Of Northad and Earnur
The captains of the host held a conference in Fingon's main tent. Northad was outside looking onto the large, triangular tent with Earnur holding one of Huor's horses and feeding it with carrots out of his hand. The day was becoming darker instead of lighter and the flock of crows above grew larger and they cried overhead in anticipation of the death to come. Hurin and Huor looked around at the Elven Captains. Fingon said to them all, 'We are missing the sons of Feanor. We were told they would be accompanying us. We need their support for any assault upon anyone know where they are?'
Hurin said, 'They cannot be far away. But you are right, we need to know. I suggest we send a small, swift force to the East to find them. In the meantime we need to busy ourselves with organising our force. We need to position our forces on the mountains to counter any attack from Angband One person who accompanied these messengers was Terglis. He was an accomplished horseman and knew something of the area to the East, and Rhogusil agreed to go with him as well, at least for a time. They cried, 'Farewell,' to Northad as he and Rhogusil travelled of to the East in the gloom to try to find what had happened to the Maedhros and his brothers.
Northad was standing on a barren windswept hill with the Fen of Serech before him. It looked empty and harmless, but Fingon had assured them that if anyone did step foot upon it they would be slain by Enemy archers. A large army of Orcs slowly issued forth and offered a parley. But some parley! An Elven prisoner was brutally slaughtered in front of the watching Elves and Men.
Northad would not be parted from his comrades and so charged with them. Down the hill they thundered, an avalanche of Elven wrath. The dull light of the overcast day glinted off the tips of their spears and the arrows that rained on the Orcs, who fled in abject terror. The Elves chased after them, slaying any they could. But Northad found that slaying Orcs contrary to what some had told him, was a grim and grubby business with little of the glory he had always hoped to gain.
He saw their faces crumple and their bodies spill black blood as he lashed out at them with his sword. Northad couldn't help but feel a bit of pity. His pity faded as more Orcs crawled out of a nearby cave system followed by huge stony Trolls and other terrible creatures. Resolutely, Northad tightened his dirty slick fingers around the hilt of his sword and faced them with a snarl. A patrol led by Druilin dashed far forward and were quickly cut off. Northad couldn't see him any more in the gloom and the last he did see was Druilin surrounded by a far stronger force of foes and unable to receive aid. Arrows cluttered into the army
Some raised their shields to hold them off, but the arrows kept coming. Many fell with a cry to the muddy blood-soaked ground. Northad heard a cry he recognized. He turned around to see one of his companions he had come up with, Berglis, fall down dead with an arrow in his throat. The enemy closed in around him. Northad's throat went dry. He knew that, unless help came quickly, he would end up like Berglis. A massive Troll swung its huge iron club at him. Northad ducked and slashed at the Troll's stone-clad belly. Orcs surrounded them. 'I am alone', thought Northad. 'Where are my friends?'