The Family Line Part 29 – A Chance Meeting

Part 29 – A Chance Meeting

Midday was turning to evening in the windswept valley past the Bonevales. The hauntingly dark mist that hung close to the ground started drifting away to a haze as the sky was becoming a light crimson color. Few cairns poked out of the surrounding hills of the valley but soon they too disappeared, left behind in a terrifying memory and many unanswered questions.

Sleep that night was going to be difficult he feared. The haunting sounds of the Bonevales shook Theomin every time he thought of them. The pain he felt from the cries and the moans were too much to bear. Much more difficult than even the sights of the Gravenwood. “There was an ill air of evil in that place,” he said to himself, remembering Arvil and his warning and hoping that whatever he witnessed in that place did not follow him. Only the sheer haunting memory of that place was enough to hold.

The path north of the Bonevales was becoming easier to follow. No longer was it a dirt path like that south of the Bonevales but a slightly warn path of carved square stones that continued on north for quite a distance. Trees started popping up here and there and the tower, which was once just a distant silhouette amongst the grayed out sky, was starting to display its full beauty.

The white rock of the tower rose up to a pinical in the shape of a square cone. From a distance he could even see the design of the doors were etched in beauty with intriquate golden designs of trees amongst a dark background. Golden statues flanked the tower like stedfast stoic guardians of old protecting their station. Much was taken from them, though, by the ravages of time and the decay of nature’s continuous struggle to gain hold on its land. Large pieces of stone were gone, taken by the slow decay of time, beauty stolen from it and never give back. A sad reminder of the land of Numenor, lost to the relentless ravages of time.

To the north a ruined fortress stood older than the tower, or any tower Theomin had yet seen. The fortress was not his concern, though. To the west, dead bulls started showing up. One by one they continued to the left of the path and the right. They looked like strong bulls cut down suddenly by someone or something. A strong stench was emenating from the corpses as they had to be sitting there for quite a while before Theomin reached them. Soon after the bulls, off the path a hill rose up filled with houses much like those of the Dunlandings. It was gated, though, surrounded by palicades and at the bottom a mass of people stood, banging at the enterance of the palacades, loudly screaming to all inside.

“Open up, filth!” one yelled to those inside. “I’ll skin all of ya!”yelled another as they continued to pound on the palicade gate.

Theomin dismounted from his horse. He did not want to risk any harm to Bragga. Besides, there was no room, nor advantages for him to maneuver in such a place. Slowly and causausly he approached one of the aggresors. He listened as the aggressor laughed with such a sinister laugh he felt he was amongst those evil orcs in Rohan. With a quick move, he struck it on the head. It fell to the ground with a soft thud amongst the wind-blown grasses.

As Theomin approached the one on the ground, he was horrifically astonished by the sight. Armoured he was but with a deformed, sick face. He looked like a man but with some features much like an orc. The dead eyes of the man were red and vicious. His skin cut and streached and his teeth were sharp. It was as if it was half orc and half man. The grotesque look it possessed chilled Theomin but not as much as the Bonevales.

Theomin scaled the small hill of the village where the mass of the foul creatures were pounding on the palicade walls. Since they were conveniently distracted, Theomin calmly removed his staff and raised it to the heavens like he had done many times before. Like always, a flash of lightning struck before his eyes, felling many of the enemies before him. Those who were spared, Theomin struck with his staff, killing off the last of the enemy until all that was left was a ground covered in the carcases of those filthy orc men.

A few moments passed before the door creeked open. It was another few moments before it slid open even more and two men, armed with shields and a mace and one with an axe came to the flanks of the opening. Soon after, a man, not unlike the Brenin of Avardin, came between them. He looked Theomin up and down, almost waiting for something to happen, which never did. The two men at his sides looked eager to engage in any type of combat. They looked at Theomin and then behind him and around, their nerves were of steel and the grip on their weapons just as strong.

Much like the two men beside him, the man look at Theomin just as intently. Finally, he spoke, “So, you were the one to dispatch those half-orcs.” Another uncomfortable long pause followed. “And who are you, to kill so many of our foe at one time?”

