When the war-bird flew out of sight, Findecáno jumped back to his feet as soon as he could, and ran from the Hill as if the Dark King himself were after him. He fled across the field, mattock in hand. Aerandir soon followed him, abandoning his shattered lantern. Lenwë and Dínendal rose up from the ground after the war-bird knocked them down, but Golradir had broken his leg in the fall; he had fallen hard, banging his knee in their cluttered equipment. His two companions caught themselves in their flight and took the time to carry their wounded kinsman down the Hill.
But they did not know where Findecáno and Aerandir had gone.
"Fly!" shouted Golradir, over his pain. "Fly now! Fly now! Escape the flying death!"
The three soon found themselves in a gully at the foot of the Hill. They all collapsed inside it, and Dínendal proceeded to tend to Golradir's wound, but they heard footsteps outside, and did not move. The footfalls sounded like rapid metal thuds in the soft earth. They seemed to grow louder and louder, but soon went silent; the runner had gone further and further from their hiding place.
A few minutes later, they felt rumbling coming up the far side of the Hill; something massive was climbing it. Then, they heard a loud trumpeting that stirred them all. At that moment, a wild Mûmak from out of the Forest was on the hill-top. The great beast was nearing their hollow.
All the while, Vyköl and the war-bird had just bypassed the northern pass of the Islands of Ormal, and were heading southwards, nearing the Black Screw. It was now noon, but the sky could not tell that at this time; a storm was brewing above them. They lowered their altitude to avoid the storm's wrath, when they heard a series of faint sounds from the Islands below. It sounded like a great drum, or a war-chant. They saw pillars of smoke rise slowly from the tree-lined shores of the centre of the archipelago. Vyköl bent over and hissed something unintelligible into the war-bird's ear-hole, and it descended even further. Vyköl then bent sideways on the war-bird's wingspan, sprang, and dropped down to the Island.
The northernmost extension of Mórenorë was still sixty leagues from the Island. The war-bird circled the patch of trees that Vyköl landed in. Vyköl climbed down from the tree-top, tilted his spiked head upwards and beckoned the war-bird to hide. Then the spiked monster moved further into the Island towards the sounds.
Meanwhile, Findecáno and Aerandir ran on through the fields, and caught sigh of a large village in the distance.
The people that dwelt there were ever vigilant of their surroundings. From afar, the Gong-horn filled the air with its dreadful blasting noises. They feared for the worst. The sentinels of the village looked out over the hills and saw a great dark mass move recklessly along the fields. A dark shadow passed over them minutes later, and they fled back to their folk, consumed by fear.
The folk of the village were known as the Swertings. They were Men of a dark skin color. Darker than the fair-skinned Men of the North. They were a proud people, albeit impaired in their range of technology.
This village housed five hundred Men and women, headed by a clan consisting of an elderly chieftain, his consorts, their five sons, and twin daughters. They dwelt in a spacious red house in the midst of the village.
The chieftain's younger brother also dwelt with them, along with his own children: three sons and a single daughter.
The village was a half a league in diameter, and was surrounded by a wall of sharpened poles planted within a trench. The dwellings were pavilions and tents of many sizes and hues. In the centre of the settlement was the clan's house. To the western side of the house was the marketplace, and to the East, the temple and inns could be found.
Beyond the outer barriers, Findecáno and Aerandir looked out upon the village. They marveled at the sight of it.
"Simply astonishing." said Findecáno. "An entire settlement of Men this far to the South."
When the war-bird had flown over the village earlier, the sentinels had fled from the outer barriers, so no one stopped the two Elves from taking the path into the village. They found a red cloak on the ground near the trench, and Aerandir donned it. It was the cloak of a village sentinel.
The walked on and came into the North-side of the village. They came along many pavilions, ignoring the peering eyes. The Elves sought refuge from those in charge of the village. They were stopped suddenly, by another sentinel as they neared the red house.
The sight of the sentinel astonished the Elves. His dark skin, polished wooden mask, and red robe gleamed brightly in the sunlight.
Findecáno attempted to speak to the sentinel, but he could not comprehend his reply. Several people, exiting their dwellings, surrounded the two Elves, and muttered things in their native tongue to each other that were unintelligible.
It was not until the sentinel gestured the two Elves towards the red house that they were able to escape the crowd. The crowd parted at the sentinel's whim, and retreated back into their tents. The Elves were marched into the red house and brought before the chieftain. The Chieftain was thin, and had a short white beard. He had a broad red scepter damasked with serpentine shapes along its edges. He was clad in red robes and a violet cloak. He stood under an open light shaft in the house.
"Welcome, strangers." said the chieftain in perfect Westron.
"You can speak the Common tongue?" asked Aerandir, also in Westron.
"Indeed. Yes, I can." said the Swerting chieftain, smiling. "Now what is your business here, friends?"
"We were seeking refuge from the War in the North." said Findecáno in Westron.
"But it seems trouble followed, or found, us." added Aerandir.
The door burst open, and two sentinels rushed in. In their tongues, they announced tidings to the chieftain: The Gongs of the Suza Sumar were infuriated by something, and that they were hunting the lands for it.
"They will search our village, come sunset!" One of them said.
"Rally the watchmen!" replied the chieftain. "Retain vigilance, for we shall not go blind in the night!
"My friends!" he said in Westron to the Elves. "The monsters of the jungle will be here in as the sun fails. I advise you flee."
"We cannot!" replied Findecáno. "We have unleashed a terrible burden upon you already."
He removed the casing that held the darkened jewel, and held it aloft. The chieftain walked up to him, and stared at the jewel. He seemed puzzled by it, but shook his head, grimly.
"It is a sad day for us all." said he.
"But we must not despair!" said Aerandir. "We could hold the village. We cannot leave your people to fall prey to the creatures of the Forest."
"Indeed, you shall not." said the Swerting. "But you may rest here for the day. The guards shall keep watch over the village. My folk shall assist you…when the time is right."