Dear Readers,
Before we get to the next leg of our journey, I just wanted to express my gratitude for all the readers of my series. It has been a privilege to bring this series to you through the beautiful world of Turbine’s rendition of J.R.R. Tolkein’s Middle Earth. It would not have been possible, of course, without the powers that be at LOTRO Players, whom have allowed me to share this journey with you and who have said nothing but kind words about it. I am very grateful for them and you, the reader, for joining me on Theomin’s journey of discovery. I hope you continue to enjoy my series and am looking forward to continuing the series and the exciting future of LOTRO Players!
Gratefully yours,
Tim
Part 10 – What Could have Been
The day was heading on toward late afternoon. The sun started to dip into the western sky as the rain began subsiding. Approaching the west, toward the Entwash river, Theomin noticed a crudely constructed outpost. Poorly built palisades surrounded rocky outcroppings at the very summit of a hill. Theomin gathered they were enemies camped out on the hill above Eaworth, the destination Theomin was hoping to head to next. Horn’s home looked as though it would be under siege at any time. Theomin hesitated and ultimately felt that going there would be suicide. He instead decided to head south toward Garsfeld. The hour was late and he had no better option.
Down the hill Theomin went away from the encampment of the enemy, toward Garsfeld. Crossing a small stream, he came 
upon the two watch towers of the western gate of Garsfeld. The town was fixated inside a natural wall of rock. Only a few palisades surrounded the town because of its natural defense. The defense was the croft rocks, very strong, and very durable. If any enemy were to breach the town, it would not be through the rock.
Theomin approached the western gate of the town. The guards stopped him from entering their town. “Ho traveler, what business have you in the town of Garsfeld?”
“I am in need of a place to rest and possibly resupply.” Theomin said, visibly tired from his dealings with the orcs.
“Where are you hailing from, traveler?” the other guard interrogated.
“I hail from the Wold.”
“Quite a distance away from home, are you not?”
“I am.” Theomin quickly agreed. “I was beset by orcs just over the hill north of here. I can do without resupplying but I need rest. I will take my leave early in the morning.”
The guard stared queerly up at Theomin. “And what is your destination, if I may ask?”
Theomin was not sure what to answer. “I am not certain. Either west of here or back to the Wold, but I need a place to stay and think on it over the night.”
The guards looked at each other and then at Theomin. “You may pass, but take your leave early in the morning. Our food is running low and our fields are burned by orcs. We have no resources to feed an extra mouth.”
Theomin proceeded into Garsfeld, “Thank you, kind sir.”
Garsfeld’s people looked more frantic than the Elthengels. There were some signs of a skirmish but not too much. It had not been overtaken like Langhold so many days ago and not currently under siege like the Elthengles. Unlike many other towns in Rohan, this one did not have tables with plentiful food sitting on them and no merriment with soldiers and townspeople dancing around with mugs of ale in their hands. That was exactly what the guard said, they were rationing food. Theomin feared it might be a little tough for him to find a good meal in Garsfeld.
The only place he felt he might be able to satisfy his aching belly was in the town’s mead hall. It was at the end of the road as it curved around rock outcroppings. It sat on the eastern edge of Garsfeld, just past some stables where he tied up Bragga. Theomin entered and immediately saw the thane sitting at his table, speaking with another. Theomin quickly went to a table, sat, and chewed on a small loaf of bread that was sitting on the table. He looked around at the people in the mead hall and none of them paid any attention to him as they too were eating 
in their own little world.
Soon and without notice of the others, Theomin left the mead hall with his belly partially filled. The next day he had to find another way to find rations as he was finished with all of them in his pack. He wandered around Garsfeld looking for accommodations but not one person would speak with him. Those towns people who were outside soon ran inside as Theomin passed, perhaps fearing the stranger in their town.
Much like he did in Floodwend, he snuck behind the mead hall to stay for the night. His moral was low, though he got what he hoped for. He was feeling that this quest of his was turning him into an instrument of death. Each day he killed a new foe and that was not what he grew up to do. He grew up to respect the land and everyone on it, be it men, animals, and even orcs. He did not feel right killing everything he deemed fit to kill. That was not in his nature.
He pushed that thought aside as he had more pressing matters to ponder on. He removed the map from his pouch. He looked on it and the markings around the map. He continued to look just east of Fornost. What was there? Why was that number one? He continued to ponder the question and questioned whether he should pursue the place east of Fornost or just head back home and be glad with the answer he got.
“Hoping for answers?” a man startled Theomin. He turned around to see an older gentleman standing behind him.
