Berethor if Gondor rode through the mists in the land of Eregion far from his home in the south. An eerie feeling permeated the air around him and no birds sang. Even the wind was completely still as though it feared that movement would insight the wrath of some great evil. Berethor looked around warily and reached for the long sword at his side. Suddenly, his mount took fright and began to whinny and reared back, its nostrils flared and eyes wide in terror. As the tall man from Gondor fought to master his steed, three figures materialized from the mists. Men they appeared to be, in black robes and riding black horses. Yet some malevolent presents accompanied them, causing even nature around them to shrink away from them. As they drew closer, Berethor was flung from his mount into the brush and the horse bolted into the mist in panic. That was the last time he saw the fine creature. Leaping up swiftly, Berethor drew his long sword as the three dark riders sat on there mounts, staring at him. A dark dread was attempting to overthrow his will, but Berethor was a man of great courage and he rallied, saying to the specters before him, "Stand by, creatures. You are in my way." The robed figures made a hissing noise that sounded like evil laughter and the lead rider replied, "It is not yet your time. Move aside or you will sleep with the worms tonight."
Berethor felt his will attacked again by the strange presents of the riders. As he held his ground, they dismounted and steel rang free as they drew long, pale blades. The sight of the evil weapons, naked in their hands caused Berethor's courage to nearly fail. Again he steeled his will and readied himself for the attack. One of the riders raised his hand and Berethor's blade shattered as though it were a brittle piece of wood, leaving him utterly defenseless. He began to back away, looking about desperately for anything to defend himself with. As he did, his heel caught a root and he stumbled and fell onto his back and the wind was driven from his lungs. The dark figures were on him them and one raised its sword for a fatal blow. But when the rider brought it down, another sword struck it and the blow went wide. Above Berethor stood an elven lady with a sword in here left hand and two stones in her right. "Be gone from this land, slave of Sauron." Again, the black figures hissed their malicious laughter and said, "This is not your affair, she-elf. Flee."
Her only reply was to raise her right hand. It held a watery blue stone and a translucent white stone. With a word of command her elven eyes glowed and the stones sent forth a torrent of water and light which struck the three figures. They shrieked as though in great pain and cowered back. With another word they were driven to their black mounts. As quickly as they could manage they clamored back onto their steeds and bolted, heading north ever deeper into Eriador. Berethor stared up at the elven lady. Her hair was honey colored and braided tightly behind her and she was tall and beautiful with and gentle and winning smile though her eyes were serious and almost sad. She proffered her hand and said, "Let me aide you, Gondorian. I am Idrial - servant of the Galadriel the Lady of Light." Berethor took her hand and she hoisted him up. He bowed low, saying unto her, "Thank you for your aide, my Lady. I am Berethor, a former captain of Gondor." And then he peered at her and asked, "Are you a fabled lore-master? I have heard stories of such elves though I thought that they had perished into legend." She smiled and replied, "I am a lore-master and the secrets of the elements are my mastery: earth, fire, air, water, light and shadow. But come let us go. We will go to an elven outpost to replace your supplies and weapon. You may need them on the road ahead."
Berethor nodded and followed her as she glided on silent feet into the woods of Eregion. As they walked, Berethor plied her with questions, "What brings a servant of the Lady of the Golden Wood west of the mountains?" "Elrond of Rivendale requested that I defend the caravans of our folk from Lorian to Rivendale, for the roads grow more and more perilous. I scouted ahead and sensed the evil of those riders."
"What were they? They seemed to know me though I have never seen them before. How can that be?" She replied in a low voice as though she feared the mentioning of such vile creatures, "They are three of the nine Nazgul, the deadliest of the Dark Lord's servants. As to how they know you, I know not."
Berethor was silent for a some time. As an ancient elven tower, all overgrown with vines and brush came into view, he asked her, "I am on a mission from Denethor, the Steward of Gondor to find his son, Boromir. Have you seen him in your travels over the mountains?" After a moment of silence, she shook her head saying, "Last I heard of Boromir, he had taken a horse from the land of Rohan and was traveling west and then north into these lands. But that was many days ago and I know not where he is now."
Berethor brooded on this. His quest was as recompense for fleeing from the city of Osgiliath when he and his fellow captains were charged with its defense. Finally they reached the tower and Idrial pulled the clear, white stone from her pouch and walked around the tower, saying a word of power at each side. When she spoke to the west wall, light from the stone revealed a hidden portal and they entered the tower. It appeared as though no time had passed inside for there was no dust or decay inside the tower. Berethor strode over to a rack of sheathed swords and drew one, admiring the steel and balance of the blade. "It is as though time does not effect this elven tower. I see that even the food is good. How can this be?" Idrial was filling too large packs with dried fruit and meat as well as flat bread made for long travel as she replied, "This tower was built by the elven artisans that dwelt in Eregion during the Second Age and the war between Sauron and the Last Alliance of men and elves. That blade was made by Numenorian smiths for the bane of the servants of the Dark Lord. Wards were placed over this tower to prevent decay, dust, insects and rust from destroying."
