Gràinne and Irimë knew that using the Gwathlò River as their guide toward the dark forest would prove treacherous given the thieving Stoor Hobbits that lay in wait along it for unwary travelers.  Instead, they journeyed to the nearby Mannish bridge-city of Tharbad, where they were welcomed by Ualraig the innkeeper, his servant Donnchadh, and their master Ekhart the Builder.  A large, brawny industrialist, Ekhart gave Gràinne and Irimë food and drink and listened to their tale of the human sacrifices to the ùvano of the dark forest.  Ekhart had Donnchadh run a pennant up the pole of the tower to summon Faolan the Ranger of the Foraoise Daoine, the forest people.  Faolan and his white wolf companion arrived in short order at Tharbad, and Gràinne, Irimë and Ekhart set out with Faolan as their guide to the lair of the ùvano.

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The group met little difficulty crossing the Enedwaith with Faolan as their guide, following, as only he could, the little known “north-south footpath” forged by the rangers through Tharbad to connect the northernmost Minhiriath with the southernmost Enedwaith.  Within a week, they found the western edge of the dark forest at the base of the Misty Mountains, and created a makeshift corral for their horses, leaving Faolan’s white wolf to guard and protect the mounts.   Making their way into the dark forest, Ekhart noted how fine the wood of the primordial trees were here, and pondered aloud how it would make fine cabinets.  Enraged by the comment, an old, angry huorn – a malicious wood spirit inhabiting an ancient tree – awoke and snaked its roots out to capture and consume the party in its gaping wood-hollow maw.  The party drew their weapons and battled the primordial spirit, finally cleaving the tree in half and felling it.  Quickly, they made their way deeper into the forest, where they found an enormous cave containing the bones of animals and humans just inside the threshold. 

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Exploring the cave, Gràinne, Irimë, Ekhart and Faolan descended a giant stair at the bottom of which they discovered a shrine to an ancient demon in the form of a dark gigantic statue, which some devil-begotten sculptor had no doubt wrought in ancient days for some evil king.  Before the dark image hung seven silver lamps, wrought from the skulls of horses with flames issuing changeably in blue and purple and crimson from their eye sockets.  Wild and lurid was their light, and the face of the demon, peering from under his atavistic brow, was filled with malign, equivocal shadows that shifted and changed eternally.  Irimë recognized the image as that of Gorthaur, a malevolent demon from a bygone Age of Arda.  Hanging from the ceiling in sacrifice from a cocoon of spider silk was one of the Ar Muin men in a poison-induced coma.  They cut him down and demolished the lamps before following the cave to a forge, where they found the bronze makings of some giant weaponsmith.  Before long, the ùvano returned to his cave – an enormous horned ogre the size of ten men, carrying a small humanoid in a silky cocoon – and found his shrine to Gorthaur desecrated.  Stomping into his workshop, he found the interlopers lighting his forge fire.  Grasping an enormous bronze sword the size of an oliphant’s trunk, the ùvano fought against the intruders, but ultimately fell to their blades and arrows . . .