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.

170. In An Age Before Chapter 170

In An Age Before – Part 170

Chapter One Hundred-twelve

The Hithaeglir – The Third Age of the Sun

In the deep places 'neath the Misty Mountains, e'erlasting darkness had reigned since the dreaming of Arda in the First Song. There were caves and caverns, rivers and lakes to which the light of Varda's first stars and the later sun and moon had ne'er come. In those places, only two races of mortals had e'er made their homes, the Naugrim, and the Yrch.

'Twixt the mansions of the Dwarves and the warrens of the Glamhoth, the differences were greater than the similarities. The Gonnhirrim delved deep and wide, and they had as much pride in the realms they created as they had in the marvelous crafts they wrought in metals, wood, crystal, and stone. And they had esteemed light from the very start, when Durin the Deathless had looked into the Mirrormere and seen a crown of stars. Lamp making was an esteemed art form, just as 'twas amongst the Elves. The glow reflected from precious metals and the sparkle of jewels brought joy to the hearts of the Naugrim, and the more so when it came from the work of their hands. With great effort, they bored shafts to the surface to brighten their deep chambers, and windows that opened onto inaccessible mountain scarps and precipices to bring the light of Anor into their mansions. By contrast, the warrens of the Yrch were dark, for they had no love of light.

The greatest realms of the Glamhoth, 'neath Mts. Gundabad and Gram, were dark and filthy mazes of tunnels and rooms, crudely hewn from the rock o'er many centuries with as minimal an effort as possible. No energy at all was spent in the pursuits of beautification, of housekeeping, or even of organization, for the Yrch took no pride in their surroundings, nor 'aught that they were required to make. They excavated with no o'erall plan, and would only grudgingly apply their labor when 'twas required to access some new opportunity for plunder, the taking of captives, or the passage of their arms. Light held no sentimental value, for they hated it, favoring the darkness to which they were well adapted. No lamps did they make, nor shafts did they dig. A few torches and the fires for cooking were all they were willing to tolerate. It seemed that only in battle did they take delight in fire. This was as true in the great warrens as in the many smaller outposts that they had dug o'er the long years and located 'nigh the mountain passes and the trade routes on the surface, for in those places, the possibilities for mischief were the greatest.

To say that no love was lost 'twixt the Gonnhirrim and the Yrch would have been an understatement of the greatest magnitude. Through Ages of the world, these kindreds had contested with the bitterest enmity. It had begun ere the First Age, when Melkor's orcs had harried the Firebeards and the Broadbeams of the Ered Luin 'neath the stars. In reaction to those early assaults, the Naugrim of Belegost and Nogrod had become the greatest weapon smiths of Beleriand. The famed blades Narsil and Angrist, and the Dragon Helm were forged in Nogrod by Telchar, a student of Gamil Zirak. In emulation of that craft tradition, the Sinda Eöl had forged Anglachél and Anguirél, and created the black alloy, galvorn.

The Gonnhirrim of Beleriand had fought the Yrch all through the First Age 'til the War of Wrath, when Morgoth was o'erthrown, his slaves slain or scattered, and Beleriand was inundated 'neath Belegaer. Following the earthquakes that had accompanied that cataclysm, Belegost and Nogrod were for the most part abandoned and their survivors migrated to Khazad-dûm where they joined the Longbeards, the people of Durin. The newcomers from the Blue Mountains had found their own hatred of the Yrch alive and well in the Hithaeglir, where less remembered battles had raged since the Age of the Trees. There, through the Second and Third Ages, they continued to fight Morgoth's lieutenant, Sauron, and his legions of Yrch. Of singular note was the occupation of Mt. Gundabad, where Durin the Deathless had first awakened. It had changed hands twice in the Second Age, taken by the Yrch soon after the Fall of Eregion, and then recovered after the War of the Last Alliance. 'Twas lost again when Angmar arose and the Witch King would not accept a stronghold of the Naugrim at his back. Its callous desecration and ruination during the occupations by the Yrch made every Dwarf seethe.

