In An Age Before

by Phantom Bard

Part 298 posted, in which Helluin and the Riders of Norðr-vestandóttir Bý aid the Third Marshal Haleth in Rohan's defeat of the Easterling invaders. Brutal weather, disease, and failing morale play a part. Aldburg is no sooner freed of the eastern threat when tidings come of the Dunlending's invasion from the west. OCs galore as usual.

160. In An Age Before Chapter 160

In An Age Before – Part 160

Chapter One Hundred-six

Eriador and Imladris – The Third Age of the Sun

Now in the years following the Great Plague, Helluin and Beinvír again wandered their homeland of Eriador in peace, involving themselves not in the wiles and deeds of kingdoms or kings. As had been the case oft aforetime, tidings came to them by word of mouth. Late in 1640, they learnt that King Tarondor of Gondor had moved the throne of the South Kingdom to the fortress city of Minas Anor. This they deemed wise, for that city was far more defensible than Osgiliath had been, and in Gondor's weakened state, defense was a grave concern. Thither he planted a seedling of the White Tree in the court before the citadel, and thereafter occupied himself with preserving his kingdom.

Many of the southern Dúnedain had died during the Plague, and many who had fled the cities about Anduin ne'er returned. So for lack of people, Minas Ithil was reduced and Osgiliath was increasingly abandoned, and in those early years, for lack of Men at arms, the fortresses o'erseeing Mordor were completely abandoned at last.

More years passed in Eriador, 'til in 1670 word came that King Argeleb II had given up his life at the age of one hundred and ninety-seven. He was succeeded by his son and heir Prince Arvegil, as the eleventh King of Arthedain. To the two ellith, it seemed but a short time ere they heard that King Arvegil had passed the crown to Arveleg II in 1743. He was the first king in centuries that they had ne'er met, for he had been but three years of age in late 1636 when they had last stood in Fornost.

Thereafter the years seemed to pass more swiftly. In 1798 Telumehtar was crowned the twenty-eighth King of Gondor. In his time, the coastal raiding by the Corsairs of Umbar resumed, and in 1810 he came to the end of his patience. After twelve years upon the throne, he gathered the strength of his realm and led ships and Men to war. Though the South Kingdom was still weak compared to its might ere the Plague, Umbar and the Haradrim were weaker still. In a great battle by land and sea, he took Umbar, scattered the Corsairs, and slew the last descendants of Castamir the Usurper. To commemorate his conquest, he took the title Umbardacil, Victor o'er Umbar.

Three years later, tidings came of the ascension of Araval, son of Arveleg II, as the thirteenth King of Arthedain, in 1813. By then, the successions of the Kings of Eriador and the House of Baragund were forgotten save in Celenhár and Imladris.

'Twas early evening, warm and still, as twilight gave way to full darkness in eastern Eriador. In the open rolling lands 'nigh the Great East Road that had once marked the border 'twixt the fallen realms of Rhudaur and Cardolan, a small fire burned merrily in a trench in the manner of the Laiquendi, scarcely to be seen a dozen paces away. Still, one woodscrafty would have easily marked the camp, for the scent of a roasting pheasant carried upon the gentle breeze. 'Twas 12 Gwirith, (April 12th), T.A. 1851.

The surrounding lands were for the most part empty now. The population losses inflicted during the Great Plague some 215 years aforetime had ne'er been recouped. Calenardhon, already the most sparsely populated province of Gondor, still lay largely deserted. In Eriador a third of the people had perished of the pestilence as autumn gave way to winter. Afterwards, the surviving folk of Arthedain had numbered fewer than 250,000, perhaps half of them Dúnedain, and of the newcomers, the Periannath of the Shire, the population of 30,000 lost well 'nigh 12,000. Many a small field had lain fallow the following spring.

At the campsite six figures reclined upon spread patchwork groundcloths of mixed game pelts, speaking softly as they ate, and watching the progression of the stars. Elvish folk they were, who had met in their wanderings this night by chance, yet old friends they were too. Indeed for some, 'twas an acquaintance of 'nigh on 5,300 years of the sun.

'Round the camp set by Helluin and Beinvír late that afternoon rested four Green Elves, old friends indeed. Long years ere Helluin had learnt his name, she had met Dálindir in Ossiriand, having joined the company of Maedhros and Maglor to o'ersee their treatment of the Peredhil during their flight from the Sack of Avernien. Only many years later had Helluin learnt that Dálindir was King of the Laiquendi, yet like all his people he called no one place home. Neither castle nor keep had he, but rather the whole of Eriador was his to roam in freedom, for like his people, none could stay him when they could not see him. With him still wandered Tórferedir, his general, Gérorn, a big copper-haired ellon who was the king's self-appointed bodyguard, and Celegaras, the master scout of the Green Elves. Long aforetime, when they had first met, Beinvír had been a member of that company as well.

