The Ettenmoors. Some call it the Ettendales. It is the land between the Trollshaws and Angmar, along the Misty Mountains. To the north lies Mount Gram, where Angmar’s forces keep swarming. To the west, Eriador and the Lone Lands, infected with Orcs already. To the east, the Misty Mountains spring up like a wall, its snowy peaks looking down on you. You could almost believe the heights were pitying you. And to the south…
“I ask to be named Tiri Daethor* of the Coldfells.”
Thendryt wasn’t used to kneeling. He shifted himself awkwardly and kept staring at the stone under him. Elisbeth remained quiet, but he felt her hand on his shoulder.
“We need out northern border better patrolled, I know the area better than most.” Thendryt said, his words hasteful. Still silence from his Tur.
“Let me reinforce it. Let me do what I do best!” Panic almost grabbed him. Let me do what I NEED to do. Let me have it, let me make them fear us. Let me make them fear ME.
“You certainly know how to ask that which will test my own strength. Elisbeth said, her voice low, with a hint of concern and fatigue. “And I cannot gainsay you Thendryt for I know you speak the truth. It is our weakest border… Our Warband, at least. It is not something I would ask of anyone lightly... Perhaps better that it is asked for.” She let her hand lift his chin up and softly guided Thendryt to his feet. She smiled at him. But this was no smile of joy. He saw pain in her face, even pity.
“The title and role will suit you well. I know you will do your best and I know you are most suited for the task.” Thendryt gave her a look of sincere appreciation.
“But with a new title must come a ceremony.”
“I’m tempted to run away and hide.” Thendryt said. Elisbeth let another smile touch her face, with the same hint of pain.
“Hide well, my Tiri Daethor…”
*Tiri Daethor, Watcher for Shadow, or simply Watcher
The Coldfells. The northern border of Elrond’s lands. Southern part of the Ettendales. Home to the fortress Glân Vraig, and the keeps Tirith Rhaw, and Ost Ringdyr. Thendryt had been in the Coldfells before, he knew it well.
“You remain Maethor because you took the Oath, and the Tûr believes in you. That is enough for me. A Commander adjusts for any weak link in his company. Your skills will never match my own, even though, for your kind, they are daunting.” Khalis eyed the large Man in front of him. “I have lived more years and fought more battles than you ever will. I rode in with the Lord of the Vale when he fled here, or so I am told.”
“I apologize for my limited time on this earth.” Thendryt said, glaring into Khalis’ eyes like his life depended on it. “I do not have centuries. I do not have thousands of years to wander this land, but don’t you dare use that against me Khalis!”
“Menfolk!” Khalis exclaimed. “You listen to the words I speak but not the meaning behind them!” Khalis put his finger on Thendryt’s chest. “If I thought you unworthy to be one of the Maethor you would be gone! If I thought you too weak to be a Maethor, you would be gone!” Khalis calmed down. “You remain, do you not? You are a symbol to your kind, Thendryt.”
“Don’t fool yourself.” Thendryt spewed. “I have no kind. I have been nothing but betrayed by my kind, and the only place I all home does not belong to me! And if you dare to think that I’d intentionally be the death of any of you, I’ll smash your face into the dirt!” Thendryt’s fist hit the table.
“Imladris is your home.” Khalis confirmed. “And you have a duty to it, and to Tûr Elisbeth. To her, you are an immovable mountain! And do not make threats you can’t live up to, Morson.”
“I may not be able to defeat you, Khalis. I’m not an idiot. But I might be able to actually smash your face into the dirt.” Thendryt grinned.
“That your idea of humour?” The Elf said, raising an eyebrow.
“Elves…” Moaned Thendryt and drank the last of his ale.
A moment passed. Thendryt looked placed both his fists on the table and looked down.
“I have to ask something.” He said. “A favour, of sorts. I’m going to ask for something. I’m going to ask Elisbeth for something.”
“New armour?”
Thendryt almost laughed.
“No. I want to head north. Further… North…”
“Alone?”
“Aye. I’m not content with patrolling the Trollshaws anymore.”
“If you are far to the north how will we reach you?”
“Not that far north, I’m talking about the Coldfells. Possibly the Ettendales.”
“Harsh lands.”
“Agreed.
“You wish to become a Watcher?”
“Yes. I’m asking you, because I want to know if you’ll support my request. I’m not going to lie to you, it’s a personal matter as much as anything else.”
“The decision lies with the Lady Elisbeth.” Khalis said, watching Thendryt. “But I will not oppose it.”
