In An Age Before – Part 178
'Round the same time that Meneldor and Helluin were surveying the tracks leading from the old north ford, the detachment of Yrch and Easterlings returned to Fornost. They had traveled the last league through the forest in no great haste, for despite their victory, none of them were eager to be questioned by the Nazgûl. Still, they could delay no longer, and so they entered the broken gateway and disbanded seeking food, drink, and rest from their march. The commanders alone were ushered to their master. These Tindomul met with individually, a tactic by which he might discern any dissembling, and which had become a reflex when dealing with his underlings.
"Pray recount to me thy triumph," he asked the leader of the Easterling cavalry as the Man stood before him, nervously shifting his feet and looking anywhere but at him.
"As thou commanded, we gave chase through the forest when they assailed us. 'Tis my guess that they still numbered 'nigh a hundred. They were knights of Arthedain in disguise, just as thou suspected, or so they seemed to us when we examined their corpses."
"I see," Tindomul said, offering reassurance, though he believed little the Man had claimed. "And so thy riders pursued them to their deaths?"
"'Twas just so, and we slaughtered them upon the road, through the forest, and then north all the way to the Plains of Forochel."
"How many of thy riders were lost in the pursuit?" Tindomul had counted only eighty-five returning from the forest.
"Four score and ten fell achieving victory in thy name, lord, yet all were willing to give their lives in thy service."
"And what count of the enemy dead, pray tell?" The Nazgûl asked.
"We counted forty-five knights and their horses, lord, but I reckon more were slain and eaten by the Yrch, for they took up the pursuit by night, whilst we gave chase by day."
"And did any escape thee, commander?"
Here the Man remained silent for a telling moment, and when he spoke, 'twas with contrived uncertainty.
"One or two may have been delivered by the swiftness of their horses, lord, I know not for sure. If so, then they were beyond our reach, and after three days seeing none, we were forced to turn back, finding no longer sufficient pasturage for our mounts."
"So whilst thy Men were willing to give their lives in my service, their horses were not," Tindomul said, nodding to himself. "And did thou or any of thy Men retrieve the spoils I crave, or perhaps the head of the king?"
"My lord, we searched thoroughly all such gear and baggage as was found with the dead, and discovered 'naught thou named aforetime. Neither thy spoils, nor the king's head were amongst the goods taken from the slain."
Though he shivered and his face was pale with fear, the Man bore the Ringwraith's glance. He at least believed the last part of his report. Of course, he had told lies aforetime, but those had been obvious. The Wraith resolved to treat with him further following his interview of the Yrch commander. He dismissed the Easterling to his mess and his bunk.
"Go now and seek food and rest, for thou hast been long afield and slew many foes."
The Man gave his master a hasty bow and fled with palpable relief. The commander of the Yrch appeared before him next.
"Tell me now of thy campaign, my loyal servant," Tindomul commanded of the Orch.
The creature executed a bow and drew himself up before his master in a mummery of a military officer presenting a report.
"We marched into the forest following the cavalry. There we were assailed by both riders and archers, though our numbers kept them from offering proper battle. My column sustained repeated charges from the forest by mounted companies numbering two dozens. We could not be certain of how many such companies. The Easterlings gave chase and were led roundabout, finally arriving back at the road just after the last enemy charge.
My troops spread out through the forest seeking the archers, but by some enchantment, they eluded us, though we did burn down a lodge, depriving the enemy of shelter. Afterwards a chase of the riders was joined. The Easterlings drove them north by day, and we by night, depriving them of rest. In a number of skirmishes, we depleted their numbers 'til the last few were driven so far north that they must surely have perished, yet we found no trace of them.
My lord, we deem that many may have managed to escape during the pursuit, for in total we could count not quite four dozen of the enemy slain, yet according to the Easterlings, o'er double that count had stood against them aforetime. We saw no trails leading away, yet in the far north, the ground is hard, bare rock and gravel mostly, and the wind shrieks constantly, erasing what scant tracks there might have been. Our trackers and sniffers could not be sure.
One further thing we found. In despoiling one of the dead, we marked the rank emblem of a commander, and so we deem that the captain of our enemies is slain, he having been appointed by a cowardly and absent king to lead this last action against thee. Of the king or his treasures, we found 'naught."
The Orch gave a closing bow and awaited whatsoe'er reaction came from his master.
The Ringwraith had marked many points in common with the account of the Easterling, and some subtle differences. Without directly contradicting the Easterlings, the Orch had expressed doubts that more than forty-odd riders had e'er existed, though he could neither prove, nor disprove the existence of more. The Yrch had marked the fall of the enemy commander, and from all they had discovered, obviously disbelieved that the king and his palantíri had e'er been present.
"And how many of thy company fell achieving thy victory?"
"My lord, we return with our count reduced by two hundred seven, ninety-four slain in cavalry charges, and one hundred thirteen slain by archers."
