Trump of Swords

As we travelled from Tarn toward the ruined castle of XXXXX, Dimfaroth put
away his disguise and travelled as Herengil, the descendent of Faenor, so that he
could gather support among the elves of the forest. He proved to be a
charismatic and persuasive leader, and as we approached XXXXX he had added
more than fifty elves and men to our group.

Herengil also knew that the Suit of Swords, led by the warrior Valcrist, also
approached the ruin, but not how near they were. At sundown we were within a
few miles and sent scouts to learn whether it was occupied. They returned,
saying that the ruin was empty, and that the Swords were camped fifteen miles
to the south. Herengil determined to march through the night, and so gain the
advantage of ground in case of battle. Advantage! Valcrist commands over a
hundred trained and hardened elven warriors, while we are less than seventy,
mostly woodsmen and farmers. I think that Valcrist cares not whether we have
the advantage, or whether we find the un-shining jewel before he. What he
wants from us, he will take.

The scouts also reported signs that several eagle riders had been in the ruin,
looking, no doubt, for the jewel. They must not have found it, since Valcrist still
approaches, but they may have left gifts for us, in case we reached the ruin
before Valcrist, as it appears we will. Aegdil and I are going ahead with two of
the fastest elven rangers to inspect and clear the ruin of unpleasant surprises.

I watched our latest brush with death from afar yesterday, with such conflicting
urges that I know that the sensible hobbit who left Bree so long ago is truly
dead.

Aegdil and I had found and cleared two traps, both quite old and certainly not
set by Valcrist's eagle riders. This fortress was once, thousands of years ago, a
mighty stronghold; we found magic still active and vital in an arch made to warn
the castle's lord of evil, and in a trap at the entrance to an underground
storehouse. Herengil and the rest of our party arrived just as we finished, and
Aegdil went to rest since we knew Valcrist would arrive in a few hours and we
would need his skills and senses sharp.

Meanwhile, the lady Sakalthoril used her spells and Kain used his hammer to
search for the jewel. They suspected that these methods would have been used
by the eagle riders, and so that they would reveal nothing, but they could not be
certain. We also searched the underground chambers with no success. Then
Herengil drew upon his knowledge of ancient history, remembering that
XXXXX had been ruined before the jewel had been stolen by the the Guild of
Elementals and hidden here. Sakalthoril directed her servants to begin searching
under the rubble, reasoning that to be a good hiding place. Kain and Herengil
determined to search the castle well.

The well was inhabited by a large snake, but not so large as to be immune to
elven arrows. Once it was killed and hauled out, weighted lines showed the
water to be over twenty feet deep. After much debate, the lady Sakalthoril cast a
spell upon me that allowed me to hold my breath for several minutes. Then
Herengil and Kain lowered me into the well on a rope, like so much bait, and to
the bottom of the water.

The water was icy cold, and it began biting into my hands and feet immediately.
Even though it was murky with debris and sediment, the nature of which I
would prefer not to contemplate, the water could not have been simply a
stagnant pool of seepage. The bottom of the well was covered with many inches
of accumulated filth, both the discard and excrement of the serpent, and when I
began reaching through it to search the bottom not even the glowing stone I held
in my hand could penetrate the murk that billowed up. It mattered little, since
the bottom of the well was almost at the furthest extent of my fingers, and I
couldn't see what dangers I was blindly groping through the muck.

It was a strange sensation, holding my lungs still for such a long time. Instead of
my body insisting to my mind that it must breathe, my mind continuously
worried that my body was not breathing while my lungs remained as
comfortable as if I was home in front of my fireplace with my pipe. (Home!)
After groping for several heartbeats, I grasped a narrow metal object. It was
slippery, but I finally managed to free it from the filth, finding in my hand an
ancient rusted sword hilt. I discarded it and continued searching.

After a longer time, so long that my lungs were finally beginning to make
preparations to work, I touched another metal object. It was larger, and had
raised figures on its surface. I made sure of its position, in case I had to leave it
abruptly, and began digging for it. I had to stretch my small arms to their limit,
and the sediment clutched at it as if reluctant to give it up. My fingers had begun
to cramp painfully from the cold and I was unsure that I could maintain my grip,
but I eventually clasped it to my chest and gave the signal for those above to lift
me out of the well.

