The Thane was waiting on the porch of the Mead Hall, looking at the rising stars, but he recognized the sound of Kestrel's bridle. "You're late," he said, but his tone was jovial. "Come, the meat is already laid out on the board, and we have much to discuss." A stable-boy was already waiting to take Kestrel the moment I dismounted, and the Thane was already inside.
"You know the tale of how our people came to dwell in the Riddermark?" the Thane asked me as I stumbled in a daze to the seat at his table. When I nodded, he said, "Tell me what you know."
"Well," I said, feeling like I was being put to a test, "Gondor had held these lands, but they were growin' weak, and couldn't keep 'em. The Dunlendings were creeping in the west and squatting, and in the east, the Balchoth were bringin' in armies with plans to strike into the heart of Gondor, and they didn't have the armies they needed to stop it, as they were busy elsewhere." The Thane seemed surprised and pleased that I knew so much of the tale. "So they sent out word seeking help. Eorl the Young brought his horses and men, and they struck down the Balchoth, I don't know where…"
"The fields of Celebrant. Go on."
"…aye, and the Steward, don't know his name…"
"Círion."
"Right, Círion, he gave this land to Eorl for his people, and they swore oaths then, that Gondor and the Eorlingas would ever after come to one another's aid."
"Your parents should be proud," the Thane said. "Most know only a few parts of that tale." I expected my ma would be more embarrassed than proud. The only reason I knew that much is that I was always more interested in stories than, say, doing the work I was supposed to be doing. "But when Eorl called his people, the Éotheód, to join him here, there were some that did not make the journey. Not many. Some who were too old, too young, or too ill to journey, or some who chose not to leave homes long loved."
"What came of them?" I asked, between mouthfuls of roasted pork.
The Thane smiled broadly. "That's one of the things you will help us find out. But first, how much do you know of the Curse of Wyrgende?" I had to admit I knew nothing of it. "Well, the full story isn't important right now. Suffice to say that a curse has been placed on the family of the King. While the curse holds, no son of the King will inherit the crown and hold it long. Some tragedy will befall him, as it has in the past. We don't know if it is still in effect, but if it is, Prince Théodred will surely fall to some ill fate, either before he can become King, or soon after."
I frowned, my appetite diminished by this ill news. I had, of course, never met Prince Théodred, but all of the Mark had heard of him, that he was a noble and strong leader, a great warrior, a powerful rider, and a man that men would follow. One of my brothers served in the garrisons in Helm's Deep in part because he was inspired by tales of the Prince's bravery. "Surely there's some means to break this curse!" I protested.
"And that brings us to what I have called you here for. The tales tell of two boons that Círion granted to Eorl. The land of Calenardhon, which we now call the Mark; and the Oaths of allegiance that bind us to Gondor. Only some of the wisest and most learned of the King's counsellors know tales of a third boon given from Círion to Eorl. A lantern of ancient make and finest craftsmanship, passed down from father to son amongst the kings and stewards of Gondor since the days of Elendil. We do not know when it was made, or by whom, only that it was of such beauty and skill that it must come from an Age long past. It may have come over from Númenor, amongst the artifacts saved by Elendil, fashioned in the mighty forges of that island. Or it may be even older, perhaps crafted by one of the ancient Noldor, the elves who could capture starlight in a gemstone and whose cunning in craftsmanship could achieve what seems impossible now. However it was made, it was said its light was so pure that it could drive away any shadow, not just ordinary darkness. Shadows on the soul such as might make a man wither, or shadows on a land left by ill deeds done long ago. Perhaps even the Curse of Wyrgende."
My eyes went wide. "The Prince may yet be saved! Where is this lantern?" I asked.
"No one has known even where to begin searching for many years, I am told," the Thane explained patiently, apparently pleased by how enraptured I was by the tale. My trepidation at being summoned for a mysterious journey was completely forgotten. "But recently some teller of tales found a hint, perhaps on a scrap of parchment in the deepest archives of the Golden Hall, a scrap of writing which suggests that Eorl sent the lantern to those of the Éothéod who remained behind, to guide their way, and protect them, since all the warriors of the Éothéod had come south to the Mark."
"So if we find those who lingered, we might find the lantern!" I cried out in wonder.
"And that is what you are set to do," the Thane explained.
I blinked, and stared for a long few moments. "Me?" I protested. "Surely you mean for someone else, someone wise, or who knows the roads and paths of the world, or… well, surely not me, anyhow."
The Thane smiled broadly. "Indeed, Leoffrith, you do not seem like the one I would think to send. I wish I might ride forth myself in search, with an éored and camp-followers, prepared to strike down any enemies that stand in our way. And perhaps some of the learned, and some of our finest scouts, amongst us as well. But I have just come back from Edoras, and you were specified by name. The wise counsellors to the King, who know things that are shrouded to the rest of us, and who have reasons no one else can glimpse, say that you have keen eyes that see what others miss, and a stout heart. And there is something more, I do not know what it is, that may grant you triumph in this undertaking, where no other hand, not even mine, might succeed."
I laughed. But the Thane did not join me, and the laughter died on my lips. "You sure they didn't mean Leoffweard?" I asked feebly, but the Thane merely shook his head. "I am just a farmboy, and not even a good one. I never been farther than Brockbridge. I don't even know where to start to search. They can't mean me."
With a surprisingly casual shrug the Thane dismissed the concern. "Nevertheless, they do. The Éotheód dwelled far north along the shores of the Great River. You will journey there and speak to the people you meet, seeking any word of what came of our long-sundered cousins. They may have migrated somewhere, or their descendants may yet dwell there now. And you will try to find the lantern, and return it to me. You will have the use of Kestrel, my finest horse, strong and wise, in your search. And you will have a fine sword, and a supply of coin, and whatever provisions you need. My steward is loading Kestrel's saddlebags with tent, bedroll, and such other materials you will require as you travel. You will set out with morning light and ride to the Limlight, and across it, northwards out of the Mark. Should you find the lantern, you will be a hero to the Riddermark, and the Prince and King will themselves be in your debt. Go rest now. You have many wearying leagues before you."
Any further objections seemed pointless to raise, and the Thane was departing already. It all felt like some sort of dream. I fell into a bed in the Mead Hall, already wearied beyond measure, and slept the last night I would sleep in Marton, for many years, perhaps forever.
