DHORLACH PART THREE

A dark figure watched silently from behind the broken columns that once had graced the entrance to Moria. He gazed in wonder and not a little fear at the first High Elven Lady that he had ever seen. He saw her bend over the figure beside her and thought she glowed like cold starlight over the plains of Dunland, his home.

In her, the watcher saw all that he had lost in the past years of death and destruction. Whether it was some evil of the Dark Lord at work or simply the corrupted heart of one that long ago abandoned honor for power and found neither, none could ever afterward say. But there bloomed in him a great and terrible desire to possess the beauty he beheld. And beneath it all, lay a fear of this beauty because he could not hope to understand it. Out of his fear grew anger and so from the first he determined he would take Eloëssa by force.

The watcher's name was Dhorlach. He had once been a powerful prince among the Dunlendings. Against the command of his father, he had taken many thousands of their men into war against the Rohirrim. He allied with Wulf, lord of a domain bordering Rohan, who wanted to conquer that country and sit on the throne at Edoras. Wulf promised rich lands to Dhorlach, especially those along Dunland's eastern border. He even dangled the prospect of granting Dhorlach the rich vale of Isengard. Dhorlach rode into battle envisioning himself enthroned in the Tower of Orthanc.

The Riders of Rohan fought hard, but they were overcome and the survivors fled to the refuge of the stone fortress called the Hornburg. The Men of Gondor were busy with their own battles in the South and could not then aide the people of Rohan. Wulf did indeed come to the King's House at Edoras. He sent his ally Dhorlach to finish off the resistance at the Hornburg. Dhorlach encamped around the stone fortress with vast numbers of men. He mounted a fearsome siege and threw wave after wave of attack against the unbreakable stone walls of the Hornburg. Finally he thought to starve them out.

Then came the Long Winter. The snows fell without ceasing from November to March. No one could remember a colder winter. The stock died and food ran out. Dhorlach put his army on short rations. Dhorlach's men rounded up and slaughtered for food the herds of horses that ranged over the plains of Rohan. Wulf refused to call off the siege. Dhorlach picked off the few Rohirrim foolish enough to venture out of the fortress. He felt no particular mercy for them; a weak and vanquished people, he thought.

One day, Dhorlach received word of a small war party foraying out from the Hornburg. Cold and hungry, he decided to seek distraction by going after them himself. He took those of his men not weakened by hunger or disease and set out. He came upon the small group and there was a quick, brutal battle. The Rohirrim were weak with hunger and they were swiftly surrounded and disarmed.

Dhorlach decided to make an example of them. He stripped the men of Rohan and drove them naked through the snow to within sight of the fortress walls, but out of bowshot. He staked each of them out to die in the cold night. A guard was set over them to make sure they were not rescued.

Dhorlach saw figures on the wall watch helplessly as the men shivered and shook and then shivered no more. He knew that one of the men who died was called Hama, son of Helm. He knew that one of the figures who watched from the walls was Helm, King of Rohan.

Dhorlach went back to his camp, satisfied he had sent a clear message about who was in charge of the Hornburg. Soon afterwards, however, things began to go wrong. Patrols did not come back. Guards on watch disappeared. Dhorlach's men began to mutter and refuse to approach the Hornburg when ordered.

Rumors flew that Helm came out of the fortress and even though alone and unarmed, he defeated any man he encountered. It was even whispered he ate the men he killed. Dhorlach was never sure if it was Helm, or the wolves that were rampant in the land, but men disappeared and few bodies were found. Dhorlach hunted constantly for Helm, setting many traps for him over the long five months of winter. Helm was never caught. Dhorlach lost almost all his men to weather, disease, desertion or Helm's depredations.

A surprise attack poured out of the fortress in the early spring, scattering what little remained of Dhorlach's vast army. Dhorlach was forced north and west along the foothills with only a few men. Some of his men fled into the Fangorn Forest and disappeared forever.

He was attacked again and again; first by the Rohirrim and later by Men of Gondor, lately come to the aide of their ally. He heard Wulf was ejected from Edoras and executed. All Dhorlach's plans were as nothing. He was now a hunted outlaw in a foreign land. Having gone against his father's command, squandered the lives of thousands of men, and now with no lands or riches to show for it, his life would be forfeit in his own country.

Alone, hunted, and blaming all but himself for his lot, he wandered for many months. He ventured farther and farther in to the Misty Mountains, until one cold night he found himself before the ancient Gates of Moria.

