Jebb: There was some sort of glitch with chapter 3. I couldn't access my own chapter, although apparently some people could. So when I posted 4, I simultaneously took down 3 and reposted it. Hopefully, all 4 chapters previous to this one are now accessible.
FarFlung: So far I'm not getting sick of the characters because their stories seem to be getting more complex over time. And, yes, with the chronology (a thousand years, really), there could be lots more stories! ("Is that a threat or a promise!?" gasped the reader.)
Gwil: I'm glad you didn't mind that I took a time-out to tease Haldir!
Starlit Hope: Wow—coolness—the ultimate accolade!
Joee1: Thank you for the encouragement. This is kind of a case study in B.F. Skinner's 'Operant Conditioning'. I write a chapter, somebody encourages me, I write a chapter, somebody encourages me, I write a chapter…. Hmm, I'm sort of like Pavlov's dog: ring a bell and I slaver.
MoroTheWolfGod: Yay! You weren't eaten by a Warg! Instead, you were devoured by—Pokemon?
Dragonfly32: Yep. You want to keep your eye on Elrohir.
The horseplay and merriment that Anomen and his friends had enjoyed in Lothlórien seemed part of a distant past as the combined force of Elves and Men drew near to southern Mirkwood. Anomen had not caught so much as a glance of Haldir and his brothers since they had rejoined their respective patrols; nor had Thoron seen his cousin Baramagor. Quiet and disciplined, each patrol had concentrated on preparing for the battle to come.
Thranduil's army was already encamped to the north and west of Dol Guldur when the armies of Elrond and Celeborn arrived at the fringes of Mirkwood. The Rohirrim, as planned, had set up camp on the plain to protect the elven army's eastern flank, where Celeborn's warriors would take up their position. Elrond's army would circle around until his patrols were south of Dol Guldur.
Anomen had seen Rangers from time to time during the crossing of the plains but saw none now as Elrond's warriors marched into Mirkwood, having left their horses in the care of the Rohirrim. He asked Taurmeldir whether the Rangers were not after all to fight alongside the Elves.
"Oh, yes, they will be with us. The Rangers are already inside Mirkwood and have been so for several days. They are excellent scouts and have gone on ahead to reconnoiter. They should return shortly to report to Elrond and the others."
Anomen was impressed. The elf-lords placed much confidence in these Men.
As an elfling, Anomen had heard many tales of Dol Guldur, and he could not suppress a shudder at the thought that he and his friends were going up against the evil within that tower. After several days of marching within the forest of Mirkwood, they drew within striking distance of the fortress. Soon the Rangers returned, and after hearing their reports, Elrond and Glorfindel made the final plans for the disposition of their forces. Taurmeldir's patrol, being accustomed to forest maneuvers, was one of those placed on the front line. Beremaethor's patrol was to the rear of Taurmeldir's, much to the relief of Thoron, for now his young cousin would not be in the vanguard. Glorfindel's warriors were to the left of Tauermeldir's, on a rise that gave Glorfindel some hope that he would be able to keep apprised of the movements of Orcs and Elves.
During the march through the forest, no Orcs or wargs had been sighted, but their spoor was plentiful, and Anomen knew from experience that they lurked in southern Mirkwook. Taurmeldir told Anomen and his friends that Elrond and the other leaders were sure that such creatures would be thrown into battle against them at the earliest opportunity.
"Some leaders might protect their own by attempting to outwait a besieging army within the safety of walls such as those, but the power that controls Dol Guldur will not hesitate to surrender the lives of others, be they Men or Orcs. It matters not to him how many of his creatures fall. To him they mean nothing, and if sacrificing scores of his servants leads to the death of even one Elf, he will be content."
Taurmeldir spoke truly. One evening a mist rolled outward from the tower. In his place beside Elrond, Mithrandir knew what it signified.
"Elrond, my vision cannot pierce that mist, but I warrant that within it are score upon score of our foes."
"Mithrandir," Elrond replied dryly, "it needed no wizard to advise me of that."
Mithrandir had to smile. It was to be the last shred of humor that either would enjoy for quite some time.
From his position on the front line, Taurmeldir also saw the mist approaching. He ordered his men to fire into it as soon as it was within bow range.
"But Taurmeldir," said Elladan, "I cannot see my target."
"It matters not. By the time our enemies are close enough to be seen, it will be too late to make use of our bows. Better to shoot blindly and take out some of our foes than to hold fire for want of a clear shot."
