In An Age Before – Part 41
Two others amongst the allies shone with unnatural brilliance for those eyes that could see. Upon horseback to Helluin's north, where the cavalry had ridden to secure the road from Sarn Athrad, a figure of Light charged against the mounted companies of the Easterlings who had gathered there. The very Light of Aman outshone the reflections of Anor upon his polished armor, whilst the twinkling reflections on his swift sword came as a flicker-flash of deadly lightning. From beyond the grave and the Halls of Mandos had Glorfindel come, Valarauko's Bane, alive and riding to war again in this latter day, and bringing the wrath of the Eldar of old upon the minions of Morgoth's Lieutenant. Now, with 'naught but Men and Yrch to oppose him, he was unstoppable.
In the First Age few had eclipsed the hatred reserved for Sauron Gorthaur by the Noldor of the Hidden City, and of those who had approached him, no other survived. Now Glorfindel sought the Master of the Black Tower, for the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin had come back to Middle Earth with this intention, to lay low the last of Morgoth's servants who could still jeopardize the peace of the Mortal Shores.
With him rode Ereinion son of Fingon, Gil-galad, 3rd High King of the Exiled Noldor, blazing with the reflections from his mirror polished armor o'erlain with silver. Upon his shield bright gems twinkled, and upon the point of his spear did flashes of sunlight flare. With bitter thrusts he slew his enemies, driving the point of Aeglos¹ deep to spill their black blood. About him a great press of the Noldor rode, and to his banner, silver star on blue, did they rally. Yet no Light of Aman brightened his figure, for he had been born in Beleriand and had ne'er left the Hither Shores. ¹(Aeglos, Snow Point, Gil-galad's spear. Sindarin)
'Twas for the death of his father that Gil-galad sought redress, for in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad it had been Sauron who had prosecuted his master's western flank against the 2nd High King of the Noldor. Though it had been Gothmog who had dealt Fingon's death stroke, Sauron had done his master's bidding in provoking untimely the charge of the Elven Host and ruining the battle plan of the Eldar. Now no Balrog marched in Sauron's Host, and on this day no Man or Orch could withstand the king's wrath, nor hold at bay his desire for vengeance.
From his place far to the rear of the battle, Sauron marked the failure of his soldiery and he was filled with wrath. Though he had bent the power of his Ring against the allies and assayed to give strength to his own, still his host had been worsted. The terror that his presence instilled in others was o'erwhelmed by the hatred and battlelust of his foes. With his sight did he mark that many amongst the Eldar's eyes shone with the Light of Aman, for these were the remnant of the Noldor that had come in Exile to Mortal Lands in the dawntime of the sun, and they had seen the Trees. They were bitter enemies, beyond his mortal soldiers' ability to withstand, and he hated them now as he always had.
But his eyes also marked the presence of the three who were deadliest to his cause. Gil-galad the High King, son of Fingon whom he had faced aforetime, was the least of them, Noldor by birth, but not a true Calaquende. Many upon the field rallied to him and he held their allegiance. But Sauron swore that on some day in a year yet to come, he would fell this lesser king of greater sires. Next was Glorfindel, resurrected from the dead, whom he would not choose to assail, for no figure who blazed with such inner Light could he any longer withstand, not since passing so much of his personal power into his Ring. And last there was Helluin, blazing just as brightly as Glorfindel, though she had ne'er died! It should not have been possible. Worse, within her Light he beheld a darkness that he had ne'er seen in any of the Eldar, a power that inspired those 'round her to e'er greater acts of violence. In this her nature was akin to his own and at that he marveled the more. But yet more disturbing still was the blue fire flaring from her eyes. From whence had such a ril of sapphire in a Child of Ilúvatar come?
From the depths of his memory Sauron dredged up an image that still made him shiver. In the earliest days of his cleaving to his dark master's will he had remained amongst the Maiar of Aulë, and upon the Isle of Almaren he had seen such aforetime. Of all those he had e'er known since the singing of the Ainur's Song, only the Elder King had such eyes¹. They had once glanced upon him with disappointment and pity, and he had shrunken 'neath the weight of them and fled. ¹("Manwë has no thought for his own honor, and is not jealous of his power, but rules all to peace…His raiment is blue, and blue is the fire of his eyes…" The Sil, Ch. I, OTBOD, pg. 35.)
