Paths of Destiny

Grayson sat under the shade of an old turret, ruined by ages of abandon and neglect. It overlooked the rolling hills to the south of Fornost. He packed his pipe with a pinch of the best weed the Hobbit growers had to offer and lit it. He took a couple of puffs and searched the horizon. He knew that his charge would be coming this way soon, and he wanted to be the first to greet him. He'd guarded this hill for two weeks, not content to rest in his father's house while he awaited Godwin's return. Nearly a week ago a young Lossoth woman passed this way on the road north. He was most intrigued by her. She wore the attire of a wealthy Elf maid and rode upon a well groomed Elf mare, but she was definitely Lossoth. She traveled alone and at an urgent pace. A white wolf shadowed her closely. She gazed right at him in his hidden perch on the turret as she rode by. He gave her a respectful nod, and she returned it, but that is all that passed between them. She was the last traveler he had seen, until now.

Just coming over the distant hill were three riders. Grayson's keen eyes recognized Godwin's steed immediately, but the other two he'd never seen before. As they approached, he recognized them as Elves, and it suddenly seemed clear. Godwin missed his family. Sometime during the winter, he must have visited Rivendell. Grayson wondered who had joined him. They were young looking, but that meant little among Elves. Perhaps these were his uncles. Godwin led them straight to the turret and halted at its base. He never looked up, but he addressed Grayson warmly.

"I didn't expect to see you until I reached Fornost, master Grayson," Godwin said.

"I thought this would be a nice place to sit and have a smoke," Grayson said lightly.

"Tis a far piece to ride for a taste of Southfarthing weed," Godwin said with a chuckle.

Grayson descended the short broken stair from his perch and emerged in front of Godwin. He looked him over closely and noticed something different about him. He seemed stronger, more sure of himself. He watched as the young man dismounted and gave him a respectful bow.

"I have missed you, Grayson," Godwin said.

Grayson waited for him to straighten up before dropping to his knee. "Let this be your last bow, Godwin. You are the Lord of the East, and it is I who bow to you. You have passed your test, and I offer you my continued service, if you will have me."

"Rise, Grayson, I am not your master. If you care for my company then join me and welcome, but you ride with a friend," Godwin said.

Behind Godwin they heard an abrupt throat clearing and Godwin laughed. "Grayson, please allow me to present my cousins, Alasseo, son of Dairwen, and Varno, son of Nárello. They have decided to ride with me as well."

Grayson shook their hands, "Welcome. It's not much farther to Fornost, let's get going. It will be a grand night of feasting and comfort. At last, a new Ranger has come home."

The foursome rode the short way into Fornost where Godwin was very warmly received. The Elves were welcomed as well, and there was a grand feast. Many stories were traded and everyone asked Godwin of his adventures during the winter, but he made no mention of his time with Zalaya. Alasseo and Varno noticed how he omitted that tale, but neither mentioned it.

Grayson told Godwin of the things he'd missed and in passing, mentioned seeing a Lossoth woman riding north. Godwin perked up immediately.

"Lossoth? But they never venture south? She was riding North you say?" Godwin asked.

"Yes, it was most strange. She was dressed as an Elf maid, but there was no mistaking the features. She journeyed to the road through the Gap of Angmar. She was no doubt on her way home," Grayson said lightly.

Godwin was very quiet for the rest of the evening. He was worried about Zalaya. What could have possessed her to return to her homeland? Was that not the last thing she wanted? He went to his room in turmoil. His responsibilities required that he return home with most haste, but he could think of nothing but her. He knew he had feelings for her that went beyond mere friendship. He cared very deeply for her. As he laid his head on the pillow, his thoughts were filled with memories of her kindness, grace and beauty. When sleep finally claimed him, it was uneasy.

