Dear Friends,
I hope this letter finds you well.
I appreciate that in my last letter I left you on somewhat of a cliff-hanger, however I found myself pressed for time. Despite my being a stranger in these parts, I have been quite busy. The people of Eriador are anything but dull.
Having found myself ashore and at the mercy of the Wildmen, I was held captive for three days and nights whilst they discussed my fate. I confess that I felt quite helpless, given the fatigue that befell me from my narrow escape from a watery grave. I nevertheless remained hopeful, and tried to gather as much strength as possible for whatever was to come.
The Chieftain approached with both a man and a woman at his side. He brought food and water, which was meagre but welcome all the same. They questioned me in westron, asking how I came to find myself upon their shores. I explained that my ship fell victim to the sea and my men were lost. They were not convinced. It was clear to me that I had to work harder to gain their trust, for until it was earned, I would not be set free.
They had taken from me my father’s sword; I was eager to see its return. I knew that the only way to escape my current predicament was to tell the truth; all of it. The Chieftain and his comrades came a second time, and I further explained that I was sent on a mission at the King’s behest. They did not know Gondor, at least not Pelargir. They were however interested in the mission and my purpose which I could not, or rather would not divulge. This angered the Chieftain, but he was not a man of violence. From what I observed of these Wildmen, they were a peaceful folk. Seldom did they carry weapons and seemed to concern themselves more with crops and farming. I knew that I had to convince them another way; but how?
On the fifth night I was visited again, this time by a man who introduced himself as Traehearn. He was the right-hand of the nameless Chieftain, a rather gruff individual who did not tolerate small-talk. He held my father’s sword before me, demanding to know more of my history. The sword in question is my most valued possession and I explained as much. He demanded more, so I obliged. I told him of my youth, how I was a lost orphan found at sea. I told him of my career as a soldier of Gondor which lead to becoming a Knight. I humoured him with the details of the defence of Pelargir during the war, which he seemed to take great interest in. But still, I denied him knowledge of my mission. There was a look of understanding in his eyes, for my tales seemed to spur something within him which made my being more relatable. Traehearn had undoubtedly seen war, his face was a map of old scars beneath his face paint. To my surprise, he threw my father’s sword at my feet and released my bonds. What happened next caught me by surprise.
Sword in hand, I followed Traehearn into a tent. There the Chieftain and his follows sat in a circle, as if waiting for my arrival. I stood at its centre, wondering what was expected of me. But it was Traehearn who answered as he swung a sword at my left flank which I narrowly evaded. There was cheering and jeering from the crowd as I, out of instinct, readied my stance. Whether or not this was a test, or a fight to the death, I did not know. All I knew was that I had no option but to fight.
I shall continue this tale in my next letter.
Earonohtar
