The Family Line Part 8 – The Elthengels

Part 8 – The Elthengels

Dawn came too fast. Theomin must have been sleeping on a rock because his back was in pain. He sat up in the bed of weeds. His muscles ached and his mouth was dry. He stood up and made his way to the front of the tavern. It must have been pretty early as nobody was in the market place. He took the short hike to the stables to fetch his horse. The only sounds were the chickens clucking and the sounds of the goats with the occasional sloshing of animals in the water below. He dug into his saddle bag, taking out his water bladder and took a quick swig of water. He then ate some provisions and thought for a few moments about what his day would hold. Theomin then refilled his water bladder in the Floodwend water under the bridge.

He hiked back up to his horse and untied Bragga and finally exited the town that had given him so much grief. He was happy to leave it behind as he had never known a town so uninviting before.

He then continued down the path away from Floodwend, following the path toward the Elthengels. Through the morning his trail rounded large boulders and went around small hills. The scenery started changing. It was becoming more lush and green and trees were much more abundant than he was used to. He made it, finally, to the Norcrofts. The grasses were greener than he had ever seen before. He had seen the Norcrofts in the distance but the vibrant green of the grasses up close was a sight to be seen. If only his family could see it.

As the early morning progressed a sudden sight caught Theomin off guard. He glanced to the east and saw two titanic figures in the far distance. The towering figures stood facing north, tall and proud with one hand each held up, palms facing out as if halting all evil from passing. It was the Argonath, the massive statutes that marked the northern border of the kingdom of Gondor. He had read of such statues but to see them as pinnacles of greatness towering above with steadfast resilience was a sight to be seen.

Theomin had to fight the urge to see the statues up close and continue on to the Elthengels. In his mind, he told himself he would return and take in the splendor of the great statues up close and honor those great kings of old, those great kings of Gondor.

Not too far up a small hill Theomin noticed barricades that were erected and men guarding them. He heard the men yelling and waving their arms. He could have sworn he heard one of them yell, “LOOK!” and pointed. Theomin looked behind him. A whole line of orcs were closing in on him. With a quick kick to his horse, he pushed it to bolt as fast as it could toward the barricades. He passed them with haste and looked back as the line of orcs fell fast onto the barricades. Theomin watched with helplessness. He had to do something. He rounded the orcs to the rear and threw a fireball at one of the unsuspecting orcs. As the guards fought the orcs, the orcs quickly fell to the fire. The rest were felled by the other guards.

One of the guards, a Rohirrim with a grateful look on his face, looked at Theomin. “Hail stranger. I have to thank you for that save. We have been hit hard by these orcs. A few of us have fallen but we are doing everything we can to save our fare town.”

“Where are these orcs coming from? Is that red eye the emblem of Mordor?” Theomin feared.

The guard sighed. “Indeed.” He continued. “They have established a base west of here I know not where.” As Theomin dismounted from his horse, the guard patted Theomin on the shoulder. “As you enter the Elthengels, find the master of the guard. Tell him Eolden and the guards at the northern barricades owe you a debt of gratitude. It is not every day we receive aid from strangers.”

“Thank you, sir.” Theomin continued, “To tell you the truth I DO have a question. There was a woman who came from here perhaps twenty years ago. Do you know of any woman from here who found a child in some Gondorian tower?”

Without much thinking, Eolden just shook his head. “I am sorry stranger but we guards do not mingle. Guard duty is an all day job and when we are not on guard we are either sleeping, eating or,” he smiled, “drinking ale. I wish you luck on your quest, stranger.”

Theomin then turned and made his way up the hill to the Elthengels. He entered the town and could not help but look around. The Elthengels was his first town outside of the Wold so he wanted to take in all he could see. It was built on the side of a hill as the town had different levels with the mead hall at the very top. Unlike other mead halls, though, this one was not a dominant feature of the the Elthengels. It was resting on a rock outcropping further back flanked on the south side by trees. The flag of the Elthengels looked like a statue not unlike the Argonath. It seemed like the Elthengels was a stop for those travelers of Rohan who wanted to visit the Argonath to the east. At least that was what Theomin gathered.

Not long after entering the town he was approached by a young man no older than fifteen. “May I stable your horse, kind sir?”

“Of course.” Theomin handed the reins to the young man.

“Thank you, sir.” The boy walked off down stairs with Bragga.

As he walked down the terraced stairs to the next level below, there was a different feeling to the town. The folks seemed friendlier than in the Wold. Those who walked past him nodded, some said “good day, stranger,” and if they did neither, they were not rude like those in Floodwend. It was a pleasant and unexpected surprise.