Zalaya knew the road to the refuge all too well. It was a long straight path that seemed burned into the earth some ages ago. No living thing would grow on it. There were great rocks and boulders for miles on either side, but the path was smooth and straight and black as pitch. There was scarcely room for a horse, but they managed. Far ahead was the entrance to the refuge. It was marked by a great rock that stood like an enormous obelisk in the center of this vast wasteland of rock. Though it was spring, there were no signs of life. Not a single weed or blade of grass could endure here. This was the territory of the Old Ones, the giants of the past, the dragons. Their breath had long since ruined the land here. She drew closer to the great rock. It was like a solid black tower that stood like a sentry to mark the entrance to the refuge. At its base was the cave. Around it, boulders had been stacked to shrink the doorway to barely large enough for horse and rider. No dragon had passed through this ancient gate since the escape of Smaug. And now, she was sent to awaken the great ones and release them. She felt herself trembling and she worked to steady herself as she reached the entry. Her fingers brushed over the ring she now wore and she closed her eyes, willing herself to press on. She trusted the word of Tom Bombadil. She knew that the ages of her family's slavery to the refuge needed to end. She was simply worried about the consequences. Smaug was one dragon, yet he caused the fall of an empire with the destruction of the Lonely Mountain. The responsibility she carried was suddenly very heavy.

Breakfast in the main hall at Fornost was an informal affair. With so many coming and going, the meal was served in shifts. Some came early and then went out on patrols, and others came later. Godwin was at the table early. He was dressed for travel, and Grayson joined him with concern in his eyes.

"You have only just returned. Must you depart again so soon?" Grayson asked.

"I must go on one more errand before I leave for Eryn Gwilthiwen. I believe a friend may have need of a little help," he said cryptically.

"The Lossoth woman," Grayson said.

Godwin looked at Grayson levelly, "Why would you say that?"

"I saw your eyes when I mentioned her. Do you want to tell me about it?" Grayson asked.

Godwin scowled as he turned his attention back to his breakfast. "No."

"Her place is in the north, among her people. Yours is in the East. Let whatever passed between you go, Godwin. You know you do not have the time to spare, not now."

"Why, what has happened?" Godwin asked as he looked up.

"A letter from the King has come. The situation in the East is most unstable. One of the Warlords has taken charge of the land. He calls himself Overlord and has started executing any who oppose him. His eyes are bent towards Ithilien and Minas Tirith. He knows there is an heir that lives in Gondor…" Grayson explained.

"Enough! I cannot hear more. I will leave within the hour. If you still care to ride with me then meet me outside the gates. I must get ready," Godwin said with a frown. He stormed out of the hall and headed to the stairs to his room. As he came around the corner, he was met by a young peasant maid who served in the hall.

"Lord Godwin, it is good to see you safely back in Fornost," she said with a dazzling smile. "You have the favor of the Rangers. What can I do to welcome you home?"

Godwin frowned, not in the least bit interested in her obvious offering. "Your smile is all I can accept. I must be about my business now. Good morning." His answer had been barely polite as he brushed past her. He never looked back, but heard the loud 'Hmph' behind him. He'd seen the type before, in taverns. That was not what he wanted in a woman. What he wanted was…

"Godwin," Varno called from down the hall as he ran to join him. "Grayson said we're leaving soon. Alasseo and I are already packed and will wait by the stables."

Godwin sighed and nodded. "I'll be along shortly."

Varno smiled, "I can't wait to meet the rest of the family. This is going to be a great adventure."

Godwin slipped into his room and closed the door. He needed a moment to collect himself. He felt as though he was abandoning Zalaya. She assured him she was alright, that she could take care of herself, but he couldn't help but worry. He tried to drive her from his thoughts as he packed. She made her choice; she knew what she was doing. He needed to get his mind back on his destiny. Rhûn needed him, and he had an obligation to fulfill. His father, Silverhelm deserved his legacy, but more importantly, he wanted to make Alcon proud. He missed his father, and his sister, Lyneya. He thought of the twins, Ára and Líre, and smiled. How old were they now? Eleven? He shouldered his saddlebags and left. No more thoughts of this winter, no regrets. He had to move on, she did.

Godwin and his cousins rode down to the gate in silence. As they passed through, Godwin looked for Grayson, but stopped and stared in disbelief. There were thirty Rangers mounted and waiting, with Grayson at the head of the formation.

"What is the meaning of this?" Godwin asked in confusion.

"Your army, small as it is, awaits you," Grayson said.

Godwin halted by his mentor and looked at the gathering of men. There were young and old among them, but all were among the most skilled of men. He didn't know what to say.

