THE HALADIN

by Archaic Scribe

Chapter XI

HOPE FADES


Please be advised before reading this next installment: There will be a bit of detailed gore ahead in this specific chapter that may create a squeamish feel in the pit of your stomach. Though reluctant to disrupt the flow and impact of the story during that time, I feel it essential to give warning just before that particular information is written, or simply put, when it is coming up in the following paragraph. Therefore, it will be noted in a most obvious way and I will write the following paragraph so that you can get the gist of what happened without the gruesome detail and without re-hashing the whole thing for those who do choose to read through that questionable part.

Shrill, high-pitched cries of warning from the watchtowers echoed throughout the encampment as people began rushing every which way in disorder and chaos. The Orcs climbed the wide, wood ladders made of spruce trees with unexpected speed, as the busy archers failed to get off any shots, too engrossed in hacking down the creatures who tried to crawl over the railings of the wall. The Orcs who were cut down by the piercing steel and wrought iron brandished by the lookouts where instantaneously replaced with two or three more at a time.

Haleth stirred and immediately began to shout orders to secure the watchtowers and then to Jorhild to coordinate the defense of the northern and southern gate, which Jorhild did with a nod as she disappeared into the pandemonium that surrounded them.

Another women, Gudrun, who had been part of their privileged echelon of training forces, was set in charge of the women and children. Many of the elderly women and men who remained with the children acknowledged the realization that they were now too brittle to fight, and so, assisted Gudrun in her labor with their extensive years of wisdom. The only crime that superimposed these elders was that they lacked the physical function demanded to wield a heavy weapon and the matching swiftness, though they commanded something inside their being that could not be taught: A brave and steadfast constitution in the face of such danger and death that was a reality upon all the Haladin at this time.

Haleth mounted the steps of the tower two by two, her long strides setting briefly upon each ladder rung as the Orcs began to overpower the tower guard by their sheer numbers. Taking a quick glance around from side to side, she was able to gauge the situation in most of the towers by the flickering flame of the torches and fading fires lit on the ground in their encampment.

This would surely be a loosing battle, but whether fighting on the towers or upon the ground meant certain death, at least they could give their people a few more precious moments of life to make their peace amongst themselves and with the gods that ruled their existence.

Haleth planted her feet upon the floorboards of the covered tower near the rail and as one of Tunni's remaining guards brutally sliced through an Orc that just about made it over the railing, she grasped the ladder and pushed with all her might. The ladder did not move until Tunni's guard and the women next to him quickly assessed what she meant to do and threw their weight into the chore, sending the ladder crashing to the ground. Though a temporary fix, the other guards saw and began to follow suit.

Near the northern wall, the Orc ladder stood ablaze as it crumbled to the ground. Either Jorhild, or one among her crew had thought of a more permanent way to fell the horrid beasts and when the Orcs along the walls seen what was happening to their fellow soldiers, they all gave up their attempts to remount their ladders.

Instead, they went back to their camp, giving the appearance of being defeated, at least for the time. Haleth patted her fellows on the back, no words necessary in what they had just shared and descended the steps.

As Haleth walked towards the edge of the land towards Gudrun, Jorhild intercepted her.

"I fear I have given the enemy a deadly idea," she said between gasps for air.

Haleth nodded and said mournfully, "That has been my fear since our kin passed to the Great Halls, but we must come up with something to delay them until the daylight, when we have a better, though small, advantage. Besides, with luck, they will not attack in the daylight hours and then we can come up with a resistance against these vile fiends that is even greater."

Jorhild looked at her with despondency, but then grinned with clever malevolence as her thoughts drifted to a way they could use to defeat the foe, "I will seek Beinir."

"Ah, aye. If any can create such a marvel, it is certainly he," Haleth said with a miserable smile in an attempt to mentally thwart of the circumstances upon them.

Haleth continued forward, searching among the fading firelight for Gudrun as she viewed the Haladin who were ceaselessly weeping. What could cause such as this, Haleth thought with puzzlement, the enemy has been held at bay for now and as slim as it may be, there is yet hope in our latest defense.