Even as he thought it and his gaze was focused yet upon Helluin, marking her slaughter of his soldiery at a tireless rate of about 100 an hour, she sought him 'cross all the miles that lay 'twixt them. Perhaps she felt his thought upon her. Perhaps, having defeated him during his attack in 1600, she had somehow become aware of his malevolence e'er after. He was astonished. And from that great distance of no less than a dozen miles, with the sight of a fallen but deathless spirit, he clearly saw the sneer she cast his way. And then she returned to the battle, pursuing and slaying her enemies with the same glee and abandon that he himself would have shown if only he still dared.
The Battle of Baranduin continued through the day and the Host of Sauron was driven ten miles east in disarray. Many companies of Yrch fled outright, whilst others fought their way back in a more orderly retreat. Some companies of the Easterlings were grim and gave way only after vicious combat, and these earned a grudging respect from the Eldar and the Dúnedain, for they laid down their lives like any soldiers fighting for their lord. But all gave ground before the Host of the Allies. In the night that followed, none of Gorthaur's officers commanded more than their own company, for order had broken down and chaos reigned amongst them, and so Sauron's forces failed to regroup.
The next day the fighting continued, and then the next. E'er the battle line drew further east and the losses amongst the Yrch and the Easterlings were very great. By the fourth day the cavalry of the allies was seeking Gorthaur's scattered companies, hunting them and driving them towards the Glanduin, whilst the infantry swept in behind to secure the land and finish off the stragglers. Few were the actual counterattacks against them, and these were quickly quashed.
By the morning of the fifth day Sauron's Host was broken and it had been driven back a hundred miles from the River Baranduin. Indeed they were now two-thirds of the way to Tharbad, where the Road crossed the River Glanduin. O'er the next week the rout continued 'til the River Glanduin was visible as a ribbon of bright water disappearing into the cover of forest to the south. It lay but a few miles behind the enemy lines. 'Twas then that Sauron's forces received reinforcements at last. The third host from Mordor arrived upon the field, 50,000 fresh troops out of Khand. Now the enemy had a respite at last and stood a chance of reversing their losses. By order of their master they would engage the allies the next morning and drive them back to Baranduin.
Now for the first time since the Men of Westernesse had arrived in Lindon, there was real jeopardy again. The Host of Sauron outnumbered the Host of the Allies, but most of Sauron's troops were untried in battle. This lack of real experience, and the fact that they had just completed the march from Mordor, gave Gil-galad great hope for the outcome of the next few days. This time Ciryatur was less optimistic.
"The forces I ordered to Lond Daer should have halted the advance of this army," the Ship Lord said that night after a quick check of the phase of the moon. "Ne'er should they have come even to Tharbad, but rather they should have met their fate, waylaid enroute and slaughtered." A month had passed since last he had seen his troops.
Gil-galad noted Ciryatur's concern, but he believed they could o'ercome their enemy. Reports had come to him of the preparations of Sauron's forces. The host had arrived but set no camp, built no palisades or defensive works 'round their position, and had barely unpacked their kits. They were going to march to battle without pause. Most likely they would attack in the morning. Despite the fact that Ciryatur's second host hadn't appeared, the High King had faith that his troops were far superior to the soldiers from Khand. When the fighting started, the change in numbers wouldn't matter.
"I want all awake and fed ere dawn," Gil-galad announced, "all the signs speak of an attack in the morning. We must be ready. Only by taking us at unawares can they win a victory. Ours art the advantages of morale, prowess, and inspiration."
"We shalt be armed and ready," Ciryatur said, if a bit grimly, "and we shalt test their mettle, for if they art to win a victory, dearly bought with their blood shalt it be."
"Then when they come hither we shalt march forth to meet them," Gil-galad declared, "and together we shalt drive them back. We shalt drive them back to Glanduin…nay, we shalt drive them back all the way to Mordor."
