Session 32: The Longest Journey

March 14, 2966…

The Company arrived within the Trollshaws, and Arthanar called out in the form of some language sounding like a bird singing. After a moment, more birds answered. Arthanar turned to his companions, "We are clear to enter."

After a small march through the dense woods, what opened before them was breath taking. To believe such beauty still exists is almost unfathomable, especially after the recent things the Company had seen.

Crossing the Bridge into Rivendall that passes over the river known as The Bruinen, beyond is a magnificent set of structures, surrounded by mountains, trees, and cascading waterfalls. There are few things that could so easily steal your breath away in awe, and the first time seeing Rivendell, was one of those times.

Several Rivendell elves, adorned in colorful clothing, moved slowly through Rivendell, casting a gaze at the Company as they are escorted by Arthanar. There are some who pause and watch and whisper in wonder, for the people of Rivendell, when making trades with merchants, did so at the edge of the Trollshaws, never inside Rivendell itself. Passing through a courtyard with a magnificent fountain, a large set of stairs cascades upwards not far beyond it; and it is there, a home like no other, rest softly atop a hill. 

“That is the home of Lord Elrond,” Arthanar whispered.

Ascending the stairs, the double doors are etched with magnificent runes and etchings of trees and animals, woven together, with the moon and sun, and ships sailing on waters.

Inside, the Company is escorted to the Eastern Porch, where a tall figure, hands rested on the railing, gazed outwards towards the waterfall just beyond Elrond’s home.

“Lord Elrond,” Arthanar’s voice was soft.

The stoic figure who had seemed frozen, gazing outward, turned. Lord Elrond was neither young, nor old; his body appeared physically fit, but his eyes conveyed an ancient wisdom that has seen more years than most on Middle-Earth. A slow smile emerged, “Arthanar, son of Balrannor, it is good that my eyes gaze upon you once more.” He extended his hands, taking Arthanar into his own. His smile faded slightly, as he said, “Your spirit is heavy with shadow.”

Arthanar nodded, “It is true, Lord Elrond. There are a great many things I’ve bore witness to, that perhaps, sheltered as I was here in Rivendell, I was not ready for. I have spent much time to try and make sense of many of these things.”

Lord Elrond released Arthanar’s hands and gazed past him. “And these people behind you,” Lord Elrond’s eyes fell to each. “Based on your letters to me from Bree, this must be Lodin,” he nodded to Lodin, “and that means this one here is Maethordan, the Ranger of the North, I’ve heard of. And the last one, Welton?”

Welton, in awe, simply nodded, dumbfounded.

“These are the ones who recovered the huine-blade from the cursed wight,” Lord Elrond continued.

“William was his name,” Arthanar offered, though Lord Elrond had made no effort to try and recall the human’s name.

Lord Elrond’s gaze is distant. “This huine-blade reminds me of an ancient evil, an ancient evil long lost, long forgotten,” he murmured; it’s unclear if his murmuring is intentionally loud enough to barely be heard, or if he is truly lost in thought. “The way the blade’s curse works is one of great deception. Deception is the hand of the Enemy.”

He then looked clearly again, “Why have you come all this way to Rivendell? What brings you all here that a letter could not suffice?”

"Lord Elrond, I come with the burden of a failed stewardship,” Lodan began. “While we fought the evil in the Bree-lands I recovered an axe of which I took stewardship. I have been seeking it's true owner, but while in my care it was broken asunder. Since then I have learned the maker of the axe has a daughter whom I can return it to and also who can repair it. It will require mithril. We have some mithril recovered while rooting out a foul beast in the shire. However, it is cursed and we seek your advice on whether the curse will lift when it is smelted to repair the axe or if we must lift the course first and how?" Lodin took out Rukhsfelak but left the cursed 'mithril' object in his pouch until beckoned.

Lord Elrond gazed at the shattered Rukhsfelak - his eyes reflected something... something familiar. "A shattered weapon," he whispered. "How strange that a shattered weapon would come before me."

