In An Age Before - Part 105
Chapter Seventy-two
One Against an Army – The Third Age of the Sun
Now seeing the impending doom of her allies, outnumbered, outclassed, and outfought, Helluin drew the black coif of galvorn washed mithril o'er her head. At her side, Beinvír readied her bow.
'Twas fear commingled with rage that kindled the ancient Noldo's battle fire. As her body grew incandescent with a ril of silver and gold, she drew the black sword Anguirél, whilst her left hand lifted the Sarchram from its clip at her belt. Blue fire flared in her eyes.
Upon Helluin's right, the Green Elf knocked and fired her first arrow, its flight passing through the blaze of Helluin's luminescence and thence through the wall of flames. It kindled and smote the lieutenant of Zärlagab's vanguard through the eye-slot of his iron war mask.
Then o'er the field Helluin's ancient battle cry rang out, chilling the blood of Naugrim and North Men alike with the rage it presaged, "Im pedo, beltho huiniath!"
From the black sword of Gondolin came the cold and eager voice of Anguirél, "Baw díhenas! Im aníro sereg!"
Then Helluin and Beinvír charged down the slope to join the king and fall upon their enemies, and the Dwarves saw their coming as a blinding arrow of flame or a shooting star, advancing upon them in the light of day from Varda's sapphire vault. But the riders felt uplifted and they took heart, and their courage was renewed. They charged now upon their enemies, jabbing with their bitter spears and keeping the axes of their foes at bay with their greater reach. Arrows they loosed upon the Naugrim from short range, e'er moving upon their steeds, stinging and then gone ere the counterstroke fell. In their hearts, though they understood not the Sindarin of Helluin's cry, still they felt her battle fire in their own hearts, and they slew with joy, some singing the war songs of their fathers, whilst yet others took up the cries of the Noldo and her sword in their own tongue; "I say, kill 'em all!", "No mercy! I want blood!"
Against the vanguard of the Dwarves, the Green Elf loosed her arrows, and each of her two dozen shafts found a lethal mark amongst the bodyguard of Prince Zärlagab. Though the speed of her firing was but a blur to their mortal eyes, each drawing of her bow encompassed that moment of flawless aim in which the motions of archer, arrow, and target coalesced to a meeting well 'nigh preordained by the Laiquende's prowess. O'er 4,000 years of shooting assured her mastery, and it came from a tradition that had been born ere the Sun or Moon rose o'er Beleriand in the First Age of Middle Earth.
Yet as those standing 'nigh the prince fell to the Green Elf's bow craft, a more ancient rage was visited upon them. Clad in the peerless mail and plate from the smithies of Khazad-dûm, yet taller and more deadly than any servant of Mahal, Helluin slammed into her enemies with the fearlessness of one fey, yet with the lethal skills of the deathless warriors of Aman. In her right hand she wielded the black blade forged by Eol of Nan Elmoth, whilst in her left she bore the first Elvish Ring of Power, forged by Celebrimbor and Narvi, infused with the power of her own fëa, and inscribed with dark runes of fell potency. Both weapons hewed the Dwarf armor as if it were 'naught but leather or wicker. With the Sarchram she clove axe heads from their shafts. With Anguirél she pierced mail and plate. In her fury she well 'nigh carved armored bodies as if they were haunches upon the board at a feast. Arms and heads she lopped free. Warriors she impaled through the eye slits of their iron masks, driving her blade straight through the backs of their helms ere she flung the limp bodies from her weapon. In a quarter hour she was slick with blood, and the spray of it went up with the violence of her strokes. She carved a path straight through the vanguard, for her goal was the prince himself, and none upon that field could stay her.
Tirelessly did the dark Noldo advance and Zärlagab's orders came faster and more urgently as she drew 'nigh.
"Slay me this murderer of our king," he cried out to exhort his warriors as he turned from her to face them. "Avenge thy lord and the father of our people!"
