Hurondil
Hurondil's POV
First Age 511
Gondolin was destroyed.
Turgon was dead.
Maeglin was dead.
My city was gone, my king and my captain and friend with her.
And I was running, now, as I had been since – days? Moons?
It was a matter of time until they would catch up with me. Either a dragon, or one of the nameless creatures sent to Gondolin. Or worse, Orcs.
The sun was vanishing, the woods grew dim, and an empty stillness fell, only broken by the sound of my own ragged breathing. I was crashing through the wild now, no longer having the strength to run light and soundless.
Uncountable nights and days had passed. It had always been the same. The night was full of deceptions, sights and sounds that I could not understand.
Please let it not be Orcs.
Any creature would be better than Orcs.
Anything that did not delight in playing with its prey.
Anything that killed swiftly.
They would catch me, surely. I was leaving a trail of crushed vegetation and plain footsteps. And I did not know where I was going. This was foreign land. Far, far from the Echoriath.
Brambles caught at me and I stumbled, falling to my knees and adding thorns to the thousand small and less small injuries I had gathered.
Pain coursed through me, and breathing had become agony after passing through the reek of burning Gondolin. I blinked, trying to clear my vision.
Darkness.
I had never felt afraid in a forest before. Now, after years and years in the shelter of Gondolin and its mountains, the wild was full of ghosts, real and imagined.
No place to go, except to go on. I was so hungry I no longer felt it even as an ache. Up to now, there had been water, enough water. Berries, roots, I could not recall all that I had tried to eat. Tried.
Sounds whispered around me, and I could not make out their meaning or their source.
If I did not go on now, I knew I would never rise again.
Dawn.
They had not caught me. A thousand times I had imagined I heard them, or maybe had heard them truly. Had hidden, waited for whispers to fade, shadows to cease.
Sleep.
Water.
Nothing of these, not yet. At times, I fell down and when I got up, much time had passed. I did not remember dreaming. I did not remember sleeping at all. I simply came back to awareness and ran on.
I stood on a slope. Where had the mountains come from? I could not say what lands these were. No trails, no signs of living creatures. It was silent. It was cold.
The mountains were of dark rock. Gondolin's mountains had been grey, white in the sun. Here they were sullen. Or did they only appear so?
I passed a blood-smeared hand over my eyes, feeling grit and dried sweat.
They would find me. By scent, if not by sight.
At nightfall I was at the foot of the mountains, staring up a steep and forbidding cliff. Scrawny trees clung to its crumbling sides. On the top, forest grew.
Unattainable.
I would have to find a way up.
Height offered protection.
Always.
It grew colder still.
White towers, brilliant in the sunlight –
Dragons, flame, black fetid smoke –
Screams of fighters, screams of the dying -
Another dreadful night, alone with memories and pain.
All were dead.
I stumbled along the cliff's foot until it smoothed. But there were mountains around me now. From where had I come? Which slope must I follow on?
The ground still rose steeply, leaf-covered.
The trees whispered.
An owl called.
It did not matter. Why did I run any longer? For what?
Still I climbed upwards. Under the leaves now, rocks.
Could dry leaves and rocks be slippery?
I kept loosing my footing.
The sword I still clutched became an incredible burden.
I had no sheath for it. This was not my blade. It had belonged to Maeglin.
My captain.
My friend.
Curse it.
Lomion. He had been a friend.
And yet – he had never spoken of it – never uttered a single word about it – neither about the king's sister, nor Morgoth, nor the treachery.
In all our time together, not a single word.
The sword had lain where it had fallen, at the edge of the high wall. Its owner had fallen even lower, cast down by the mortal warrior. Tuor.
I stared at the blade. I had not been there.
And if, what would I have done? Would I have defended my friend against the mortal?
Like those who had lain fallen around him before he faced the Man alone?
What could I have done?
Without betraying the city a second time?
The strange design.
Thorns. Who chose thorns for a blade decoration?
Maeglin had always been strange. But Maeglin had not forged this blade. It was older.
I realized I was cowering on the sloping ground, the sword rammed into the ground, wedged into the loose rocks. I was clinging to it to stay upright.
Night. Where had the day gone? I had to go further.
