Ruins of Ost-in-Edhel

This city -- even now known among those who live nearby as the City of the Elves -- is the sort of place to make the superstitious avert their eyes and make a sign against evil. The remains of what was once a great metropolis lies desolate, great towers shattered and walls toppled. Only a few sections of its high walls still stand, crumbling slowly into dust, and few of the buildings within remain. The center of the city is naught but a great heap of broken stone and rubble, still blackened as though by a great fire. Yet even in ruin the place retains an eldritch beauty capable of inspiring awe and wonder.

Of the bare handful of towers still standing in the city, most lean dangerously as though ready to topple, and only one is not broken halfway up. This lone intact tower stands a lonely sentinel over desolation where once tens of thousands must have dwelt. A bleakness lingers in this place, unabated after millenia of wind and snow and rain; within the city walls, not even weeds or moss grow over the broken stones.

To the south there is a ford over the deep, swift-moving Glanduin where the pilons of an old bridge still endure. A stream -- once known as the Sirannon -- enters the ruins from the northeast and joins the Glanduin near the site of the old bridge.

Contents
Nauthcel
Obvious exits:
 Northeast leads 24 miles E.
 North leads 24 miles N.
 East leads 87 miles E.
 West leads 40 miles W.
 Other exits: Southeast

Over the horizon of Arda, Anor slowly begins to climb, making her daily ascent into the sky. As the golden beams lance out over the land smiting darkness, both bird and beast awaken coming forth from their dwellings. And, even in the abandoned dwelling of Ost-in-Edhel a being comes forth. Nauthcel appears in the center of the desolate city from one of the many damaged towers. His ashen gaze passes over the ruins, appearing to be searching for someone.

That search might not take so long after all, for even as the Ranger's eyes dart hither and thither they likely will pick out a dark shape amidst the long shadows. A figure melts into view, hooded and cloaked to hide away all traces of identity save one; the scabbard that hangs at his belt.

"Hail, brother," says a smiling voice from beneath the cowl. "You are a finer tracker than most."

As the figure comes into view, Nauthcel bows low, giving respect to the masked man. "You give me too much credit, brother, for I had only to look for the right signs." Nauthcel lets a grin curve his lips as he stands up-right. "Yet, my lord, I seek you out to ask for leave." The grey eyes remain set on the hooded Chieftain, awaiting his reply.

The other's hands rise to draw back his cowl, revealing a gaze as grey as Nauthcel's own; though perhaps a touch more care-worn. Aragorn, Chieftain of the Dunedain chuckles to his kinsman and shakes free his raven locks of the cloth of the hood.

"Straight to the point, as ever Nauthcel," he smiles on. "But ere we talk of leave, first tell me how you fare? It is many months since I saw my dear friend the Constant."

"I have fared well though have spent more time in the hospitality of Elrond than that of the forest." There is a pause after the words of the Constant as thought passes behind his aged gaze. "Yet, one could say that for such reason I have sought you out. I wish to go on a journey in search of wisdom though I shall pass through many perils. But, let me not forget to ask how you have been doing."

The smile fades gently from the Chieftain's lips and he sniffs to himself ere answering. "I too have fared well enough," says he, "though I fear my lodgings have been less pleasant. The mountains are perilous once more, despite the efforts of the folk of Grimbeorn. I had hoped to find a safer path for men to travel through them, but could not find one. The High Pass is still our only route to Mirkwood and beyond."

Pausing then, Aragorn lets his eyes, almost silver as the dawn catches them roam over his fellow Ranger. "Wisdom you say? If that is what you seek, then I wonder at you leaving Imladris. Is that all you seek to find? Tell me, my friend."

There is long silence as Nauthcel passes into thought. As his speaks, slowly do his words come. "I seek wisdom that the annals of Rivendell lack but the libraries of Gondor do not. I wish to travel to Minas Tirith that I may learn more as to the evils that have befallen Eriador." After another long moment of quiet, the Constant says, "I also wish to gain more knowledge of the world beyond the Misty Mountains, to learn of the Enemy's doings."

"You will find plenty of them," nods Aragorn, though he seems not pleased by it. "His hand is guiding more than perhaps we thought, or so I deem. I would not send a brother of mine alone to face his designs. Though you speak truly in that the White City has much to teach a man. I myself learned a great deal serving beside the soldiers of Gondor; not least of courage and honour, as well as lore."

"What kindles this desire so suddenly Nauthcel?" asks the Chieftain then. "I do not doubt your heart for even the blink of an eye, but it seems a strange wish that I have not perceived in you before."

