Chapter 12
War Clouds Gather
Marching was slow work, for by the time they had breakfasted, struck camp and formed up half the morning had usually passed, and even with only the briefest of halts for lunch they would be lucky to cover more than five leagues before it was time to halt and prepare for the night again. However Merendir, veteran of many such marches, did not begrudge the slow pace too much, for it gave him the time to get to know his captains better, their temperaments, aptitudes and in some cases shortcomings, all of which might prove vitally important when it finally came to a fight. During the day he would periodically ride up and down the column, ensuring that everything was being done to his particular standards and upbraiding anyone who showed signs of falling below them in any way, but at night he would often join the ordinary soldiers around their camp fires and eat his evening meal with them.
It took them three days to reach Bree, and they found the local companies and those from Andrath were already installed in a large well ordered camp on the far side of the town. Merendir led his contingent through the west gate and into the square and then left them to continue eastward while he himself made his way to the Keep. This time there was no welcome from the townsfolk and the mood in the town was sober, for many of its sons were now in the camp preparing to go to war. As he made his way through the streets a horn sounded from the north signalling the arrival of a column of mounted knights from Arthedain who had made much better progress than their comrades on foot who were still several days away. For a while there was chaos in the square as the two columns met but eventually all managed to filter out through the east gate and find the space in which to make camp and ready themselves for another night under the stars.
Merendir found he was expected at the Keep, and after handing Duvainien over to one of the ostlers he made his way up to the tower where just a week before he had attended the King's council though it felt like a long time ago to him now. On his way there he was apprehended by one of the garrison servants who passed him a message, telling him it had come from the south a few hours before. He recognised his brother Durchon's seal and opened the parchment to read it as he walked. It was short and to the point, simply confirming that he expected to march on the twentieth of April, which was in two days time. Merendir calculated that this would mean they could be expected to reach Amon Sul sometime during the second week in May. That was commendable work by his brother, but he hoped that they would arrive in time, for the men from the south constituted more than half of their total strength and a greater proportion still of their horse
Merendir reached the tower and ascended the stair to the chamber on the second floor. Within he found Denethor, commander of the Bree garrison and his captains along with those from Andrath, who did not have a male lord of fighting age to lead them and had therefore placed themselves under Denethor's command. They fell silent and stood smartly to attention as he entered, and Denethor stepped forward and saluted. Merendir returned the salute and then embraced him as an old friend. He was a grizzled veteran with a scarred face known for possessing an exceedingly dry wit and he was the finest commander in the north. Merendir knew he could rely on him absolutely, for he was a man with similar ideas about discipline and attention to detail and had proved to be immune to vanity or petty ambition. He introduced Merendir to the others who were there, though he already knew most of them, especially those from Bree whose number included his recent travelling companion to the south, the redoubtable Durthor. They had been discussing the arrangements for departure the following day, and Merendir insisted they continue. He listened with satisfaction to their conversation, for they were thorough and well organised, and it pleased him to be marching in the company of disciplined and competent subordinates. When all was done he questioned them regarding the strength and experience of the forces under their command, the state of their equipment and their supplies, and learned much not only about their men but them too. They would set forth with four hundred riders and two and a half thousand foot, all the strength of northern Cardolan, but Merendir feared that even a host twice that size still might not be enough to face what awaited them.
Later they were joined by the newly arrived captains from Arthedain who brought them news of the march from the north and estimated that the main body of men would reach Bree in three or four days time. "All the more reason to depart without further delay then" said Denethor "for the camp will soon stretch as far along the road as the Lonely Inn if we do not make some space soon". That evening a meal was held in their honour by the elders and leading families of Bree in the Merchant's Hall, and though it was a pleasant and dignified affair Merendir suspected that like him most of his captains would have preferred to be in the camp with their men. Afterwards he returned to the Keep and slept there, before rising before dawn and riding out with Denethor to supervise the departure. It took a good few hours before they were finally all under way but the weather was pleasant and the men were evidently in good heart, for many of them sang as they marched. Once again they only covered about five leagues but the road was now empty and it was far enough to take them out into the empty lands that would be traversing for the next eight or nine days.
