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Stirrings of Shadow  by Fiondil

45: Infiltrating Upbourn

The ride down the Snowbourn was uneventful, though near the end they had a struggle getting their raft to shore. They sped past Upbourn with the intention of coming back to it from the north, surmising that any watch would be concentrated to the south where the king was. They were soaked by the time they reached the shore, but had planned for that, pulling out dry clothing from waterproofed bags, stowing their wet things and making their way back towards Upbourn.

Ragnawulf had told them about the postern gates on the river side, explaining that they were rarely bolted from the inside even at night, so secure did the inhabitants think themselves. "No one ever imagines an attack from the river," he had told them, "and leaving the postern gates unbolted allows for escape in case the town is taken."

"That’s why they bolted the gates of Underharrow from the outside," Gilhael stated with disgust. The others nodded their understanding.

"So, do we try one of the postern gates?" Gilhael asked Aragorn as they made their slow way in the moonless dark. Upbourn loomed before them, a square shadow rising from the snow.

"I think not," Aragorn replied, "though I suspect we’ll need to use one of them for our exit."

"Over the wall then?" Gilhael asked. "Rather more dangerous."

"Agreed. I think, however, it’s our best bet. Ragnawulf did say that at the southwest corner of the ramparts there was a huge boulder that partially obstructed the view of the river."

"Seems strange to me that they did not remove the boulder," Gilhael opined.

"Indeed, it does, but that may work to our advantage. The sentries apparently cannot see around the boulder, so they rarely bother to keep a constant watch on that part of the wall."

"Ah... now I see what you’re getting at. You are quite clever, Cousin, for all that you are barely sprouting whiskers."

"I was raised by Elves, don’t forget," Aragorn said, smiling, though it was too dark for Gilhael to see it. "I learned how to be devious from those who have had long practice in the art."

Gilhael chuckled softly. "That is certainly true. Here, we’ll want to move towards those willows. They’ll give us the necessary cover until the sentries on this side move off."

They made their way towards a stand of willows gracing the riverbank and waited. They had timed their journey with the intention of being in position just as the watch was changing. There was always some level of confusion as sentries were replaced and they were hoping to use that to their advantage. They did not have too long to wait, and as the one sentry they could see moved eastward along the wall, they made their way along the river until they were hugging the west ramparts, stealing along from one pool of darkness to the next until they had reached the southwest corner without incident.

They could see the boulder, a shapeless granitic megalith that was wider at the base than at the top and easily two and a half times Aragorn’s height. It obviously had proven impossible for the Rohirrim to move. Ragnawulf had admitted to them that the original builders of the town had miscalculated where the ramparts should go and by the time they reached the southwest corner it was too late to tear everything down, so the planners compromised by building around the boulder, leaving it outside the wall.

"They would’ve done better to build so the boulder was inside the walls," Gilhael commented in a whisper. Ragnawulf had told them that the boulder was pocked enough with gouges that a determined person could climb it and hence make it over the wall.

"We must remember to thank whichever Vala inspired the original builders not to do so, then," Aragorn said with a chuckle and Gilhael echoed him, even as he gave the younger man a boost up so he could reach the nearest handhold. He had to grope for the next one for there was no moonlight to aid him. It was tedious and treacherous; one small misstep and he could end up crashing down on Gilhael who was right behind him. A sound from the ramparts froze him with one hand outstretched in search of the next handhold. He felt Gilhael bump him and smiled as he imagined what his cousin might be thinking but didn’t dare say out loud.

The noise got louder and now Aragorn recognized it as a sentry making his rounds. He didn’t dare move to try to get a better grip on the rock for fear of alerting the man and so was forced to hang there by one hand until he went past and had turned the corner to walk along the river side of the ramparts. Aragorn’s arm was trembling with the strain of holding himself in place and, in spite of the cold, he was sweating with the effort. Gilhael may have sensed his discomfort for Aragorn felt his cousin inching up by slow degrees until Aragorn’s feet were directly over Gilhael’s shoulders and he understood that his cousin was willing to take the strain off him. He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed his hold a bit.

The sentry finally disappeared into the night and Aragorn began his climb again. He came to the crest of the megalith and stopped to catch his breath. He was not quite on a level with the top of the rampart but the builders had apparently decided to build the wall as close to the boulder as they could, not bothering to take into account the possibility of this being a weak point in their defenses.

Which is just as well, he thought, allowing himself a brief ironic smile as he inched his way around the boulder until his back was to the rampart. There were perhaps no more than six inches between him and the wall, so he carefully leaned against it and, using it as a prop, turned himself around so his back was now to the boulder. Then he reached up and grabbed the posts and pulled himself up and over, landing as quietly as he could. He took a few seconds to make sure he had not been noticed before standing up and reaching over the wall to assist Gilhael up. In minutes the two Dúnedain were crouching in the corner where the south and west walls met, attempting to get their bearings in the dark.

Gilhael pointed east. "The nearest set of stairs down is in that direction," he whispered, "but Isenwulf’s home is on the other side of the town from here."

Aragorn nodded though it was doubtful Gilhael could see. "Best to take these stairs rather than risk being accosted by a sentry if we attempt to get across the town by way of the wall. Come. The sooner we find him the sooner we’re out of here."

They stole along the south wall until they were about half-way to the next corner. There, they found wooden steps leading down, bringing them into an alley between two houses. The ground, though snow covered, proved uneven and so they stepped carefully along, keeping to shadows when they could, risking open spaces when they had no choice, flitting from one building to another in a zig-zag pattern that eventually brought them into the main square where the feast hall stood.