In 1851, soldiers of Khazad-dûm had aided the Laiquendi of Eriador in repulsing a host of Yrch who had come o'er the Caradhras Pass, bound for the attack on Fornost. Of the three thousands who had marched from their warrens 'nigh the pass and to the north, fewer than three hundreds survived to withdraw east into Nanduhirion, where they were met with the wrath of Beinvír Laiquende, and the immense disappointment and displeasure of the Lieutenant of the Nazgûl, Khamûl, the Black Easterling. Yet the Ringwraith had found that not all was lost. Fate had delivered a most valuable prisoner into his hands that day. Beinvír had managed to slay a score and ten of the returning Yrch during her defense of a party of traders from Khazad-dûm. Khamûl had retained the services of two dozens to guard his prisoner, and then he had slain the rest, for they had dared to return defeated. Discipline was important, and he hoped that his example would teach them. With his prisoner, he then vanished from Nanduhirion.

'Twas now 11 Cerveth, (July 11th), of T.A. 1902, and for the past half-century, a terror had been growing in the central Hithaeglir. In those days, when soldiers from the Black Companies of Khazad-dûm were dispatched to embattle known strongholds of Yrch that had been established too close to the surface mines, the trade roads, or the mountain passes, oft as not they would find they had arrived too late. As they came 'nigh, they would see vultures circling o'erhead. Before the dark maw of some tunnel entrance, they would find Orc heads impaled on their own spears and left to rot. Now they no longer entered, for the stench that roiled hence was a torment that none would abide. All those within had been slain and left there, dead for many days. For the past five decades, the Dwarves had seen it o'er and o'er.

Only once in all those years had the soldiers of Khazad-dûm come upon a survivor. The Orch had been sword cut and partially eviscerated. Delirious from blood loss and thirst, he was willing to say 'aught in exchange for a swifter passage from his suffering.

"Ghâsh gijak-ishi¹," he had gasped, ere his eyes rolled up and glazed in death. ¹(Ghâsh gijak-ishi, Fire in the blood Orkish)

The words were reported when the soldiers returned, and they passed up the chain of command 'til they came to the ears of Durin VI. Having been a foe of the Yrch for 'nigh on ten thousand years, he understood what the Orch had said.

"Ghâsh gijak-ishi, translates as 'Fire in the blood'. 'Tis akin to the traditional saying, Ang gijak-ishi, 'Iron in the blood', a high compliment to a warrior amongst the Yrch," Durin told his close confidant, Uzrak Tulkh.

The head of the House of Gneiss nodded, but the words brought neither of them any real enlightenment. Perhaps a new chieftain had arisen. Perhaps there was some power play or other dispute 'twixt tribes of the treacherous creatures. A civil war would not have been unwelcome, and all knew that the Yrch would gladly stab each other's backs for any gain.

At that same time, within a nameless cave in the east face of the Hithaeglir 'nigh the source of the River Ninglor, a petty captain was furious at the disappearance of five of his soldiers, whom he assumed had deserted. In truth, he didn't miss them, treacherous scum that they were, but one was a scout and another their only sniffer. He needed both, at least 'til they could be replaced with troops more easily cowed.

His was a small company of 'round seventy, that had splintered off of a larger warren further north. Indeed, he and all his troops were deserters. Still, prey on the High Pass that led down to Rivendell had grown scarce, and a mutiny in his prior home was just a matter of time. There had been much grumbling, aside from the usual self-serving machinations. A word here and a word there had led to a mass defection of soldiers, and being the largest and most brutal amongst them, he had ascended to the captaincy. Yet now he faced the very same predicament that had led to his company's desertion. Their prospects for sport or plunder had grown well 'nigh nonexistent, and he had marked the grumbling. Now he deemed that the worms had started to defect. Not wishing to wake up with a dagger in his belly, he knew he needed to keep the worst of his troublemakers busy.

