In An Age Before – Part 294
Chapter One hundred seventy-one
The Lord of Moria – The Third Age of the Sun
Now the way 'twixt Methedras and Moria ran seventy leagues as the Eagle flies, but afoot that high trail wound for closer to a hundred and thirty as it traced the contours of mountainsides and the bays 'twixt their arms. Helluin had walked that path aforetime and found little changed now save for the erosion from eight to nine centuries of weather cracking the stone.
The cycles of winter freezing and spring thaw had wrought their gradual and inexorable degradation on the rock. Still, there was a continuous path to be found and in places even signs of maintenance, but not the well-considered work of the Gonnhirrim. 'Twas rather the grudging and haphazard labor of local Yrch in past centuries, rough and minimal, as if they had attacked the stone as a hated foe, but 'twas functional ne'ertheless.
For three weeks Helluin walked along the eastern heights of the Hithaeglir looking downhill, first into the dark fastness of Fangorn Forest and after, onto the rough lands stretching 'twixt the rivers Limlight and Silverlode. Just north of Fangorn, she passed the ravine down which a rough trail descended, and which she had taken in the company of Glorfindel, Galadhon, Thórá, and Gwingion in 1974. Calaquendi and Gondolindrim all, they had come from Imladris at Elrond's behest to beseech Helluin to return, for Fornost was besieged and Rivendell invested. 'Twas the same trail down which Hokurzêmar had once driven Mikbork-sum and the other Uruks of Moria to the Battle of the Field of Celebrant in 2510.
On 26 Ivanneth, Helluin looked upon the mellyrn of Lothlórien as she passed through the deep-cloven bay wherefrom rose the headwaters of the river Nimrodel. Two days later, 'nigh dawn on 28 Ivanneth, Helluin carefully rounded one last headland and gazed down into the great vale of Azanulbizar. What she saw there shocked her to the core.
In the failing darkness, the twinkle of torches revealed a long column of many Uruk-hai on foot and many Warg riders returning to the sanctuary of Moria's east gate. Behind them, astride the road from the sward surrounding the Mirrormere were set a ring of torches on poles where the Yrch had held their conclave, and in their wavering light, Helluin saw eleven posts upon which were impaled the bodies of Werewolves. It seemed that the Uruks of Moria had rebelled and thrown off the yoke of their masters.
Rightly did Mikbork-sum count their number, Helluin thought. 'Twas hardly out of character for Yrch to depose their leaders, and as usual, those o'erthrown had not survived. 'Twas actually more surprising that the carcasses had not been eaten.
The Noldo waited 'til broad daylight ere she dared take the path that descended from the high trail into Nanduhirion. By then, the pole-mounted torches had burnt out, but the grisly tableau was hardly less gruesome 'neath the sun. Helluin advanced 'til she stood before the circle of impaled Werewolves, marking that each had been set upright after the sharpened ends of the posts had been thrust through their bodies from anus to mouth.
Now Helluin gave thought to the wounds she saw on their bodies, and these gave her pause. Had the Uruks slain the eleven Werewolves, she would have expected them to be covered in a multitude of wounds from sword, spear, and arrow, but this was not the case. It appeared that they had not fallen to a mass assault by hundreds. Rather, there were a few arrows, none fatal, and some slashes from blades, also superficial, and all of these wounds perhaps inflicted post-mortem. What had slain them, in each and e'ery case, was one or two thrusts from a larger weapon, and these wounds were invariably surrounded by burnt hair and skin. It seemed that teams of Uruks had wielded spears as thick as the posts upon which the corpses had been impaled, and these with heads heated to red in braziers filled with embers that set their shafts aflame when they struck. She shook her head in amazement, marveling at the apparent evidence of teamwork. Such was hardly the hallmark of the Yrch.
'Round noon, after an exhaustive examination that satisfied her curiosity as to cause of death, Helluin took her leave of the gruesome exhibition and made her way east down Celebrant towards Lothlórien. She had tidings to share and by informing Galadriel, she knew that the rest of the White Council would soon be apprised as well. Ere entering the Golden Wood though, the Noldo took the time to thoroughly bathe and clean her armor. She suspected that the stench of her dozen years' persecution of the Yrch in Methedras still clung to her kit and she was loath to subject her friends to the reek of death. The black-dyed cloak howe'er she discarded as hopeless.
After deeming herself presentable, Helluin continued down the Dwarf Road that paced Celebrant, but after five hours' walk, she came to the crossroads and continued east towards Anduin. Night was falling by then, but t'would make no difference to the sharp-eyed Elves. Shortly after crossing the bridge o'er Nimrodel, Helluin was met by Haldir and his company of marchwardens. This she had expected, though for their part, the Galadhrim seldom expected her. Now, unlike at their first meeting in S.A. 151 when they were disbelieving and suspicious of her, Haldir and his border guards greeted the Noldo warmly.