"Gudrun," Haleth beckoned as the women turned her head with hopelessness and anger, "What news? Why do these people weep?"

Gudrun motioned for Haleth to follow her to the edge of the great cliffs that overlooked the River Gelion, "There are some who have made a sacrifice of death upon rock."

Starvation, and the painful loss of loved ones, had driven many of the Haladin who remained behind in Middle-earth mad, and coupled with the impending threat of a brutal death at Orc hands, some of the women began to fling themselves in to the rushing waters of Gelion, bodies crashing in a bloody mess over jagged rocks.

Haleth now understood why Gudrun had greeted her with such mixed emotion. As Haleth turned from Gudrun she moved along the banks from one end of the cliff to another, encountering the same situation, torn between pity and outrage.

She stalked back towards the south and began to cry into the night air as she walked, repeating her message for all within her range to hear, "Do not trust to madness, courageous Haladin, for our defenses remain and there are no people on this land who are braver! Only the gods need decide who shall depart this land, and when, so do not fade to another plain, for there is much yet to do!"

Then, after reaching the southern entrance that had been blocked off almost a week ago, when Haldad and Haldar had been so maliciously butchered by Orcs, she listened to there report and sought Beinir, who was said to now be at the north gate.

Walking back up the coastline towards the north barrier in search of Beinir, Haleth repeated her message, her voice resounding in an undeniably passionate and clear tone.

After finally arriving at the north gate, she spied Beinir speaking with great animation to Jorhild and as she approached, Beinir stopped talking and started over, for Haleth's benefit, in what he had been saying to Jorhild.

"We must work quickly to dissemble the wagons and the remaining structures, taking from them all the poles and planks of wood. We must carve sharp points on that which have none. Even if these points are crude, they will do better than nothing," Beinir said, pausing for breath before he continued, "I have people digging what pits they can so we can entrench the ground before the towers and the wall. Those who will be in the tower, will be the ones who will be closely involved in placing the spikes, so they know where to run between when they are finally overpowered by the enemy or if the walls are set to flame."

Haleth firmly placed both hands on each side of Beinir's face and gave him a firm kiss on the forehead, "Freya bless your genius, Beinir."

Beinir, deftly overcoming his brief embarrassment at such affection, bowed and disappeared into the waning night. They had several hours before the daylight burst through the dark sky, and with prayer and reverence, Mother Freya may grant them another day of starvation, but at least they would still have life, even if all they knew and held dear was fading from reasonable hope.

Armed with this news, Haleth sent a herald back down the coastline to Gudrun to deliver the newest tidings and inspire faith for their cause and to answer, without fear, the next Orc attack that would try to breech their walls.

Hours stretched into what seemed like eternity as Haleth, Jorhild, Beinir and Gudrun worked ceaselessly to secure all their carefully laid preparations against the enemy. Those who were hunters by trade were set upon the heights of the towers with one malitia man of Tunni's forces while a sparing amount of his regiment was set on the other side of the spike pits to answer the eventual onslaught.

Beinir operated the south tower while Jorhild controlled the defense of the north. Gudrun stood with what forces remained in a human wall between the open ground and the women and children who restlessly moved on the land atop of the cliffs of the Gelion.

"What if there had been a reasonable means of escape," Gudrun commented to Haleth as they stood near the cliffs before Haleth departed for her station.

"Aye," Haleth nodded with agreement, "No wood for boats and no means to safely lower them over these perilous cliffs - even if we had managed to get the materials."

"The Revered Mother bless us all," Haleth mumbled under her breath as she left and Gudrun lowered her head in a brief moment of respect.

Haleth climbed one of the towers, not far from the north gate, and looked out over the scattered fires of the Orc camp below in the distance. She could make out no shadow or shape in their camp and wondered nervously at the unnatural silence that stilled the air before the dawn.

