Part 2 – Battered and Broken
February 9, Year 1975 of the Third Age
Fornost Erain
The army of Gondor was gone, a cloud of dust in the western sky marking their passage. Their wounded would stay behind, and a small group of ships kept at Mithlond for their voyage home. Now the Dúnedain of Arnor were left behind with the elves, to bury the dead and do with the city as they saw fit.
The Fields of Fornost, once the bread-basket of the North Kingdom, stretched far to the south of the gates. These Aranarth had cleared of bodies and left alone, to heal from the scars of battle without interference. Sixth Company dug a series of mass graves northeast of the fields, to bury the enemy in all their numbers. To the northwest, Fourth and Fifth Companies dug smaller graves for the fallen Men of Arnor, Men of Gondor, Eldar, and the hobbits.
All fifty halflings had perished, six in the healers' tents and the rest on the battlefield. Many men had wept at the news, for the hobbits had brought good food to their bellies and cheer to their camps. Prince Aranarth oversaw their burial personally. The halfling commander Bungo Took, and his brother Mungo, were buried with Stars of Westernesse, the highest military honor available in the North Kingdom. The prince had a carved gravestone placed on the Halflings' Barrow, proclaiming the bravery of the Shire Archer Division for the world to see.
It was a long day, full of grief, as the living buried their fallen friends and allies. There were no songs in the camp that evening, and many lay yet in the healers' tents, too weak to attend the burials. Snow fell over the new graves as night approached, and Aranarth held council in his tent with the elves and surviving Lords of Arthedain.
"What news from the healers, Elladan?" asked the prince, wrapping his winter cloak more tightly around himself and wincing. The movement had pulled at one of his new wounds.
"Seven and thirty are in critical condition," answered the elf. "Eighty more will mend in time, but must not move for weeks. The rest may travel—slowly—as early as next week. My father suggests you put the hale soldiers to building wains, and stay in Fornost until the majority can travel safely."
"Staying in Fornost may pose a problem," Glorfindel objected. "We don't know what sort of horrors Angmar may have left for us in there."
"I sent First and Second Companies inside to look," Aranarth supplied. "Lord Anborn, what goes on in the city?"
"We've found nothing on the lower level," said the First Company captain and Lord of Ost Ardúlin. "Some caches of loot and supplies for a long-term stay, but no traps or wraiths. If there are any, we will find them tomorrow in the upper level."
"Good," Aranarth answered. "Then we may move the wounded into the lower level for now. Is the water clean?"
"Clear as Nenuial," Anborn replied. "These were no orcs. The hillmen and Angmarim need water as much as we do; they did not foul it."
"That's a relief," sighed Beren, the elderly Lord of Carnoglin and captain of Fifth Company.
"My lords, if I may," said Lord Anardil, Steward of Arthedain. "We have reclaimed our capital and destroyed Angmar, it is true. Yet Angmar was only one of the Enemy's many servants. He has not forgotten the Elendili, nor will he ever. We could not defend Fornost with our full army; how shall we do so now, with a tithe of its former strength?"
There was a long pause, as each man at the table remembered the horrifying defeat of King Arvedui's forces, and their desperate flight from the city. Aranarth cleared his throat.
"I will decide nothing so important," he said at last, "until we know what has befallen my father the King. If storms defeat the ships of the Eldar, we must send men over land. I will accept volunteers for this mission, of course. While they ride north for news of my father, we must take care of things here."
Borondil spoke up softly from his corner of the room. "My lord, one of the scouting parties found our store of winter supplies, nigh untouched. Shall we send the food on to Lindon?"
"With all haste," Aranarth answered. "It's been a hard winter for our families, and we have our own supplies now that we've taken Angmar's. Gather as much as can be done in haste, and we'll send it on with the first group of wounded."
Borondir bowed in reply.
"Tomorrow we must search the High Streets while the most severely wounded move into Lower Fornost. I want the Forochel expedition ready in two days. Good night to you all."
The lords and captains returned to their own tents, leaving the elves to contemplate matters over a cup of warm cider. One of the men, the white-haired Keeper of Records, walked slower than the rest, favoring arthritic knees and looking up at the stars with failing eyes.
"Much sorrow and many lives of men shall pass, until the Dúnedain arise and are united again," quoted Malbeth sadly. It was the prophecy that he had been given at King Arvedui's birth. "So it begins. Elbereth Star-Kindler, grant us thy blessing and watch over our young prince."
I don't like killing hobbits. =( Unfortunately, the good professor was clear; none of the bowmen ever returned to the Shire.