The hall was dark. Indeed all along the way they had noticed that most of the houses were dark and silent. Once they saw a dim light spill from under shutters and heard the creaking of a rocker as a mother attempted to soothe her fractious child with her milk and a lullaby. Otherwise, all was silent, save for the soft calling of the sentries as they made their rounds. Nowhere did they see anyone about and surmised that the town was under curfew.

"This makes it easier for us," Aragorn whispered to Gilhael as they crouched by the town well to get their bearings. "Isenwulf is more likely to be in his own home than elsewhere. Have you noticed that even the inn across the way is shuttered? It is not so late in the night that it would not normally be open."

Gilhael nodded in agreement, then pointed slightly east of north. "That way. Isenwulf’s house is along that alley and facing the river."

Without another word the two Rangers crept across the square like two liquid shadows, noiseless and barely seen. Too bad we cannot walk on snow as the Elves do, Aragorn thought to himself as they reached the intended alley and moved silently along, then we would truly leave no trace and wouldn’t that be a fine puzzle to leave these good people? Gilhael reached out and tapped his cousin on the shoulder to bring him to a halt. Someone was approaching from the other end of the street. A quick glance showed their only avenue of escape was the way they had come and that might prove too dangerous. Making a quick decision, Aragorn motioned for Gilhael to flatten himself into the doorway of the nearest building while he went back a short way to the next house to do the same.

He pulled his hood as far forward as he could and tucked his chin into his neck to avoid being noticed. It was inconceivable that whoever was making his way down the alley was not carrying a torch or lantern and he hoped that the person would be more intent on reaching his destination than examining the doorways along the route. Assuming he isn’t making his way towards either of these two houses, Aragorn thought with a frown, and slowly reached down and kept a ready hand on the hilt of his knife.

The figure they had heard approaching was not walking surefootedly, but to Aragorn’s mind somewhat hesitantly, yet not in a sneaking way, for he could hear the man humming a tune and as he came closer Aragorn could tell that the man was, if not drunk, certainly tipsy. He held his breath, hoping that the man’s inebriated state would make him less likely to notice him and Gilhael hugging the shadows of the doorways. Yet, as luck would have it, the man actually slowed his walk and stopped directly in front of the doorway where Gilhael stood. There was a sense of hesitation and confusion in his stance as he stared at the Ranger blocking his way.

"Hey! Wash y’doin’ in m’doorway?" the man demanded, reeling slightly from drink.

Aragorn cursed silently to himself, already removing his knife from its sheath as he started forward, but was stopped by Gilhael’s voice.

"Your pardon, friend," he heard the older Dúnedan say softly in flawless Rohirric. "I stopped for a moment to get out of the cold."

"Oh," came the reply. "Ish it cold? I hadn’t notished."

"No, I supposed you hadn’t." Aragorn could almost see his cousin’s smile. "Well, I will be on my way, friend. Thank you for the use of your doorway." Gilhael stepped around the man who nodded.

"’S fine. G’night." The man fumbled at the latch of the door and then stepped into the house without a backward glance at Gilhael.

"And a fair night to you as well, friend," Gilhael said softly with a chuckle as the door closed behind the other man.

Aragorn came to him, resheathing his knife. "That was close," he whispered and felt rather than saw Gilhael nod. "Will he remember you, do you think?"

Gilhael shook his head. "I do not know. Come, Isenwulf’s house is just ahead. Let us get on with this. The longer we are in Upbourn the more dangerous it will be for us."

Aragorn could not help but agree and so he willingly followed his cousin toward Isenwulf of Upbourn’s house, which was larger than its neighbors, with its gabled roof. The house actually overlooked a small square, facing west. Unlike the other houses surrounding the square, this one showed evidence of someone still awake within for light filtered through the single shuttered window. The two Dúnedain looked at each other.

"What do you suggest?" Gilhael asked.

Aragorn shrugged. "It’s impossible to sneak into a house where at least one person is awake. We can either wait until that person retires or...." He paused, as if thinking.

"Or what?" Gilhael asked after a moment when Aragorn did not appear willing to continue.

"Or we simply invite ourselves in."

Gilhael sucked in a breath at that, but really, it wasn’t a bad thought. Crazy, but then the whole venture was insane, so why not? He felt himself grin and a feeling of recklessness coursed through him. "Are you going to knock or should I?"

Aragorn chuckled and made his way to the door. Gilhael was right beside him and the younger man noted with approval that his cousin held a knife at the ready. Aragorn removed his own knife from its sheath and with the other hand lifted the latch to the door, praying that the door was not locked, and it wasn’t. He slitted his eyes just before opening the door, knowing that his night sight would be compromised as soon as he stepped into the lighted room. They would need to make this quick. He opened the door just enough to allow himself and Gilhael to slip through before closing the door again. Gilhael blocked the way while Aragorn stepped further into the room and saw a typical keeping room with a kitchen fireplace along one wall and a table and chairs occupying the center. A curtain marked off what must be a bedroom and a rude ladder along the opposite wall from the fireplace led to a loft. Before the fireplace were two chairs, one of them a rocking chair. Both were occupied. On the right was an older Man, his greying hair braided in the Rohirric style, who looked up at the intruders without a hint of surprise in his eyes. The other—

"Ah... Good evening, gentlemen. We’ve been expecting you."

"Mi-mithrandir?" Aragorn stuttered in disbelief even as he heard Gilhael gasp in shock.

The old Wizard sitting in the rocking chair nodded, smiling benignly as Isenwulf of Upbourn started laughing.





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