The Family Line Part 21 – The Dunlandings

Part 21 – The Dunlandings

The evening grew dark in the Gap of Rohan. A chill breeze was in the frosty air. Wind had blown the clouds in all directions. The loud sound of drums came from the Vale of Isengard. Through the evening the drums grew louder and louder. Orcs and uruks could be heard as well. Loud boisterous sounds of aggression came from Isengard. War sounded not too far away.

“What of Grimbold and his men?” Theomin thought aloud to himself. He turned to look in the direction of the sounds as loud bangs and men screaming erupted from east of Theomin. Horses could be heard too. Theomin has spent all of his life in the company of horses. The sounds that came from the horses were nothing short of screams and cries for help.

It was not long after the sounds of the horses that a large mass of torches were coming from the west. For a moment, Theomin sat atop his horse, just staring at the torches. He had a sudden urge to move out of the way and dismount from Bragga. Quickly, he rode to a nearby boulder that was sitting just, overlooking the path of the torch light. Who were carrying the torches; were they friend of foe?

They approached and soon Theomin caught a glimpse of many upon many Dunlandings heading east. Men with bows, men with swords, men on horseback. Theomin knew, then, that war had started and the battle would be joined soon in Helm’s Deep. Could Saruman alone draw such a large force of Dunlandings? What could be happening in Isengard, or worse, are Grimbold and his men okay? He just hoped for the best for his two fast friends back in Helm’s Deep.

As soon as the last of the Dunlandings past, Theomin mounted his horse and continued west. The stars were unveiled soon as the clouds cleared and the hour was late. The ethereal light of the moon dimly lit the Gap of Rohan in a haunting blue glow. Soon, Theomin needed to find a place to rest as he was weary and even the moon’s light could not keep at bay the dark night which kept many things in shadow. Looking back, Theomin only saw red the flickering glow of red in the dense fog of war east of him. Through the night, Theomin wounded around hills and avoided paths as the Dunlandings seemed to have occupied them.

As he rounded another bend, he could see another encampment. Was this a Dunlanding encampment? He dismounted from Bragga and tied her up to a nearby tree. He then snuck up on the palisades that surrounded the camp. There was no outward sign of what the encampment was. He could guess it was Rohirrim but he has been mistaken before. He stayed close to the palisades as he followed them north. He then saw the telltale signs of the Rohirrim as told by their shields bearing the image of a horse. Just as quickly as he saw the shields, a man on a watch tower yelled down at him, “Do not move, do not yell.” His voice seemed raspy as if he had lost his voice. “What is your business here traveler?”

Theomin raised his hands. “My name is Theomin. I come from Rohan.”

The man on the tower just said, “Rohan, huh? You have no look of Rohirrim to me.”

Theomin kept his hands up, “I am from a farm in the Wold. I come here traveling north to Eriador.”

“Eriador?” The man sounded confused.

“It is north of here.”

“I know where Eriador is, traveler. Do not mock me. Why would you want to travel to those forsaken lands?”

Theomin wanted to explain but not in the position he was in. “May I fetch my horse and then tell you inside? I will feel safer there.”

The soldier stood for a moment, contemplating the request. “You may pass but try any sort of ill business here, there are plenty of soldiers here who would not hesitate to gut you.”

Theomin shook his head and mumbled to himself, “Pleasant.”

“What?”

“I am fetching my horse now.” Theomin ran to Bragga and brought her into the Rohirrim camp. He handed her to the horse master who seemed no more exited to take in yet another horse. He then walked back to the guard at his post.

“If you try anything here…” “I know, you will gut me.” Theomin interrupted.

“You learn quickly, my friend from the Wold. Now, I would love to hear your tale of why you happened upon this outpost, but I as you can see I am on guard duty and it has not been very safe here in the gap. You can find a meal and a bed roll and then we can talk.”

Theomin turned and walked away. Before long he found no bed rolls and no food. He settled on just placing his head on a log placed around a warm fire. Not one of the soldiers were even turning a head toward Theomin. They were all too busy in their work. Every so often they all heard a drum or a horn to the east of them. The soldiers would just look east and then go back to sharpening their swords or conversations or just stare into the fire and chew on food.

