Galador at the Inn

Galador was restless staying here. The air was stale indoors and he moved to the window of his room to open it. The stench in the air of the city street outside provided little relief to the stuffy confines of the room, mingling with the smells of tobacco smoke, ale and bad food to create an even more revolting scent.

Galador heaved a sigh. How long before they would be free of this place and back out into the countryside? There he would feel at home with the wind in his face and nature all around. His thoughts wandered to Lauralyn and the glade in the forest where she lived. He heaved another, longer sigh.....

My kingdom for a song

The dulcet tones of Landroval Eldanar had just faded as the sound of a few coins could be heard being added to a hat. As the young bard leaned over to collect his bounty a large booted foot stepped towards his fingers pulling back the coins in the hat. "Ho, ho young fop you don't think to come play in my Inn and not pay your tab did you?"

Flipping the only copper he was left with the poet smiled for he had seen some real interest in his story of the Eladanar's tonight and had actually not had to run up his tab in the process....a most wonderful success in his opinion....there was the matter of his benefactors however....

Two serious looking Dunedain and a red-bearded Dwarf wanted to speak to him of his songs.

"Ah, my friends, I see you enjoyed my song....alas my throat is dry."

Staring balefully Landroval finished the ale that the armored Dunedain...Brac...had just bought him much to the the chagrin of the Dwarf.

Having no further patience for the back and forth conversation and niceties the Bard, Ranger, and Knight were exchanging Hagrim finally slapped the table..."enough talk! Listen you fop are you of the Eldanar clan or is me friend here wasting his time."

"Yes, my height challenged friend, I am the seventh son...lover, poet, friend to all and performer of the dulcet tones you enjoyed this evening."

It was only after many more ale with Hagrim and Galador helping Brac and Landroval into the common room that Landroval agreed to talk to his father on their behalf. Landroval recognized the gift horse he was looking in the muzzle but still was reluctant....prooving that he was worthy to his father and restoring some honour to the Eldanar name was a noble cause....it was a step he was not sure he was willing to take yet.

Landroval Eldanar

Landroval Eldanar had heard the tales of his great, great grandfather’s family having to flee Castle Eldanar many times from his father Tarcandil. The shame that his father faced at having to now live in Fornost was matched only by his disappointment in his youngest and carefree son who wiled away his time singing and talking of yesteryear. Landroval had actually put the Eldanar tale to a clever song he played on his lute on his frequent forays about Fornost and the Northern Realms. Unlike his father our happy-go lucky bard did not wallow in the past but revelled in the adventures of the future and the possibility that the Eldanar name could be called upon with pride rather than pity. Despite those lofty thoughts, it was sometimes necessary to resort to a light-fingered touch in order to pay his way. Travelling throughout the North as Poet, Lover, and friend to all the Bard fights “work” and “duty” with song and laughter.

Fornost Erain, Norbury of the Kings

Located on a steep rise on the southern slopes of the North Downs, Fornost is as much a fortress as it is a city. Fornost was chosen to be the royal seat of Arthedain after the sack of Annúminas in T.A. 1409. Since then, a somber mood has permeated every aspect of life in court, for the Dúnedain stand ever ready to meet another assult by the Witch-king. Despite, or perhaps because of, the omnipresent threat from Angmar, the people of Arthedain are a spiritual folk given over to introspection. The wisest scholars and greatest library of the Men of the North are to be found in Fornost.

The capital of Arthedain after the division of Arnor in T.A. 861, Fornost has long been the largest and busiest city north of Tharbad. The tin and lead deposits underlying this part of the North Downs drew Eriadorian and Dwarven miners here as early as S.A 1000. For obscure reasons, the Dwarves got no support for their claims from their kinfolk in Moria, and the Eriadorians drove them out after a series of minor wars. Much later, religious mystics from Númenor arrived and received permission to build an astronomical observatory on Fornaer (S. "Lament of the North;" coll. "Norland's Glower"), the highest crest of the downs around the headwaters of the Nen Erain, the most important local river. Númenórean power kept the peace locally, and the Eriadorians got used to the idea of their leadership. Around S.A. 3250, a Sauronic minion used the mystical lenses of the observatory on Fornaer to summon an elrog (S. "star-demon"). It ravaged the countryside until slain by a Dúnadan mage, Calvellon Glornor. Calvellon was elected Lord of the Tyrn Fyrn by the grateful locals and eventually willed his domain to his nephew, Elendil of Andúnië, who later combined the title with several others when he made himself the first king of Arnor.

The actual name of "Fornost Erain" first appears in Elendil's original plans for the defense of Arnor against the Orcs of the Misty Mountains. He ordered a fortification, the "Citadel," built along the highest ridge of Norland's Glower, and added a series of defensive walls around the hill as local settlement moved, from the towns on either side in the valleys below, uphill towards the center of local power. Valandil, the first king of Arnor in the Third Age, built a palace within the citadel for use in the summer, to enable him to get away from the heat and biting insects that troubled his official capital at Annúminas. Over the centuries, Arnor's kings transferred more and more of their officials to Fornost, seeking the knowledge of the religious mystics dwelling in the area.

A little help and some Whine

September , 1640

Morkar’s purple face says all the heroes need to know as the Captain storms up to them, “By some grace of the bloody gods you two have been granted leave yet again to chase after your brother, this time without bounds. All I can say, is find him or your end quickly so I can know how to make up the duty roster.....fools errand I say!”