Many were the memories they shared, yet 'twas mostly of the future that they spoke.

"'Tis said King Araval encourages his folk to settle in the lands of northern Cardolan," Tórferedir said, "yet he hath not the numbers to fill well even the lands of Arthedain."

"I deem he seeks to build a buffer 'twixt his realm and the Dunlendings," Dálindir added. He shook his head in his skepticism. To him, the need to possess territory permanently was a doomed enterprise indeed. Free access for responsible usage was all that any right-minded folk required to be happy, for had not every realm in Arda eventually fallen, only to be replaced in its turn?

"Settle it the Dúnedain may, yet holding it becomes another matter," Gérorn muttered.

"Aye," Beinvír agreed, "for even the Cardolanath could not defend it."

"And they had not the baleful spirits of the dead to contend with, or so I have heard tell," Helluin said. At the questioning looks from the four Laiquendi she added, "those few who indeed claimed homesteads there have also claimed the lands occupied by the shades of the defenders of Cardolan, worsted in battle long ago. So many art the graves hereabouts that 'tis only to be expected that the dead maintain their claim. Hard fought was their defeat and hard bought their tenancy. As dark wights they behave now."

"Ahhh yes, the tales of the dead," Dálindir mused. "I have seen many, fell of temper. Friends to none are they, bitter losers indeed."

To his words, Beinvír harkened.

"Many years we have wandered hither, yet 'naught of the shades of Men have we seen."

Here Celegaras chuckled. Beinvír looked to him with a questioning glance, prompting him for to satisfy her curiosity.

"Indeed? Thou hast seen them not? Well, 'tis scant wonder," Tórferedir said ere the scout could begin his tidings. "Surely the Mórgolodh's aura sends them to flight. Why, I wager that none have dared draw 'nigh, for those given to the shadows withstand the Light of her fëa only with great pain and jeopardy."

Beinvír nodded in agreement. Whether such creatures saw clearly Helluin's Light, or were only repulsed by it, she knew not.

"The shades of Men trouble me not…save for the accursed Nine whom I crave to destroy," Helluin remarked absently.

She was pondering Dálindir's claim of having met many ill-tempered ghosts. For the most part the Elves had ne'er known the fates of the spirits of Men after they died. Theirs was a doom apart. All that was known was that they came not to the Halls of Mandos after death, as did the Elves. Aforetime, the fate of one Man only had been declared to her. At the end of days Turambar is to champion his kind in the Dagor Dagorath. Was it possible that for some reason, the folk of Cardolan alone had been denied their rightful doom? Could it be some darker power animating their bones, or assuming their forms to cloth phantoms?

At almost the same moment, Beinvír and Celegaras cocked their heads to the east. Down the road came the softest report of hoof beats, a vibration in the earth more than a sound upon the air as yet. Some heartbeats later the others marked the approach of a rider as well. Dálindir sighed.

"I suppose we shall take our leave for a while," he said. 'Twas almost certainly not one of their own folk approaching, for the Green Elves seldom rode.

The rest of Dálindir's company nodded in agreement and the four Green Elves rose and collected their kits. With apologies to Helluin and Beinvír they took their leave, disappearing into the darkened landscape. Long ere the rider came 'nigh there was no sign or rumor of the Laiquendi.

"This had better be good," Beinvír muttered.

It had been some decades since she had last seen her king and her other friends.

Now two horses drew 'nigh with a tinkling of bells upon headstalls, one ridden, the other led. The rider stood in the stirrups, sensing others but seeing 'naught. He actually rode past the campsite ere Helluin rolled her eyes and let forth a piercing whistle. Immediately the rider snapped his head 'round and then turned back his mount.

When he came 'nigh the campsite both Helluin and Beinvír looked up at him in amazement. They had traded the company of four old friends for the company of another it seemed, one also known to them for many a year. Because a lord now shared their camp, both rose to their feet and offered a bow. The rider chuckled as he dismounted, then nodded to each of them as he walked to their fire.

"Well met, Helluin and Beinvír," he said, and he couldn't help letting his eyes linger for a telling heartbeat upon the Green Elf. In Lindon long aforetime he had first met the soulmates, and seeing Beinvír, had been immediately smitten with a hopeless love. "I rejoice that I have found you at last. Indeed I was beginning to fear I should ne'er find you, and failing my mission, become the subject of my father's displeasure."

"Lord Elladan, hail and well met," Beinvír said. "'Tis long indeed since last we met, meldir nín. Despite thy doubts, I hope thy ride has been otherwise untroubled?"

