Chapter 16: Imtarumbar

Tirion sat by the pool, gazing into its depths for some sign of the apparition he was sure he had seen. Finally, he turned to Ordain, "Tell me, do you think it matters who's blood is given to the pool?"
Ordain shook his head to show he didn't know the answer to the tall elf's question.
Tirion turned thoughtful and wondered aloud, "Did the lady give all her blood to it? If it is of no matter who's blood is given, let us gather blood from the house itself. At the least, we could use blankets to soak up what the floor bleeds. Another option would be to chase down the remaining orcs. They cannot have gone far. But if the blood of the house is not sufficient, then together we could surely give the pool the blood it needs without any one of us being unduly harmed."
"Well, chasing down the Orcs sounds like a good idea to me," Fred said, volunteering his opinion. "Shedding their black blood won't make me loose any sleep nights."
"You didn't have to fight the last bunch," Ranciryon retorted.
"True," Fred agreed. "Well then, how about searching out the schoolroom? We know from Englorion's journal that that room does hold a key of sorts."
"But who knows where the school room is?" Kal piped in.
Ordain threw his opinion back into the verbal fray. "I think the pool could tell us."
"So, we're back to that point, are we?" Taurvantar noted. "Well, I like Tirion's idea of using the house's own blood. But, in the interest of discovery, and that in a timely manner, I don't have any objections about using my own blood for a time, as long at isn't too much."
"I think that between us, we can come up with enough. And then, after that, we can travel back to try out Tirion's suggestion about using the evil ichor of this manse and put it to a use of our own," Ranciryon said.
Taurvantar wasted no time and quickly set about making a small cut in his forearm. Fred winced but watched intensely as drops of blood dripped down into the pool, whose water sparkled and shined with each drop. Soon the shimmering waters glowed with pure power. They could feel it's cool radiance on their hands and faces.
"I think we need to ask it a question," Daern said.
Everyone paused, trying to think of what to ask. Taurvantar was just about to speak when Fred blurted in,
"Say, how are thing's going in the Shire?" he asked. "How's the ale holding up at the Green Dragon?"
Suddenly the shimmering popped out and as their eyes adjusted, they could see the interior of an inn somewhere. The crowd piled at the bar was mostly hobbits, but in the background a dwarven face or two could be espied.
Ranciryon twitched his nose. "I smell mutton," he whispered into Taurvantar's ear.
"The thing I were sayin," one of the hobbits said, poking a thick finger next to a flaxen haired hobbit next to him, "were tha one aren't tern feed a sow win none bu'tha bestn slop when she's sucklen."
"Oh my, I can hear them" Kal remarked.
"That's Kem Whittlesby," Fred pointed. "Why, I used to argue with him over many a pint there."
"Fred, you idiot!" Taurvantar yelled out at him. "What did you go and do that for?"
Fred looked up defensively "Well Daern said to ask it a question. So I did?"
"Hey Kem?" the hobbit sitting next to the pig farmer asked, all the while gazing up at the air, "Hey Kem, you erd sumun callin sumun an idiot?"
"Eh, was that?" Kem turned around. "What you sayin?"
"Oh by Manwë's ears," Daern gasped. "They can hear us!"
"Coarsin I ken `ere you." Kem answered. "Your'a sittin right there. How come you talked in tha funny voice though?"
"It werent' me," the observant hobbit protested.
"What's Eldo sayin?" the blond hobbit asked.
"`E's `earin voices," Kem scoffed, "An makin like `e's talkin in a funny voice."
"Hey Eldo?" Fred yelled into the pool. "Did Kem ever tell you about how he waters his hogs before he sells them to you at market? And how you were the only rube who never caught on to that one?"
"Whas that? Whas that?" Kem's jaw dropped down.
The blond hobbit piped in, a look of recognition on his face. "Ay, it sounded like tha queer hobbit who went ta live with dwarves and who came back `ere all full of queer notions. You know that one."
"Thas it! Thas it" Kem nodded. "Es Fred! Fred Underhill! Where you hidin Fred?" Kem said, looking down under the bar.
Eldo slapped the pig farmer on the shoulder. "Ay! Whas this `bout you waterin hogs then?"
Kem ignored him. "Fred lad, where is you? I ken `ear you but I can't see ya."
"I wan ta know `bout them hogs!" Eldo insisted.
"Oh come off it, Eldo old boy," Fred giggled into the pool. "That's the oldest trick in the book. Makes them weigh more when you buy them. You're the laughing stock of the North Farthing because you're the only one Kem can pull that one on."
"Fred!" Daern hissed, "They can hear you!"
"I know!" Fred laughed with merry glee, "Isn't it rich?!"