"In Imladris, I read much about our past - of glory and triumph, valor and honor. But, while the libraries of the Valley may contain lore, it is mainly of the Eldar race and their doings. If I wish to find knowledge of our own people, it shall exist in the hands of our kin. I sense there is knowledge that we lack that may be of a greater asset to us than we realize." Nauthcel's gaze no longer focuses on Aragorn but turns towards the East. "Even though the Gondorian people will not know, the North and South Kingdoms shall be reunited for a time."

The Chieftain studies Nauthcel for long moments; his gaze lingering most upon the Ranger's face. "That is, of course, the hope of us all, brother. But I can tell you this at least: it is a dream dearer to my heart that perhaps any other who lives save one, and I have sought out all that might aid us. I did not find all that I expected. But other things revealed themselves to me, and for that I was glad. Perhaps you should undertake this quest of yours after all. But why do you look East when you speak of this? I have rarely known a man's gaze to stray idly with no purpose, even if he is not readily aware of it."

Nauthcel's gaze returns to the Chieftain as he answers, "For I know not what will occur whence I pass beyond the mountains. I have traveled in that direction as far as Lothlorien but no farther." A faint grin curves the lips of the Constant as he remarks, "And one never knows what he may find even when upon a path that others have trod."

"That is the truth of it," agrees the other, and Aragorn too turns his gaze eastward. "And friends unlooked for have a way of appearing when there is need. For all the Enemy's schemes, he has not sullied all lands or kindreds beyond hope. Trust to that, at least as you wander, for I have found it to be so. When shall you set out, and what road will you take after crossing the peaks? I can offer no small advice on the choice, if you wish it."

"Advice is always welcome, especially from those who have traveled the road themselves," Nauthcel responds. After a moment's pause he answers the inquiry, "I plan on making for the Golden Wood. From there, I shall travel south towards Rohan that I might enter into the Ithilien woods unnoticed." After a moment of contemplation, the Constant says, "And I shall set out once I have your leave."

Aragorn does not reply at first; rather he rubs his hands together for a spot of warmth ere glancing about him. Choosing a small piece of masonry that has stood the test of time he seats himself and leans back almost wearily. "To be honest, my friend, I am loathe to give it -- Eriador will not watch itself. The Captain will prove equal to the task, as ever, but I grieve for burdening him with the loss of a fine man's aid."

Sighing then he gazes around anew at the ruined city and when he speaks next it is in a distant tone; as if he is picturing another place altogether. "We spread ourselves too thin at times, Nauthcel, and there is the chance that our vigil suffers for it."

Nauthcel nods slowly at the words of the lord before he answers, "You speak too truly Aragorn but there are many places in this world that need aid. And, if need for my assistance becomes great, mayhap the great Eagles shall assist you in your plight to summon me." Going silent but a moment, the Constant says solemnly, "I do not abandon Eriador in its time of need but go that I may be of greater help when I return."

This brings a smile to the Chieftain and he nods as he looks to the Constant. "I did not suggest that you were forgetting your duty, nor did I think it. And I will not argue with the prospect of you learning much that is of value. Tell me, what news then from our lands? Convince me that Halbarad can spare you for a time."

"Halbarad has proven himself to be a great marksman, best among both elves and men. I am also certain that the Imladhrim will assist in the Trollshaws as they had done before the Bardic Congress." With a soft humming, Nauthcel thoughtfully comments, "Since the yrch presence some time ago, the lands have not been as dangerous. Mayhap on my travels I shall find the answer to that question as well."

Once more, long moments slip by in thoughtful silence as Aragorn watches the other, and at length he bows his head. "Perhaps you shall, and in solving that riddle perhaps you shall answer others that are troubling me. Very well, my old friend, you have my leave to do this thing. But camp with me this evening, so that we might speak of gentler things, and perhaps I might enamour you of the habit I picked up from Mithrandir."

He chuckles, and from inside his cloak he fetches forth a small pouch and a pipe. "If nothing else, it brings fair memories of our home to mind when in distant lands. And in the morning, we shall choose a path eastward that will suit you best."

Nauthcel gives a grin at the idea of the Chieftain though he does not draw forth a pipe but begins to sing. His melody is soft yet holds merry tones that aid in greeting the new morn. He seats himself across from the Lord and enjoys the company of the kin.

And so the morning passes into day, and later into evening; a thin plume of smoke from a camp fire rising above the ancient city as night eventually sets in.