To this, the son of Elrond gave a theatrical grimace.

"Pleasant enough," he allowed, "save for the presence of many a pesky wight to the east. Defeated soldiers of Cardolan some once were, though others art of a darker sort, I deem. Now they come from their barrows to wander the downs in the dead of night, groaning and rattling and giving fright to those few of mortal blood still living in their lands. 'Tis pathetic. I was surprised at first, but have since come to find them simply annoying."

Huh, Helluin thought, so 'tis not the Green Elves only who have seen 'aught of these shades.

"Thou saw many, indeed, Lord Elladan?" Helluin asked, just to be sure. Certainly Men aplenty had fallen in the wars 'twixt Cardolan and Angmar.

"Aye, Helluin. Very many indeed," he declared. "Upon the night of Ithil's hiding¹ so many wandered the downs that 'twas like a swirling tide, or mayhaps an army reborn, save that they were as vapors or shreds of cloud; indeed wholly insubstantial. The sounds of them were heard as from a great distance; a whisper only, aye, yet ceaseless. ¹(…the night of Ithil's hiding …the night of the new moon)

Helluin nodded. She could imagine such a scene. The stupid shades of Men risen from their barrows and going hither and thither, impotent in their efforts at setting the ellon to flight, and hopeless in their compulsion to redress their long-ago defeat. For a moment she wondered that Elladan saw them as clearly as Dálindir, for he was the son of Elrond and the grandson of Galadriel, a full-blooded Amanya. Then she realized that he was a Calaquende in name only, for he had been born in the Mortal Lands, and the aura of Light from his fëa was inherited and blazed not with the brilliance of one who had lived in Aman, long, long ago. Well, huh! The ghosts fear him not, or at least not enough to shun his presence.

She returned her attention to his words, as he had continued to speak.

"…and so I have sought ye through much of Eriador, even as I did aforetime, for to deliver from my father his request for your presence and counsel in Imladris as soon as may be."

The ellith passed a glance of silent communication 'twixt them, speaking eye to eye.

Well so much for spending some time with Dálindir and his company, Beinvír carped, and 'tis likely enough that we shall see them not for another century or two.

Indeed, meldanya, and they had only arrived this afternoon…ahhh well.

And what, pray tell, could Elrond need of thee in counsel? Is he not a lore master and student of history in his own right? 'Tis not as if thy study has been of books. The Green Elf crossed her arms o'er her chest. To this, Helluin could only shrug.

"Lord Elladan, of course we shall come to thy father in his need," Helluin assured the younger Elf, "for e'er hath he been a friend and benefactor to us. If I may, what, pray tell, dost thou know of his reasons for summoning us thither?"

The young lord's brow furled and concern spread 'cross his dark and handsome features.

"'Tis the renewal of the Witch King's designs upon Arthedain, and suspicions about Rhovanion that grow from new assaults upon Gondor out of the east."

And now he marked that he had their undivided attention. Even he, son of the Lord of Imladris, felt the full weight of Helluin's stare difficult to bear.

"My father senses the gathering of an army again in Carn Dûm," he added for the sake of lessoning the tension. "He sees the assault upon the free peoples of Middle Earth gathering a cohesiveness heretofore unseen in this Age."

With no further words, Helluin doused their trench fire whilst Beinvír gathered their belongings. In a few minutes, the campsite looked as if it had ne'er been. The three friends rode away, making for the Great East Road. Ere dawn they had covered six leagues. Five days hence, the trio crossed the Ford of Bruinen and passed into the Hidden Valley. Helluin's sense of urgency had driven them, and the others had no desire to tarry. They had ridden at a trot dawn to dusk, well 'nigh 50 miles a day.

Late the next morning the peal of a clear bell rang out, carrying 'cross the green valley of Imladris. 'Twas the summoning bell for a formal council. From their room on the south side of Elrond's house, the two ellith made their way to the great east porch whereat many seats had been set. Already waiting there were Elrond, Lord of Imladris, his twin sons Elladan and Elrohir, their old friend Lord Glorfindel, Elrond's counselor Erestor, and Círdan's emissary, Galdor. Helluin and Beinvír bowed to the company and were gestured to seats. After they were settled, they waited with the others. Soon two groups of Men joined them, the first an embassy of three from Arthedain, the second a single knight of Gondor with only his squire. Unexpectedly, there was also a representative from Khazad-dûm, a Dwarf with a long beard, wearing a full suit of blackened battle armor. Upon arriving, he bowed to Lord Elrond and then swept his gaze 'cross the others, giving each a nod of acknowledgment in their turn, but stopping to regard Helluin with a look of surprise bordering on shock. She was the only Elda present who was dressed as a warrior. Then for long moments he examined the workmanship of her armor and weapons. His glance next turned to the Green Elf and a light of certain recognition grew in his eyes as they flicked back and forth 'twixt the two.

