In An Age Before - Part 6
Chapter Four
Eriador - The Second Age of the Sun
The form of the world was changed. Helluin stood on the eastern slopes of the Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains, (also called the Ered Lindon by the Noldor), the Mountains Beyond the Land of the Singing. But Ossiriand, where the music of the Green Elves had once laced the forests with song, lay mostly silent, it's seven rivers lost in the passing of the First Age of the Sun. Now but a narrow remnant of that land clung to the western faces of the Ered Luin and the Elves called it Harlindon, the Southern Land of Song. Likewise, the unsunken eastern precinct of Thargelion now bore the name Forlindon, the Northern Land of Song. 'Twas just wishful thinking and longing for the past, something Helluin had found the Eldar often indulged in. Yet they were greatly attached to these remaining tracts of Beleriand in which they had dwelt and fought for so long.
The settlements in the two Lindons were home to Gil-galad and Elrond, Celeborn and Galadriel, their daughter Celebrían, Galdor, and Círdan of the Falas. With the remaining Eldar of Beleriand they labored to raise a new kingdom. Indeed, most tales remember their land simply as Lindon, whilst most of their few songs in those days were laments and requiems for the dead. Yet the two Lindons had each their identity. In Harlond dwelt Círdan the Shipwright, though his havens of Mithlond lay at the gulf's head. With him upon the southern bank of the Gulf of Lhûn were Galdor and many Sindar from the Falas, who had come thither after the whelming of the Isle of Balar. Also there amongst his kindred dwelt Celeborn, a prince of the Sindarin realm of Doriath, and for love of him his wife, Galadriel, daughter of Finarfin of the Noldor. In Forlond ruled Ereinion Gil-galad, son of Fingon, son of Fingolfin, the High King of the remaining Noldor, and in his company stayed Elrond, and others of the Host of Finwë who had cloven to the Mortal Shores. Upon the water of the gulf many boats went to and fro, knitting together the two settlements into a single greater realm in memory of what was fore'er lost.
Beleriand was indeed gone, sunk 'neath the waves in the breaking of the world. The War of Wrath had ended, but the changes remained. Very nearly every place where Helluin and the Noldor had lived and fought had been destroyed utterly in the o'erthrow of Morgoth and the Fall of Angband. She had scarcely completed the journey to Thargelion with the sons of Fëanor when the entire south country had rung with the trumpets of the Valar. The night sky had glowed as the light of their campfires painted the land, and reflections from the sheen of their armor had lit the undersides of the clouds. They were still landing troops as their vanguard marched north up Sirion, so numerous that the whole of Beleriand had echoed with the marching of their boots.
When she'd followed the sons of Fëanor back to Middle Earth, almost all of the Noldor had started on that journey. It had still been a vast host even after Finarfin and his people turned back, though perhaps two-thirds of those remaining, herself included, had followed Fingolfin rather than Fëanor. Now the coming of the Valar made that host seem like a company. Along with the Powers of Arda had come their Maiar, the Vanyar, (those Eldar of the Host of Ingwë), and the Noldor of Finarfin. They had been joined in Middle Earth by the Edain, the survivors of the three houses of mortal Men known as the Elf-Friends, and by Thorondor with his cadres of Eagles.
