Aglahad and the Dead City (In Tharbad: Volume Three)

3

Most of the Rangers melted back into the darkness of the wood as Finduilas led us along the road. We walked our horses while the few remaining Rangers took up the rear.

"Where are you heading?" she said.

"Lindon." It wasn't an outright lie. "Though I suppose we must ride to Bree to restock."

"Why would you suppose that?"

"Tharbad was in a state of ruin the last time I was here."

"Oh? And when was that?"

"A little over a century?"

"A lot can change in a hundred years, Siriondil. Especially in a place like Tharbad." She smiled. "You will find all the provisions you need here."

As we neared the Northgate, I noted how the walls had been rebuilt. I'd heard that the orcs of Moria had invaded Eriador just after I had left and that they had breached the walls and destroyed what was left of the city.

Finduilas explained that she had business elsewhere in the town and that she would meet us at an inn called The Broken Blade later. We walked through the gate and an ostler met us at the nearby stables.

"How is your cheek?" I said when I saw Aglahad's face under the lamplight.

"Nought but a scratch," he said. He dabbed the cut then showed me his fingertips. I watched him as he stroked his horse's neck. "Maelor, Bronweg," he murmured. He had grown fond of the horse over the last three years or so. But having been sired and reared in Rohan, I wasn't even sure if Bronweg understood Sindarin.

As we walked along what used to be called the Kingsway I noticed that much more of the outlying ruins had been given over to small plots: low earthen mounds around and on which grew wheat and vegetables. Elsewhere, goats and chickens and geese were held in small pens. The smell of manure pervaded the streets.

As we moved further into the city, the Kingsway became lined with timber-framed two- and three-storey houses, shops and taverns with thatched roofs. I was reminded of Bree and the other towns of Arthedain. Most of them had been built on the dark granite foundations of the ancient city.

I nodded to the few townsfolk we passed: mainly Haladin farmers and Arthedain Rangers and the odd Dwarf. Aglahad was gawping up at the buildings on either side as we passed up the main street.

"This is all new to you," I realised. We hadn't seen much of the city when first we passed through together.

"It is a strange place. Half-ruined, half-abandoned. How do they live here?"

"They live here because they must. Not everyone can live in gleaming white towers by the sea."

He gave me a strange look and I smiled at him. We walked across a marketplace towards the sign of The Broken Blade. I half-remembered the place being called The Seven Swords but perhaps that had been a few streets away.

Aglahad had insisted on wearing travelling clothes similar to those of the Rangers. He had started to draw stares from them as we neared the inn and I could sense that he was keen to change into something less conspicuous.

After settling into our chambers and a quick wash, I made my way down to the tap room. A fair Haladin maid greeted me and asked what my pleasure was while I found a seat in an alcove opposite a large window. I looked out onto the yard where a few lamps hung from the trees, shining green through a fine rain. It reminded me of the first time I came to Tharbad. But that was a different place in a different time.

I started as the maid brought me bread and cheese and a flagon of wine.

"Oh, I –"

But she was already gone, dissolved in the crowd. Ale was the strongest thing I drank in those days. I sniffed the flagon before half-filling my goblet. To my consternation, it was good wine.