"I thank thee for thy service," the Nazgûl said. "Go now to thy board and thy rest."
The Orch was relieved to be dismissed unscathed. 'Twas as much as he could have hoped for.
Tindomul quickly tallied the losses. Ninety Easterlings and two hundred seven Yrch had died to kill forty-five Dúnedain knights. His troops' losses were 'nigh seven to one. The Nazgûl cared 'naught for the fallen, for they had been incompetent in battle and had prevailed only due to their numbers. He just rued the lack of rewards from the campaign. The king was still at large and the Seeing Stones had probably escaped into the far north with him. Yet about those things, he could do 'naught.
Knowing now that the Dúnedain were fled and the Elves of Lindon and Imladris constrained, the Ringwraith proceeded to concentrate on the occupation of his city. Far stronger and much better placed was Fornost than Carn Dûm. The lands were more productive and the weather more fair. The North Fortress would be his new capital, and the realm of Arthedain his new Angmar. He foresaw that in a century of two, a mighty host would come from the north 'neath his command, to assail the South Kingdom whilst his master's thralls from the south and the east bled the Men of Gondor. Finally, they would drive the last of the Númenóreans into their graves, or into the Sea.
On 10 Gwirith, the Witch King ordered all but a company of fifty Yrch and a dozen Easterlings into the fortress. The few remaining at the entrance were a token guard force, left to keep watch upon the North Road and the lands surrounding Fornost. The vast majority of his host was set to work securing and mapping the city. The Tor he tasked with returning the gates to their position in the curtain wall. The workshops of armorers and smiths were commandeered to aid in the repairs.
For the following fortnight, Men and Yrch roamed the avenues and alleys, whilst crows viewed the layout from above. With their reports, the Ringwraith was able to cobble together a workable map of the city, and thereafter deploy some of his forces as guard companies covering all the districts within Fornost. For the greater mass of his troops, Tindomul used the barracks of Arthedain's army, for these were already provided with mess halls, kitchens, pantries, and courtyards for mustering and drilling.
Finally, Tindomul assigned Yrch, Men, and Tor to the deforestation of the city. For weeks, he had suffered the torment of the trees and plants that had been brought long aforetime from Númenor. Now flowerbeds were uprooted, trees felled, and shrubs rent from the ground. All were piled and burnt, and the Ringwraith rejoiced as his conquest became e'er more endurable. At last the cadres approached the royal quarter, and there they set to work hewing and digging to clear the expansive royal gardens of 'aught that grew and flowered. The work continued for weeks and columns of smoke rose into the sky day and night. 'Twas late Lothron ere they were done, yet finally, Tindomul could take possession of the citadel and tower.
By then, the Tor and the Yrch had contrived to make workable gate hinges, crude and cumbersome, but functional. Once convinced that the gate would actually stop an attack, only a small company of Yrch was assigned to keep watch from the barbican. The Wraith then set the Tor to the labor of breaking the inner gate. This took weeks, for the lumbering creatures could work only by night, and the incredible mass of the monolithic slab resisted their mattocks, chisels, and sledgehammers. Dusk to dawn they pounded on the stone, and the ringing of their blows carried throughout Fornost and o'er the surrounding countryside. The Nazgûl found the din comforting, for it sounded like progress.
Slowly the tens of thousands of impacts made their mark. Chips first, and then fragments flew from the inner and outer faces of the gate block. Too stupid to become bored, the Tor continued relentlessly, and bit by bit, the stone gave way. When, after two weeks, a fragment weighing several tons calved off the outer face and crushed one of the Trolls, Tindomul deemed their labors fruitful at last. Despite craving the destruction of the entire gate stone, Tindomul would be satisfied with removing enough of it to admit wagons, that being roughly half its breadth. The Tor finally achieved this in the second week of Nórui, and by then, the Nazgûl had occupied the tower.
From the uppermost chamber, he kept watch o'er all of Fornost, fancying his station there akin to his master's abode atop the Barad-dúr. In his fantasy 'twas much the same, though on a far smaller scale, of course. And so, as Sauron had wrought in imitation of Melkor's fortress of Thangorodrim when he had raised his realm in Mordor, Tindomul aggrandized his master with his homage, mistakenly believing that it aggrandized himself.
The fortress and the lands it dominated he renamed Gondmar, Stone Home, and the king's tower he christened the Barad-hald, the High Tower, for 'twas the tallest structure in the north now that Amon Sûl had been thrown down. The fallen prince of Númenor was beginning to feel like a king at last. Then he laid heavy sorcery upon the city 'til the very stones grew haunted, and even his own mortal servants feared their new home. Specters and fell spirits conjured by his will walked the streets, and shadows filled places where aforetime there had been sunlight. Fungi and mushrooms grew upon the stumps of wholesome plants and wafted their spores into the air. Black lichens spread from crevices to coat the masonry, and there they slowly began to eat away at mortar and stone. 'Twas a precursor to what would be done in Minas Ithil when the full strength of the Nine would transform Isildur's city into the horror of Minas Morgul.
