The Kinstrife

Part 62

In which we see Tûl Póac at dawn; our heroes spend a month planning and preparing before starting their trek across the Mirror of Fire; our heroes encounter the Great Oasis – a rift in the desert filled with verdant jungle – and encounter an ancient Elf in a marvellous tower, who proves generous with his gifts.

 

October 14th – Dawn

We enter Tûl Póac at dawn. It is a fortified town set in a striking position, on a huge granite outcrop dominating the utterly flat desert. The walls, 20’ high, sit down from the top of the plateau and are backfilled, the ramparts being more or less level with the plateau. The parapet walk is therefore a sort of promenade, circling the town. In places, the masons have cut the cliff to make it vertical with the wall is directly cemented to the rock, allowing the solid granite bedrock to support the walls in the event of siege. In fact to my eye the wall itself scarce seems necessary at these points.

 

The sole entrance to the city is a gate to the east, which must be a weakness in the design as a single, small force would be able to besiege the entire town at that gate. The only towers are those that flank this gate and both ends of the causeway to the citadel at the western end of the town, again a failing in the defensive scheme. Evidently military architecture isn’t as highly developed here as it is in Gondor. Perhaps the walls defend against more natural threats? Certainly Tûl Póac cannot have faced too many sieges or there would be more towers and several posterns.

 

The eastern quarter of the town just inside the gate is dedicated to hostelries for the considerable transient population: inns and caravan halls. The main street is the Tûlimi Strand, which passes the length of the town, through the gate and winds down the cliff to cut across the Mirror of Fire toward the Camel Road. A stream runs beside the paved road, emptying in to the River Chenacutt.

 

The artisan’s quarter occupies central Tûl Póac, including various entertainment venues. In the centre of the town the Tûlimi Strand crosses The Blade, Tûl Póac’s other major thoroughfare. Further west can be found the Assembly and various guildhalls and the western edge of the town has the most up-market residences, from which I conclude that the prevailing winds are westerly.

 

Most westerly of all, the citadel stands on its own rock apart from the town but joined by a triple-spanned stone bridge. This is the fortress and home of the Lord of the Póa. His palace is set in its own park adjoining a collection of highly elaborate buildings: the Library, the Armoury, the Chamber of Judgements, the Shrine and the Guards’ Hall.

 

We take our leave of Kuron, who intends to stay at a caravan hall. He recommends the Golden Tower as a suitable inn for a Gondorian noble. We thank him for conveying us so far and in return he thanks us effusively for helping defend against the Dust Devils.

 

We find the Golden Tower easily as it’s on the Tûlimi Strand. 2 rooms cost 3cr/night and our wind predictor indicates we’ll be here for a month. 90 crowns is a lot but the accommodation is very comfortable and the food excellent. It would cost ten times as much in Pelargir and frankly I think we could do with a little pampering before tackling the Mirror of Fire in earnest.

 

We spend the month in preparation. We already have our tents but our main concern will be water. We purchase a small cart to hold several barrels of water and a donkey to pull it. (I wanted camels but it seems they’re tricky to handle, Al-Han has no experience with them and finding anyone willing to enter the Mirror of Fire will be difficult – we want to maintain a low a profile as possible.)

 

Brand assures us that in métima langë (literally ‘the ultimate extreme’) he knows spells that can drive a well through the baked crust of the Mirror of Fire to reach the waters below. However, the infamous beast Razarac (‘the Destroyer’) has made a name for itself by slaying those digging wells.

 

Brand spends some time at the Library, conversing with a sage. The Razarac attacks at night. Descriptions vary but it sounds like a form of very large troll. Several accounts speak of a glowing red gem set in its breast but all these accounts are from survivors who ran for their lives – all those who fight the creature die. The thing has wings that, while insufficient to allow flight, enable it to leap several hundred yards at a time.

