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Lord Anglachelm Rescued!
Parnard / Jul 07, 2014
There was a time when the Lord of Bar-En-Vanimar was captured, leaving the ancient and powerful Bar-en-Vanimar without a head.
It was hoped that a sufficiently numerous force would thus be raised and would, by one determined effort, chase after and recover the Lord Anglachelm. The people of Bar-en-Vanimar nobly responded to Lord Veryacano’s summons, and entered into his plans with great celerity.
Lord Veryacano took command of the search effort, and called out the whole of the Order of the Hammer, and put the rest of the volunteers into groups, and it may seem odd to some that there were a few present that were not well-versed in the use of swords or other arms, but such was the strength of Lord Veryacano’s compelling speech, and indeed, it was highly gratifying to observe so many turn out, and see the unity and good feeling evinced by all who wished to see Lord Anglachelm returned.
Having staked the whole of the fortune of the Household thusly, Lord Veryacano rushed his companions out of the Valley with every symptom of desperation. It is not to be wondered at, for the odds were so clearly against us finding Lord Anglachelm; yet everyone placed the utmost confidence in Lord Veryacano’s leadership. Nothing could stop him; indeed, he fearlessly pushed on, despite the efforts of Dun-Men to confuse and thwart his course, or the commands of chieftains of Men, and, as was shown in the courses of the days to come, despite good sense or consideration of what would happen, but these are the habits of desperation.
Our journey was commenced in earnest, and continued during a time of more than two months, with all the zeal to be expected of such a hardy set of travelers, and with as much speed as the nature of the country, which was full of savage men, tall mountains, and wide stretching plains of grass, would permit. And during all that time, such was the lenity of our fortunes, that we met not a single adventure worth recording; though I cannot refrain from mentioning that I fell into a bear-trap, and almost died to poison, after discovering a savage orc ambusher stealthily making his way through the Gravewood. But my discomfort and fear was only momentary; soon I was reunited with valiant friends, the offending orc was dispatched, and the dark forest that contained the detestable trap was soon out of sight, as Lord Veryacano urged us forward. He marched on, unyielding and deaf to all persuasions, and did not relax his speed for about a hundred leagues. Toward the end of the first month, we had some hard days of travel, and nothing but piercing harsh winds and storms as we crossed the mountains.
Everyone marched along quickly, all carrying bags laden with provisions: heavy at first, but growing lighter much too soon, as we traveled further from the Valley. It is said that ‘when things are at the worst they begin to mend,’ and certainly it did appear this way, when the Hammer Lord determined to meet his foes, and die sword in hand. With few provisions, without shelter or horses, the fires of his courage flamed brighter than ever. He refused to give up, and instead of plunging into the deeper wilderness, quite cleverly, he marched us deep into the heart of the country of the Horse-lords, where we did allow ourselves to be taken captive.
A consultation was held betwixt the Lord Veryacano and a noble of the Horse-Lords, but we could obtain no food or other help, it being difficult for the men to obtain provisions for themselves, as they were at war with the Enemy, and with themselves: the heir to the throne had perished, and there was confusion of his death, and of the orders of the King’s counsellor. Rebellion fomented amongst these Men, and some were led to disobedience. Therefore we were permitted to leave; doubtless it was not what the King’s counsellor wished.
Nevertheless, by the indulgence of the Horse-Men we were able to take to our heels, though we had a promise extracted that we would never set foot in their lands again. We had not gone far, when we changed our course, for our quarry was elusive as it was wily, and skulked from one place to another, or hid itself in deep woods by day, to come out again when the dusk made it possible for it to bear the sunlight. At last, we saw a thin trail of smoke, and coming swiftly up, saw the stark signs of battle, and, following the signs which seemed to indicate the hunted had escaped, changed our course northward, for the country of the Green-elves.
Our route was somewhat wayward, with on one side of the trail a jungle of swamp-lands, and on the other side, dark woods, defiled by the Enemy, and all caution was necessary when we neared the Tower of the Necromancer, and saw the first straggling fortresses spread around its feet, and many fortifications built into the foot of the hill; and, lo! swinging high in a gibbet we discovered Belethoriel, who, after we rescued him from his cage, pointed out the place where Lord Anglachelm was held.
Lord Veryacano led the charge, and the guards were dispatched, and others rushing to their aid were quickly overcome, and driven from one archway to another, until the middle of the gatehouse was reached, where the men stood ground. They entertained us with a fierce fight, but were pushed up, or off, the stairs, and by the great resolution and courage of the Lords Veryacano and Tindir, we charged up the stairs. And, at the very top of the fortress, under the light of the waning moon, we saw gathered a group of red-robed Men and remnants of the band of yrch that we had pursued for so long through the wilderness.
I would give an description of the battle, but the fighting was thick, and the stairs leading up to the place where Lord Anglachelm was kept were very tall and narrow. Suffice it to say we won without losing anyone, and indeed, we added one more to our soldiers’ ranks, when we freed Belethoriel. It was a very swift, and very bloody fight, and no doubt, it was the most brazen attack the Enemy had seen for many years. And it was generally observed as a remarkable chance, that Lord Veryacano directed his men to begin the assault just at the time that they did, for if he had waited but a day longer, Lord Anglachelm would surely have perished to the foul blade of the evil Sorcerer.
It was necessary to abandon our position to take refuge in a stealthy flight, not able to abide the field in the storm. The alarm was given, fear and confusion prevailed everywhere, and the slaughter was great: there was no mercy for Lord Anglachelm’s captors. The whole camp was thrown into a panic, and those that were not destroyed or much disabled, were unwilling to follow us, not knowing our number, and being unsure if more angry Elves lurked in the woods. We liberated Lord Anglachelm, and looking upon his maimed body, feared injuries past healing, but knowing every woodland path where we would be secure from spying eyes or slings of the Enemy, we were able to speed away, and arrive, a few hours later, at the edge of the woods controlled by the Malledhrim. Much wearied with the prolonged flight, being short on supplies, and carrying Lord Anglachelm over rough forest trails for miles, we reached Ost Galadh triumphant, but thoroughly exhausted and worn, and even Lord Veryacano found himself compelled to take a rest.
The next day, there were no signs of the Enemy, and no ambushes on the road either, despite the reputed numbers of the Enemy’s forces, estimated to be at least one thousand in number. We were able to get far away and cross the River into the Golden Wood.
Thus Lord Anglachelm was rescued, and if he is any changed at all by his experience, this writer cannot say, being not well-acquainted with his moods, but it is not the partiality of service which induces him to attest that Lord Anglachelm is the most virtuous being whom he has ever known, and his universal benevolence, profound sagacity, and unbounded generosity, cannot be estimated, nor it is possible to express the amount of joy and contentment generated by the recovery of his lordship with mere words. Very few have had the chance to experience such a happy ending from such a sad beginning, and fewer still keep through life with head and limbs intact, but such is the good fortune of the folk of Bar-en-Vanimar. There must be some special reason for it.