Writer's notes - Thanks Thug, this was one of my older stories, written years ago. You've motivated me to update it.
I hope you liked the Gandalf cameo a few chapters ago.
Terror Among the Tomes
THE GATES OF FORNOST ERAIN – Narwain - 1410
Nirnadel stood at the great gate of the fortress city with her four Royal Guards. Falathar knelt in the snow before her and kissed her hand. "I will bring you riches and glory, Your Highness," he promised.
Nirnadel raised him up. "Brave Falathar, We would be most glad if you would bring yourself back alive."
Kaile came next and gave the Princess a hug. "We'll be back soon. Please don't worry."
Nirnadel grasped her tightly, "You must take care, dear Kaile. You have become like a sister to Us." Other than her older brothers and Anariel, Nirnadel had no companions in childhood. She had grown very attached to Kaile and they had become nearly inseparable. The others took her hand in turn, promising to be safe and return successfully.
The procession headed down the King's Road west toward Annúminas, away from the rising sun. The crisp morning air bit deeply into Nirnadel as she watched her friends travel into grave peril. She cupped her hands, blowing hot air into them. Steam billowed out of her mouth. As the travelers moved out of sight, she sent Haedorial a whisper on the cold Arthedan winds.
"Please return safely."
THE VILLAGE OF ROOD
The quiet village of Rood was once a thriving stop between Annúminas and Fornost. The devastation of the war of 1409 had forced most of the occupants to flee. However, the residents had been slowly returning to rebuild and reestablish their lives. In addition, river commerce had also begun to return and enrich the land. Through the snow, the party approached the village from the east.
Mallon pointed to the stately mansion along the south side of the road. "There is the Eketta house. We will lodge with my family for the evening. There will be more snow coming."
Aerin nodded. "I concur. We can wait out the storm tonight."
Arriving at the Eketta House, Mallon saw two armored guards at the front door, dressed in the dignified Eketta colors. Each carried an eket, a short, stabbing sword, for which the family was named. Seeing Mallon, the guards greeted him warmly. Mallon introduced his new companions and they were all warmly greeted by the Ekettas. Quarters were given to each person and they soon gathered in the main hall around the warm fire for hot cider and a meal.
Within an hour after sunset, the snow began falling in earnest, piling up outside in great white drifts. The wind blew hard against the window shutters. Covered in thick furs, Mercatur sipped a mug of hot cider. "This is too much like Rhudaur. I prefer the warmer climate of Cardolan," he commented to Valandil.
The gaily-dressed Haedorial quipped, "I rather like the snow. It feels pure somehow."
Mercatur grunted.
Valandil shrugged. "I don't know. It's just cold out there and I hate to think of lugging back heavy books through it."
The Rhudauran mercenary walked over to one of the windows and looked out at the drifts, his breath misting on the panes. "Snow and wind... wind and snow. I might as well be home."
To this, Valandil drank his cider and sighed. "Well, I'm going to get some sleep. Mallon says it will clear tomorrow." He set his mug near the sink and went to his room. There would be several long days of travel ahead.
THE OUTSKIRTS OF ANNÚMINAS
The desolation grew as the party neared Annúminas. Mallon spread his warriors out in a skirmish line to expand the scouting ability of his force. From a distance, the riders could be seen as slowly moving dots in the snow. Trudging behind were the foot soldiers of Cardolan along with Mercatur, Valandil, and Kaile. They moved slowly west along the Men Aran, or King's Road. To their left, the Baranduin River flowed slowly along to Lake Nenuial.
Off in the distance, a great mound could be seen with snow-covered structures. The wind blew fiercely, throwing flakes into the air. Clumps of frosted pines surrounded the mound, but no other life could be detected. Mallon looked up into the overcast sky. "Another storm is coming. We might have two days," he told the group.
Aerin pointed to the mound. "Look, atop that hill lies ruined Annúminas. Our goal is in sight."
When they were within a few hundred feet of the city, they could clearly see the devastation. At first glance, not a single structure could be seen intact. Houses and shops were smashed and burned. A tower at the northeastern part of the city was razed. Rubble and twisted metal lay in piles. The bridge across the Baranduin was severely damaged and would have to be crossed carefully.
One by one, they went across the battered stone bridge over the icy Baranduin into the Old Quarter of the city. Quaint brick buildings were wrecked or torn down. Skeletons could be seen lying in the cobblestone street. Kaile shivered at the sight and Haedorial grimaced. Mallon commented, "These homes were more than one thousand years old. This city was once the jewel of the Kingdom of Arnor." He bowed his head sadly, "Now it is just scattered rubble."