To the surviving Dúnedain, the fortress of the kings was damned and they deemed it accursed, and they avoided it for all the remaining days of that Age. 'Twas not 'til long years had passed that Fornost Erain would be liberated from the terror and fear when the King of Men came again.
Now in mid-Nórui, having consolidated his conquest and ordered the city to his satisfaction, the Nazgûl called out to his master, and Sauron came in thought to hear the report of his servant.
"Lord Sauron, at last I am victorious! Fornost is fallen and the Dúnedain are gone," Tindomul chortled. "My forces occupy the lands of Arthedain in thy name."
Sauron received these tidings with a measure of reserve. Things were seldom as claimed.
"A great victory indeed, O Murazor, and I rejoice in thy conquest of the fortress. Are the Númenóreans gone to their graves?"
"Many were slain in the siege, but some few escaped, master. They are of no consequence," the Witch King claimed, though most of those slain in the siege had been his own troops. "The lands of Arthedain are yours."
"I see," said Sauron, beginning to suspect that his lieutenant had failed to understand his priorities, "and so thou slew the last heir of Isildur and recovered the palantíri of the north?"
Gorthaur found the following silence quite telling.
"Land and a fortress thou hast taken, O Murazor, yet thy conquest remains incomplete," he said. "Remain thither and complete thy works. Bring me the head of the king and his Seeing Stones. Slay any of Dúnedain blood found in Eriador. When the last of the Númenóreans lie in the ground and the palantíri are in my hand, thou shalt have truly conquered."
"T'will be as thou wills, my master," Tindomul said.
Now some few further tidings were traded 'twixt Sauron and his servant, for better and worse, as time would tell. And Tindomul took his master's orders to mean that he was given free rein to terrorize the countryside and hunt any remaining Dúnedain to their deaths, whilst his only outstanding deficits were the lack of the king's head and the Seeing Stones. To obtain them, he had howsoe'er long those tasks required and so he felt no pressure of time. The kings were mortal and they would die sooner or later, as would any surviving heirs. The palantíri would exist 'til they were in his possession.
The Witch King settled into his role as Lord of Gondmar and ruled his realm from the Barad-hald. Messengers he sent to Carn Dûm, appointing a brutal lord of the Hillmen, a descendant of the last King of Rhudaur, to be his regent, to rule Angmar in his name, and charging the Man to raise a host and secure the northern Hithaeglir. All those remaining of the Men of Rhudaur who had served Angmar aforetime were to be conscripted, as were any Yrch found in warrens 'twixt Gundabad and the High Pass. To this Man, Tindomul taught some sorcery, and he granted him a measure of power, the better to cow his subjects and carry out more efficiently his o'erlord's orders.
The month of Cerveth opened, and in his new kingdom of Gondmar, the Nazgûl sent companies of Men and Yrch to roam the countryside. Their only order was to prosecute the extermination of any Dúnedain they could find. These spread south and east, for there were no significant settlements to the west. They ranged from the North Downs southwest to the Baranduin, and they terrorized the farmers and settlers down to Sarn Athrad, slaying Man and beast with gleeful abandon. In terror, the folk of those lands fled south down the river, or east 'cross the ford, and then followed the Greenway towards Tharbad.
Those companies then came to Sûza, and though they slew many beasts and burned some crops, the Men amongst their companies prevailed upon the Yrch, deeming the cultivated lands a boon that would feed them in the years to come. Of the Perianin, few were actually found, for most had hid well enough to remain undiscovered, and those taken were for the most part spared to work the land as Halfling chattel, subject to the will of their king.
Beyond Sûza lay the Old Forest and the Barrow Downs, and there the Witch King's companies ran afoul. Some invisible power lay upon that land. Men and Yrch who ventured thither returned not. Then the Yrch circulated tales of old, telling of atrocities, slaughter, and bloody defeats endured since the past Age, and so the companies shied away from the forest and turned north. They skirted the Barrow Downs, knowing them to be populated by their master's wights, and took the East Road instead.
To the east, the Witch King's companies embattled and worsted the soldiers of Arthedain still holding the garrison at the crossroads. Most of the Dúnedain there were slain and the survivors fled into the Chetwood with the refugees who had encamped thither. At Archet, the troops of Gondmar found no Dúnedain, just Men of Twilight like themselves who hunted in the forest or farmed small plots of crops amongst the trees. These they ignored. Yet when they attempted to pursue the fleeing Dúnedain through the Chetwood, they again found themselves assailed from all sides by foes they could not see, and not all of these were archers. It seemed the same lore recalled of the Old Forest held true for the Chetwood and Bree Hill, and again they retreated.
In Bree and Staddle, the Men and Yrch again found no Dúnedain, and so the inhabitants, large and small, were spared the worst of the Witch King's predations. Beyond Staddle lay the Midgewater Marshes and Tindomul's troops shunned them, bypassing the swamp to the south along the Great East Road.
