The Family Line Part 30 – Amongst the Ruins

Part 30 – Amongst the Ruins

Angry wet snarls followed “Get ‘em, rats!” as Theomin tried to escape from the half-orc men who relentlessly chased after him. He ran from place to place in a cemetary of ancient elven ruins layed there many thousands of years ago. Ancient metal gates, a decaying bridge, and many circular turret like structures all layed to waste in the ancient elven graveyard of structures.

The half-orcs who were chasing Theomin were either making their home there or just plundering it for whatever metal or weapons they could find. The ruins did not lend themselves self well to evading the enemy but the walls, large boulders, and ditches seemed a better place to evade them than the sparce, flat, almost bare land he was in.

Quickly, Theomin ducked bolts of crossbow wielding half-orcs; he evaded sword slashes and jabs. He had no skill with which to combat the half-orcs for they would give him no time to pause and use them. Just striking one with his staff was pointless as another would just run past and strike him. So he just ran. It was his instinct for they were a fierce lot who would seem to kill him and then rob him of his goods. But even sicker and crueler, their drooling mouths foretold the horror of them consuming him as well. That fear drove him to continue on but he was tiring as his strength was being spent; he finally could not bear running another step. He ducked into a crawl space in the ruins and just waited for the half-orcs to get at him. Like he dreaded, they did. All he could do was kick them out of the space one by one as they relentlessly came heavier and heavier, one more fierce than the next. Their drooling growls, sharpened claws, and glouring red eyes were all Theomin could see and hear as his legs started to tire while the the half-orcs started to tear through his boots.

Pillows of clouds were resting in the blue morning sky over the small village of Lhanuch. The morning was crisp and cool but the blowing wind from the north offered some warmth. Far away, the tower that seemed so beautiful as Theomin passed it by the night before seemd even more spectacular as it rose high above the distant hill while its two great golden statues stood watch on the north and south roads.

The people of the village were busy with their morning routines mending the thatched roofs and stone houses as others tended to hung meat over the fires. Others were down the hill fixing the fense that had been damaged the night before as was the western fence while keeping out the half-orcs forcing their way into Lhanuch.

Another passed Theomin holding a basket of bread whilest the workers of the village grabbed them. Theomin did not think it proper for him to grab any so he just let the woman pass him by. No sooner did he allow her to pass Suvulch walked her back and insisted he grab a piece. “Do not allow yourself to start the day without food in your belly, Devodiad. This bread is for all in the village, namely you who kept us safe for a night.”

Theomin reluctantly took a piece of bread and tried it. It was harder than those he had in Avardin and Helm’s Deep. Never-the-less, it was the taste after that was most intriguing. It was a slightly sweet herbal taste that Theomin was impressed with. He nodded to Suvulch, “This is a good piece of bread.”

“Thank you, Devodiad.” Sulvuch happily replied. “The herbs we grew in our garden since the last your kin came through here.”

“My kin?” Theomin was confused.

“Yes,” Suvulch said just as perplexed. “You were not with the others? They had a name for themselves, I remember not their name. Something like a company of greys. They came from the north on a mission of great importance, though they never said what it was. Their cloth was warn and tattered. It was dark and their look was grim.”

“You speak of the Dunadain Rangers from the North?”

“Yes, you speak correct. A few suns past two came bearing a cart of their fallen. Much like yourself, they helped us but that time it was those accursed Drug Luth. Two helped but both parted ways here.”

“Was one called Saeradan?” Theomin asked.

“One was Saeradan, Devodiad. If you are not with them, how do you know of this man?”

“I was told to seek him near a town called Bree.”

“And where are you from, Devodiad?”

For a moment, he had forgotten himself. He kept a ruse while in Avardin but not for this place. Reluctantly, he settled on telling part of the truth, “I come from a place called the Wold.”

Suvulch squinted. “The Wold,” he whispered to himself. “Where have I heard of such a place?”

To keep him from a sudden realization, Theomin tried his best to quell his suspicians, “It is slightly south of a place called Lothlorian.”