"Kurrhund, Dofna-ar, Undurkok¹, get over here, gajarpani²" he ordered three of the most untrustworthy. ¹(Kurrhund, Snot nose Dofna-ar, Numb nuts Undurkok, Fat head Perhaps not their real names. Orkish) ²(gajarpani, snakes Orkish)

The three slunk o'er muttering curses, which he was in no mood to challenge them on right then. Instead, he stared them down whilst fondling the hilt of his sword. When they finally looked away, he demanded, "go find girmus and that sniffling shurr, skai!¹" ¹(girmus, scout shurr, piss Probably not their real names. Skai!(an untranslatable interjection of contempt) Orkish)

He watched as they snatched a torch and ambled off into a tunnel leading down. Either they would find the deserters and probably join them, or lead them back after administering a beating. Or perhaps they would fall into a pit and die there, for all he cared. One could hope. At least they wouldn't be inciting the rest of his crew with idle gossip or talk of rebellion.

Now the three took the tunnel that led to the deepest parts of their cave, there to escape any duty and the possible wrath of their o'erbearing and e'er less esteemed captain. They were slackers and malcontents, even by the standards of Yrch, but they knew the full extent of their home. In the deepest part of the cave lay a smallish chamber, which, for lack of prisoners and therefore any need of a dungeon, had become a retreat, a clubhouse of sorts where they could relax unsupervised. All three of them expected to meet their fellow 'deserters' there. They would spend a duty shift trading gossip, venting curses, and making plans.

Kurrhund, Dofna-ar, and Undurkok had come perhaps a quarter-mile o'er the course of a lazy fifteen minutes, when rounding a corner, Dofna-ar who carried the torch tripped and fell flat on his face. Undurkok tripped o'er him and fell square onto their only source of light, plunging the three of them into total darkness. Predictably, curses and accusations followed.

"Get up, clumsy maggot," Kurrhund spat, "kopak kamab, bagal thu¹." ¹(kopak kamab, bagal thu, club foot, dung brain Orkish)

"Kurv blog!¹ Something tripped me," Dofna-ar claimed. ¹(kurv blog, whore blood Orkish)

Kurrhund growled and kicked at where his voice had come from. "Get the torch!"

With a yelp, Undurkok grabbed something lying 'neath him on the floor and handed it to Kurrhund. Dofna-ar also handed him something off the floor.

"Sha! Marri!¹We have two torches now?" ¹(Sha! Untranslatable interjection of contempt. Marri! lit. transl. Stupids vern. transl. Morons Orkish)

As Dofna-ar and Undurkok clambered to their feet, Kurrhund struck a hunk of flint against the blade of his dagger, throwing sparks that forced them all to squint. The torch in his hand wouldn't catch, so he exchanged it with the one he'd held 'neath his arm. Finally, after a handful of tries, the wrapping on the torch caught fire, shedding a smoky, orange light.

"Kurvan!¹" Undurkok shrieked. He was pointing at the torch 'neath Kurrhund's arm, the one that wouldn't light. ¹(kurvan, copulate Orkish)

They all looked. 'Twas a severed arm, and they recognized it from the tunic sleeve and the bracer on the forearm as having belonged to Shurr, the sniffer. Kurrhund flung it aside, trying hard to stifle his shock and appear unafraid. Then he held the torch up and they looked down the tunnel ahead and saw 'twas littered with body parts, enough for their five missing comrades. They had been dismembered with a sword. There was writing in blood on the wall. Kurrhund illuminated it with the torch held 'nigh, and in its wavering light they read the word, Vrasulûk!¹ ¹(Vrasulûk! Kill them all! Orkish)

As one they turned and peered into the darkness of the tunnel, and from that darkness came the whine of something flying, and sparks as it ricocheted from wall to wall. Then, ere they could duck, scream, or fling themselves out of the way, the Sarchram struck Dofna-ar in the face, changed direction to bounce off a wall and slit Undurkok's throat, and finally embedded itself in Kurrhund's chest.