 

It sounds horrifying. Unlike Brand, I am no master of lore, but I have never heard of a troll with ‘wings’. The mention of a glowing gem puts me in mind of the Kuilëondo and my instincts tell me the thing is more likely to be of that ilk than any mere troll.

 

At the end of the month we have managed to avert much interest in our destination, spreading the fiction that we intend to skirt the Mirror of Fire by the Camel Road. It seems we’re helped in this by the general assumption that we could not possibly be intending to enter a place of certain death with so many potential pitfalls: the heat, the sandstorms, the dust devils and the Razarac.

 

November 15th – Dusk

We set out in to the Mirror of Fire by the light of the stars. The first night is easy as we travel by a well-made road that sees little traffic. Dust has covered it in a few places but since the Mirror of Fire is a stone desert such places are infrequent and we make very good time.

 

Shortly before dawn we pass a ruined settlement. There’s hardly anything left of the buildings and the well that was to be the focus of the staging post across the desert is filled with broken rubble. If the Razarac did this it would seem to have a definite method in mind beyond pure slaughter. This is not the action of a beast seeking prey.

 

We set camp at dawn but our unfamiliarity with our tents means we are exposed to the sun for some 20-30 minutes more than is wise and several of us, including me, take burns. We should have practised erecting the tents but it’s shocking how quickly sunrise happens in the desert and how quickly the sun’s rays scorch after the cool of the night. Tomorrow we must set camp a little earlier, on spying the first light of dawn. Thankfully Aerin has an ointment that alleviates the worst of the burns.

 

November 16th – 28th

Shortly after setting out, the road abruptly ends. From now on we must navigate by the stars using the Key to Fuinur’s Well. Ilviren and Brand really are in their own and lead us faultlessly across the harsh stone. We march entirely at night, Al-Han driving the cart. By day we rest within our tents with one person on watch outside under Sern’s cloak of sandworm hide.

 

It occurs to me that we should be grateful the Razarac attacks at night. A creature of much less power that attacked by day would be much worse. Only minor damage to our tents would quickly prove fatal in the incandescent rays of the Sun. I am not sure what purpose our lone sentry serves, since if he spied any aggressor there would be little to be done about it – we could hardly go outside to fight in the light of day.

 

November 29th

During the day I and a couple of the others, during our respective watches, notice something ahead, a shimmering haze that we’ve not seen the like of before. That evening, after a couple of hours march, we suddenly find ourselves at the edge of a rift – a canyon dropping vertically away in to the darkness. Luckily the Moon is almost full and by its light Ilviren and Brand spy a path to the north and taking this we descend in to the unknown.

 

Worryingly, dawn finds us just short of the bottom, still on this narrow road with no space to set out camp. For a dreadful moment we all fear the sun catching us so unprepared but thankfully the canyon walls protect us…

 

…And then the light of dawn reveals a verdant green valley spread out below us – a forest of the most luxuriantly exotic trees.

 

But we are all most astonished to see a slender tower of white stone rising from the trees. It must be close on half a mile in height, a thin white needle rising from the green of the trees. Further north we can see a lake of azure blue. The canyon itself must be 2-3 miles wide and longer north-south. Brand pronounces the tower as an example of Elven architecture of the early 2nd Age or even earlier.

 

In Tûl Póac Brand tried to find out as much as possible about the Mirror of Fire but no one has penetrated as deeply as we have for centuries, possibly millennia. However Brand did uncover several myths. One of those myths referred to a ‘golden tower’ inhabited by a beautiful maid of incredible power and wisdom – an Elf-maid?

 

November 30th

Obviously we want to make the tower our objective but we’ve been walking all night. I’m sure I could keep going but it would be unfair to inflict such durance on my companions and we have the donkey to think of too. We descend to the valley floor and clear a space among the trees, where we luxuriate in sleeping undu ilwë (literally ‘under sky’) down in the valley it remains cool, even when the Sun clears the eastern rim of the canyon, and it’s refreshing to leave the tents packed.