For a brief moment, Theomin wanted to concele his true identity. His feeling was quickly replaced with a feeling of need. Need to tell the truth and not to lie. “I am Theomin.” They looked at him with fire growing in their eyes, “I am in no way wanting to harm you, I only wish to continue north…” he was then hit over the head as he passed out.

A warm fire nearby heated him and gave light to the familiar walls. Glimpses of poles, a roof and familiar yet different drawings lined walls around Theomin. He did not see much in the glimpses as he tried to come back to consciousness. He could not keep his eyes open for long. They continued to close in the dark flickering light of the room.

Not long after, a man approached Theomin. He large man came upon him and looked on him with inquisitive eyes. Theomin could barely keep his eyes on the man. His eyes were phasing in and out of consciousness until one other splashed water on him. The shock of the cold water woke him immediately.

The large man looked on Theomin, “Who are you? Why are you wearing the garb of my people?”

It took a few moments to gather all of what the man was asking. He had just saved them from a mob of those half orc, half man things and now he was prisoner. He quickly regained his wits and spoke up, “I am Theomin. I wish only to continue north. I was given these garbs by those of Avardin.”

A quiet hush came upon the room. The few there, two men and a woman, conversed amongst themselves, quietly doing so for Theomin not to hear. Finally, one spoke up, “The path through the Bonevales is forbidden. None may enter or leave. Those who enter their die. And those who are dead are for ever cursed.

Theomin remembered all he went through in the Bonevales, “I do not deny the tough travels I had through the Bonevales.” He looked down hauntingly remembering all he went through, “There was an ill air of evil in that place.” He then looked upon those who held him captive, “I came through. I broke through the terror of the Bonevales. But you are holding me captive. I was not held captive nor was I bound by anything save my own fear in the Bonevales. All I seek is to be freed and allowed to continue on north.”

“North,” another said entering the place he was being held. He was the same who Theomin saw coming out of the gates down at the enterance. The one who looked much like the Brenin of Avardin. “I sent my daughter north and she did not return. I sent her alongside some stranger but I have not seen her since. Am I to believe you have the same intent that stranger had for my daughter?”

Theomin shook his head, “I have no intent for you or your village. I seek only the knowledge of who my true parents are. Nothing further.”

“I wish I could belive you, stranger. When I last saw my daughter I gifted to her a glittering token from the pond below Lhanuch. Am I to believe you have no clue to her whereabouts?”

For the briefest of moments Theomin was wanting to say no. His description, though, reminded Theomin of the girl in the Elthengles so many nights before. “I remember a girl in Rohan many nights ago. She bore a serious look of concern yet a fire of purpose on her face. She had blue stripes running along her face but what caught me was the gold pendant she bore on her chest. Is that the glittering token of which you speak?”

The man was taken back. Since he let her go he heard no news of her where abouts until Theomin. “Yes, that is her,” his voice almost cracked. “How fares her travels, stranger?”

“I know not. She was traveling with three others. Some person I could not place, an elf she was with and a man of Rohan. She looked quite well yet determined.”

“That sounds like my little Nona. That look you describe has always been the look of which she bore.” The man looked down with a smile of longing, “My sweet Nona.” He looked back at Theomin, almost lost in his own thoughts, “Please, do not let us keep you. If you need sleep, take any place around here. I know not how those of Avardin treated you but this is a place of welcome. You may depart on the morrow, Davodiad.”

Theomin almost felt like he struck luck on the chance meeting of Nona and her fellowship. “Thank you,” was all he said to the man before he left but was haulted by the same man.

“I must give you a word of warning, Davodiad. When morning comes and you leave, do not follow along the path. A great many men guard the king’s way. Keep off that path north of the ancient fortress.” The man then left with two others to his left and right as if they were his guards.

Much like the village of Avardin Theomin felt the safety of the walls of Lhanuch, though he could not wait to continue on north on his quest.