He heaved a small sigh. "Did you say Mithril?" he asked, as if realizing only now what you had said, the shattered weapon before him, having distracted him from your words. "Cursed Mithril? May I see this cursed Mirthril you speak of? I can only assume you have it among one of you to have traveled this far from Bree."

Maethordan smiled to himself seeing that the rumors of Lord Elrond's Wisdom were not exaggerated.

Lodin began to reach into his pouch, when his gaze met with Lord Elrond's. “Where can we place it? It is not safe to touch. I did once and received dark visions."

Elrond gestured to the small table, with a raise eye brow he asked, "Visions? What kind of visions?" as he awaits Lodin to place the Mithril on the table.

"It was a vision of someone named Zerikahn receiving orders from a dark figure with a crown to use the creature we slew to terrorize and destroy the places of men." Lodin dumped the token onto the table.

The volume at which the black mithril landed on the small table had made it sound as if it possessed the weight of a giant boulder. The sound of metal clashing with wood seemed to echo and momentarily drown the sound of the peaceful waterfalls that surrounded Rivendell.

Lord Elrond stared at the black mithril. "It can not be," he finally said after a moment. "That looks like Galvorn... Galvorn grew out of Eöl's skill of metallurgy skill he learned from his Dwarven friends of the Blue Mountains. Galvorn was said to be as hard as Dwarf-steel, while remaining supple and malleable. As a great smith and friend of the Dwarves of Nogrod and Belegost, Eöl devised galvorn, a black metal of great strength and malleability, which he fashioned into personal armor. It was assumed its secret died with Eöl."

"That trinket," he continued, "is one of the Witch-King's emblems. This is old. Could the Witch-King have learned the secret of galvorn? Could one of his agents learned to forge the secrets long lost with Eöl's death?"

"It is not mithril itself," Lord Elrond corrected, "but it is easily mistaken as such and just as durable. This would indeed work in repairing this weapon you've laid out before me."

"Give me a moment," he excused himself, but before leaving the area, he turned, "Arthanar. Walk with me."

After some time, Lord Elrond returned to the Eastern Porch. A figure moved behind him, but it was clearly not Arthanar.

Lord Elrond stepped to the side, "This is Gahlyda." A female elf of Rivendell of stark contrast stepped forward. Her skin was as tan as the earthen soil, her hair long and black. "She has been my messenger to keep a weary eye on the shadow beyond Rivendell." Lord Elrond looked at the black mithril, "It will take me several days to examine was curse lies on this metal of midnight and what means, if possible, to break it. In the meantime, Gahlyda has informed me that she has spotted a small band of trolls near the Golden Tree we call Melthinorn. I would ask you go with her and find a way, not necessarily to slay the trolls, as I fear their blood may spoil the land - but delay them in some manner until daylight approaches, or they realize daylight approaches and departs."

He paused, "Arthanar would not be able to go. There is a mark of shadow upon him, which I hope to find a way to ease from him."

Lord Elrond looked, waiting for the Company's response.

Lodin looked across the table, "Do you suppose the light from Azanfalek could drive them away Maethordan?"

The Ranger gave it some thought. "It is possible but unlikely, the sun is far brighter than Azanfelak's light, using it's light I may be able to hurt them more easily. It is an honor to meet you Gahlyda, the trolls you spoke of, how do they protect themselves during the day currently?"

Gahlyda smiled, "The honor is mine, if but even a fraction of what Arthanar has shared of your deeds is truthful. As for the trolls, they only come at night. However, they seek to pluck the leaves and branches of Melthinorn in an effort to replicate the unique tree's fruit, for which it bares. We use it for Miruvor - but without the proper care, the fruits that Melthinorn bares can be extremely intoxicating. So the trolls break and snap Melthinorn's branches off, and climb upon her thick roots, damaging Melthinorn."

Maethordan asked, "Has any one seen where they come from?" Maethordan stopped, thought for a moment and added, "Perhaps we can get them to eat the fruit and get drunk!"

Gahlyda nodded, "Melthinorn is currently baring her fruit as Spring has just come. But moving three intoxicated trolls may prove difficult. Unless you think to allow them to take the fruit, so much so, until the sunlight comes?"

