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lordgrimwing · 3 months ago

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On the Road to Eregion

Camnir gripped his satchel of coded maps the lore master gave him scarcely half a day ago. He could do this. He was doing this. He was going to lead a party of soldiers under the King’s herald across the old roads and to Eregion. Every elder he bumped into in the libraries impressed upon him the importance of speed and stealth and shared as much wisdom as he could fit in his head and notes. He could do this.

The lives of thousands of elves and the whole of Middle-earth hung in the balance.

No pressure.

He was going to be sick.

Elrond set them at a brisk jog up the mountain and didn’t let them break to eat until the sun was far past her zenith. Everything was going fine so far, even if he nearly choked on his spit every time Commander Galadriel snapped a question his way. He was going to mess up terribly and lose precious hours getting them back on course—and she’d be judging him the whole way.

He’d heard stories about the commander of the northern armies.

The lump of dense bread and dried meat in his stomach churned threateningly.

“Eat.”

Camnir looked up from where he was sitting on a fallen log.

Vorohil, the strawberry blond soldier, stood over him. “Eat,” he repeated, gesturing a sword-calloused hand at the food he’d abandoned.

“I can’t,” he murmured and looked down.

With a sigh, Vorohil sat next to him on the decaying log, adjusting one of the swords that hung from his belt, so it didn’t whack the original occupant. He picked up the bread and pressed it into Camnir’s empty palm. “Eat,” he exhorted. “You won’t keep up this pace if you don’t feed your body. And you’re the one person we can’t leave behind.” He snorted at the end and his voice became less somber. He was being encouraging.

Embarrassed by his doubts, Camnir admitted, “I fear I’ll be sick if I try.”

Vorohil clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Then you will join the ranks of fine men and women who threw up on the eve of their first battle. A noble fellowship.”

What an easy thing for him to say.

Camnir knew Vorohil. Well, they hadn’t met before today and this was the first time they spoke, but he’d read about him in Lindon’s libraries. This whole venture probably felt no different than a walk along the shore to a warrior of the first age. He fought in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, survived the Fall of Gondolin and the Sinking of Beleriand. It was a small thing for him to be brave.

But Camnir hadn’t seen any of that. He’d been born in Mithlond in the second age, apprenticed to a dock master’s scribe and recently come to work for the king’s cartographers, and his highest aim was to become a scribe in the royal libraries—and if he was feeling very confident or maybe had more wine than was good for him, then maybe one day he might be a lore master himself.

He’d never even seen an orc.

“Enough,” Elrond’s voice rose sharply from the other side of the small glade they stopped in. He didn’t look happy about whatever Commander Galadriel had been talking to him about. “Camnir,” he said, turning on his heel and striding over. “Are we still on the right path?”

Camnir swallowed and his mouth was suddenly very dry. Why hadn’t he drunk more water? “Yes,” he managed. “We can keep this course until we’re over this mountain.”

“Good. Let’s go!” He barked at everyone else.

Vorohil heaved a sigh and braced his hands on his knees as he stood. “Put that in a pocket,” he admonished. “You’re going to be hungry.”

///

As the sun sank below the tree line, Camnir was both nauseated and hungry. Which didn’t make much sense. Oh, and his feet were wet.

The only blessing he could find was that this wasn’t his first time navigating by starlight.

He jumped at every unexpected sound, half convinced that a slovering orc would lunge out from behind every other tree. It was foolish, but even knowing Rían, Daemor, and Vorohil had started ranging out further to ensure no enemies were near did not reassure him. He hadn’t been this scared since—well, ever. If he survived this, he was never going to leave the safety of Lindon again if he could help it.

He jogged past a large pillar of stone half hewn from the mountain side. Long forgotten by now dead hands, the white stone still stood out in the night. He’d read several discourses on the pillar and the people who tried to claim it. They were mostly speculative and fascinating.

“Wait,” Camnir called softly, slowing to a stop just beyond the landmark.

The soft footfalls of his companions fell silent. Elrond looked at him, expectant.

“The stone marks a change in the path,” he explained in a hush, opening his satchel and fingering through the scrolls. “I need to check the maps.”

“Rest for a few minutes,” Galadriel said with authority.

Camnir knew there was tension between them, but he was too busy fishing out scrolls to notice the sharp look Elrond threw at Galadriel.