Those remaining Eledhrim¹ of Beleriand, Noldor and Sindar alike, had looked on from Thargelion and Ossiriand in amazement. For all the battles they had waged during centuries of war, the Army of the West put their glory to shame. Being still 'neath the Curse and the Doom of Mandos, none of the Exiles had even dared approach whilst the War of Wrath raged. For weeks they had stared from the western eaves of the Ered Luin as lightning rent the sky and blows rumbled like thunder through the earth. The very air sizzled with the clash of the powers, for whilst many fought with weapons forged of steel, the principals fought with the pure force of the Imperishable Flame. By then, the Laiquendi had fled beyond the Blue Mountains in terror. ¹(Eledhrim, Elven folk, eledh (elf, ar.) + -rim(coll. pl. suff) Sindarin, archaic)
Helluin had climbed the heights of Mt. Rerir, and the violence she'd seen from that high place still haunted her waking dreams. It had not been war as she knew it. In her experience, lightning did not arc from the hands of warriors to their targets, and mountains did not explode at a word. Balls of fire did not shriek down from the heavens in rapid pulses, nor did chasms open 'cross leagues of plains in response to a song of power. Spectral forms the size of mountains had walked the nights, and with a gesture turned the bodies of Yrch, Tor¹, and Urulóki inside out, so that they died writhing in a wet and muffled agony. It had been little wonder that Morgoth had hidden in his own dungeons rather than come forth to fight. The living walls of flame that had swallowed the Balrogs whole would alone have sent Helluin running. 'Twas 'naught but holy genocide. Yet the crowning insanity that she'd witnessed had come after the battle ended. ¹(Tor, Trolls, pl. Sindarin)
After Morgoth was bound and dragged, whimpering and gibbering for mercy from his fortress as a prisoner of the Valar, the Silmarils were taken and guarded by Eönwë. Then the Herald of Manwë proclaimed that the Eldar of Beleriand should come forth and return to Aman forthwith, for they were pardoned and the Valar would summon them home to Tol Eressëa. Many of the Noldor and Sindar went thither, glad to sail at last to the Blessed Realm after enduring the heartbreak of Mortal Lands. 'Twas then that Helluin had o'erheard Maedhros and Maglor plotting to steal into the camp 'neath the pretense of heeding the summons, and filch the gems, for they were driven still by their father's oath. 'Twas madness and she'd attempted to dissuade them.
"They shalt catch ye and turn ye inside out with a gesture of three fingers," she'd told them, "saw thou not what befell the Tor?"
"We have been doomed to fail from the day we spoke our oath," Maedhros had responded in resignation, "and try or try not we cannot hide from our doom."
"So thou intend to attempt this deed even knowing full well that thou cannot succeed?"
"We have been doing nothing less for the last 600 years, even if at the start we knew it not," Maglor had said, shaking his head. "Failure and death art our appointed lot. For what 'tis worth, I should be loath to add craven." Yet he would be the only brother to survive, if but to voice his lamentations in song.
They had left that evening, taking the Peredhil with them to appear the more convincing, and Helluin had shaken her head and begun her journey east. All her arguments were for 'naught and there was nothing further she could do. At least the sons of Eärendil and Elwing would be safe in the Valar's camp, and soon, she expected, sailing for the Blessed Isle. In this appraisal, she was not even half-correct.
After three days she had crossed the Ered Luin to the east of Mt. Rerir and descended into the land which lay 'twixt the upper branches of the River Lhûn. 80 leagues downstream that river fed into the Gulf of Lhûn, a new feature of the land derived from the sinking of that segment of Ossiriand that had lain 'twixt the rivers Ascar and Thalos. There a gap of 18 leagues had been gouged through the mountains; separating Forlindon from Harlindon with seawater that flowed for nearly 70 leagues inland. From the heights of the Ered Luin, her Elven sight had revealed the sun sparkle on distant water where none had been ere the War of Wrath. Her eyes reported the same to the west for as far as she could see. Yes, Beleriand was truly gone, sunk 'neath the waves, and now Belegaer, the Sundering Sea, lay o'er it. Finally she had turned and begun her descent of the eastern walls of the Ered Luin.
Helluin went forward, eyes open wide with curiosity, into these lands that she had ne'er seen. On their journey west from Cuiviénen long ago, the host of the Noldor had passed o'er the Ered Luin to the south of where she now stood, 'nigh on were Nogrod was delved, and near where she deemed the Gulf of Lhûn now lay. Indeed the breaking of the Ered Luin had also shattered the halls of Gabilgathol and Tumunzahar, Belegost and Nogrod, the mansions of the Dwarves, and though some few remained in Gabilgathol, many refugees now traveled east to Durin's Halls in Khazad-dûm. But this northern land was unknown to Helluin, and after six centuries of battle in Beleriand, she was finally free of the curse of Fëanor that had shackled the Noldor, and at last she could explore. She hadn't felt such pure, simple joy in walking the world since ere coming to Aman.
