on the ground floor and another on the first. Along with those reassurances, a banner of the Dúnedain of Arnor flew proudly on the top of the structure. I approached eagerly.

"Hail, sons of Arthedain!" I cried in greeting. "I am Erestor, servant of Lindon!"

"Hail, Erestor!" called they. "We welcome you to our abode. Enter!" I dismounted my horse and tied her to the fences attached to the tower and began climbing the old wooden ladder up the tower. I pushed open the trapdoor and got on my feet. It was small and slightly cramped on the ground floor, but it seemed more comfortable than the above floors. The first Ranger awaited me.

"Greetings, Master Elf! I am Arvedui, steward of this fort and master of this house."

'As if you could call it that,' I thought to myself. "Thank you for the warm welcome," I said. "Not very large and spacious in here, is it?"

Arvedui shook his head sadly. "No, it is not, but we are far luckier than many of our kinsmen. Alas, this is a hall fit for kings of Arnor in this age. We are a poor people, Erestor, and we know not hearth and home like in days of old."

"Despair not," I said. "A new age is coming; Elves are departing over the Sea, and a new power is rising! Many say Sauron stirs great evils in the east, and I know this to be true. However, another power, more hidden, is rising here in the west. Not the north, nay, that evil will be stilled soon, but one among you, I have heard, is on the rise." Leaving Arvedui puzzled, I ascended to the first floor, to be greeted by the second Ranger. He was more grey and grim.

"Good afternoon, Elf-lord," he said gruffly. "I am Aravorn. How can I assist you?"

"Have you anything to eat?" I asked hopefully. "I've had naught but roast chestnut for the day!"

Aravorn nodded. "Aye," said he, "we have something for ye. Come upstairs." I followed him to the second and final floor. Here, it was even more cramped than the other floors. In back, there was a weathered wooden chest waiting. Aravorn opened it and dug in.

"We don't have much, but will this do?" he asked, showing me a juicy pear.

"Yes," I said, feeling bad for taking what little the Rangers owned. I took it and began eating.

"How far to the Shire?" I questioned, hoping that I could find more food there than take all of the Rangers' here.

"Eight kilometres," said Aravorn. "What's your business with them Shire-folk?"

"Errands," I said vaguely. "I need a few supplies, and the Shire was the place to get them."

"What kind of supplies?" he pressed. I arched an eyebrow.

"Foodstuffs. Why does it matter?" I said inquisitively. Aravorn shifted uneasily.

"My apologies," he apologised. "It's just that our job is to protect the Halflings, to keep things out of the Shire that mean to cause harm. It's a special task our captain, Halbarad, assigned us, of Grey Company." This meant nothing to me, of course. My knowledge of Eriador and its enhabitants were generally limited.

"Very well," I said, cutting the conversation short. "I really should get going. I need as much time as I can get in the Shire." I left, thanking Arvedui on my way out.

I reached Michel Delving in ten minutes, going at full speed. It was an early nine o' clock when I arrived, to my greatest delight. I thought Lindon was unrivalled in beauty, but I was wrong: it might even have been beat out by the country of the Little-folk. The Shire was rich and green, rolling hills in every direction. Windmills stood atop proud hills, and farms in the vales. Most strange, however, were the windows in the hillsides.

As I got closer, I found gates and large, round, colourful doors with golden knobs. Hobbit holes. I singled out a hole with a blue door and a stone wall around its small garden, and I knocked on the door, leaving my horse in the garden.

"Hullo! Anyone home?" I called. I heard muffled voices through the door.

"An Elf's at the door, Fred!" said a high female voice.

"An Elf?" said an old male voice, Fred.

"Yes!" she screeched softly. "What's he doing here? Tell him to go away!"

"Go away, Belladonna?" said Fred. "Well, that's not kind at all. Let's pretend we're not home."

"Good idea," agreed Belladonna. They fell silent.

"Hullo?" I called again. I gazed around awkwardly at the pine forests and flowers in the garden.

"Not home!" cried Fred. "No, not home at all! On vacation at the next hole over, thank you!"

"I can hear you," I said, amused.

"How does he know?" said Belladonna, distraught.

"No, really, we're on vacation!" tried Fred. "Come back later-"

"Never!" supplied Belladonna.

"I mean, come back never," corrected Fred. "Yes, never, that's right."

"I know you're there," I tried again.

"He's a wizard, Belladonna!" said a hushed Fred. "I can't do nothing to get him to go away!"

"Wizard?" said Belladonna incredulously. "He's a wizard?"

"That's right!" I said helpfully.

"By the hair on my feet, it must be old Gandalf in disguise!" Belladonna said.

"Now, don't be ridiculous- ow!" complained Fred.

"Now, be on your best behaviour. We don't want no fireworks going off in the parlour!" replied Belladonna crossly. She opened the door.

"Morning, dear Gandalf!" said Belladonna. She curtsied. She was wearing a light pink corset and a white bonnet. Her hair was curly and a grey-brown. She lacked shoes.

"Gandalf?" I said, thinking of the wandering wizard in the pointy hat that occasionally rode into Lindon to visit Círdan. A look of horror crossed over her face, and she stepped back inside quickly.

"Going back on vacation!" she said, slamming the door. Inside, she and Fred began talking again.

"What if he's not Gandalf?" said a scared Belladonna.

"I don't know, dear," said Fred, exasperated. "Too late now. I told you- ow!"

"Oh, don't question Gandalf, you old buffoon! How dare you lock him out!" Belladonna shrieked. Fred groaned and opened the door again.

"Hullo, Gandalf!" he said cheerily. He wore a green shirt with yellow buttons, and had grey, curly hair with kind blue eyes. "Welcome to our home, Thickety Lane! I am Fredegar Underhill, and this is my wife, Bella-"

"Belladonna Underhill," Belladonna said eagerly, curtsying again.

"Grandpa, who's at the door?" called a voice, revealing a extraordinarily short young Halfling with curly blonde hair and a blue dress.

"My granddaughter, Primrose Brandybuck, but we just call her Rose," Fred explained. "Come on in, how about some second breakfast?" I leaned down and squeezed into the hole after Fred.