Berethor nodded and buckled on the sword. He also took a fresh coat of male and a cloak for his were both rusted and tattered from many months of travel. Idrial selected two more glowing stones, a earthy green one and an icy blue one from a glowing pedestal. As Berethor walked over to a hearth and began to set a fire he asked, "What are those stones? Do they hold power?" Idrial laid the sacks near to hand on a table and walked over to stand next to him. "They are elven stones. The power is within me to wield nature. The elven stones are simply the keys to unlock the power and the tool to direct it with." Berethor nodded. "How many are their?" She closed her eyes as if trying to remember. "I am not sure for some lore says this many and some says that many. At least there are six though I believe there are probably eleven: Water, Frost, Fire, Lightning, Air, Stone, Earth, Metal, Plant, Light and Shadow." As she answered, the fire roared to life. They were silent for a time. Then Berethor spoke, "I live only because of your bravery, my Lady. Allow me to escort you and your people to Rivendale, for there I am bound as well." She smiled and said, "I welcome it, Berethor of Gondor. We shall leave at first light and meet up with them tomorrow. The camp is four hours march from here."
They spent the night in the tower where the wind did not touch them and the fire kept them warm. Two hours before dawn, they left the elven tower and the portal closed behind them, showing a seamless wall. The two marched speedily for Idrial was light and swift on her feet and Berethor's long and powerful legs took great strides. They headed at an angle towards the road in order to meet the traveling elven company as they marched. They had marched for several hours when suddenly, Berethor knelt on the ground to examine something. With a curse, he straightened and said, "A large company of orcs have come by this way. They are heading the direction we are: north by west." Idrial was greatly dismayed. "That is the direction towards my people!"
Berethor placed his shield on his arm and loosened his sword as they broke into a run in direction of the path. Before long they heard the ringing of steel and the harsh cries of the orcs. With great savagery, the elf and the man fell upon the rear of the orcs who were attacking the small group of elven warriors valiantly defending the travelers. They cut down many orcs and caused confusion and dismay amongst them. The fowl creatures broke and fled even deeper into the darkness of the trees. Berethor and the elven defenders pursued them, slaying many in the forests and the ruins. An elven Lord with silver hair, garbed in bright male and a flowing green robe over it approached Idrial as he sheathed his blade. "Hail, Maiden of Lorian. So you have found the lost man of Gondor. Will you continue to guide him through the battles to come?" "Yes, Lord Mindore." she said. "He will need a friend on the long and difficult road he must take to the truth. Alone he would never be able to bare it."
As she said this, Berethor returned. Striding up to the tall elven Lord, the man of Gondor bowed low with his right hand on his breast and saying, "They will trouble you no more, my Lord." Mindore bowed himself, thanking him. "You have done a great service. How many of the orcs escaped?" "Not many. They are scattered in pairs or alone. Even if they found one another I doubt their number would reach two score." An elven bowmen clad in silver male and a red tunic ran up and said, "As we hunted the orcs, we have seen the tracks of many more and some wargs as well heading north. They are always within sight of the road and I fear that they plan an ambush of our people." Idrial looked to Berethor and said, "We should track them and try to drive them away from the road. If we can lower their numbers enough then they will no longer be a threat to my people." Berethor was about to reply when the elf scout cut in. "That is not all. We also found other sets of tracks that do not belong to orcs or wargs but four men and a dwarf. They passed by more recently and were pursuing the creatures swiftly." Berethor bade the elf show him the tracks. When they reached them, Berethor knelt and examined them with the practiced eye of a ranger of Ithilien who served under Faramir, brother to Boromir. The tracks were easy to read. They were heavily shod with iron shoes and the wargs were large, with long claws and heavy pads. Berethor straightened and examined a nearby body of an orc. Looking carefully, he noticed something strange. Idrial glided up beside him and peered at the body. "That sign - the white hand of Isengard; it is used by Saruman and his servants." Her face was grim and her eyes even angry. "The white wizard has betrayed us."