Bragga’s saddle bag had plenty of food left over from Helm’s Deep. Theomin opened up the bag, pulled apart a loaf of bread and closed it. Luckily the bread was not stale yet. Sitting too long in a bag would harden the loaf but it still seemed fluffy and moist. Theomin sat on the bedroll he chose as it was not occupied. He laid down and chewed on the loaf of bread for a little while until the watch guard approached him.

“Quite a night, is it not?” The watchman said. “Loud noises, dark skies, and man heading to Eriador. Those are the least of my worries.”

Theomin sat up. “Why is that?”

“Surely you came across that large army of Dunlandings heading east. To Rohan they are headed. I know that Helm’s Deep is next if the ford cannot be defended. My hope is that Helm’s Deep still stands for I know not the size of the White Hand Army but it sounds big.”

“Why are you here and not at the ford?”

“We are to keep watch on the Gap of Rohan. Grimbold and his men are tasked with defending the ford and the western boarder of Rohan. We are no strangers to battle though.”

Theomin was intrigued. “What sort of battle were you in?”

The watchman removed his helmet. His blond flowing hair fell, wet and greasy as if he had that helm on for much too long a time. He removed a glove and rubbed his tired eyes. “How about we have this conversation over some warm boar meat and an ale?” Before Theomin could protest to the ale, the watchman leaped up and headed toward a tent. THAT was where the food was. Before long he returned with two metal plates of boar meat and two mugs of ale. The watchman slammed it down next to Theomin. Some of the frosty fuzz fell onto the moist gap ground.

“You would like to hear about what happened not but a few weeks back? I will tell you.” He took a long chug of his ale. It seemed to only took a few moments to finish all that was in his mug. He let down the empty mug of ale and gave a satisfied breath as if he had missed his drink. “Take a sip. I guarantee it is as smooth as mane on your horse.”

Theomin acquiesced to the watchman’s request. He reluctantly took a sip of the ale. It had a bite to it but was not as terrible as the ale in the Elthengles. It did not burn going down either and there seemed to be a gentle proportion of bitter to sweet taste. Theomin surprisingly enjoyed his sip, but for that moment, a sip was all he wanted.

The watchman continued. “My name is Batered, son of Hermered of Grimslade. I knew Grimbold but we were never close. He came from a lineage of hard warriors and leaders. My family were simple merchants of Grimslade, always supplying the cause of Grimbold. My family did not take kindly to my decision to join the Rohan Army, but they did not remove me from their family like some families in Rohan have. They knew it was a noble cause.” He attempted to take another sip of ale but found his mug empty. “Ehh,” he said aloud. “Just my lot.” He left for only moments and returned with two mugs of ale. “This will do.” He emptied one right away and slammed it down.

“You do enjoy your ale.” Theomin took notice.

“I do” said Batered, the watchman. He was ready to continue his story. “Not but a week past Theodred, son of Theoden, led an offensive on Isengard. The battle seemed to go in Theodred’s favor until a massive force spilled on Theodred and his men. We lost many good soldiers but that was not the first battle we had here in the gap. This camp we are in, Forthbrond, was not the westernmost Rohirrim camp. We were stationed inside the hills to the west, what is now Wulf’s Cleft. The station had seen its share of raids every so often but nothing like we had seen that night. Before, the raids were nothing but unorganized attacks on our encampment. Nothing we could not handle. One evening, which seemed like any other evening, we were attacked in what seemed like just a normal attack. It was not until a larger contingent of a more organized army attacked us. They raided and pillaged our outpost. The Dunlandings just spilled into our outpost like nothing we had ever seen. It was a bitter battle. They first targeted our watch towers, then burned our palisades. Our tents were soon aflame. We fought as hard as we ever had. Desperate to cling on to our outpost. We did not last.” He looked down and grabbed his other mug of ale, quickly sipping it down, masking the terrible memory he had of the battle. He finished about half and continued. “Now, I know that we were used to being attacked by Dunlandings, but we, the few survivors left, could sworn we saw uruks and orcs with the attackers. It seems like a distant memory and it could have been just the haze of battle, but all five of us who survived could have sworn we saw them.”