Now Eriador was a land of green, of chalk downs and gentle hills, of growing things and lazy rivers slow in their courses; a land for the most part like a rippled plain, lying cradled 'twixt the Blue Mountains and the Hithaeglir, the Towers of Mist. She remembered this land as forest, but the trees had withdrawn during the last two Ages of the world, leaving only patches of deeper woods. She recalled crossing the towering Misty Mountains whose intimidating peaks were e'er snow-capped, sharp and rising to pierce the clouds. Helluin was in no hurry to go thither again, and so she roamed for many years in Eriador.
During that time she even came to Mithlond on the Gulf of Lhûn, meeting again Círdan the Shipwright, Celeborn of Doriath, Galadriel, the daughter of Finarfin, whom she hadn't seen in many hundreds of years, and most surprisingly, Elrond. Helluin was little less than amazed that they had all stayed in Middle Earth. At this time she learned that Galadriel and Celeborn had finally married after a courtship of centuries. They now had a daughter, Celebrían, who was in Forlond at the king's court. Helluin wished them well. Despite a strange rivalry in Aman, she'd always appreciated Galadriel's strength of will, knowing that the princess' inspiration had been beneficial in crossing the Helcaraxë. During her visit, she'd also learned somewhat of the choices of the Peredhil following the War of Wrath.
"So Elrond, why hast thou remained in Middle Earth? And whither went Elros?" She had asked. He had seemed daunted, or perhaps o'erwhelmed. At first she suspected that some ill had come upon them, perhaps because they'd accompanied Maedhros and Maglor to the Valar's camp after the war. But the truth was even more appalling.
"After Adar¹ and Naneth¹ sailed to Aman we were given a choice in deciding our fates. Elros clove to our father's people," Elrond told Helluin, "and I to the people of our mother. Now he hath gone to Númenórë, the land that the Valar prepared for the Edain…far 'cross the water…gone…" ¹(Adar, Father, and Naneth, Mother, in this case, Eärendil and Elwing. Sindarin)
And far beyond the water will his spirit go one day, Helluin realized, beyond the borders of the world whither go the spirits of Men who have died. Gone fore'er! The parting of the Half-Elven was a parting of brothers that would last 'til the End of Arda. Now they were truly Half-Elven; one of the twain Eldalië and the other mortal. No wonder Elrond seemed dazed. She had put a hand on his shoulder and given it a squeeze, but there had been little she could say to comfort him. He had looked at her for a moment and then stuttered in a cracking voice, "I…I even gave him leave to take grandfather's axe…"
Helluin realized that Elrond had kept nothing of his family or his life in Beleriand, but his memories. Just like the Eldar, she thought, to keep 'naught of the past but memories, and those as much a torment as a comfort. Dramborleg had gone with Aranruth to become heirlooms of Númenor.
Watching her brother Verinno dying slowly for weeks upon the ice of the Helcaraxë had been unbearable for Helluin. It had brought forth a darkness in her that most of the Eldar didn't understand. Now Elrond would spend centuries imagining his brother dying far slower still. Such was the fate of Ilúvatar's Younger Children, and Helluin couldn't imagine why anyone would choose it willingly. The surcease of suffering that death brought might appeal to some of the Eldar, at least philosophically, for no few Elves had died of broken hearts, but Helluin had sublimated her suffering into a terrifying battle rage instead of allowing it to unceasingly gnaw at her. Only rarely was the Life of the Eldar not a thing she reveled in…and at those times she sank into memories and sang maudlin songs. Being a loner had made bearing both her sorrows and her bloodlust easier.