Red rose Anor upon that morning, bathing all the land with the hue of blood. Ere the allied camp, the 52,000 surviving Elves and Men stood ready to do battle. 'Cross a scorched mile of no man's land, 73,000 Yrch and Men began their advance and the ground trembled at the rumor of their feet. For the first time since their defeat at the River Lune, they marched west. After a quarter-hour they could see the lines of the Dúnedain and Eldar awaiting them in silent ranks and files, infantry straight ahead, cavalry to the north facing their own right flank, the ruddy light of the rising sun reflecting like fire from their polished armor. O'er the troops a forest of blue banners bearing either a silver star, or a rayed star above a white tree fluttered in the morning breeze, though it felt as if all of Arda held its breath. Not a bird chirped; only the tramp of marching boots was to be heard. 'Twas 2 Lothron, (May 2nd) S.A. 1700.
For a while longer the lines held as they converged, a quarter-mile, then a furlong; the Host of Mordor came on as the Allies stood still, waiting, silent, and ready. The distance 'twixt them diminished; now one hundred yards, now seventy-five, now fifty. Then came the single ringing note of a silver trumpet calling forth in greeting to the sun, and still no longer, the infantry of the Allies charged forward at last. As one, the tide of warriors came with the morning's light flaring blood red on their plate and mail, their polished swords drawn in a hiss from a multitude of scabbards. The Host of Sauron hastened forward to meet them, screaming challenges and cursing in many tongues, their blood heated with lust of mayhem. But now as they drew 'nigh for battle, o'er all the din of the charge, from the throats of the Men of Westernesse came the cry, "Beltho Huiniath!". And then the hosts slammed together.
The clash of their lines resounded 'cross the lands of central Eriador. Steel met steel, bodies collided, voices were raised, and blood was spilt. The cries of the dying rose to the heavens. The lines blurred into a press of fighters, each an individual seeking survival and victory. A million glints of light shone, reflected from armor and weapons, flashing and flickering with deadly slashes and bitter thrusts. Dust rose from the tumult of combat as a quarter-million boots milled the earth, seeking purchase, striving to drive back the enemy. The very world seemed to groan 'neath the weight of so much wrath.
Then o'er all the din there came the pounding of the hooves of 16,000 war horses. The very ground shook in their passage upon the field. The cavalry of the Eldar and the Dúnedain smashed headlong into the right flank of Sauron's Host, driving a wedge deep into their ranks with a thicket of lances and spears. Before them the bodies of their enemies were flung airborne by the impacts, or impaled upon the blades of their weapons. Hard and bitter was their charge, and deep amidst their foes did they penetrate, and there they hewed the host from within the press of its ranks.
Upon the front lines the battle seesawed, with fighting constant 'cross a mile of land. There Helluin, with a great company of Dúnedain about her, again forced back the Yrch and Easterlings she faced. In that place the line bulged forward, for the enemy could not withstand her. Rather they gave way, unable to match her ferocity, or the wrath that she inspired amongst those Men who fought beside her.
Then, though the first hour had yet to pass, from the north came the army that Sauron had called back to battle from its leaguer outside Imladris. These he threw into the fray upon the rearguard of the cavalry, and soon the riders were cut off from retreat, surrounded by foes on all sides, and hemmed in by the press of their attackers. The circle of enemies tightened 'round them and the fighting grew more desperate.
Seeing this, the enemy was greatly heartened and they fought with increased vigor. And Sauron, from his campsite set upon a bluff o'erlooking Tharbad, bent now all his thought and all his power thither, and with his Ring did he set lust for blood and fear of failure deep in the hearts of his soldiers. Thus for a time they were strengthened in will and hand, and they stemmed the advance of the allies, and then slowly turned them back.
Now Sauron's legions moved forward, concentrating themselves more closely to widen the distance 'twixt the battle line and the trapped cavalry. The enemies took advantage of their numerical superiority, crowding together in a dense press to force the allies west. Despite Helluin and the Dúnedain about her, the mass of fighters beyond them was driven slowly back 'til they too were in jeopardy of being enveloped. Then their only choice was to slowly withdraw with the rest of their forces, one grudging step at a time, whilst leaving in their wake a litter of bodies. For Helluin, any retreat whilst 'neath the influence of the rage that burned in her blood was as bitter as it had been in the Nirnaeth, when, save for the entreaty of the brethren of Dor-lómin, she would have continued in her rampage though she be left alone upon the field facing all the Host of Angband. Yet she was older now and less reckless even in her wrath, and though the fire burned no less hotly in her veins, she found herself moving back, her sword and ring blade warding off the blows of her enemies to protect those beside her as much as herself.
