Letter to Furley



 The letter is sealed tightly in an envelope that has been slightly bent and worn from travel. On the back is scrawled in perfect Westron; 

To Furley; 8 Long Street, Wyrmlin, Bree-land.

When opened,  the envelope exhales a sulfurous scent, but it dissipates quickly once it reaches the open air. When opened, the paper first reads as seen below;

“The contents of this letter are for only the officers of the Company of the East Road; Master Furley, Lady Deorla, Commander Altheric, Sergeant Kildwin, Lady Daphne, and Lady Anastasiar.”

Upon unfolding the paper, one would find at least two sheets of parchment folded into the envelope, being the entirety of the letter.

 


 

 To the officers of the Company of the East Road;

I am writing to you from the town of Aughaire; it is a town just through the pass of Ram Dúath from the North Downs. I do not expect this letter to reach you for a week, if not even longer than that. This will be the last correspondence that I am able to send for many weeks, I am sure, so I will try to detail everything that has happened as accurately as I can. 

Furley, after I stopped you and debriefed you on our hunt in the Lone-Lands and the rescuing of Ioranir, that same evening was I invited by Ioranir to join him in heading north. You had asked me to reach out to my companions in Evendim, so I, along with Ithilwe and Celossiel, mounted our horses and set off for Evendim.

Our journey there was mostly uneventful; we took the path through the Shire, as Fornost is too dark and ill-boding a place for us to venture. We rested in Bree and once in Hobbiton, and again in the Brockenborings before we pressed further northward. Oatbarton was as receptive to visitors as ever, but we did not linger long in Dwaling. Instead of taking the mountain pass to Annuminas, we rode along the Barandalf and the Brandywine River to the High King’s Crossing. We rested there, beneath the shadow of the statue. While there, Ioranir expressed to us his intention to go further north to Forochel. With that in mind, I mentioned that Ost Forod would be our next stop - I could double back on our return to Tinnudir. I did not realize at the time how grave an error this would be.

Ithilwe and I parted briefly from Celossiel and Ioranir to wash off in the river, and when we returned, we found them gone entirely. Amidst our panic (I have never dressed so quickly in all my years) and our mounting up, Master Dalbran and Hir Galtharian stumbled upon us. Concerned as we were, they joined up with us without so much a complaint, and we made for Ost Forod. We arrived at sunset. I searched the town and spoke with the locals, but they had not seen them come through. I reported this back to the others, and before I could stop him, Dalbran marched off with a hammer in hand…

 

Armed with our new information, we set off down the eastern exit of Ost Forod, which would ultimately take us north to Forochel. It was a long trail, and we spent a long, cold night camping at Cirith Rhíw, just inside the northern lands. We broke camp just after dawn and walked our mounts along the trail to Kauppa-kohta. I am briefly familiar with the Lossoth and their tongue, but even I have not traveled past the Jä-Kuru, save once. Ioranir was set for Súri-Kylä, so I only had to hope we had not fallen too far behind.

My hopes were proven true when we found Celossiel and Ioranir resting in Kauppa-kohta, as if honored guests (seeing as Ioranir was known amongst the Lossoth, they likely were). Our reunion was harsh and marked by flared tempers and only after a long argument was everyone on the same page; we continue through Forochel together, or not at all. If this Domdrudis and Guruthos were hunting Ioranir, then they would face our fury, too.

The journey through Forochel was long, and cold, and could not have been accomplished without Ioranir as our guide. Even if one had a map, the endless frozen landscape of snow and ice would have proved too daunting and too easy to lose oneself in. Not to mention the cold; were it not for his experience, we likely all would have frozen to death.

 

When we arrived in Súri-Kylä, we arrived at the scene of a massacre. I shall spare you the gory details of what we saw, but in all my many years, I have rarely seen such gruesome and careless slaughter. There was not a single villager left alive. The bones of the children were on display. There was a woman strung up at the entrance of the village; from what little I know of the Lossoth tongue, I could only translate one word from Ioranir’s wails - Aita, aita! Which is to mean mother.