They came next to Amon Sûl and found it deserted. North they turned and examined the Weather Hills where aforetime forts had held more soldiers of Arthedain. These too they found emptied of any hostile forces, still and silent, and so they continued north, invading the wide lands bordering Rhudaur that had once been pastures and fields. These had been subject to their initial havoc, wrecked ere the host had reached Fornost the previous winter. Now the lands lay emptied with the ruins of farms and hamlets untouched since they had been burnt and despoiled aforetime. It seemed that save for a few soldiers who had fled into the Chetwood and some farmers and herdsmen who had fled towards Tharbad or the southern coast, the last of the Númenóreans were gone from Arthedain. The Ringwraith gave them praise upon their return.
Their campaign had consumed the remainder of the summer, and now autumn had come. Tindomul dispatched Men to levy Sûza for eight parts in ten of all crops and livestock as tribute to their o'erlord in the Barad-hald. Companies of Easterlings and Hillmen rode down the North Road with many wagons to carry back the spoils. They turned west at the crossroads and came to Baranduin where they crossed the Bridge of Stonebows.
In the Shire they found the fields harvested, the paddocks emptied, and the homes abandoned. 'Twas as if every Halfling, pony, cow, sheep, pig, and chicken had picked up and gone off to parts unknown, taking their grains, their fruits, and their vegetables with them. Holes stood silent, houses deserted, and barns barren. Inns and taverns were shuttered and not even a barrel of beer remained within. The Men stared about in astonishment, but search as they might, they found 'naught of the inhabitants or their goods. Frustrated and baffled, they departed back to Gondmar, dreading their master's reaction to their tidings of failure.
Predictably, Tindomul was wroth. 'Twas not that he needed food or drink himself, being long dead as he was, but his host required sustenance and they had spent no time at cultivation. Crops had been burnt during their reign of terror. Livestock had been slaughtered and eaten on the spot. Now Ivanneth had come, the harvest season was high, and there was no food in Gondmar. He set Men and Yrch to make a count of what stores had been left behind when the Dúnedain fled Fornost, yet he knew that his host had been eating those provisions since they had first occupied the fortress seven months aforetime. The report came back, claiming that at half-rations, there were sufficient victuals to last another three weeks. The Yrch licked their chops, anticipating feasting on Man flesh. The banquet would commence in a month or so. Tindomul groaned in exasperation. Had he still a butt, t'would have pained him.
Having little other recourse, the Wraith sent parties out in all directions to hunt 'aught that moved. He ordered more parties hence to scavenge whatsoe'er they could find from ruined homesteads, burnt farms, and deserted hamlets. Having the motivation of starvation now, the Men sought hard for 'aught they deemed edible, whilst the Yrch stood by, motivated to do 'naught whilst awaiting the Men's starvation.
Because they had rampaged through northern Arthedain in the last months of the previous winter, there had been no spring planting. Fields lay fallow and only weeds grew where grain had been cultivated aforetime. In gardens, some herbs and nuts were culled, but berries were long past their time. In orchards that hadn't been chopped down for spite they found some fruits, and in the ruins of farmhouses some preserved foods and grains. They returned in early Narbeleth, having accumulated a few weeks' provisions, whilst in the meantime, those provision counted aforetime had been consumed. The parties sent out hunting had done even more poorly. What they had caught had but sustained them during their time away from the city, and having no way save smoking and drying to preserve 'aught, they returned with only a few dozen pounds of poorly cured jerky. The Nazgûl could only chuckle in anticipation of their suffering. Spring would come with lessened host, but enemies were few now and besides, what could he do?
Tindomul left the depressed companies and repaired to the great hall of the citadel. There he sat upon the throne of kings, (as he was now wont to do), and contemplated the state of his campaign. He was no closer to satisfying the demands of his master, and soon he would have far fewer hands with which to accomplish those tasks. Then he realized something horribly amiss, a gross o'ersight on his own part and a strategic disaster of the very first order. Whilst preoccupied with the state of the city, he had ignored the blocking forces constraining his foes in Lindon and Imladris. If his troops in the shelter of the fortress were facing starvation o'er the coming winter, what of those troops stationed in the wild? During the entire duration of their deployment, he had sent no provisions. Indeed, he had not even inquired as to their status, nor had they sent any messages to him. On those few occasions when he had thought of the blocking forces at all, he had deemed that no news was good news, and as no foes had appeared, his blocking forces must still be maintaining their leaguers.
In fury, the Ringwraith dispatched messengers to Lindon and Imladris to assess the status of the troops and the effectiveness of the sieges. In silence, he cursed himself. Tindomul knew in the moment of his realization that he had missed his greatest opportunity. Whilst the weather had been fair and his troops still provisioned and flush from their victory at Fornost, he should have prosecuted the campaigns against Círdan and Elrond. Those foes should have been defeated once and for all months ago and their threat removed fore'er. Instead, he had let the time slip away. He had chased four dozen renegade cavalry and a phantom king, hewn plants, ravaged the countryside, and then sought in vain for food. 'Twas very likely that by spring, his forces would be too weak and too few to maintain their dominance on the field. And if they failed, his enemies would assail his weakened host. He could lose all he had gained.