“Yes,” he said. “A brief rest only. We must reach Eregion as quickly as possible.”

Squinting at a map, Camnir twisted around, trying to find a spot with more star light. The lines of the map were faint and obscured within a code. In theory, the design was such that if the maps fell into unfriendly hands, they would be unusable so the secret ways would remain safe. In practice, it made reading them by night extraordinarily challenging.

“Here,” a voice said from just over his shoulder.

He dropped the map, swore in the same startled breath, and caught the parchment before it hit the ground. Spinning around, he found Vorohil holding out a hand. In his palm sat a smooth, flat gem, similar to a river stone. It emitted a soft glow, enough to gently illuminate the soldier’s features.

Heart pounding somewhere above his head, Camnir accepted the stone and held it trembling against the velum.

After triple-checking with two other maps, he surrendered the stone. “This way.”

And they started off again.

///

They didn’t rest again until the sun climbed overhead, offering them safety under her light.

Camnir undid the laces of his soft boots and pulled them off his feet. Mouth pulling down in distaste, he tugged off the wet socks. They were so encrusted that they perfectly held the shape of his feet when he finally got them off.

He really, really wanted to throw them as far away as possible or burn them on a bone fire. He settled for shoving them down to the very bottom of his light rucksack.

Fresh socks and sunlight improved his mood remarkably.

They made it through the night unmolested and unlost. He felt like he could eat a whole harvest feast by himself this morning. Maybe he actually could get them to Eregion. Now, where did he put his food?

“Hey now, let’s not be revealing my embarrassment in mixed company,” Vorohil chuckled, drawing Camnir’s attention to the conversation going on next to him.

“Mixed company?” Rían repeated, brandishing her bow.

“Careful,” Daemor said, removing their hand from the pommel of one of Vorohil’s short swords and shoving him playfully. “She’s slain more orcs with that bow than I can count.”

Vorohil brushed loose strands of his golden hair out of his face. “That isn’t so hard, friend,” he countered. “I meant the scholar.”

Camnir looked down. “I’m not a scholar, officially.”

Vorohil looked unbothered by the technicalities of academic titles.

“Anyone who can recite the history of a crumbling aqueduct in the middle of the night is a scholar,” Rían judged.

So, he might have gotten a little passionate about the ruins of a Mannish hamlet they passed through. He’d just needed a distraction from everything going on, and when no one shushed him after the first few sentences he carried on until the broken aqueduct was far behind them.

“I have yet to publish—” he tried to explain, but the conversation had moved on, leaving him to fumble off balance in its wake.

He really was the odd one out. They were warriors forged in combat. He wasn’t much of anything yet.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have felt so apart if he could talk with Elrond. The herald had studied under the scholars before finding a place at the king’s side. He’d thought that between the moments of panic, he might be able to speak with him about where his interests lay in the libraries. He would benefit from having an acquaintance in the court who saw him as more than someone who could fetch documents. But his hope was for not.

Every time they stopped or slowed, every time he tried to approach Elrond with anything other than course corrections, the way was blocked. Sometimes because Commander Galadriel had ensnared him in hushed, sharp conversations, sometimes because the tension between the pair was so thick he thought he would smother under it if he got near them. Whatever was going on, he didn’t want to get in the middle of it.

So, he sat on the edge of the soldiers’ quips and felt very far from home, indeed.

Reaching into his satchel, he pulled out maps for distraction. With any luck, they’d be through the barrowdowns, Tyrn Gorthad, tonight and in sight of the road to Eregion by the next evening.

///

Camnir stood on the moss-covered mound where they placed Daemor’s sword in place of the body they couldn’t find. Rían and Vorohil stood with him, the three of them standing in silent vigil. Elrond and Commander Galadriel didn’t stay with them.

A few days running through the forest was not enough time to get to know someone. Cold grief still gripped at him. He didn’t need to know where Daemor was born or what family they claimed. He didn’t need to know the battles they fought in, the victories, the narrow escapes. He didn’t need to know more than that Daemor was a good person, loyal, and they gave their life for their people—and they died because of him.

He’d led the group into the barrowdowns. He hadn’t known or forgot what kind of dangers lurked there. Surely, that information had to be in the libraries somewhere. It couldn’t just be the evil power of Sauron as Galadriel suggested, could it? Either way, Daemor was dead.