As I dried and warmed myself, Kain cleaned the object I had recovered. It was a
small chest, and as the mud and slime was removed it revealed precious mithril
inlaid with ivory. Once I had recovered, I donned the spectacles that we had
taken from the body of the assassin Valglen and looked into the box.
Alas! Nothing but several jewels and a vial. Nothing that could be the un-
shining jewel. We had wasted precious time recovering treasure that, in other
circumstances, could assure me of comfortable living for the rest of my life back
in the Shire, but was here worthless. This strange inversion of value makes me
feel even further away from who I was.

As I donned my clothing again, and the mage, Herengil, and Kain discussed how
to proceed with the search, one of the mage's servants approached carrying a box
of a heavy, dull-surfaced metal. At once we knew why magical scrying had not
detected its presence.

As the servant explained where it was found, under a pile of rubble that
somehow looked newer than the surroundings, I examined the box. The lock,
indeed the entire chest, was intact and cunningly made. After carefully opening
the lock, I found a subtle trap, a reservoir of presumably poisonous gas, barring
the way. Thinking that perhaps I could better understand the working of the trap,
I made the mistake of attempting to view it with the spectacles.

Upon casting my gaze upon the box, my head was filled with shooting pain. I
instantly closed my eyes and looked away, but even in that fleeting moment the
power of the spectacles was reflected from the leaden box and back into me,
causing me such pain that I could neither see nor move normally for several
minutes. As I lay recovering, we discussed how to proceed. Since our need to
confirm that we had the jewel was great, and my pain lessened with each
passing minute, we determined to wait until I felt able and try to open the box.
Herengil cast a magic upon me that he said would protect me from any
poisonous gas, and I set to work. I know not how, since my fingers were shaking
and my vision was still wavering, but when I swung the lid of the box open
nothing happened.

That is, the trap was not discharged. Something did happen, something that
everyone nearby, and for all I know, all over Middle Earth, saw. The sun,
blazing brightly just before its zenith, dimmed. It was as if a curtain were pulled
across a window, and as I looked up I was afraid I would see the sun's disk being
eaten away in another, perhaps the final, eclipse. I got only a glimpse of the
contents before I slammed the lid shut again, but that was more than enough. It
was the size of my fist, and so black that it seemed it was not really there, as if it
were a hole bored from the bottom of the box into infinity. I'm sure that if I had
looked at it any longer, it would have sucked my very soul out through my eyes
and down into its inky depths.

We agreed that I would keep the box, and Sakalthoril hid me again. We knew
that all around us knew that the jewel was found, but we hoped that the magical
protection around me would keep it from being found again. Kain and I looked
wordlessly at each other, knowing that we could still be defeated. As I fingered
the aog dagger, he knew that if Valcrist won the day, I would not allow the jewel
to fall into his hands.

The Suit of Swords arrived at about mid-afternoon, and encamped out of

bowshot of the fortress wall. Valcrist's emissary approached, and he and
Herengil agreed that they would erect a pavilion on the field, in the open
between our two forces, and that Herengil and Valcrist would dine together.
Herengil believed that he could win Valcrist's loyalty, and so avoid the need to
shed his blood. I thought the former was unlikely, and the latter not the worst of
our worries.

I remained hidden as the preparations were made, taking no chance that the one
real advantage we had, possession of the jewel, would be lost. What I write here
of this night is from the accounts of the survivors.

Sakalthoril, Eóthere, and Aegdil oversaw the erection of the pavilion along with
Valcrist's mages and men-at-arms, each side careful but respectful. Aegdil noted
the presence of six invisible figures standing near the pavilion, and mentioned
them to Herengil. Valcrist said to Herengil that he need not fear them, since they
would only act in case of treachery. He was correct, but he didn't then know
whose treachery it would be.

The beginning of the meal was courteous and even pleasant, the opponents
having respect and in some cases admiration of each other. The Suit of Swords,
and especially Valcrist, had reputations for personal honor, and Herengil was
gambling that that honor could be used to turn him away from Ardana and the
Arden Council. Herengil argued that to assist Ardana was to betray Valcrist's
original leige lord, Faenor, and to assist in the return of He Who Is Not Named
to Middle Earth. Valcrist disbelieved that Ardana would cause His return, and so
they stood when Herengil asked that the rest of their parties be dismissed so that
he could speak with Valcrist alone, and Valcrist consented.