Merendir had had little time for reflection before they left Bree as the ordering of the expedition had occupied every waking moment, but now he had done all that could be done, and all there was left to was left to do was simply march east. Each day was very much like the one before he had plenty of opportunity to think and consider what lay ahead, and also to consider what he had left behind. At first he had been too busy to think much about Ivrien, but now he longed to be with her again and his hand often went to his chest where a purse containing a lock of her thick dark hair was hung on a cord around his neck. Not so long ago leading a great host such as this to a battle would have been everything he had lived for, with the chance for glory and renown that it brought, but now all he truly wished to do was to be able to return to Ost-en-Tyrn and see out his days in peace with the woman he loved. He felt old and tired, and his heart ached with grief and longing. He was also greatly troubled at what her supposed foresight had shown her, that they would only have a short time together and clung to the hope that she was mistaken and that he would ride west again one day soon. It was a notoriously capricious gift, and could easily be misinterpreted or misunderstood, and even if she had seen truly there was always a chance he could cheat his fate. Of course he was too good a soldier to let such dark musings affect the performance of his duties, but those close to him did notice that he had become unusually grim, even by his own standards.
The fine weather held and the remainder of the march was uneventful. On the twenty fourth of April their destination finally came into view, a line of tall hills on the eastern horizon, with the familiar needle like point of the tower visible on the southernmost summit. Merendir had always welcomed the familiar sight of the ancient watchtower, for it had been home for most of his life, but rather than the relief he usually felt that the long and tedious journey from Bree was nearing its end he was for a moment seized by a powerful feeling of dread, and though he quickly mastered the unexpected emotion it left him shaken for a good while afterwards. " Perhaps my death does indeed lie beneath those walls" he thought bitterly and signalled for the column to halt, for they had come far enough and the sun was already casting long shadows before them. The men immediately began to fan out into the scrub on either side of the road in now well practised fashion and set about raising the camp for the night. Merendir observed them for a while steadying his nerves before dismounting and leading Duvainien to where the mounted companies were setting up picket lines for the night. He gave her a scratch on the forehead and muttered his thanks to her as was his custom before he passed her into the capable hands of one of the ostlers and then left to find the usual spot in the encampment where his tent would be pitched alongside those of his captains. For the first time since they had left Bree he ordered a full watch to be put in place, for they were now far enough east to meet any raiding parties from Angmar who might have slipped past the watch of Amon Sul. He was sure the men would grumble, but they would also realise that they were now marching to a real war with all its attendant danger and discomfort.
A little later after night had fallen Merendir was seated by a campfire with Denethor and some of the other captains when they heard a commotion and soldiers bearing torches appeared, followed by a rider. Merendir recognised him as one of the messengers from the tower by his livery, and realised it was the same man who had brought him news of his eldest brother's death at the fort a few months before. He had been riding hard and his horse was foam flecked and blowing like a set of bellows, and he dismounted smartly and saluted, recognising Merendir, who had risen to his feet. "My Lord, the King sent me to seek you here on the road and give you urgent news , for a host has crossed the Mithethiel and marches on Amon Perin". He handed over a message with the King's seal on it, and Merendir broke it and crouched by the fire in order to have more light to read it by. It was written in the King's flowing hand and as befitted the fact they were now at war contained no superfluous courtesies, just essential information.
"Five thousand crossed the river on 23rd, expected to reach Amon Perin by 27th. Amdir commands twelve hundred, send your horse to join him without delay"
He rose stiffly back to his full height and addressed the waiting captains. "Brothers, it has begun. Tell the riders to prepare, for tomorrow we must ride with all haste to Amon Sul and thence to Amon Perin where battle awaits. Five thousand or more only, but we will still be well outnumbered. Denethor, you will remain here and command the remainder of our forces until I return". He turned to the messenger who waited patiently by his panting horse. "Friend, I thank you once again for your service, though once again you bring me bad tidings". He smiled wryly. "See to your beast and take your ease, for there is no need for you to return immediately, you may ride with us back to the tower tomorrow". The rider saluted and left, and Durthor and the other captains of horse immediately dispersed to relay the order to ride directly to battle to their men and put in hand the additional preparation that would be need as a result. Denethor remained, his scarred and battered face thrown into sharp relief in the dancing firelight. His expression was quizzical. "I suppose my Lord that there is no possibility that you will allow me to lead this ride and remain here instead to complete the march to the tower?" Merendir smiled but shook his head. "Nay my friend, I thank you for your care, but this is a task that I could not pass to another. I will take good care to make sure it does not, but should anything befall me then command of our host passes to you until Prince Durchon should arrive". Denethor pursed his lips and nodded and clapped Merendir on the arm. "May the Valar watch over you and bring you safe back to us friend, for I fear greater tests than this lie ahead and you will be needed".