Now in the early years following the War of Wrath, the land of Eriador was for the most part at peace. Here, though Eastern Men sometimes ranged in small raiding bands, they were disorganized and few, just a tithe of those who had come to aid Morgoth in the wars of Beleriand. Most of their kin had fled beyond the Misty Mountains, through the gap 'twixt the Hithaeglir and the Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains. The predominant tribes of Men in Eriador were distant cousins of the Elf Friends, mostly Men who had ne'er entered Beleriand, but came of the same beginnings. They were peaceful but few and possessed little knowledge, and they suffered much in their ignorance. Yet o'er the years, Helluin found them courageous and stalwart at need, and amongst them she marked many with golden hair and light eyes whose color was sometimes green, or a pale imitation of her own blue. Surely these bore some kinship to the House of Hador, she thought, and so could be both honorable and fierce. In addition there were some, fewer still in numbers, who were dark of hair and eye, tall and strong, and these she found derived from the people of Bëor who had followed Beleg back o'er the Ered Luin out of Beleriand. Of Yrch, Tor, and creatures more fell there was scarcely a rumor and no sightings could be confirmed. With the fall of Angband, Morgoth's minions were either destroyed, or had hidden in terror, and they troubled none.
Through Eriador in those days many Dwarves made their way east as has been said, in a migration from ruined Nogrod and Belegost, back to the ancient mansions of Khazad-dûm, Hadhodrond, the Dwarrowdelf, that was afterwards called Moria, the Black Chasm. Also traveling those lands were wandering companies of Elves of the kindreds of the Laiquendi, or of the Sindar of Beleriand, and even a few others of the Noldor, who like herself had remained in Middle Earth.
Perhaps the singular group not represented in Eriador during the Second Age of the Sun were Men of the three Houses of the Edain. Indeed all of those still living had answered the summons of the Valar and had removed themselves from the Hither Lands to a new home, made for them to reward their valor through many generations as enemies of Morgoth. This land was known by many names; in Quenya, Andor, the Land of Gift, Elenna, (or Starwards), commemorating the star, Gil-Estel, Eärendil's Vingilot, which they followed to their new island home. In their own tongue, Adûnaic, the Edain called this land Anadûnê, Westernesse, which was translated in Quenya as Númenórë. It lay midway 'twixt the western shores of Middle Earth and the Elvenhome of Tol Eressëa, that island which stands 'nigh Valinor itself. T'would be six centuries ere a descendant of the Edain again set foot in the Hither Lands.
For o'er a hundred and thirty years of the sun Helluin traveled in Eriador. During that time she became known again to the Eldar of Lindon and anew to the Men of Eriador and the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm. Being of the Noldor, yet not of the House of Fëanor, she enjoyed some welcome amongst the Naugrim, for though she had fought the enemy she had ne'er held any desire for the Silmarils. Indeed, though she was cunning of hand with metals, no lust for gold or silver ruled her heart. Eventually the Dwarves, perceiving that Helluin's thirst was for knowledge, not treasure, honored her rather than shunning or mistrusting her.
There were those amongst the Naugrim, survivors of Nogrod for the most part, who still begrudged the slaughter of their lord and kin at Sarn Athrad in Ossiriand as they fled Doriath with the Nauglamir, that necklace in which they had set the Silmaril. By her remarks of distaste for the House of Fëanor's obsession over that jewel, Helluin declared her opposition to the oath that had brought bloodshed 'twixt the Dwarves and the Elves of Beleriand. It came to pass that Helluin was the first of the Eldar to e'er walk the halls of Hadhodrond, delved deep in the Hithaeglir 'neath Caradhras, Celebdil, and Fanuidhol. There she traded wisdom and counsels with the lords and craftsmen of the House of Durin, for in Aman she had learnt much from the Maiar of Aulë, their creator, whom the Dwarves revered. As had many things in her life, it began by chance.
