Beyond the Fords of Isen

Boromir and Co. III

As the group neared the village a sentry in the tower had spotted them. The man hurried down the rickety stairs, the wood groaning under his weight. Once he reached the ground the guard shouted to his comrades and announced a settlement wide alert. Boromir stopped and turned to his men, "Remember, no stops. Remove Gondor insignias." He said and then turned to Adalmaer who still rode beside him, "You say nothing. Understand?" his eyes narrowed. She nodded, a bit nervous and her heart picked up the pace.

Little by little the band came closer to the village. It was then that the riders noticed many armed men standing by the gate, their rough weapons drawn. "Halt!" A gruff, burly man demanded, stepping forward with his hand held out, "State your business." The man had a thick beard that was adorned by cheap silver rings. Boromir sat proud upon his horse, his head held slightly high, "We are travelers. We only wish to pass the river." He replied, his voice calm and smooth.

"And where is it that you're headed?" The burly man asked. Boromir shifted in the saddle, "North." Was his short response. The man didn't seem convinced, but he lowered his hand and his men put away their weapons. "Our boats will cost you." He stated, his eyes scanning the group. Boromir shook his head, "We're going to be crossing on our mounts."

"Suit yourselves. Tharbad is no longer passable by horse or foot." The man warned. Some time ago a massive flood caused the bridge to collapse. Of course Boromir didn't know this and he wasn't about to spend extra coin on boats when they weren't needed. If it was indeed impossible to cross, then him and his group would just have to find another way to cross. The band slowly entered the village and made their way down the muddy road.

It was a success getting into the village without confrontation, but would their luck hold? Adalmaer was quiet and her eyes shifted from left to right, watching the villagers as they watched them. Men, women, and children were gathered along the sides of the road. None were pleased. Their faces were cold, their eyes harsh, and their expressions unkind. Some muttered among themselves and others glared at the foreigners. Boromir felt the tension and he nudged his steed into a trot.

The man who greeted them at the gate had been following behind them. Once the travelers made it to the other side of the village he called out, stopping them again. Boromir stopped, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He watched the man while he walked up to them. "Last chance for boats." He warned. Boromir was getting annoyed, he had half the mind to tell him where he could shove his boats, but decided against it. They weren't looking for a fight after all.

Without giving the man a reply, Boromir moved forward and signaled his men to do the same. The burly man stepped back with a now stern face, "So be it." He grumbled. Those words ceased the interaction and the traveling party was allowed to continue on. They rode out of the village and made their way towards the river. Adalmaer glanced back to the village. There were still armed men standing at the gate. Watching. Waiting.

It took a while to get to Tharbad but because they didn't have any hiccups, they arrived sooner than anticipated. The covered road turned into an expanse of broken, rotted wood. There was debris scattered about and the remnants of a large, stoney bridge was all that remained. Save for a small dock with little rafts and a lone boatman. Boromir sighed and rubbed his temple. The river was wide and the current was strong. The only good thing was that it wasn't deep.