Chapter LVI: The Siege of Ichidoragon
They needed two days to cross the Lavnen, then the military caravan – almost three kilometres long – resumed marching.
Three days later, Coeris warned them of the presence of Easterling patrols; they didn't do anything to hide, because they counted precisely on being spotted to prompt a confrontation with at least part of the Easterling army, distracting them from the western front.
The battle took place on February 28th, on a flatland about halfway to Ichidoragon, where they found around 8000 infantrymen deployed and ready; the fight lasted several hours and ended with the resounding victory of the three allies. The few survivors were caught and then released, so that they would break the news of their defeat to the capital city and warn their emperor that the triple army would march on Ichidoragon and make scorched earth all the way through. The prisoners, incredulous they would escape death and torture – which they wouldn't hesitate inflicting, should their position be reversed – rode away headlong, not out of fear of the army coming from beyond the Red Mountains, but because of the presence of the Entwives: ancient stories, told in low voices around the campfire or in front of the hearth during winter nights, narrated of terrifying beings looking like trees, which had scoured their land so long ago that it had become a legend... and now, this very legend was proving frighteningly real. Indeed, the Entwives had taken part in the battle, hurling boulders they had ripped up from the ground and flinging them in the midst of the opponent army, then charging side by side with the cavalry that had swept away the enemy lines.
This way, a terrifying reputation preceded the triple army; the few villages and remote farmhouses they met on the march to the Easterling capital they found deserted, and therefore they were able to go on without the slightest hindrance.
C oeris, who had kept an eye on the freed prisoners, came back reporting she had seen a number of couriers leaving Ichidoragon headed westward, certainly dispatch riders chasing after the army that was marching to Mordor, carrying orders to recall part of it for the defence of the capital city. Through the Eagle again, they learnt that about 7000 soldiers had been detached from the forces heading for the Dark Land and were returning to Ichidoragon marching at maximum speed; they reached the town while the three armies coming from beyond the Orocarni were still one day away.
On the fifth day of March, under a pouring rain, at last Nerwen, Aryon and the armed forces accompanying them arrived within sight of the enemy capital. The Avar prince deployed the troops in formation, with the Entwives at the centre and Coeris flying above them along the whole line, so that they would appear all at once on the horizon in an daunting sight; and indeed, the apparition of 11.000 soldiers on a line of almost three kilometres, accompanied by gigantic walking trees and an enormous eagle, impressed greatly the inhabitants of Ichidoragon, undermining the Easterling warriors' spirits in spite of their officers' ferocious encouragements, which didn't sound very convincing. Even the emperor, who was watching from the highest tower of the castle, felt distraught.
Ichidoragon was strategically built on a large rocky cliff, just over one hundred metres high, rising suddenly up from the plain, almost vertical on one side, while on the other side, the slope was just slightly less steep. It was impossible to take with a frontal assault, and the walls had defence engines such as ballistae and onagers; but the besiegers could count on siege engines more formidable than the traditional ones: Fimbrethil and her companions. Almost 150 Entwives would act like as many trebuchets and catapults, with a deployment that could not be compared to any other siege in all of the history of Arda so far. At the worst, they could starve Ichidoragon because, even if well stored with food and water, sooner or later the defenders would finish their stocks. What mattered, was having removed a substantial part of their forces from the assault that Sauron was preparing against Gondor; if they would conquer or not Ichidoragon, was of secondary importance.
OOO
For 48 hours, the triple army did nothing, except setting camp in plain view, but well out of reach of possible reactions from the besieged city, a strategy meant to unnerve the adversary.
On the third day, Pallando, Nerwen, Aryon, Fimbrethil, Voranya and Grellon, followed by the standard-bearers of the three realms and a squad of soldiers coming from all three armies, approached the walls under white flag, arriving almost within range. Here they halted and only one soldier, bearing the white flag, rode one at his own risk; he was a young lieutenant named Faron and he had volunteered, nonetheless Grellon, from whose army the brave warrior came, followed his advance with concern.
Arriving within earshot, Faron stopped, showing off the peace banner.
"I'm here on behalf of the armies of Yòrvarem, Varas and Dalad!" he shouted in a clear voice, "I come to offer you an honourable surrender! You have no escape: you're cut off from the main body of your army and from supplies. Surrender! Otherwise, we'll burn down your town."