One hundred and thirty one years had passed since Helluin had come to Eriador, and she had marked that of late the bands of evil Men had multiplied, as Men art wont to do, and travel had become more risky. These interlopers seemed to her akin to the swarthy Men from the east and south, either leftovers of those who had aided Morgoth, or newly arrived and perhaps venturing west in hopes of gain through mischief. More than once in the preceding years she had come upon the sacking of a farmstead or the robbery of travelers on the roads. In those cases she had quickly applied her sword, recalling the House of Ulfast, and the fear of her had grown amongst the brigands.
On the day in question, Helluin was happily walking o'er a wooded hill 'nigh the confluence of the Rivers Bruinen and Mitheithel. She was singing a song of Valinor and carving a section of reed into a temporary flute for her amusement. The day was fine, if a bit hot, for summer was high and the sun was bright o'erhead just ere noon. She'd only brought the flute to her lips to play a note and test the position of another finger hole, when from 'cross the ford of the Mitheithel she heard coarse voices raised in threat and the drawing of weapons. For a moment she listened, quickly realizing that the voices were speaking the vulgar speech then known as the Common Tongue, a more primitive predecessor of the Westron of the Third Age. Now this wasn't anything so odd, yet already she had dropped her bag and flute and was hastening to the ford. 'Twas as she came to the water that she heard the reply, and a moment later she was flying o'er the stones of the ford, her light-footed stride causing nary a ripple in her passing.
The voice had been that of a Dwarf, and from the little she knew of the speech of the Naugrim, the Dwarf had simply claimed that he couldn't understand a word the Men were saying. 'Twas a common enough ploy, to feign ignorance when endangered in hopes of being left alone. No doubt the Men's weapons had been drawn to convince him to part with whatever wealth he carried, using the universal language of threat. Her own sword slipped from its sheath as she made the further shore, and with a few strides she was upon the bank and in full view of the confrontation.
Her ears had reported the situation aright. There stood six armed Men, road brigands by their looks, brandishing studded clubs and swords of poor workmanship, blades scavenged from fallen Yrch if her eyes spoke true. Encircled by them were a pair of Dwarves, bearded, hooded, cloaked, and bearing short axes of a type used for chopping firewood rather than hewing necks. A number of travelers' bags lay at their feet and the circle of men was tightening. The attention of all was fully occupied and she was ignored, save for quick looks and dismissal by several of the Men. She was alone, and though she bore a longsword, they deemed her only a minimal threat to their numbers. Amazingly she was able to walk right up to them.
"Thinking to rob yon travelers art thee?" She asked in Sindarin, her eyes passing over the circle of Men. Though she was a hand's width taller than the tallest of them, they were broad of body and certainly strong of arm. Finally they turned their attention to her.
"Looks like what you see it does," the largest of them declared in the mangled Common Speech. She could understand the Dwarves being unable to comprehend them; she could barely understand them herself. "Be your way going," he ordered with a sneer.
"Stand fast and I shalt split whatever they have with thee," she whispered to the nearer Dwarf in broken Khuzdul, winking and giving him a feral grin. The Naugrim's eyes bulged to hear her speak their tongue at all, even if poorly. The Men had no idea what she'd said.
"Continue Morgoth's work you do in smallish ways, your master though long gone he is," she told the robbers in the Common Tongue, " that Enemy I fought; your fathers gladly to join in death will I send you." She gave them a smile and bared her teeth.
The Men turned from their victims at her threat and glared at her. The nearest raised his sword. Pitiful weapon she thought. With a swift stroke, Anguirel clove the Man's blade from its hilt. He looked at what remained in his hand and howled in anger. The Men to either side of him moved to attack.
Now the battle-prowess of the Eldar lay not in great strength alone, but in agility, speed, and reaction time. These blessings, aided by the acuity of senses and superior weaponry made Elvish warriors highly formidable. Helluin saw every muscle clench and strain, the shifting of focus in their eyes, and the changes in balance as their feet moved. Because of all that, 'twas as if she heard the speech of their minds. Fools, she thought, I know ere thou command thine own limbs in what manner thy body shalt move. With a stroke she sliced off one Man's club just above his hand, and the other Man's belt so that his pants fell down 'round his knees. Beside her a Dwarf chuckled in a deep-throated gurgle. The return stroke brought Anguirel's point up under the chin of the next nearest robber, he being the large Man who'd spoken to her.