He had little stomach for breakfast this morning. No one did.

Rían knelt with one knee on the ground, eyes on the partly buried sword standing upright before her. She crossed her arms as her lips trembled noiselessly. Was she entreating the Valar to greet their lost companion kindly in the Blessed Lands, Camnir wondered. She was a Sinda, like him. How could she have faith that a Vala would care?

Vorohil stood across from them, completing the triangle. He held a dry leaf between his hands, tracing it with his thumbs. He knew Daemor, there was enough talk during breaks to gather that much. They were friends, good friends, for a long time. He set his face in quiet contemplation as he looked upon the small monument.

Mist drifted across the gorge. In the distance, crows called to each other. The sun hid behind a gray sky.

Vorohil looked up as the black birds winged about above them.

Camnir wished he could say something, but he had no words, and no right to offer comfort.

Eventually Rían stood. She opened her mouth.

They heard the first deep note at the same time. Camnir felt it in the soles of his feet and in his teeth.

Drums.

In an instant, Vorohil had his swords in hand and Rían had her bow, an arrow notched and ready to draw. They turned toward the drumbeats.

“Go,” Vorohil mouthed to Camnir.

Camnir turned on his heel and hurried toward Elrond and Galadriel.

#bargain brand glorestor #they are cute what can i say?#look after watching that barrowdown scene you can't tell me that vorohil and daemor aren't friends #trop #grimwing writes #vorohil #camnir

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starcurtain · 13 days ago

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Potential Phaidei Crumbs

Some more possible Phaidei crumbs that I've been thinking about and haven't seen people discussing yet:

First, in the very first scene with Mydei, there's this one odd line. It's a tiny thing, but nothing in a character's first appearance is accidental, so...

Mydei starts griping, telling Phainon that the people of Castrum Kremnos as a whole will not accept him. Presumably he actually means this in a general sense, aka "The Kremnoans won't accept any other hero; Kremnos won't become allies with anyone."

However, something I haven't seen many people note is that Mydei's very next line is:

"As the successor of Kremnos, I am not able to act independently on such matters."

This is a weird statement, right?

Saying "I am not able to act independently" basically implies that there is a desire to choose differently than his people. It's not "I would never act differently than my people demand." It's not even "I don't want to act independently"--it's "I am not able to." Wording the statement this way actively suggests that Mydei has a different stance than Kremnos itself--that if he had the power to act independently, he might make a different determination than his people expect.

Or, in more direct words: He would accept Phainon if he had the choice.

The dev team is very careful about the first impression that characters make in their debut appearances in the game. Choosing to deliberately reveal to us that Mydei has a different opinion of Phainon than the rest of the Kremnoans might is a strong signal for Mydei's characterization--deep down, he is very different from other Kremnoans--but, even more importantly, it tells us instantly that Mydei thinks more highly of Phainon than other people from Kremnos do. (Even if he also thinks Phainon is a mannerless heathen who lacks hospitality lol.)

Okay, okay, but that's just one little line. There's another thing I wanted to point out too, and that's actually Miss Castorice...

I've seen a lot of people suggesting Mydei/Castorice, Phainon/Castorice, and even Mydei/Castorice/Phainon, but for all the fandom's shipping (and everyone should feel free to ship what they love; your ship is valid, fam!), I actually kind of think that...

Castorice is a bit of a Mydei/Phainon shipper herself.

Although Castorice is of course just a good person who is doing what she can to help Okhema, she also is quick to assist Phainon specifically to save Mydei, quick to try to keep Phainon calm because that's what will help him get to Mydei quicker, and she just brings Mydei up out of the blue to Phainon several times throughout the story.

It's Castorice who halts Phainon's ascension ceremony to ask where Mydei is, because she expected him to be there for Phainon.

It seems to be a given for Castorice that if Phainon needs him, in Phainon's most important hour, Mydei should obviously be with him. She knew Mydei would come.

Even before that, when Phainon was feeling down, Castorice admits she doesn't know how to comfort Phainon herself, and instead... brings up Mydei to comfort Phainon???

Girl thought Quick, how can I raise Phainon's self-esteem? and Mydei's nickname for Phainon was the first thing that seems to have come to mind. 😂

She really said "You're not lame, Phainon; Mydei thinks you're a hero!"