When all the seats were taken, Elrond rose and addressed the company, opening the council.

"Friends from many lands, I thank ye for journeying to share tidings and take counsel. Oft 'tis true that many together may attain greater wisdom than one alone. Now, some of your tales I have already heard, yet I deem that none have heard all there is to tell. As a group then, we should hear 'aught of what passes in your lands. Thereafter we shall take counsel together.

The days darken, my friends, and those of us who have lived through such times know that to do 'naught invites disaster. Therefore, join with us and be comforted, for others share your troubles and seek equally to stay the coming doom."

Grave words, Beinvír said silently to Helluin as their glances met, I hope 'tis but a touch of drama and things are not truly so dire.

I wager things are not so yet but shall soon become so, the warrior answered, for is not the enemy's Ring still at large? Have not his Nine been about their designs for many a year? Dol Guldur…Angmar. Again. Aye, there is trouble abrewing. T'will come to a head soon enough…in a century or two at most.

To this appraisal, Beinvír nodded in agreement.

They stopped their private conversation then, noting that Elrond had fallen silent and was eyeing them with curiosity. When their attention returned to him he continued.

"I deem it well to move 'round the circle east to west, therefore I would call first upon Galdor of Lindon to tell us 'aught of what passes 'nigh the sea."

The Sinda rose from his seat. He acknowledged Elrond's introduction with a small bow and then nodded to the others in greeting.

"To those who know me not, I am Galdor and I serve the Lord Círdan at the Havens of Mithlond. For long we have built such ships as convey our folk 'cross the sea and into the West. We build in these days somewhat more than aforetime…more so than we have since the war in Eriador in the last Age. Yet 'tis not so many really, for no great numbers seek flight from Middle Earth…as yet.

I have come hither more to hear tidings than to give them. My lord seeks to know what others have seen, for of Lindon there is little to tell."

Here he cast his gaze mostly to the Men of the South Kingdom and to the Dwarf. What passed in Eriador was known and messengers regularly came and went to Fornost and Imladris. Some tidings had come to his lord from the Lady Galadriel in Lórinand, but of Gondor and of Khazad-dûm, only rumors. Finally, he resumed his seat and gave his attention to Elrond.

"Thank you, Galdor," the Lord of Imladris said, and then turning to the messengers from Arthedain, bid them speak.

At a nod from his companions, the eldest of the three Men rose. Grey-haired he was, but still he stood tall, and he had retained much of the vigor of his manhood well into his old age, as did the pure-blooded Dúnedain. When he spoke, his voice was steady and carried well with but little effort.

"Calmar is my name and I come from the court at Fornost in embassy from King Araval of Arthedain. Dark art the tidings I bear.

This winter past was harsh in the north. Bitter cold came the winds off the Bay of Forochel. Heavy were the snowfalls so that few went abroad, and only then at great need. Indeed only in the fortnight past have the last drifts melted from the northern downs. 'Twas good fortune for us, for it eased our coming hither.

'Twas towards the end of Gwaeron that a few hunters ventured forth in hopes of staving off their hunger, for their stores had run dangerously low. Little game did they find and they ranged further north than prudence counseled. So at last they came to the plain that stretches north to the precincts of Carn Dûm, and thither they found the lands occupied by evil Men. Though they came not so far as the city proper, the outlying ruins they'd expected to find had been rebuilt. They marked the hostility of those they met, and one remark in particular they recalled. A Man they swore was an Easterling claimed they would perish, not from the winter's cold, but rather from the summer's fire."

The Man looked round the circle of the council, his sea-grey eyes showing a hint of his anger, and when he continued his voice dropped in volume, but his tone was hot with wrath.

"A fell prophecy indeed, yet it proved untrue. Surely this black-heart, or one of his ilk, spoke of the hunters to other ears less…human.

They were attacked in their camp that very night. Attacked by a company of Yrch many times their count! One only escaped and he sorely wounded. In horror he fled, leaving behind his stricken brethren, of whose fate we who know the ways of the Witch King's servants have few doubts. The hunters became the hunted, and rather than finding game, became the meat for those devils' cook-pots. Now my king fears that Angmar is renewed and soon enough war shall come."

He retook his seat with gritted teeth and clenched fists, and all could feel the waves of seething hatred washing off of him. Others nodded in agreement. The north would no doubt see renewed conflict with their hated enemy, the Witch King. 'Twas the knight of Gondor who spoke next, and though sympathetic, he was hardly impressed.

