4th Ringare - Inn of Greys.
I have left the company at last to seek solitude in which to write. We have
talked long this evening to little effect.
It is now 5 days since we left Meduseld, the Golden Hall of Edoras, yet the
journey to Minas Tirith is but half completed.
The hall was indeed a sight to behold, the golden roof glinting in the
sunlight, and the king that sits in the hall is its equal, strong and fair. Eomer
himself welcomed us to the Golden Hall, and it was he who introduced our odd
companion, the man, or should I say boy, called Moth.
I do not fully trust him, this "Moth". He is handsome enough, and
has a good clear voice. He dresses as would a scholar or a scribe, though his true
worth to our party is unknown. He is of the race of men, from Gondor I believe, and
men mature quicker, perhaps, than we dwarves, yet I doubt that he has lived fully
two decades. What wisdom can he have collected in that meagre time? Also he has yet
to give his real name or lineage: what does he hide?
He has a peculiar affectation. He wears worn leather gloves at almost all
times, yet they are not gauntlets and would give no defence in combat. I have
offered to repair the small tears in them yet the offer was refused. He wears no
armour, and carries no greater weapon than a plain wooden staff. There is clearly
more to him than meets the eye, but he is a riddle that may take some time to
unravel. It is clear that he is to be a long-term companion, however to what end is
Erethor also appears uncertain of our new companion. The Rohirrim have never
been book learned, their history is sung round the fire rather than being pinned to
the page, therefore being a scribe garners little respect. Also, I believe that,
like me, Erethor will judge whether a friend is worthy by his actions in the thick
of battle and at other crucial moments. I hope to be ageeably surprised should such
a situation arise, though the hopes are not great.
I am starting to understand the rider a little better. I think I judged too
swiftly at our first meeting. Eomer is Erethor's king and treats him as a great
man, almost an equal. And I have been charged with this mans protection. A rider of
Rohan that requires a Dwarven guard and a scribe from the white city must be worthy
of great respect. I do not approve of his choice of weapon, yet he is most skilled
in its use. I have seen him take conies and hares with ease, loosing arrows from
the saddle as he rides.
Eomer presented me with a pony of Halfling stock on the morning that we
departed from Edoras. He is a fine beast, named Jack, yet he is no warhorse, and to
wield a weapon whilst in the saddle would involve letting go of the reins with at
least one hand. I do not believe that my balance has yet reached that proficiency.
I think that Erethor finds my predicament amusing. Erethor's horse seems to
react to his masters thought rather than any instruction, spoken or
Eomer was in a good mood that day in the Golden Hall, full of joy and mirth.
He is a fine king. Moth and Erethor seemed uncomfortable and knew not whether to
laugh at his jests. I can see that the king is still a man, and laughed loudly with
him. Eomer requested that I tell a tale while we feasted. Not a task that any Dwarf
would take lightly. I decided after some consideration to tell a tale of Khazad-dum
at its height, before the dark times, when the great realm of the Dwarrowdelf shone
with the captured light of sun, moon and star. I was not fully prepared and
faltered at times, yet the story seemed to be appreciated. Erethor told a tale of
ancient days, a legend from the time when the Rohirrim came from the North to
settle in the grasslands that are now their home. Moth told a tale also, and he
told it well. I cannot remember the twists and turns of the plot, but it was a
merry tale, full of laughter and intrigue, and deeds both good and bad, great and
small. Maybe I have misjudged Moth also. He came alive when he had an audience, and
his eyes seemed to sparkle in the hall's firelight. After his performance for
Eomer the Thain, I would not be surprised if he were an actor or a bard. Still, all
will be made clear in time, of that I am certain.
That night at Edoras saw much confusion. At first we thought that Moth was
present to prepare Erethor for his meeting with King Aragorn, there being no other
clear reason to come and meet us prior to our arrival at Minas Tirith. Yet this was
not to be the case. Moth has no more information concerning our assignment than we
do. He had been asked to meet us and accompany us to Minas Tirith where, to our
knowledge, we are to be presented to the King. Aragorn himself will lay a task upon
us all, and thus companions we may be for some time.
Tonight we lodge at the Inn of Greys. The inn is most comfortable, and the
ale I have tasted above average for a 'man'made brew. Erethor does not seem
to be completely at ease in any inn, and I would guess that it is the result of
having spent many nights under the stars with only the wind in the grass and his
horse for company. He rises early every day to tend to his beast and have it
commiserate with him, that he has had to sleep in a stuffy dormitory, and not
surrounded by the clean smell of stable hay.
Though we three have talked a great deal, very little is yet clear. There are
many questions that still await answers.
It is 10 days to Minas Tirith according to Moth. He has just travelled the
route. Query - 20 days travel from Minas Tirith to Edoras and back just to greet us
and to receive a horse?
Why have we been chosen?
What is so special about this rider that he is treated with such
What will be the task laid before us?
And why are two warriors to travel with a charismatic, yet enigmatic, book
I am looking forward to seeing the renowned white city for the first time.
There I may receive answers. Yet answers or no, I will still follow the path and
attempt any quest that King Aragorn and Aule may place before me.