A king at last and a king for a year, he thought bitterly, I have become my own Arvedui.
The Nazgûl dispatched Easterlings to review the blocking forces. T'would take a fortnight's travel by horse for his messengers to reach Lindon or Imladris. Ten days of Narbeleth would pass ere his messengers learnt 'aught, and the month would be old ere they returned. In the meantime, he brooded, exuding vapors of fear that permeated the citadel and the tower. His host cowered and avoided attending him at all costs. For one thing only was he still thankful. His greatest enemy and the greatest threat to his sovereignty was still absent. 'Twas his hope that she still haunted the Hithaeglir.
In fact, Tindomul's hope was in vain. Helluin had not only quit the Hithaeglir the previous spring, but she had been working tirelessly to thwart him e'er since. At first, realizing that she would be unable to free Imladris or Lindon, she had marshaled what aid she could from amongst the Green Elves. After taking counsel with Círdan, Aranarth, and Fíriel, Meneldor had borne her from Mithlond. They had not returned to the Hidden Valley. Instead, she had bid him land her a dozen miles north of the gates of the Havens. The Eagle had been only too happy to oblige ere he flapped off to his home in the Misty Mountains. The lowlands were, (as he had always thought), simply too close to the ground for his fancy.
Now Helluin had slipped through the woods, seeking for those she suspected lurked 'nigh. The concentration of enemies would have proved irresistible to them, and in this, she was correct. She had just taken the measure of a company of Easterlings encamped on the road two leagues from the gates when she was subtly hailed. This 'hail' had amounted to the snap of a twig several dozen yards to her west, away from the road. With a grin, she made her way thither, and was met by a single Laiquende who appeared before her as if spawned from the shadow of a boulder. 'Twas 10 Gwirith.
"Mae govannen, Mórgolodh. Thou hast been missed," he said, barely above a whisper.
"Mae govannen, silent hunter. I am but lately returned to these lands," she replied, just as softly. "How stand thy people?"
"Since Narwain last we have been in posture of war," the ellon said. "We mustered first to harry Angmar's host on their march from Carn Dûm, we slew such as we could ere they came to Fornost, and in the battle there we shot more from the western wood. We stood sentry for the royal family and later the people of Fornost as they fled through those same woods, and thither too we supported the king and his company 'til they passed into the far north."
At his last sentence, Helluin's glance sharpened.
"Say sooth, the king yet lives?" She asked, just to be sure.
"Aye, when last we saw him, he was pursued north by a mounted company of Easterlings and a host of Yrch."
"And the time?"
"Battle was joined upon 3 Gwaeron, but by the 9th we had fallen too far behind to be of further service." The Green Elf shook his head sadly. "Thereafter we repaired hither to reinforce our scouts and trouble the cavalry blockading Lindon, and for the past month we have shot any that we could."
Helluin nodded. During her survey with Meneldor but two days aforetime, she had marked a mixed column returning to Fornost, and now she suspected that they were the same foes the Laiquendi had engaged as the king was chased north.
"What count of the enemy remain outside Lindon?" Helluin asked.
"In the past three weeks following our arrival, we deem that we have slain eight hundreds, but we make the count of the foe o'er eleven thousands still," he answered.
"And they continue as a leaguering force only? They have not attacked?"
"Nay, they have held their positions. No messengers have ridden hither from Fornost, and none would live to delivery 'aught in any case."
To this Helluin gave a grim smile.
"Have thy people also scouts 'nigh Imladris?"
"Scouts have been there since Narwain, and for perhaps the past fortnight, reinforcements as well. The third part of our forces hastened thither from the Fall of Fornost on 10 Gwaeron."
Helluin nodded as she calculated based on the ellon's tidings. T'would take her weeks to come 'nigh Imladris, yet both the Hidden Valley and Lindon were invested, and she was just of outside Mithlond now.
"As I have no business more pressing, I believe I shall remain hither and aid thee for a time," she said.
The ellon had just begun to grin when Anguirél spoke from within her sheath.
A welcome respite from Yrch shall the blood of the Rhûnwaith be. Had we a century, I would drink of them all."
