After Barkindor and Carmiriel found out about the Uruk camp, they didn’t wait long.
By the next noon, they had already ridden there.
It wasn’t hard to track, the signs were clear.
The camp was heavily guarded, and the Uruks looked much stronger and more dangerous than the Radlaw bandits.
They didn’t need the leader; just one Uruk to question, to find out where they were coming from and why they were in Swanfleet.
It didn’t take long for them to use the element of surprise.
They struck the weakest point of the camp, quickly cutting down three Uruks and slipping inside to find one alone.
Barkindor spotted an Uruk near the food tent, playing with grog barrels.
He was already drunk and not paying attention...
An easy target...
Carmiriel struck very fast. A flash of light shot from her staff, dazing the Uruk before he could shout and she forced him to speak.
They only got one word...
“Tharbad.”
A ruined city on the border between Swanfleet and Cardolan.
Once a proud trade city, connecting Arnor and Gondor.
Now, it was nothing but broken stone and crawling shadow.
Barkindor didn’t want to go there...Not yet...
But he knew he had no choice.
If they wanted to stop the raids, that’s where they had to go.
Carmiriel saw it in his eyes.
She gently offered that they could rest for the night and ride at first light.
He nodded, but his heart was already on the road.
The raids were growing bolder and there was no time to waste.
When they reached the border of Cardolan, Barkindor couldn’t hold it in.
This was where his mother was slain...
Where his father vanished chasing the orcs, never to return...
Carmiriel reached for his shoulder, trying to comfort him.
But the weight of the past had just fallen on him again.
Like the boy he once was had never truly left this place.
There was nothing to say.
Carmiriel held his hand and led him to a quiet spot nearby.
They made a fire and sat in silence.
No talking...
No words...
Just the sound of the flames…
And the distant sound of orcs echoing through the night...
