Chapter Four: The Dúnedain
Brandon insisted that he and Gweneth continue their quest to return home with the tall men from the West. He assured her that if any had the ability to help them, it was the Dúnedain. The young man didn't say much more than that; he resumed talking with the tallest man as they continued through the forest with Gwen trudging behind. The blonde-haired beauty felt isolated from the others. Occasionally, her lover would smile at her reassuringly or give a gentle squeeze of her hand, before turning his attention back to the strangers.
When they came out of the woods, they looked upon a desolate wasteland. All the trees had been cut down, dozens of acres worth, leaving only stumps, broken limbs and stripped pieces of bark. The sight saddened the young woman and brought to mind the words of Faron:
"They've raped our forests with no intent on replanting. Their love for the sea drove them here; the riches of Middle-earth make them stay."
It was at that precise moment, that Gweneth sensed something ominous about the land. A dark shadow lay upon that place; she could feel it. It had nothing to do with the ruinous nature of the landscape, she felt in the air and in the earth beneath her feet. A malevolent presence seemed to encompass all that crossed into its domain. It caused her to shudder despite the temperate weather.
After they crossed the cut over land, the group reached a large bay. They walked along a natural rock wharf that jetted out into the water where three ships were moored. Brandon grabbed Gweneth's hand and carefully helped her onto the vessel. She took a seat at the prow where she started puffing away on her pipe as the men rowed the boat over the still waters.
Only a few minutes later, Brandon, with a bottle of wine in hand, sat next to the young woman.
"I'm sorry if you felt neglected these past few hours," he said as he offered her the bottle. She took a long drink. "I was trying to get as much information from the Dúnedain… " Gwen abruptly stopped him.
"What the hell's a Dúnedain?" she queried, a look of confusion on her face.
"These men call themselves the Dúnedain, which translates to 'The Edain of the West' in Sindarin."
"What the hell's an Edain?" she asked in the puzzled tone.
"It means 'the Second Ones' in the same language, Sindarin," he answered with a knowing smile. Gwen shook her head before taking another swig from the bottle while Brandon continued. "What would you say if I told you that I've been here before… that we've both been here before?"
"I'd say you're fucking nuts! I remember every place I've ever been, except when I was a baby, and I assure you, I've never been here before in my entire life!" she sneered. "For god's sake Brandon, look at them," continued Gwen as she motioned towards the men with her chin. "Look how they dress. I know the retro look is making a comeback but that's ridiculous!"
"Gwen," the young man started in a serious tone. "We've somehow moved back and forth through time."
"You've been holding out on me," she said in an affronted tone. "Did you find some of my pills or is the wine drugged with something?" Gwen sniffed the lip of the bottle.
"The wine's not drugged," he retorted as he snatched the bottle from her hand and took a drink. "You don't believe me, do you?" asked Brandon in a morose voice.
She studied his face for a few moments. "You're serious?" she queried with an air of disbelief. "We haven't moved through time. That's crazy talk! The kind that'll get you committed to an insane asylum, by the way… "
"What do you think happened?" he asked. "How did we go to sleep in one place and wake up in a totally different one? How is it that I can speak and understand a language that doesn't exist in our world?"
As Gwen refilled her pipe, she pondered Brandon's questions. "I honestly can't say how we woke up in a different place, but we didn't travel in time. That shit doesn't happen in real life. It's called science fiction! And I don't need to remind you that fiction is fake." She glanced at the rowing men. "We've somehow stumbled upon one of those reenactment thingies. You know, where people dress up in period clothing and live like people did a long time ago. Maybe they're filming something for PBS. I think I once saw something similar on TV before." Her eyes then brightened and she excitedly added. "Ooh, maybe we're on some show like Candid Camera or something. That'd be kinda cool."
"I can't believe you don't believe me," he said disappointedly.
"How can I?" she asked before puffing on her pipe. She turned her gaze towards the tall man. He seemed to be watching her closely. He turned his head when they made eye contact. As Gwen puffed on her pipe, that same man said something to Brandon. She could tell that he was speaking about her. Her lover responded to the man's comments in the same tongue. "What did he say? He said something about me, didn't he?" she asked when the men fell quiet.
Brandon looked keenly at the young woman. "He said that you will believe soon enough."
"That remains to be seen," she chuckled in reply.
The sun was already sinking beyond the horizon when they neared the port on the eastern bank of the bay. From their position, it looked as though the land had closed in around them. Lights flickered on in the numerous dwellings that stood proudly atop the stone cliff wall. Gwen watched as men walked along the piers with torches, lighting the oil lamps that were located every few feet along the platform.
They disembarked the vessel and followed the 'leader' to the wide stone stairway that was cut into the side of the cliff. Two huge silver vats of burning flame sat atop marble pedestals located on either side of the steps, both at its base and apex. They must have been at least fifty feet tall; the shimmering flames illuminated the entire staircase. As they ascended the steps, the teens noticed that each pedestal was carved in the likeness of a man holding a burning container above his head. It was actually a thing of great beauty.