'Twas not for lack of trying that none could withstand Helluin's assault. But a year aforetime she had slain 'nigh on two hundreds of the minions of the Sorcerer during her rampage in Dol Guldur. Through the ranks of the vanguard she cut her way, leaving a swath of stricken and broken soldiers behind her. 'Twas no stopping her. Indeed 'twas folly to try. None upon that field that day could have withstood her; not even the Green Elf who hewed her way beside her with paired fighting knives glinting fast in the bright sunlight. And when the prince of the Naugrim looked back, there she stood before him, dripping with the blood of his guard.
For a moment they were frozen, still as stone, looking into each other's eyes; sapphire blue and a brown so dark as to appear black, and then the Noldo raised her sword before her as if in salute. Thither, upon the first finger of her mailed fist was a heavy Ring of gold, set with a grey-green stone, the ancient work of her lost friend, Celebrimbor of Hollin. Recognizing it immediately, Prince Zärlagab's eyes widened in shock.
"Taunt me with thy stolen treasure, murderer?" he shouted as rage consumed him.
But Helluin's lips curled in a sneer as she regarded the prince.
"All that comes to pass shalt be seen by the Great Enemy in his malice, for this Ring has been perverted to his service," she told him, "and though such a trinket might rule a lesser mind to thralldom, to me 'tis 'naught but a trinket still. He tried to rule me through his enchantments long ago. He tried and he failed."
In SA 1600, 2,843 years aforetime and far to the west in Eriador, Sauron had made his gambit to enslave Helluin through the Sarchram that held a fragment of her own fëa. In a spiritual battle that had lasted half a year, the dark Noldo had wrested back control of her Ring, and she had fenced the fallen Maia out with his own element, fire. She had kept him blind to her upon well 'nigh every day since. Now she allowed him to see somewhat of her by wearing the Ring with which he had enslaved the will of the Naugrim's king.
"Thank me thou should, for I have freed thy father from servitude unending," Helluin told him, "and now I shalt free thee from the lust of it as well."
And ere he could recover from his shock, the black blade whistled and hewed off his head.
Now after the slaughter of their prince, the Dwarf army fought on bitterly, and in time their rage and their numbers sufficed to worst the North Men. Upon both flanks their lines advanced with fell and merciless wrath. Fey indeed did they seem, so hot did the resolve and courage of the mountain dwellers burn. With bare hands did they haul down Men from their steeds, heedless of their spear points and sword blades. Many a valiant rider fell to the axes of the Naugrim that day, and the field was littered with the bodies of Men and horses. Blood flowed 'neath the westering sun and the storm clouds finally cast their pall o'er the battle. Bereft of king and prince, the line of their ruling house broken, these Dwarves who had abandoned their ancestral home in the Emyn Angren fought as though they had no further joy in life and 'naught left to lose.
Yet many were the Dwarves who fell thither as well, and though their count was cut down 'neath a quarter of its first strength, the horsemen were soon so few that they could no longer offer battle. Fallen was King Lüdhgavia, unhorsed and o'erwhelmed amidst a circle of foemen, hacked limb from limb as he swung his sword. The valiant Captain Tröben and the knights of his guard, hewed as they rode to the rescue of their dying lord, lay lifeless beside him in their own pooling blood. Of five hundreds, barely fifty Men were still horsed and sound, and they could scarce assail the 'nigh on 800 surviving Naugrim.
As the first of the rains fell that evening, the Green Elf drew aside her partner for a moment from the whirlwind frenzy of slaying she'd become consumed in.
"Helluin! Min nar eriol,¹" Beinvír called out to the rampaging warrior. ¹(Min nar eriol We are alone = Min(1st pers subj pro, we) + na(no-, be + 3rd pers pl present suff, –ar) +eriol(alone) Sindarin)
"Baw," Helluin replied after pausing to take a look about, "ennas nar limb si degad! ²" ²(Baw, ennas nar limb si degad! Nay, there are many here to slay! = Baw,(no) + ennas(there) + na(are, no- + 3rd pers pl present suff, –ar) + limb(many) + si(here) + degad(to slay, dagi- + inf v suff, -ad) Sindarin)
Yet she marked the king's fallen standard and the few demoralized and shocked warriors who rode without captain or lieutenant, purposeless upon the margins of the field.