"Mae govannen, meldis nín," he said, clasping forearms with her in greeting, "I hope thou hast been well."
"Mae govannen, meldir nín, I have again emptied Methedras, but now I bear tidings of Moria to the Lady," Helluin said.
"Of course thou hast tidings," Haldir replied with a chuckle, "for it hath been centuries since thy last visit. Are they privy matters or something we should know here on the closest border?"
After a moment to weigh his question, Helluin decided to share.
"I have come from Nanduhirion where yesternight a company of Warg riders and Uruk-hai created a display of sculpture. There stands now a circle of eleven posts and upon each rests an impaled Werewolf. One amongst them was previously Gijakûrz-kargor, Lord of Moria, but t'would seem that his subjects have seen fit to depose him. I know not for certain what this may portend."
Haldir's face grew grim then, and he cast a glance uphill towards Moria. Of course, he was too far away to see 'aught through the trees, but 'twas a reflex, to face potential danger.
"I wager this can portend no good," he finally said, "for we had not been assailed aforetime during the rule of this Werewolf Gijakûrz-kargor, and if he is now deposed, I cannot imagine our cause improved."
"Nor can I, my friend," Helluin said. "I can only bid thee mind the border with care and soon, perhaps, Lady Artanis shall have some new wisdom to share. I should make haste."
He nodded to her in agreement, saying, "Thou knows the way and I shall not hinder thee, meldis ifant nín. Pray be well 'til next we meet."
"And thee and thy brothers, my old friend, stay safe."
As Haldir explained what she had told him to the rest of the border guards, Helluin took her leave of the company. She chose a pace she could maintain through the woodland and jogged south amongst the mellyrn heading for Caras Galadhon. The city lay roughly fifty miles from the juncture of the rivers Celebrant and Nimrodel, and the Noldo covered the distance in eight hours.
Helluin arrived at the gates in the hour ere the dawn of 29 Ivanneth. She looked about the sward outside the fosse, feeling it strange that Álfrhestr was no longer living there to greet her. On her way 'round the paved path from the north, she had heard the tittering of the watchers on their flets within the encircling hedge wall and so she deemed that Celeborn and Galadriel would know of her coming ere she entered the city. This proved true as a company of sentries met her at the gates, conveying the Lord and Lady's welcome.
After offering food and drink, which Helluin gratefully accepted, they led her to the ladder ascending to the royal talan and bid her farewell. Helluin climbed, and as the view expanded 'neath her she could not help but gripe, they could stand to employ some of Durin's folk for the fabrication of a power lift such as was used to reach the deep mines in Khazad-dûm…ahhh well.
Following a climb up the ladder that felt like fifteen fathoms, Helluin reached the royal talan, finding it unchanged from her last visit several centuries aforetime. Celeborn and Galadriel were already awaiting her and they shared warm greetings though the lord and lady appeared worried as well. They had obviously already received some of her tidings by esoteric means.
"Welcome, meldis nín, 'tis good to see thee again after so long," the lord said, then added straight-faced, "despite that thou art living up to the reputation of thy people by delivering tidings of violent trouble to come."
Helluin groaned and Artanis stifled a smile whilst her husband jested as a Sinda might o'er the disfame of the Noldor by his people.
"I assure thee, my lord, that I had no intention of witnessing 'aught," Helluin replied, "but having done so, I would not that thy realm be taken at unawares despite thy wife's far seeing."
The Lord of Lothlórien nodded, conceding the point as the hint of a grin shaped his lips.
"Once within the Golden Wood, my beloved is able to hear well 'nigh 'aught that is spoken should she set her will to it, and so we now know what Haldir knows. Yet we deem there is more, and I appreciate thine industry in coming hither," he said. Then, as if unable to resist the impulse, he added, "I shall not banish thee forthwith, at least not 'til after hearing thy rede."
"Greatly do I appreciate thy forbearance, my lord, and I shall endeavor to proffer such gloomy prognostications as to make my banishment inevitable," Helluin said, offering her old friend a dip of her head.
Galadriel chuckled and said, "Pray fear not for thy welcome, my old friend, my husband is not so severe. Now come and join us for a proper fast-breaking. I am sure that, having yet to employ some of Durin's folk for the fabrication of a power lift, thine earlier respite of porridge and goat's milk at the gate has been spent in thy climb."
