Putting the Pieces Together

When Alasdair regained consciousness he found himself in a mess of rubble a great length from the summit of Weathertop. Alasdair's head was throbbing and his vision blurred. He searched through his memory of the night prior. A blinding light. Klonodor...and Rellan. Rellan, the puppet master. Klonodor, though some variant of the ranger. Something else. A puppet possessed.

Alasdair felt cold air up against him, nuzzling his face. The smell of horse. Severin. Klonodor had left Alec's horse behind. How thoughtful of him, Alasdair thought to himself. It was a welcomed sight, however. Alec's body had suffered a tremendous blow. Rellan. Rellan, that bastard. He attacked me. Why?

“Severin, you beautiful...I cannot walk. We...must find...my son...if he still lives.”

Severin knelt down and Alasdair used whatever strength was left to straddle the horse, holding tightly onto Severin's reins. The descent down Weather Hills proved painful for the broken Alasdair. The light faded and darkness came over his eyes. In and out of consciousness. Waves of light then dark. In his dream state, visions of Klonodor the Possessed and Rellan trickled back into his mind. Naurearnor. He took his sword back. He slaughtered Conall and Kyran, the swell swords of Dale. Ulna and Duirmid – where were they? Klonodor was alive and seemed completely healed from the wounds he suffered at the Orc ambush in Eregion. Alive – but a shell of his former self. What was he now? Some demonic agent of Rellan?

“I have need of him,” Alasdair remembered Rellan saying in that sinister voice.

He had only encountered Rellan a handful of times. He knew the rumors of him. The Heretic. The outsider. The dark sorcerer. Alec held him in high regard, however. He was the man that saved the orphan Alec and raised him for a time. It was Rellan who used alchemy to forge Alec's sword. It was Rellan who was once a well-esteemed adviser to the Steward Ecthelion of Gondor. Those days were long gone. What is Rellan's angle in all this? It never seemed evident.

“Fa...ther...?” a frail voice said. “Father...”

Duirmid appeared from behind some brush. Duirmid, unsound as well, limped over to his father.

“My heart...rejoices to see your faces again, my son,” Alasdair said with great sincerity. “Where...has the healer gone? Where is Ulna?”

Duirmid was silent for a moment. “I woke up and the lady was tending to me. Her hands were glowing and a warmth came over my body. She told me that she did as much for as me as she could and I needed to give in to rest. She left moments after. No words were said. Just...gone.”

“The healer lived up to her name then. We can ask no more from her. Come, my boy. Ride with me. We make for Gondor.”

There was a pause.

“Alec will want to know what has transpired. Only he can put an end to the menace Rellan is about to unleash.”