Haleth narrowed her eyes, squinting and searching the meadows and scattered woodland forests, where she found no reflection of armor or even the shiny oil-like flesh of the creatures who eagerly awaited their downfall. Shaking her head and desiring to contemplate the riddle, she looked directly down the steep wall of the stockade and caught a slight movement.

As the clouds passed the bright orb of glowing white moon set against the black veil of night. Haleth's fears were confirmed as her breath caught in her throat. The enemy was crouched so close to their walls that they were near invisible to their struggling, human vision.

No faint glimmer of eyes or flesh could be seen, only the glistening reflection of moonbeams rebounding from circular shields, raised high over helmets of a matching sheen that should have gleamed, but instead lacked luster due to the blows served to them by countless enemies. Haleth made a hawk-like sound of warning to be passed along the towers, but her disruption to the silence caused a preordained chain of peril.

The Orcs instantly lowered their shields and set the base of the wall on fire, along with ladders that lay hidden below their mass of bodies, soaked in flammable liquid and sent up against the wall in order to quicken its downfall.

Smoke began to billow in a black and gray surge of from the fires, sending the stench of poison up in offering to the sky. A few arrows were issued upon them, but soon there was little hope in such a defense and Haleth called them into retreat as the flames penetrated the wall.

As the hungry screams from ravenous Orcs resonated through the air, loud thuds could be heard on the north wall as Jorhild stood in anticipation while the felled log of a lengthy and thick tree trunk came hurling through the wall, alight with the glowing flames of what seemed their own doom.

The spiked pits would buy them more time than Jorhild could afford, and as Haleth expected, Beinir had been cast in the very same situation. Quickly, Haleth sent half of the tower forces to the south and took half with her to the north gates, leaving the human wall of Tunni and Gudrun's forces to protect the victims who stood huddled on the cliffs of Gelion.

Surrounded by certain death, whether by fire, water, starvation or the savage man-eaters, the weak among the Haladin broke and yet again began to hurl themselves into the raging waters and jagged rocks that protruded from Gelion. Miserable with undeserved guilt, there was little for Haleth to do but protect to her death those that remained strong and brave among those who desired yet to live.

Many of the initial infantry in the enemies ranks had burst through the wall, flames sizzling their already blackened flesh with blistering sores, which sent them into a frenzy of pain, as unconsciousness stupors claimed them before their own permanent expiration.

The death cries of the Orcs who had successfully penetrated the long wall with little injury could be heard as they thumped down along the spiked pits dug for them by the Haladin in murderous welcome. Some of the makeshift cavities were dug deep, while others were almost unfinished and could bring no injury upon the massive creatures who only tripped over them. The shallow holes did little harm or injury because the creatures learned quickly to lean back and forth to avoid them, allowing them to promptly regain their charge.

The sun was almost cresting the horizon, but there was no hope in the rising protection of the luminary orb that began to overtake the darkness. The Orcs had lured them into a false sense of security, for they had not yet coordinated an attack during the daytime hours, as her father, Haldad, had done that fateful day. Even in the broad daylight hours, it seemed to Haleth that the Orc could not be conquered. Whether their intent upon waiting to strike so near the sunrise was purposeful or done out of laziness and confidence, Haleth did not fathom, and she had little time to ponder it except for a brief thought of query.

It was simple, in her own reckoning, not enough Orcs had died and they were now too near to charging through the flames at the gates. Haleth mustered her strength and courage. This time, Haleth could allow no time for dread or uncertainty because, she told herself, these were the very same loathsome creatures that had murdered her father and her brother, along with a man she had just begun to make peace with, showing no ounce of mercy or regret. Her mind reached back even further to a mother she had little time to know and her betrothed lover, Bryeth, the man she should have built a family of her own with had the barbarians not come upon them without warning.

No, she thought wickedly with gathering wrath and fury, it was she who would extract a heavy price of retribution from them, and it was she who must lead these people to either victory or an honorable death.

She readied her sword at the oncoming mass of Orcs that finally burst through, their black skin burnished like dully-polished oil in the new morning sunlight. Jorhild stood at her side as they thrust their swords forward and yelled for a charge at the abominable beasts who penetrated their sanctuary.