Helluin groaned and cast her eyes to the canopy o'erhead. That Ring shall be the death of me yet, she thought as she nodded to the invitation for a proper breakfast. "T'would be my pleasure to accept, dear friend, and if thou and thy husband would have it so, I shall parlay on thy behalf with Thrór's folk in Erebor, for I recently won their favor with the dismissal of several Dragons."
Both the lord and lady raised their brows in question and the trio settled 'round a table laden with fruit juices, baked wafers flavored with maple syrup and minced nuts, fresh fruit, poached hens' eggs, and simmered cereal. There they spent several hours trading tidings and Helluin told of her time defeating the Dragons of the Ered Mithrin and the transmutation of the Fëanicse. The tale birthed great wonder, especially in Celeborn.
"Wait, wait, I pray thee, Helluin! Say thou that this Aiwendil proffered thy Dwarvish friend Kallfelak a riding pony of two faces? And he is one of the Ithryn?" the lord asked, unable to constrain his astonishment.
"Aye, just so, Lord Celeborn," Helluin replied, "and its right head was sober whilst its left was forgetful. It shared both a body and a name, Fola."
"Why would one of the Wise besaddle the Dwarf so? Was it done as some cruel jest?"
"Nay, for I deem that Aiwendil has not a malicious bone in his body. 'Tis simply that he hath neither horses nor ponies with single heads, my lord," Helluin replied.
The lord sat a moment with mouth agape in incredulity. Finally, he turned to his wife and asked, "Knew thou this Aiwendil from the West?"
"Nay, I knew him only vaguely by reputation in Aman. I deemed we held no interests in common during those days and he was not much for socializing or attending court. Ne'er did we meet in the Blessed Realm."
Celeborn nodded and sat thinking a moment, then a memory came to him and he said, "I recall now that thou said just so at the council in Imladris when Helluin first spoke of the arrival of the Ithryn. I had no notion then of how strange he was…is."
"I met him from time to time during my own explorations," Helluin explained. "He oft spent great tracts of time abiding amongst the creatures of Aman, particularly 'aught awing." She then offered an illustrative anecdote. "E'er wont to learn from such kelvar, he sequestered himself in a cavern upon a time to confederate with some bats. Alas, in the dimness, he lost all sense of the passing time and his fána became encrusted with such a dense carapace of guano that he was eventually unable to move. He was forced to abandon it there and form another after returning to the surface. I wager it remains in that cavern 'neath the Pelóri to this day.
Aiwendil was still chagrined when we spoke of it three centuries later, but he had managed to learn their tongue of squeaks and chitterings and considered the ordeal profitable." Helluin chuckled at the recollection whilst Galadriel looked disgusted and Celeborn astonished.
Finally, they passed to other topics and to the most recent last.
"So thou reckon the Uruk-hai of Moria rebelled against their Werewolf o'erlords and freed themselves?" Celeborn asked, just to be sure.
"From the testimony of Mikbork-sum, the last Uruk of Methedras, and what I witnessed in Nanduhirion yestermorn, I deem it so," Helluin said.
"And no doubt the Yrch of Moria have chosen them a new master," Celeborn opined.
"Dost thou believe this new master is an Orch?" Galadriel asked.
"I believe 'tis so," Helluin said, "for none now save Sauron might create Werewolves as was told to me aforetime by their lieutenant Hokurzêmar, and so if his captain Gijakûrz-kargor was deposed, then I reckon 'twas not on Sauron's orders."
Galadriel and Celeborn nodded, accepting her reasoning, and their faces were grim. It seemed that the Glamhoth of Moria was independent now and whatsoe'er that might mean for Lothlórien would only be revealed o'er time. As Haldir had believed, that they had not been attacked whilst a Werewolf ruled seemed to bode ill, for the Yrch were bitter foes, but a servant of Sauron might have been constrained by orders. After trading a glance, they turned back to Helluin.
"Dark as they have proven, I thank thee for thy tidings, Helluin," Celeborn said. The corner of his mouth twitched up a fraction and he added, "Thou hast lived up to the disfame of thy people once again."
Helluin groaned and Galadriel chuckled.
"I am pleased not to have disappointed, my lord," the Noldo said, dipping her head to the Lord of Lothlórien. "Art thou sure that I should not speak with King Thrór's wrights about constructing a lift?"
"Valar forbid," Artanis exclaimed with mock horror, "were access hither so easy we should not enjoy a moment's peace thereafter. T'would be like Ost-in-Edhil all o'er again."
"Perish the thought," Celeborn muttered whilst shaking his head.
"Very well," said Helluin, "'tis still an hour ere noon and I have far to travel. I shall take my leave, mellyn nín."