The Elves shot a volley into the oncoming mist and were rewarded by the shrieks and howls of Orcs and wargs as some of the missiles did indeed hit home. But the mist never paused in its advance. The Elves shot a second volley, and a third. And then the mist was upon them. They were surrounded by a darkness that was filled with Orcs and wargs and snarls and scimitars. None of the surrounding patrols could have assisted them because they could not have fired into the melee without the risk of hitting their fellow Elves. Moreover, those patrols themselves had come under assault.
Little by little, their enemies began to overwhelm them. Some Elves lay dead, hacked by scimitars or slashed by ravening teeth. Others were wounded but remained on their feet. "Fall back," shouted Taurmeldir at last. The warriors obeyed, pressed on three sides by Orcs and wargs. Taurmeldir waited until the last of the Elves had retreated past his position, then he fell in as the rear guard. Step by step he slowly gave ground, forcing his foes to pay dearly for every inch they took. Anomen looked back through the now-lightening mist as he drew close to the relative safety of Berenmaethor's lines. "Thoron," he cried, "I think Taurmeldir is going to be cut off!" Anomen and Thoron began to run toward their captain, but Taurmeldir, glancing over his shoulder to see if his warriors were nearing safety, saw them coming. "Retreat," he shouted. "I order you to retreat." He parried a thrust from one of his foes. As he moved, a tree blocked the young Elves from any further view of the battle.
Elladan and Elrohir had not seen Taurmeldir's peril and had made it to Berenmaethor's patrol. They were shouting now for their two friends to follow. Anomen and Thoron hesitated a moment and then turned and plunged back toward Berenmaethor's position. Quickly they found gaps in the lines where warriors had fallen, and they turned their attention to fending off the wargs and Orcs that, having swept past Taurmeldir's patrol, were now intent on smashing through this new front.
Glorfindel's warriors had at last dislodged their own opponents, who had surmounted the rise from which the elf-lord had hoped to supervise the battle. After seeing that his Elves had resecured the position, Glorfindel detached some of his warriors to go to Berenmaethor's aid. With the addition of these forces, the Elves began to beat back their enemies. The Orcs fought heedlessly, which made them fearsome but in the end vulnerable to more reasoned opponents. Little by little, the Elves gained the advantage. Shortly before dawn, the last of the Orcs had either fallen or fled.
Berenmaethor began to check his lines. He stopped first by Baramagor, who was pale and trembling.
"Are you injured, Baramagor?"
"No, Berenmaethor, but my stomach, ah, my stomach—"
Beremaethor, a very experienced warrior, gently took Baramagor by the shoulders and turned him about.
"See that tree over there? I suggest you go round to the other side of it."
Baramagor nodded gratefully and staggered around to the far side of the tree so that he would not embarrass himself. After a few minutes he reappeared looking a little less queasy, albeit no less pale.
Beremaethor went on to check on other Elves, coming at last to Anomen.
"You are from Taurmeldir's patrol."
"Yes. Our position was overrun, and Taurmeldir ordered us to retreat to your lines."
"Where is he?"
"I do not know. He took the rear guard. When I last saw him, he had not yet reached your lines."
"The area is clear of enemies. Go and look for him now. I fear he may have been wounded."
Anomen and his friends headed back toward where he and Thoron had last seen their captain. When they did not find him immediately, they spread out, although keeping within sight of one another, and began to methodically comb the forest.
It was Anomen who found him. He removed his cloak and tenderly placed it over his captain before he called to the others. They hastened over and bowed their heads in grief when they saw that Anomen had covered Taurmeldir's face. Only one hand lay outside the cloak. In it, he still clutched his sword, blackened with the blood of Orcs and Wargs. The four stood silently for awhile. At last Elladan roused them.
"We need to fashion a bier to carry him to Berenmaethor."
The others nodded solemnly. They cut green saplings that would not crack under the weight of the body. After they had lashed the saplings together, Elladan, Elrohir, and Thoron covered it with their cloaks. Then, raising Taurmeldir as gently as if he were a sleeper they did not want to awaken, they laid him upon the bier. Beside him they laid his sword. Each of the four young warriors grasped the end of a pole, and they began to pace toward Berenmaethor's position. Their grief, not the weight of the body, caused them to walk slowly.
All warriors not injured arose to their feet as they saw the young Elves approaching with their burden. Berenmaethor stepped forward, his face solemn.
"We have had the victory this day, but the cost would be too high even if Taurmeldir had been the only one to fall."
He stood beside the bier for a time, his head bowed, as he remembered his friend. At last he raised his head and lifted the sword from the bier. Carefully he wiped it clean of all traces of the blood that had befouled it.