Now through the remaining twenty days of Gwirith, Lothron, and the thirty-one days of Nórui that followed, Helluin joined the Green Elves in their campaign against the blocking force outside of Lindon. And whilst 'twas oft that the Laiquendi would move close to an enemy's camp and shoot a tithe of them from the dark, Helluin was wont to simply walk into a company's camp and begin hewing them with sudden fury, o'erwhelming their opposition by her prowess at arms. She set for herself a quota and essayed to slay a company each night ere Anor's rising, for unlike her hunt for the Yrch in the Hithaeglir, the cavalry camps were set close one to another and easily marked by their campfires. Grim she was and tireless, and Anguirél rejoiced in the slaughter, and the Sarchram gave thanks for the bounty of foes, and the terror of her spread in whispers so that few amongst that host slept in peace ere their final rest. And it came to pass that in eighty-one days she diminished the blocking force, and she counted the slain twenty-four hundreds, for there were nights when she fell short of her quota.
Yet in the aftermath of the bloodshed at each encampment, she took the time to come amongst the horses, and she calmed their fright with soft words in the Elvish tongue, and then set them free of their servitude to the Easterlings, telling them of fine pasturage in a green country, and a small folk who treated beasts well.
Now when the killing started, the Easterlings sent forth messengers to convey tidings of their plight to their master. Those riders took the road that led inland from Mithlond, and through the unseen leaguer of the Laiquendi they attempted to pass, but not a one of them e'er came to Fornost. For Tindomul, no news was simply no news.
As Anor rose on 1 Cerveth, Helluin came amongst the Green Elves with the forty-eight horses from the last cavalry company she had exterminated.
"It hath come to me that others in these lands may need aid, and so I take my leave. First to Sûza I shall make my way, for I deem the Perianin in grave jeopardy. In Fornost, I wager the Witch King has consolidated his occupation. Now, ere he turns his attention to the surrounding lands, I shall carry warnings to those least capable of fending him off."
Though they were sorry to see her go, the Green Elves agreed that the Shire should be warned, and they bid her farewell with much honor. She rode off with a trail of freed horses following in her wake. Outside of Mithlond, the blocking force now numbered less than six thousands.
Helluin headed east on the road that wound through the Emyn Beraid 'til she came to the White Towers. At Elostirion, she warned the King's Custodian of the Palantír, who had received no communications since 28 Nínui, shortly after King Arvedui had arisen to find the Host of Angmar on his doorstep. No word of the fall of the fortress had yet come to him and he blanched when heard her tidings. She prevailed upon him to send word to the garrison that stood 'nigh, for those soldiers were now amongst the few free defenders of Arthedain.
By 3 Cerveth, Helluin had passed Noberaid, Undertowers, the ancient village that lay at the eastern foot of the Tower Hills, and came to the Far Downs. She had shared tidings in every hamlet from Noberaid to Dorongalen, the village of Greenholm, named for the stands of evergreen oaks that grew on the steep western faces and heights of the Far Downs. Another day's ride brought her to the White Downs, which were then the border of the Shire. All along that westernmost stretch of the King's Road, she had spread word that Angmar now ruled in Fornost and the Witch King might send troops against them.
Immediately upon entering Sûza, she made for Tickburrow in the West Farthing, where she and Beinvír had aided Isengrub in the days of the Great Plague. O'er three hundred thirty-five years had passed since then, and Helluin was astonished at how much change had come to the little ghyll with its creek and score of Hobbit holes.
Now the hamlet extended up onto the flat lands that had once hosted fields. More holes had been delved into the hills to both sides 'round the mouth of the ghyll. Cultivated fields extended out onto the flatlands that lay before them, with neatly fenced paddocks and hedgerows dividing the landscape for several miles. A hand lettered sign proclaimed the 'Village of Tuckburrow'. She wondered if 'twas a misspelling.
Helluin made her way past a few staring inhabitants to what had been the home of her friend, finding it appearing unchanged save for a fresh coat of paint on the door and shutters. She would have sworn 'twas the very same pair of benches flanking the entrance. After knocking with her knuckles, she had but a short time to wait ere a middle-aged Perian pulled the round door open and a horde of cats trotted out, sniffing at the elleth and then examining the small herd of horses that waited in the lane out front.
"G'monin' to ye," he said, looking askance at her, for she cut an outlandish figure in her black armor and tattered cloak. "If 'tis hunger afflictin' ye, I can offer some bread."
'Twas obvious that he took her for a beggar or perhaps a road brigand who had fallen on hard times, for his eyes had flicked o'er her weapons.
"Good farmer, I crave not thy board, but have come with tidings of danger to thee and thy people," she said. At his unchanged expression, she added, "upon a time I knew those who lived hither, Isengrub, son of Weaselbob, his wife, Spitoonia, and their children, Hoden and Fistula."
The Halfling's eyes grew wide at the mention of their names, and he stuttered ere he recovered his composure and asked, "ye knew me great, great, greats ye did?"
"Aye, and delivered them from the Plague. Isengrub had come to Rhudaur seeking curative Elvish magicks, and we accompanied him back to Sûza, bringing such aid as we could."
"Me kinfolk've some ol' tales o' Elfish magicks, cats, an' rotten bread," he said. "Still got th' cats, an' th' bread still rots," he said, mostly to himself as he tried to recall his family's lore.
