Earlier the next evening Duramarth met Lady Alkawen at the entrance to the Barrow-Downs. Although, the lady remained hooded during their meeting it was clear she was an Elder child of Iluvatar. She was slender and delicate but commanded a respect that Duramarth could not ignore. Duramarth was still unsure how the Lady knew who he was but nevertheless he felt he could trust her. She was in need of his services and although her demeanor remained calm and composed he felt a sense of urgency in her voice. Duramarth accepted the job and rode with haste straight from the Barrow-Downs all the way to Chetwood without stopping.
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Duramarth stepped down lazily from his horse and untied a medium-sized bag from the saddle, stuffed it with a few hundred feet of rope and slung the pack across his shoulder. He walked around the front of the mare inspecting her temperament before patting her gently on her muzzle. Then with a firm grip he pulled her close, whispering softly in her ear, *“Boe i 'waen. Novaer.” The horse answered back with a snarling grunt. “Duramarth turned away chuckling quietly to himself before shooting the horse a pseudo serious glare “I mean it Un. No trouble you hear!” And with that, the burglar took off in quick jog disappearing into the thick of the forest, leaving the horse to it's own affairs.
If Duramarth was to complete this job in the manner that was required, completely unseen he had to do this on foot, alone. While his horse Un was a faithful steed, she certainly had quite the personality. She was surefooted, with the work ethic of a mule, but also the stubbornness of one. The mare was a free spirit and could be quite vocal when she didn't get her way, exactly what a burglar didn't need on a task requiring such discretion.
*******
He had discovered the horse several years earlier while hiking a glacier in the White Mountains. He found her stuck in a large narrow crevasse screaming like the Nazgul. She had already lost half an ear to frostbite and would have surely not lived through the night had Duramarth not come to her aid. Because of this the steed was ever faithful to him. Duramarth had also decided that because she was missing half an ear and he, half a finger it meant their fates intertwined for better or worse. So he took her as his steed. But keeping with his family tradition that one did not name an animal of the forest; that it was up to the creature whether or not they would reveal their true name to their rightful master; instead he called her Un which in Sindarin means Creature.
*******
More than an hour had passed as the burglar finally found his way to the camp in the heart of the Chetwood, where the Lady Alkawen had said it would be. The veil of darkness was on his side and although the hour was late and most of the camp was asleep, the fire raged and several guards still lay about swilling tankards of ale, a few having mock duels with branches from the campfire. Two of the men in met in a fierce dance back and forth. Leaping and lunging at each other in exaggerated bravado. The battle ending when their stick swords clashed raining embers of blinding fury around the both of them.
The burglar was closer now, high atop the canopy of trees surveying the drunken revelry from a birds eye view. There were a dozen tents in the small camp and it was easy to spot the Captain's as it was the one with two torches brightly glowing at the entrance and guards posted, two in the front and one surveying the rear all looking regrettably sober. The burglar found his footing and quietly navigated across the branches until finding a large bough, directly above the Captain's tent.
It would be dawn in a couple of hours and Duramarth was running out of time. Moving quickly he tied one end of his rope to the limb underneath him and the other to himself. He only had one shot at this so he had to make it count. He counted the paces as the guard walked back and forth. The burglar waited...and waited...and then he leapt.
The motion was swift and precise. The burglar dropped in swinging legs first, his heals slamming into the upper back of the guard softening the burglars landing and knocking the guard unconscious in a single motion. The body landed with a loud thud and Duramarth looked around fearing he would be spotted. Luck was on his side and none were the wiser. As he untied the rope from his waist he looked down at the guard and checked his pulse a bit concerned. “I may have broken his neck,” he thought. No time, he would have to worry about that later.
Duramarth lifted the heavy canvas and slid underneath and into the tent. The burglar blinked a few times letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. The Captain was fast asleep as his nose could be heard singing the chorus of dreams. Duramarth glanced around the tent. There underneath a pile of cloth, a large strongbox.
He made his way over to the chest. Reaching into a hidden pocket sewn into the fabric of his heavy cloak the burglar produced a small set of tools. He put his tension wrench into the keyhole and applied some pressure, then applied the pick. He felt around for a minute, then pulled. The lock sprang open! The sound of the lock was tremendous in the quiet room and for a moment the burglar thought he had been found. He looked around cautiously but the sweet melody of dreams still played in the background.
The burglar carefully lifted the lid on the box reached in and felt around for the map. His fingers brushed against parchment. “Got it!” he whispered. With no time to waste he tucked the map away, produced another from behind his breastplate and made the switch. Quickly, he snapped the lock shut on the strongbox, tossed the cloth back over the top and slipped out of the tent unnoticed.
The guard still lay face down incapacitated but he was breathing again and quite heavily. He would live. The burglar grabbed the rope, made a twisting motion and then a strong tug. Suddenly, the rope fell to the ground. Duramarth wrapped up his cord and walked out of the camp.
It would be hours before Duramarth found Un lazily sipping from a small brook about a half mile west of where he had left her. *“Na vedui!” the burglar exclaimed;“Un, where have you been? Out on your own adventure I suppose.”
Duramarth and Un arrived at the meeting place early the next morning. The burglar pulled three smooth stones from his pack and placed them in a row on top of the wall below the meeting place as instructed. He looked around for a moment sensing he was being watched. He saw nothing. “I will find you,” the Lady had told the burglar. Duramarth climbed onto Un gently petting her neck and whispering into her ear, “We will see Un...we will see.”
*Boe i 'waen (I must go), Novaer( Be Good), Na vedui! (At last!)
