A/N: Once more, written by heraldofmanwe
Chapter Two
His Lance was Keen
Two weeks after Thorongil and Elerína rescued Percy from the Barrow Downs the excitement their quest had generated was finally dying down. Elerína gave most of the treasure they had brought back from the barrow to the local school at which she taught history, and used what she had left to buy the occasional round of drinks at the Pony. In doing so she made friends of just about everyone in Bree.
Thorongil sold the swords he had recovered from the barrow to the party of dwarf merchants staying at the Pony, making enough coin to cover all their expenses living at The Prancing Pony for at least six months. The only treasure he kept from his adventure was a diamond necklace for Elerína.
A number of Bree-folk, upon seeing the riches that came from their short adventure, proposed an expedition to the Downs with the express goal of treasure hunting. Thorongil tried to explain that if one plundered a wight's lair for personal gain the treasure would be cursed and bring them nothing but sorrow, but many of the would-be adventurers didn't believe it. Fortunately they did understand when Elerína and Thorongil made it clear they would not be riding to the rescue of anyone who went onto the Downs looking for treasure, which put a damper on their plotting. Any remaining plans for ill conceived raids on the barrows were put to rest by the mayor of Bree, who reminded the townsfolk that technically all the wealth buried beneath the Downs was the property of the King, and the town guard had the authority to seize whatever treasure an adventurer might find.
It was just after sunset when Elerína returned to the Prancing Pony and joined Thorongil at a table for two. She looked exhausted; her evening history lessons at Bree's schoolhouse were becoming very popular, and she was invariably bombarded with questions.
"Did you teach them anything interesting today?" he asked.
"The quest of Eärendil," Elerína replied.
Thorongil leaned back on his chair and smiled. "That's a good tale, though I prefer the tales that come after."
"Maybe you should tell them," Elerína suggested.
"Just because I was there does not mean I can match your eloquence," he replied.
"Unfortunately my knowledge of Middle Earth's history immediately after the Great War is limited," said Elerína. "I believe Elrond's people kept detailed records. Any interest in a trip to Rivendell?"
Elerína knew the answer was yes. Thorongil smiled like a child opening presents. He had been eager to visit Rivendell from the moment they came to Bree. There was a relic of the elder days which he hoped still lay in the hidden valley.
"Now?" he asked eagerly.
"Let's leave first thing in the morning," said Elerína.
At dawn the next morning, Thorongil and Elerína set out along the East Road. Thorongil was dressed as a ranger. His exquisite sword stood in stark contrast to his simple green and brown attire. Elerína wore an outfit of black leather and satin trimmed with white, exceedingly elegant yet functional. One passing her on the road might think it equally likely she was travelling to a battle or a ball, but certainly would think she was not to be taken lightly in either event. Around her belt a few oddities hung: the hilt of an exceedingly ornate dueling foil with no blade to be seen, a slightly curved cylinder of glass about and inch thick, and a small blue silk pouch covered in golden embroidery.
After a hard day's riding they arrived at the last proper inn along the East Road. The Forsaken Inn was almost as old as the road itself, and since it's construction it had been a place of ill repute. All manner of ruffians, scoundrels, and malcontents spent their coin on poor drink, gambling, and entertainment. Unfortunately it was raining hard, so Elerína decided they would stop there rather than camp under the stars. She asked Thorongil to take care of the horses while she went in to see about lodging.
"Be careful in there, I doubt many fair maidens ride through here," said Thorongil with a wink.
"Oh quit worrying, I'll be fine," she replied, opening the door to the inn.
The common room was bustling with activity, filled with unclean and uncivilized men. A den of thieves would have been cleaner - this was the den for thieves not good enough to have their own dens.
Immediately a number of men stood up to greet Elerína, and not in a friendly way.
"Oh my," said the closest ruffian, "looks like we'll be having fun tonight boys."
Elerína was immediately certain she would not be staying anywhere near this wretched place. She wasn't worried for her own safety - the first person to lay a finger on her would be dead before the second finger landed - she was worried about the ramifications of the slaughter that might ensue. Nevertheless, she wanted to teach the occupants of this establishment a lesson in respect.
"You boys want to play a game?" she said in a playful tone that barely hid her malice. "All right… let's play hide and seek."
With a wave of her hand she turned to leave as chaos ensured. The men screamed and clutched their eyes. Those who were standing groped for their chairs or tables as if in total darkness. All manner of bedlam broke loose as people stumbled over benches and tumbled headlong into their comrades, many holding mugs of beer or plates of food. Everyone in that hall had been blinded.
"We're leaving," declared Elerína as she stepped back outside, speaking loudly over the sounds of cursing voices and falling furniture.