They returned to Lord Mindore who seemed every so slightly anxious about the discovery. Berethor explained his findings to the tall elf. "At least four score orcs and a score and four wargs traveled parallel to the road. They passed three hours before dawn and would have ambushed you save that they found the road too late and the sun was rising. My guess is that they ran ahead hoping to catch you unawares. It would seem that this company was brave enough to attack you during the day in the darker shadow of these thick pines. I believe that it saved you for you would have been destroyed by the larger force had you not been delayed for now it is an hour past noon. If you would heed my advice you will camp here tonight for when they discover that you are not coming, it will be to late and they will be too far ahead to attempt to come back and assail you." The silver-haired lord considered this. His people and warriors were weary from fear and fighting and Berethor's advice seemed both wise and appealing. After careful consideration, Mindore nodded saying, "This is well. Will you and Lady Idrial pursue the orcs tomorrow then in the light of day?" Berethor said it would be so. "They will probably have traveled back some ways towards you so as to be more ready in case you hang back. Be on your guard at all times, my Lord."
That night as he slept, Berethor had dreams of the battle of Osgiliath. His command was cut down to the last small handful of men who made the enemy pay dearly for the bridge that they took before fleeing further back into the city. When he saw that he could not hold, he blew the horn, calling for reinforcements but all that came was the call that told all to fall back through Osgiliath and over the fields of Pelenore to the outer walls. As he ran through the tumbled rubble of many once-grand buildings, he saw that he would soon be surrounded. Fear gripped his heart.
He jolted upright in a cold sweat and gasping for breath. A chill assailed his body though he lay quite close to the watch fire. An elf sentry slipped around and knelt, whispering, "Are you well, Man of Gondor?" Berethor took a few deep breaths and a large gulp from a nearby wine skin before answering with a half reassuring smile. "I am fine thank you, my good elf. Only a dream brought on by past battles." The elf nodded and looked at Berethor in a way that made him uncomfortable. "I wonder…" said the elf before standing back up and striding back into his position on the other side of the watch fire.
The next morning, several hours before dawn, Berethor and Idrial left the camp with good food given to them by the elves to add to there provision. For they expected the hunt to take several days at least. They moved silently through the green forests and old ruins of Eregion, fallowing the orc trail. It was not a difficult path for the orcs cut down any thicket and small sapling and brush that lay even remotely in there path, making a wide and easy trail not even fifty yards from the road. Though the trail at first began to become more and more fresh as they gained on the orc host. As the sun was mere minutes away from dropping below the horizon, the two trackers came upon an ambush sight that, had it been put to use, would have ended in disaster for the elven caravan only a few leagues behind. But it was empty and evidence of a struggle was found all throughout the area. Ten dead orcs and seven dead wargs lay where they had been lying in wait. As Berethor searched the surrounding area he realized by the confused and circling orc and warg tracks that the ambushers had themselves been ambushed, though by how many he could not tell. As he searched he found even more dead orcs and wargs. The orcs bore the same white hand on their armor and shields that those that attacked the elves had though the wargs were wild seemed only to be tagging along in hope of sweet meat to devour. After over an hour of searching, the two trackers returned to the path. "It would appear as though a small company attacked the foul creature that lay in wait. This is good for the elves would have been along just as the sun was falling. Though whether those that attacked the orcs are few or many, I am unsure for they did the work of a sizeable company but left few to no tracks as would be expected. Unless I am mistaking, this is the handwork of our Dunedain friends. Perhaps the orcs pursued them. They are traveling towards the roots of the mountains." "Then that way we shall go. If they drive the Dunedain off then they will return with their remaining forces and I fear they will still be too many." said she. "Come Gondorian. Let us leave this road and follow that which the orcs have made for us."
They continued again and seeing that the trail was less then a day of marching, ran at a goodly pace in the hopes of catching the orcs before nightfall. But as they continued, they realized that the pace of the orcs increased with every mile until it was clear that they were fleeing in terror of something. When darkness fell, it seemed that the trackers had taken no ground on their quarry. Both were weary and frustrated as they lay on the ground underneath the shadow of a fallen oak that lay over two great rocks, creating a natural shelter. They lit no fire and set no guard as they fell swiftly and fitfully into dreamless sleep. They were awakened by the rising of the sun over the mountains. Swiftly they leapt up and, after a small and hasty meal, continued their pursuit. For over a week this continued and they found more and more slain orcs as they went. If the orcs had continued to travel then they would be many, many hours and miles ahead if they had not made it to the mountains yet. Suddenly, they came upon the remains of a large camp. It was from the day before and it was obviously orcish for their were tossed aside pieces of broken armor and weapons and food stuffs to terrible to mention. As Berethor studied the fire, he noticed that one was still smoking slightly and, blowing on the embers, produced a glow. Straightening quickly he pointed at the trail that lead away, saying "They left less than five hours ago. If we hurry, we will catch them before nightfall." Suddenly, a flock or crows flew overhead, causing both to duck their heads. They were large birds and circled them once before continuing. Idrial watched them disappear and said grimly, "Those crows are Crebain from Dunland and the forest of Fangorn. Saruman and the orcs use them as spies. We may not need to travel too much further after all. They will be awaiting us now, backtracking so that they may waylay us as we follow their trail." Berethor agreed with a grim nod and they continued again, less swiftly and infinitely more warily and knowing full well that a sizable enough force would be far too much for them. Idrial pulled out her green elf stone and pressed is against an elm and muttered some words in her fair language. The tree, the stone and Idrial began to glow slightly and the tree began to rustle softly. After a few minutes, Idrial replaced the stone and said, "The trees and plants foretell that the host has been lessened down to fewer than two and a half score of orcs and maybe ten wargs. They lay in ambush for us only a league along this path. It also tells of the four rangers who continue to attack the creatures though now they wait for something." At this, Berethor frowned and said, "They wait for us to draw the orcs attention. Come, let us give them the bait they ask for, Lady."