They rose from the table and Helluin bowed to the lord and lady who dipped their heads in return and offered a fond farewell.
"Be safe upon thy road, Helluin. Despite all thy tidings of doom, I wish thee well," Celeborn said.
"Safe travels 'til next we meet, dear friend. Alas, I feel the coming centuries shall be hard," Artanis said, "for much now moves to find its end."
"And yet 'tis I who am known for my words of doom," Helluin said, trading glances with the lady.
I cannot yet see all, Helluin, but after a fell winter there shall be many trials, Galadriel told her silently, eye to eye. Either all our hopes cometh or all hope ends, but either way, our peoples' time is soon to pass. Be thee ware of Moria, old friend. Vaguely, I feel a darkness abiding therein far greater than any Werewolf.
Helluin gulped and replied, I shall heed thy warnings, my friend. I hope ne'er to set foot in the Black Chasm again, for what it hath become stands starkly at odds with all I remember. For now, I return to Norðr-vestandóttir Bý to resume the watch upon Dol Guldur, yet perhaps the east is now the lesser threat.
Nay, the east is still a threat and the darkness of Moria has long been. I pray Eru grants me clarity, but for now, all my sight of the mines is shrouded in shadows. Only am I glad to learn that the north may be safer than aforetime.
Helluin could but nod in agreement to that. The Fëanicse would guard against threats from the Withered Heath. In somber mood they parted and in somber mood the dark Noldo made her way north through the Golden Wood. There was still much she did not know.
Helluin was not the only one encumbered by her ignorance that day. Centuries would pass ere most was made clear, and though some things would ne'er be known even by the Wise, from later events much of what came to pass in Moria may be guessed.
The Yrch had indeed deposed their Werewolf masters, but 'twas not so simple as a mass uprising. Alone they would ne'er have thrown off the yoke of Sauron's appointed lord in Khazad-dûm. All the hundreds of Uruk-hai and Warg riders in Moria could not have o'erthrown Gijakûrz-kargor and his ten subordinates unaided, for they were ruled and constrained by fear. Fear of the Werewolves and fear of the Master of Flesh and Bone far off in Dol Guldur kept them petrified. The Dark Lord had made Bloody Fang the Lord of Moria, to rule in his stead. None of the Yrch would have dared to oppose him, but the Werewolves, the Uruk-hai, and their Wargs were not alone in Durin's realm. Long ere their coming, a power far greater and far older than they had abode therein.
It cannot be known whether any of Sauron's creatures pondered what had driven the Dwarves from their ancient halls. Common sense would claim that surely some of them must have wondered how the realm came to be emptied, but perhaps such contemplation was beyond them, for each bowed to the will of the one above even as they plotted to replace them, all whilst trying to appear blameless in order to survive, and these considerations ruled their days.
The Werewolves were created by Sauron from Easterling Men and northern White Wolves, of whom neither kindred knew 'aught of Moria. Their master provided little such lore, deeming it none of their concern, for they had been bred to command, and in that way, they had been bred to serve his purposes. 'Aught that he deigned to share was only given to ensure that they would find and bring forth tribute, particularly mithril. Later, it became evident that even he knew not all of Moria's secrets. Thus, the greater of the Dark Lord's servants came to the abandoned halls of Durin's folk in ignorance, and in ignorance, they remained.
The Uruk-hai and the Warg riders had for the most part been bred far away in Sauron's redoubt beside the Sea of Rhûn. Like the Werewolves, they knew no lore of Khazad-dûm and Sauron had told them 'naught. Having been bred only to serve, they had even less need to know than the Werewolves, and so they too came to Moria in ignorance.
Now in latter days 'twas strongly suspected by the Wise that in their search for plunder, some of the Uruks had dared to tread the depths of Moria's mines, and there they had been confronted by Durin's Bane. The Yrch no doubt felt o'erwhelming terror at that meeting. They would have attempted to follow their predisposition to cowardice and flee. Yet they were newcome to the deeps and knew not its ways, and so they were easily trapped by the walls of fire.
"What wouldst ye hither, servants of the God of Darkness?" asked the Voice of Fire.
The Uruks saw no figure, only a wall of flames and behind it, a Shadow impenetrable to their sight. Then some wailed in despair and some slew themselves, but with the fatalism of their kind, one stood forth and dared answer, for he could see that neither gain nor loss were left within his choice.
"We are ordered by the Master of Flesh and Bone to offer tribute. His appointed Lord of Moria commands that we seek mithril."