For a while, nothing moved on the bastions; then a mocking voice answered:
"I don't see how you can do this: you don't have the necessary resources. Where are your siege engines?! We can withstand here for weeks, even months if needed. Meanwhile, our troops will be finished and come back, and you'll be caught up in the middle. Get away! We have nothing against you. If you strike camp now and go back to where you came from, we'll forget the offence you caused us by invading our land. Otherwise, you'll have war, no holds barred: the Easterlings don't tolerate strangers entering their empire with no invitation!"
Nerwen clenched her fists: she had already had a foretaste of the Easterlings' lack of tolerance toward strangers. The memory of the fight she and Aryon had with one of their patrols, which had cost her friend Calad's death, still burned in her heart.
They had taken into account that the Easterlings wouldn't surrender; actually, they hadn't expected they would. Theirs had been only an attempt to see if it was possible avoiding a battle, which would inevitably bring many deaths, on one side and on the other.
Faron was unimpressed.
"Is this your last word?" he asked. There was a moment of tense silence, before the same mocking voice replied:
"No... this is our last word!"
On the last syllable, arrows rained from the bastions, aimed to the standard-bearer, in complete disregard to the white banner he was carrying. Instinctively, Faron drew back, but he had no chance: pierced by many darts, he fell from the saddle and his horse, he too wounded, bolted terrified.
From the lines of the triple army, the warriors shouted furiously; Nerwen, Aryon and the others of their group, too, felt shaken and indignant.
"Cowards!" Voranya yelled in a rage.
Faron's horse galloped towards them; Nerwen rode to him, trying to grasp his reins, but the poor beast was wild with pain and, foaming at the mouth, shot past her, running madly towards the troops. The Istar could do nothing for Faron, surely already dead because an arrow had pierced his chest; she spurred Thilgiloth, turning her loose, but shortly after, the wounded horse crashed to the ground. Nerwen jumped from the saddle and ran to him, hoping she could do something for him with her thaumaturgic power; but it was too late and she could only witness his last breath.
In the meantime, Aryon and the others had followed her and now the Avar prince was barking orders:
"Sergeant! Gather a squad of twelve men with shields! Form a shield wall, advance until you get to Faron and bring him back here!"
In a few minutes, the maniple was ready; under a hailstorm of arrows, attempting in vain to stop them, the twelve soldiers got to their dead companion and carried him to the camp.
General Grellon issued order for the body to be washed and prepared for the funeral. His companions, furious, wanted to assault Ichidoragon immediately, but Aryon and the generals had other plans and stopped them.
OOO
The following day, the battle began. The Entwives had worked the better part of the night hoarding boulders, as well as picking up trunks of dead trees. Now they started flinging the boulders against the city walls, focusing on the iron gates in an attempt to knock them down, and on a number of spots along the bastions, trying to breach them. They set the trunks afire and hurled them over the walls; several fires broke off where they crashed.
The Entwives' strength in throwing the missiles was maybe lesser than trebuchets and catapults, but the precision of their aim was far greater than any device. Besides, being them highly mobile – unlike the traditional siege machines – prevented the defenders from hitting them with their ballistae and onagres. They even tried to pierce them with flaming arrows, but the female Enyd kept constantly out of range and the darts tumbled on the ground, useless.
Pallando felt sorry that his powers were of no use, because for safety, he had to stay too far to hit the bastions with lightning or fireballs before they would disperse; but he used them often to light the trunks the Entwives were hurling, instead of having to do it with a traditional fire.
OOO
The siege lasted four days. By night, the Easterlings endeavoured some sorties, trying to catch an Entwife by surprise and set fire on her, but both the Enyd and the soldiers' watchfulness was too strict and the enemy was never able to get near them.
During the morning of the fourth day, the iron gates of the city broke and soon after, two other spots of the bastions collapsed, bringing down with them towers and houses. The besiegers approached the walls under the protection of their shields, while the defenders were throwing at them pitch and hot oil from the top, as well as hailstorms of stones and arrows. Many soldiers of the East fell, promptly replaced by others, until they were able to enter and establish bridgeheads. At this point, the fight slowly climbed toward the citadel, last line of defence. Aryon led the assault, trying to take advantage of every cover in order to avoid unnecessary losses among the soldiers.
