Chapter Forty-Nine
The Siege of Dagorlad would last for months.
After the first battle was done, Ereinion Gil-Galad came, in shock over what happened. Estela explained to him everything and then headed for Thranduil's sick-tent.
Estela sat on the stool next to his low bed. What was she going to tell him?
In her anguish, Estela remembered when the remaining Fëanorian followers, including Fëapoldon, had come to let her out, from her locked and bolted quarters where she had been placed under her father's orders just before he left, the last time she had seen him. He wanted to keep her safe, but nothing kept her safe from the reality that emerged.
She would not wish that pain on anyone- not even the vilest individuals. No one deserved that.
Thranduil stirred. Estela was at once by his side.
He gasped, jolting awake, eyes coming into focus. He made to leap out of the bed, but Estela, one of the few people faster than he, quickly halted him.
"My lady?" Thranduil gasped. "My wife- my father-"
As he said those words, Thranduil paled. My father….
Estela's face said it all- it was twisted in anguish. She released him and dropped her hands, and her head bowed towards the floor. "I am sorry, Prince Thranduil."
Thranduil gasped again and made to his feet before Estela restrained him. "Stop," she begged. She handed him a flask of miruvor.
"My father," Thranduil whispered pleadingly. "My wife?"
"Your wife is safe," Estela said. "We got her out just in time, although she took a blow to her head, she is recovering. She must rest now. I will take you to see her later. But as for your father…."
Horror, shock and a sudden stillness descended upon him. No…
Estela took a deep breath and out of her emerald eyes, tears descended. "He was surrounded by beserker orcs. I duelled with the Nazgûl, but it suddenly screeched and fled. I went to find you and your father, but the orcs were already doing their work. We shot them down and took your father before he could be killed. We dealt with the armies, but…" She swallowed, and more tears gathered in her eyes.
"Your father was so terribly injured, and the poison used by beserker orcs are much faster than the ones used by others. We managed to bathe and dress his wounds, purge the worst of the poisons by athelas, we even gave him miruvor, but…" She swallowed and the tears flowed freely. "I am sorry," she whispered. "I am so, so sorry." She took a deep breath. "I spoke to him," she whispered. "His last thoughts were about you, your wife and your son." She handed him something Oropher had given her as he was being carried away. "Give this to Thranduil," he had said.
It was a crown. Mithril wove itself like ivy into intricate shapes like berries, buds and thorns, the crown of the Woodland king, in battle. At the very centre, a stone like a star stood. She swallowed. "He wanted you to have this. He asked me…" her voice faltered.
"He said it was up to you now, to save them." She finished. "And his thoughts and prayers would be for you- and your family."
Thranduil stood there, stunned in an icy, shock. He grasped the crown, not really seeing it or absorbing the fact that it was there. And that he was no king of Greenwood the Great. No….
He jumped to his feet. "No! I must see him- I must!"
"Thranduil," Estela whispered. "He will not be as you remember him. Are you sure?"
"I don't care!" Thranduil shouted. "I must see him- I must see him- my father!" He broke down suddenly.
Estela's tears flowed further, and she stroked his back as he was consumed by grief.
After a while, Estela took him to see his father- and his wife. Oropher's body had been repaired as best they could. Bathed, new armour in the woodland colours covering up the mashed and shattered bones, the swelling and the great gashes which were stitched up, and sadly stuffed to give some resemblance of normality, Estela noted that his hair had been lovingly combed and a crown- resembling the one he had passed on to Thranduil, rested upon his head. It was given by Ereinion.
His face had been repaired as well- as well as stuffing the cavity created to give the appearance it once had, they used makeup, something elves would not normally use, to give it some normal colour. His wounds had been stitched by Estela himself. She would not let Thranduil see him and remember him save for the way he once was. No offspring should see their father thus.
Estela sighed. It was not over- but for him.
Oropher's death and Amdír's was a heavy blow, but they all had to play their parts.
And now they had to play their part.