When next I came back to myself they had found me.
Great shaggy wolves. A whole pack of them.
Please end it quickly.
I could not get up. I tried.
The wolves came closer, sniffing, milling.
I stared at them.
I had never seen wolves – live wolves – so close before. Real wolves. Not the monstrous abominations of Morgoth. I had seen those, enough to last me eternity. Wild wolves. But they, too, were so huge. I saw gleaming fangs in the night. They were ghostly silent.
Or were they shadows?
Why did they not attack?
I reached for the sword, closed my hand on the hilt. Even that movement hurt.
I could not lift the blade, could not rise.
I felt the hot breath on my skin as the leading beast came closer. I could smell its fur.
The wolf beside me seemed brown, then black, shadowy, then vanished.
I felt myself loosing grip on my consciousness again, fading into grey thick mist.
Something, someone, I could not say, was touching me.
It hurt.
Perhaps they tried to see if they could extract some fun of me still?
Voices.
Slowly I separated my mind from the mist and the red haze of pain.
Why voices?
Speaking roughly, hissing.
Orcs.
Why was I alive?
Where were the wolves?
No.
The voices were too soft. For Orcs.
My thoughts were running away before I could sort them out.
For Orcs, the voices were too soft, too low pitched.
I was lying on grass. Smelled blood, sweat, and forest.
Wet leaves, decay, mushrooms.
The sky above me was netted with branches. I felt cold, and yet incredibly hot.
Something was different. I pried my eyes open.
And gasped painfully.
A wolf lay beside me. Huge, shaggy, red.
It turned amber eyes on me at the sound.
For a second I thought they had begun gnawing me while I still lived.
Or my fёa was watching, waiting, before fading into the halls of the dead.
But I was still feeling pain. And my eyes were open.
The wolf looked away.
A rustle, somewhere outside my limited vision.
I tried to turn my head, and went dizzy. Trying to swallow, my throat constricted and a coughing spasm seized me.
Someone grabbed me from behind and pulled me upright. When the coughing eased, water trickled over my mouth. Breathlessly, I tried to drink.
Someone was behind me, holding me up, another crouched before me holding a folded leaf. Water dripped from it.
A man.
I knew because the – creature - was naked. He held the leaf vessel out and offered me water again. Thirst overruled any other perception for a moment.
The wolf was still there.
Beside the man.
It can't be a wolf then.
A dog.
Yes, a dog.
It must be a dog.
When the man took the empty leaf vessel away the beast rose, looming taller than the crouching man beside whom it stood, brushing his arm with its fur.
Its gaze chilled me. Those were not the eyes of a dog, however wild.
A wolf then.
It thrust its huge, rust-coloured head towards me and drew a rough tongue across the open wounds on my chest.
Horrified, I tried to cry out and shove the beast away, but the one holding me caught my arms and held them, pinning me easily.
The man in front of me made a forbidding gesture, laying a hand on the wolf's head. He held out his own arm. Blinking, still feeling the wolf's tongue on my skin, I saw a fresh gaping wound on the man's arm. The man raised it to his face and mimicked licking it, then showed me another healed scar on his hand, patting it, then the wolf.
After a long moment of blankly staring at the stranger I could dimly guess the man was trying to tell me that letting a wolf lick the wounds made them heal. Remembering the wolves looking for carrion on the battlefield I could have said something quite different to that, but I was much too afraid of these people.
The naked man walked away, leaving me still pinned by the one behind me. I tried to crane my head to see the other, then became aware of three more people sitting a good distance away on the floor.
They were all naked. Two of them were women. They all had dark or dark brown hair, and were painted like mortal barbarians. I could not see what they were doing.
The wolf moved over me. Its hot tongue brushed over a particularly deep wound and I gasped with pain. The one holding me eased his tight grip a little and nudged the wolf's head aside. He released me, moving back so that I could look at him.
He had long reddish hair. The same colour as the wolf's fur.
Another male.
Ashamed, I looked away.
The man I had seen first returned with more water and helped me drink again.
The red-haired one said something, pointing at the deep wound where he had kept the wolf back. The first man inspected it without touching, leaning on the wolf that had by now finished his ministrations. He answered in the same strange language.
