Evening Council
Valandil took some time to reflect on recent events at his favorite pool, back against a large, shady tree, with his legs sprawled comfortably out in front of him. Instead of his usual schedule of a quick breakfast, hand to hand and weapons practice, a quick dunk, and on to lessons with Dournil, things had gotten serious, unexpectedly, with the messengers.
Dournil was off making examinations of the bodies with Captain Gandemere, leaving Valandil an opportunity to pull himself together. Gandemere had told him of the brief conversation he'd had with the messengers. The taller saying they'd been attacked by Orcs around the Gladden Fields. Gandemere had stated that he did believe that the two were sent from the King. So, was Meneldil trying to get him out of the way? Perhaps the title and lands of High Kingship were playing on his mind. Royal assassination wasn't unknown, Valandil just had some major doubts about Meneldil trying something like that. They were related after all.
Gandemere did say something about the dried blood stains and particular marks on their clothes, as if he was seeing something subconsciously, but couldn't quite get a grip on it. Someone was going to have to make a trip to Minas Anor.
It probably won't be me though. Valandil thought to himself. It wouldn't make much sense for me to walk right into the den of the lion, if said lion was actually trying to kill me!
Then there was the matter of his first blooding! He wished fervently that his first kill had been other than a man. An Orc, for instance, would have done nicely. How many times had he dreamed of battle and great deeds? To be as great as his brothers and father! Well, he thought, he'd been told training counted. And today it had probably saved his life!
Then he'd stood in front of the people who'd trained him and stared at the blood, bodies and his own sword like a troll at a bath! Fool! Ten kinds of fool! Some of those people even looked to him for leadership! What was it Elendur had told him once? "Self recriminations may be healthy, sometimes, but too much of anything can turn to poison, recriminations included. Learn from your mistakes, don't make the same one again." He prayed to Iluvatar he wouldn't.
People were counting on him to step up to a high position of responsibility, the highest, in fact, he had better be up to it. Thinking of 'better,' it was time he'd better go see what was happening. If nothing new about recent events had come to light, there was always firewood to cut and carry, gear to mend or clean, supplies to store away, or a dozen other daily tasks.
It was after the evening meal when Valandil appeared at the evening council. Present were all the leaders of the House Elendil and Rivendell, as well as advisors and captains. Customarily, Elrond's people sat to his right and left in the first three chairs, on each side, with Elrond sitting at the tables head. House Elendil sat on the right, usually taking four chairs. Others sat where they would. The room itself was sparsely furnished, though the walls were hung about with weavings and other works of art, bringing a warm feeling to the room. The table itself was a long rectangular affair, of closely fitted planks, planned and finished and waist high to a common man.
Valandil took a deep breath as he entered and nodded to those present, but kept his silence. He took his place between his mother and Dournil. These councils were held regularly, but no one had to tell him there would be one held this evening.
His mother looked like she had something to say, he could see by the way she held herself, straight and firm of jaw. Her hand lay on the table beside him, he covered it with his own and she smiled at him as she grasped his and held on. "I saw my life flee before my eyes today," she said. Before she could continue, Master Elrond stood, cutting short anything else she might have said.
"Good Eve, we have much to discuss, as well as new developments. I ask first for a report on the Gondorian messengers." Dournil and Gandemere exchanged a quick look, Dournil stood then and began.
"After examination of the bodies." he went on to tell of the bruises and curious marks found under the two men's clothes, as well as patches of dried blood on the clothes along with gouges and scrapes. The examiners had concluded that 1; They had been in battle; 2; They were messengers from Gondor, as they'd had their papers in their pouches. 3; There was evidence to show they'd been dragged, but there was no evidence to show they'd ridden horses, and none of their gear was the type used when riding (such as the longbows they'd both carried.) 4; They'd in all probability been whipped. Very little more could be ascertained.
Now Master Elrond stood again. "After the events at the gates, I sent some patrols"..... Steps were heard from the outer room. The door stood to right of Elrond's position, at the table head. Valandil couldn't see what was happening. Elrond nodded to someone in the outer room and continued, "A patrol of the area to the North, along the river, turned up a dwarf in bad shape. He has had a chance to refresh himself and wishes to address us," Elrond said, turning to look steadily at Valandil. This drew everyone's eyes. Valandil tried not to blush and look embarrassed.
By the One! he thought to himself, as he felt the blood rise, they look upon me as if I had something to do with it! A Dwarf probably meant something official. His interest was suddenly peaked.