One look at her beloved caused the Laiquende's eyes to widen. Helluin was dripping head to foot with the blood of her fallen enemies, whilst a maniacal glint brightened her eyes and a sneer shaped her lips. Not since their solitary war against the Glamhoth in Eregion in an Age before had she seen Helluin so consumed. Even as the Green Elf watched, the Noldo lashed out with her left hand and sheared both arms from an attacking Dwarf with the Sarchram. 'Twas followed by a cackle of glee. Surely want of time only stayed the Noldo from atrocities. Perhaps even that accursed one of the Seven that she now wore exerted some dark influence. With a sigh, Beinvír resumed her sword play.
"Seregui! Seregui!³" the thirsty black sword chanted, as wholly consumed with the bloodshed as her mistress. ³(Seregui! Seregui! Ver. trans. More blood! More blood! sereg(blood) + -ui(adj on noun suff, for amplification, usually -ful,-y) Sindarin)
With Helluin fully occupied in the slaughter, 'twas the Green Elf who marked first the lightning and thunder from the southwest. She cocked an ear thither for a moment. Tis the heightening of the storm come upon us at last, she thought ere she returned to the fighting, and glad I should be for the washing away of all this gore.
For the two ellith time passed without measure, for 'naught could be counted but the fall of their enemies and the beating of their own hearts. As had Helluin been during her battle with the Úlairi in the cavern of Mt. Doom, so now did they exist wholly divorced from the concerns of the world and completely focused upon the fighting. In their success was the war craft of the Dwarves somewhat to blame. Only so many could surround an encircled foe whilst still retaining room to swing their axes, and this, combined with the prowess and tireless speed of the Elves, made it well 'nigh impossible for the Naugrim to lay a weapon upon either Helluin or Beinvír. And so the pair moved amidst their enemies, and the bodies of the vanquished fell all 'round them. Ere Anor's rising we shalt truly be alone, Helluin thought, and as 'twas in Taur-Im-Duinath when I aided Maedhros and Maglor in the defense of the Peredhil, t'will be fair Ithil and bright Eärendil that shalt witness our victory.
Yet that outcome was not to be without cost unlooked for. Clouds covered the sky, rain fell, and the burning grass was long extinguished. In the fourth hour of the battle, as Anor sought the western horizon and the rains continued to fall, a mischance unlooked for came upon the two ellith. Oft times the Dwarves had given flight to the short-hafted axes they carried in their belts, using these as thrown weapons. The whistling of a thrown axe as it spun through the air was warning aplenty to allow Helluin or Beinvír to duck or dodge aside. 'Twas only when by chance two of the Naugrim flung their axes so closely in time that their telltale sounds became conjoined that the situation became deadly. The first axe came from before the two ellith and Helluin easily sidestepped its flight. The Green Elf too marked its course, and realizing t'would pass her by some six inches, ignored it.
The second axe was no threat to the Noldo. She marked its path from her right and then turned her attention from it. Beinvír heard it and prepared to duck safely 'neath its course as she thrust with the blade in her left hand. 'Twas the third axe, thrown from the rear, and from a distance of but two fathoms, that proved fell. Just as the Green Elf dipped her upper body to evade the second axe, the third slammed into it in midair close by, and changing thus the courses of both, struck a glancing blow to the side of Beinvír's head.
The impact was from the hafted end of the axe head rather than the blade, but its weight and speed stunned the Laiquende and drove her to her knees. For a moment she saw stars and memories of things long ago. She barely got her right blade up in time to ward off the edge of a swung axe, deflecting it harmlessly o'er her head and throwing the Dwarf who wielded it off balance on the muddy field. He slipped. The force of his two-handed swing carried him 'round on one skidding boot, and he crashed hard into the stricken Elf, driving both to the ground and pinning her 'neath him with his armored weight, whilst impaling himself upon the long knife in her right hand. The crashing of his iron helm upon the Green Elf's already spinning head rendered her senseless and spilt her blood from a wound upon her scalp.