"What happened?" asked Thorongil confused.
"We're leaving now," Elerína replied, mounting her horse.
"Alright then," Thorongil laughed, guessing from the sounds of mayhem something of what had happened.
They rode for many days, most of which were rainy - though it never rained where they camped. Thorongil insisted they find the three stone trolls, which cost them three days of searching.
It was a full ten days after they had set out when they arrived at the ford of Bruinen. They crossed and entered the Hidden Valley to the sound of silence. It was deserted - not a single elf remained to sing joyous songs under the sun or stars.
"I hope it is still here," muttered Thorongil.
"Good hunting," Elerína replied.
While Thorongil searched through the armory and the vaults of Rivendell for his prize, Elerína took a leisurely stroll to the library. She found a number of books that would be useful in teaching the people of Bree as well as a few older tomes she had never read. By the end of the first night she had everything she needed, and went to find a room still furnished in which they could spend the night.
Thorongil had less luck. He searched long into the night and woke up early the next morning to continue his efforts. By evening he gave up searching and instead went to the library himself to find any records of Gil-galad's possessions' final resting place. Late that night he found what he sought in a footnote in a long forgotten tome authored by Elrond himself.
"Against the Spear of Gil-galad and the Sword of Elendil none could stand, save Sauron alone against whom both did break. The shards of the sword were passed on to Elendil's heir, but the spear was made only for the High King of the Noldor. I thus decided that with him they would remain."
The next morning Elerína found Thorongil standing before a small mound in a courtyard covered in flowers.
"It was buried with him?" she asked, guessing the answer.
"It's never simple, is it?" he replied.
"Are you going to dig it up?"
"I don't know."
Elerína put her arm on his shoulder.
"The world he knew made him a soldier first and a king second. If you were in his place, what would you want done?"
"I would expect me to take it," he replied, picking up a shovel he had found in a store room.
"I'm sure he would be honored to see you carry his weapon," said Elerína she left.
After carefully reburying the bones of the last high king of the elves, Thorongil took the shards of Aeglos to the forges of Rivendell. With the very tools that reforged its ally Narsil into The Flame of the West he repaired The Icicle. It was seven feet long but less than two inches thick, a cylinder tapering to a perfect point a foot from the tip. It was made of a glistening white metal with the appearance of new fallen snow and weighing almost nothing. It was cold to the touch and the air around it became like breath on a winter's morning.
When Thorongil was finished he showed the weapon to Elerína.
"It's not Ringil," he said, "but it should suffice for the time being."
Elerína laughed. "It should suffice? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that possibly the most valuable weapon remaining in Middle Earth? It's probably worth more than Bree!"
"We don't know what remains of Sauron's craftsmanship," he said.
"We are not going to Mordor," Elerína interjected, eager to put an end to this line of thought.
"It would be exciting."
"Too exciting," she replied.
They spent the rest of the day and another night in the valley. Even abandoned, Rivendell felt much more like home than Bree ever could. Nevertheless at dawn on the fourth day they began the return journey west.
After a few days of hard riding they arrived once more at the Forsaken Inn.
"We should get a warm meal," Elerína decided.
"What are you planning?" Thorongil asked suspiciously.
"I want to see if they learned their lesson"
"Next time you want to lecture me about staying focused on our mission, remember this."
Elerína stepped into the inn and immediately a scoundrel stood up. He got only as far as "well what have we here" before the man next to him yanked him back into his seat.
"Don't speak to her!" he whispered frantically. "Don't even look at her. She's a witch, sure as I'm a man."
Similar exchanges happened at many tables as those who had been present for Elerína's first visit explained to their brothers in crime what had happened.
"A witch?" growled Thorongil as he passed the man's table. "That's awfully rude."
The man gave no answer. Thorongil and Elerína had warm bread and soup, of poor quality and overpriced, then carried on with their journey.
Late at night they passed through the east gate of Bree and arrived at the Prancing Pony. Before they could go to their rooms Barliman Butterbur Jr., who went by Barley and was at times mockingly called "Barley-boy Butterbur" by the older men of Bree who had known his father, gave them a very official looking letter. It bore the seal of the King.
In many words it relayed a simple message: the King's regent wished to meet the slayer of the barrow wight as soon as possible. Thorongil guessed he had some task for them, and he was not eager to take orders from a servant of a mortal king.
"Just last week you wanted to go to Mordor, and now you don't want to meet the leader of the Rangers of The North who probably wants you to go off and do something incredibly dangerous?" asked Elerína incredulously.
"Fine, I'll go," moaned Thorongil.
"You mean 'we'll go,' don't you?" corrected Elerína.