At the top of the stairway, there was a huge pillared courtyard with many lamps, statues and benches. Numerous flowers in a variety of colors and scents were centered on small tables scattered throughout that space. A magnificent multi-level hall wrapped around the square and appeared to be made from the same black rock on which it stood. The structure had an eerie Gothic feel to it.
A dark-haired man, who appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties, speedily descended the stairs of the hall. He was accompanied by six black men. Tears flowed from his eyes as he spoke loudly in that strange language that Gweneth assumed was Sindarin. Brandon answered before warmly embracing the man. The young woman nearly freaked when they kissed each other on the forehead. The stranger then attempted to hug Gwen, but she stepped behind Brandon.
"What the fuck? That dude's tripping! Don't let him near me!" she ordered Brandon.
"It's okay, Gwen, I promise," answered Brandon, who was wiping away his own tears.
"What the fuck's going on? You know him?" she asked shockingly. Gwen continued to keep her lover between the weirdo and herself.
"Of course. He's our son, Herumor," replied the Englishman.
Upon hearing that, Gweneth started slowly backing away from Brandon, too. More and more people were descending the steps from the building. She shook her head as the blood drained from her face. "This isn't real," she said.
"Gwen!" started Brandon. He slowly walked towards her with that guy, Herumor.
She held her hand up. "Stop right there! Don't come any closer!" She continued to walk backwards, shaking her head. "You're all fucked in the head. They must have bewitched you or something, Brand. How can you think that we have a kid? I've never had a kid and neither have you! This is crazy. You've lost it. You're mental. You should be locked up somewhere. You… " Several men then suddenly shouted as they lunged at her; terrifying the young woman even more. But it was too late. Gwen never finished that last sentence. Her foot teetered on the top step and a second later, she tumbled backwards down the stairway that led to the docks. The back of her head hit the stone steps so hard that it knocked her out before she was scooped up by one of those Dúnedain.
When Gweneth opened her eyes, she found the faces of Brandon and that Herumor guy hovering over her. The pounding at the base of her skull was nearly intolerable and her entire body ached, literally, from head to toe. She moaned as she repositioned herself on the couch where she had been placed.
Suddenly, Herumor handed her a chalice, and for the first time, she clearly understood his words when he said, "Drink this, mother, it'll dull the pain." She didn't respond, but took the proffered 'medicine' and swiftly downed it. As soon as her lips left the cup, she could feel the effects. Both her mind and body had become numb as a feeling of euphoria engulfed her. The young woman was savoring the opiates that she must have been given. She supposed that strange place wasn't so bad after all. "Has it dulled the pain?" he asked. His gray eyes were filled with both concern and worry.
"Yeah, thanks," responded a blissful Gweneth. As she started to take in her surroundings, Brandon plopped down beside her on the couch while Herumor took a seat to her left. All the other occupants seemed to shrink back into dark recesses of that massive room.
The chamber was decorated completely in red, gold and black. Gwen thought that that was a bold choice of colors, yet they seemed to mesh well. However, it was the portrait that hung above the mantle that caused her to jump to her feet and take special notice. She approached the painting, nearly tripping over a table in the process, for a closer look. The young woman blinked her eyes, then rubbed them, thinking that she was witnessing some type of hallucination from the pain medication.
"That's us," said Brandon, who now stood beside her. "I remember when that was done. That was the year Fuinur was born." He glanced at Herumor. "You were five at the time." He returned his gaze to Gweneth. "Fuinur was cantankerous that morning. Do you remember, Irimë?"
Gwen didn't hear him. She was too busy staring at the painting of her holding a blonde-haired baby in her arms; an older Brandon stood to her left while a young dark-haired boy stood to her right. If it hadn't been for her current sedated condition, she would have run from the room screaming at the top of her lungs. Instead, she stood there, totally dumbfounded.
"Irimë? Gwen? Gwen?" called Brandon as he gently shook her out of her reverie.
"Huh?" She turned her glassy eyes on him. "What?"
"Are you alright?" he queried.
"Oh, yeah," she drawled. The young woman returned her gaze to the portrait. "How can this be? She looks just like me, and he looks like you in a few years."
At the moment, Brandon was grateful that she was blitzed out of her mind. It meant that he wouldn't have to deal with any drama for the remainder of the night.
"Hey, Gwen," he then said in a cheerful voice. "How about a nice, hot bath before dinner?"
"Okay," she mumbled faintly.
"Just hang on one minute," he said before he and Herumor left the chamber. Gwen continued to stare at the painting in a trance-like state until they returned to her side accompanied by four women.
The next thing Gwen knew, she was being led from the room surrounded by these women whose speech she could not understand. She was feeling too mellow to question that bizarre situation but she did wonder how come she could only communicate with Herumor and not the women.
They climbed three flights of stairs before they reached the bathing chamber. The young woman was amazed when they entered that spacious room. Since she had only seen oil lamps and candles as a means of light, she was quite taken aback when she saw that there was indoor plumbing in that home. Faron's cottage didn't have any and his 'bathroom' was the outhouse located outside. These Dúnedain appeared to be more civilized than she would have imagined.
While the women tended to Gweneth, Brandon held a council with the men of his household. He decided that it would be best to conceal the past from his lover. She wasn't ready to face it. Not yet.