Without any specific command, about twenty Entwives, led by Fimbrethil and Calenfinn, entered behind the soldiers, overtook them and advanced irresistibly, trampling over the defenders who were fighting strenuously and hence opening the way for the besiegers; taking advantage of the offered opportunity, Aryon ordered to all who were already inside the city to follow the Entwives, heading quickly for the stronghold at the top of the rocky hill, where the emperor and his personal guard were barricaded; to the rest of his forces and to the other Entwives, he ordered to find and take down the last pockets of resistance in town.
When they arrived on the forecourt opposite the citadel, a rain of arrows coming from above its walls welcomed them. Ignoring it, the Entwives marched on: the darts piercing their barks were painful, but no more than pin punctures.
"Take down the gate!" Fimbrethil ordered. Calenfinn and other four clung to the iron-clad double doors, sliding their fingers between them trying to rip them from their hinges.
Aryon and his men arrived at that moment; seeing the Entwives assaulting the gate, the prince observed the facade of the palace and noticed a movement on the walls. He instantly realised what was about to happen and yelled at the top of his lungs:
"Get away!"
Too late: from above, they tossed hot pitch, hitting fully Calenfinn and the other ones; then came a number of flaming arrows, inflaming the black, sticky substance. Under Aryon's and their own companions' horrified stare, in a moment the five Entwives were engulfed in flames; with terrible shrieks, some of them began to run desperately, while others flung themselves to the ground, in the vain attempt to extinguish the fire devouring them.
Calenfinn looked frantically around her, seeking escape, but there was none; realising she could do nothing to save her life, she hurled herself against the still intact gate and pushed against it with all her strength; she kept shrieking in pain while the flames were consuming her rapidly. The wood of the gate blackened, began to smoke and finally caught fire; as strength abandoned her in the agony of death, Calenfinn had the satisfaction to see the gate beginning to burn. Then, she closed her eyes and passed away.
Helpless, the other fifteen Entwives watched their companions burn and perish. Then, Fimbrethil rose at her full height and sent out a terrible shout, similar to a hundred horns of war; immediately, the other ones echoed her, shaking the city to its very foundations. Besiegers and defenders covered their ears at the dreadful sound.
Because of her inadequacy in combat, Nerwen had stayed in the rear, devoting herself to the care of the injured. Now she heard this appalling roar and recognised it; alarmed, she came out of the tent where she was organising bandages and ointments, and looked toward Ichidoragon; from the Easterling capital, smoke spirals were rising and in several spots, she could see flames reaching up to the cloud-streaked sky.
Distressed, she felt the urgency to go there, but Thilgiloth, even with all her speed, looked insufficient to her, hence, she turned her thoughts to Coeris, asking her if she was willing to take her to Ichidoragon. In answer, Manwë's emissary glided quickly, landing near her and bowing her shoulder to allow the Aini mounting on her. It was the first time that Nerwen rode an Eagle and she regretted it had to be such a tragic circumstance. She climbed quickly, positioning herself between the neck of the formidable bird of prey and the joining of her wings; at her mental beckon, Coeris took off and in less than a minute she was above the city. The forecourt opposite the citadel on top of the rocky hill was wide enough for her to land, therefore Nerwen was able to get off precisely in front of the castle.
The scene she took in made her heart shrink in affliction: four Entwives on the ground, burnt, one leaning against the gate that was still burning, and other fifteen Entwives, hand in hand in a semicircle in front of their fallen companions, weeping tears of green sap.
Seeing his wife, Aryon ran to her; Nerwen jumped down from Coeris' shoulders.
"What happened?" the Maia asked in an undertone.
"Calenfinn and the others were trying to rip off the gate," the prince told her, "but they threw at them pitch and flaming arrows. There was nothing we could do to save them," he concluded, sadly; there were so few Onodrim left, that the loss of five of them was an immense tragedy for all of Arda, "That one is Calenfinn," he added, pointing to the charred and formless heap that had been the Entwife who had welcomed them into the Land Between the Rivers. Tears welled up in Nerwen's eyes: she had been very close to Calenfinn, as much as she was with Fimbrethil and Olbranch.
Fimbrethil approached them.
"Victory has a very bitter taste," she affirmed in a disconsolate tone. Nerwen nodded slowly: she remembered the great victory of the Valar over Morgoth, but the price had been very high in terms of lives of Elves and Men; the Dwarves that had fought alongside the Forces of the West had been unjustly forgotten, but she recalled them.