“I believe,” Theomin started, “with certainty, you saw them.” Batered’s mouth dropped. By the looks of it, he knew it was true. “They are scattered about Rohan, burning and pillaging as they go.”

“There was something else. Something that terrified me and I know not what it was.”

Theomin leaned in, intrigued, “Tell me.”

“Something flew past us that night. It was some creature, black, like a dragon, but it was not dragon. I only saw it in the fire-light. Atop the creature was something.” Betered seemed to tremble with fear. “Something black as night, but I could not see what it was but I know it was not light playing tricks. I know I saw something that night. Dark and cold it was. It had no face and was dressed in tattered black cloth.”

Theomin remembered back when he saw such a creature. It gave him chills as Betered told him, just as it gave him chills the nights he saw them, or it. “I saw the same creature. Two unlucky times did I see it. I cannot tell you what it was but I felt fear, same as you.”

“I have shame. I have shame for the fear I felt that night. It terrified me beyond my ability to fight. I did not tell my fellow men. I could not bring myself to tell them.”

“Have no shame. Fear seems to follow such a creature. Both times I felt absolute terror. I feel for whomever the creature is searching for.”

Batered grinned, “As do I.” He looked down, as if he already felt Rohan was defeated. “How fares the Westfold?”

“Marton,” Theomin started but paused in grief, “Marton has been razed.”

“And what of Grimslade? Have you news of my town?”

“No news of Grimslade. I know not if it was razed or still stands. I know refugees have come from parts of Rohan. Some,” he paused in remembrance of the little girl and her family, “some have come to Helm’s Deep to seek refuge but faced many hardships.” After another sip of ale, Theomin continued, “I know when I left that Helm’s Deep still stood.”

“I would just like a home for me and my men to return to.”

Theomin placed a hand on Betered’s arm. “I know you will. The fortress of Helm’s Deep and the men that defend it are strong and true of heart. They will win, if the battle comes to them.”

He looked down and nodded. “That fares well for Rohan. My hope is that I, that we all here, have a home to come back to.” Betered drank the rest of his third mug of ale. “And what are you doing so far from the Wold?”

Theomin gave a slight chuckle. “It has been a few days since I thought of why I left the Wold I almost forgot. I am in search of my birth parents.”

“Birth parents? You are not of Rohan?” Betered asked suspiciously.

“I was raised in Rohan. In my opinion I am as much a child of Rohan as you. When I was just a child I was found in a tower. Over time I was taken to the Wold and raised with a family there. As I have searched, all signs point to Eriador being my birthplace, just east of a place called Fornost.”

“Fornost?” Betered questioned. “What is this Fornost?”

“From what I remember from lore, which does not speak much of the place, it was a fortress in a place called The North Downs. More than that, I know not.”

“Fornost, eh?” The man stood up. “It must have been a tough decision to leave your life and family behind. I know it was difficult for me to leave Grimslade. I had just assumed I would be a merchant like my family. Life, it seems, took a turn for me.”

“Indeed it has.” Theomin agreed, taking another sip of his ale. “I must be asleep. My ride will take me into Dunland tomorrow and I know not what will happen there.”

“My best advice, traveler: stay off the main roads. They are traveled often by the Dunlandings. I trust none of them. They are all enemies of Rohan, do not forget that.” He patted Theomin on the shoulder. “May luck go with you, traveler.”

Theomin watched as the watchman parted his company. He laid down, placing his head on a log. This was his first time in many nights laying on the hard ground. Not since Floodwend has he slept on the ground. Forthbrond was going to be the last of the Rohirrim encampments. Knowing there were no friendly places in Dunland, he felt as if it was going to be a way of life for him. He just knew that he had to hold on and wait patiently to find a friendly place to rest his head. He closed his eyes and tried to remove the thought of that terrible creature and think of what he was going to find near Fornost. Was it his family? Was it a ruined house? Or was it going to be a dead end? He will need patience, hold on, wait and see.