"Address them, you are their captain," Grayson said softly. "They all volunteered for this."

Godwin felt a knot in his throat. "Friends, I thank you for coming. I ride to my home, the home I chose, the home that chose me. Eryn Gwilthiwen, the elvish settlement in Ithilien, in the land of Gondor is my home. My father, the father that chose me awaits me there. Your King is also my King, by choice. But I had another king once, as a child. He was my father, Colwin Silverhelm, Overlord of Rhûn. The time has come for me to return and take my rightful place in my father's seat. My land is broken and needs to heal. It will be a long and bloody journey to the banks of the Sea of Rhûn. I cannot ask you to follow me on this journey…"

"You didn't ask, and you've naught to say in the matter, lad," Helgoth interrupted. "You earned your place among us, and we want to follow. We'll see peace between the East and the West for the first time in three ages. You're the only man that can do it, but you need help. Enough speeches, let's go."

Godwin smirked, and Grayson could swear he saw a blush. "Very well then. Master Helgoth's wisdom has silenced my protest. Let us be on our way."

The company rode out, south for a short while before turning East. They rode hard though the journey was a long one and it was but the first day. There was urgency in Godwin's heart as though there was some event he must rush to. He did not know what it was he feared or hoped; only that he must meet it, this ominous event at the edge of his thoughts. He was not superstitious, nor did he carry any gifts of sight or magic. But at times he just felt that something important was going to happen. He felt that way now, and he knew he must hurry.

Zalaya left her horse and Fizu outside and ventured into the dark tunnel in cautious silence. Once through the entrance, it opened up greatly. She could hear the echo of her soft footfalls and knew the room she was in was vast. She was going downhill, that she knew, and she'd come a fair distance. She halted and listened for signs as to the direction she should go. It was quiet, like a deafening silence that hangs over the burial grounds of the Forodwaith, ancestors of her people. Somewhere in the black distance she saw a dim light and walked toward it. That must be the room she was searching for. As she approached, her nostrils were assaulted by a strange stench. Her stomach rebelled against her as the foul odor hung in the air like a thick fog. Her eyes started to burn, but she knew she had to press on. She reached the small doorway and peered in. A small room, lit with but a few short candles seemed frozen in time. There was a chair and a table and a small bed in one corner that was occupied by a sleeping form. Zalaya approached, instinctively knowing that it must be her father, the last appointed Morzethu. But something wasn't right, and as she reached the bed she knew what was wrong. He was dead. The gasp that caught in her throat was painful as she gazed on him. Her first meeting with her father came too late. His face was still covered in sweat from the fever he must have suffered. His passing had come but a short time ago. Tears streamed down her face as the loss struck her. Now she was truly alone.

But there was little time for her to waste now. She had to deal with the slumbering dragons soon. She passed through the small chamber through one of the doorways into another and stopped dead in her tracks. This chamber was warm and thick with a strange musk. The foul odor was strongest here, and she saw why. The eggs, the dragon's nest that must have been here for ages were rotting. Most of the shells were split open and black vile rotten ooze covered the floor of the chamber. There was no sign of the Old ones here and she knew that if they woke to this sight, it would not be good. The only thing she could think to do was to burn everything. This chamber was blocked off from the others, so she threw her torch down and let the cleansing fire do its work. She ran back through the entrance and hung a blanket over the door to help block the smoke.

Now she could continue her exploration. There was only one doorway left. That was the doorway she feared, but she must go through it. She took a deep breath, looked at the ring on her finger and bit her lip nervously. What would she find in that room, a peaceful future of freedom or doom? She took a deep breath and prepared to meet whatever was waiting for her.

Skrug was still sleepy, very sleepy, but he couldn't go back to sleep. He listened for the soothing music but there was nothing but silence. He sat up, stretched his long arms and yawned. He burped a little and a small puff of flame slipped out. He smirked. His belly rumbled. He was hungry. He didn't know how long it had been since he ate. He vaguely remembered a very tender young cow as his last meal, probably a few days ago. He opened his eyes and surveyed the room. It seemed different. His mother was gone, and his father… So was uncle Smaug. In fact, he didn't see any of the rest of the dragons sleeping in here. How long had he been sleeping?