A straight road ran southwest from the bridge to the now shattered Royal Hall. To one side of the Hall sat the King's Star Tower and to the other side sat the Library. The Royal Hall was once an oval-shaped dome, but now that dome was collapsed into ruin, leaving the intricate framework like the ribcage of a skeleton. A cursory search of the building revealed that it had been thoroughly sacked and pillaged. The library looked damaged, but remained reasonably intact. Several pillars had collapsed and the roof had fallen in areas. Otherwise, the exquisite marble structure stood defiantly in the snow.
Mallon had men probe the doors. The solid mallorn-wood doors had been torn down and lay on the marble steps. Two men stepped over the doors into the ground floor of the library. They reported smashed bookshelves and burnt books lying in heaps. Snow had fallen through gaps in the ceiling and icicles dangled from nearly every hanging surface.
"Sir, we have found two staircases down into the ground," called one man. Mallon and several others stepped through into the Library. Two massive marble staircases wound down to the lower level. One staircase had obvious cracks and gaps in the marble structure. One man began down the first staircase and the other, down the second.
The second man stopped halfway down. The staircase began to rock and pitch lightly. The warrior carefully returned to the top saying, "It's too unstable."
The first man reached the bottom of his staircase and called up, "This one's all right." Having said that, he was immediately incinerated by fire erupting from the floor. The flame shot skyward causing those looking down to jump back. At the bottom, the warrior's charred carcass fell to the floor and broke into pieces.
Mallon swore.
"The wards placed in the Library are still intact. I feared as much. This will make our task more difficult. I will take the next risk," he said with determination. Mallon crept out on the landing and walked cautiously down the stairs. Nearing the bottom, he scanned around the room and on the floor at the base of the staircase. He held out his palm and uttered a prayer to Varda. He was rewarded when a silver symbol appeared on the floor. It was a symbol of fire, placed there by one of the now departed guardians. Two charred orc skeletons lay nearby, attesting to the effectiveness of the hex. Mallon called upon the help of Varda again, channeling his power toward the magical guardian. Perspiration beaded up over his brow despite the cold. Slowly, the symbol vanished. Mallon sighed. "Thank Varda, the threat has been removed. Come down one at a time," he instructed.
Aerin came down next, followed by Valandil. The circular room housing the staircase had two exits: one southeast into a domed room and one west to a door. Mallon moved cautiously to the southeast archway. Having reached the bottom, Aerin and Valandil went to the double doors. Mercatur then came down, followed by Ostomir and then Falathar.
Holding up lanterns to light the way, Mallon and Mercatur moved warily into the archway. Axe in hand, Mercatur looked about. He noticed a heavy portcullis poised over the entryway, ready to skewer any who passed through. He held back Mallon, who exhaled in relief. Together, they scanned the circular room. Black marble columns and walls led up to a magnificent vaulted ceiling. A pool in the center housed a marble statue. Another staircase could be seen directly across the room, while four grand exits ran north, south, east, and west.
At the doors, Aerin discovered that they were securely locked. The doors would take some time to open, even if they would try to bash it in. Mallon ordered his men to bring down stones to prop the portcullis up and prevent it from falling on anyone. Soon, men were bringing in stones and piling them in the archway. It took several minutes before the pile grew high enough to block the fall of the portcullis.
One of Mallon's men reported, "Sir, Amrith is with a group of men up top to guard our rear. He thinks there may be enemy forces out there."
Mallon nodded. "Very well. We cannot be too careful," he replied.
Mercatur and Ostomir ventured into the room and together, they moved to the fountain. Looking in, they noticed the water of the fountain strangely clear. Mallon called, "Don't touch the water. I suspect it is poisoned." Mercatur nodded warily. Falathar had moved close to the western exit.
Four man-sized statues, clad in heavy plate armor, stood in niches along the southern corridor. Each held a greatsword four and a half feet long. Mallon pulled Falathar back harshly. "Those statues will come to life!" he scolded. Falathar shrugged, but kept an uneasy eye on the figures. Mallon checked down each of the remaining exits: north; south; and east. Each had some hidden peril.
Mallon led the way back to the staircase. He shook his head. "We're stuck out there. Can we get through that door?" he asked, pointing to the west door.
Aerin nodded with a slight grin. "I've been waiting for you," she said with a snap of her fingers. Tumblers could be heard rotating within the door. Valandil returned the grin then pulled the double doors open.