So the fighting continued to the second hour, both sides whittling down the count of their foes' hosts. But now a hundred yards lay 'twixt Helluin and the cavalry and there was 'naught that she could do against so many who stood 'twixt them. The battle had turned against the Allies, and the thought of Sauron Gorthaur gloating o'er the outcome made his name bitter upon her tongue. She had already slain well 'nigh two hundreds, yet on this day she could slay 1,000 and little difference would it make. She watched the banners of blue draw yet another pace further away, and in anger she hewed off the heads of three of the Rhûnwaith who stood before her. Anguirél as e'er was pleased with the taste of their blood. But the fighting continued unto the third hour and then the fourth, and e'er the infantry and cavalry were driven further asunder.
Helluin blinked the sweat and sprayed blood from her eyes, and for a moment she cast her gaze to the sky. Anor stood high, 'nigh the zenith, and noon lay but a short span away. The blue banners of her friends and king were far away. O'er an hour before, the infantry had been forced back beyond the place of their encampment, and now that familiar ground lay littered with the bodies of the dead, both their own and the enemy's. They had been forced back o'er half a mile. Now a new mood came upon Helluin, something beyond the rage of battle that was her custom, and for the first time since she had stood amidst the Fall of Gondolin, she committed herself to meeting her death with her hands well stained in the blood of her enemies.
If 'tis my time to come unto thy house, O Námo, then so be it, she thought grimly, but not for 'naught shalt I take my leave, of life, of love for these lands, and of my beloved's heart. Unto the waiting place of my fëa shalt I go hence, and therein I shalt await thee, meldis meldwain nín, even if it be 'til the ending of days. Yet ere me shalt I send a thousand times my count unto the Void.
Her resolve had changed in the blink of an eye, and in the outer world not a heartbeat had passed, but within, 'twas a different Helluin who lived and fought, for now she had accepted the loss of her ties to the Mortal Shores. She would fight to the last, and then come again to Aman and whatsoe'er welcome awaited her there. If she had been fell aforetime, inspiring her fellows and terrifying her foes, now she astonished both anew. And forgetting the lines of battle or the strategy of war, she merely fought, seeing only the enemy facing her, and feeling only the desire to shed their blood. In that moment, she and Anguirél became of one mind and one spirit, craving 'naught but the blood of her foes. Now she strode forward, retreating no longer, slaying any she could reach, oblivious to anything save her rage, her weapons, and her enemy.
"More blood, more blood!" cried the hungry Black Sword, "ne'er can I drink enough!"
Now the Dúnedain looked upon her onslaught, and followed behind the wake of her destruction. Ne'er had they seen arms wielded with such blinding speed or such deadly precision. She wasted not a stroke, one motion blending into the next, and with every thrust and swing, another foe fell before her. Helluin strode amongst her mortal enemies as if walking through a field of tall weeds, hewing them down mercilessly, heedless of their attempts to take her, and erring ne'er in the mastery of her swordplay. The trail of bodies behind her lengthened, marking her passage forward, and Men surged forward behind her. One company and then another moved into the gap, keeping clear the way and driving aside the Yrch and Easterlings upon either flank. More and more followed, forming an e'er lengthening and widening wedge amidst the host of their enemies. And at its apex spearheading the counterattack, came Helluin Maeg-mórmenel, eyes blazing with blue flames, a brilliance shining about her that eclipsed the noonday sun.
"To the Admiral! To the King!" cried out the soldiers who followed her, thinking that her goal was the relief of the cavalry. In the host behind, others took up their cry and surged forward with renewed vigor.
"I am coming for thee, O Gorthaur," Helluin whispered, "and ere I let go this life, I shalt repay thee for thy trespasses. Blood thou owes me and more. Fear me if thou wilt, fight me if thou can. Flee me if thou can'st." And without a backward glance she hewed her way forward stride by stride.