Quickly, the women were separated in the chaotic fray of battle as Haleth dodged and weaved away from fatal blows from heavy battle-axes and swords, thrusting her own blade through the various necks and between the armpit and trunk of whoever among the enemy she encountered.

The fire was beginning to lose its potency as Haleth lead her armed forces through the wall that had previously been flame and into a concentrated thicket of orc forces. Here the fighting was concentrated and vicious, as the Haladin cut their way through the Orc gladiators, making a failing, diminutive amount of headway.

However, to Haleth's great surprise, the crowd seemed to be thinning and the Orcs appeared to rally against some new confusion that could not yet be perceived by the Haladin. The neigh of horses and a language that sounded like a forceful, but tragic song carried over the wind to Haleth's ears, confusing her emotions and making her feel like weeping with sadness and joy at the same time.

Haleth paused as she caught sight of strange men on horses plowing through the company of Orcs, felling them like a tidal wave washing over grains of sand upon the shoreline and sweeping them out to oblivion. Among them, and at the front of the charge, was a male being so beautiful and full of fury and grace, that he could not be of any of the kindred of men that Haleth had ever recalled to her memory.

The sun created an aura of shining light around his body and that of his fellows, gleaming like a celestial body set purposefully upon the land. Not only had their prayers been answered, but the greatest of all the Gods; The Godhead, The One, Odin, had come to personally save them, perhaps at Frey and Freya's bidding, Haleth thought fleetingly.

The god looked upon her then, catching her eye over the clanging of weapons and cries of death and victory, as Haleth, still staring with distracted awe at the approaching man with eyes as clear and translucent as pools, turned suddenly with alarm.


GORE WARNING: Please skip forward if you have an aversion to a detailed description of bloodshed.

A sharp blade grazed her biceps with a cut that penetrated Haleth's flesh, causing a deep gash in her arm as blood quickly soaked her garment. Turning in surprise and anger, Haleth bared her teeth and let loose a primal growl of infuriated rage that exploded into wrath as she swung her sword in a wide arch with every ounce of might she had, the shock of the wound forgotten. The head of the Orc who had struck her went flying into the air as the tattered strands of flesh hung precariously from her arm, crimson fluid dripping and mingling with the chunks that had not yet escaped the restraints of her garment. Incensed, Haleth turned and thrust her sword through another neck, so enraged all fear departed from her being as she moved her head so close to the animal that his blood spattered in dots across her face as she continued to bare her teeth in a mad frenzy, pulling out her blade and kicking his body to the ground.

Still additional Orcs approached her in a last attempt to slay another of the race of man, but Haleth's senses were remarkably acute at this time and her focus lay only on butchering as many of the enemy as time, and her fading strength, would allow.

This one was well over her height and there was little she could do to reach his neck so she thrust her sword instead through his groin and then sliced the member that spilled from him, maiming his manhood, the protective armor of his legs not covering his most important source of procreation. A primal scream issued from his whole body, escaping with indescribable pain through his mouth as he sank to his knees where she kicked his face with all her might, expediting his backwards fall to the ground. Haleth then stomped once, with finality, one foot upon his face and then rested moved to rest her foot atop his wide chest. Would that she could strike down the whole creation of Orc blood in this one decisive action, she thought with wild enthusiasm.


THE DESCRIPTION OF SQUEAMISH MATERIAL IS DONE...this is the paragraph you will want to continue with then...
Haleth smiled balefully, her foot on the chest of the felled Orc as Odin approached her, the enemy falling around her under this gods swift and lethal forces. His hair shown dark, much like her own people, but there was a questionable emotion that shown in his eyes as he drew near and looked down at her. The sound of clashing blades subsided with only the cries of dying Orcs, and the sound of men moaning in pain, surrounding them in a tunnel of agonizing ruin and death.

No, this was not Odin after all, Haleth thought instantly, as she held his probing gaze without flinching.