They continued on a swift march and covered the distance in less than an hours time. A clearing suddenly opened in front of them. They slowed and looked at each other with grim expressions. Blatantly and boldly they strode into the clearing and immediately drew their swords. Wargs leapt out of the bush and Berethor cut one down with a solid blow of his sword and Idrial used the icy an watery blue elven stones to freeze three more into icy statues. Orcs pored from the cover of the brush and assailed them on both sides. In moments they were hard pressed and would have surely been overwhelmed had it not been for the arrows that rained in from somewhere outside the clearing, slaying many orcs and wargs. For a moment, many of the orcs stopped and spun around, trying to find where the arrows were being shot from. With rage, many of the orcs and a couple of wargs began to blunder through the brush in order to find their attackers. They all wound up dead or running in circles finding nothing save their own dead which increased every minute. Then, with a cry of "Arthedaine!" four warriors leapt from the cover of the trees and cut down the orcs with spear and sword. As the orcs turned to face them, Berethor and Idrial redoubled their own attacks. Soon the orcs lost heart and began to scatter in every direction. The wargs were all slain and without them, the remaining orcs lost what heart they had left. A full score turned to the mountain roots and fled up into the hills, even further away from the road. The rest scattered in every direction. Berethor and Idrial pursued those who headed south and west towards the elves while the rangers split into pairs and went both west and north, slaying any they came upon. After nearly an hour Berethor and Idrial returned to the ambush sight to find two of the rangers putting orc and warg heads on sharpened stakes. Without a word, they aided them. When the other two rangers returned they left that place and found another hidden outpost. When they reached it, the rangers turned and one of them introduced them. "Thank you my friends. Caiborn is my name. This is Kinborn, Faergost and Elegost. My younger brothers." Berethor bowed and said, "I am Berethor of Gondor." "and I am Idrial of Lothlorian." Caiborn and his brothers bowed, saying "Well met indeed, friends. What is an elf of the Golden Wood and a warrior of Gondor doing in this part of Eriador?" Idrial answered for them both. "I was tasked by both my Lady Galadriel and the Lord Elrond of Rivendale to defend a caravan of elves from Lorian who came over the Redhorn pass to come to Rivendale and then travel with his folk to the Gray Havens. This man from Gondor seeks Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor to return him to his home and defend the White City." Elegost, the youngest of them said, "I saw many days ago the son of Denethor riding a great steed of the Rohirrom heading towards Rivendale. He reached it many days ago, along with emissaries from all over Middle-Earth at the summons of Master Elrond. You will find him there I think." This made Berethor sigh with great relief at knowing where his captain and lord was. Faergost, a thickly built man with a great sword at his belt spoke. "We have also seen that a mighty host of goblins from the mountains and wargs and even some trolls have left their holds and are making their way west towards the ancient and ruined city of Fornost. As we tracked its direction we also noted that several companies have broken off from them and are headed towards Rhudaur and the Fords of Bruinen." Berethor and Idrial looked at each other and barely restrained a groan of frustration. For if the beasts reached the fords then the elven caravan would be cut off from the safety of Imladris. Sighing, Berethor spoke wearily, "We will have to drive away that host if we are to safely deliver the fair ladies people to Rivendale. We shall leave ere dawn tomorrow." The four brothers drew away and spoke in very low voices. After several minutes they returned to the fire and Caiborn said, "Elegost will travel with you, for he is a mighty tracker and counted amongst our most skilled archers. We shall travel swiftly west and attempt to find aide for you. We will depart tomorrow." They rested well that night.