Maethordan asked, "Why would need to move them if we get them to eat fruit at the tree it may well slow them enough for them to get caught by the sun?"

Gahlyda nodded, "That is a plan that may yet work."

As the Company arrived, they could hear the trolls debating, long before they had seen them.

It was odd to hear the trolls speaking a guttural version of the Westeron tongue. Their voices were deep, their words, slow and dragged out, like a toddler speaking; mixed with the force of thunder rolling across the sky.

The three trolls are clamored around Melthinorn, the Golden Tree. These large giants almost looked to be something between human and troll, their appearance less horrific than standard cave trolls.

"I should get more tonight," one of the trolls wined.

"You got more last time, Jack," the other pointed out.

"That's not true, Kurt," the one named Jack protested. "Otto handed them out evenly last night, he did!"

The third one, named Otto, if their words were to be believed, seemed to be struggling on counting and dividing the eight golden apples he had picked and laid out before him.

It was roughly 11 p.m.

Daylight would be quite some time away.

It had been two hours of observing the trolls, with the Company exchanging glances, trying to come up with ideas...

The trolls had debated the entire time about who gets what share.

Finally, Otto said, "We gots enough. I has nine for me. You both have three! That's enough."

Gahlyda whispered, "We must do something to delay them or there will be back tomorrow to damage the tree further."

Lodin had spent the last two hours learning to imitate their voices. He figured they were dumb enough to think a thought was their own if they hear it said in their own voice. He aimed to keep the argument going.

"Oi, I'm decidin', so I get mo'. Stop fussin'." he said in Otto's voice.

The one, apparently named Jack, looked to Otto. "I wasn't fussin' none. You said we were done. But yous got more than him and I."

"Well, that's because I am the leader," Otto proclaimed. "I'm the one who found the tree."

"Well, actually I did," Kurt argued. "I thought it was real gold."

"True," Jack nodded to Kurt. "He did find it."

"Right, well, true, he found it," Otto adjusted. "But I found the fruit."

"But you wouldn't have found the fruit if I didn't find the tree," Kurt persisted. "So I think I should get more than Jack."

"Oi, well that ain't none too fair," Jack snapped. "I was on your side."

"I know, but I wants my share, I did find the tree," Kurt shrugged.

The trolls recycled and fell back into another debate; long enough that four hours had passed!

"Oi, we've been out here a long time," Otto looked at the sky. "The moon's gone away. Sun should be comin' up soon. We need to get back to the cave."

Lodin whispered, "Maybe either Welton or Maethordan should sneak up and steal a couple of fruit, enough for them to notice and fight about it."

Welton placed his hand on Maethordan's wrist and whispered, "Allow me."

Maethordan nodded and said, "Go ahead, try and put them back in Otto's bag, if it fails we can always get them to start eating the fruit."

Welton was able to use the shadow of the trees to approach the trolls, moving around, and pick some other fruit from the tree and successfully move behind Otto and place them in his bag.

"Oi," Jack complained. "You says you had nine! But by the looks-see of it, I sees you got ten!"

Truthfully, it was thirteen - but, for Jack, everything above ten was just "ten."

Otto looked into his bag, "Hey now! I didn't do that! I hads nine of them!"

"Well, since you have more, then I think I should get the extra since I found the tree!" Kurt muttered.

"But I am the one who spots he has ten!" Jack complained. "I should gets them! I saws them!"

Otto shook his head, "I thinks you are trying to be tricky, Jack! Did you put these in my bag to make me look like a liar?"

"Why woulds I puts them in your bags if I wants them?" Jack countered.

Another hour of debating had passed...

Otto shouted, "'ey! Listen! TThe moon is really gone now! Stars are fadin'! We need to be gettin' back to the cave!"

The Company knew they were out of time; if the trolls left, they would avoid the sun. A direct fight with them would also be dangerous. “I have an idea,” Maethordan whispered. He pulled the Company close and shared his idea.