"Be your way going," she ordered with a sneer, adding, "son of an Orch you."
The Man's eyes bugged out in his head at the insult, but he backed up a pace as his fellow robbers edged away from her. They had ne'er met any of the Calaquendi. In truth they'd had very little to do with any of the Eldar. The blue fire in her eyes was supernatural, wholly unnerving. More unnerving still was the feeling in each of their hearts that her sword lusted for their blood as it were a living thing possessed. Helluin had advanced, keeping the sword's point tight against the Man's throat. To speed them on their way she whipped the blade from side to side, slicing off the better part of his beard. As it gently dropped to the ground the brigands fled. Helluin laughed. The wars in Beleriand would have gone much quicker if more like them had fought for Morgoth. She watched 'til they were safely gone beyond her sight and hearing.
Next she looked at the Dwarves. They were staring at her, clearly disturbed and clearly thankful. They both bowed to her as if their bodies were commanded by a single mind.
"Our thanks, fell warrior of the Eldar," one said in passable Sindarin, "a debt of gratitude my kinsman and I owe thee." They stooped to collect their bags.
"For 600 years I fought the Great Enemy and yet I find his legacy alive even after his defeat. 'Tis in part why I left Aman, and fighting yon brigands is part of that purpose. It gladdens my heart though to spare thou and thy kinsman from harm," Helluin replied in Sindarin. She began to sheath her sword but noticed the intense looks of interest the Dwarves were regarding it with. She held the blade out for them to appraise. "This is Anguirel, forged by Eöl of Nan Elmoth of sky-iron. It hath cloven all delved steel I have set it against thus far and it hath preserved my life and many others."
The black blade, technically a longsword, was double-edged, nearly a yard long past the hilts, with fullers on either side, and it narrowed to a wicked point. With both distal taper and an evenly narrowing width, it was light for its length and extremely sharp, a perfect tool for the shearing of mail, the piercing of plate, and the hewing of flesh and bone. As had been said aforetime, unlike the typically showy blades of the Eldar, it bore no script, no engraved traceries, and no inlays, nor had it been polished mirror bright. In sunlight the steel showed an iridescence of many subtle colors that flickered upon the black metal as it moved. In battle a wavering and ghostly phosphorescence shown upon it. The crossguard and pommel were of the same black steel as the blade, whilst the handgrip was of carved wood wound 'bout in thongs of black leather. Like its twin, Anglachél, 'twas sentient.
"Thou art Noldor," the second Dwarf said in the blunt manner of the Naugrim, nodding to himself with certainty. "Eöl the Morben¹ was at times a guest at the smithies of Nogrod and Belegost. Had thou dealings with the people of Mahal, yonder in the Blessed Lands?" He asked hopefully. ¹(Morben, Dark Elf, properly applied to the Moriquendi. Sindarin)
"From the Maiar of Aulë, whom thou call Mahal, I learnt the forging and tempering of steel and the working of many metals," Helluin answered, "but it hath been an Age since last I stood at a forge."
The Dwarf regarded her with speculation for a moment ere speaking again.
"Warrior, would thou allow my kinsman and me to host thee in our halls for a time, in gratitude for delivering us from the robbers? Perhaps both thee and we could gain in knowledge and enrich our craft? We would make thee welcome, the first of the Eldar e'er to come to our mansions."
Helluin thought about their offer. She'd ne'er really had close relations with the Naugrim, but she knew of their mastery at crafts. Swiftly her curiosity about them and their home o'ercame any reservations she had. The explorer o'erruled the warrior. Yes, there were many things she could learn from them. And now she served no lord, nor was she constrained by any quest. Helluin's time was her own to spend.
"I would be honored, and I would willingly share what I know," she told the Dwarves. "T'would also please me greatly to learn from thee, perhaps bettering my speech in the language of thy people, what of it thou art willing to teach. I foresee us both profiting thus. In years to come it may ease the way for others of our people."