As aforementioned, the Siege of Dagorlad lasted for months. They had managed to get the orcs to open the gate- which was part of the original plan- now they had to keep it- not only open, but as part of their won-territory.
They crashed into waves and waves of orcs. Fighting, showering them with arrows, slicing them with swords, and all the while, Estela fought at the head, slicing through orcs like a riptide, or a storm.
She surged, riding through the ranks of dark powers like a warrior Ainu, but as lethal as a demon, on horseback, or on foot, with her twins swords in her hand, or her bow, shooting arrow, after arrow.
It was in the heat of one such battle, that Estela fought with such ferocity her name would be remembered- if not in the official records of the War of Wrath, certainly in others. She was unstoppable, demonic in her lethality, and liquid or air-like for when she moved, they say that it was more graceful than dancing.
It was a beautiful yet terrifying grace, with which she killed foul things under Sauron's might. And it was so efficient, so deadly and so destructive to Sauron that the price of her head soared sky-high.
And so it begins- the beginning of the end. And so I shall write: the days of my life here, are filled with blood and gore- the red blood of my friends, and the black of the orcs, all of them everywhere. When I do not fight, I tend and heal the wounded. I bury the dead- or rather bathe and prepare them for cremation, for no one should have to rest in Sauron's shadow. The winds scatter their ashes to the west. For that I pray to Manwë Súlimo and am thankful to him. If do not do either, I fight, I bathe in the blood of my foes. For there are countless, and many more come. Wave after wave, they come. And yet I fight. I fight sweeping them like a riptide, cleansing Arda of their filth, every swing, every twitch they tell me, causes countless damage to Sauron's forces, for it seems as if every time Ereinion's spear and my swords strike, tens of thousands are felled. Yet many more come. And many more strategies and plans are devised by us, in Gil-Galad's briefing tent. We crash upon them, sweeping them like waves ourselves, far away to oblivion. And more come, but our successes too, pile high. We have entered Mordor. But a price was made in the lives of Oropher, Amdír and many of their host from the Woodland realms.
And many more shall fall.
Estela set the quill down. Here they were, breathing and living in Mordor, under Sauron's shadow.
Yet the fight does not end here.
She set down the quill again.
And soon, she would lead a host herself, again.
The next battle would commence the very next day.
And there they were. Estela rode at the head of the cavalry and charged.
She came from another division, leading them over some high hills that stood out on the mostly flat plateau of Gorgoroth.
They had the high ground. And Estela mostly kept to that advantage. The orcs were in chaos, it was only Sauron's power that kept them from fleeing and instead staying and fighting.
And Sauron's rage increased. His hate for the House of Finwë burned ever hotter. Especially for Gil-Galad and Estela. The outstanding shieldmaiden (who rarely ever bore a shield, actually she fought with two swords after all), who grew ever more dangerous. He should have realised just how dangerous she was.
And still they fought.
Estela headed south. She did so in greatest secrecy- one slip- and they were dead, or worse. Sauron was tricky and cunning and the main host of the Alliance was further away- too far to be of any help.
Luckily, and because she had prayed so hard for the sake of others, Estela managed it. Stealth had always been her favoured weapon in the past before, anyway. This was no different.
She headed for the land of Núrn.
It was the most fertile land in Mordor. Moist enough to carry the inland sea of Núrnen. Where crops were farmed by humans living there. The non-toxic ash from Mount Doom had blown there, and left the soil rich with nutrients, but the humans that populated there lived in chains. They were enslaved by Sauron's forces, forced to labour for the Dark Lord.
Now was their chance.
Estela knew she had little time.
The humans there were so scrawny, she thought it was not only hateful, but also stupid for anyone to expect them to labour, while being half-starved. But then again, when were orcs so bright?
Estela saw the holding pens. And the cages. And everything the orcs and Uruk-hai had. We do not even treat beasts like this, she thought, barely containing her rage. But then again, she was always a master at turning her hot rage to icy calm.