Suvulch’s eyes widened, “That place is a mystery I hear. And what is your name, man of the Wold and why are you clad in the cloth of my people?”

Again, he tried to keep the suspicion, “I am Fornost. This cloth was given for me to heal from orc arrows. The people of Avardin healed me and clothed me in it for it posesses special properties of healing.”

“That it does. I know that because it was hunted by my people and sold in Galtrev, though we dare not venture there anymore.”

“Why is that?”

“That path, Fornost, is cursed. A good number of those grey men ventured through there. Before, only death was there. Now even the dead are cursed. We dare not set foot in that place.” He looked at Theomin. “You know that all too well. There are moans and cries that bring even the stoutest men of courage to their knees. We know all too well your journey here and do not envy you.”

Fear gripped Theomin as he remembered the chills of that place. He wanted to bury the memory of that place behind him. He just wanted to think of the journey for the day. He took another bight of the bread and asked, “If I may have your opinion on the path north, I know I must break from the path of the King’s Way, but where must I go from there?”

“Just after the bridge the path continues up a hill northwestward. Just past the bridge there is a path east and west. Pass those and take the faded path to the after. Follow the path as it winds around until you reach a pond. A dark dirt road you will need to travel as it turns to a light dirt path. If you come upon a den of wolves, avoid it with all certainty. They are a vicious lot, especially after dark. At dusk they become something darker and more aggressive. That is all I will say about them. There is a river beyond you may cross. From there, I know not. Just be careful, Fornost of the Wold.”

Theomin nodded toward Suvulch. “Thank you. I hope to return to your village on my return journey.” With that, he headed down the hill toward the enterance. With every winding path, the people of Lhanoch thanked Theomin. He graciously gave a smile and a nod to each person of the village until he came to the man keeping his horse. He quickly mounted his horse followed the path down to the King’s Way.

He followed the path through the green valley and in no time came to a beautiful blue river whose origin was the snowpacks of the Misty Mountains just east of Lhanuch. The edge of the running river was lined with blocks of stone more white and spectacular than that of the bridge. The river’s beauty was unriveled by any rivers in Rohan as it wound its way through green grasslands and down small rocky falls. A grove of trees stood in a cluster not far from the river. A warn bridge of white light gray stone stood over the river. Though it was warn, had beauty all of its own. Not long after the bridge a well warn fortress appeared on the left up a steep hill. Much more warn than other ruins, it still had a certain ancient splendor as columns sprouted up around the great fortress surrounding one grand keep at the center.

That was where Theomin strayed from the path. He headed north as the path turned northeast. Through green hills he rode Bragga, around trees and through grasses greener than any he had seen. Beautiful long blades of grass stood tall, unhindered by the relentless wind blowing south through the hills. A few ruins stood here and there, made from the same white stone the bridge was made of.

A small pond sat at the base of a very small yet steep slope. Theomin allowed Bragga to take a few sips from the small pond before continuing north. By the time he reached the pond, it was midday. The white clouds that were large like balls of cotton just floated there, only gathering near the peaks of the mountains to the east. Though the valley had few trees, it had such a beauty to it, untouched by men and orcs for many centuries.

Soon, though, howling brought Theomin back to reality while it startled Bragga. Theomin held her down as spooked as she was. He looked around for signs of the howling. They seemed close. He pushed Bragga to continue north but soon saw the pack of wolves Suvulch spoke of. Theomin kicked Bragga to run as fast as she could. She jumped to full speed as she ran through small valleys between hills. Wolves lept off of the small hills but either missed him or were smacked down by Theomin with his staff. As they continued he saw the rocky den of wolves. He turned east, pushing Bragga as fast as she could through the grasses of the valley. Groups of wolves blocked some of the path but Theomin just maneuvered around them as they started chasing after him. He cared not for following any path.