Vaguely, I thought the pain had indeed lessened.
Or was I imagining it?
I could not understand a single word, could not even make out where one word began and another ended. I had never before heard such a language.
In many sounds, it almost resembled the harsh Orc speech. New fear rose in me. Could they be in league with Orcs? I tried to sit up further, looking down, seeking my sword, remembering the blade.
To my surprise it lay right beside me.
Why did they not take it away?
Maybe they did not know what it was.
None of them bore any weapon.
Or any garment, for that matter.
The first man made a small gesture and I turned back to him. When I looked at him he reached out slowly, a questioning look on his face. His hand was empty, so I did not draw back. He pushed my dirty and blood-caked hair back, then repeated the gesture on himself.
I blinked in shock.
The stranger was an Elf.
I knew I gaped, and wondered if they would think it an insult.
These – people – looked like no, absolutely no, Elves I had ever seen or heard tell of. For all their appearance I had taken them for humans, possibly dark ones, wood-men that ran with wolves. The stranger watched me, amber eyes burning into me. I had the feeling the man wanted to tell me something, but I could get no hold on it.
They could have no evil intentions.
They had left me with my blade.
Or could they be planning something?
My thoughts were churning. The strange Elf said something to his companion again. He looked at me and held out his hand, palm upward, then placed it on my chest. There was an urgent look in his eyes.
Uncertainly, I repeated the gesture, motion by motion. My hands shook.
The strange Elf nodded slowly, seeming satisfied. He pointed towards the small group, making a shoving gesture.
I nodded, not sure if he meant we should go to them.
The two men rose and gently pulled me to my feet. I swayed with dizziness and they supported me as I stumbled between them. Only then I realized that I was a whole head taller than they. The other three shifted, making a space in their circle.
I had my next shock.
Between them they had not only a small heap of wild apples and nuts but also a dead rabbit. It was already skinned, and they used an edged stone and their fingers to remove pieces of meat from it.
To eat them raw.
I swallowed. Dizziness threatened to give way to nausea which was not entirely caused by pain.
I sat – or rather slumped down – nevertheless. I had no choice anyway.
They all stared curiously, even a little apprehensively. The Elf who was obviously their speaker turned to me again. He repeated the motion of placing his hand on his chest, but now he made a fist and he uttered a single word. When I looked at him helplessly he repeated gesture and word.
"K'ashi"
The red-haired man pointed at the speaker and said the same word again.
Suddenly I understood. A name. It had to be the speaker's name. I tried to repeat it, but failed the strange clicking sound at the beginning. The speaker – K'ashi – smiled anyway, nodding. He slowly pointed at the others of the group. Tamó the one beside him, Onak'a the brownhaired woman, Nek'asha the second woman, and Te-nosh'k the third man.
Ashi, the speaker said, turning and pointing at the red wolf. I could not say if that was the name of the beast or a general term for wolf. Or if it meant tame beast or pet or whatever one would call such a beast.
When I said my own name they had as much difficulty with the pronunciation as I had had with theirs. A little laughter ensued.
Then K'ashi offered me the cutting stone.
I swallowed dryly. I shook my head and hoped my declining the offer would not offend them.
"No, thank you" I added, feeling stupid not saying something, knowing also they did not understand me.
K'ashi gave the stone to Tamó, who cut himself a strip of meat, and offered me an apple instead, gesturing to the pile of nuts as well.
The apple I accepted gratefully. The strange Elves exchanged a few soft words while eating. For all that their eating tools were limited to a sharp stone and their fingers they were – and remained – remarkably clean. I wondered absently how they had killed the rabbit. Or had the wolf perhaps hunted it for them?
The meal was finished quickly and in silence, then a brief discussion arose between the Elves. I wished desperately to know what it was about. The red wolf appeared as if he had been summoned. One of the women – Nek'asha – held the remaining bones of the rabbit out to him. The wolf took them into his fangs, gently, almost daintily.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment.
How long had I been unconscious?
Where and when had they found me? Who were they?
Where would they take me? Why had they helped me?
What interest could they have in one fugitive who was near death anyway when they found him?
There was little chance any of them knew anything about my people. We did not even speak a common language.
