Chapter 11
Return to Drarlorn
Captain Thardir and his small party of Gondorians and militia men reached Drarlorn by midmorning. A crowd had assembled on the edge of the village, eagerly awaiting news. Young children had been playing in the fields and they came running back with word of their arrival as soon as they spotted the soldiers.
Duruch found himself among the crowd, standing alongside Nostur and leaning on his cane. His fellow elder regarded the townsfolk with his one good eye and kept his hands clasped behind his back.
"Let us hope they have some good news," said Duruch, shielding his eyes from the blazing yellow sun as he gazed upstream. Reeds lined the riverbank and swayed in the rushing waters.
"They will. I am sure of it," replied Nostur. He nodded his head reassuringly.
The golden stalks of grain stood tall in the fields surrounding Drarlorn. Their heads would soon turn white and signal that they were ripe for the harvest. The land of Nurn had been fertile even under the dominion of Sauron, but after his demise, crop yields had increased dramatically, and every spring brought fresh abundance in amounts previously unseen.
Duruch realized now that material prosperity accounted for nothing in the face of personal loss. The days of hiding grain from their evil overseers to prevent starvation in the winter were over, but he would happily face starvation again if it meant he would get Velane back.
Duruch could only muster a forlorn smile at the words of Nostur. He had also suffered under the tyranny of Sauron and was well acquainted with hardship. Nostur had also been married once, years ago, but his wife had died from one of the many plagues that swept the land. Their shared suffering had drawn them closer together, forming a bond not easily broken.
A black banner with white tree appeared first, being carried in the arms of a tall Gondorian soldier with silver mail and bright helm mounted on horseback. A small number of soldiers followed behind. In the river, a long wooden boat with shallow draft cut through the water, filled with yellow and brown-clad militia men. The vessel had been hammered together with brute force rather than skill, but it was larger than most of the ships the villagers had constructed themselves.
A cheer went up from the few dozen who had gathered on the shore. Their noble defenders had returned and it was clear they had seen battle. The shouts from the crowd were quieted when they glimpsed the interior of the boats and saw brown blankets thrown over corpses. The militia men crewing the boat were grim faced.
Duruch's heart failed at the sight. He leaned on his cane and felt the gnarled, knobby end in his sweaty palm. He hoped against hope that Velane was not lying under those cloth blankets.
Soktun stood at the edge of the crowd, flanked by two of his militia. His face remained impassive and Duruch did not see any trace of emotion.
The Gondorians dismounted and led their horses by the bridle through the throng of people. The villagers looked up in awe to the tall soldiers from Minas Tirith, remembering that these warriors had freed them from the tyranny of Sauron seventeen years prior. Young boys drew as close as they dared, admiring the shining steel armor and black and white livery and deadly swords carried on their belts. Small girls peeked out from behind their mother's skirts.
Captain Thardir came to a stop in front of the wizened and bent form of Duruch. One hand held the reins of his horse; the other rested on his belt.
"Duruch," said Thardir with a nod.
"Captain Thardir, what news do you bring?" asked Duruch, gripping his cane tightly.
"We saw battle as you could probably tell and we suffered loss, but we did not recover any captives. We slew sixteen orcs, but lost five of our own," said Thardir.
"Sixteen?" asked Duruch, surprised at the large number. "How many orcs were there in total?"
"In truth, I do not know, but they outnumbered the forty-eight that we had. Fortunately, we prevailed and the enemy fled from us," answered Thardir. "Of the captives, we saw no sign," he added.
"What do you think happened to them?" asked Duruch, voice tinged with sadness. He winced as he said the words. The full implications of his daughter's fate hurt to contemplate and he dreaded Thardir's response, but a small part of him just wanted to know.
"Given that the enemy orcs have attacked us multiple times over just a few days and weeks, I do not believe they are traveling raiders or a random warband. They must have a lair within range of our villages here. With the aid of river travel, I am now convinced they reside in the Ash Mountains to the North. No other explanation will suffice," explained Thardir.
"But what will happen my daughter?" inquired Duruch. It was a futile question to ask, but there was nothing else he could do.
"I do not know," replied Thardir in a low voice. His hand moved up and scratched the beard clinging to his chin. "But for now the dead must be buried."
"Yes, we will see to that," interjected Nostur.
"When that is done, I would like to speak to the both of you…alone," said Thardir. His face looked tense and his skin was drawn tight over his cheekbones.
Duruch was puzzled by the request, but he saw no reason to refuse.
"As you wish, Captain," replied Duruch.
"What do you make of that?" asked Nostur after Captain Thardir had led his soldiers away.
"I was going to ask you the same thing, but there is something evil afoot; something sinister. There is more to our predicament than meets the eye. I can feel it in the air," said Duruch. He cleared his throat with a cough. "And Captain Thardir and Soktun do not see eye to eye. There is a squabble going on between them."
"Aye, they are not friends, it seems, but what does that have to do with the orcs?" asked Nostur.
"Many questions, but I do not have the answers. Perhaps Captain Thardir can provide them," said Duruch. He stood in silence, watching the villagers begin to unload the boat.
"We can hold the burials this afternoon. I'll assemble a party to dig the graves," said Nostur, following his gaze.
"We can call upon Captain Thardir after the evening meal then?" inquired Duruch. He rubbed his hands on the end of his cane.
"I will meet you at the mead hall and we can walk together. Should we call the other elders?" asked Nostur.
Duruch thought for a moment before answering. The sun shone down upon him, but the light seemed gray and distant. The murmuring from the villagers had diminished to a low hum as the identities of the slain were made known.
"No."