Mallon grimaced, seemingly irritated. "Why did you not open the doors before now?" he asked.
Aerin smiled playfully. "Why waste my energy if you can get us through this?" He rolled his eyes, but let a grin cross his face.
Together, they entered a rectangular room constructed of white marble. Porcelain bookshelves held volumes on the lore and the working of stone. Texts of all types and sizes were here, many of which were written by dwarves. Mallon selected a number of books and had them taken upstairs. At the top of the stairs he directed the men.
"Begin building a wagon. We have begun to find some of the books."
Within an hour, they had explored three more rooms: the Crystal Chamber; the Chamber of the Sun; and the Ice Chamber. Pearl-covered books on the intricacies of gem lore, books on the movement of land masses, and books on stars found their way up to the surface to be loaded on the wagon. Within the Ice Chamber, Kaile stood in awe of the walls of bluish-white translucent stone. At the north end of the room, Valandil and Aerin struggled with a locked door. Suddenly, electricity leapt from the door to Aerin's hand. She cried out in pain, shaking her hand about.
"Are you alright?" Valandil asked with concern. Aerin stuck her fingers in her mouth, nodding her head. Kaile had observed this and hurried over to them. She took Aerin's hand and looked at it. It was red, but there was no blistering. Fortunately, the injury was minor.
Kaile reached into her pouch and produced a dried red berry. Giving it to Aerin, she instructed, "Here, take this. It will make you feel better." Aerin ate the berry while Kaile brought out a cream and began rubbing it on the injured hand.
Mallon then opened the east door, revealing a room faced in blue-black stone. The room was domed and encrusted with thousands of large, clear gems. Many of these gems magically radiated light to represent the present configuration of the stars. It was magnificent. The party entered, awed by the twinkling lights on the ceiling. Mercatur's mouth fell open. Tapping Valandil, he commented, "These guys were good. This stuff is amazing." Haedorial continued to write and sketch furiously, jotting down every detail into a leather bound book.
Aerin invoked another spell to open a door on the south wall. Beyond was a large room thickly carpeted in blood red. Inside, bookshelves were covered in scarlet quilting. Mallon and Haedorial entered and were stunned that nearly all sound was swallowed up. Mallon called out, but his voice could barely be heard by Haedorial, only a few feet away. Haedorial pulled one of the books down and opened it. It was written in the Adûnaic language, the native language of the Dúnedain. It was a description of the history and mechanics of lens grinding and of the assembly of great telescopes. Haedorial handed it to Mallon: this would definitely be valuable.
OUTSIDE THE ROYAL LIBRARY, AT THE SURFACE – 4:00 pm
Amrith cautiously eyed the surrounding area for signs of life. Earlier, he had hidden the tracks that they had left in the snow. The wily ranger also had some of the ohtari rhyn hold their mounts over by the Royal Hall in case a quick departure became necessary. The newly constructed wagon also sat there, slowly being loaded with books. Annael and Ostomir, who had just taken another load over there, approached Amrith.
"Anything going on?" asked Annael.
Amrith held up his hand. "Something is out there. I can feel it," he answered quietly.
Annael and Ostomir crouched down behind the pile of rubble being used by the ranger. They scanned around, but saw nothing. Amrith sniffed the chill air. "They're out there. Best one of you go tell Mallon. Evening will be approaching soon. They'll attack then." Annael left immediately to inform the others.
THE GALLERIES OF THE WEST – 4:12 pm
Mallon and Aerin stood admiring the blond wood paneling and floors. Elaborate scrollwork and engraved mithril further beautified the room and connecting chambers. Men had begun to gather the books from the shelves and stack them for transport back to the surface. Haedorial gasped. "By the Valar...this is the Ainulindalë and this...is the Quenta Silmarillion." He lovingly held the two ancient texts, written by elven hands in their ancient script. Haedorial was a learned man and the reading of Quenya, the language of the High Elves, was within his knowledge.
Suddenly, Annael could be heard calling down the hall. "Mallon! We are going to be attacked. Prepare yourselves!" He came running down past two ohtari rhyn who had been standing guard.
Mallon turned. "What? From whom?"
Annael shrugged. "Amrith told me to alert you, but I don't think he knows what is out there."
Aerin, overhearing this, cursed, "Damn, we need more time. We'll get these tomes up to the wagon and make preparations." Valandil and Mercatur picked up several books and began carrying them toward the surface.
Mercatur called back, "We'll stay topside to meet the attack."
Mallon nodded quickly and went back to cataloguing the texts. "We must hurry," he said nervously to Aerin.
