Entry Twenty Five: Summons
Where to begin…
It has been many months, since one has opened the pages of this withered journal. Perhaps he should have done so sooner, as the memory of his betrothed scribbling down her memoirs rushes back to him. Yet that was long, long ago…
So what has brought one back to these pages? After months of remaining docile in his home, tending to his garden. A messenger, sent by that of Lord Elrond and Khalis came calling to one’s door. Hesitant, one was at first. Yet once the messenger named his friend, Fiontann by name he began to listen. A summons has been called upon those of the bloodline… The very bloodline that one swore never to trust again…
Trouble apparently brews on the horizon and those of the Dunedain, sworn to protect the Free Peoples must take arms and protect the light from the dark. One questioned whether or not he should accept this invitation, yet after the boon granted by Khalis after the incident upon the borders of the Misty Mountains, he could not refuse. One would pack what was needed, preparing himself and Illith for the journey ahead.
One would keep to the shadows, crossing through the lands of Bree. No need to draw any unwanted attention from authorities, as the bounty remains on his head. Though he would make a brief stop within the mustering cave, hoping for Fiontann to receive the letter one sent before departing. Fiontann would come, looking a little older and wiser than one last saw. We spoke briefly, discussing events of past and present before he made his way back to Bree-Town. Before continuing on to Imladris, one had one last stop… Towerglan…
It had been sometime since he had seen his dear friend, Neyaa… She aided in clearing the air between him and those of the Bloody Dawn. Never properly thanking her, one would await on her doorstep until she returned home. At first sight, Neyaa would charge one and leap into his arms. One had not felt such warmth since his own time spent within the company of the Dawn… We would talk for many hours, reunited at last. Speaking of those who had come and gone from better and worse days. One thing would lead to another, spending each other’s company for the remainder of the night…
One would prepare himself for the journey ahead, but went beyond his better judgement. He asked Neyaa to join him on his journey. Knowing that Neyaa always dreamt of visiting the Vale, he thought this ample opportunity to do so. Hesitant at first Neyaa soon agreed, rushing off to make preparations for herself and son, Branston.
Branston, son of Hardoleth… There was a brief moment, where judgement was clouded and the boy could have been considered one’s own… But perhaps it was for the best he was not…
We would set off, saying her farewells and reminiscing in memory of all things as we passed through Towerglan. We would cross the borders arriving at our first stop within the Lone Lands, the Forsaken Inn. One did not wish to linger long within the Lone Lands, knowing of his past could cause the pair harm if caught. But one’s business would remain his own within the Inn, as most of the patrons would. Many shady dealings would happen either end or begin within the Inn. Neyaa would inquire about a room, as one would make sure he was not recognized.
This leads us to this moment and the writing of these words… Neyaa rests upon the bed, as a faint strange howling keeps one from sleep. Perhaps something to investigate before venturing onward… Time shall only tell…