She jerked her head to Maltariel. The fellow shieldmaiden who loyally followed her from Valinor. They needed to move- now.
"What shall we do? Maltariel hissed
"We shall tread carefully," the queen answered calmly. The cage was completely surrounded. The barracks were filled with not just orcs, but Uruk-hai- larger, more brutal and slightly cleverer and less cowardly than orcs.
And their barracks might appear filthy and ramshackle, but it was in actual fact, strong and sturdy, hard to break and hard to penetrate- except that there are always brawls that end in death- both Uruk-hai and orcs alike appear to believe that a celebration, such as a drunken, ribald bout of singing or feasting would be rendered dull without several dozen deaths. The brutish preyed on the weak, the recalcitrant and the most resentful ganged up and cleverly thought up a cunning plan to kill the brutish ones. It was so much so, that despite being designed as impregnable, the make-shift fortress would be easily penetrated- by the most intelligent, cunning and skilled. The consequences if captured were far too horrific to contemplate.
"Let's go." Estela said.
She huddled and jumped to an outcropping of rock. A stench so strong rose up and hit her nostrils, making her grimace in disgust. An elf's senses were stronger than any earthly being's and that was the unfortunate thing in this case. What she smelt was grog- an alcoholic beverage primarily enjoyed by humans and sometimes by dwarves, made from rum mixed with water, lemon juice and weak beer. But the variant consumed by Uruk-hai were undoubtedly different and fouler. They were addicted to this.
Estela could not afford to waste time. She scanned the fortress with eyes sharper than even the ones that built this. Sauron was wise in some ways to keep the Dark Númenóreans and other humans on his side away from the orcs and Uruk-hai. But it also served to distance them further and the Dark Númenóreans were infinitely clever than these. Not that they wouldn't be deadly if they caught them.
Yes, there were weaknesses in their fortress. They were in an area which was the most fertile in all of Mordor. So for one thing there were trees to climb as well as bushes to conceal themselves. There were boulders and furthermore, there were orcs and Uruk-hai who not only brawled but were terribly drunk. She could even hear some singing- not the music she enjoyed. Estela kept her sword sheathed. She drew her long knives instead. She motioned for the others to do the same, which they did, silently. Estela dove into the bushes. She climbed one tree. The orcs never learned did they? Neither did the Dark Númenóreans according to her experience. Why build watch-towers so close to trees? For elves, watch-towers were trees, which gave them an advantage as to detecting anyone far or sneaking up on them by climbing. But for the races that did not use them as such, it was a weakness and nothing less than folly.
She gently swung herself onto a branch in the top-most part of the tree, after scaling all the way from the bottom, away from the sight of the orcs.
"Mind you," one of them was saying- in Westron. "Ev'ry'un's makin' a fuss abou' this si'uation. I say, we've 'ad enough. Two pointy-eared kings 'r' dead. Wha's the difference?"
"The difference is that she's out there, scum." Hissed another orc. "The red-'aired queen. The one they say the Dark Master says that ev'ry time she twi'ches 'er dainty finger, ev'ry'one ge's hurt. Including us. Le's remember- ev'ry time she comes in, ev'rything comes falling to bits. She is terrifyin', she is. The most terrifying un' me says. Next to the king."
"Bu'-" another one of them protested. "Uh though' the king was dead?"
The second orc growled. "Not tha' king, you idiot. The other un! The High and Migh'y un- the King of 'em all! The un that still out there- wieldin' 'is migh'y spear- the icy spear."
They inhaled sharply, hissing in terror. The icy spear. Aeglos.
"So, no un knows when she's goin' to strike next," the second orc continued. "Bu' she's there. Next thing you know- you're 'ere. Then she comes- and you're dead. She fights like the brigh' uns, she does. Like the uns that came and took the first dark master, the un that 'ad the big statue whom Master made the stupid islanders worship. And she's strong. Fas'er than lighting- more dangerous than anythin' you fellows 'ave ever seen! And you won't see 'er comin'. All you see, is a flash of light! Like lightning! WHAM! She slams into ya, and slashes your throat!" The other orcs jumped. "And there's nuthin' you can do abou' it."