'Cross a handful of miles, Sauron Gorthaur heard her words through all the din of battle that lay 'twixt them. He looked nervously towards the fighting, seeking to pinpoint from whence those fell words had come, for they had struck upon his spirit as a splash of bitter acid and he marked the burn of them gravely. Few upon Middle Earth could make a threat that he would take seriously, but she was one, and though he doubted truly that she could o'ercome him, he would not choose to face her willingly. Too many things might go awry in such a contest. From his vantage point he noted that she had fought her way deep into his host, recouping almost fifty yards so far, whilst behind her a widening wedge of Men followed, creating a dangerous division in his forces. As he watched, more and more of the Dúnedain poured into the press of counter attackers, widening the cleft in the battle front. 'Twas not acceptable.
Again he bent his will upon his soldiers, and with his Ring he projected power for them to withstand the onslaught of the Dúnedain. But now his power was balanced by the inspiration the Dúnedain felt when they followed in Helluin's wake and partook of her mayhem. Every soldier of Westernesse sought to share in the mythic events she was bringing to pass; they sought to share in her immortality by becoming a part of the future writ by her hand; they sought to write themselves a place in the legend that this day would become. Without conscious thought, Helluin's example strengthened her allies' hearts to match the fell power their enemy projected.
As Sauron had foreseen, Helluin's darkness drew forth the darkness in others. Her violence incited violence in those of lesser power about her and they clove to her. He watched her closely and ne'er had he desired more strongly to seduce one to his will; could he only corrupt her to his side, he would gladly make such a dark spirit his regent and the Viceroy of the Barad-dûr. He would make her Supreme Battle Commander of all his armies, for upon the field she had no peer. Such was his fantasy. Helluin excited him. The useless thing between his legs throbbed and hardened at the thought of perverting her to his evil, and so he resented her all the more, for her power had affected him and even he was subject to it. Oh how he desired and hated her. Thus distracted by the tension within himself, his concentration on his Ring faltered and his reinforcement of his soldiers faltered as well.
Now still Sauron Gorthaur awaited the last of his companies, and their tardiness vexed him, though he knew them to be the least reliable of all his subjects. Long had he known of the growing hatred 'twixt the Men of Westernesse and the Enedwaith in the southern forests about the Glanduin. These savages, he had also learnt, held a longstanding animosity towards the Eldar. 'Twas only natural that he enlist them in his war against their mutual enemies, and they had reluctantly agreed, though they had maintained that, though thou be the enemy of our enemies, thou art not our friend. He had merely nodded in agreement. He detested them, wanted little from them, and certainly not their friendship. They were barbarians, primitives, cannibals 'twas rumored, fit only for servitude 'neath the lash and then death. I am not thy friend, true, he had thought, but for a time I shalt be thy master. So where were they now? Ciryatur was not alone in his expectations of forces that had not yet arrived.
The sun fell from the noon. Helluin had recouped o'er a hundred yards. Behind her the Dúnedain had held and widened her path, and now a cleft of equal width and length split the battle front asunder. A furlong still separated her from the cavalry. She considered it not at all. Such goal as she had lay beyond the lines of battle, past the rearguard of the enemy host, and far behind their encampment.
The battle continued in its ferocity though hours had passed since the initial clash. The mortals on both sides grew weary, indeed well 'nigh exhausted, and though their blows came neither so hard nor so swift as aforetime, terror and rage and stubborn conviction kept them fighting. The field was still undecided and neither army could withdraw ere a conclusion was reached. In her single minded fury Helluin knew no fatigue, and her speed was all the more evident as those of mortal blood about her slowed down.
Helluin had lost track of time. The host of enemies about her had ceased to trouble her. Indeed their weapons bit not upon her armor and she slew them as one would swat a midge. By now she had lost any tally of the count of her vanquished. She cared 'naught for them at all. In a corner of her awareness was a sense that pointed the way towards her real enemy. She could feel him like a dark beacon calling softly to her, unerringly drawing her footsteps thither. She slew another half-dozen and kept to her course.