The mounted soldiery rode away early from the camp the following morning at a trot, their harness jingling and their hooves thundering on the road, raising a pall of fine dust into the cool morning air. The day promised to be unseasonably warm and the sun blazed down from a sky that was clear from edge to edge. Merendir felt a sense of relief, for now there was be no time for maudlin thoughts or reflection, just grim duty. He patted Duvainien on the neck as she strained to increase the pace against his wishes. "Now we will get the chance to see what you're made of girl".
The tall hills and the tower gradually grew in their sight as the hours passed, but the pace of the ride was deliberately slowed in order to avoid over fatiguing their mounts in the heat, and there were frequent stops for water from the streams they crossed along the road. It was late afternoon by the time the settlement at the foot of Amon Sul came into view, with the smoke of various forges and kitchen fires rising into the sky above it. A large and well ordered camp had already sprung up alongside the large cluster of buildings built to service the garrison that stood alongside the east road below the tower, and the sight of it reminded Merendir of previous campaigns long ago. Their arrival was expected, and the sentries passed on the King's request for Merendir to join him at the tower. He parted from the main column, who were directed into the camp, and took the familiar road that climbed the vertiginous flank of the hill to the fortress above, allowing his mare to pick her own pace. As they gained height, following the road as it wound back and forth a refreshing breeze sprang up, and on any other day it would have been pleasurable to watch the ever expanding vistas unfold to the south and west, but Merendir's attention was drawn to the camp below and thoughts of what lay ahead.
Merendir was shown into the tower, and followed the steward up the endless winding stair to the penultimate floor where a landing opened onto a large circular room which housed a library full of ancient volumes and manuscripts. Within the King and Norgalad, the venerable Master of the Stone were seated at the large table in the centre of the room. They both rose to their feet when he entered but as they were in private there were none of the usual formalities and they simply greeted each other as old friends. "Your arrival is welcome and timely friend" said Arveleg "For it would seem Amon Perin will be assailed the day after tomorrow and now we have some hope that we can overcome this first test with your numbers added to those commanded by Amdir. Preparations were in hand for the stronghold to be evacuated as we had planned, but when we saw that a force had crossed the river there was insufficient time for the matter to be arranged without running the risk that our men would be caught in the open by the enemy. Therefore we must withstand this assault and only then will we be able to withdraw in good order." Merendir considered the King as he spoke and to his dismay saw that he had become careworn and weary in the weeks since they had last met. "We are ready to give a good account of ourselves, and the horses have not been overly taxed by the march" he replied. "This may only be the first skirmish, and against greater numbers, but I have every confidence that the day will be ours". Arveleg nodded. "We are sending the finest horsemen in the kingdom against them and I am of the same opinion. But we should not allow ourselves to grow over confident, for what we have observed in the stone is enough to sow doubt even in the stoutest of hearts. It would seem that all of Angmar is emptied against us, and I fear their main host will be ready to march in just a few days. The traffic across the north ford and down the vale of the Mitheithel has been ceaseless and their numbers have been swelled by great hosts from the Misty Mountains and the Shaws of Rhudaur. The lands far and wide around the town of Iant Methen are now one huge camp, on both banks of the river. I have never been a man given to doubt, but this time I fear that our fate truly hangs in the balance. We can only hope that Cirdan will heed our call for aid and reach us in time, for with him and his people lies our best hope of withstanding this foe. Our messenger will only have reached Mithlond a few days ago at best, and time is short". Lord Norgalad, white bearded and bent with age nodded his head in agreement and spoke in his familiar measured tones. "I fear it is as the King has said, and we find ourselves pitted against a foe beyond our measure, with a host much smaller than the one we put in the field last time". Merendir's first reaction was to reply with words of bold defiance and encouragement but they died in his throat when he remembered his own feelings of foreboding, for the stone did not lie and for two such great men to be cowed by what it had shown them things must be truly dire. Instead he spoke quietly "My lords, old friends, our predicament may be dire but we must not yet abandon hope, not until it is clear that all is lost. I will not do so yet".