The Family Line Part 41 – Under Shadow of Night

Part 41 – Under Shadow of Night

Night encompassed all of Breeland as the hour was late. The stars were brilliantly lit, glowing bright in the backdrop of the black night sky. Trees were planty as Theomin and Eleswith rode away from the old ruins. But they were not alone. They were being hunted by the remaining goblins who had run after them near the old ruins.

With very little strength left, the two could only fight so many, but there were too many to count, well beyond their own strengths. The wearing was showing on Bragga too. The poor horse could not take the relentless chasing and the goblins did not seem to tire at all. They continued on behind them stalking them, and taunting them.

“Why not head to Bree?” Theomin asked, tired of the chase.

“No,” Eleswith began, “we will not lead an entire band of goblins into the village of Bree. I am not sure how they do things in Rohan but you do not want to lead these things within a hundred yards from a village.”

Theomin nodded. She was right, of course. They had to come up with a plan and quick. The tiring of Bragga made their situation even more dire.

“Let me off,” Eleswith finally told Theomin.

“But you will be killed,” protested Theomin, shocked at her dire request.

“Every second we waste brings them closer to us and with your horse tiring, it’s only a matter of time before they catch up and kill us. Theomin, let me off.” Theomin stayed quiet for a few moments, trying to think of another way, “Do it, while they still have time yet to catch us.” Theomin stopped, reluctantly letting off Eleswith. “Head north while I head south. That will split them off into smaller groups.” She started to run south when Theomin stopped her.

“We need to meet somewhere,” he told Eleswith as quickly as possible.

“We will meet where we were to meet before. At the Inn of the Prancing Pony.” She then ran south and into woods.

Theomin headed north, drawing a few of the goblins with him. He knew it was not going to be simple to slip from their sight. Bragga was too big to hide. He looked behind, seeing the group of goblins approaching closer than before. He then heard cracking in the woods on a rise just north of him. Something large was moving in the forest. Larger than those goblins he was trying to evade. Soon, out of the thick of the forest a bear wandered out, lumbering along looking at the forest floor. An idea sprang to Theomin’s mind. He looked down at Bragga, “One more burst of energy for me, girl.” He kicked her along. It took only a moment for her to jump to speed. Theomin pushed her up the small hill, past the bear and continued along. The bear hardly noticed Theomin and his horse but turned to see the goblins. Theomin stopped to watch the goblins and the bear. The small band of goblins, upon seeing the bear, wince for a moment.

“Get him?” one of the goblins questioned to the rest of the goblins behind before its head was effortlessly lopped off by the angry bear. The others tried their best to attack the bear but with all their effort, it was too powerful for the small band of weak goblins to overtake. It swiped at them one by one with its massive paws as they tried hopelessly to pierce its thick hide, making no dent in its armor-like fur until they were wiped out, save three who ran from the death claws of the bear.

The three goblins that escaped from the massicer of the bear, Theomin wanted to personally confront. He galloped past the bear and past the fearful goblins, swiftly dismounted from Bragga, and stood there, facing them down. The goblins cowered in fear before Theomin as he approached them. He then conjured up burning embers and set the last three golins ablaze. They ran about, screaming in pain until they finally succumbed to their burns as Theomin watched without pity, without mercy, and without so much as a second guess at the pride he felt watching the goblins burn upon the grounds before him.

His part in dispatching the goblins was done. His only fear was for Eleswith and how she fared on her part. Despite how much he wanted to know, he just wanted to make it to the Inn of the Prancing Pony. He knew how much curiosity cost him. He missed his poor lynx. He knew not when his poor lynx went missing. He hope it was before the falling of the ruin walls but he did not know.

With Aches missing and Eleswith off dealing with her share of the goblins, Theomin felt the pain of loneliness pulsing at him. It had only been a few days he had met Eleswith but there seemed to be a bond they forged in that short time. No longer did he feel anxious in her company. Actually, the anxiety he felt was in her absence.

He continued west toward the dim lights in the distance, which was hopefully where Bree was. Finally he came to a road, trusting it was the Great East Road. After a little traveling and a few turns, out in the distance was a large wooden gate eliminated by tourches on both side of it and two guards posted in small guard boxes on both sides of the gate. Behind the gate, rising over it, was a village of quite some size. Nowhere before had he seen such a mass of houses peaking over the edge of a gate.

To the south of the gate was a ditch, in which a small wooden barricade stood closest to the village. The wall of the village was a simple but tall hedge that spanned the entire length of the town and looked like it continued along out of view. To the north of the gate a hill rose up, creating a natural defensive wall from the outside of the village.

With no checks at the gate, he entered into the village. The scale of it almost became apparent as it continued on under over hanging houses. The houses themselves were wooden and spackled with some type of cement or mud brick, nothing of which he had ever seen before; some with white and some with brown cement. Some of the other buildings were built up from rock to but all had sloped rooftops and carried chimneys.