"So it is, unfortunately," Aryon confirmed sadly, "especially considering that none of your companions had been so far injured or killed… and right in the end, five of them have fallen all at once."
"We will honour their memory forevermore," Fimbrethil affirmed, with a sigh that sounded like wind blowing through the fronds, "as our greatest heroines."
Meanwhile, the gate had burned down, collapsing; the smoking debris, as well as Calenfinn's remains, obstructed half of the doorway and made passage difficult.
"I don't want to risk other lives in the attempt to clear the entrance," the Avar prince said, glowering at the wrecked gate, "We'll give them one last opportunity to surrender, after that, we'll drive them out using fire."
"I will take care of it," Fimbrethil volunteered, as her sorrow-veiled gaze found back its usual calmness. She waited for the prince to nod his agreement, then she approached the citadel, but remaining well out of range from the potential pouring of new pitch.
"You, in the fortress!" she boomed in a voice so loud, it made the walls of the nearby buildings tremble, "We will grant you one last chance to save your lives, if you surrender immediately! Otherwise, we will set fire to your castle and you will burn to death like our companions. You have five minutes!"
Nerwen was sceptical.
"I don't think they'll surrender," she mumbled. Instead, three minutes later, a white cloth appeared on the windowsill of a window at the highest floor.
"We want to negotiate our surrender!" a voice shouted.
"Wait!" Fimbrethil shouted back, then she returned quickly to Aryon and Nerwen.
"Let's call Pallando," the prince suggested: as the commander in chief of the triple army, the king was the only one with the authority to conduct possible negotiations.
"I'll see to it," Nerwen said. She returned to Coeris, who had waited on the sidelines, and climbed again on her back. With a powerful stroke of her wings. which swept the forecourt like a whirlwind, the Eagle took flight and headed again for the encampment.
Warned, Pallando hastened to mount on his horse; Nerwen, sitting on Thilgiloth and with Túdhin on her heels, rode beside him and, escorted by Generals Voranya and Grellon with a squad of guards of honour, they headed for Ichidoragon. By now, the city had completely surrendered to the armies of the East: the last pockets of resistance had capitulated as soon as news spread of the emperor's surrender.
His troops and those of Varas and Dalad saluted Pallando's passage with equal enthusiasm, as he climbed the main street to the citadel. When he arrived there, the Blue Wizard halted within earshot.
"I am Pallando, King of Yòrvarem and commander in chief of the triple army," he introduced himself, "Who am I talking to?"
On the balcony above the shattered gate, a tall shape appeared, wearing a heavily decorated armour; a crown was set on his brow.
"I am Murai, monarch of the Easterling Empire," he introduced himself in a proud tone, "What are your terms of surrender?"
Pallando had discussed them with Nerwen and the two generals during their ride here.
"Your lives are to be spared," he answered therefore, as agreed, "and so all men and women living in Ichidoragon who will surrender to us. We will take all of your weapons. We will leave with no further hostile acts, but you and your family will come with us as our prisoners, as a guarantee that others of your people will not go and help Sauron in his war against the free peoples of Middle-earth."
Murai looked as if he was carefully pondering this offer.
"If I come with you, who'll stay and lead my people?" he asked. It was a sensible question and Pallando had foreseen it.
"You will appoint a lieutenant or a superintendant you trust and you will leave him or her here to lead the empire in your name," he therefore answered.
"How long shall we remain captive?" the emperor enquired.
"As long as needed," the Blue Wizard replied, "Surely at least until Sauron will be defeated."
"And who says he will be defeated?" Murai objected, then he shrugged, "This is of little consequence: should he prove the winner, you too, and your people, will be conquered, sooner or later; and should he prove the loser, you'll release me and my family. But what guarantees do I have, that you will keep your word?"
"More than my messenger had," Pallando declared in a crisp tone; even if Faron hadn't been one of his soldiers, his treacherously murder in spite of the white flag, under which protection he was standing, had him indignant, "You have to be content with my solemn promise, the promise of not only a King, but also of an Istar... if you know what this means."
The emperor's sudden paleness was discernible even from the distance.
"Yes... I know what this means," he admitted slowly, "Fine, I accept your word. How shall we proceed?"
Pallando turned to Aryon, who had come beside him at the beginning of the interview, and looked at him for advice.
