Tales from GreyMantle's Journal
EPISODE I - Into the World Of Rhydin
The Journey Begins
The summer Sun fell warm upon Llewyss' back, as he lazed by the River Ciril, in a peaceful vale. The past fortnight had been pleasant enough, with visits to the kin of his father, Olin; with old friends; and wandering the familiar paths of Lamedon. But he knew his holiday was about to come to an end, when he heard the approaching hoofbeats down-river.
He stood, stretching, and watched a gray-cloaked horseman canter up the river path. The glint of sunlight upon the star clasp at his shoulder revealed to Llewyss who he was, and whence he had come.
"Hail, Captain GreyMantle! Forgive this intrusion, but I bear word from the King!" The rider sketched a salute as he reined in.
"Wha' news then, Thalion?"
"Another errand-rider has gone missing along the West Road near Dr?adan Forest." The King's Ranger dismounted and led his steed to the river near where Llewyss stood. "He did not arrive at the way-station in Firien Wood, for a change of horse."
"... an' Elessar wishes me t' look inta th' matter." GreyMantle anticipated the rest of the message.
"Aye, Sir," Thalion smiled thinly. "He does - as soon as may be." The Ranger then handed Llewyss a small object: a cloak-fastening device with a curious symbol engraved upon it. "This was found clutched in the cold, dead fist of one of the victims near the Dr?adan attacks. Its like cannot be found or recognized by the wise men of Gondor."
"Aye, 'tis strange t' me as well," GreyMantle confessed as he studied the round fastening. "Verra well. Inform th' King tha' I shall be on m' way ere th' Sun sets this day."
~ ~ ~
Llewyss set out from the village of his birth, Calembel, on the River Ciril, to cross over the White Mountains at their nearest point to the North. Firien Wood lay just on the other side, but as it was a rugged climb up through the pass, he released his horse at the head of a narrow canyon, assured that the beast would find its way back to the stables at Calembel. Hoisting his pack, and taking staff in hand, he began the climb.
The journey over the mountains, though strenuous, went well enough - he'd passed this way a few times before - and he finally made his usual camp on a small plateau at the top of the pass. He gazed out over the vales and plains of Lamedon toward the South, while westward the red Sun began to settle for the evening. On the morrow he would descend into Firien Wood, and pick up a horse at the way station, on the Great West Road, which ran between
Minas Tirith and Edoras, in Rohan. A half-day's gallop East would find him at Dr?adan Forest. Llewyss lay on his blanket, gazing up at the friendly stars, idly thinking about the investigation assigned him, until sleep overtook him.
The dreams came, as they always did. Constantly changing vignettes of places and faces, familiar and strange. The kaleidoscope of images then faded into a darkness, out of which a figure appeared. Tall, robed in white. Llewyss' dream consciousness wondered who it might be. Perhaps a wizard of old? Then the apparition spoke:
"Man of Arda, greetings! You will soon venture upon a journey to a strange, far place. We have set you a task, which will become clear to you, anon. The future of Arda lies in your hands. You will see your duty."
Then the figure vanished.
As GreyMantle awoke the images and words faded away quickly, as dreams are wont to do. He gathered his blankets around him against the chill of the mountain heights, and rolled over. Just another strange dream?
~ ~ ~
At first light, he began his descent of the north slopes of the mountains. As the Sun found her zenith, GreyMantle finally reached the forest lying at their feet. He was entering the wood, when there suddenly came a resounding >WHOOMP<, and a sharp pressure smote his ears.
Lightning?
No. The weather was clear. Then he became aware of a heavy mist ahead of him through the trees. As he moved forward more cautiously, the mist got thicker, until he could hardly see his hand at arm's length. The woods were deathly quiet, and the air was suddenly bone chilling. Llewyss continued forward slowly, passing through an area where the mists glowed eerily, and he could feel a current of air flowing past him. He continued to follow the path,
and eventually the mists started to thin out, and he could see light from the open land ahead. And the warmth of the land returned.
Moving into the tree-dotted grassland at the edge of the forest, he stopped to get his bearings, and ponder the strange phenomenon he had just witnessed. It was a moment's passing before he realized something was amiss. He scanned the horizon to all points; the Mering Stream was no longer nigh; that silhouette of mountains far to the west was different.
GreyMantle turned and looked at the forest from which he had emerged. There was no longer any sign of the mists. The mountains at the southern edge of the forest loomed in unfamiliar peaks.
Llewyss was certain he had not strayed from the usual path. Even had he done so, that would not account for the unfamiliar landscape that now confronted him on all sides.
Then the memory of the dream came to him: "You will soon venture upon a journey to a strange, far place".
