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

14

The twins weren't too put out that we'd been withholding Aglahad's true identity from them. Lofar was amused by the whole thing and his brother was proud that he had marked the boy as a noble from the very beginning. The revelation, however, made no difference to the way the Dwarves treated him. As we rode slowly north along the eastern bank of the Lhûn, Lóni tossed him an apple. Aglahad fumbled and snatched at it for a moment before it tumbled into his lap. The Dwarf threw his head back and guffawed.

I related almost everything that had happened in Mithlond. As we passed the map around, Aglahad pointed out one of its features.

"There are empty spaces everywhere. As though it is incomplete."

"Aye, and none of the chambers are marked."

I explained that there were lamp-runes on the map and that I'd tried to find a white calarivor in the city, that Raindis had told me that the nearest such lamps were housed in the three towers.

"And unfortunately for us," Lóni said, "all three of those are broken."

"What kind of game is this shape-shifter playing," said Lofar, almost to himself.

* * *

We approached the ferry at Thancathrad just before midday. The cool dawn mist had lifted and the morning had become bright and hot. The Lhûn gradually narrowed as we neared the mouth of the Uial. Here, the road ran close beside her green, sluggish waters; beyond lay the country I not visited for many centuries. Eastern Lindon was largely farmland. The arable land we had seen at the start of our day's ride now gave way to flat, open pasture. Herds of brown cows drifted like clouds across the plain. And in the far distance, a soft white line of cloud along the blue horizon marked our destination.

The road dipped down to the riverbank towards a small boathouse and a landing where a ferryboat sat low in the water, moored by a haul-rope. Starlings flitted noisily, nervously between the branches of the alder trees.

As we approached the landing, the ferryman emerged from the boathouse. He placed a wide-brimmed straw hat over his silver hair, no doubt to protect his pale skin. From his aspect and bearing, I surmised that he was from Forlindon, although I had never come across him before. He grasped his belt with both hands and gave a little nod as we approached.

"Suilaid," he called out. "Mae govannen." We returned the pleasantry and he took Finduilas's reins as we dismounted. "A fine day for a crossing, to be sure."

We did not comment.

"No rain for weeks now."

The Dwarves led their new mounts onto the landing. They were the smallest Harlindon Trotters they could find but they were still taller than their Erebor ponies.

"I would ask you for payment in advance," said the ferryman, "if it please you. A mere silver penny."

"One silver penny?" complained Lofar. "I could buy half a pony for that."

"But half a pony, master Dwarf, would not cross the Blue River as well as my ferry."

Lofar followed his brother, grumbling towards the bow. After tethering Losnoron, I joined the Dwarves and we huddled together. A stiff breeze was blowing across the river from the mountains. To the south, the sunlight flickered and flashed on the water.

The ferryman cast off and made his way across to the haul-rope, talking to himself all the while. "Gaerion is my name. If you would like to know."

"I would not much like to know," mumbled Lóni.

"Where are you heading?"

"To the other side," answered Aglahad and gave Lóni a wry smile.

The haul-rope bowed as the river pulled the ferry downstream. Despite the cool breeze, Gaerion started to sweat under his hat.