"Friends of Gondor, my name is Beragil and I call Minas Anor home. I serve King Narmacil II upon land and sea." At a few looks of surprise, he added, "aye, King Narmacil II took the throne this winter past upon the death of his father, King Telumehtar Umbardacil, victor o'er the Corsairs of Umbar."

Dark-haired and tall, with quick eyes and a native vitality, but governed by military discipline and long years of training, Beragil heaved a sigh. The late king had been admired for his victories in the south 40 years aforetime, when he had driven out their hereditary enemies who had retaken the southern province in 1634. Gondor had lost the ancient port city of Umbar, and then two years later the Plague had struck. Many had perished, including the royal family, and the White Tree in Osgiliath had withered with them. Four years later, Osgiliath had been abandoned as their capital and the throne moved to the western fortress of Minas Anor. A seedling of the White Tree had been planted and grew now in the court of the king, but all in all, 'twas a sign of the times, and those times had seen the diminution of the kingdom of Isildur and Anárion. It had taken Gondor o'er 200 years to reclaim their province of Umbar. And now more trouble was abrewing. No sooner had they pacified the south than new enemies threatened from the east.

"Many ills have befallen our people in the last 215 years, and of these things I am sure ye have heard tell. Yet 'tis the future that now concerns my king. Our great city of Osgiliath upon Anduin falls into ruin for lack of people to fill its houses. No longer could we man the forts in the Black Land to keep watch o'er the domain of our ancient Enemy. Minas Ithil too holds far fewer than it could. Though defeated for a time, the Corsairs of Umbar gather their strength and plot against us from beyond Umbar's walls. And from the east we hear reports of gathering forces.

Word has come from our allies in Rhovanion telling of foes who attack swiftly from chariots. They fight with the bow and the javelin, and they o'errun any opposition afoot. Already they have driven the North Men from beyond Carnen, and they have taken the thither shores of the Sea of Rhûn. Dorwinion shall soon fall, we fear, and flat art the lands that lie 'twixt it and Greenwood…perfect terrain for mounted forces.

Reports speak of uncounted hordes of these foes, and the Men of the Plains flee before them, calling them Wainriders, for their people travel in great wagons, e'er moving, and settling only so long as they must to despoil conquered lands. Some fell need drives them e'er west t'would seem. More territory falls, yet victory satisfies them not. As do our brothers in the north, we too expect battle in this coming year.

If 'tis aid thou seek from Gondor, I fear t'will be beyond us to muster for some time. Many miles stretch along our borders from Dunland to Mordor, and from Rhovanion to Umbar. All must be guarded, and like ye, we too have ne'er recovered our numbers from the Plague."

The knight retook his seat with an air of finality, his arms crossed upon his chest whilst his stern eyes rove o'er the other guests as if expecting to be gainsaid.

The Man's manner struck Helluin as o'erly stiff. He is likely a well-trained and loyal soldier, but not an inspiring commander or an innovative leader, she judged. By his body language and bearing, she sensed that his love was given to order o'er initiative, and to convention o'er creativity. Pray keep him in the ranks, she thought to herself, ten thousand such can make a fine army, but an army needs one better than he to lead. I hope King Narmacil II has some good captains for his upcoming war.

Now having heard from the Men of the North and South Kingdoms, Elrond cast his glance to the Dwarf.

"Dalâl¹ son of Thakâl², First Lieutenant of the Third Black Company of Khazad-dûm. Welcome. Speak now thy tidings, I pray thee," Elrond said. ¹(Dalâl, Dreamer Neo-Khuzdul) ²(Thakâl, Miner Neo-Khuzdul)

The doughty warrior rose and bowed to his host, then turned and nodded to the others, displaying courtesy in the manner of his people.

"Friends and allies of old," he began, "long it hath been since our peoples went down to the Black Land together and worsted the armies of the Dark Lord. In the passing years since then we have enjoyed lessened contact, for the great evil of that time was vanquished. Yet 'twas not destroyed. Now new evils grow apace. Now it seems our enemies threaten far-flung lands with a growing darkness. Could there be more than ill fortune in the timing of these threats? My lord feels 'tis just so.

Such is our concern that of late some counsel we have shared with the Lady of Lórinand, for that land lies upon our doorstep. 'Cross the river in the Greenwood 'tis said, the ghost of a Shadow wavers."

At the looks of horror on the faces of the Elves, he quickly spread his hands in a placating gesture to reassure them.