Out of the darkness came a tall figure in black armor, bearing a long, black-bladed sword. At first they thought 'twas Khamûl, come amongst them to exact restitution for their desertion, but the Ringwraith had ne'er projected Light, only fear. The figure came 'nigh and knelt to retrieve the ring blade from 'twixt Kurrhund's ribs. Blue fire flickered in blue eyes.

"Vrasulûk," it said. "Beltho huiniath! Naur min e-nsereg¹." ¹(Naur min e-nsereg, fire in the blood. Sindarin)

By sundown, it seemed to the captain, that three more of his company had deserted, or perhaps fallen into a pit and died there. Nor had the five he'd sent them to find e'er reappeared. Despite being enraged, he was also worried. Food was getting scarce and soon, others would disappear…into the stewpot.

On 12 Cerveth he sent out another three, and they too had not returned. The total missing had risen to eleven. He was now fairly sure that not only did he have a mass desertion on his hands, but also an undiscovered 'backdoor'. Either his maggots had carelessly missed a side tunnel, or unknown parties had tunneled in. That would certainly be the Naugrim, for no others were engineers of the deep places, and the prowess of the Shakutarbikri¹in mining had been known since time immemorial. Still, they were a long way from Khazad-dûm. ¹(Shakutarbikri, Dwarves Orkish)

Now the captain took counsel with himself as he was wont to do, and he thought himself wise to send out his morons in larger parties, so that in each group, some who remained loyal might inform on those given to flight. And so on 13 Cerveth he sent forth the bulk of his company in groups of eight, being careful to include in each group some as seemed more inclined to be devoted. He ordered them to search every inch of their lair, lest invading Dwarves slay them all in their sleep. He retained but six of his most cowed, and therefore his most loyal, as a bodyguard.

Those sent forth in the search parties chuckled once they were out of earshot, and they decided amongst themselves that those now missing had deserted. 'Twas simple, predictable, and understandable. 'Twas also far more likely than a secret tunnel in their lair, or an invasion by the Dwarves. They had heard no battle cries. They had seen no fighting. And so they resolved to do as little as possible whilst out of their captain's sight, and to then return with 'naught to report.

Alas, events failed to unfold according to their well-laid plan. So long as they remained in the oft-frequented upper tunnels and rooms, it seemed they would have 'naught to report. All was as it had e'er been. No hidden passages or armies of invading Dwarves did they discover. With each space deemed safe, the Yrch became more convinced of their captain's paranoia. The seven parties of eight spent a leisurely day ambling through their lair, lounging, bickering, complaining, and weighing the possibility of deserting with increasing fondness. 'Twas unsupervised time that their captain had gifted them, and they made the most of it.

As the day of the 13th came to its end, each of the groups came to the decision to pass the night in the chamber at the bottom of their lair. Being as simple minds find simple solutions, and being as all of them were equally simple, party by party they descended through the tunnels. Eventually each party came to a turn in the tunnel, and there amidst the growing stench of decomposition they discovered their missing companions, hewn and slaughtered. Then, whilst that shock still lay heavy upon them, out of the darkness that lay ahead they were assailed and slain in their turn, and their counts added to a careful tally. So it came to pass that ere sunrise of 14 Cerveth, the captain and his half-dozen bodyguards were the only surviving Yrch in their den.

Morning came with the scant sunlight cast from the cave mouth down the entrance tunnel. The captain and his last soldiers had just finished a depressing breakfast of moldy bread and a few scraps of meat from some of the rodents that shared their home. 'Twas the time of the captain's daily 'planning session', but these past few days, that time had been given to ruminating on his increasing suspicions of disloyalty, and now, his certainty of a mass desertion. None of his search parties had returned, yet none had passed the main chamber, nor taken the entrance tunnel to the surface. 'Twas obvious to him that a second entrance led to and from their lair, and his miserable, untrustworthy troops had discovered it and hidden it from him. Perhaps they had known it long and dissembled, concealing their knowledge in his presence, and he had ne'er suspected. With well 'nigh each moment that passed, his mood grew darker.