OUTSIDE THE ROYAL LIBRARY, AT THE SURFACE – 4:35 pm
Mercatur, Valandil, and Annael had just finished piling the books in the wagon when they noticed the growing darkness around them. Several lanterns provided dim lighting in the area around the Royal Hall and the library. Amrith, Ostomir, Thangar, and others were hastily preparing a defense by piling rubble and stacking arrows. Mercatur and the rest hustled over to lend a hand.
Amrith was busy stringing rope along the line of rubble that was laid out in front of the library. "There are orcs out there. Perhaps a hundred or more."
Annael's eyes widened. "A hundred. What are we going to do?" he asked with some obvious worry.
Mercatur slapped him on the back. "We're going to kill 'em," he replied.
In the flickering lights of the lanterns, movement could clearly be seen in the snow. Ugly, fanged creatures advanced on their position. Many wielded jagged scimitars and a few held short bows. Valandil quickly unslung his composite bow while Mercatur drew a bead on one orc with his crossbow. He let a bolt fly and it pierced the dirty leather armor covering the beast. Snarling, the orc dropped his scimitar and fell over, clutching at the bolt protruding from his chest. Valandil and the others loosed arrows and several orcs fell.
Several arrows fell among the defenders, but none found a mark. Amrith continued to work on stringing the rope while another volley flew. Two ohtari rhyn manning the wagon began to drive away to preserve the books, while the two forces prepared to clash hand-to-hand.
A dozen more orcs fell to the flurry of bolts and arrows. One ohtari rhyn was hit by an arrow in the leg. The wound was not serious, but Amrith ordered him below. A number of orcs reached the rubble and hand weapons were drawn. Mercatur sliced the leg off of one orc and Valandil thrust another through the throat with the point of his sword. Annael and Thangar held their own as well, while the two knights of Tyrn Gorthad fought off four orcs. A handful of arrows felled three more of the beasts, but the fighting was becoming desperate around the rubble. To make matters worst, a number of trolls began advancing toward the library to bolster the attack.
The eight ohtari rhyn on the line began to fall back. Along with the four Cardolani foot soldiers, they formed a shield wall, hacking at any orc brave enough to advance. Mercatur cut down another with a swing of his axe, but more were pouring over the rubble barricades.
Valandil called to Amrith, "Whatever you are going to do, do it now!" Amrith nodded and yanked the rope. Along the rubble piles, a number of skins filled with kerosene burst into flame, showering orcs with flaming liquid. A score of orcs caught fire and writhed in the snow. Amrith leapt up and hacked at an attacker, while Thangar cut down yet another.
A stray arrow found the throat of one of the foot soldier and he collapsed into the snow, spraying blood from his wound. By now the trolls had arrived and Thangar's squire was crushed by the great club of one of the hill trolls. Thangar moved to save him, but two trolls and an orc blocked his way. Annael put an arrow into one troll, but it barely blinked. The other monster then proceeded to rend the fallen squire where he lay. His screams pierced the night air for some time.
Thangar cursed, but fell back, pursued by the orc and troll. Valandil jumped in and slashed the orc across the face. The beast screamed and fell, holding its eyes. The troll swung its club down on Valandil, who parried with his shield. Seeing an opportunity, Mercatur strode in and hewed the troll with his axe. The blade bit deeply into the creature and vile black blood gushed out. Following up, Valandil struck the troll in the leg while Thangar and Annael hacked at its body. Overwhelmed and Reeling, the giant monster fell backward into the bloody snow.
Ostomir fought valiantly alongside his squire. Nearly ten orcs and a troll lay before them, and they were in danger of being cut off. Amrith called to them. "This way! We must get back to the library!" Ostomir sliced another orc open, but took a cut along his arm. In the violence of the fray, two of the vile creatures leapt at the squire, who skewered one. The other orc grappled with the squire, bringing him down. Ostomir moved to help, but another troll stepped up to engage him. Two more beasts piled on the hapless squire and plunged daggers into his skull.
Ostomir stood, swinging bravely at the troll. The orcs, having finished the squire, got up and rushed him. Seeing the danger, Valandil and Mercatur ran to Ostomir and slew the orcs. They then grabbed the young Tinare lord, shouting, "We have to go! He's dead!" Ostomir cut the troll across the chest and then turned to join the two.