As Theomin descended the steps to the next terraced level, he noticed off in the west and north an approaching storm. It was darker than he had seen in the Wold. It looked even more ominous and vicious than he had seen. Theomin wanted, quickly, to find a place to shelter himself from the rain.

To the right on the second level, Theomin found what looked like a tavern. Walking into the tavern he looked back toward the stairs. A group of four strangers seemed to be running around as if on a desperate mission. One was a man of Rohan. Another looked like those elves he read about. Another he did not recognize. The stranger was not from Rohan nor was the forth. The forth was a woman who wore a strange garb and bore bluish facial paintings. It took Theomin back a bit as he had never seen that kind of woman before. Shrugging it off, he entered the tavern.

The constant hum and the occasional chuckle of the patrons of the busy tavern filled the room. Theomin approached the tavern owner as the owner eyed him. “What will you have, stranger?”

Seeing that everybody was having ales, Theomin did not want to be the only tavern patron to order a water even if it was very early in the morning. “I will take an ale.”

“Which one, my good ale drinker?”

Perplexed by the question as he had never drank before, he just pointed to a drink another marry gentleman was drinking. “That one.”

“Alright, stranger.” He said, a sound of warning in his voice. “So what brings you to the Elthengels?” He asked while pouring the ale into the mug and sliding it to Theomin.

Theomin paused for a moment. He was not sure if he wanted to tell his real story or just get some facts. He started, “I am looking for somebody who knew of a woman who lived here maybe twenty years ago.”

“No, I am sorry stranger. So many families have come and gone from this town I stopped paying attention. What does this woman mean to you?” The tavern keep enquired.

If there was any time to tell why he was there, it was this time. “Anybody who knew her might know of this piece of cloth.” He took out the cloth with the star on it. The tavern keep looked hard at it but in the end seemed to not know anything about it.

“I am sorry to say I have not a clue about that cloth.” The tavern keep just looked at Theomin with some sympathy. “Looking for your parents, are you?” Theomin nodded. “That ale is on me, my good man.” He took a small mug of ale and raised it to Theomin, “To brighter futures ahead.”

They tapped mugs and drank. The burning sensation Theomin felt as he drank the ale shocked him as he slammed down the mug. He coughed with eyes watering and looked at the tavern keep who had a wry smile. The conversations that seemed to be constant in the tavern paused for a brief moment, as everybody looked at him.

“Not an ale drinker are you?” The tavern keep quipped.

Breathing was not very easy after the ale. He coughed and grunted and cleared his throat, “I should not have swallowed that stuff.” He gave the tavern keep a smirk. “I appreciate the free drink,” he could barely say. He started to leave. “Now I am leaving to vomit.” Theomin exited the tavern. He could hardly walk when he bumped into that same stranger he saw by the staircase earlier. He did not care as he scrambled around to the side of the tavern to spit out any remaining ale in his mouth. “I do not know how people can drink that stuff.”

“I do not either.” A man next to him agreed. The very light blonde man was wearing a crimson outfit with a light blue neck guard. Slung on his right was a horn and on his left was a sword. He was one of the four Theomin saw running around on some mission. He was the man of Rohan but did not look like he was a guard of the Elthengels. “When I was young my instructor swore by the stuff.”

“And where is he now? Homeless I bet.”

Horn shook his head. “Actually he is the bard of the king.” Theomin stood still, surprised. The man then held out his arm to shake. “Horn.” He introduced himself.

Theomin clasped his hand in greetings. “Theomin. Well met.” He looked at Horn with inquisitive eyes. “Are you from the Elthengels?”

Horn looked around, seemingly for his companions. “I am not. I am from Eaworth. My companions and I are looking for three hunters who lost their companions to a band of Uruks. You have not seen these companions, have you?”

Theomin shook his head. “I have not. I will look out for them, though.”

“I appreciate the gesture, good stranger.” Horn smiled.

“And what about the other three you are with?”

“Well…” Horn started, “If you see a man with a bow around here, he is Corudan. He is an elf.”

“An elf?” Theomin was amazed. “I have only heard and read songs and tales of elves and even then I only thought they were a myth.”

“They are all too real my friend. I have seen them. I ventured into the enchanted forest of Lothlorien whilst attempting to save my other companion.”

“Lothlorien,” he said with fascination. “Is it real? A powerful magic is surrounding that place.”