"Kurvan! Bagal!" He couldn't stop the curses that didn't help a bit in calming his rage at being so betrayed. "Vesall shatarpiz, ashdautas vrasulûk¹," he muttered. ¹(Vesall shatarpiz, ashdautas vrasulûk, Miserable lizards, one day kill them all Orkish)

"Nar udautas¹," came a mocking voice from the tunnel leading down. ¹(nar udautas, not today Orkish)

The captain and his bodyguards whipped 'round towards the voice. Darkness filled the tunnel and they could mark none. 'Twas not a voice they recognized, not one of their missing company, for rather than harsh and cruel, 'twas soft, musical, and yet as threatening and cruel as the voice of any Orch. As a group, they dared approach.

Now there strode from the tunnel into their midst a tall figure draped in a tattered black cloak, and bearing a black sword unsheathed. No features could they mark 'neath its deep hood, yet this one they all knew. Every servant of Sauron, no matter how insincere or resentful at heart, could recognize one of his Úlairi, whether they had e'er seen one aforetime or not. They were unmistakable.

As the bodyguards went to kneel before the Nazgûl, it spun into motion, too fast for a living thing, and with the black sword, it hewed off their heads leaving only the captain trembling on his knees amidst the corpses.

"Stand," it commanded, and he rose hesitantly to his feet, keeping his eyes downcast.

The wraith slowly paced in circles 'round him, once, twice, and as his terror grew, began to circle a third time. Rather than even a low chuckle signifying its glee at his torment, 'twas completely silent. Then the sword whistled behind him, hamstringing him so that he collapsed forward. He would ne'er stand or walk again. He screamed in pain and fear. The wraith rolled him onto his back with a booted foot.

Then as it stood o'er him, it pulled back its hood and doffed its cloak, and lo, 'twas no Nazgûl at all. Rather, there stood o'er him an elleth clad in black Dwarf armor. A ril of Light, silver and gold surrounded her and blue fire crackled from her eyes. She produced a Ring of mithril from a clip at her waist and brought it to his throat.

"In 1851 an elleth disappeared from Nanduhirion. Tell me all thou know of this," she demanded.

The captain was so terrified that he could barely think. Fifty-one years ago, he had been young, scavenging scraps, not even a soldier yet, and of a missing elleth, he knew 'naught. He had been bred north of the High Pass and he was now as far south as he had e'er been. Ne'er had he come to Nanduhirion, for 'twas too close to Khazad-dûm.

"Don't know nothin' 'bout no missin' She-Elf," he whimpered. "Ne'er been to Nanduhirion either."

"'Naught hast thou to gain by withholding 'aught," she said. "Hast thou heard of this from any?"

"Nay, nobody I know's said nothin'," he whined, "swear I don't know nothin'."

Indeed nobody he could have known had 'aught to say. Khamûl had slain all save those who had accompanied him hence, and they had ne'er returned to the Hithaeglir. The Lieutenant of the Nazgûl had taken care to cover his tracks.

The elleth regarded him with an intense gaze, seeming to delve his secrets and fears. If she had gloated o'er his helplessness and suffering, t'would have made her easier to understand, yet her expression was one of concentration only.

I believe him, the Sarchram she held to his throat said.

The weapon's voice…it sounded just like her. Terror like this he had ne'er known aforetime. Looking down at him, the elleth sighed, and for a moment, it seemed that he glimpsed sorrow. Then a quick slash crossed his throat and he choked on his own blood. The elleth dipped her hand into the spreading pool and then she walked to the wall. There she wrote a message, but what it said, he ne'er knew.

"Im belthant huiniath!"¹ ¹(Im belthant huiniath! I killed them all! Sindarin)

Helluin left the Yrch warren, glad to be outdoors again and in the sunlight. Here she had slain seventy and learnt 'naught. 'Twas the same up and down the length of the Misty Mountains, it seemed. For fifty years she had sought for clues to Beinvír's disappearance, and she would search for fifty centuries if need be.