The library was in sight. Nearby, one ohtari rhyn was crushed by a troll before it was hacked to pieces by the shield wall. Reaching the library, Amrith pushed everyone through the doorway before collapsing some rubble into the entryway. Catching their breath, they took a role call: the two ohtari rhyn with the wagon had escaped; Thangar and Ostomir's squires were dead; one ohtari rhyn was dead and another wounded; and one foot soldier dead. Ostomir, Thangar, and Annael had received light wounds, but they were otherwise in good health. Forty orcs and perhaps three trolls lay slain outside, but the odds were still bad.
"There will be more where they came from and we can expect no reinforcements," said Amrith quietly.
Baranor nodded. "Aye, we best prepare a reception for them."
Baranor and three of the Royal Guards had created defenses inside the library leading to the staircases and they were ready for battle. Sounds could be heard outside of orcs and trolls digging out the rubble from the entryway. Baranor sat behind one of the piles of rubble with his bow. "Get ready to fall back to the lower level. I've created another line of defense," he told the others. His winged mithril helm reflected the light of nearby torches giving him the look of a Númenorean warrior of old.
Unexpectedly, the sounds of digging stopped outside. The defenders waited nervously, wondering what would come next. Suddenly, piercing the still night air was a single demonic voice crying out in an unidentifiable language. The rubble in the entryway began to tremble. Large stones crumbled into dust as the barricade disintegrated. Amrith blinked in awe. "Oh, this is bad," he said to himself. Visible now through the entryway was a horrid dog-faced monster. Amrith loosed an arrow at it, but it was deflected by some unseen force. Orcs poured through the opening.
Baranor fired an arrow, which sunk into an orc's chest up to the feathers. Mercatur popped another with a crossbow bolt. A few others fell to arrows, but the battle was joined. Giving a battle cry, Valandil and Ostomir clashed with five of the beasts, while the Cardolani Royal Guard took on six. The dog-faced creature strode in confidently and pointed his palm at one of the ohtari rhyn. Blood erupted from his nose and eyes and he fell, screaming. Thangar cut the throat of an orc, but was in turn stabbed in the arm. Chaos was everywhere.
Setting his defense in motion, Baranor kicked at several pillars, bringing heavy stones down upon the attackers. A number of orcs were crushed along with one troll. The dog-faced beast dove out of the way to avoid one of the stones and was showered by small rocks. Baranor clove the chest of another troll and shouted, "Fall back! We must retreat."
JUST OUTSIDE ANNÚMINAS – 4:50 pm
Ulgarin had heard the sound of fighting within the deserted city. She strained to see what was happening with her powerful elven eyes. The group she had procured to attack the emerging Arthedan and Cardolani group stood about. Ulgarin kicked some snow in fury. "Damn, they were supposed to wait. If we go in after them, we'll get caught in all the traps as well," she fumed. Grabbing a paunchy hireling, she raged. "Go over there and get them to fall back. I don't know what Ulduin thinks he is doing." The portly mercenary began jogging toward Annúminas. He got no more than fifty feet, when he was hit by a solid bolt of ice, which split his skull. Ulgarin gasped just as her world erupted in jagged shards if ice.
Suffering from multiple lacerations, Ulgarin fell backward. She could hear the screams of her thugs around her. The elf wiped the blood from her eyes and crawled behind a nearby snow mound. Scanning the snowy terrain, she spotted a woman dressed in white moving rapidly toward the ruined city. Ulgarin was too stunned to react and by the time her head cleared, the woman was gone. Of her force of twelve scoundrels, eight lay dead and three were badly injured. Ulgarin swore under her breath, "That wench will pay dearly." The elf grabbed her one remaining uninjured hireling. "Let's go!" she ordered. The man hesitated, pointing to the wounded. Ulgarin sneered, and with a wave of her hand the injured men burst into flame. The man's jaw fell open, but he reasoned that following her would be in his best interest.
WITHIN THE ROYAL LIBRARY – 4:55 pm
One by one, the defenders fled down the staircase, the flickering of the lanterns creating an eerie light. Baranor, Amrith, and Mercatur held off any orcs or trolls brave enough to press the attack. Through the confusion, Mallon came up the stairs to assist in the defense. Hurling a rock at an orc, Baranor called, "We are heavily outnumbered. We must fall back."
Mallon raised his fist and called upon Varda. Four of the vile beasts fell over, writhing in pain.
Slowly giving ground, Mercatur lopped the head off of one of them while Amrith impaled another with his sword. Baranor grabbed Amrith. "Get below!" he shouted, pushing the ranger roughly toward the staircase. Amrith took a few steps, turned and loosed one final arrow into a troll before he disappeared below.
