Lusseriel was sitting near a campfire, her journal on her laps, and her eyes drown despite herself to her harp. She’s had a music in her mind for hours now and…
She scribbled the date on a corner absently, and winced at the cheer mess that made… And then she shrugged. It was just a personal journal, it was of no consequence.
“It’s stunning how much calm just a bit of rest can restore in someone. I wouldn’t say all our problems are resolved, but I feel less like everything is a disaster and everyone here is going to die horribly. Not to say it won’t happen but it feels less like a doomed reality that’ll happen on a short term, and more like a possibility, so that’s good.
This being said, today was as bad as yesterday, and I doubt our days are going to get much better anytime soon now. Our luck doesn’t seem to run that way after all.
This morning I met with Candath again at the door of the room left to Issuriel and the hidden company. When our companions joined us again, we met with everyone, and… Broin interrupted the meeting. Good thing for his continual survival, he found a flower and gave the antidote to Issuriel.
I was perhaps a tiny bit hasty in judging him?
Which doesn’t mean he isn’t a pig-headed idiot for this whole plan, AND that he’s not responsible for the death of those who fell already to defend the orc for him, but…
Anyway, Issuriel should survive and the rest of us went with the rest of the Hidden Guard and Broin to the gate of Dol Guldur, which was a bad idea to start with and anyone with half a brain could have told them that, but… Well… We went.
To my surprise, most of us survived the encounter. Achardor didn’t though. I’m not going into details of what happened, but Bori is still imprisoned within the fortress, Achardor is dead, the 3 dwarves taken with Bori are dead, and the rest of us had to run away to save our lives.
At least we could run away to save our lives, all thanks to Achardor.
Oh and Mazog stayed in Dol Guldur, of course. And oh how I hope we cross path again. Just once would be enough…
We returned, unhappy and put in front of the very fact of what we were facing. Dol Guldur will not easily relinquish its prisoners. Though, worst odds have been beaten before, so why not now?
We just need to find another entrance, and a lot of luck. Or a very, very, very good diversion.
Annag, who was with us briefly today, seemed to disagree with my vision of the situation: “Are all elves this disconnected from practical reality?” She asked.
And meh, practical reality tends to change after a few centuries, let alone a few millennia.
Besides, just trying to imagine living millennia with the same routine trying to stay safe within the borders of the like of Rivendell or the Haven… It’s enough to send me running far, fast and screaming. There’s a reason why I’m a messenger and a wanderer and it’s certainly not my love for a danger-free life. So if there’s a chance to pull it off… Why not try?
Also I suffer from a terribly unhealthy case of curiosity. A friend of mine once called it insanity but.. It’s just… Safe is boring and routine is deadly and… and by all rights we should all be dead already anyway. Coming at the door of Dol Guldur for the sake of a dwarf? Please…
Anyway, back to today. Candath seemed to think that Ningloril is our last hope to find out more about how to enter Dol Guldur. Perhaps she is, perhaps she is not, we’ll see.
Aireliniel and Ilthirian joined us then. Candath caught them up on the situation we went through. That elf is so much more optimistic than I can be, it’s fun. “Betrayed we have been, but it went as about I expected it to go.” He said.
Yes, going after Dol Guldur and so stupidly at that, I expected us all to die. No offense to anyone but going through the front door of an enemy fortress to exchange a prisoner on the prisoner’s own words regarding their own value… No, I didn’t quite expect that one to work as well as it did. So all in all in my opinion it went far better than expected.
It may still happen that we die but hopefully this time we’re done following the orders of a dwarf with more stubbornness than brain.
So we rode toward Thangulhad, and we indeed found Ningloril there. She sent us to kill leaders of various orc camps and get their battle plans if we could get them.
Easier said than done, but we managed. No one was injured, or poisoned, or touched something they shouldn’t have, so we’re good.
Only when we brought back the plans, Ningloril couldn’t read them but she recognized one word: “Dush” meaning sorcery.
I hate that word in areas like this one. It only means Trouble.
Well, more trouble than I like at any rate.