 

However, by early afternoon, although we’re not in danger of sunburn, the air has turned hot and sticky, making it difficult to sleep, so we rise early and begin hacking our way through the jungle. Luckily the tree canopy is very dense, restricting the undergrowth (as Brand points out, displaying his erudition for our delight) and we make fair progress. We rely on Ilviren’s sense of direction but we also find occasional remains of a paved road, which indicates we are on the right path.

 

There are definitely animals in this wood, though we see only the occasional glimpse of eyes in the gloom and a passing shadow. Brand, though, is in raptures over the variety of exotic flora. Several times we encounter a particular bloom apparently growing epiphytically (Brand’s word, not mine) on trees. It has a particularly rich and heady scent, strong enough to make you dizzy when you smell it.

 

But suddenly the heat and humidity get to me and I come over a little faint – a sensation I am utterly unused to. Brand, apparently concerned, asks me to repeat a tongue-twister in Quenya, one of those he had me practising when he was my tutor. To both our surprise, I can barely mumble incoherently. Aerin leads me away and sits me down as she examines me, muttering something about heat-stroke, and after a minute my mind starts to clear. But then Ilviren suddenly reels, stricken with a similar malady.

 

Ilviren had noticed the flower blooming close to where I had been taken ill and had evidently smelt deeply of its scent. Alerted now, Brand examines the flower and notices animal bones in the dirt around it. He pronounces it to be a carnivorous bloom that overcomes passing prey with its scent and then sends in rapidly growing tendrils to consume the dead or unconscious victims. It seems we must be careful to hold our breath when we see similar flowers. Luckily Ilviren and I make a full recovery within minutes but I hope there are not too many more such surprises in store for us.

 

We reach the tower at dusk to find a single pale-grey door with a doorknocker that seems utterly inadequate to alert the inhabitants but hopefully there will be a doorwarden just inside. Gazing up the half-mile height of the edifice, I hammer the knocker as loudly as possible and wait…and wait…and wait. I ring again…still nothing.

 

After ten minutes we’re shrugging and discussing where we can set the tents when suddenly the door opens to reveal an elderly, male Elf who greets us in a Quenya so archaic I have trouble following him. Aerin, Brand and I all return his greeting and introduce ourselves and our companions.

 

He turns out to be Forlindaal ‘with two A’s’. I find myself musing how long it must take for an Elf to become aged and it quickly becomes clear that Forlindaal is more than a little dotty. Evidently he lives alone but affirms that ‘solitude is conducive to study’. He is Noldorin, grey-eyed and silver-haired, though I wonder if his hair has turned that colour over the millennia from a formerly darker shade.

 

He shows us in to his ‘waiting room’, decorated with furniture constructed of a very pale wood, a seat running all round the curved outer wall. The room occupies perhaps a quarter of the ground floor with a central stair rising the length of the tower.

 

Forlindaal peers at us vaguely before wandering off to get ‘tea’. 15 minutes later he returns with teapot and cake on a tray. The tea is black, a Raj specialty – though Forlindaal can have no commerce with the Raj – and the cake tastes like nothing I have ever experienced before.

 

Forlindaal is some sort of sage. He asks ‘how is Númenor doing’? So I bring him up to date on the last 3-4,000 years of history, pícala (literally ‘reduced’). He then quizzes us long in to the night. Then around midnight, by my guess, he suddenly observes the late hour and invites us to stay, giving us any rooms we choose up to the 10th floor. He will ensure supper is available on the 4th. Our donkey and cart is already in his underground stables.

 

Before retiring, Forlindaal warns us not to leave the tower as there are animals that wander outside at night and some of them can be ‘excitable’ – that’s what he says, ‘excitable’!

 

The rooms prove to have closets of fresh clothes, which magically transform (according to Ilviren) if the first match does not suit, and wonderfully warm, scented baths.