"Nay, no presence lives as yet in Dol Guldur. No armies of Yrch gather 'neath the trees at its command. Still, my king and the Lady of the Golden Wood feel 'tis but a matter of time ere that dark power grows again. These words my king bid me say:

Slowly the world darkens, and in my halls, I feel a deep foreboding. Both houses of the Kings of Men art diminished. Arnor is replaced by Arthedain, with half the land and a tenth part of the people of Elendil's time. Gondor has suffered civil war and the direct line of Anárion is broken, for now the scion of a nephew's house of mixed blood rules in Minas Anor. To all the western lands came a deadly Plague that slew more than any war. Out of the north came an enemy bearing a Ring. Evil joins to evil. It grows as if a will directs it from 'cross the gulf of years. And who is to say 'tis not driven by that self-same evil we fought aforetime, ancient and potent, and growing more fell with each passing decade? The One Ring was lost long ago, but 'twas not destroyed. Attack may come from any quarter, but I bid ye look to the Black Land.

This is the message of my king, and his fear, for he hath seen its like aforetime."

Here the Dwarf cast Helluin a meaningful glance and her own eyes widened a fraction as understanding came to her. She realized that she had not visited Khazad-dûm in a long, long time; too long perhaps. In the silence, she heard the call of a warbler somewhere on the grounds. Unable to dismiss Dalâl's comments, she asked the first question of the council.

"Noble warrior, who sits now upon the ancient throne of Durin?"

And with a broad smile the Dwarf answered, "an old friend who knew thee aforetime, Helluin, explorer of the Host of Finwë, for once thou offered him the friendship of a realm long fallen into dust. 'Tis Durin who rules his realm yet again, and he the sixth of that name. Oft he hath asked concerning thee and thy beloved. And yes, he still treasures the moonstone of Celebrimbor that thou brought at thy first embassy from Eregion."

"By the Valar," she whispered softly, whilst in the background the Men of Arthedain and Gondor muttered in amazement. The meeting of which he spoke was a page of history that had long ago passed into legend, a tale of dimly remembered times in another Age, now 'nigh on 4,300 years ago.

The first Durin that Helluin had met was Durin III, and that was in S.A. 992 when she had brokered the pact of friendship and trade 'twixt the Elvish realm of Eregion that Men call Hollin, and Khazad-dûm. The last Durin she had known was Durin IV, in the time of the War of the Last Alliance.

In S.A. 3410, Helluin and Beinvír had traveled to Khazad-dûm to meet with Durin IV. They had sought to discover if he was under the dominion of the Ring that Celebrimbor had gifted to his predecessor ere the Elven smith met his doom in the War of the Elves and Sauron. They had found Durin IV free of any dark influence, noble and gracious, but more astonishing, identical to the earlier ruler of that name. Indeed he had recognized Helluin and recalled all that had gone before. Unlike the Kings of Men who took again as tribute a forefather's name, within the succession of Durin's line the same spirit truly lived again.

But now 1,880 years had passed. Only once in that time had the two ellith passed the Ennyn Durin, when they had come to the House of Gneiss shopping for a royal wedding gift. The current incarnation was the sixth and they had missed entirely the reign of Durin V. Now the One Ring was lost, and though the Nine were still potent enemies, the threat of Durin's Ring was diminished, just as was the threat to those who wore the Three. What might the King of Hadhodrond achieve with its powers liberated? She longed to ask. Yet such was not a topic to be addressed in an open council. Helluin resolved to speak in private with the messenger from Khazad-dûm.

"You must visit our realm when time allows," the Dwarf said, "for both of ye art reckoned friends and allies of old…indeed as counselors as well, and my lord greatly desires speech with you. Something disquiets him and he foresees a shadow dimming our prosperity in the years to come. T'would be well…"

With a dip of her head Helluin replied ere he revealed too much, "we shall be honored to come and offer our friend such aid as we can, as time allows."

The Dwarf nodded in acceptance of her words, and then turned back to Elrond and bowed ere he took his seat.

Now the Lord of Imladris rose and spoke gravely.

"My friends, we have heard tidings of threats soon to come, north and south. From Khazad-dûm we have been warned that these threats may be connected through the will of the Dark Lord, defeated long ago, but not destroyed. Indeed 'tis as the Elves have believed for many years. And now 'tis our part to marshal our strength to oppose that will.

From the testimony of all we know that Arthedain is most threatened. Should the Witch King come again against Fornost, they shalt be least able to resist. I deem such aid as we can offer should be given thither, for Gondor is stronger and more able to stand against its enemies. Should war come to the north, then as aforetime I shall bring a company to the aid of King Araval."

At his words, grim but thankful smiles graced the faces of the Men of Arthedain and Calmar dipped his head to Elrond. 'Twas as much as he had hoped for. The others added their agreement with the Peredhel's plan. Yet the Lord of Imladris was not finished.

"Helluin, Beinvír, and Dalâl …allow me a word in private, I pray thee."