The Dwarves smiled happily at her acceptance and open manner. She was neither cold nor haughty as the Noldor had been reported to be by their people who had emigrated from Belegost. Such impressions had probably arisen from the early dealings of the Naugrim with Caranthir son of Fëanor and his host in Thargelion, who had e'er treated them with disdain. That impression had been reinforced after by many small incidents. The Naugrim for their part were not without fault, being clannish, secretive, and at times o'ermastered by their greed for treasure. This in fact had led to the slaughter at Sarn Athrad in Ossiriand, when the host of Nogrod slew Elu Thingol, King of Doriath, and sacked his halls of Menegroth. Of course this incident had been the culmination of a long and oft tense relationship with the Sindar.
The Host of Nogrod had after been utterly destroyed by Beren and the Laiquendi, or so the tale had been told to Helluin's ears. That the Elves had been unknowingly aided by the very Onodrim whose mates she had once met in the Ered Wethrin, Helluin had no knowledge. Those of the Naugrim thus dispatched had escaped the Green Elves' ambush and had perished unmarked upon the slopes of the Ered Luin far beyond the battle.
The strange trio took to the road, trading stories and the gossip of Eriador. As they went forward, each practiced the language of the other, and e'er quick to learn, Helluin could speak passably the everyday tongue of Durin's folk ere they came to the west door of Hadhodrond, the Deep Delving of the Dwarves.
The Dwarves had declared their names to be Gikli and Merk, and they were prospectors, abroad for a time seeking ores, a preoccupation of the Naugrim no matter how rich the lodes they already knew. They directed Helluin along a well-laid road that tracked the course of the pleasant stream Sirannon, which led eventually to a low cliff that the road continued up in switchbacks to the north of a flight of sturdy stairs. At the top, the road resumed and led 'round a curve to the rampart of a tall cliff in which a massive iron portcullis stood open. Many centuries later the Elves of Eregion would aid the Dwarves in the construction of the Hidden Gates, of which later bards have sung, but in this time no such contrivance yet existed. With passwords exchanged, the door wardens allowed Helluin, Gikli, and Merk to pass.
During the following years she spent in Khazad-dûm, Helluin taught and learnt much of the craft of the forge, for in tempering, the Naugrim were the undisputed masters in Middle Earth. The Guild of Smiths slowly accepted her and she worked the hot steel at their furnaces, winning their respect. In those days she also learnt much of masonry and the mining of ores. Deep 'neath the mansions and halls of Khazad-dûm lay the pits and shafts from which the Dwarves wrested their metals from the earth. Many an expedition Helluin joined for the finding of iron and gold, tin and silver, copper and zinc, cobalt and mercury, and on none of these did she lay any claim, though the discoveries she made enriched the houses of the lords of Khazad-dûm. 'Twas in her eleventh year underground when she made a more valuable discovery, for she had perceived the flow of strata and correctly guessed at the presence of a vein of mithril ore where none had been expected. This incited the lust of her hosts, but as she had aforetime, Helluin laid no claim to the lode. For some years she had spoken fluently in the tongue of Durin's people, though she learnt none of their secret words. She spoke to them in it now, and the initial strangeness of this Elf speaking Khuzdul whilst standing in their halls had become commonplace to them.
"All that lies 'neath Durin's Halls rightly belongs to Durin's Folk," she told them to their astonishment. "Take of it what thou will, yet I would petition thy lords for such of it as would make for me some mail to protect me when I leave, for I lead a warrior's life in the outside world and such may save me one day."
Then Gneiss son of Gnoss, a master craftsman of the Guild of Smiths, spoke to her saying, "none have spoken fairer to my ears, be they Eldar or Khazâd, for the wealth of this lode would make one a lord. In token of this, allow me to craft for thee from this ore the finest armor of mithril ere thou take thy leave of us. Thou shalt truly bear hence a king's ransom."