"The defenders shall drop their weapons through the windows and walk out the gate, single-file," the Avar prince commanded, "When everyone's out and taken into custody, you'll let your family out: we know you have three wives and nine children, therefore you cannot hide any of them. Finally, when all of them are safe, you'll come out, unarmed."
"You won't give me the honours of war?"
"No," Aryon snapped in answer.
Mulai visibly clenched his jaw, but he didn't reply. He nodded curtly to show he had understood and retired without adding anything else.
Long minutes went by with no movement from the inside. Losing his patience, Aryon called:
"Well? We won't wait much longer! Drop your weapons or we'll set the castle on fire!"
A man came to a window near the balcony; not Murai, but another one, younger. In his hand, he held a dagger.
"There's no honour in captivity," he declared in a stentorian voice, then he placed the hilt of the weapon on the windowsill and, without a sound, stabbed himself on it.
Nerwen gasped in surprise and horror while realising what had happened inside the citadel.
"They all committed suicide," she affirmed. Aryon cast her a quick glance, then he nodded, agreeing in her deduction.
They entered, moving cautiously; on the stairs, they found several dead soldiers, some of them fallen on their own swords, others with cut throats or a knife planted into their hearts. They climbed to the first floor, the one with the balcony; in the great hall, there were at least two dozen people: various soldiers and officers, three women richly dressed, nine children of both genders, aged between two and twelve years, and the emperor. All dead.
Nerwen ran to the children, searching frantically for vital signs, in the hope to save someone; but it was too late and their souls had already left for the place where Eru Ilúvatar had decreed them to go after death, and she hadn't the power to call them back. She collapsed in a heap; Túdhin, almost forgotten in all the commotion, approached her and tapped his nose on her, trying to comfort her. The Aini straightened her back and stroke his side, grateful for his support. Then she turned, her eyes flashing.
"I curse thee, Mulai," she growled between gritting teeth, looking at the emperor with despise, "I can accept it for the adults, because they have the capacity and the power of choice, but I can not accept it for the children! I hope your soul will freeze into the Void and stay banned there for all eternity!"
A ryon got near her and pulled her gently up, then in his arms; he had never seen her so greatly distraught.
Nerwen grasped his jacket and buried her face into his chest. She could endure anything, but not the dreadful sight of nine children killed for the pride of the adults.
The prince took her outside, leaving to his deputy – a capable captain of Pallando's army – the task to take care of the bodies. They would give them whatever funeral honours were customary to the Easterlings: they were enemies, and even not very honourable, based on the way they had behaved with Faron the standard-bearer, but this didn't mean they would sink to their level, offending the dead.
OOO
The Entwives retrieved the charred remains of their five fallen companions and said their last goodbyes in the Onodrim way: they carried them into a near wood and laid them in a grave, dug among the trees, then they sang a long song, which narrated of birth, growth, decline, death and re-birth. Eventually, they covered them with turf and, above it, they planted flowers, ferns, shrubs and saplings. Nerwen, as Yavanna's emissary, attended to the rite and blessed the Enyd's tomb.
The next day, Coeris took her leave: her mission was complete and there was no need of her anymore. Nerwen and Pallando thanked her immensely for the assistance she had given them, and the Blue Wizard ordered an honour guard detail to bid her farewell. Hence, when the Eagle took off to fly away, one hundred soldiers of the three armies saluted her; Coeris answered by flying three laps over them, then she turned straight north-westwards and quickly disappeared in the light blue of the spring sky, heading for the Hithaeglir and the Eyrie of the Clouds.
Meanwhile, they set up a prison camp for the captive soldiers; many had followed the emperor's lead, killing themselves, but others had chosen otherwise. It wasn't easy organising the logistic of security for so many prisoners, but with the precious help of the Entwives, they erected a solid palisade close to the ravine of the cliff where Ichidoragon was built, where they locked up the enemy soldiers with tents and camping gear, enough to grant them a certain degree of comfort, separating men from women. They did likewise for the civilians, with the difference that they kept them inside the bastions, free to come and go as they pleased, but not to leave the city.
OOO
Four days after the fall of Ichidoragon, at dawn, Nerwen startled out of sleep when her Second Sight kicked in. Her sudden movement awoke Aryon; in the grey light, he saw from her facial expression that her mind was focused far away, so he remained silent and waited.