Far to the east, in a high fortress tower 'nigh the banks of the Sea of Rhûn, Sauron watched what his Ring showed forth of Helluin's combat. He wrung his vaporous hands in frustration as he watched his servants falling before the black blade of his greatest living foe. 'Twas not 'til the Noldo turned, having missed the whistling sounds of her partner's knives, that he saw 'aught to bring a cruel grin to his face. The Green Elf lay prone and unmoving 'neath one of his Dwarvish warriors. The o'erwhelming fear and rage he felt from Helluin brought him 'nigh the point of climax, so strongly did he relish her anguish. Then all his vision of the battle was eclipsed in a blinding flash of mingled silver and gold that seared both his undead eye and his foul spirit ere all went dark.
Upon the field Helluin saw her fallen beloved and the worst of her fears lay seemingly made real before her eyes. Beinvír slain; her treasured life stolen by some short-lived and mortal foe, her fëa even at that moment taking flight to Aman and the Halls of Mandos. Without a thought her strategies failed and in their place grew something more primal and far more potent; the ancient anguish she'd first felt upon the endless ice of the Helcaraxë ere she'd ever set foot back in Middle Earth.
Verinno! Beinvír! Gúr¹! ¹(Gúr(death) Sindarin)
Once in Eriador in an Age before, Helluin had spoken of this very chance with her old friend Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower of fallen Gondolin.
"Helluin, I knew thee in Gondolin and ere that in Aman. I knew thy brother too. You know I understand the source of thy darkness and what drives thee in battle. I see thee now with Beinvír and I am happy for thee both. But I cannot imagine what would come to pass should some doom befall her and leave thou alive, tied then to the world by yet another bond of heartache and memory."
"She refused passage to Tol Eressëa to stay with me," Helluin whispered. And after a pause, she added even more softly, "I would bathe this world in blood to avenge her."
'Twas but one of many memories that flashed swift as lightning 'cross the warrior's mind, and they came and went in the fleeting of a heartbeat, retreating ere the rising tide of her helpless rage. As Helluin silently screamed the names of her long lost brother and her fallen lover, the power that she had absorbed in a millennium of standing 'neath the incandescent dewfall of Laurelin and Telperion burst forth from her in a blinding flare that scorched to their deaths all those who stood 'nigh, and consumed wholly the tainted Ring of the House of Emyn Angren. The gold of its band and the stone of Celebrimbor ceased to exist, for though they had once been fair, they were indeed accursed and could exist not within the holy radiance of the Trees of Yavanna.
'Neath a darkening sky that wept chill rain, the blazing of that Light exploded outwards like the blast of some Ithron's magick. That Holy Ril did not dissipate, but rather did it persist in an e'er expanding ring, to be sensed by those with the power to feel it. So 'twas that far to the west, 'cross the great forest and the mighty river, and o'er the snow-capped Hithaeglir in hidden Imladris, two of the Wise reeled and gasped in shock as it passed through them ere it continued into Eriador. In the wide lands thither, one clad in grey clenched shut his eyes in apprehension of the sorrow it might portend. And further still, in the Uttermost West, 'cross the seas of the bent world, others yet more powerful still felt the return of their own, and whilst some rejoiced, others wondered at what this token might presage. Two of the High Ones understood; he who is most exalted upon Arda, and he unto whom final custody is given, and they traded in thought, 'cross many miles.
Not yet ripe is the time.
Nor Mortal Lands ready for the carnage to follow.
Make fast the doors to thy halls.
By thy command 'tis done…this time.
Far to the east, o'er the wide grasslands and the inland sea, amongst souls given to the worship of fire, the Nine consigned wholly to evil endured wracking spasms of pain from the assault of that ancient and pure Light that they could not long endure.