Suddenly they all rose. K'ashi and Tamó helped me stand, and K'ashi went to fetch my sword. He handed it to me, holding it by the hilt and supporting the blade on his forearm so as not to touch the naked steel. Puzzled, I took it. The sword seemed heavy, making me wonder how I had ever been able to wield it with force.
The others disappeared into the forest.
Literally disappeared. They melted into the sparse undergrowth and became invisible. I was left with K'ashi, standing in the middle of an unknown forest and acutely aware of the smaller Elf's nakedness, my own weakened state and torn and stinking leggings. Looking at K'ashi's calloused feet and thinking of the sharp stones beneath the soft moss of the forest floor I thanked the Valar I still had my boots.
K'ashi offered me a supporting arm and led me a little distance into the forest. From somewhere, the red wolf ghosted up and went at K'ashi's side until we reached a dell, hidden by brushes that grew thick around it.
The short walk was enough to make me feel like collapsing. I had no idea what K'ashi wanted to do. No sign of the others. The Elf – whatever kindred he belonged to – waited for me to settle and recover a bit. He scratched the ears of the wolf as the animal settled beside him. Then he touched both hands to the sides of his head and held them out towards my head, mimicking the same gesture from a little distance. He moved closer, made a questioning sound.
Instinctively, I flinched from the alien touch I expected. K'ashi retreated immediately. He looked at me quizzically, turned away as if not knowing what to do. After a moment he repeated the gesture he had made before.
What could he want? My mind raced. I realized my right hand still clutched the sword. With a conscious movement I released the blade. I would not find out if I kept K'ashi away. So I nodded.
K'ashi took a seat opposite me, crossing his legs comfortably. As before, he laid one hand on my chest. A moment later I knew what he had meant with his enigmatic gesture, as K'ashi's consciousness brushed against my own.
He did nothing more, just waiting somewhere at the edge of my mind, waiting for me to complete the contact.
After the first shock I realized that this was the way – we could not talk one language, but mind-speech could work with images and concepts alone. I was too weary to guard my mind effectively, but I did not care for it. I reached out a tentative mental hand and felt K'ashi taking it. Abruptly, our minds met, and for a moment we both reeled with shock. Obviously neither of us was a trained mind-speaker. I was at two places at once – in my own body and mind, but feeling the strange Elf's fast heartbeat like my own, looking at myself with K'ashi's eyes. And something else's.
Utter strangeness, images I could not comprehend in any way – no reason, nothing I knew – fighting panic I tried to shield without breaking the contact completely. I did not manage, but K'ashi seemed to twist his mind and the link became less intense, the feeling of being watched twice vanished.
I still could feel the other Elf's shock, which told me K'ashi's experience in touching my mind had been just as strange and unpleasant for him. K'ashi did not bother with polite introductions. He used mind-speech bluntly and direct, planting the images right inside my mind. His mind-speech seemed reversed, sounded strange.
'my people no harm mean to you'
Something else struck me. K'ashi was speaking in that strange language of his, even as the words seemed to form themselves into images and concepts in my mind. So that explained the curious order.
'two risings-of-the-sun ago we found you at foot of the mountain'
'Why did you help me? Who are you?' I asked. It was hard to concentrate on forming images rather than words. Had I been told about this way of sending I would have been tempted to call it primitive. But being faced with it I realized it was all but that.
K'ashi shook his head.
'no time yet for this – Orcs are here. this is Orcs land. we must flee, only came here for good hunting. two choices you have – be strong enough, and go with us? then not return to your people – we not will suffer discovery. or go back to your people? then alone you must go, and swift'
K'ashi hesitated, licking his lips 'I not clan leader. we not take with us strangers. but you weak – fight with Orcs alone no good will be. with us protection you will have – only think, you not go back' K'ashi fell silent after the final very determined sounding word and the stream of sending faded.
I forced my reeling mind into a reply, blocking out any doubts that threatened to overwhelm me.
Who was left, if anyone? I did not know.
And who would I be, going back? One of the House of the Mole, as we had sometimes been mocked.
Dirt diggers, tunnelers, mountain maggots.
Maeglin had betrayed a whole city, but I also felt betrayed. Hurt. And I had been loyal to Maeglin. That would not be making for further friends.