Maltariel smirked on the tree. She turned to Estela. They knew full well who the orcs were talking about.
Estela tilted her head. That was before she jumped out of her hiding spot and onto the watch-tower, slitting the orc's throat and letting the body fall with a thump below. Orcs and Uruk-hai never noticed. There were too many brawls and fights, too many dropping off high posts after drinking too much grog and thus, too many corpses lying around waiting for scavengers or someone hungry to take a bite, to be noticed.
She pressed her back to the watch-tower wall. There. Other orcs, she spotted, most of them were too drunk. The plan, she communicated through her companions' minds. They just had to be far away when it happened.
Maltariel would take the lead. And Fëapoldon.
And they did.
Estela waited. She knew the grog that the orcs consumed was undeniably strong. And there were barrels and boxes full of this grog. And they had brought more barrels and boxes with them- smaller ones, containing other substances which could be mixed with the grog to create explosives.
There was a statue of Sauron nearby. A good thing too. She hated the sight of it.
And the orcs and Uruk-hai were responsible for whatever happened to the statue, which to them, would be considered 'sacrilege'. And so they would react appropriately.
She shifted. She just had to wait and ready herself for when the time comes. She tensed, waiting.
It started to rain.
Drops pattered onto the soil, the only soil that sustained life in Mordor, a land which was a remnant of Morgoth's destruction and further poisoned by Sauron.
After a while a loud bang resounded.
The orcs screeched and the Uruk-hai bellowed, some spilling their grog everywhere, in alarm as they beheld the sight of the gigantic granite statue of Sauron toppling and crumbling.
They immediately ran towards it in alarm, drawing and brandishing their weapons. That was her cue. She jumped off the watch-tower, turning a somersault in the air, before landing neatly in front of them, and slitting the throat of the closest one.
They bellowed and screeched once more in alarm. Estela gave them no time to think. The bravest raised their weapons, but even she could see the fear in their eyes. They foolishly stumbled towards her, while she dodged right and left, skidding on her heels and leaning back, so that her twin swords sliced their shins in two, before spinning up, whirling in the air, and slicing the throats of several nearest to her, before catching a few weapons in deadlock, twisting and smashing their heads together. She then did a forwards leap into the air, flipping in mid-air, before landing in front of the crowd, cutting their heads as if they were butter and turning her attention to the Uruk-hai who were determined- though frightened- to fight.
One sword parried, and blocked the other slashed through the air finding the throats and other vulnerable spots of the orcs and Uruk-hai. Left and right, their attempts were thwarted and she slaughtered them. She killed as many as she could, moving too fast for their eyes to see, twisting back and bending her limber body backwards, to stab in an exposed spot in an Uruk's armour.
She then leapt into the air and pursued the fleeing ones. She knew Sauron would want vengeance. So she would keep this from him as much as she could. She cut down the fleeing orcs and the rest of the Uruk-hai. Eventually the others joined in, before, as she planned, the majority came in, at the same time she was able to slip away and assist them by killing most of the others.
Estela ran to the slaves. The others had freed them from their cages. They were a frightened bunch. Most were sallow, but there was a sign in the sweat and skin about them- due to the humidity of this particular area in Mordor, so moist yet hot, and near to the inland sea that stated these were natives of this particular area, conquered by Sauron.
She placed her fingers to her lips. They had to flee. Fast. After the enemies were killed.
After it was done, Estela stood in front of a large crowd.
It was larger than she expected.
The Sauron's forces had imprisoned and enslaved so many.
And there they were, standing right before her.