"This sword I will safeguard. Taurmeldir left a son. His weapon shall be preserved against the day when that son shall wield it in his turn."
Taurmeldir had a son? Anomen had not known this. He squeezed his eyes shut as he sorrowed for another son who would grow up without a father.
"Anomen." It was Berenmaethor speaking. "You and the others, gather dry wood for a funeral pyre. We will let neither Taurmeldir nor the others be despoiled by swarming or crawling or digging creatures."
Anomen nodded wordlessly, and he and his friends found some relief in throwing themselves whole-heartedly into performing this last office for Taurmeldir and the other fallen warriors. Other uninjured Elves hauled the fallen Orcs and wargs into one giant heap so that the entire forest would not be defiled by their carcasses. They did not, however, trouble themselves to gather wood for a pyre for their enemies.
"Let them be gnawed upon by creatures only a little less foul than themselves," said Berenmaethor grimly. Nor would the Elves spare the effort to dig a pit. The lowliest denizens of the forest would have to dispose of the carrion heap.
The only mercy the Elves showed that day was to dispatch injured Orcs by cleanly cutting their throats. They did not take Orcs prisoner, for the creatures could be neither reformed nor redeemed. The Orcs themselves took prisoners only when they meant to torture them, with no thought of ever exchanging them for those of their own kind. To an Orc, no life had value, not even that of a kinsman. Indeed, the very idea of kin was foreign to these creatures. Although they walked on two feet like Men, they had more in common with ravening beasts, for they followed commands only out of fear or hunger, never out of any higher motivation.
After the injured and slain Elves had been removed and the battlefield cleansed of Orcs and wargs, Glorfindel came by to tell them that he had decided not to appoint a new captain for the remnants of Taurmeldir's patrol. Rather the uninjured or lightly injured survivors would join Berenmaethor's scouts. As the day drew to a close, then, Anomen and the others settled themselves amongst their new comrades. Listlessly, they ate the rations that were doled out to them. As they finished eating, Anomen mechanically arose and began to gather dishes. Baramagor stopped him. "I am the youngest in this patrol, Anomen. I am the one responsible for washing the dishes each night."
Anomen could not help himself. He wept. "I would wash dishes all my immortal life," he thought to himself, "if only I could once again be the youngest in a patrol led by Taurmeldir."
Anomen's friends understood his grief but could think of nothing to say. Instead, when Anomen at last lay down to rest, Thoron and Elladan and Elrohir and Baramagor all drew their sleeping rolls close together around him. Huddled thus in a clump, the young Elves at last succumbed to an exhaustion that the turmoil in their minds could no longer stave off. Berenmaethor arranged the watch so that they were not called on that night.
The next morning, Berenmaethor detailed Anomen to serve as a runner for the day. One of his errands took him to Glorfindel's tent. After he had delivered a message, Glorfindel gestured for him to sit on a camp chair.
"You are no doubt feeling great sorrow over the death of your captain."
Anomen nodded.
"Taurmeldir had the greatest of respect for you, Anomen."
"And I failed him!" Anomen burst out in grief and shame.
"Why do you say so?"
"Glorfindel, Thoron and I saw that Taurmeldir was in trouble. We started to go toward his aid, but Taurmeldir ordered us to continue our retreat. Glorfindel, if we had gone back to help Taurmeldir, he wouldn't have died."
Glorfindel replied calmly, "Had you and Thoron returned to his side, Taurmeldir would have died nonetheless. Worse, his death would have been all the more bitter for his friends because you would have rendered his sacrifice meaningless. Taurmeldir was not one to throw away his life without cause. He knew that the situation was such that only through death could he guarantee the safety of his warriors. But to that end, he saw that only his death was necessary. And so he forbade you from aiding him because he did not want you to die needlessly. You must respect his judgment in this matter, as he always respected yours."
"I thank you for your words, Glorfindel, but they do not lift my grief."
"They were not intended to lift your grief, Anomen. For why should you not grieve? No, it is the burden of shame that you should not feel compelled to carry. Your captain gave you an order. You obeyed it, and by doing so you secured for Taurmeldir one final victory over his foes."
"Thank you for your words, Glorfindel. I think—I think I can bear the grief now, but the shame would have been too heavy for me."
"Good. May you bear as light a load as may be, for it is all too likely that in the days to come you will have to assume additional burdens."
"And I pray," said Glorfindel to himself as Anomen took his leave, "that the weight does not become too much for him."