This was indeed very odd!
EPISODE I - Into the World Of Rhydin
The Journey Begins
The summer Sun fell warm upon Llewyss' back, as he lazed by the River Ciril, in a peaceful vale. The past fortnight had been pleasant enough, with visits to the kin of his father, Olin; with old friends; and wandering the familiar paths of Lamedon. But he knew his holiday was about to come to an end, when he heard the approaching hoofbeats down-river.
He stood, stretching, and watched a gray-cloaked horseman canter up the river path. The glint of sunlight upon the star clasp at his shoulder revealed to Llewyss who he was, and whence he had come.
"Hail, Captain GreyMantle! Forgive this intrusion, but I bear word from the King!" The rider sketched a salute as he reined in.
"Wha' news then, Thalion?"
"Another errand-rider has gone missing along the West Road near Dr?adan Forest." The King's Ranger dismounted and led his steed to the river near where Llewyss stood. "He did not arrive at the way-station in Firien Wood, for a change of horse."
"... an' Elessar wishes me t' look inta th' matter." GreyMantle anticipated the rest of the message.
"Aye, Sir," Thalion smiled thinly. "He does - as soon as may be." The Ranger then handed Llewyss a small object: a cloak-fastening device with a curious symbol engraved upon it. "This was found clutched in the cold, dead fist of one of the victims near the Dr?adan attacks. Its like cannot be found or recognized by the wise men of Gondor."
"Aye, 'tis strange t' me as well," GreyMantle confessed as he studied the round fastening. "Verra well. Inform th' King tha' I shall be on m' way ere th' Sun sets this day."
~ ~ ~
Llewyss set out from the village of his birth, Calembel, on the River Ciril, to cross over the White Mountains at their nearest point to the North. Firien Wood lay just on the other side, but as it was a rugged climb up through the pass, he released his horse at the head of a narrow canyon, assured that the beast would find its way back to the stables at Calembel. Hoisting his pack, and taking staff in hand, he began the climb.
The journey over the mountains, though strenuous, went well enough - he'd passed this way a few times before - and he finally made his usual camp on a small plateau at the top of the pass. He gazed out over the vales and plains of Lamedon toward the South, while westward the red Sun began to settle for the evening. On the morrow he would descend into Firien Wood, and pick up a horse at the way station, on the Great West Road, which ran between
Minas Tirith and Edoras, in Rohan. A half-day's gallop East would find him at Dr?adan Forest. Llewyss lay on his blanket, gazing up at the friendly stars, idly thinking about the investigation assigned him, until sleep overtook him.
The dreams came, as they always did. Constantly changing vignettes of places and faces, familiar and strange. The kaleidoscope of images then faded into a darkness, out of which a figure appeared. Tall, robed in white. Llewyss' dream consciousness wondered who it might be. Perhaps a wizard of old? Then the apparition spoke:
"Man of Arda, greetings! You will soon venture upon a journey to a strange, far place. We have set you a task, which will become clear to you, anon. The future of Arda lies in your hands. You will see your duty."
Then the figure vanished.
As GreyMantle awoke the images and words faded away quickly, as dreams are wont to do. He gathered his blankets around him against the chill of the mountain heights, and rolled over. Just another strange dream?
~ ~ ~
At first light, he began his descent of the north slopes of the mountains. As the Sun found her zenith, GreyMantle finally reached the forest lying at their feet. He was entering the wood, when there suddenly came a resounding >WHOOMP<, and a sharp pressure smote his ears.
Lightning?
No. The weather was clear. Then he became aware of a heavy mist ahead of him through the trees. As he moved forward more cautiously, the mist got thicker, until he could hardly see his hand at arm's length. The woods were deathly quiet, and the air was suddenly bone chilling. Llewyss continued forward slowly, passing through an area where the mists glowed eerily, and he could feel a current of air flowing past him. He continued to follow the path,
and eventually the mists started to thin out, and he could see light from the open land ahead. And the warmth of the land returned.
Moving into the tree-dotted grassland at the edge of the forest, he stopped to get his bearings, and ponder the strange phenomenon he had just witnessed. It was a moment's passing before he realized something was amiss. He scanned the horizon to all points; the Mering Stream was no longer nigh; that silhouette of mountains far to the west was different.
GreyMantle turned and looked at the forest from which he had emerged. There was no longer any sign of the mists. The mountains at the southern edge of the forest loomed in unfamiliar peaks.
Llewyss was certain he had not strayed from the usual path. Even had he done so, that would not account for the unfamiliar landscape that now confronted him on all sides.
Then the memory of the dream came to him: "You will soon venture upon a journey to a strange, far place".
This was indeed very odd!