She stepped forwards. Fëapoldon frowned at them. "This is Estela Queen of the Noldor-"
She shook her head. "No, do not introduce me as that. I am not a queen that sits behind palace walls to be pampered and coddled. I am not a conqueror nor am I your mistress. I am someone merely seeking justice in this land, for the ones that have been lost. All the ones," She said firmly. "A Queen does not come before you today to claim you as her own. A simple being of Arda comes before you, willing to be sacrificed in order for others like yourself to be free." She said slowly, seemingly looking into each and every set of eyes- although how she managed that, was unknown. Reaching out to them, they saw what was in her emerald eyes, was pain. They saw it, and did not understand it. The regality and service of a queen, the deathless courage of a shieldmaiden and something else- the pain of a mother, a daughter, a granddaughter, a niece a bond-sister, a wife- and someone with a heart.
"You are free." She said loudly and clearly for all to hear. "Let not Sauron influence your souls and minds as he did your bodies. You are free from Sauron's grasp and Sauron's shadow, although it hovers us all, cannot touch that which defines us as free beings! You are free! Let no one question that! And I give you my word that as long as I live, the darkness shall never touch you! I ask- no I beg- only one thing. Will you help others be the same? Will you help us find the way to the Dark Tower, to topple the Evil One, and set Arda free from his shadow?" She cried out, waiting. Just waiting.
Tears sprung to their eyes. Many of them wept, crying out, desperate to touch one bit of her, to know something of her, of their Lady Freedom, as they would call her, of the Warrior Queen and maiden who had willingly set herself at risk to set them free. They cried out her name, gave her titles in their many languages, including Westron, and tears in their eyes they wept and thanked her, blessing her eternally.
There were few scenes like this, as Estela surrounded by masses, who worshipped her with tears in their eyes, as her followers looked awe-struck and feeling tears in their own eyes, knowing that history was being made right before them.
She was their queen- their Lady Freedom, and their Warrior Queen all. She was everything to them. And never would they forget.
And neither would Sauron.
Sauron felt rage in his very soul.
That she-elf! He howled to the soot-covered skies of Mordor, in his rage, and with a single blast of power, incinerated the orcs who stood nearby. Then he howled some more.
The volcano exploded a wave of lava and thundered in reply, while the earth shook. Orcs and other foul creatures shook and screamed, hearing such things.
Sauron snarled. He had to get rid of her. Soon. He had no doubt now, this girl was different. She was not like her grandfather, or uncles, or even her father and cousin.
She could not be tempted. Perhaps she could but he could not take the risk at provoking her, tempting her, or manipulating her. Not like the others.
Did she- damn them- Morgoth forbid, did she have the Valar backing her?! Surely not! The Doom was a curse! A curse that extended to their whole house, if not the entire exilic Noldor.
Her son might be safely in his clutches, but his mother hovered nearby- ready to strike at any time. And who knew when and where she would appear and what she would do next! She was a riptide of destruction for him- her and Gil-Galad who was like a burning star, or lighting, ready to strike at anyone, anywhere.
Sauron clenched his fingers into a fist- the iron-gauntleted hand curling about to strike, his gold Ring gleaming on his finger and the fiery words etched onto the bright gold, as it would be into everyone's fates. As it would be.
Once Estela was dead.
We're getting very close to the end! Now I've heard the arguments whether or not to let Gil-Galad live, and I've made a decision- not giving anything away yet! But she did attract Sauron's attention. Now I've heard all the cases for and against letting Gil-Galad live, and I have to keep the story going. As I said, I am planning a sequel. Also, I think we know what happened to Amdir and his elves- they're the ones that ended in the Dead Marshes where Frodo, Gollum and Sam passed on the way to Mordor.
And the Valar's test will come very soon. If you've seen the movie Valkyrie, there was this line where Colonel Henning von Tresckow says to Stauffenberg, "You know, God promised Abraham that he would not destroy Sodom if he could find just ten righteous men. I believe that for Germany, it may come down to one." The plot revolves around the July 20th plot to kill Hitler by Germans. So let's keep that in mind, because that's what kind of test the Valar have in store for her.
To reviewers Halie and Phoebus Artemis- Thanks!