All three nodded in acceptance, for they each had much to say to the others.

Now when the council adjourned for that day and the guests went to the great hall seeking their repast, Elrond sat behind the desk in his study with Helluin, Beinvír, and Dalâl seated before him. Some wine and seeded cakes he had provided as refreshments. When all had sipped of the wine, he began formally, for even as the Fading Days of the Elves quickened in the Third Age, begging a favor of a commoner still felt odd to him, and yet this was no ordinary commoner.

"Helluin, I know thou hast ne'er acknowledged me as more than a friend and the lord of this small realm, and such is right, for I am not a King of the Noldor. I was Regent of Eriador and Herald to our late High King Ereinion. I was ne'er his successor. The line of Fingolfin has no heir in these Mortal Lands, and yet I have 'aught to ask of thee. As a friend then, I would request thy aid at arms in Eriador."

"My Lord Elrond," Helluin replied just as formally, "as a friend I have always regarded thee, and more, for upon a time thou was't the savior of my beloved. Too, art thou not the son of Eärendil the Blessed, and he the son of Tuor and Idril Celebrindal, daughter of my late lord, King Turgon of Gondolin? After the Hidden City's fall I guarded thy grandparents and thy parents in their turn, and after the Sack of Avernien I guarded thee and thy brother Elros for a time…a short time."

She paused a moment recalling those days at the end of the First Age so long ago. From the contemplative expression on the Peredhel's face, she knew that he too recalled his flight through Ossiriand as a captive of Maedhros and Maglor. Helluin had both avowed her alliance with Elrond and reestablished her independence as his elder. She had been 4,515 years of age in the year that Avernien fell…when he had been but a youth. Helluin would ne'er serve Elrond as a vassal. She was too much his elder, yes, but more importantly, she had lived for o'er 3,500 years in the Blessed Realm of Aman, whilst he had been born in Beleriand. She was a true Calaquende, and though of royal birth and numbered amongst the Noldor, he was not.

"To come to the aid of Arthedain has been my intention since learning of the return of the threat of Angmar," Helluin continued just as gravely. "I know thou hast not forgotten thy lore. Arthedain is the remnant of the realm of Elendil, and my blood flows in his line as does thine own, down from Almarian, the daughter I bore to Captain Vëantur in S.A.661. I too shall do my part to safeguard the heirs of my blood."

Elrond dipped his head in thanks. Though Helluin could claim no noble blood, her aid in battle had e'er been invaluable to him. She was feared by every enemy, the Men, Yrch, and Nazgûl who served the Dark Lord. By all accounts, even Sauron knew and hated her, and so far he had failed to slay, take, or enslave, her. More than once she had challenged him. More than once she had struck blows against him and escaped.

"Gratefully do I receive thy aid, Helluin," he said, "especially against the Nazgûl."

"Petty, simpering shadows; thralls of a thrall," she muttered through gritted teeth, "The Witch King, bah; I slew him once and I shall slay him again should fortune allow."

Beside her, Beinvír chuckled. Of all those upon Middle Earth, only her beloved had bested Tindomul twice with a sword as a living Man. Since becoming a Ringwraith he had thrice fled her in battle. Whilst some others of the Noldor, Lord Glorfindel for one, could stand against such creatures without fear, none displayed Helluin's open contempt.

Through all their talk, Dalâl had made no comment, but rather he had sat and listened carefully. At Helluin's declaration of her intent to march to war in Eriador he gave a soft sigh. His hopes now rested solely upon the Green Elf, for his lord had a graver need of counsel than he had spoken of aforetime. When the silence had stretched long enough that he understood that the earlier business had concluded, he rose to address them.

"My lord," he said, bowing to Elrond, and then turning to the two ellith "and noble warriors, I spoke not all of my lord's concerns in the council. Some things art best heard only by such ears as have the lore to understand them, and oft art such words best guarded that such lore remains known only to a few. I speak of 'aught that the Elves have long known, but that Men have likely long forgotten. My lord's business concerns the craft of Celebrimbor."

At the second mention of her old friend within an hour, Helluin sat straight up at attention and Elrond leaned forward 'cross his desk. Beinvír sucked in a quick breath and fixed her eyes too upon the Dwarf. Though many would have quailed 'neath such an examination, Dalâl shrank not from their keen gaze, but met their eyes evenly. This told the three Elves that if 'naught else, the lieutenant of Khazad-dûm had no intent to deceive them. Whate'er his tidings, he believed them true. After some moments, he resumed.