From the defense of Fornost, she had ridden in great haste to the Ennyn Durin, and there she had been hailed as a friend and ally and admitted immediately. She was grim and had said little, save to request information. By then, the slaughter of the party of traders was known in Khazad-dûm, and some clues had been discovered.

There had been a battle where many Yrch lay dead, and many of those had been slain with Elvish arrows. Upon the branch of the road that led past Lórinand down to Anduin, Beinvír's travel bag had been found lying abandoned, and with it, a carved wooden flute. Helluin carried the flute still. Of Beinvír and her weapons, 'naught had been found, even after the search had widened. Back to the Caradhras Pass and o'er the mountains to Eriador, north up the road to the Old Ford, and south even so far as Fangorn, soldiers of Khazad-dûm had sought for tidings. They had found 'naught. If the Yrch had been part of a host, it had been neither vast, nor had it left a trail. The Dwarves deemed the dead to be part of some party either wholly exterminated, or fled to a stronghold in the Hithaeglir with numbers so reduced as to leave no trail they could mark. The only other clue was that a great count of the Yrch had been slain by swords, and yet no trace of a company of Men could they discern, and so the identity and actions of whosoe'er had aided the Green Elf could not be determined. Helluin had learnt all this in council with captains of the army of the Longbeards. She had made her way next to Lórinand.

In the Golden Wood, none had seen Beinvír. She had not arrived. The Lady had heard tell of the Green Elf's disappearance from afar by way of the Lord Elrond. She had prevailed on King Amroth to send march wardens to the northern and eastern borders, but they had discovered 'naught. Beinvír had ne'er reached Lórinand.

All this Helluin had learnt ere the end of Lothron in 1851. 'Naught else had been revealed since. And ne'er again had she felt the Green Elf's presence through their link. In a rage, she had stalked away from the realm of King Amroth, and she had not looked back. Words spoken 'twixt friends long aforetime were taken now as an oath. For half a century she had haunted the Hithaeglir. In every warren of the Yrch that she had emptied, she had asked the same questions and received the same bewildered replies. If the Yrch knew 'naught, she hadn't a clue as to who might.

Still, Helluin persevered. She had 'naught but time on her hands and there was no call for her aid elsewhere. During that time, she fell out of touch with events in the rest of the world. Long years passed ere she learnt that in 1854, Thranduil and Inthuiril had celebrated the birth of a son and heir whom they named Legolas. The joyous occasion was hailed throughout the Woodland Realm, and congratulations were received from as far away as Lindon and Gondor. Those tidings brought the Noldo great joy, as she thought of the young elleth she had saved in Dol Guldur, and the wise king who had absolved her for her part in his greatest sorrow, becoming parents. 'Twas perhaps the singular joyful event of those years, for other tidings were not so joyful.

In 1856, King Narmacil II of Gondor was slain in battle with the Wainriders of Rhûn in what came to be called The Battle of the Plains. His allies from the north too were worsted, and Marhari, the King of Rhovanion, fell with many of his riders beside him. In the aftermath, Gondor had lost her eastern provinces and many of the Northmen were enslaved. The lands south and east of Greenwood were subject to Easterling rule, but a branch of the Northmen 'neath the rule of Marhwini son of Marhari fled through the forest to the Vale of Anduin and settled in the lands 'twixt the Gladden Fields and the Carrock. In that same year, Calimehtar took the throne of Gondor as her thirtieth king.

Another event came to pass in 1856, though Helluin and the Wise learnt of it only later. Sauron recalled the Nazgûl to Mordor. Following the Plague and the war with the Wainriders, Gondor's depopulation had led to the total failing of the watch on the Black Land. 'Twas open for reoccupation again at last. Tindomul had already limped back into the east, spiritually scorched during his loss at Fornost five years aforetime. Now Khamûl was commanded to absent Dol Guldur.