"Ay! Thas is Fred!" Eldo looked up. "An `e's talkin ta us from up thar some'ere." Eldo pointed up. "But ooh's at `issin?"
"Maybe he died on one o'his adventures" the blond hobbit added, his face starting to show fear, "An now he's a ghost talking ta us."
"`Ere, Fred me lad, is you dead?" Kem asked, looking up.
"Ooh you talkin ta?" a portly hobbit asked the trio, after walking up to check their glasses.
"Barnaby! Es Fred Underhill! `E's come back from tha dead ta talk to un'us," Eldo said, grabbing the tavern keeper by the shoulder.
"Wha?" Barnaby stared suspiciously at the trio. "`Ow many pints you `ad lads?"
"No! It's true!" the blond hobbit insisted. "Tell him, Kem!"
Kem turned his face back up to the ceiling. "Fred lad, go ahead and say sumim ta ole Barnaby `ere."
There was nothing but silence. Ordain jostled Fred's elbow but Fred shook his head, putting his finger to his lips, trying to suppress his laughter.
Barnaby looked at the three hobbits, scowling.
"Naw, es true, Barns!" Kem insisted, "We all `eard it. Es were Fred Underhill!"
"Whas true is tha you lads `ave `ad more ta drink than ya should. Now off ta home with ya!"
"But Barnaby!" all three protested at once.
"Naw!" Barnaby insisted, looking severe, "If'n you say another word an upset me other gists, than yer all banned from `ere a week. Now off with ya!"
The three of them stood there dumbfounded, but none of them dare say anything further. Finally, under the tavern keeper's stern eye, they got up and and grumbled their way to the door. Observing them, it was all Fred could do to keep from laughing.
"Ghosts!" Barnaby scoffed, starting to clean up after the trio.
"And what's wrong with us ghosts?" Fred said, trying to sound stern and not laugh anymore.
Barnaby stopped what he was doing and looked up, down and around. "Whas tha?" he finally said.
"Hey Barnaby?" Fred called out.
"Yeah?" the barkeep asked apprehensively, looking all around him with wide eyes.
"BOO!" Fred yelled loud enough for several of the hobbits at the bar to look up and see Barnaby running for the door.
After Fred calmed down, mostly from seeing the cross look on Taurvantar's eyes, he sniffled a bit and seeing that the tavern still remained in view, he commented, "Look at those ales." Reverently, he licked his lips. "They look real enough to taste." Before anyone could stop him, he reached out to grab one, but as his hand touched the water, the picture started to ripple and then it disappeared in the ripples, replaced by the glow from their own torches reflected off of its disturbed surface.
"Wouldn't you know it," Fred sighed, shaking the water from his hands.
"Well that was a waste of good blood," Taurvantar said, continuing to scowl.
"Well, I wouldn't call it exactly a waste," Fred said, trying to offer an appeasing smile. "It was good to see the lads again," he said.
Taurvantar nodded. "Well Fred, I think it's now your turn."
"What!" Fred's face paled. "Um, it's against my religion to give up any blood - especially hobbit blood. And as I'm a hobbit"
"Nevermind," Ranciryon told him. "I'll do it." Saying this, the Numenorean took off his chain shirt and exposing a broad forearm from underneath his arm, he made a diagonal cut, letting a stream of his blood flow into the pool. Enough blood entered the water that it seemed to explode with light.
"Now, what question should we ask?" This time, it was Ordain who voiced the question.
Fred was about to speak but Kal clamped a hand over his mouth.
"What about the schoolroom?" Tirion asked. "It's where most of us want to go."
Taurvantar looked at the baby, son of Lord Tarma held in Kal's arms.
"No," he shook his head. "How much longer can we continue to expose this innocent to the ravages of this place? Let us face facts, some of us will have to return the baby to his parents. If he stays with us, we only take the chance of dooming him to the fate of Englorion's party. I have a question for the waters."
"Say your question then, Taurvantar," Ranciryon nodded looking at everyone. Everyone else nodded to show that they agreed.
"Waters of the pool, show us the way to the mirroured portal through which this babe was stolen. If you can, show us how to get there."
The waters of the pool shimmered, burning brighter and then faded altogether. In its place, dimly lit they could see a room. There, full well reflected were their own faces, though they were not present in the room, but gazing through this other portal at the mirrour. It was a wondrous thing to look at it. It's framed surface was large enough to let a troll pass through with only a little hindrance. The frame was crafted of some silvery metal and worked to show clever castings of birds, trees, butterflies, even fish and toads - all manner of Yavanna's creation caught frozen in silver, with only jeweled eyes to gaze back out at the gazer. The mirrour, with their worn tired faces remained in view only a short time. Backing from it, the image passed through a door into a sharply twisted corridor, winding left and right for only a few turns before it passed through another doorway and they saw, in the waters, themselves standing in the small room.