"I bear tidings more pressing," Helluin said, recovering his attention. "The king's city has fallen to Angmar, and I deem that sooner or later, the Witch King's troops shall bring great evil to Sûza."
His eyes grew wide in shock and fear and he looked both ways, up and down the lane, as if expecting to see hordes of foemen charging into the ghyll. 'Twas comical and Helluin fought to maintain her composure and not burst out laughing. A quick glance away through his door revealed yet more cats lounging in the entrance hall. Finally, he looked back to Helluin.
"I'm named for 'em, ye know," he said. Caught by the seeming non sequitur, Helluin gave him a questioning glance. "Me ancestors, o'course. I'm Weaselgrub, son of Ingolbob."
Helluin choked.
It took a while, but eventually she was able to look at Weaselgrub without snickering. More eventually still, she was even able to impress upon him the state of Eriador, the fall of the king's folk, and the jeopardy in which his peaceful land found itself, even if most there knew it not.
"I'd gladly spread word o' the threat, 'cept a few here'bouts think me cracked 'an may not lend their ears," he admitted. "'Tis me favorin' o' so many cat folk that they think strange."
Sitting together in Weaselgrub's kitchen, the very same kitchen in which she and Beinvír had once strained the curative serum and dosed the black cat Harnolthion with a funnel, Helluin could see their point. They were surrounded by dozens of cats.
"Perhaps thou could suggest one of unimpeachable reputation to whom I could speak? One in Sûza whose warnings would be heeded by the others?" Helluin asked.
Weaselgrub thought for only a moment ere giving his answer.
"'Tis a long journey ta meet th' one I think could help ye," he said.
Helluin nodded for him to continue. Considering the size of the Shire, 'twas not far enough in any direction for her to consider the trip even a moderate journey. Instead of mentioning this though, she simply said, "I shall ride the whole way."
"Ride a horse?" He asked, straight-faced.
"Aye, having not an Eagle to hand," she answered, also straight-faced.
Now Weaselgrub chuckled, deeming that Helluin was pulling his leg.
"Ride an Eagle," he muttered, with a conspiratorial grin. "Ye'll be needin' ta talk ta Bucca, out east in th' Marish."
To this advice, Helluin nodded. With the Marish, being 'nigh the Bridge of Stonebows in its north and encompassing the western bank of the Baranduin, perhaps this Bucca would be a bit less provincial than his countrymen further from the borders.
Weaselgrub thought for a moment and then warned Helluin, "Bucca's one o' those newcomers, th' Stoors from Dunland. They're strange folks, wearin' shoes an' livin' 'bove ground."
Helluin nodded again. The Stoors had arrived but thirty years after the Shire was settled, three hundred seventy-four years aforetime.
"I thank thee kindly for thy advice, good farmer Weaselgrub. I shall go to meet this Bucca. If thou would, pray warn thy kinfolk and thy neighbors of the possible danger ahead."
"I can warn 'em 'til I'm red in the face, but 'less they hear it from one with fewer cats, they'll not mind a word," he said with certainty.
Shortly later, Helluin was cantering east down the Stock Road towards the village of Stock in the northern Marish. The way ran some fifty-five miles, and so 'round four hours past noon on 5 Cerveth, Helluin rode into Stock at the head of a herd of horses. Again, every inhabitant stared at her. She dismounted before an old inn known as the Golden Perch, (actually the second establishment of that name, for the first, and several incarnations that followed, had burnt down due to unfortunate drinking accidents). After ducking through the door to the common room, Helluin asked after Bucca of the Marish. As she expected, 'twas silent stares that greeted her.
"I have come hither on the advice of Weaselgrub of Tuckburrow, seeking Bucca, an influential Perian of this district," she stated.
Alas, at the mention of Weaselgrub's name, there was laughter, a spate of disparaging remarks, some 'meows', and much muttering. A table of patrons stood and left, shaking their heads. Helluin groaned, suspecting that she had made a tactical error. Finally, having few other options, she simply stated her tidings to the company at large.
"I come with warnings of danger in the days close ahead. The King's city of Fornost has fallen to the Witch King of Angmar, and his soldiers roam these land seeking sport, plunder, and sustenance. I believe that they shall come hither, and would bid ye prepare for fight or flight."
Finally there was silence again, and 'twas not borne of shock at her appearance. If 'aught, her tidings of war gave credence to her bearing armor and weapons. She looked the throng o'er and saw the beginnings of fright taking hold.
Good, she thought, at last they heed me.
Finally, someone called out, "what're we gonna do?"
"Even had ye a thousand swordsmen or five hundred archers, still I would counsel ye to avoid the Host of Angmar, for they are many thousands, and many of them are Yrch."
"We got no treasures here'bouts," another called out, "shan't they pass us by?"
"Ye are the treasure, both food and cruel sport, for Yrch eat Perianin and Men, and indeed any meat, caring 'naught for its source. They would sooner slay and roast ye than pass ye by."