Then the fires leapt up and Shadow encompassed the Uruks, but they were not the object of the anger for upon a time they had all served the same master. Yet the Voice of Fire had been in the beginning coeval with the Master of Flesh and Bone and Mairon had begun as 'naught but a spy in Almaren. But in the passing of the time 'neath the stars, that corrupted smith had won the favor of Morgoth and was made his lieutenant. Then he had surrounded himself with ghosts and Werewolves and held the tower of Tol Sirion in their god's name whilst the Spirits of Fire had fought and died in Morgoth's wars.
The Voice of Fire recalled the Fall of Gondolin whereat his own lord, Gothmog, High Captain of Angband was slain, and others of his kindred too had fallen, even from the heights of the Cirith Thoronath, whilst Mairon had played no part. And after, when the Host of Valinor had come to wage the War of Wrath, many more Spirits of Fire had been destroyed, but Mairon, by then known as Sauron Gorthaur, had surrendered and sued for mercy. As the God of Darkness was bound and cast into the Void, Sauron fled his own judgment, but he had not joined the others who had retreated north or east in hope of continuing the war one day.
"What Lord of Moria?"
"The Werewolf Gijakûrz-kargor and his ten followers," the Orc answered
Then the fires rose and the Shadow darkened again, and he quailed before the rage of the Voice of Fire. The redoubt 'neath the greatest peaks that the Voice of Fire had chosen long ago had been violated, first by Aulë's spawn digging too close to go unpunished, and now by Werewolves, the servants of Sauron who had the insolence to claim a realm the Voice had only recently freed. Moria was a stronghold that would not be ceded to the cowardly Lieutenant of Angband, nor would it host his emissaries unchallenged.
"Bring hither thy Lord of Moria and his kind, and when they are gone, thy kind shall live in the upper halls, to hold them against all others including this Master of Flesh and Bone!"
Then the Orch grinned, for if this great one's hatred ran concurrent with his own, he counted himself fortunate beyond hope. Like the Voice of Fire, he was no friend of Gijakûrz-kargor and his ilk. He bowed low before the flames and the Shadow, for 'twas a truth that if one must serve, then one should serve the greatest master possible.
"As thou command," he said, "I shall bring them hither to their doom."
Like the Spirits of Fire, the Uruks had served Morgoth faithfully and as a reward, they had died by the millions. Unlike the Dwarves who had unwittingly defended the approaches to this redoubt, the Uruks would do so willingly. The fires subsided a pace and the Shadow lessened, and the Voice of Fire made an offer.
"Upon their fall, thou shalt lead thy folk. What is thy name, Commander Pending of Uruks?"
And the Orch declared his name before the master he would willingly serve 'til the end of his days.
"I am called Azog! I will serve!"
In the coming days all that was planned there in the deeps was done. Azog and his party led Gijakûrz-kargor and the other Werewolves hence, claiming that a great power and ally of Darkness awaited them, for there was an alliance to be founded in Moria. He had spoken true in this and the Werewolves came, hoping to win praise from the Master of Flesh and Bone for enlisting another ally to their master's cause. Yet when they entered the deep, they were surrounded by walls of fire and engulfed by the Shadow, and there they were slain by the thrusts of fiery swords. Thereafter, the alliance was formed and it did not include them.
"Impale them on the greensward by the Stunted Ones' lake," the Voice of Fire commanded.
And Azog smiled and eagerly agreed, saying "With great pleasure thy will shall be done!"
Then he and a company of Uruk-hai came and carried off the carcasses of their former masters, and in the night, hauled them to the surface and beside the Mirrormere impaled them by moonlight and torchlight.
From the deeps, the Voice of Fire had sent a sign that ne'ermore would Sauron's dominion in Moria be accepted, for like the Dragons of the north, the Spirits of Fire had lost their esteem for him after the end of the First Age and would not serve him save that the God of Darkness returned and commanded it. That was ne'er to be, for Morgoth ne'er returned to Middle Earth.
In the years after, Azog, his heir, and his Uruks viciously defended Moria against all invaders. T'would be long ere any challenged their mastery or the residence of the Voice of Fire. 'Twas a match made in Udûn, for as had been long aforetime, those two kindreds, the Uruk-hai and the Spirits of Fire, served the same cause, and if the Uruks were terrified of the Voice of Fire, 'twas fitting, for they had always been so. Yet 'twas soon understood 'twixt them that the Shadow in the deeps cared little for their activities so long as they served the only commands given them, to defend their mutual home and to serve no emissary of Sauron. The Voice of Fire spent 'naught on terrorizing them to no purpose, unlike Sauron who had earnt the name Gorthaur, the Cruel, and his Nazgûl who reveled in their fear. So the years passed and Moria was at peace.
To Be Continued