I mean, I’m aware our chance of escaping Dol Guldur with our friend and all of our lives is next to none. I’m aware our chance of survival altogether is slim. I’m aware that if we all survive it’ll be a miracle and I just hope we all escape a lifetime of torture if we don’t manage to escape Dol Guldur…
But there’s being willing to risk that and there’s being willing to deal with sorcerers who can possibly bind your spirit after your death and use your decaying corpse as a disturbing slave of their will. The first I have no problem risking, it always has an end date after all and you don’t live 6000 years in Middle Earth without accepting that yes, there’s a risk, but the second…
But anyway, we had our task, stealing some of their spell-tomes if we could and get us rid of some of the spirits while we were at it.
While we were speaking with Ningloril, Dealia seemed to take an interest in the ballistae in the camp… I hope for their sake that they won’t need the ballistae anytime soon or that they have someone on hand to check them over after Dealia…
Hobbits don’t have siege weapons I fear and I’m not the only one here who’s moved by curiosity apparently.
As we were wondering how to get to the Ashenslades, and considering our options, we crossed path with Tirnelion again. He agreed to lead us through Ashenslades but no further. Good thing we only needed a guide to Ashenslades.
Besides, going into Dol Guldur needs to be an entirely voluntary decision. It’s suicidal enough, no one wants to risk being responsible for the death or worst of one they convinced to come against their initial will.
So we went. And were attacked by an orc. Not that he had any luck but still…
We managed to get to where we were supposed to go and… Well, we saw exactly what I had hoped to never see again. Sorcerers had spirits at their command. I’m sorry for the fate of those spirits. Not all of them can have deserved their fate.
But we managed, and hopefully managed to send some of those spirits to their final rests though I won’t hold my breath over that one, and we came back all in one piece, which is a small victory on its own.
Also being in this situation and faced with those spirits, an annoyingly persistent and old song came to my mind and that was all I could do to keep singing it aloud. Not sure it’d have been appreciated.
Anyway, our victory was short lived for we barely arrived back in Thangullad that we learnt the camp was going to be under attack at dawn tomorrow.
Candath sent Ilthirian and Tirnelion to Ost Galadh and the Haunted Inn to warn our friends. I wish he’d send Dealia too for safety’s sake.
Candath sent Dealia to rest, hopefully not to touch the siege engines. Poor Dealia, she means well but I don’t think her expertise lies with siege weapons.
Or sieges altogether come to think on this.
And there Candath asked me the most outlandish thing I’ve ever been asked. And in a few millennia, that’s quite the feat: “I have never asked you... but with your knowledge of herb-lore and healing... perhaps there are some concoctions you could make for us? What the dwarves or goblins might call black powder?”
Of course, every healer learns how to make things explode in the course of their herb lore lessons. It’s standard practice…”
Lusseriel couldn’t hold back from laughing slightly at that memory.
“As luck had it though across the years I had various interests and yes, making things explode or catch fire did come up once or twice. It can come in handy sometimes, and some alcohol or explosive powder or just the right tree sap thrown into a campfire can be quite the diversion if you’re stuck in a tree and need to disappear before a group of orcs catch your scent. Also it's more practical to bring mayhem and chaos to orc camps by putting the whole thing on fire.
So I told him I’d see what I can do, and he suggested I speak to the dwarves here in the camp. Which… Wasn’t a bad idea per se, but they promised to look into it and told me to mind my own business while they did because they were busy and had no need to add an inexperienced person into their duty.
Which, rude, but fair enough. I went to offer my help around the camp and here is the first chance to rest I got.
And I still have that damn song stuck in my head. I do wonder if people would mind. After all we’re waiting an attack so… On the other hand I could probably be quiet. Somewhat quiet that is, and it doesn’t need to bother people. And I’ve helped prepare the camp and now all we can do is rest so surely…
Well I guess if it does bother someone they’ll know how to protest.”
Lusseriel bit her lips. She had chosen one of the campfires that were almost deserted after all, there was in all one elf nearby and he was on the camp’s wall watching outside for signs of attack.
She put her journal back in her backpack and picked up her harp.
She did try to not play loudly, but when she was done playing that catchy song, a voice rose nearby: “Don’t you have anything more recent?”
Lusseriel rolled her eyes at that and started another song, in Sindarin this time, about hope and new dawn and so on, and another voice joined hers.
Not loudly, but enough… And if anyone asked for a more recent song than this one, she’d go find Dealia to learn a song of the Shire, that’d be recent enough, whether or not they liked it.
Actually, she should do that sometimes soon anyway, that could be interesting to exchange songs.