And now an uproar began as fear and horror took hold. The common room filled with voices raised in growing panic. Helluin nodded to herself. At last, her visit was bearing fruit.
Now the upset at the inn had continued a while when a group entered, and upon seeing them, the throng quieted a bit and looked to them, particularly to the Halfling who stood at the fore. He was taller than the Harfoots and stockier than the Fallohides, (as Stoors are wont to be), though in the company of the Perianin of the East Farthing, he stood out the less. Still, he had an air of authority about him that commanded the attention of those in the common room. Helluin looked to him hopefully, for even if he was not Bucca, at least he seemed to be one to whom she could give her tidings and not incite either disbelief or panic.
"Eh! Wha's all this keenin'?" He asked of the crowd at large.
The answers came in a flurry, which he somehow managed to filter, and after which he turned to Helluin with a questioning glance.
"'Tis true tha' Norbury's felled?" He asked.
"Aye, on 29 Nínui last. I saw it two months past, filled with Yrch and evil Men," Helluin said. "I deem the Witch King shall send troops hence, to pillage and to gather for the winter, and to slay any they can of the king's folk."
Now the Perian shook his head and stood in thought a moment, despite the continuing chatter in the common room. Helluin watched him. The wheels were turning in his head.
"An' ye wager that sleveen'll send his hooligans fer our crops?"
"Aye, for no richer tilth lies 'twixt Fornost and the sea."
"Kind of ye t'say," he said, though with the pride of one who knows it to be true. "We cannot flee ere the harvest."
To this Helluin could only nod in agreement. Flight now would only lead to starvation in the winter, and a swift death sooner bartered for one slower and later.
"Can thy folk hide hereabouts 'til Ivanneth? If they are not marked and can harvest their crops, can they then vanish for the winter with their bounty?"
To Helluin's words, the Perian gave thought, and for long he said 'naught as he weighed that possibility. His people were very good at disappearing when necessary, but could the whole population of the Shire vanish for months? And if so, how would they contrive to take all of their harvest with them? And where would they go? He glanced up at the Elf who stood waiting patiently for his answer.
"Be those yer horses?" he asked, tilting his head towards the lane outside.
"Aye, since I took them from the Witch King's cavalry at the leaguer of the Elf Havens. Hast thou an inspiration?"
That got a chuckle from him and a glint lit his eyes.
"If they come by th' road n' th' bridge, they'll come first t' Stock 'n Whitfurrows, an' findin' 'em deserted, maybe not go further. The folk here can pull back t' th' Woody End. After th' harvest, we'll empty th' East Farthing."
"The horses were cavalry mounts and can pull their weight if ye have wagons and carts," Helluin said. "I am sure they shall be happier here than in battle."
They shared a grin.
So it came to pass that when Tindomul's troops came to the Shire, they found but few in that land, and those the most stubborn of the Halflings who had refused to go into hiding on Bucca's advice. For that, they suffered, but in all, only a few fields were burnt and a few beasts slaughtered ere the Hillmen stayed the Yrch. The host left Sûza, eager to search out and slaughter the remaining Dúnedain.
Two months later, after every hand in the East, North, and South Farthings had labored dawn 'til dusk to bring in the harvest in record time, the Witch King's troops returned, this time in desperation, seeking sustenance for their winter rations, and they found 'naught. Fields lay fallow, barns and paddocks empty of livestock, and orchards picked clean. And they found not a single Perian anywhere. After invading every town and searching every farmhouse for thirty miles west of the Bridge of Stonebows, they gave up and rode back to Fornost, their wagons as empty as their stomachs.
Sitting in Weaselgrub's kitchen amongst several dozen cats, Bucca, his wife, three sons, and two daughters shared a supper with Helluin and their host. Despite his reputation, Weaselgrub and Bucca had been friends since childhood, and Bucca's kin suffered the cats well.
"I deem King Arvedui dead, though none yet know his fate," Helluin said. "Thy folk are loyal subjects of Arthedain. What shall ye do 'til a king comes again? Prince Aranarth dwells in Mithlond and he is heir to the throne, yet for now, the realm is still 'neath the heel of Angmar."
Weaselgrub and Bucca sat shaking their heads. They were loyal subjects, though they had little to do with kings, princes, and indeed with Men at all, being far more content keeping to themselves.
"Though perhaps little need is felt now, in time some authority shall be needed to maintain Sûza as a holding of the king. Thou art charged with the upkeep of the road and the bridge, after all," Helluin said, recalling a Man of Cardolan hundreds of years ago who had become regent to King Araphor.
"Lil' need as ye say, Elf Helluin, 'an none here'bouts seek a throne," Weaselgrub said.
"Aye, we find joy workin' with our hands 'n feelin' the soil, n' fer now, we got no king 'n no kingdom. Maybe someday…," Bucca trailed off, unable to imagine what the job would require. Finally, he said, "best we leave t'morrow's weather fer t'morrow."
To Be Continued