At last the river was in sight but the wolves continued chasing after them. They were gaining on Theomin and Bragga but the more they ran, the closer they got to the river. The speed of the wolves was something unearthly, clawing and bighting at Bragga’s hooves. Finally, they reached the river. All Theomin could do was jump to the small island in the middle. Bragga lept over to the island. Theomin tried to jump her again to reach the other side. She could not clear the jump and instead plunged into the river. Theomin was thrown off the horse and barley landed on the other side. The wolves stopped at the bank of the river and howeled. Perhaps in disappointment or a warning to stay out of their territory. What ever the howel was for, Theomin was glad it was behind him.

Theomin just layed there for a few moments, immersed in the water up to his ears, glad he was far away from the terrible bight of the wolves. Bragga soon made it across the river and nudged Theomin’s arm. He just raised his arm and patted Bragga on the snout and gave a slight chuckle. “Thank you, girl,” he said to Bragga with all relief.

As he stood up, he felt different, as if the land suddenly changed. The grasses were not as green and the land was flatter than before. The trees were different, bearing redish blooms on them and fuller at the top. There were a few hills but filled with reddish rock that jutted out of the land but soon even the land became flat. In this land, there were even more ancient ruins scattered about. The design on them were not of Gondor or Numenor. He could not place what type of ruins they were as he passed by them.

It was not until midafternoon that Theomin reached a dry riverbed. Why it was dry he could not fathom nor did he want to figure it out. To the east was a tall hill and at the peak was a tower, still standing and intact. From there he wanted a good vantage point for where he was headed. He dismounted from Bragg and scaled the hill, finally reaching the peak where the tower stood. He saw not much but flat land and a strange arch over a path leading up to Misty Mountains.

The Misty Mountains themselves were something to marvel at. They stood tall and most amazingly. He had never seen them in their full beauty before. Just small glimpses here and there as he headed toward the Gap of Rohan. Here, they were tall and proud. Their snow covered peaks looked treacherous and untamed, not wanting to be crossed by anyone. Of course, Theomin did not have the desire to pass through them. He just wanted to get back on his horse and continue north before dark.

He mounted Bragga and continued across the dry riverbed and through the flat land, attempting to follow a faded path. The path only continued on for an hour or so until it ended just west a burnt hill. He Continued north as far as he could go, trying to remain northward bound.

He decided on one of the ruins to stay in for the night. He did not know of the land and its dangers but he felt the ruins were safe and unoccupied rather than sleeping on the ground, exposed to what ever was lurking about. The hour was growing late when it seemed out of nowhere a small ruined town sprung out of nowhere to the west. Theomin turned toward the white stone ruins.

All was quiet in the waning sun as he came upon the beauty of the ruins. As he dismounted from Bragga he placed a hand on the finished white stone of the tower. It was smooth to the touch, polished to perfection. No man could cut such stone. It had to be elves, perhaps with the help of the dwarves. He wondered if he was in the land of Eregion where the ancient elven cities were before they were layed to waste. Theomin imagined what the city must have looked like as he dragged his hand around the perfectly carved stone when, with a sudden terror, a horde of those half-orcs saw him.

Theomin had no time to draw his staff as the horrible creatures roared at him and in less than a beat chased after him. He heard the whistle of bolts wizzing past him and the strike of the metal heads as they struck the elvin walls, leaving dents in the old elven walls. He ran around the structures, trying to avoid the strikes of swords and the piercing of the bolts fired from crossbows.

He finally crawled into a small space. With all his might he kicked at the half-orcs as they snarled and growled at him, tearing at his boots. One finally came up. He did not try to claw at him but he was wielding a crossbow. The filthy half-orc took aim. Theomin felt his journey had finally come to an end when he heard clanging and a series of thumps and grunts on the grounds of the ruins. The sounds lasted not for a long time. Finally, and with a sudden ending, the clanging sounds stopped just as quickly as they started.

Almost out of breath, sweating, and crying with relief, Theomin crawled out of the tight space he was held up in. Before him stood a group of five clad in steel blue armour bearing bows and swords that shined brightly in the waning sun. The leader possessed armour of a golden tree, a mask that closely resembled a budding flower, and a brilliant shield of stars. All possessed golden blonde hair held back behind their pointy ears. The ones before him were elves. Before excitement set in, Theomin paused as he was not sure who they were or if they were friend or foe.