By mid-afternoon, Helluin was within thirty yards of the cavalry, but to the dismay of the Men in her wake, she appeared to be aiming to skirt them. She was forging ahead in a direction that would bring her past the embattled riders by several dozen yards to their south. None marked that she had e'er been headed in a beeline towards a bluff beside Tharbad, three miles beyond the rear of the battle, upon which a commander's tent had been set, and above which fluttered a black pennant bearing the device of a yellow eye. The Dúnedain were also too preoccupied with the fighting to note that from a direction yet some degrees further south, a great cloud of dust was rising in the near distance.
Throughout the afternoon, Helluin had periodically vented her rage in dire curses and threats, whispered with venomous vitriol against the master of her enemies. Again and again she had challenged and upbraided Sauron, somehow knowing that he was aware of her. It had kept him focused on the battle, and more precisely on her. Indeed, Maia though he was, he too had failed to mark the gravity of the new approach from the south, dismissing it without investigation as his long truant allies from Enedwaith. Had he realized the danger, he could have foreseen the disaster that was about to unfold.
In the fourth hour past noon, the wedge with Helluin at its head had cloven the Host of Sauron well 'nigh in half. 'Twas then that the approaching army unfurled its banners, deep blue, and bearing a rayed star above a white tree. Thus the expeditionary force Ciryatur had sent to Lond Daer, delayed for weeks amidst the forest smiting the Host of Enedwaith, came up at last to the battle. They drove against the southern fraction of the enemy, loosing first a hail of arrows at point blank range, and then charging afoot, and quickly Sauron's troops were o'errun.
The Men and Elves who had followed Helluin turned on their enemies to the north, and having seen the banners of their friends, fought with renewed vigor and drove those standing against them in a rout to the north with much slaughter. But few of the enemy, some thousand from mixed companies, escaped the carnage.
At last the press upon the cavalry was relieved, and there came Gil-galad, and Ciryatur, and Glorfindel, and the other knights of the Allied Host, able at last to ride against their foes. To them galloped the cavalry from Lond Daer, reinforcing them and breaking the encirclement about them with a charge of lances. Many of the foe they ran down, or slaughtered as they fled the field. For the next two hours the bloodbath continued and the Host of Sauron was swept away as so many parched stalks of hay before a firestorm. By day's ending so few remained that rather than pursue them through the night, the High King and the Admiral ordered their troops to stand down and set a new camp.
Now when the battle had been broken by the arrival of the host from Lond Daer, the path before Helluin had quickly been laid open. Then she had made her way southeast in haste, Anguirél in one hand, the Sarchram in the other. 'Cross the miles she ran, fleet as a deer, seeking to come against the Dark Lord in his tent upon the bluff 'nigh Tharbad. She covered the distance quickly, but not quickly enough, for Sauron Gorthaur had kept his eye upon her and knew when would come the moment of her arrival.
Not this day, Helluin, he thought, not in the hour of my host's defeat do I choose to face thee. Another time, another place perhaps…and time we both have. But I salute thy darkness nonetheless. No Child of the One has slain in a day more foes than thou. Yet rather woulds't I seduce thee than slay thee. Nay, we shalt not meet this day.
When Helluin arrived, Sauron was but recently fled; the dust from the hooves of his horses still hung in the air. He had left a company of guards to waylay or delay her, but these she slew in a few minutes. He had not left a single horse. With every heartbeat her enemy raced further away in the gathering gloom, and she was powerless to pursue him. She could feel his receding presence as a taunt upon her spirit.
Sauron had left one further token of his passing from Eriador. Beside the entrance to his tent stood the pole standard of his Glamhoth, the shriveled and smoke blackened remains of Celebrimbor, all the worse for six years of being carried before his armies. The arrow shafts still hung from the desiccated shreds of his flesh. In anger and frustration, Helluin hewed the black pennant from the top of Gorthaur's tent, carrying it off to present as a trophy of victory to her king. Then she took every other item in the campsite, stacked them high, and laid the mummified body of her friend atop it as a funeral pyre. With its black smoke rising to the heavens behind her, Helluin left the bluff and made her way back to the victorious army.
To Be Continued