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Dhorlach watched Eloëssa slump exhaustedly near the man she had called her brother. He had seen the first brother foolishly obey the woman's command to go look for firewood and so leave this treasure alone and unguarded. There was little fuel in the area, as Dhorlach knew from days spent wandering these paths.

Dhorlach also thought that the Elven warrior headed in the direction where he himself had stumbled on an Orcs' den two days before. Dhorlach understood from experience that Orcs were vile and vicious creatures, but found they could be useful, as long as one dealt with them from a position of strength. Alone and on his own, Dhorlach avoided them whenever possible. He knew how the dozen or more Orcs he'd seen would deal with a single warrior, no matter how skilled.

Dhorlach made his decision. The sick one looked near death. But the first brother could prove fortunate in avoiding the Orcs and come back any moment. Now was the time to move.

Dhorlach circled around in the dark. The moonlight and the wind that might carry his scent to the horses were his greatest enemies. He had lived so long as a veritable animal and without the means or desire to bathe that his scent was barely recognizable to the horses as human. Still, he remained downwind of them. Eloëssa stirred from her troubled doze and Dhorlach went still. She subsided and was quiet again.

He inched closer and closer to his prize. Quick as a hawk stoops to take a rabbit, he grabbed Eloëssa. He knew silence was essential. He had a dirty rag in his hand and forced it deeply into her mouth when she opened it to scream. He dragged her backwards with an arm around her mouth and throat, and at the same time pinched her nose, so that she had to concentrate all her attention on trying to breathe rather than fight. The horses made uneasy noises. The mare Vesta neighed in distress, clear as a trumpet in the night. Celemedril did not move on the ground. But Dhorlach knew his time was short.

Eloëssa was tall and strong, valiant in her own defense. Dhorlach had more trouble keeping hold of her than he expected. But he was a merciless man hardened by siege, battle and endless killing, who had in turn been hunted like an animal for over a year. Here was one treasure he would not yield, though all the old Kings of Numenor come upon him at once!

Eloëssa did not know how far her captor dragged her. She fought him with all her strength but when she struggled too much, he cut off her air through mouth and nose until darkness swam in her eyes and she stopped. She knew he was a Man and not an Elf by his size and the remnants of armor about his body. A sword of Dunlending origin was at his side, catching on tumbled rocks in the path as they pelted along it. He appeared dark haired and tall for a Man. His hair was long and lank and a wild beard covered what she could see of his face. She concentrated on these details to fend off the terror that beat like a wild bird in her chest.

Suddenly he veered to one side and pulled her into a rough grotto of rock that was barely noticeable until one passed it. Once around a shoulder of rock, she saw the grotto formed a wide-mouthed cave that was partially open to the sky. This was apparently where her captor had made a camp of sorts.

He flung her to the ground, and rocks stabbed her in the back. He followed right down on top of her, not caring he forced the breath from her lungs with his weight. Eloëssa struggled to keep conscious and not panic. She made small whimpers behind her gag and despised how helpless they sounded. She again tried to fight, scratching at his eyes and face, pushing at his chest. Dhorlach laughed and pulled at her clothing, intent on full possession of what he had stolen.

Eloëssa almost despaired. Then, as if he were right in front of her, she heard Eömeril's voice saying, "Stay alert. Here is your knife." Her knife! It was in the sheath at her waist. In her surprise and fear at the attack, she had forgotten it. She made herself go limp and her arms fell to her sides.

Dhorlach readied himself to take what he wanted. Her right hand moved slowly to her knife and drew it carefully from its sheath. She grasped the hilt as if it were the most precious thing she'd ever held.

As her brothers had long ago taught her, she quickly plunged the knife with all her strength up and under, into the soft part of his belly. To her dismay, she felt the blade strike something hard, a rib perhaps, and glance off to make only a long shallow slice along his side. The knife clattered to the ground. But it was enough. Dhorlach howled and plunged backwards.

Eloëssa jumped up and ran for the opening of the grotto, not looking back. She was almost there when she was caught by the waist from behind. Dhorlach threw her up against the rock wall and let her drop. She struck her head on the stone and fell to the ground stunned.

He straddled her and this time he grabbed her hands to bind them with a leather belt. Now he held both her hands in one of his, easily subduing her. Though bleeding from the wound she inflicted, he immediately returned to the task her attack interrupted.

Dhorlach plundered his treasure with mindless abandon. Eloëssa's mind now turned in upon itself and for an endless time, knew only darkness.