“It is all too real and a beautiful place my friend. It is a place of wonder. The are tall trees where the elves have built homes up in them. Lights strung up trees. A sort of ethereal mist hangs in the atmosphere. It feels like a dream being there. You think it is a myth because that is what the elves want you to believe.”

Theomin wanted to continue on to his other companion but he was struck with wonder on Lothlorien and the elves.

“Horn!” A woman’s voice yelled out from the steps. It was the woman Horn was traveling with accompanied by the elf. “Corudan says he feels something approaching.”

“Yes, I have felt it. There is a horde approaching this town. They are traveling under the cover of the dark clouds.” The elf spoke beautifully but with urgency.

“Horn, we must fight!” The woman said.

He looked then at his companions. “Our friend is still in the tavern.” Horn paused for a brief moment then looked to command his mates, “I will take the lower part of the town. Corudan, you can stop them at the gate up above. Nona, mop up any others you see in the middle of the town starting behind the tavern. We will need to help these guards preserve this town.” Horn looked at Theomin. “You must fight or flee my good friend.” He shook Theomin’s arm. “I hope we meet again.” Horn drew his sword and ran down to the lower steps.

Theomin stood still. He was unsure what to do as those three companions rushed to aid the people of the Elthengles. The town’s people started to panic as they saw Horn and his friends running with weapons drawn. Then, not too long after, he heard screaming, growls of orcs, and swords clanging. The horrible sounds took him back to that night watching Langhold from the farm as the poor town was razed while Theomin watched, helpless to do anything about it. That night he could do nothing, “This day,” he declared with courage as he grasped his staff, “I will fight.”

He followed Horn down the steps, watching Horn kill orc after orc. With Theomin’s help, he made it down to the next level. He then followed the stairs down to the lowest level. The guards at the western gate were fighting with some orcs. Theomin raised his staff and sent a bolt of lightning down to one of the orcs. He then used the Light of the Rising Dawn to strike and subdue the other. Some darted past the guards, who were already busy fighting. Theomin had no time for other skills so he fought them using his staff. One orc fell to the staff. Another came and Theomin swung his staff again which triggered a bolt of lightning. During the brief pause, Theomin saw in the distance a large tower of white stone. He then focused on another line of orcs which were running up to the gate. The guards were ready but so was Theomin. He mustered all his strength to send an even more potent bolt of lightning. It took more time and more concentration but as he slammed his staff to the ground the bolt struck multiple orcs at the same time, shocking them as they lit a flame and fell to their death. The guards stood still as they looked at Theomin with their mouths dropped. Theomin was just as shocked as they were.

“Thank you good friend.” The guards hailed over to Theomin.

During the pause, all Theomin did was gave a brief hail to them. He bent down with exhaustion as the exhilaration of the battle subsided. It seemed the pause in the rounds of orcs was more than a pause. The fight was over. The skies started ot clear, revealing the morning sun once again.

As Theomin regained his wits, he looked in the distance with longing. He could not believe he was looking at the same tower he was searching for. It was the same tower Amandwyn, his former mother, met with the man she was going to marry. It was where she also found him. So much personal history was attached to that tower that Theomin started to weep a little.

“It looks like you made it out alive.” Horn said as he stepped down to Theomin. “Our journey will most likely turn towards Cliving if you are interested.”

Theomin just looked at Horn and then at the tower. “I have other business.”

“Ah, I thought as much.” Horn showed a little disappointment.

“Thank you for the invitation.” Theomin gave a grateful smile.

“Thank YOU, stranger. Good hunting.” Horn took his hand again, shaking it with a smile and with that, he was off up the terraced levels of the Elthengels probably to search for his companions.

Before leaving, he had an idea brought on by the burning sensation he had from the ale. He headed to a crafting station to craft himself some sticky gourds. The captain of the guard was more than happy to let Theomin use as much as the ingredients he needed for helping the guards at the barricades at the northern and the western gate. He placed his gourds in to a pouch of his and headed down to the western gate.

Theomin approached the western gate of the Elthengles. He looked north where there was a massive city on the hill laden with flags waving in the wind. It was Cliving. In the sky to the west he saw another storm approaching just as menacing as the last one which brought on the orcs. Trouble loomed in the distance as Theomin then gazed at the white stone tower. Standing atop the tower were golden statues that he had only seen on the haunted city north of his farm. “Minus Rant.” Theomin whispered to himself. He could hardly believe he was almost there.

He quickly fetched his horse and made for the western gate again, hoping he could make the Gondorian tower before the rain dampened his travels. He hoped the tower would hold the answer he was looking for.