Ranciryon was the first to speak.
"By Eru! The mirrour lies only a few steps distant from us. I passed it earlier and we passed it again on the way here!"
"Well, let us leave this place at once," Taurvantar said, "and find to some way to make the mirrour take Lord and Lady Tarma's child back to them."
It was at this point that the room cracked open and three persons fell rudely onto the floor through the ceiling above. Blinding light coming in from the foyer above them illuminated everything for an instant before the ceiling closed back up again to reveal nothing but naked stone.
Of the three, two were women and one was a man. The man and one of the women had the stern proud look of Ranciryon and Ordain's people. Judging by their height, they were obviously of Numenorean blood and were probably Dunedain. The other woman, less in stature but still handsome and strong had more of the look of the wild northmen in her, or possibly something of the secretive people of the great woodlands to the east. All appeared to have been injured, but seeing the party, they limped and prepared themselves for defence.
"I am Kirahan," the man spoke aloud. "Identify yourselves!"
"Brother Dunedain," Ordain advanced. "You and these women look injured. Here," he offered them one of the precious potions. "Take this and it will take away your pain."
"We touch nothing until I know who you are, where we are, and why you have brought us here!"
The shorter of the women walked forward. "Speak for yourself, man of the West. I am in pain and these people offer us kind help." So saying this, she smiled and took the potion and as the others watched, she drank a third.
Smiling, she put the stopper back in the vial and breathed in deeply, her face glowing with health. "Your magic is strong, stranger," she said, offering the vial to the other woman who glanced quickly at Kirahan before taking it and drinking it as well.
"I am Takenya," the first woman said, dancing on her feet to make sure they were well. "And I am grateful for your help, though I too wish to know why you have lured us here."
"Your coming was not of our doing," Tirion assured them, offering his hand to Kirahan in a friendly manner. Kirahan did not take it but looked at the elf suspiciously.
"Where do you come from elf?" he asked.
"I come from the sea people of Mithlond," Tirion told him, but of late I have dwelt in the place we call Imladris and which you call Rivendell."
The other woman had drunk her share of the potion and feeling very well indeed, she smiled and held it out to Kirahan. He did not take it from her so she walked forward and pressed it into his hand.
Addressing the others, she said, "I am Clarissa and I am," she paused as if thinking, "of Numenorean decent. I come in friendship and am glad to find good folk in this ancient place. Please accept my thanks, but I too wish to know why I have been brought here and who the young maiden in blue was, whose apparent distress led us to this place."
Tirion and Daern exchanged glances.
"Did you say the lady in blue?" Daern asked.
"Ay," Kirahan nodded, still holding his sword. "What has become of her? She accosted us on the road as we travelled to Fornost Erain. Beckoning us into the woods, she disappeared. Such was the look of distress upon her face that I felt compelled to follow."
"As did we all," Takenya added. "But the woods were thick with snow and choked branches and we soon became lost. The young girl appeared and we followed her, hoping to find a way out. When we broke through the woods, we espied the frozen carcasses of some dead horses by a ruined wall, beyond which was this huge mansion, of whose existence we have never heard."
"Our horses!" Ranciryon cursed. "Those damn orcs!"
"Orcs?" Kirahan said, at last finding concrete reason for his suspicions. "What orcs? And where?"
"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," Fred promised him.
Clarissa, wanting her voice to be heard as well, continued the tale.
"Beyond the wall, we saw that the maiden was gesturing us with great urgency and we ran up the steps and followed her inside the room. When we entered, she was gone but looking around we could see we were inside an entrance room. Two great portraits loomed down glowering upon us. One was of a great Numenorean warriour while the other, which we presumed to be his lady, had a great cruel dagger thrust in what would have been her heart. For some reason, I had a desire to extract the knife, to examine it better for it had a strange design, like a cruel rose. It even appeared to have dried blood upon it. But no sooner had I touched the blade then the floor gave way beneath us and we all found ourselves here."
Being their turn, members of the party stepped forward to explain their own tale.
(I'll omit this part and rely on you to send dialogue messages to the new party members, telling them of what has already transpired.)

After recounting tales, the mutual suspicions of both parties were put aside, at least for the moment. Better provisioned than those that had explored the mansion the last few days, Kirahan, Clarissa and Takenya shared their rations with the hungry travellers, who had only a few days before, been bold avengers ready to wreak revenge for the crimes they had seen.
Telling the newcomers of their plan, Taurvantar led everyone the way the mirrour had shown them, back to the first northerly door in the twisted passageway. It was locked, but Fred, for once, managed to pick it open. Venturing inside, the party was greeted by noxious odours that bit at the wet insides of their nostrils.