But what would I have done in Maeglin's place? What would anyone else have done?
'My city has been destroyed – most of my people and my friends are dead now – I would go with you – but who are you? Where will we go? Where have the others gone? You speak of a clan – what clan?'
K'ashi licked his lips. 'you strange. but you say yes, you go with us – you one of us will become. you say yes, I may tell you what we are – where. you say no – I not reveal us, we secret, clan and homeland'
No going back. I tried to think straight. Hard, when the other's words were so twisted.
Alone, I would be doomed. Did I fear death so much?
A life with these…savages? What could be in there for me?
I wanted to live. Perhaps I could learn.
'I will go with you'
K'ashi looked at me. I had no idea what he was doing, but for a moment the world narrowed to the strange amber-coloured eyes and I could not have jerked my gaze away if I had wanted. With a slight disorientation the feeling vanished, together with the sensation of restraint.
K'ashi spoke again 'we go to - ' I got an image of high brownish mountains, thick forest with lush undergrowth that reached down to the sea, of bare landscapes high above the timberline 'we go swift – danger not far. one of us always with you – the others go furred'
K'ashi took my wrist with his free hand, giving weight to his next softly hissing words 'you not must fear us. we like – them - are' He pointed to the red wolf. "Ashi'kha" he said. 'turning wolf. look'
There were remembered scenes. I knew they were memories and not produced images because they were keyed to a presence not my own yet sent I experienced them as my own. That world tilted, my line of vision blurred and…sank. There were senses I had never had, while others I had always had faded. I was in another body – no – my own had twisted, I was crouching and standing upright was…not possible.
K'ashi caught the flow, and I realized I was still sitting calmly in the tiny dell, the other Elf's palm pressing against my collarbone.
'ashi'kha – turns wolf' K'ashi repeated. The sensation changed and intensified. This time K'ashi was not sending experienced memories, but remembered views, and he was sharing far more with me than before. A wolf pack running. I knew these were my people. Another memory. A reddish wolf loped towards me, slowed, crouched, and – turned into Tamó.
"Ashi'kha" K'ashi stated again. He withdrew the connection skilfully and lowered his hand.
'come, haste now. gather your strength'
He got to his feet with a fluid motion and extended his hands. I grasped them dizzily and K'ashi pulled me up once more. He picked up the sword and gave it to me.
'walk with me now. others gone before, furred'
We walked. The red wolf paced easily before us, doubling back and turning again. After a while two wolves appeared, seeming to dissolve themselves out of a piece of thick undergrowth. I stopped painfully, shaken out of my concentration on each new step, every single one of which sent a jolt of agony through my body. I was already leaning on K'ashi, who had to stop as well when I paused.
'not fear' he pointed at the wolves "Onak'a. Te-nosh'k" 'they scout. listen. they ask, you go with us now. if so, they say, run we must soon. orcs not looking for wolves, but smelling for unfurred' K'ashi said. I did not think I could walk far, let alone run for any distance. I was so weary even wolves talking to K'ashi did not bother me.
I had better not think at all.
Chapter Notes:
The Cirith Thoronath lay southwest in the Echoriath. Hurondil must have escaped to the northeast and finally into the Iron Mountains where he ran into the Ashi'kha. Don't ask me how he got through the attackers coming from the north.
The sword of Maeglin which Hurondil took with him is Anguirel. "Tuor fought with Maeglin on the walls, and cast him far out" (The Silmarillion, "Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin") – I take the freedom to assume that since Maeglin stole Anguirel from Eöl he will have worn the sword afterwards, and it is nowhere said what became of it.
Mind-speech: a handy device borrowed from both Mr. Spock and Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar-novels. The Quendi will have a similar skill, called Osanwë-centa"Communication of Thought" (Morgoth's Ring).
K'ashi: "lead-wolf"
Onak'a: "huntress"
Onakir: "nightchaser"
Te-nosh'k: "wolf-wants-to-fly" Ritual Code
Tamo: "lean wolf" Ritual Code
Nek'asha: "brown wolf"
ashi: "furred"
Ashi'kha: "furred-unfurred"/"turns furred"
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