Each of them had successfully approached the trolls, but rather than attack, they grabbed the bags with the fruit and began to run through the shallow lake. The trolls - in their fury - chased the Company around the lake - between trying to catch the Company, picking up the fruit in the water, disputing among one another about whose bag that one came out of - the sun rose above the trees - and the lake acquires three new statues.

Gahlyda, impressed with the Company's method - and boldness - escorted the Company back to Rivendell.

The Company is brought to Lord Elrond's home again where you meet in the Eastern plaza again.

The Company waited for several hours before Lord Elrond returned, with Arthanar following close behind. Lord Elrond's expression was more serious than he'd previously been. "Gahlyda tells me you have successfully dealt with the trolls," he said, his voice and expression softening. "You must be exhausted having stayed up all night to deal with them. I appreciate your time and efforts. Gahlyda was quite impressed."

Lord Elrond laid down the mithril on the table. "The curse is removed," he explained, his tone darker again. "There was no way for me to remove it," he began. "The Witch King's power was great. However," he then looked to Arthanar. "I found if I could expend it into something, I could remove it. Arthanar volunteered. I refused. He insisted."

Lord Elrond looked grim. "He now bares a shadow scar for the Company. A shadow marks his spirit deep and true. But the mithril is cured of it's shadow."

Lodin looked to Arthanar. "What next for you? We would not begrudge you your recovery here in Rivendell. I would have sought another means, but what is done cannot be revoked, so instead I offer my gratitude." Lodin bowed to Arthanar.

Arthanar smiled. "You need not bow to me, Lodin, son of Brodin. The courage you, Maethordan and Welton have displayed to stand against the rising shadow, has shown me," his eyes turned to Lord Elrond, then back to you, "that something indeed stirs. A growing shadow looms in the distance, and the resilience of humans has shown me a courage like no other. Baring this shadow, so that my," he paused on the word, "friend, can have his weapon restored, is but a small burden for me to carry."

Arthanar smiled. "You need not bow to me, Lodin, son of Brodin. The courage you, Maethordan and Welton have displayed to stand against the rising shadow, has shown me," his eyes turned to Lord Elrond, then back to Lodin, "that something indeed stirs. A growing shadow looms in the distance, and the resilience of humans has shown me a courage like no other. Baring this shadow, so that my," he paused on the word, "friend, can have his weapon restored, is but a small burden for me to carry."

Lodin let the words sit for a moment, before he said, "I think we should find the cave those trolls were living in, would you like to join us Arthanar?"

Arthanar nodded. "Indeed. My Council with Lord Elrond was to discuss the Mithril."

With Gahlyda's aid, having been tracking the trolls for quite some time, the Company finds the troll's hoard, which is primarily coins and supply, nothing in the way of armor and weapons.

Gahlyda descended from the tree she'd positioned herself in, to watch for other trolls.

"The hoard is yours," she said, looking at the coin, food, and other simple items gathered. "We've no use for such things. As for the trolls, they came south. With the roads more frequently traveled, they saw an opportunity to waylay travelers. We have avoided engaging them because we had not wanted them to become aware of our presence. If they were working for some darker purpose, it could have brought much trouble upon Rivendell."

The Company spent several days in Rivendell. Lord Elrond appointed Arthanar and Gahlyda to escort the Company around Rivendell, showing off some of the beauty that remained captured here. It was easy to see, how, here in the beauty of Rivendell, how easily it might be to believe and be blind to a growing shadow beyond Rivendell's magically guarded barriers.

During the last dinner at Rivendell, the Company sat in Lord Elrond's Great Hall. Here, formal meals were taken and high feast days celebrated. It was a tall room, three times longer than its width. Just above, there is a balcony, where Elven mistrels weaved their songs, through the gentle touch of their fingers across the threads of harps. Lord Elrond sat at the great chair at the end, with the members of the Company to his immediate left and right, and other Elves of Rivendell, sat next to them, filling the rest of the table's occupant space. In the middle, where once sat Elrond's wife, Celebrían, before she sailed to the Undying Lands; the seat now reserved for his daughter, Arwen. Lord Elrond's sons, sat on the far end - Elladan and Elrohir.