Okay, being more serious--even putting shipping aside entirely, it's just overall clear that Castorice perceives the close comradeship between Phainon and Mydei (probably moreso than Phainon himself) and understands how important having that close friendship is to Phainon, who seems to have nothing else left outside of the Chrysos Heirs at all.

She seems to be able to tell how much Phainon needs people in his life who believe in and can stand beside him, and seems to have clocked that Mydei is definitely one such person. The game tells us players clearly that Castorice is an incredibly perceptive person who is sensitive to the feelings of others, and part of that includes her continuing to verbally recognize, throughout 3.0, the support Phainon gains from his close connection to Mydei.

I think this is just another cool touch--but also maybe another subtle nod from the devs. Castorice won't even let Phainon have a single scene where Mydei isn't mentioned lol.

And finally, one last crumb based on a pet theory...

"As I've Written"

We don't yet know who is responsible for actually writing the character profiles in the "As I've Written" book--although the rewards section is called "Author's Recompense" and the player get rewards for "composing sagas," alongside the interact button being "Write Story," there's actually an entire achievement teasing the fact that the Trailblazer doesn't know who actually wrote the book:

It's not remotely written in a style the Trailblazer would write in, and it also contains information the Trailblazer (at least currently) has no way of knowing at all, like the details of Castorice's backstory.

At this point, the real author could be anyone. But I feel like there's a few things pointing in favor of the idea that the real author might be Phainon. It could also be Anaxa or Cyrene or even Mem too, but hear me out...

First, the book's design is reminiscent of Phainon: the book features prominent sun/moon symbols, has the same blue-white-gold color palette, and even the design at the bottom of the book resembles the design along the front of Phainon's coat:

The book also seems to be strongly foreshadowing that someone is going to lose their way, step onto a dark path, or end up making a terrible mistake.

In Tribbie's chapter:

In Aglaea's:

And of course in Phainon's chapter, where the foreshadowing is strongest:

If this "one who has lost their direction" and "lost themself," the "flawed hero," are all references to Phainon, then the book over and over again seems to be--for the player--foreshadowing Phainon's downfall. Or, from the other perspective: This is a record written by someone who has witnessed (or experienced) the downfall and knows what is coming.

There's also the fact that while Phainon's chapter is written in third person, the narrator occasionally slips in some hints that they know what's going on in Phainon's mind:

And there's also this moment from Mydei's chapter:

We already know that this is not how Mydei behaves around people he doesn't know. When Mydei isn't familiar with a person, he doesn't banter with them--he doesn't even bother with them. He barely speaks directly to the Trailblazer the entire 3.0 plot, for example! He doesn't remotely seem like the type of person to sit down at a table and drink with someone he doesn't know.

We also know that he's already scolded Phainon several times for trying to act like an expert in Kremnoan legends:

(Thank Streetwise Rhapsody from Youtube for these screencaps because I forgot to screencap it myself lol.)

And the icing on the cake:

The exact phrase "amateur historian" again.

To me, this all but confirms that the "true" author of the "As I've Written" chronicle is probably Phainon, which finally brings me to the actual Phaidei crumb I wanted to discuss all along:

Mydei's story is listed as chapter 10 of the book. Yet for some reason --even though we get the book only after completing nearly the entire 3.0 questline, when the player has definitely met Aglaea, Castorice, and Tribbie already--Mydei's story comes first.

While Castorice, Tribbie, Phainon, and Aglaea all share the same memory crystal, Mydei has his own separate memory crystal, not shared with any other character, and it is given to the player first, before anyone else:

Phainon really said "My man is more important than the rest of us combined."

Tribbie is chapter 1. Phainon is chapter 7. Aglaea is chapter 9. But for some reason, we jumped all three of those characters to present chapter 10 first. Theoretically you could say that it's because we went to Castrum Kremnos and fought Nikador? But, story-wise, was Mydei the most important? The Trailblazer met Phainon and Tribbie first, got to actually play Aglaea for a sequence of this story, and traveled alone with Castorice. Mydei is the character the Trailblazer actually had the least connection to in the whole 3.0 storyline, so it doesn't seem that the story is truly what determined the order characters' chapters were given to us.

At the end of the day, in a book that seems it could be written by Phainon (from the future? the past?), Mydei was given special treatment and came before anyone else.

I'm just sayin'... the devs don't do things on accident.