Mercatur moved next. He feinted, fooling the troll into overextending itself, and then he sliced its belly open with his axe. As the troll doubled over, he ran down the staircase laughing. Baranor pushed Mallon back. "You're next!"
Mallon pushed right back. "This is my expedition. You go first!"
"There's no time to argue!" Baranor countered, slicing the arm off of another orc.
Mallon grabbed Baranor and flung him back toward the staircase. He channeled raw power through himself and focused on an advancing troll. Black blood began to erupt from the troll's eyes, nose, and mouth. In a frenzy, two orcs swung at Mallon, but a force caused them to miss. Then, the dog-faced creature peered from behind some rubble and pointed his finger at Mallon. A flash surrounded the Eketta Lord and when the light dissipated, he gasped as his ribs protruded from his chest. The front of his white surcoat was immediately stained red with blood. He staggered back and channeled what little power he had left.
"With my last breath I will stop you!" he cried.
Two unfortunate orcs were crushed by the channeled energy and collapsed in a heap. Baranor tried to advance to save Mallon, but a dozen attackers move to block him.
As Mallon Eketta looked up, the beasts fell on the dying nobleman and tore him to shreds.
Baranor fled down the staircase and out through the west door into the White Room. Aerin put a ward on the door as they sealed it. Baranor leaned up against the far wall and slid down to a sitting position. He shook his head wearily. "He's gone. We're trapped in here." Haedorial gasped and Kaile began to cry.
Valandil swore. "We'll make them pay. We'll fight room by room if we have to. We're not going down without a fight." Baranor and the other Royal Guards nodded in agreement.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
At the top of the staircase, Ulduin gathered the remnant of his force. Only half of his orcs remained while a third of his trolls had perished. He had sent a runner to summon Ulgarin and her reinforcements, but no one had yet returned. The dog-faced sorcerer called to his two thanes. "Burazog, Strulug, take a force down the staircase. Finish them off and gather up any books. I don't want any books harmed. Do I make myself clear?" The monstrous cave troll and the vicious Uruk chieftain nodded.
With a grunt, Strulug gathered a number of his depleted Urughâsh orcs and began heading down the staircase. Soon, a symbol at the base of the staircase glowed red. Ulduin tried to call out to warn Strulug, but it was too late. The symbol, placed by Mallon, erupted in flames. Smoke and fire leapt up to consume the orcs. Looking down, Ulduin stepped back amid the dust and flame that flew up. When the room had cleared, orcs could be seen below struggling or lying charred on the floor. In rage, Ulduin kicked over a frozen bookshelf.
This is not going as expected.
Strulug had survived, but seven of his force perished. Ulduin sighed. This problem would require some of his arcane power. He grabbed one of the orcs standing nearby and uttered a minor incantation. He shoved the whining beast over the ledge into the chaos below. The orc screamed, but to its amazement, it landed safely on two feet. Ulduin shook his head. "I should have known," he commented. He would need to do this for his entire force, depleting much of his sorcerous power.
NEAR THE STREET OF TERRACES, NORTH OF THE LIBRARY – 5:20 pm
The wagon sat behind a grove of evergreens, covered with torn cloth and other camouflage. Two ohtari rhyn stood warily in the darkness, anxiously listening for any sound.
"What do you think happened to everyone?" one asked with a whisper.
"How should I know? You saw as much as I did," replied the other.
"I think we should go back and check it out," voiced the first one again.
The second one shook his head. "Our orders are to get the books back safely. Besides, if they survived, don't you think they would have told us by now."
The first one balked. "Look, we have to see if they're still alive. They might need help."
Suddenly, a woman dressed in a white hooded cloak appeared out of nowhere. The two soldiers fell back in the snow. She appeared as a ghost in the dim light with her cloak and blonde hair whipping in the wind.
"Do not be afraid. I am here to help," she stated. The men rose, pointing their swords at the woman.
The second one said indignantly, "Don't be afraid? You scared us half to death. Who are you?"
The woman held up her hands, palms out. "I am sorry. My name is Silmarien; a mage by trade. I come from Tharbad and am friends with members of your group. You must trust me." The men were skeptical, but realized that if she were an enemy, she could have just killed them and taken the books. They nodded in unison. Silmarien went to the wagon and put an enchantment on it. To the amazement of the men, the wagon turned into a number of small pine trees.
One man slapped his own cheek. "Rogrog's teeth," he swore, "I've never seen this magic stuff before."
Silmarien smiled. "Don't worry. It's just an illusion."
With that, they headed south toward the library.