Lamps were lit on the streets of the village as the people still bustled along on tasks of their own, winding down their day either finishing up their chores or sitting and drinking ales carrying on conversations and laughing. The sight of Theomin did not stur any interest in them. They continued to carry on their conversations with out even a second glance at him and his horse. He stabled his horse at the stable master near the eastern gate and received directions for the Prancing Pony.

He headed out into the main part of the village. It continued to stretch even more than he thought it could ever stretch. No town he had ever visited ever matched the size of Bree for it continued on further up the slope of the hill. Streets continued on through allys and up small sideways off the main artery of Bree. Statues and fountains of boars were erected throughout the town as were banners with the heads of boars on a red field hung about the town. Main plazas also contained boar fountains along with kiosks lining the edges of the plazas where people were still busy purchasing goods.

As he rounded the way past one of the main plazas there, standing tall and proud was a large inn. Hanging above the steps up to the main door was a pony rearing up while above the door read, “Inn of the Prancing Pony” and below in terribly faded letters on old warped and rotten wood it read, “Barliman Butterbur.” He finally made it to the inn.

Stepping inside was not much of a contrast to the outside. Only a few people were inside the inn. Those who were inside were either drunkenly singing or passed out drunk on the tables. One large man sat on a chair being fanned with a cloth by a tiny person next to him. The large man had one foot up on a stool as he sat back, seemingly exhausted.

“Excuse me,” Theomin started but was cut off by the man jumping up as if hoping Theomin had not seen him resting.

“Hello, sir, what can I do for you?” he asked with a jolly tone. “Nob,” he said to his tiny assistant, “see to it this man has a table.”

Theomin continued, “Yes, I am looking for a woman by the name of Eleswith.”

“Eleswith,” he whispered to himself, hoping to jog his memory, “Not sure if I’ve ever heard of such a person,” the large man said.

“She has darker skin and dark hair. Her cloth is poor and bears a crossbow,” he said, hoping to assist the man’s memory.

“Hmm,” he looked around the room as if something might help along his memory. “I have seen many people in my time and that description defines most of those people who come in here. We get people from all over, some tall, some small, some dark and not. Even had a wizard here on occasion,” he said gloating.

“Wizard?” Theomin said, almost forgetting about Eleswith. He tried to place her in the back of his memory to hear more about the wizard, “And what was the name of the wizard?”

“He has a name,” he started when his memory seemed to leave him, “he has a name of which I seemed to have forgotten at the moment.”

The man’s small servent walked past the large man and Theomin and quickly said, “Gandalf.”

“Oh, yes Gandalf is his name. Gandalf the Grey!” his memory had been properly jogged.

“Oh,” Theomin said sadly. He was hoping to hear Radagast but his location was still elusive. “And about this Eleswith, no woman has been here recently?”

“I’m afraid not, sir. People come and go and eventually they return every now and again. If you’re lookin to wait for your friend, we have some some quaint rooms available. If this friend of yours comes in, I’ll point her your way.”

“Thank you, kind sir. I shall take a room but first I will go ahead and stay for a bit in your dining room. Hopefully she will show up soon enough.”

“That’ll do, kind sir. How’s about an ale while you wait.”

“I care more for a tea and biscuit, if you have some.”

“Of course kind traveler of…where did you say you were from?”

“I am from Rohan.”

“Rohan,” he said astounded, “we don’t get people from Rohan up here. Take a seat and relax on the house. You’ve had a long journey I reckon.”

Theomin looked down with a heavy load of memory behind his look, “I know.” He said thank you and went about sitting down to the side of the parlor and waited for his friend to come through the door.

Under the pale glow of the moonlit night, the shadows of the trees made the land dark and sinister. The sounds of goblins pleagued Eleswith as she continued along, losing energy rapidly. She looked back and shot a bolt at one of the goblins. It struck the goblin in the eye and fell to the bolt but the others continued to stalk her, carelessly running right over the dead goblin. There had to be a dozen or more following her as their little growls grew in excitement the closer to her they got. With exhaustion, she stumbled her way through the forest, catching her foot on roots and tripping over stones she could not see. She could not even reload her crossbow due to the extream fatigue she had. With not much strength left, she hurled one of her swords at the group of goblins, hitting one in the chest sending it flying back, knocking a couple over. They still continued to follow after her relentlessly persuing her, knowing she was going to eventually collapse and give up.

A sudden slight gust of wind and a whistling sound flew right past her. It caught her off guard as she stumbled to the side. She looked back and one of the goblins was struck in the head. It fell back but that still did not stop the goblins from continuing to advance on her. Another arrow flew past and struck another goblin, felling it to the nighttime ground. Only one moment later a figure in black stormed past Eleswith, charging at the group of goblins and then striking at each, killing them with speed and precision, felling them one by one. Eleswith watched in stunned silence as the masked stranger dispenced of the entire group quicker than she ever could. Then, as quickly as he arrived, he ran off, vanishing into the blackness of the night. Eleswith stood there in the dark of the forest and just whispered in stunned silence, “Thank you.”