"Pah" Kirahan waved the air from in front of his face. "It smells like a week old battlefield."
Daern probed forward and using his torch, illuminated the long, but not overly large room. It measured ten paces by twenty. As he approached the far end, his torch illuminated a rich tapestry, showing a hunting scene. As he examined it closer, he saw that the quarry depicted in the scene were not game animals but rather men and women, depicted as being smaller than those that hunted them.
Fred meanwhile had traced the source of the stench to a wooden bucket, which lay on a table covered with urns, beakers, jars and globes of every sort, along with mortar and pestles and mixing bowls. Taking off the lid of the bucket, he peered inside.

The maggot ridden head of a man stared out at him from writhing eyeless sockets.

Fred slammed the lid on the bucket at once and grabbed his stomach, trying to contain his revulsion.
All the rest of the party assembled before the mirrour they had seen in the pool of water.
Daern, touching it's surface reverently, whispered, "Mithril."
The mirrour was worth a kingdom, even if it was after all only a plain mirrour. Ordain stepped forward, trying to ascertain how to make use of it.
"If I can make a suggestion," Tirion said, "since everything in this place is tied to blood or death, perhaps like the pool of water, this mirrour requires blood to work its magic."
Not liking the idea of more blood magic, Ordain nevertheless had to agree. Rolling up his sleeve, he made a small cut in his hand and wiped the hand over the mirrour until it's once glassy surface was smeared and murky with blood.
Nothing happened.
"Well, that was a"
"Quiet!" Ordain shouted to Fred, "Wait while I concentrate."
Everyone was silent for several minutes. Impatiently, Fred tried not to fidget too much as he danced from foot to foot. He stopped dancing when the blood on the mirrour disappeared. Instead, cast in the warm glows of the setting sun, a town lay in the distance, beyond some wooded hills, a large castle towered keep situated alongside the town. It was a handsome place as only the Dunedain could build and Fred remembered visiting it once, long ago when he had travelled with his adopted family.
"Tarmabar," he nodded. "I recognize it."
A cool breeze entered the room, freeing them for the moment from the effect of the evil place.
"It's time for you to go," Taurvantar nodded to Kal. "Travel well and take the babe back to his home. Warn them of this place so that they can guard themselves."
"Farewell," Kal nodded, his eyes bluring with water. Even as everyone bid him goodbye, he stepped through the mirrour. They could hear his feet crunching the dirt and rocks of the ground he walked. In his hands, he rocked young Tarma, soon to be reunited with his family.
"I'd best go too," Ordain bid them farewell, "I wish you all luck," he said as he left.
"Go with Eru," Dearn called out after him. "Perhaps he shall bring us together again."
Tirion was the next to leave. Wordlessly, he smiled with his ancient elven eyes and turned and walked through the portal.
"What about you, Ranciryon?" Taurvantar asked.
"I stay with you, Taurvantar," the Numenorean answered. "For I believe that we two are of a similar mind. Even if we leave for now, I think that one day we shall come back here and I will be with you when that day happens and this evil place is brought to a reckoning for what has happened here."
"Well," Taurvantar confessed, "I don't know that I've yet decided what I want to do."
"From, what you have told me, I wish no truck with this place," Kirahan announced. "I wish you all luck, but I am for going to Tarmabar." Though he said this, as he tried to walk through the mirrour, he found that it had turned solid once more. It's enchantment had faded and so was the image of their departing questfellows.
The last image they had of them was Tirion, Kal and Ordain turning to wave goodbye, before they were gone and only Kirahan's shocked face stood regarding itself.
"Now what?" Fred asked.
"Fred," Daern said, "You surprise me. I would have thought you'd want to return with the others."
"After that mess I just caused at the Green Dragon, it would take me the rest of my life to convince Kem and the others that I wasn't really a ghost. Hobbits are a stubborn lot and they're very suspicious of hobbits who leave home. Besides," he shrugged, "it's too boring."
Without the breeze, the charnel smell had returned, reminding them that they were still in a place of danger. Judging the the setting sun that they had seen in the mirrour, they probably only had a few hours left before nightfall.
"Well, we can continue to explore this place," Ranciryon said.
"Or we can travel to anywhere in Endor," Clarissa pointed out. "Just think of it, we can travel to the great Greenwood forest, or to Minas Tirith, or anywhere we want." The suggestion of the power seemed exhilarating to her.
All of the assembled party each looked at her or his companions, trying to decide what course to take.
(Initiate dialogue and introductions amongst yourselves, deciding what you want to do with the party from here on out.)

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