The Aini saw a vast battlefield, which she recognised: it was the same she had seen earlier, the white city of Minas Tirith on the background. Realising that the scene she was seeing was taking place this same moment, the Istar observed large fires burning in the plain, heavy smoke spreading all over, but this wasn't enough to justify the deep darkness covering everything like a thick layer, even if the Sun was rising, far in the east. With her mind's eye, Nerwen approached at great speed a specific spot on the battlefield, where a large black shape, mounting a fearsome winged creature, towered above another, much smaller shape: with a shudder of revulsion, Nerwen recognised the Witch-king, confronted by a soldier who seemed protecting a fallen man.
Begone, foul dwimmerlaik, lord of carrion! Leave the dead in peace! the Istar heard the warrior shout.
The Lord of Morgul answered coldly:
Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye!
The soldier drew his sword.
Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may.
Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!
To Nerwen's greatest surprise, the warrior laughed, then he took off his helmet. A long blond mane fell upon the soldier's shoulders and back; he spoke, and his voice was like the ring of steel.
But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Éowyn I am, Éomund's daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.
The winged beast gave a sickening cry and attacked the warrior maiden, who moved with great skill; with a fast sweep of her sword, she slashed the creature's neck, and it fell heavily to the ground. At that moment, the sun rose behind Éowyn's back, lighting her.
The Black Rider rose from the wreck of his mount and attacked the young woman with his enormous mace. Éowyn's shield shattered in a thousand pieces and she fell on her knees. The Witch-king wielded his mace again, ready to deliver the mortal strike.
But all of a sudden, he stumbled forward with a terrible cry of pain: a small shape had unexpectedly risen behind him, stabbing his knee and shearing its sinew. Flabbergasted, Nerwen recognised a Hobbit with a brown, curly mop.
Éowyn struggled to her feet and drove her sword between the crown and the cape of the large black shape. Her sword broke in many shards and she dropped forward upon her fallen foe, but incredibly cloak and hauberk proved empty. A piercing howl was heard, which vanished in the morning wind and faded in the distance.
Nerwen held her breath, incredulous: the terrible Witch-king of Angmar, Lord of Morgul, captain of the Ringwraiths, had been killed by a woman and a Hobbit.
Much more happened on the battlefield, as well as in the north, in Lórien and among the trees of the Woodland Realm, but Nerwen's vision stopped there; coming back to her senses, she looked at Aryon almost wildly.
"The battle I've seen while I was talking with Kementári is ongoing. The outcome is still very uncertain, but I noticed that the enemy forces on field are less than those I've seen in my first vision. Our intent to divert part of Sauron's armies from the assault on Gondor has proved successful... Now we must hope that Gondorians and Rohirrim will equally prove successful," she shook her head, still stupefied about what she had seen, "The captain of the Nazgûl is dead, killed by a Human girl and a Hobbit!"
Aryon furrowed his brow, uncertain, before recalling what Nerwen had told him who the Ringwraiths and the Hobbits were, both unknown to his people. She had told him also about Glorfindel's prophecy, according to which no Man would kill the Witch-king; and indeed, so it had happened.
"Until the Ring won't be destroyed, however, Middle-earth will still be in danger," the prince observed in a low voice. She nodded:
"Unfortunately you're right. I don't know how this is possible, but Yavanna has a feeling that the Hobbits, again, will play a fundamental role in this... and when an Ainu has a feeling, usually it becomes true," she concluded.
"Or when an Istar has a feeling," Aryon added, unaware that the Istari belonged to the Ainur: obviously, Nerwen couldn't tell him, therefore she simply nodded in agreement.
OOO
Several days passed, during which the Easterlings learned that they hadn't to fear abuse or gratuitous harassment from the triple army; very reluctantly, they began thinking that the enemy was honourable as much as themselves – even if Nerwen thought that their idea of honour was quite twisted: she would never forget the way they had defiled the white flag carried by Faron.
With their emperor and all his direct heirs dead, the Easterlings looked among his closest relatives for someone who could take his place; Pallando forced them to accept him and Nerwen as impartial arbiters, as to avoid a struggle over the succession. Eventually, with the approval of the two Istari, the Easterlings chose Sumire, eldest daughter of Murai's younger brother who had died the year before in a hunting accident. There was no coronation ceremony, but all the potentates of the empire living in Ichidoragon took their pledge of allegiance to the young woman; Nerwen came to the conclusion that Sumire had a great deal of good sense.
