5th Day of Fireseek, 565 CY
The Brass Dragon Inn, Furyondy
They appeared back in the Tall Tales Room. Elrohir was glad Aslan had known instinctively where to go. He spun out of the paladin's grip, nearly losing his balance in the process. He recovered and then knelt down by the chest in the corner of the room.
Only then did he remember that Cygnus always kept the key with him.
He glanced up. From the wry expression on Aslan's face, it was obvious that the paladin was aware of that, too. Elrohir stood up again.
"Aslan," he asked, still breathing heavily from nerves, "Could you, in theory, polymorph into a fly, teleport into that chest, find the scroll, and teleport away with it?"
"Assuming that his Talent is no greater than mine is a risk, Elrohir. But then again," the paladin mused, "assumptions are about all we have to go on at this point. To answer your question," Aslan's eyes snapped back to meet those of his friend, "yes."
Elrohir's gaze went back to the chest. His hand moved slowly to Gokasillion's hilt.
Aslan grabbed the ranger's arm. "Don't," warned. "I don't know exactly what warding spells Cygnus has placed on the chest, but I'm sure they're potent enough that any use of violence would be counterproductive. Besides, I'm pretty sure the scroll is still in there."
Elrohir glanced at him sharply. "How do you know that?"
The paladin shrugged. "If he knew the scroll was in the chest, why not just teleport away with the entire thing and work out the details at his leisure?"
"You said it yourself," the ranger countered. "We don't know exactly what warding spells are on that chest. Neither does Nodyath. He may have been afraid to touch it."
"Which means he'd use his helm to try and get some answers," the paladin responded, already moving towards the door to the common room. Elrohir was on his heels.
They opened the door and strode out into the common room. The barkeep looked up with some surprise. He'd obviously assumed the room had been empty. Aslan scanned the room. It was about half full. The "messenger," of course, was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't mean anything.
He could be anyone.
He said to Elrohir, "I'm going to check the upstairs. We need a headcount." The ranger nodded and started towards the front door of the inn.
"And watch out for flies!" Aslan called out after him. Elrohir turned around, looked at Aslan, then tapped the left pauldroon of his plate mail armor while looking off to the right. Then he turned back and gave a grim stare at Aslan before heading out the door. The gesture's meaning was clear.
We'd never feel one land. You of all people should know that, Aslan.
"Flies? Just check yer soup!" a drunken patron shouted. The room exploded in raucous laughter behind Aslan as he lumbered up the stairs.
Clouds covered the night sky. Elrohir would have liked to leave the main door to the inn open so that at least a little light would spill outside, but he knew it was too cold for that. He squinted, shivered, and started to walk slowly around, peering into the darkness. He heard a dog bark, and headed in that direction.
He found Tadoa, using his cloak to play a game of tug-of-war with Grock. He might have figured. Tadoa liked to spend as much time as possible with the animals. It seemed to have a soothing effect on he elven child whenever he was worried.
Tadoa, of course, had seen the ranger approach. "Elrohir?" he called out, while swinging his cloak, now filthy and covered with teeth marks, back into position. "You're back so soon?" The elf put the pieces together before Elrohir could even speak. "You must have come back with Aslan. What's wrong?"
Elrohir filled him in. "We need to find Barahir, Caroline, and Thorin." Tadoa nodded and sprinted towards Aslan's house while Elrohir lumbered towards Argo's cabin.
Having heard his clanking approach, Caroline opened the door as Elrohir reached it. Inside behind her, he could see his son on the floor, trying to pull up the floorstones with a pointed stick. Elrohir brushed past Caroline, knelt down on the floor and pulled Barahir into his arms, ignoring his son's squeals of protest about his hard, metal armor. He could dimly hear Caroline's questions as he kept his eyes closed, fighting back the tears of relief, and drinking in the scent of his son. His son. Safe, at least for now.
Caroline's inquiries were becoming more frantic. Elrohir stood up and put both of his gauntleted hands on the young woman's shoulders. "Caroline, listen to me. Argo is okay. Everyone back at Willip is okay. But Nodyath is here, or at least he was. He's after that scroll we found in the dungeons underneath Amanthius' outpost, back on Rolex. And there's more," he took a deep breath and continued. "He has a magical helm, only instead of allowing its wearer to decipher foreign script, as mine does, his allows him to read the thoughts of another."
Caroline's face indicated her understanding. "But if that's the case, then he'd-"
"Exactly," finished Elrohir, scooping up his son into his arms again. "We need to regroup, Caroline. Stay close." She nodded and the three of them went outside.
One hour later, Elrohir, Caroline and Aslan were sitting quietly in the Tall Tales Room.
No one spoke. No one drank the glasses of wine in front of them. They were all together, but they were all alone in their grief.
Outside, they could still faintly hear the voice of Tadoa. The elf had not given up.
He continued to call out Thorin's name.