Such an offer was beyond generous, for the Naugrim seldom clad even their own warriors in the precious metal, and for one of her stature, the armor would eclipse the treasure of no few lords. The labor alone might take the master smith o'er a year, for mithril was not the easiest of ores to smelt and forge. Long weeks would be spent merely hot winding the drawn wire onto steel mandrels and then slitting the coils to make the raw rings. Thanks were in order on both sides, yet for Helluin, 'twas also important to emphasize that she desired not to leave Khazad-dûm wearing a king's ransom, but rather with the most impenetrable armor that could be fabricated in Middle Earth. Therefore she spoke again to Gneiss.
"No treasure do I desire to burden me upon my road, for in no place have I established halls or treasury. Yet armor of mithril I would have, for such mail even my sword Anguirel cannot cleave, and such rings art light and supple beyond any steel that craft can make. In all of Middle Earth, no hands art so masterful as those of the craftsmen of Khazad-dûm, for where else now in Arda art there any who have worked this metal and know its secrets?"
And so Gneiss and his apprentices refined the ore, and when they had obtained mithril, they set to work to make ring-mail and articulated plates for Helluin. Such was their craft in those days, that the work of their smithy lay smooth as a second skin upon her body, light and flexible as silk, and Anguirel could not cut it, nor could the thrust of a spear pierce it. The masters of Khazad-dûm fashioned Helluin's armor such that it fit her as a short-skirted battle dress, a mail hauberk with a ring neck that a coif could overlie. Unlike steel mail, 'twas worn atop a thin shift rather than underlain by the padding of a gambeson or quilted arming tunic. O'er the mail Helluin wore a supple, black leather battle dress of the same fashion she'd worn in Gondolin, and thence a long, hooded cloak for ill-weather. Pauldrons, vambraces and grieves they made for her as well, of lapped plates harder than dragon scales. When all was finished, Helluin saw the shining rings, mirror-bright, and knew this would ne'er do.
"Bright and fair is this armor, Gneiss, and handsome t'would be for a lord in the vanguard of an army," she told him gently, wishing to spare his feelings, for his efforts had been great, "yet a lone warrior is best unseen and unmarked. I would have these plates and mail washed with galvorn to make them black, thereby to hide both me and its unique worth."
Galvorn was a black alloy devised by Eöl. It looked like nothing more than blackened steel, hardly showy, and anyone seeing Helluin's armor would take it for such, yet though galvorn was malleable enough to form such fine rings, it had not the strength of mithril.
Gneiss gave her a cunning smile, "I understand now aright thy purpose and thy need, and am at the last fully persuaded of it."
Perhaps for the first time even he was convinced that Helluin's desire for armor of mithril came not from its value as treasure, but for the peerless properties of the metal itself. No finer protection from enemy weapons existed in Middle Earth. When she had arrived in Khazad-dûm, what armor she wore had been of a few steel plates backed by hard leather. By blackening the mithril's finish, no glint or tell-tale reflection would be cast. Not even the visible parts of the coif, hauberk, pauldrons, bracers, grieves, and the mail on her breast above her leathers would draw unwanted attention.
And now Helluin appeared, not like the Elven lords or the great warriors of the Noldor, shining star-bright in the glory of their gem-encrusted battle-gear, but rather as one of their own; a fell fighter of the elite black companies of Hadhodrond, who slew the Glamhoth in the dark places of the world 'neath mountain and stone. Yet none would mistake her for one of Durin's Folk. She was two-heads taller and the Light of Aman burned in the blue fire of her eyes. Indeed the black armor and leather joined her sword and the fall of her hair to frame those eyes, outwardly augmenting her dark spirit to create a terrifying apparition of menace. Then Gneiss son of Gnoss, seeing her for the first time attired thus, exclaimed, "behold, the Mórgolodh¹!" ¹(Mórgolodh, "Black Exile" = mór (black, dark) + golodh (exiled elf; Noldo). Sindarin)
To Be Continued