Above the table was a tapestry of white, with a ship sailing on the waves, and when the breeze strikes the tapestry, it seems the waves moved.

During dinner, another elf entered the room, introducing himself as Erestor, whom Lord Elrond explained, was Lord Elrond's closest friend and wisest council. Erestor explained that he had two vials of Miruvor, as requested by Lord Elrond. Lord Elrond slid one to Lodin and one to Maethordan. "Drink these cool, and the Miruvor will heal your wounds. Drink it warm, gently warmed by a fire, and it shall remove aches and exhaustion from your body."

Lord Elrond gestured for Erestor to sit and join everyone for dinner.

He then turned to the Company, "Tomorrow, I understand you depart from Rivendell. I presume your journey will take you to the Blue Mountains. Arthanar has asked to go with all of you, and continue this journey. I have permitted it. Do you have any questions for me?"

"No, Lord of Rivendell, I have the answer I sought, though at a cost I did not expect." Lodin said as he looked at Arthanar. "Arthanar is most welcome, and we shall be as good of companions as we are able."

Lord Elrond's gaze followed Lodin's to Arthanar's, then slowly looked forward again. "He speaks highly of all of you and the things you've seen and stood against. I have my concerns over some of what he has shared. My eye will be open to the shadow that seems to be stretching across Middle-Earth once more."

Maethordan asked, "We have had only a little contact with the dwarves of the Blue Mountains. Is there any advice you could give us when dealing with them?"

Elrond smiled. "I have not had much dealings with the Dwarves of Blue Mountain, in recent years." His eyes scanned the table and settled on Gahlyda. "Perhaps you would care to share some advice?"

Gahlyda smiled, her earthly tone skin tan in the candlelight. "The Dwarves are a proud race. Their craft is important to them. Should you ever want to earn the favor of a dwarf, compliment their workmanship," she smiled. "But Dwarves are not fools. Like us," she gestured to herself, "they have long lives and learned to spot deception, so do not be coy with them. Historically, in 2770, Erebor was sacked by the Dragon Smaug, as I am sure you have heard. Many of the Dwarves of Durin's Folk were rendered homeless and wandered through western Middle-Earth, trying to make as best a living as they could. After some years of wandering they settled down in Dunland. Among these Dwarves were Thrór, formerly the King under the Mountain, his son Thráin II, and his grandson Thorin II. Years later, after King Thorin went on the Quest of Erebor and was killed in the Battle of Five Armies, the Kingdom under the Mountain was re-established by the new king Dáin II Ironfoot. Many of the people of Durin's folk went to him and it became a great and prosperous kingdom once again."

The Journey from Rivendell to Blue Mountain would be long and dangerous.

Departing from Rivendell, the much of the food seemingly had been depleted, from the berries to the animals, gathering food was scarce. More trouble would follow, just before departing the Trollshaws, encountering more trolls, and needing to find a longer way around the road, before arriving in the – what could be called 'comfort' of the Forsaken Inn, where they were greeted by Dogan, of the Dunlendings.

But even here, trouble would find them. Lodin took note of a man of Laketown or Dale, based on how he was dressed and order a drink to sit with him. The man had introduced himself and explained, "My name is Arinor, son of Balis. My father died when Smaug came to Laketown, sacrificed himself by pushing my mother into the lake. I was but a young child at the time. I joined the Guard and eventually became a Captain myself, to honor my father. I remember your father as Captain, and well in the Dale."

He slid his sword off the table and sheathed it. "This is all I have of my father now. Even his memory fades from me, as I was so young."

He looked past you to see Maethordan and Arthanar and Welton.

He tilted his head, "What brings you here?"

This had not been the first time Lodin heard rumors of a dragon of this name. He tried to push that to the back of his mind. "We are returning to Bree after an errand near the Misty Mountains. We next have some business with the dwarves. Have you heard about what has happened recently in these lands concerning bandits, orcs, and otherworldly menaces?"

Arinor explained he'd been traveling with two dwarves and had become separated; and it did not take much to piece that it'd been the two dwarves the Company had seen here just two weeks ago. Still, peace did not come as another man burst into the Forsaken Inn, looking as if he'd been torn apart by wolves, bleeding profusely. He spoke of “wolves made of shadow and night.”