The Warhorn echoed across the fortress. It’s sound pure, and loud. Thendryt felt a shiver down his spine. He opened his eyes and took in the scenery. The Warband was standing around him, in a circle. Elisbeth, Osilivren, Khalis, Curundar, Lilleduil, Virthalion, Caleniel, and other members had all surrounded him. A crowd of soldiers were gathering around them. Elves, Men, even Dwarves.
“Welcome to Glân Vraig.” Elisbeth said, and smiled at Thendryt. Thendryt put his hands behind his back and lifted his head. “Here lie the northern lands that men refer to as, The Ettenmoors. It is not our usual place for holding ceremonies, however, there is good reason. These are the lands over which Thendryt will watch. They are dangerous lands.”
“Fitting for a dangerous Man…” Osilivren said to himself, and grinned.
“This ceremony we are about to hold is to honour Thendryt with the title of Watcher.” Elisbeth continued, ignoring the tall Elf. “Whenever any of the Maethor take upon themselves this title, the ceremony will be held at the gateway of the lands they are to guard over. It seems fitting.” Elisbeth smiled to herself for a moment before continuing. “The ceremony is an honour, but also a farewell. From this point on, the Watcher will be on constant patrol of this area. The watcher will only return to Imladris to offer up reports directly to myself, of if he’s summoned.” Elisbeth met Thendryt’s eyes. “Do you wish to take the oath of the Tiri Daethor?”
“If I may, lady Elisbeth, before the words are spoken.” Osilivren said, and stepped forward. Thendryt turned his head left to meet the Elf.
“You stand now among those who have sworn to stand together, or fall solitary into darkness.” He began, quoting the Warband Oath. “To ask leave from the hearth that is our vigil, to go beyond the wall of the watchful warden shield. It is not a random act.” The Elf grinned as he watched Thendryt. “You will miss the cauliflower stew before the end, surely.” Lilleduil blinked and face palmed at Osilivren, and the rest of the group seemed to share her emotions.
“But you go willingly.” Osilivren continued, seriousness returning to his speech. “And if all else is faded on the long watches to come, remember that you are not alone. We stood with you on this day.” The Elf lowered his voice to a whisper. “Be our eyes. Pierce the dark of night.”
The Elven soldiers around them bowed their heads at his words. For a moment, the only sounds was the torches around them.
“Thendryt Morson!” Khalis spoke loudly. Now is your last chance to turn away from the duty you have chosen to undertake. Is it your wish to take up the duty of the Tiri Daethor?”
“Captain.” Thendryt spoke, for the first time. “There’s no need for this. I made my choice long ago.”
“Then this is your time!” Khalis continued. “Thendryt Morson is the first to take up the duty of becoming one of the Tiri Daethor. So let us honour you in our own way. We shall begin."
As Khalis said the last words, the soldiers, who had now flooded the entire plaza to watch the ceremony, started banging their shields. Thendryt couldn’t make out who started it, but he was quite sure it had to be a Man. Even so, the Elves and Dwarves joined in shortly after. Khalis looked out over the crouds and then back at Thendryt.
Darkness gathers as the seasons come and go.
Darkness gathers as the seasons come and go.
Now, it is my time to stand watch at this house.
Now, it is my time to stand watch at this house.
I shall forsake all things, as I stand guard among the shadows.
I shall forsake all things, as I stand guard among the shadows.
No glory shall come to me as I stand sentinel, for I shall live and die at my post.
No glory shall come to me as I stand sentinel, for I shall live and die at my post.
For I am the light-bringer dwelling in the half-light, awaiting the call.
For I am the light-bringer dwelling in the half-light, awaiting the call.
My spear is the justice that shall ring out when called.
My spear is the justice that shall ring out when called.
My shield will hold firm and shall not falter.
My shield will hold firm and shall not falter.
My spirit will herald the dawn and bring hope to whose light is fading.
My spirit will herald the dawn and bring hope to whose light is fading.
I shall stand, Oath Bound and resolute, from this night. For I am Thendryt Morson, and this is my Oath of the Tiri Daethor.
I shall stand, Oath Bound and resolute, from this night. For I am Thendryt Morson, and this is my Oath of the Tiri Daethor.
Elisbeth raised her hand to end the Oath. And as one, the Warband uttered the ending.
“We hear your words, Tiri Daethor.”
An instant after, the soldiers uttered the same. The voices of several hundred echoed into the night.
“We hear your words, Tiri Daethor.”