What passed between them then I can only guess, since the pavilion was
protected from evesdropping, and Herengil will not say. Having learned some of
what these warriors call honor, I know that Valcrist would only break his oath of
fealty to Ardana if she had broken hers to him first. If Herengil revealed the
nature of Ardana's relationship with the Dark One, proving that she had lied to
Valcrist, perhaps Valcrist could find reason to break with her. Whatever passed
between them, the events about to happen would convince Valcrist better than
any words.

Herengil paced the pavilion, as he is wont to do when wrestling with a problem,

and as he turned to face Valcrist for another volley of discourse he saw a cold
shadow materialize behind him and raise a dagger to strike at his back. With all
too much familiarity with the Assassins of the Wind, he reacted almost instantly,
stepping into the path of the shadow, pushing Valcrist aside and drawing Ringil.
Startled, Valcrist turned and drew his sword in time to see the assassin strike.
The dagger jammed in Herengil's mail, and in my mind's eye I can see the smile
on his face as Ringil sliced through the assassin, seeming to disperse it like so
much bad swamp gas.

As the first assassin was dispached, another appeared at Herengil's back.

Valcrist, prepared, struck and killed it before it had a chance to use its blade. It
was then that Valcrist began to realize that he was one of the assassins' targets.

Sitting on the fortress wall a few hundred yards away, my heart sank as I saw
and heard signs of fighting. I had hoped that Valcrist would honor the truce he
had set, but had expected trouble. I, and the jewel, were well away from it and
safe, but I wished that I could help my friends.

Outside, the retinue saw the flash of Ringil and heard the sounds of fighting. As
they made way to enter, though, they were blocked by two more
shadows. ??????, Valcrist's lieutenant, and ???????, the eleven knight of ??????,
fell almost immediately, victims of the vile poison on the assassins' blades.

Just as the last of the assassins vanished and the group thought that they had
survived, a wall of the pavilion vanished and the six elven warriors who had
stood invisibly by attacked. Leading them was a dark, shadowy shape that
Valcrist knew and that our party recognized from the magical deck as
Kambrogle, the evil priest of Tolkas.

Kambrogle attacked Valcrist immediately, as Herengil, Eóthere, and Kain

engaged the six eleven warriors. The fighting was fierce and none of them were
certain of victory, but Kain and Herengil killed two of the elven traitors and the
battle began to swing. As Kambrogle saw this, and as Valcrist began to press his
defenses, darkness suddenly filled the pavilion. Herengil banished it almost
immediately, but even that short distraction was enough to give Kambrogle a
head start in his flight. As Valcrist pursued Kambrogle across the field, shouting
for his men to intercept him and knowing they were too far away to succeed,
Herengil, Eóthere, and Kain took advantage of the traitors confusion and
abandonment to dispatch them. As the fighting started, rest of our party had
started running toward the pavilion. Phærmathon was the fastest, and arrived in
time to see Kambrogle in flight. With a great burst of speed, he overtook the
fleeing figure, who stopped and turned to meet him.

It was only a short fight, with Phærmathon hoplessly outmatched and hoping
only to delay Kambrogle long enough for Valcrist to arrive. He did not succeed,
for after a short exchange of barehanded blows in which they both grunted in
pain, Kambrogle struck him a deadly blow and he fell.

Kambrogle did not escape without further injury, however, because as the lady
Sakalthoril approached she saw Phærmathon fall. As Kambrogle turned to
continue his flight, she leveled the Staff of Flame and loosed its magic. Fire
blossomed in front of Kambrogle and engulfed him as he ran. He stumbled, and
howled in pain, but he didn't slow and he was soon lost in the night.

The price was indeed high, but the cause was won. Valcrist renounced Ardana
and swore allegiance to Herengil. So did Dimfaroth cease to be, for then the red-
haired elf turned entirely into a general. During the next day while the injured
were binding their wounds and recovering, Herengil, Valcrist, Kain, and the
surviving officers of Valcrist's company held war council. They determined to
attack and defeat Naurlindol, the stronghold of the Suit of Flame, to further
reduce Ardana's strength. Key to this plan was the knowledge of a secret
entrance to the fortress, an entrance known only to the Guild of Elementals and
not to the fortress's current occupants. Mirwen knows of the location, and will
guide us to its entrance. As is becoming usual, Aegdil and I will go ahead with
Mirwen and a soldier to scout the passage and how it connects to the belly of the
fortress while the rest of our force marches to [elven lord's] to gather more
swords and the arms to wield them.