Bowing with respect, the lord dismounted his horse. In following his fluid movement, Haleth saw the messenger of Mulco they had sent almost a week ago at his side, favoring one leg with a slight bend, though his eyes smiled with recognition.

Haleth realized this must be the Elf Lord of the North who stood before her as she struggled to grasp the basic Sindarian she had been taught. Unpracticed in forming the words she had never used except for schooling so long ago, she remained silent and bowed in return, moving to clasp his shoulder in the generally accepted for of thanks among the different peoples of Middle-earth.

However, the wound that left a deep fissure in the tissue where her skin was widely split was located on her dominant arm refused to move without pain. It had been idle for an amount of time that it must of deemed too long, for it had stiffened in the realization that any further threat of the enemy posed no further immediate danger.

Haleth, unable to mask the contortion of pain on her face, began to sway where she stood rooted to the ground as the elf-lord moved to her and laid both hands upon her wound. Then, turning he beckoned his man-at-arms to approach, and bring a draught with his kit of medicinal herbs that would quicken her healing.

Knowing most humans did not have any grasp of Quenya, his native and preferred tongue, the elf-lord spoke to her in Sindarian, "I am Caranthir, Lord of Thargelion."

Haleth only stared at him with question, not yet grasping what his words meant as the elven healer carefully eased her onto the disheveled grassland, soil protruding in tuffs of turf under the pivots and stomping of many feet. Caranthir kneeled at her side and waited for her to speak, but her eyes began to glaze over and her eyelids began to flicker up and down.

Caranthir looked at the thin gray clouds that held in the heavens, as the elven healer forced the medicinal draught down the woman's throat before she lost consciousness. Turning back to Haleth, he bestowed a rare smile, begrudging the unpleasant plight of their circumstance and seeing much of complicated emotion and meaning in her eyes as unconsciousness overtook her into a pleasant oblivion of dream.

"Lodin," the elf said in Sindarian, addressing the messenger of Mulco by name, "I must speak with the leader of these people, where is he?"

Lodin could not mask a prideful smirk at Caranthir, as the young man nodded towards Haleth, who lay with the grim look of approaching death across her face.

Caranthir's eyes widened with surprise for a short-lived moment as he turned back to the healer and spoke in Quenya, an intent and dark threat implied in his tone, "This women must live."

Nodding at Caranthir's order, the healer finished packing Haleth's wound with herbs and fastened a quick bandage over it before he motioned for a group of elves to carry her to a nearby meadow, where elves were already setting up a temporary area to administer to the wounded.

Just north of the carnage of the raid and the Haladin's last encampment, more elves worked with quick efficiency to set up a new camp to house the refugees of Haleth's Folk.

While their leader slept in blissful, painless slumber for the time being, the Second House of the Edain were now under the care and direction of Caranthir, a Fëanorian Prince of the Noldor tribe who ruled all of Thargelion, and who once traveled under dire and lawless defiance from the once peaceful land of Valinor.


Author's Note: Well, well - the elf-lord has arrived! Since we will be getting to know him a little bit more in his interactions with Haleth in the upcoming chapter, the next update will probably take a bit longer than the normal one to two weeks as I will be re-reading sections of The Silmarillion and then reading a new book (new to me) that I have not read yet which is part of the HoMe series, The Shaping of Middle-earth. There are many references to Caranthir, as shown in the index of this HoMe book, whether I put them to use or not for this character, I will not know until after I have read and digested the information. Certainly, I would like to refresh in my mind the details of his character from the Silm reading at the very least. However, I must say, I am quite looking forward to seeing what The Shaping of Middle-earth will show for Caranthir as well.

Wish me luck writing Caranthir's character! In my humble opinion, elves are the most challenging to write. My regards and respect to those of you who already write them so very well!

Disclaimer:

Characters and situations of The Silmarillion (Second Edition) by J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Christopher Tolkien are the property of The J.R.R. Tolkien Copyright Trust and Christopher Reuel Tolkien.

Produced solely for the enjoyment of other fans and not for any monetary profit. Please do not sue me, as I have little money.