When the Company had gone to investigate, both Maethordan and Arthanar had succumbed to dark sorcery, which was revealed to be by the Cargûl who had been on a ledge, mounted on a dark horse of darkness and shadow, similar to the wolves. Once free of the sorcery, Maethordan and Arthanar could still feel the heavy burden of Shadow upon them.

Still more ill fortune, as they pressed on - as the Company drew closer to Weathertop, they met with Halligan, one of the Rangers of the North, who was badly wounded, explaining that ruffians returned to Gwathpind to recover some of the resources hidden in the room and had ambushed him. Arthanar healed him, but explained that he can not move, as his leg was broken, delaying the company for a day, exhausting some of their resources. Halligan explained that there were orcs among them and they were moving north. This had been three nights ago.

They had escorted Halligan back to Weathertop and remained there for a night, before pushing onward to Bree, where they sought a place to purchase food for long journey ahead. They found a store by the name of "Eats & Potatoes" run by two cute, Bree Hobbits from Staddle named Theobold and Ananya Hayward.

Theobold, a hobbit in his sixties, and round in the waist (he clearly ate his own food - to ensure quality, he would argue!) approached, thumbs in his belt and smiled, "What can I do you for?"

"What kind of travel food do you have?" Lodin asked.

"What kind of travel food do we have?" Theobold blurted out.

"Did he just ask what kind of travel food we have?" Ananya's voice rang out from somewhere in the back. A female hobbit, slightly younger than her husband, Theobold, pushed on the doors, wiping her hands on her apron. "What kind of question is that?"

Theobold looked to his wife, then Lodin, nodding.

"All of this," she gestured to several hand picked farming foods, from apples, oranges, peaches, and carrots. "All of this delicious food! A quick walk from one side of Bree to the other, this will do you!"

Theobold placed his hand on his wife's shoulder. "He looks like a traveling kind. As in beyond the gates of Bree. Look at his clothes and his cuts on his arms."

"Oh," Ananya's voice lingered on the word. "Beg my pardon! Not used to folk who travel well beyond the gates of Bree. We do have some rations here. Not as tasty as the fresh food from our farms, but they're hand made, none the less!"

After explaining their plan to go to Blue Mountain, the fine hobbits offered a deal to the Company, who purchased a large sum of food.

The journey from Bree to the Blue Mountains continued with more ill fortune... with signs of large numbers of orcs moving across the lands... the Company, in desperate need of light and hope, made a stop at Crickhollow to visit with Moro and Daisy Bunce, who immediately invited Isengar and Primula Greenburrows, whom the Company had rescued; along with the parents of the children, Tolman and Mirabella. The night had been wonderfully spent among hobbits and elleviated the linger troubles that hung over them.

The next leg of the journey took them to Michel Delving, where the Hobbits welcomed the tall ones; but they were not as friendly as those in Crickhollow, for they knew very little of these Tall Ones...

They next leg of the adventure, allowed them to arrive at the White Towers; Elostirion was the tallest and westernmost of the three White Towers that stood on the Tower Hills, built by Gil-galad for Elendil. It stood alone upon a green mound.

Elostirion and two other towers were built by Gil-galad, the High King of the Ñoldor. The towers were built in honor of Elendil, who came to Middle-earth with sorrow and great loss following the Downfall of Númenor. After that Elendil came often to the towers and soon placed one of the Palantíri of Arnor within to view Avallónë on Tol Eressëa. The tower stood for many years after the death of Gil-galad and Elendil, and eventually came under the care of Círdan and the Elves of Lindon.

Here among the company of the Fair Folk, fellow Elves, whom welcome Arthanar and his Companions, the Company can take a long rest in an attempt to shake off fatigue.

May 15, 2966...

The Company, weary from their long travels, arrived at one of the entrances to Blue Mountain and were greeted by a flame-color bearded dwarf, “Flamecleaver,” the dwarf announced proudly. “What business have you here at Blue Mountain? Are you traders?”