During those days, somebody began calling Pallando with the names of Shadow Conqueror and Protector of the East. Hearing them, Nerwen automatically translated them to Quenya as Morinehtar and Rómestámo. When these names were reported to the Blue Wizard, he shook them off asserting he didn't deserve them, the first one because with the term shadow one thought of Sauron and Pallando hadn't confronted him, he had only confronted some of his allies – who, moreover, had been overthrown with the aid of many and certainly not just by him alone – and the second one because he wasn't the sole monarch protecting the lands beyond the Orocarni. But the names had taken hold by now and would remain, with or without his approval.
OOO
It was the morn of the twenty-fifth day of March. Nerwen got up in a state of foreboding, a foreboding that caught also Aryon. The Istar put on her cloak, lifting its hood – overnight, a cold wind had begun blowing from the north – and left their tent; Aryon followed her, and together they headed for the western end of the large encampment.
"What happens, Nerwen?" the prince asked her softly. Her eyes were staring at the horizon, but there was nothing to see, or so seemed to him.
"I don't know," the Maia answered in an equally soft voice, "but something of vital importance is about to happen."
Shortly after, Pallando joined them; he, too, looked troubled.
"Something is about to happen," he affirmed, unaware that Nerwen had just said those same words to her husband.
"When I need it, my Second Sight never arrives!" the Aini snorted, frustrated.
They waited in silence; the two Istari's tension was evident and affected Aryon, too. Long minutes passed by; ten, then twenty. Finally, the wind ceased and the light dimmed as if Arien had veiled the burning chariot of the Sun; the sounds became fainter, then faded. No birdcall or rustling of leaves were audible, no voices or noises from the encampment. It looked like everything had stopped, even their breaths, even Time itself.
Unconsciously, Aryon and Nerwen moved their hands, found each other's and clasped them together.
They continued waiting for several more, unending moments.
Eventually, the ground beneath their feet shifted, but it didn't feel like an earthquake; even the air seemed to vibrate and they heard what sounded like the sigh of someone who had held his breath for too long a time. The light became vivid again and they heard the usual sounds of the world.
In their hearts rose an unexpected gaiety, ad if all of a sudden, a great weight had been lifted from their shoulders.
Nerwen and Pallando exchanged incredulous gazes.
"Do you think that Sauron...?" the Blue Wizard began.
"...has been destroyed!" the Maia concluded, before turning to Aryon, her eyes wide in joy and relief, "The Enemy is no more!"
"How can you be sure of it?" the Avar prince enquired; he, too, had perceived the signs, but he didn't dare believing in the hope that was flaring up in his heart.
"There's no other explanation to the relief I feel," Nerwen said, "I feel it in the air... I feel it in the ground..." she expanded her special Ainurin senses and touched the mind of the nearest olvar and kelvar, Thilgiloth, Túdhin, Allakos, Kerra, Fimbrethil, Olbranch, and of the soldiers of the triple army, and farther, to the wood where Calenfinn and her four companions had been buried, where all plants and animals sent her back the same feeling of liberation and joy, "I feel it in every living being I can perceive," she looked again at her husband, "I must speak immediately to Yavanna."
She hurried back to their tent and found Thilgiloth and Túdhin waiting for her.
What's up? The Chargeress asked her, as the wolf brushed her hand with his muzzle, gazing questioningly at her.
It looks like Sauron has been defeated, Nerwen answered, To be completely certain, I'll get in touch with Kementári.
Thilgiloth stayed outside the tent – which was of course too small to contain her – but Túdhin entered with her. Aryon was about to go and fetch something to eat and drink for her after returning, but Pallando stopped him:
"I will take care of this," he said, "You shall assist your wife."
The Aver prince thanked him with a nod and followed Nerwen, who was already lying on their pallet. Now she smiled at him, grateful: she always appreciated knowing him by her side while she was elsewhere.
Yavanna welcomed her with a wide smile of pure joy that made her beam. To Nerwen's surprise, at her side was her husband Aulë; then, the place where they stood became more distinct and Nerwen's heart jumped to her throat out of thrill and surprise: she was in Mahanaxar, the Ring of Doom, where all the Valar were gathered.
Welcome, Nerwen Laiheri, said Manwë Súlimo, You conducted your mission successfully: you found the Entwives, and their contribution to the fight against Sauron favoured his demise: the One Ring has been destroyed in the Cracks of Doom, among the flames of Orodruin where it had been forged.