Elrond gestured at the doorway and in came a sturdily built dwarf, dressed in a dark green cloth shirt, with a much blackened leather vest embroidered with runic designs, after the fashion of their people. An empty scabbard hung at his side, while a wide baldric still hung about his shoulders with a most curious, but empty sheath hung on the back. Valandil, as well as most everyone in the room knew what that usually held. The dwarf had a long, brown, curly beard, hanging to just above his belt, and wore a brown hood. His boots showed hard use, singed and filthy. His face looked haggard and drawn.
Standing where all could see, he directed a fierce glance about the room, making his beard and shaggy eyebrows bristle, passing then coming back to lock on Valandil. Valandil met his glance, and nodded in greeting. From the other room, Elrond produced a high chair for him to sit on, and moved his own chair to the far wall.
"We are all friends here, please be seated and at your ease," Elrond said, indicating the chair. Before sitting, the Dwarf stated, looking at the elves and men about the room, "I bring sad tidings of battle and war to this house." Shocked silence filled the room, nothing moved but dust motes, floating on the gentle currents of air. The Dwarf turned to Master Elrond, who in turn nodded, gesturing to the high chair. "Please" he said. The dwarf nodded and sat, feet off the floor, but head and shoulders close to the same apparent level above the table with the rest of the people gathered.
Finally, the Lady Cathirwyn, from a decanter in the middle of the long table, set about by empty flagons, demurely drew forth a measure of wine, and rising with all grace, set it by the Dwarf's right hand. He nodded to her. "My thanks good Lady." She only smiled, returned his nod with a small dip in curtsey and returned to her seat.
After slaking his thirst, the Dwarf began, "I am Huthorin of Dain's Folk, Lord of Khazad-Dum. Four days ago, I left our halls for a mission of trade in central Arnor. With me were fourteen of my folk. I am the only survivor.
Huthorin's Tale
"We left the halls of my people, entering into the thick clouds for which those mountains are named. The door we used, little known and secret, lies near the Eastern side of High Pass. From the top of the pass the wind blew clear our view and before us was the great beauty of Northern Arnor. We were midway down the Eastern slope when, a sound like none we have heard before caused us to look behind, and we saw mighty balls of flame crossing the sky from the Southern crest of the pass, and with great impact, strike the far Northern slopes. A rumbling shook the ground beneath us, and on the Northern side we saw the Stone people in the distance. They threw boulders and sailed flat, wide slabs of rock, like leaves at their enemies.
These stone People were like none we have seen before. Tall and dark, we were hard put to note details. We knew not who their enemies were, nor the manner of their attack! Some of these slabs and boulders bounced and rolled down both sides of the pass. Several bounced over and rolled close by us, some missing by the narrowest margins. We ran. One slab, passing near in wild career, smashed into a promontory on the North side before us. A great rent was made, and near the bottom, a passage was revealed." Huthorin paused for breath and drank deeply from the flagon beside his right hand. Everyone in the room took a breath.
"We did not stop at this time, but continued until we found shelter. After awhile the rumbling of falling rock, the flaming hiss of fireballs abated, but we did not venture forth until late in the day.
We then investigated the opened tunnel. Imagine, if you can, the surprise and dread that we, builders and citizens of great Khazad-Dum, felt at seeing passages so near, yet not of our craft! Ten of our number elected to enter, promising to return before sleeping. We outside waited and slept and waited again, they never returned. Some, myself included, ventured a short ways in. There was no sign. We made ready to leave, intending to return to our halls.
We started at sunset, but hadn't got very far when Orcs began coming down the pass, screaming and yelling, waving their weapons about. Once again, we ran, for there were many upon many times more than us! We thought to make our stand in the passage opening, for it could be defended by a few, but as we came to it, Goblins began pouring forth like a black spilth, and so we ran down the pass. Only By great craft and cunning did we manage to lose them in the dark. Come the morn, we found ourselves far from the pass and mountains, having gone straight North, into Arnor.
We began the return to our halls, intending to use the East gate, but before we came near, Rock Trolls appeared before us so suddenly that they must have been laying about on the ground, in wait of us. Once again we ran, but none can stand against Rock Trolls. Nay! Not even could we fight back against an enemy so large, without at the least, bows! But we fought as we might. Still we were overwhelmed, The trolls smiting down the last two of us, and rolling us over and about. I, bashed into an early sleep by a troll, knew nothing, until, upon waking, saw Orcs bearing down from a distance. My cousin and kin lay killed nearby, I fled south, winding up where your people found me near the river.
His face was downcast, eyes stared at the table in front of him. He lifted his flagon, this time draining it to the bottom. "That is my tale. I come before you to bring warning and ask you all to honour old friendships and vows. To ask aide. To ask Prince Valandil, heir of Elendil to intervene in some fashion. To do what he might to end this madness."