"Long ago, in the days of Ost-in-Edhil, Khazad-dûm shared friendship with Eregion. Great works were done in both realms and great aid was had and given. Yet in one thing was mastery attained by Lord Celebrimbor alone. 'Twas the making of enchanted Rings. The story is known amongst some of our folk still, for though we live not fore'er as do the Elves, passing from Age to Age, still we have much lore and art blessed by Mahal with a span greater than Men…and the memory of my people is long. So, 'tis recalled by our king, both from lore and from memory, that the Ring he wears is indeed one of the Seven."

For some time, the Dwarf remained silent whilst the Elves harkened to him.

"'Tis remembered by fewer still amongst our folk that Durin's Ring came of the smith himself," he said, "upon a journey through our realm as he made his way to Lórinand ere the war. The Enemy ne'er touched it, and yet His thought and desire is e'er bent upon it."

To this the three Elves nodded. Celebrimbor had gone to Lórinand to give custody of Nenya to Galadriel. All of them had previously seen the Seven and the Nine in Celebrimbor's possession in Lindon ere the War of the Elves and Sauron. Helluin and Beinvír had seen the Ring of Khazad-dûm again when they'd gone to confirm its effects upon Durin IV, just ere the War of the Last Alliance. They had been suspicious then. With times as they were now, the current topic renewed their suspicions.

"'Tis said the Seven conferred influence in building wealth and mastering skills," Dalâl told them, "yet our lord is content in both fields. Durin VI is rich beyond calculation and many are the great houses of Khazad-dûm that could finance a kingdom of their own. Our lord inspires and governs his folk with little effort, for he hath done so five times already and his name is revered. And so 'tis that Celebrimbor's Ring has not been called upon for aid and its enchantment sleeps…or so we had e'er thought."

The Elves were visibly alarmed by this statement. Elrond began tapping his fingers upon his desk blotter whilst a subtly glow emanated from Helluin. Beinvír looked quickly back and forth 'twixt the two. Her mouth was suddenly dry and she could feel her heartbeat speed, and then discovered that she'd begun nervously tapping her foot. She tried to swallow and forced herself to still.

"Aye," Dalâl said, "we were wrong. Upon Durin VI's hand, the Ring has turned itself to new enchantments. Feelings unexplained now come to my lord unbidden. Some century and ten years past he felt the presence of a deposit of silver 'neath a new hall, and upon excavating thither the vein was found. Yet more troublesome hints of things still veiled he hath endured. 'Tis some nameless threat from the deeps of the mountains that hints at days of strife to come, yet what that should be and when, he know'th not. Perhaps 'tis some new strength of the Yrch abuilding. Perhaps 'tis a warren of Tor at the roots of Barazinbar or Zirakzigil. 'Tis only a shadow of ill fortune perhaps. Still these thoughts have come and gone upon the borders of his mind for some years now, and with each year that passes he hath learnt no more. Now 'tis his hope that counsel can come to Khazad-dûm to aid him in understanding."

Dalâl's words gave them a measure of relief but no real peace of mind. 'Twas no way to know whether the nameless fear that troubled the Lord of Khazad-dûm dwelt within his kingdom or beyond it. T'would be comfortable to think it 'naught but the ghost of the troubles threatening Arthedain and Gondor. And yet all too oft had the Elves seen evil followed by evil, and if indeed the threats of the current enemies were but part of a larger plan, then 'twas well 'nigh certain that yet more lay hidden. 'Twas the fear of Sauron plaguing them again, if by 'naught else than through their doubts.

For many long moments the three Eldar sat silent, each contemplating their courses for the future. Little good would it do to win a victory in Eriador, only to find the strength of Hadhodrond subverted by the Dark Lord and arrayed against them at their backs. Yet Angmar was the most immediate and visible threat and demanded a strong response. For Elrond there was scant choice to make. Command of the forces of Imladris was his. And Helluin had already declared her intention to go thither to war. 'Twas only Beinvír's path that lacked declaration. Though it had been implicit 'til now that she would accompany Helluin to Arthedain, another errand begged her presence.

"Whilst thou campaign in Arthedain, I shall go to Khazad-dûm for to offer counsel to thy old friend, King Durin," the Green Elf declared, "and afterwards to Lórinand I shall go, for tidings and to join any added deployment west if need be."

The dark Noldo bit her tongue ere her words of protest could win release. To be separated from her beloved was a prospect she detested, especially in time of war. Yet even she could see that this course was fitting. And into less danger would the Green Elf be heading than were she to accompany Helluin to war in Eriador, for she would travel by way of Hollin, a land long guarded by her people, and enter by the west door. She would leave by way of Azanulbizar, and the verges of the Golden Wood lay but a long day's march east. Indeed less jeopardy would she be subject to than when she had gone alone to Linhir in the days of the Kin-Strife of Gondor. 'Twas 18 Gwirith, 1851.

To Be Continued