Brac and Galador decide that they should visit Brac’s friend Myrick. An elderly man of some skill in magic that might know more about Eldanar Castle and be able to help them in other ways. Loading up some supplies, Brac figures wine and parchment will be welcomed by Myrick who hasn’t seen the Knight in many years.

Travelling East for half a day sees the roads sparsely travelled for to head further this direction would be foolhardy as the Angmarian border with Orc raiding parties and untold other creatures are known to guard and make forays even as far as Myricks run-down castle on the borderlands.

Myrick greets them at the door as if expecting them reaching into the saddlebags without prompting for the red Shire wines stowed carefully therin. “Come, Brac and yon woodsman friend and let us share a cup or two before you ply my aid”.

Myrick tells Brac and Galador that the help they need will be more than just maps and directions for even the steeds of the elves Nimros and Rochallor may not be enough to get the two into Eldanar castle quickly or quietly enough. As Myrick stares into the fire he breaks out his pipe tapping it smartly on the side of the hearth. “What you seek, I cannot provide my friends but I can help in some small ways none the less....a ruin in the forest east of here may provide us both with some needed help. In those ancient Edain ruins you may find a fungi of the deepest purple. Find it I say and you may find you have found yourself some help....or some trouble as well.....ware thee well for the watchtowers to the east can see through to the forest and Orc patrols are known to be found near those cursed woods.” Reach above the fireplace, the old man brings down a dusty scabbard with a sword still hidden inside, “This may help you, it is Numenorian and has slayed many an Orc in its day...or so I am told. Castle Eldanar was at one time a gift from Elindil you realise...it is a stronghold now for the Angmarian servants much to the chagrin and humility of the Eldanar family who lives in shame in Fornost....yes they may help you was well...seek them out and...yes....bring me the mushrooms...and stay off the roads”. While cryptic Brac and Galador have many questions for Myrick who tells them the story of Castle Eladanar in detail but is of little further help.

Brac waited on his horse as Galador gently rubbed the ears of his mount while talking to it as though it were to talk back when the slap of a meaty palm on cold steel had Brac turning quickly. The fire-red beard of the Dwarf was braided as if for battle...”Ya weren’t thinkin of goin off on some adventure without me now were ya?”

Galador smiled as the complaints from the Dwarf riding behind him continued non-stop...”Ya mean to tell me this foul beast below me and your back are all I’m to see all the way to Fornost...by Durin’s beard the trials that must be endured....Have I told you of how sore me arse is?”

The Boy cant handle his Ale to be sure!

September 19, 1640
• The pounding in Brac’s head is all that remains of the heady drink shared with the King’s advisor Lord Talisien.
• Brac attempts to ditch his guard duty given he is tired and suffering the ill effects of the fine wines...but Captain Morkar has seen his share of loafers and recognizes the best duty for this would-be hero is to pound the drum at the head of the few recruits who are also in need of some marching. The hills surrounding Castle Hyareth prove quite adequate in getting our Knight’s attention.
• Lauging uproariously at Brac’s final days of marching, Galador and Brac put the finishing touches on a missive to Brac’s father imploring him to intervene on their behalf in order to get the time to pursue some help in their quest to rescue Ceradon from Castle Eldanar.
• Galador knows of other places he might get some help and information and smiles as he enters the smithy of Hagrim Durnst noting the new Dwarven curses floating through the air along with the faint smell of burnt hair.
• Dragging Brac by the feet to a cot, Hagrim shakes the fire-red beard that is the signature of his clan at Galador “Boy, couldn’t handle his Ale, it’s a wonder ya dunt need me help.”
• Galador talks to Hagrim late into the night with only brief interruptions from the snoring Knight.

The Hero's of Fort Brattar

September 16, 1640


• Brac and Galador decide to leave Fort Brattar as Brac has only 2 days to return to his duties at Castle Hymenarth before being branded AWOL. Captain Morkar of the castle garrison is one that is not to be trifled with.
• Brac realizes that he did not find his brother, but at least he knows where he has been taken.
• Leave Fort Brattar with one heck of a headache. The exploits of the Heroes of Fort Brattar and the exceptional bravery are being noticed by the Rangers....A message is sent to watch the two rogue heroes as there may be untapped potential that can be called upon in a time of the most dire need.

September 17, 1640

• Arrive at Castle Bargad, the home of Lord Taliesin, a friend of Brac's father.
• Learn from Lord Taliesin that Eldanar Castle is located in “no-man's” land between Angmar and Arthedain.
• Sitting around the fire with some excellent wine and food the heroes recount their tale to the delight of Lord Taliesin and his family.
• Unbeknownst to Galador a travelling stranger who has asked for and received hospitality from Lord Talisien has taken a keen interest in Galador's story of Lorilynn.

September 18, 1640
• Leave Castle Bargad.
• Our heroes push their horses as they have leagues to travel and must arrive today.
• Our heroes make it to Castle Hymenarth with no time to spare, but Brac's horse comes up lame.
• Galador attempts and succeeds in healing the mare, although it will be two weeks before she can be ridden.

Captain Morkar notes the arrival of the Dunedain Knight and Ranger and smiles as a cat at a mouse hole knowing that the two will be sore and tired from a long trip....time to make them do some double duty...he he he.