As we walked through the camp, the same scene of disaster greeted us everywhere. Corpses were strewn about haphazardly, and most of the tents had been burned to ash. It was impossible to estimate when the attack had occurred, as the snow froze much of the decomposition. Only one building was truly left standing, and it was the main hall of Súri-Kylä. The others went in, but I remained outside to guard and to continue investigating. It was only a few moments before Ithilwe joined me outside, though he would not speak of what he saw, and stayed firmly by the door.

I noticed that some of the bodies were not Lossoth villagers; rather, they were Gauradan. This struck me as odd, as the Lossoth and the Gauradan are sworn enemies. There was a trail of Gauradan bodies that led from the stairs of the main hall down to the frozen banks of the bay. I followed the trail and saw in the distant waters a black ship that sported no sails or other identifying properties. Closer to my sight was an island suspended in the bay, and I saw the flames of a campfire, but the water was far too frigid for me to dare to cross, and I could not leave without warning the others. 

As I returned to the main hall, the others exited. We were all shaken up at this point, but Dalbran and Ioranir seemed specifically upset. It took the combined efforts of Celossiel, Ithilwe, and myself to convince him not to try to swim the icy waters to the ship himself.

While we were debating our next course of action (I had spied a dock nearby, and Celossiel wanted to come and investigate it with me), Ioranir spoke up. He told us that we should leave him and ride back to the Company to inform you and the others of what has occurred. On that note, expect the arrival of them soon. The others refused to leave him and chose to stay in Súri-Kylä and help him bury the dead. 

I, however, asked Ioranir if he had any knowledge of where those responsible would be going. It took some persuasion to get him to tell me, but he informed me that when he was a slave to them, they held him in Carn Dȗm, and that they were likely taking the pass over the Jä-rannit. I told him I would ride then after them. (No one truly wanted me to take this path, but it has to be done).

 

Furley, you remember, I am sure, of the plan we spoke of. I know we agreed that we should scout and spy first before sending someone on the inside to be at their mercy, but this is so much bigger than we thought. In Carn Dȗm, we dance upon the halls of the Witch-King. We tempt out his thralls, and we know not who this organization is or why they are tied so tightly to Angmar. Ioranir said that we could not attempt to launch an assault without truly knowing what we are up against, and so I will be going into their camp to find out. Realistically, I will be found and caught. That is also part of the plan. Only from the inside can I get the information we need. 

Ioranir knows the pass to take. There is one other who knows of my location - Cedmon Windseeker, an elf with whom Deorla is familiar. He will be taking me to Carn Dȗm, but does not know the details of my plan. If you seek him out, I will try to get any further messages to him, and perhaps he can bring to me those that you send in reply. 

I must behest of you that you do not tell any others where I have gone, even within the Company. Those who traveled with me to Forochel think I am going to do only reconnaissance. They do not know the extent to which I will be infiltrating, as I know they would not have let me go if they did. The fewer who know of this, the better. 

 

Your obedient foolhardy servant, Amathlan.

 


Author’s note/disclaimer to my lovely kin members who have joined me thus far: Sometimes, when roleplaying, the “suspension of disbelief” (or the intentional avoidance of logical reasoning for the sake of enjoyment) can come into play when considering the timeline of things happening. The journey of Amathlan, Ithilwe, Celossiel and Ioranir (joined later by Dalbran and Galtharian) from Bree to Forochel is something that realistically would have taken several weeks, rather than the three or four days we wrote it. And when a group roleplaying the same story splits up, it can be hard to understand what timeline everyone is roleplaying in. Amathlan parted from the others in Forochel and went to Aughaire in Angmar. That is a feat that would, again, have taken at least a fortnight rather than the twenty minutes it took me to get there. With that in mind, the entry you have just read is as a letter to Furley, detailing the events that took place from their departure from Bree to Amathlan’s arrival in Aughaire. The reason I present it in this manner is so that those who are reading along on the Archives still get the same information, but those who are actively roleplaying it now get to decide when they would like to receive the letter and act upon the information inside. Right away? Go for it! Wait a few days before discussing the content? Your choice! 

(Also if you read this huge disclaimer: I love you, I know it’s an information dump. <3)