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

15

We made camp in a small dell at the south end of the isle. It was shelter from the wind and from prying eyes but we agreed to take turns keeping watch through the night. Finduilas embellished the idea by suggesting that two lookouts should be set, at which, there were more suspicious looks from the Dwarves.

After a short debate about the merits of lighting a fire, Lofar made a firm decision for the rest of us. "I would rather not eat raw fish, if it's all the same to you."

His brother puffed his pipe and nodded in agreement. Finduilas and I voiced our concerns over a fire without addressing the issue that undoubtedly plagued all our minds. I knew we would have to hold counsel before we went any further as a fellowship.

Aglahad seemed to have taken the day's events in his stride. He had led Bronweg off the ferry and tethered her to a small tree with the other mounts. I had seen her calming influence over other horses before and they nuzzled and fussed with each other after their ordeal. I realised now that when I had seen Losnoron and the other mounts crowding together on the ferry, it wasn't around Finduilas but around Bronweg.

As the rest of us were taking stock of our weapons and supplies, Aglahad had wandered off along the riverbank. He'd returned after an hour or so from a deep pool upstream with a catch of a dozen or so trout and perch.

Now, I sat with the Ranger while the others pitched their canvasses. "Please, Finduilas. Allow me to –" I gestured towards the burn on her cheek. She nodded and I gently turned her face toward the moonlight.

"It is little more than a sunburn," she said.

"Perhaps, but it must be treated." I rummaged in my messenger bag for my phial of lissuin balm.

"I should be with my people," she said softly.

"Be assured, Círdan's cavalry will be riding into Annúminas as we speak."

"Perhaps Annúminas has already been taken."

I wasn't sure how to respond without repeating myself.

"It was as though he held glowing embers in his hand, Siriondil." I leaned back, staring. "Have you ever seen such a thing."

I drew close to her again and applied some of the balm to her forehead. "I have come across but a few a skin-changers in my life. Some of them practise dark arts. Please forgive me, Finduilas. I should have told you."

"You did not know the ferryman would burn me then turn into a fish."

I smiled and applied more balm.

"I knew since our first meeting that you are no mere healer." She gently took the phial from me and tended the burn herself.

"And I know now, Finduilas that you are no mere Ranger."

She looked at me with a knotted brow.

"The sword you carry. I have seen it before."

She glanced round at the others.

"You bear Calmegil, do you not?"

She stiffened up and thrust the phial towards me. "I am no thief, Siriondil."

"I meant nothing of the –"

"Calmegil is an heirloom of my family."

"I knew the man who first owned that sword. One Damrod of Fornost."

"Aye, Siriondil. I have heard the tales. Damrod the Wight-slayer."

"I can assure you the tales are true. Or perhaps my version is anyway."