Aglahad and the Dead City (In Tharbad: Volume Three)

1

"Mithrandir!" I called out and Aglahad turned to me questioningly.

The old Wizard squinted at me before recognition dawned. "Mae govannen, Siriondil," he croaked, and for the first time I noted how haggard he looked. There was a wild look in his eyes and his grey hair was dusty and dishevelled. His robes were filthy and torn in places.

"Of all the fortunate things," I said. "Come, sit by the fire."

Mithrandir nodded and tried a smile before turning and pushing the door shut. Aglahad started to protest but I gently grasped his elbow and we lowered our weapons. Mithrandir half-staggered across to our camp and produced his pipe from the folds of his robes. He threw his hat onto the ground next to a flat rock and sat down. He reached towards the fire, pulling a glowing spill up to his pipe with a trembling hand.

"You look weary," I said as I took the spill from him. "What news from Moria?"

He glared at me for a moment. "Why are you here, Siriondil?"

Aglahad shifted in his seat. "I could ask the same of you, old man."

The Wizard glanced at Aglahad through a cloud of bronzed smoke. I glared at the boy but my admonishment was lost on him.

"Mithrandir, this is Aglahad, heir to the fiefdom of Dol Amroth."

"Aglahad. Well met. It is many years since I last saw your city. I knew your grandfather. Or was it your great-grandfather?" The Wizard tucked a loose lock of hair behind his ear.

Aglahad turned to me. "Who is this?"

"Mithrandir." I marvelled at the thought that in the last ten years I had not mentioned the Wizard to the boy. "Gandalf."

"Gandalf," the Wizard confirmed.

"It must be nigh on two hundred years since last our paths crossed."

"Too long."

"Well," said Aglahad, "I am glad that two old friends have had the chance to catch up but I am afraid we have pressing business."

"Oh?" said Mithrandir.

"In Moria. We – I was sent by my father to survey the ruins."

"Were you?"

"I was. And we have been here all day trying to open the door."

"Have you?"

"It is fortuitous that we encountered you at this moment."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Mithrandir said behind another cloud of smoke. "But why would the Prince of Dol Amroth need a map of the Dwarrowdelf?"

"He has business with – that is my own affair."

"There are many hidden treasures to be found in Moria, indeed. Even after three hundred years of occupation by orcs."

"But the orcs are in the east, I have been told."

"Moria is infested with orcs, from east to west. Do I look as though I spent three days strolling through the ruins, admiring the stonework, the sheer majesty of the place? I barely escaped with my life."

"Then why did you venture there?" I said

"I too am on an errand, Siriondil. I seek Thrain, King of Durin's Folk. He has been missing these past five years. Have you seen him?"

"We have seen no one since leaving Tharbad, two days since."

"Then it is as I feared." He rose and took up his staff.

"But stay, Mithrandir. Help us."

"I cannot help you if wish to enter Moria. If I could, I would not let you pass." He thumbed his pipe and hid it in his robes. "Enter Moria only if you want to die." He took up his hat, straightened up and turned towards the north.

"Mithrandir," I called out. "May I speak with you alone?"

Aglahad stared at me, his brow knotted. I stood and followed the Wizard as he walked towards the Sirannon. We continued walking northward, the roar of the river growing.

"You must forgive my ward, Mithrandir. He is young and impetuous. He has little knowledge of the world beyond Belfalas. But he is eager to learn. He seeks adventure and riches but he would also enrich his mind."

"A noble sentiment. But this boy is the issue of a long line of feckless, prodigal overlords, the heir to a once noble house, which now languishes on the edge of the world."

The Wizard's outburst shocked me. I had never before heard him speak so disrespectfully of any of the houses of Gondor. "If you would but guide us through the mines to the edge of the city, I would be –"

"Have you not heard me, Siriondil?" His voice was now raised and I glanced back towards the camp, fearful that Aglahad might hear. "Or has your mind been dulled by the company you keep these days?"

I bowed my head at that; Mithrandir had always been good at interpreting a situation within moments. But then his voice softened.

"Forgive me, Siriondil. I have not met a friendly face for almost a year and my manners have suffered." He stepped closer to me and grasped my arm. "The rumours are true. A Balrog has awoken in the deeps of Moria. I have seen it. Not with an army would I re-enter the mines." He began to walk away but then paused and turned. "If your ward seeks adventure and riches, he would do well to seek out the ancient cities in the Blue Mountains."

"Belegost and Nogrod? Surely, they are piles of stone, accessible to no one."

"I am told there are ways into Belegost. Although, as you say, Nogrod is utterly ruined." Again, he turned and walked off along the river. "Ride west, Siriondil." He held up his arm and gave a little wave. "Ride west!"