With Tindomul's failure and convalescence, and Khamûl's success in taking Beinvír prisoner, the Lieutenant's position had risen high in his master's favor. In Dol Guldur he had assisted Sauron in the breaking of the prisoner, but when ordered to take his leave, he committed her to a company of Yrch for delivery and subsequent breeding in Mt Gundabad. The Black Easterling then commanded the withdrawal of the other seven Úlairi to Mordor.

One further catastrophe came to pass ere the turn of the century. In 1889, tidings of woe came from the Woodland Realm. Yrch from Mt. Gundabad had ventured into northern Greenwood, and there they captured Queen Inthuiril during a battle with the Tawarwaith and Sindar. She was tortured, slain, and her body flung into the Forest River. Days later, her remains were recovered by the Elves and brought back to Thranduil's Halls. The young Prince Legolas was heartbroken. His father grew distant, severe, and cold.

1891 came, and in Arthedain, Prince Araphant succeeded his father Araval as the fourteenth king of the northern Dúnedain. In 1899, King Calimehtar won a victory for Gondor against the Wainriders on the plain of Dagorlad. The next year, he rebuilt the White Tower of Minas Anor, raising it higher and grander than e'er aforetime.

In the South Kingdom, Calimehtar passed on the crown to his son Ondoher in 1936. The thirty-first king had two ill-fated sons and a daughter, Fíriel. To seal the renewed converse 'twixt the two kingdoms of the Dúnedain, the princess wed Prince Arvedui, heir to the throne of Arthedain in 1940.

Now in the east, the Wainriders rebuilt their strength, and they allied themselves with the Haradrim and some principalities of Khand. Then in 1944, they assailed Gondor from both north and south with a great army. In the south, Captain Eärnil defeated the Haradrim and the Men of Khand, but in the north, the Wainriders slaughtered and scattered Gondor's Northern Army. There King Ondoher and his two sons fell in battle 'nigh the old towers, Carchost and Narchost, which guarded the ruins of the Morannon. The princes Artamir and Faramir would ne'er inherit their father's throne.

Swiftly the tidings of disaster came to Captain Eärnil as the Wainriders invaded North Ithilien, and he marched the Southern Army north, gathering survivors of the Northern Army as he went. Then, as the Wainriders encamped to celebrate their victory, Eärnil fell upon them at unawares and the invaders were utterly defeated.

In the aftermath, the succession was in doubt. King Ondoher's Steward Pelendur ruled whilst claims to the throne were heard, but then a claim came from Arvedui in the north. Legal arguments were made upon both sides, but the Council of Gondor was determined that the descendants of Anárion retain the throne of Gondor. Eventually, Arvedui's claim was rejected and Eärnil II was enthroned as Gondor's thirty-second king. For a third time, the direct line from Anárion was broken. In the spirit of reconciliation, the new king pledged his support of Arthedain, but t'would be years ere the South Kingdom could come with aid to the north.

In 1964, Prince Arvedui succeeded his father, King Araphant as the fifteenth King of Arthedain. Ill-fated was his name, yet it proved true in the end.

Of these things, Helluin learnt 'naught 'til much later. In the end, she spent 'nigh a century and a quarter as a scourge upon the Yrch of the Hithaeglir. With the blue glow of her dagger to reveal their lairs, she hunted. The darkness of her spirit matched the darkness of the tunnels 'neath the mountains, and there she slew 'nigh fifteen thousands at a rate of just o'er one hundred per month. In that time, she earned yet another title. Now Yrch whispered fearfully of the Ghâshgûl¹ that visited ruin upon all it met. Now even their lairs were unsafe. 'Twas almost with relief that they answered the call of the rejuvenated Witch King, to march forthwith to Carn Dûm and serve at arms against Fornost Erain. 'Twas T.A. 1974. ¹(Ghâshgûl, Fire wraith/ghost Orkish)

To Be Continued