And to the East, but far closer than the citadel of the God of Fire, that same Light was felt by some who knew it from long aforetime. Familiar and welcome 'twas, yet wholly unexpected; a mystery. Five were chosen and these gathered their vassals, and they rode in haste to discover what such a token might portend.
When Helluin turned back to the battle her eyes seethed with a roiling blue flame that leapt from her sockets to crown her brow with churning sapphire. About her, for 'nigh on five fathoms in all directions, a swath of dead lay new-slain, their bodies mortally burnt and smoldering. And then with a salamander's cold turning of her head, Helluin began to search for victims; the first of those as would fall 'neath her merciless and unappeasable wrath. As in the depths of her campaign in Eriador during the War of the Elves and Sauron, she dispensed completely with all save her bloodlust. Even that one-time need to hew and mutilate the bodies of her foes for vengeance' sake was abandoned. Now 'naught ruled her save pure and simple rage, and so she began to slay all she saw about her, careless and unconcerned about howsoe'er long it should take. And when all these art fallen I shalt make next my way into the east…she thought briefly ere she lost herself in the killing.
Now when flared that blast of ancient Light, the last remaining Riders were driven off by the panic of their steeds. Shame warred with fear in their hearts as they mastered their beasts. Whether to flee a battle lost and powers far beyond their station, or to stay and succumb to senseless and certain deaths. The fell warrior of the Eldar was still well 'nigh a stranger to many of their folk, new come from a far away land, and yet she and her partner had slain many whilst fighting upon their king's behalf. Indeed now, though the smaller of the pair had fallen, the taller warrior had continued the battle with renewed and terrifying vigor. Could they do less? And yet their cavalry was worsted, and where so many had failed, wherefore could so few prevail? They were mortal Men, not like the armored warrior with her enchanted sword, or the flawless archer who could shoot 'aught that she could see. Better they should ride to find reinforcements. Better served would their folk be if they could but find Captain Ërlick and his riders, and lead them hither to rejoin the battle with all possible speed. And so they took their ways to the west, both north and south, and thence in zigzagging paths, back and forth 'cross the grasslands, e'er searching amidst the gathering gloom for the column with Captain Ërlick's pennant at the fore.
So 'twas through the deepening eve that the riders searched by ones or twos, and as Anor sank 'neath the horizon, they sought for the last Captain and the last army of their people. Ithil rose, painting the fields with silver, and the droplets of fallen rain scattered 'cross the grass, twinkled like the diamond beaches 'nigh the Bay of Eldamar, whither the Teleri had once established their Swan Haven of Alqualondë, and which Helluin had last seen flowing dark with blood.
Now 'neath Ithil the battle went on. Shadows leapt and flickered, cast by the flaring celeb a malt¹ of Helluin's incandescence. Amidst the whirlwind of the black sword of Gondolin and the gleaming mithril of the Sarchram, the Naugrim fell at a steady pace, for the unyielding determination of the Dwarves to avenge their king and the unappeasable wrath of the Noldo to avenge her beloved could not resolve in this life. ¹(celeb(silver) + a(and) + malt(gold) Sindarin)
The combat continued unbroken, for many Naugrim yet lived and Helluin was tireless in her rage. Another five hours came and went as steel clashed and Tilion crossed the heavens, and the swath of dead behind the Elvish warrior stretched back to the place of Beinvír's fall.
'Twas in that hour that the beat of approaching hooves was finally heard growing in the distance. Riders approached from the east at a full gallop, and though some of the Dwarves looked thither with hope or trepidation, Helluin cared not. Whosoe'er 'twas, in coming hence, would either aid her cause or fall.
Another ten minutes passed and another few dozens lost their lives to the black sword, Anguirél. The riders were close now and Helluin marked them. Three score only come, she thought, and so 'tis not Ërlick's company, unless some evil has befallen them. Ahhh well, it matters not. Too few art they to help or hinder what is to be. And so the ancient Noldo turned their approach from her mind and paid them no further heed.
To be Continued