Theomin recognized him as the thane who was sitting at the table at the end of the mead hall. He stood up and tried his best to bow. “I am sorry. I will take my leave of you.”
“What is your hurry?” He approached Theomin and patted him on the shoulder. “Have a seat with me.”
Perplexed, Theomin did as he was told. He would not disrespect the old man’s wishes, especially a thane’s. “Thank you, sire.”
The old man grinned, “Call me Gìsil.” The thane looked out at the land. “What is troubling you that you feel you must sit out here by yourself?”
“I…” he could not continue, “…I cannot trouble a thane with my problems.”
Gìsil only grinned and looked out. He sat there for a few moments taking in the sight just south of Garsfeld. The ancient Gondorian spire of Snowbourn stood in the distance, a beacon of grace and fortitude in a time when there is great despair in Rohan. Gìsil then spoke with a tone of sympathy in his voice, “I have looked out on these fields many times and wondered what life would be like had I not taken advice from my father.” Theomin looked at the thane. “I knew a girl, somewhere east of here. Her name was Kynad of Woodhurst. She was a beauty.” Passion was visible in his face and expression. “Her hair was almost as golden as the sun. Her eyes emerald blue and full of care. She was passionate and compassionate for the people and their lives. She taught me to be a patient and humble man.”
“What happened to her?”
Shrugging it off, Gìsil continued, “I did not follow my heart.” He continued, “She married and moved out of Woodhurst. I married and now I have Gìsling but I never forgot about Kynad and the life I could have had with her.”
With a little audacity, Theomin asked, “Do you regret not pursuing her?”
All Gìsil did was give a slight chuckle at the question. “I regret nothing. I love my son.” He looked back out at the croft. “But there are some things you just wonder, what could have been?” His gaze turned back at Theomin. “If you are choosing what I believe you are choosing, do not spend any time in regret.” He stood up and Theomin did as well. “Follow your dream or you will always ponder, ‘what could have been?”
Theomin stood in deep thought. “Thank you Gìsil. That means much to me.” He took Gìsil’s hand.
“Where are you staying?” Gìsil asked.
“I was going to stay right here.” He pointed down at the ground.
“Here?” Gìsil questioned in disbelief.
“I have had to sleep on the ground before.”
Gìsil patted Theomin on the back, “Nonsense. You will stay at my son’s house. He can stay with me in the mead hall. It just gives me a chance to have him stay with me. A luxury these days, believe me.”
Visibly shocked and grateful, Theomin just said, “Thank you!”
“I was like you once.” The thane said. “I know what you are going through and it is always nice to have a soft bed and a warm fire on rough nights.”
Gìsil took Theomin up a slight hill past some horse stables to a house not far from the mead hall. It looked almost modest but with dual flags hanging, flanking the doorway. They entered and he brought Theomin up to his son’s bed. “You may sleep here for the night. It looks to be a long road tomorrow and you need all the sleep you can get.”
Theomin sat in the bed. “I still do not know what to say.”
“Nothing is necessary. Your gratitude is all that is needed.” He started to take his leave. “I will not be here in the morning so I will say this to you right now. May all luck stay with you through wherever your path takes you.”
With that, Gìsil left the house. Theomin, still with utter surprise, sat in the bed. His thoughts about thanes was only limited to one person, Aldor Harding in the Wold. Gìsil, on the other hand, was a kind and true man and one he would be proud to call his thane.
Theomin lied down, thinking of the map and finally making the decision to go on this quest. Gìsil told him to chase his dreams, and he should not live in regret. He also thought that he would do anything in his power to spare life whenever possible. He was never a murderer and planned on not becoming one unless at the absolute necessity to preserve his own. He knew his mother would be proud of him.
He remembered her on nights like this one. Silent, calm, peaceful were those nights in his memory. It had been two days since he left his home and he already felt like his journey had been long. His nostalgic feelings were even greater perhaps because the night before he had been sleeping on the hard ground of Floodwend. A bed and a nice warm fire gave him a feeling of home again. He remembered, as a child, his mother singing a lullaby to him while running her fingers through his long boyish hair. She smiled with absolute love that only a mother would hold for her son. Her beautiful voice was a soft as silk as she whispered her lullaby to him:
Goodnight my son good night,
The moon is shining brightly,
Goodnight my son good night,
Lay in your bed tonight.
All the stars so way up high,
Look down on us up in the sky,
They flicker and glow,
A beautiful show,
Give us a show of light.
Good night my son good night,
The moon is shining brightly,
Goodnight my son good night,
I love you son, good night.
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