 

Clean and refreshed, while we finish supper, Sern asks if I think Forlindaal is connected to the Well of Fuinur. I admit I don’t know but I wonder what induces a Noldorin sage to live so far from…anywhere? I turn in and find the quality of the beds matches the food, clothes and baths.

 

December 1st

We wake in the morning to find breakfast laid out in the 4th floor chamber. Forlindaal turns up mid-morning and looks surprised before apparently recalling with delight that he has guests.

 

Brands asks Forlindaal about Fuinur’s Well. He recalls Fuinur as ‘a nice chap, very friendly’. It seems Forlindaal visited him a couple of times while the Well was building.

 

Forlindaal is quite dotty. It seems he came out here because the valley is an absolutely unique environment in to which he has transplanted fauna and flora from all over Middle Earth, where by-and-large they live in equilibrium. I mention the carnivorous bloom and he seems delighted to hear of our encounter.

 

He talks of the Well being close to the fires of Ormal, the fallen Lamp of Arda which leads me to mention the Kuilëondo. He takes one look at the jewel and leads us up to his laboratory; this proves to be on the 63rd floor – we have to stop twice for meals!

 

Forlindaal examines the Kuilëondo using some spy-glass and concludes, to no one’s surprise, that it houses an evil spirit. It will be released if the jewel is destroyed and this may be accomplished in the fires of Ormal, though someone would have to get right in the heart of it and this will demand protection from Ormal’s fires. Once released, the spirit will be weak and it may be possible to ‘uncorporate’ it – I think he means kill it. Brand asks if this will involve physical or mental combat but Forlindaal doesn’t seem to comprehend the difference. However, I suspect the task will fall to me since I’m the best equipped to handle either.

 

Brand mentions that Sern has a cloak of sandworm hide and Forlindaal chirps an offer to produce copies of it for everyone and turns to his work with a will.

 

Since they can’t follow the conversation, Ilviren and Sern set out to explore the rest of the tower. They return that evening to report that most of the tower is full of Forlindaal’s copious ‘notes’ but that he also has vast stores of magical artefacts, weapons, armour and things beyond comprehension. Brand also reports that just about everything around us is magical.

 

Ilviren urges Brand to ask Forlindaal if we can ‘borrow’ any of these things that might aid our quest to destroy the Kuilëondo and retrieve the Karma of Aldarion from Fuinur’s Well.

 

December 5th

Forlindaal returns a few days later with cloaks similar to Sern’s and of identical function, save that they are one-use. He also has an interesting collection of bent metal hooks and wires for Sern that apparently may help him in opening locks. (Interestingly I don’t recall anyone telling Forlindaal of Sern’s predelictions that way.)

 

He gives Aerin a crystal vial filled with a clear liquid, which he says is four drops of a powerful healing-draft. Finally he produces a matching sword and shield. He says the virtue of the sword that it will always strike true and that of the shield that will always ward a blow. However Forlindaal says they have the flaw that both must be fed with blood.

 

Forlindaal explains their function and I reach for the sword. It seems a little blood is a small price to pay for the ability to deal a mortal blow to whatever we may find in the Well.

 

But then Ilviren observes that she has no use for the shield and asks for the sword. I hand it over but I’m not convinced this works well. Ilviren already has a fey-edged blade and I need something with greater bite than my rapier. Celegmaeg is my preferred weapon for duelling, when the ability to seize the initiative is crucial, but I have noticed that against many of our opponents Ilviren’s blows carry far more weight and I need something similar.

 

So all that remains is to see what Forlindaal would give a lawyer? (Perhaps he should have the shield, and another blade for Ilviren or myself?) Then we must venture forth in to the desert once more.

 

To do list:

Trek to Fuinur’s Well

Destroy the Kuilëondo

Retrieve the Karma of Aldarion

Keep accounts for money accruing while in Raj

Visit Minas Ithil – probably not going to happen now

Talk to the survivor of the 1st Mordor expedition before entering Mordor

Survey my estates and produce a plan to improve them – consider Pimm’s offer but be cautious