Oromë had finally reached the traces of a large mass heading North.
They were much to big to be Quendi, but here and there Oromë spotted a few
elven tracks. He moved swiftly North in the direction of the tracks.
Until he came upon a strange sight. The land was icey cold and the ground
was cracked and leaking. Water gushed out from underneath and many frozen
Quendi bodies littered the ground before him. Their were also great heaps
of ash and smoke that lifted from the air. Something good had crossed this
river and something foul was chasing it. What could it all be. 'Panawë,'
Oromë said silently. He then sped North. Not long in his flight did he
catch up to a large glow of some sort. It was reddish and winking, and
smoke drifted about it in the air. Some bizarre devilry was afoot. A
sorcery that not even Oromë could have predicted. The Valar knew his duty
was to help the Quendi but he could not do it alone. There was no time,
however, to return to Taniquetil and rally assistence. And so Oromë
pressed on.
Morkánodel was moving now at a much greater pace. The Quendi were now in sight, but he was not within theirs to fully understand his numbers. He marched the Balrogs with high-pitched squeals and shrieks. The Balrog army had lost many of its numbers at the icey river. Crossing it for the Balrogs was no easy task. They hated the water because it slowed and weakened them. But the waters of Khelënen were mighty and much stronger than normal waters. It killed many of the Balrogs with its simple touch. It angered Morkánodel and he pressed on with a grueling pace. He was intent on catching and killing the Quendi. It was his order and he was made only for that purpose.
Panawë grew easy and relieved when the last of his clan entered Taur- Khelek. But when they had arrived something unexpected happened. The Valar known as Oromë and appeared before them and spoke as if a welcomed friend. 'No! We do not wish to heed you, Mor. Let us be for we are weary.' Panawë said this of course.
'Mor?' said Oromë. 'Panawë I come under grave circumstances. Your tribe has been followed and you are not safe here.' 'You do not think thou not knowst this?' said Panawë. 'The Mors will not find us here!' 'Thou are wrong, Panawë,' said Oromë. 'For even now the army is preparing to destroy thee. I can offer help, I can save thy people.'
'Why should thou trust thee?' asked Panawë. 'Thou not knowst all,' said Oromë. 'I know why you did not pass. Because of Melkor. He whispered to you as he as done me. He told you lies and decieved you. And now he marches his creations to kill you! You must understand that you have been decieved. If you do not trust me their is nothing I can do. But if thou do not, thou and thy people shant live for long. I can prepare thee for thy task. I can save thee.'
Panawë did not trust him but listened to his teachings. Panawë and the Quendi tribe, and Oromë had constructed a ring of sharp wooden poles. Standing together with thin sticks of carved edges the Quendi remnants sat and wait. Panawë kept close watch of Oromë, still not trusting him. For I've told you that Panawë's main quality was his mistrust, his paranoia. He was a very cautious being.
At the next nightfall a full moon dominated the sky and Morkánodel, along with his Balrogs had reached Taur-Khelek. And battle finally loomed in the grasp of Melkor.
Morkánodel was moving now at a much greater pace. The Quendi were now in sight, but he was not within theirs to fully understand his numbers. He marched the Balrogs with high-pitched squeals and shrieks. The Balrog army had lost many of its numbers at the icey river. Crossing it for the Balrogs was no easy task. They hated the water because it slowed and weakened them. But the waters of Khelënen were mighty and much stronger than normal waters. It killed many of the Balrogs with its simple touch. It angered Morkánodel and he pressed on with a grueling pace. He was intent on catching and killing the Quendi. It was his order and he was made only for that purpose.
Panawë grew easy and relieved when the last of his clan entered Taur- Khelek. But when they had arrived something unexpected happened. The Valar known as Oromë and appeared before them and spoke as if a welcomed friend. 'No! We do not wish to heed you, Mor. Let us be for we are weary.' Panawë said this of course.
'Mor?' said Oromë. 'Panawë I come under grave circumstances. Your tribe has been followed and you are not safe here.' 'You do not think thou not knowst this?' said Panawë. 'The Mors will not find us here!' 'Thou are wrong, Panawë,' said Oromë. 'For even now the army is preparing to destroy thee. I can offer help, I can save thy people.'
'Why should thou trust thee?' asked Panawë. 'Thou not knowst all,' said Oromë. 'I know why you did not pass. Because of Melkor. He whispered to you as he as done me. He told you lies and decieved you. And now he marches his creations to kill you! You must understand that you have been decieved. If you do not trust me their is nothing I can do. But if thou do not, thou and thy people shant live for long. I can prepare thee for thy task. I can save thee.'
Panawë did not trust him but listened to his teachings. Panawë and the Quendi tribe, and Oromë had constructed a ring of sharp wooden poles. Standing together with thin sticks of carved edges the Quendi remnants sat and wait. Panawë kept close watch of Oromë, still not trusting him. For I've told you that Panawë's main quality was his mistrust, his paranoia. He was a very cautious being.
At the next nightfall a full moon dominated the sky and Morkánodel, along with his Balrogs had reached Taur-Khelek. And battle finally loomed in the grasp of Melkor.