Fateful Discovery

[GreyMantle]

Tales from GreyMantle's Journal [1993]

Episode II - Fateful Discovery

Scene I - The Lay of the Land

Llewyss set out from his hidden camp early in the morning of the second day to get acquainted with the area. He went back through the village to have a look around. Much of it was ordinary enough, but there were some strange buildings here and there, probably to accomodate the many strange citizens, which were even more in evidence now than in the Red Dragon Inn the night before.

He found his way to the market square, and poked around a bit, picking up some food for his evening meal. A wondrous variety of meat, fish, fowl, greens and fruits were displayed: a welcome change from trail rations! And the booths and shops provided anything imaginable. Most any service could be provided, he soon discovered.

<< Well, this be a most fair village, fer commerce. >> Llewyss strolled around, looking, and listening to the babble of strange tongues. Most prevalent was the Common Tongue, though occasionally he heard speech in what seemed similar to Elvish... and Dwarvish.

He bartered for a couple of apple-like fruits with a silver coin from his world, the short dwarf-like woman reluctantly accepting the trade, and found a shady spot to rest and watch the hubbub of the market. There was even more variety in garments among the citizens of this world, from simple wraps and robes to armor and shiny materials GreyMantle had never seen. So, too, did the weapons displayed range across the spectrum of defensive and offensive diversity.

As Llewyss sat taking his ease, he felt a vague sense of being watched, and casually scanned about the square. Trying to find the face of any observer was impossible in the throng, so he finished his snack, and dropped the cores into a pen containing a small flock of furry, sheep-like stock, and began to resume strolling around the perimeter of the market, this time scanning about for "interested" faces instead of interesting merchandise.

He pretended to stop and examine things, while furtively looking around, especially behind him. He came upon a stall where some highly polished utensils hung, and was able to check behind him in their reflecting surfaces. He finally caught a glimpse of a dark clad, dark-faced figure lurking a dozen yards to his rear. The image triggered something in his memory, and he could not help but turn around to look. The stalker ducked along a cross aisle, and vanished. GreyMantle quickly moved down a parallel aisle in the same direction the dark one had taken, looking down each aisle he crossed. He reached the perimeter of the square and turned toward the aisle where the stalker had been last seen. As he ducked around a hulking laborer with a sack on his shoulder, he found himself face-to-face with the dark-caped skulker. They stared at each other a moment, and his eyes moved from Llewyss' face to the star clasp at the Ranger's throat. The man bore a device pinned to his tunic - a strange symbol that Llewyss knew now he had seen before coming to Rhydin. A similar device had been discovered clinched in the cold, dead fist of a slain traveler, on the High Road to Edoras. As GreyMantle reached out to seize hold of his cloak, he turned and nimbly darted down a nearby alleyway. When Llewyss reached the alley, after having to dodge others, it was empty.

Swearing beneath his breath, he followed at a walk, pondering the encounter. Was it proof that the appearance of dark strangers in Middle-earth could now be traced to this strange world of Rhydin? Could my encounter be just coincidence? Did they pass through the same portal that had brought me here? He now must try to find this swarthy man, or others of his ilk, and discover what he might.

Llewyss wandered around the rest of the day, thinking, watching, and remembering.

[GreyMantle]

Episode II - Fateful Discovery

Scene II - The Vigil

As GreyMantle sat by the fire in his secluded glade, he wondered at the workings of Fate that had sent him through the portal connecting my world and Rhydin, and then practically placed in his hands one of the members of the very group of evil men who were seen of late in Middle-earth. He could not but help feeling that Something had guided his feet along the paths he had trod in recent days. How else explain such coincidence? On the morrow, he decided, he would again keep watch in the Village for sign of their presence. This time he would be the stalker, and they his prey.

+ + + +

Llewyss stood in a shadowed corner of the Village marketplace, observing the ebb and flow of the crowd passing through one of the entrances to the square. It was impossible to watch all paths, obviously, but most of the traffic seemed to use this one. The Sun was at zenith when he finally stood and stretched, deciding to
abandon his vigil for something cool and wet. He thought of the Red Dragon Inn's fine dark ale, and made his way through the streets of the Village with anticipation. The Inn was not far from the marketplace, and he rationalized that his quarry could show up there. Thirst is universal, he mused philosophically.

+ + + +

GreyMantle took his usual seat in a corner of the Inn, and chugged several swallows of the ale he had been served by a pretty bartendress with coppery tresses. Everyone called her Dansr. He sat and studied his journal entries made since his arrival here in Rhydin, and tried to remember what he could of all that he knew of the "Swarthy Men", as he had come to call them, who had been seen in Middle-earth the last year. Llewyss conceded that racial resemblances can be coincidental, especially given the universal "melting-pot" nature of this
strange world, but the insignia on the tunic of the man in the market crowd was unmistakable. He had to be of the same party of intruders reported in Anorien, around the Druadan Forest. The survivors of several attacks along the road between Minas Tirith and Edoras were adamant in their descriptions.

So, he sat and waited and sipped his ale. His patience was to be soon rewarded.