Nienna the Wise, Lady of Mourning, intervened in a grave tone:
Barad-dûr has fallen and the Eye is extinguished forevermore: Sauron's soul is wrecked and has followed the soul of his former master Morgoth in the Void, where it will remain until the Dagor Dagorath.
Even if she had already guessed what had occurred, Nerwen felt now overwhelmed with joy.
But how did it happen? she asked, wanting to know more.
As Kementári supposed, Manwë answered, in the end, the destiny of the world has been decided by an apparently insignificant being, a member of a race that never meddled with the great events of Middle-earth: a Hobbit. His name is Frodo Baggins.
The Istar furrowed her brow: this name wasn't new to her.
Let's not forget his faithful companion Sam Gamgee, intervenedNámo the Judge, who was called Mandos, talking solemnly, Even that wretched creature, Sméagol called Gollum, who kept the Ring for so many years that it had devoured him, played a fundamental, even if involuntary, role in its destruction.
Your mission is completed, Yavanna declared, gazing affectionately upon her follower, As much as the mission of the other Istari. You all can come back to Valinor as soon as you wish; and now more than ever, the Eldar, too, who want to leave Middle-earth are welcome, including obviously Aryon Morvacor.
Nerwen was silent, pondering on those words.
If my mission is completed, have I your permission to reveal my true nature, at least to my husband? she asked, talking slowly.
There is no reason anymore for you to keep from him who you really are, Manwë answered, Choose by yourself to whom else you want to disclose it.
Nerwen curtseyed respectfully:
Thank you, Súlimo.
They were all silent for a moment, before Yavanna resumed talking.
You did well, disciple mine, she said with ostensible pride, You have our gratitude, and with you also all the other Istari who contributed to the victory over Sauron: Olórin, Aiwendil, Pallando. We await you all here in Valimar, whenever you will return. Now you can go, and may the road rise to meet you.
Again, Nerwen curtseyed respectfully, then she turned and, in her mind, visualised a door. She passed through it and everything vanished in a white mist.
A moment later, her eyes fluttered open and she met Aryon's bright gaze.
"Welcome back, sweetheart," he murmured, as he usually did, addressing her his typical little smile. She returned it lovingly:
"Thank you..."
Then she turned her gaze on Túdhin, who licked her hand as a greeting sign.
"All is confirmed," Nerwen went on, as her husband helped her sitting up, "The One Ring has been destroyed: Sauron is defeated and his soul banished in the Void. He will threaten Middle-earth never again."
Aryon handed her bread, butter and honey.
"Eat," he exhorted her, "I'll inform Pallando, who will take care of announcing this to everybody. I'll come back with a cup of hot tea."
When he returned, he found Nerwen had already devoured her breakfast, but he didn't smile, as he knew how debilitating her journeys were. He gave her the bergamot-scented tea, which the cooks brew expressly for them, and she took it, thanking him with a smile. He had brought a mug for himself, too, so they drank together; when they finished, Nerwen took his hand.
"My love, the time has come for me to reveal you my true origin..."
OOOOO
Author's corner:
I apologise to all those who were expecting the description of a great battle in the style of the Pelennor Fields or Helm's Deep, but unlike Tolkien, I haven't the necessary technical competence, therefore I preferred a summary of the facts.
The "nicknames" given to Pallando are actually the alternative names Tolkien had thought at a later stage for the Blue Wizards; the translation is a bit arbitrary because I don't like the literal one: Killer of the Darkness and Helper of the East simply don't sound good, at least for me.
I wanted to revisit the scene of the duel between Éowyn and the Witch-king because it is one of the most thrilling scenes in the book; while the scene in which Nerwen, Aryon and Pallando perceive Sauron's demise is deliberately similar to the one that, at that same moment, is happening in Minas Tirith with Éowyn, Faramir and Merry. Both these scenes are intended as homage to the Oxford Professor's masterpiece.
By now, we have reached and are over the climax of the tale; and like in Tolkien's priceless work, my story is slowly coming to a close: some more chapters and then this adventure – which length I absolutely didn't foresee, at the time I began to write – will be over. Meanwhile, I thank all those who are following and, I hope, appreciating it, reviewing it or also just reading it.
Lady Angel
