In An Age Before – Part 209
As soon as she passed the door of the Sixth Hall, a cacophony of Khuzdul greeted her ears. A glance 'round revealed tiers of bench seating rising from the marble floor surrounding a circular, waist-high hearth of firebrick in which a pile of coals glowed a soft red. Above hung an exhaust hood lined with refractory clay from which a chimney rose halfway to the distant ceiling. Before it stood a massive anvil with four horns of differing profiles protruding from its sides. A long, sword-tempering oven was located next to the hearth, accompanied by a quenching barrel and slack tub. Bins of assorted steel billets and racks of tongs, hammers, chisels, and other paraphernalia of the trade stood by.
The benches were fully populated with a lively throng, as was any standing room. The Noldo reckoned the spectators numbered o'er a thousand. They sat engaged in animated conversation or scarfing down take away meals and snacks brought to the event.
'Round the hearth, a company of sturdy Dwarves in the leather aprons of smiths stood waiting to work the bellows and swing the long hafted hammers to assist in forging the hot metal. Atop a fluted pedestal of stone, a lumpy shape lay draped in black velvet. 'Twas surely the meteorite and its presentation reminded Helluin of the Palantír of Orthanc. She shook her head. Ne'er aforetime had she seen so well equipped a forge save perhaps in the deep smithy of Narvi.
The assembly marked the entrance of Shar and Helluin, and gradually silence spread throughout the hall. A multitude of eyes followed their approach to the hearth. Once there, Helluin doffed her cloak, travel bag, and sword belt, and donned a leather apron that had been provided for her. She marked that it had an extra couple of feet of leather hastily sewn onto the hem to accommodate her stature.
When an eerie silence had taken hold in the hall, Shar addressed the gathered throng.
"Fellow iron smiths, masters and apprentices, I give ye thanks for your attendance. On this auspicious day we are blessed to have in our midst one who learnt her smith craft in the Blessed Ream of Aman, at the forge of Mahal!"
The crowd erupted with loud cheers, whistles, and stamping feet. Shar raised both arms to wave triumphantly at his fellow craftsmen. 'Twas undoubtedly another coup in his illustrious career. Helluin rolled her eyes, but bowed to the four compass points of the room, eliciting even louder applause. Eventually the noise fell to a level where the emeritus could again be heard.
"On this day, Helluin Maeg-mórmenel, Ghâshgûl, Úlairdacil, and Mórgolodh, shall offer a glimpse into the practice of iron forging as 'twas perfected in the Uttermost West. I bid ye now welcome our most noble ally of the Ages, Helluin of the Host of Finwë, the Butcher of Bruinen!"
Well, huh, Helluin thought, I haven't heard that one in a while.
Another round of applause, cheers, and stamping feet ensued, and then chants of "Butcher! Butcher! Butcher!" that continued on unbroken for a good few minutes. Shar smiled, waved to the crowd, and then hastened to take a seat in the front row. Helluin waved to the crowd with both hands clasped o'erhead, and then offered a deep and sweeping bow in the manner of the court of Gil-galad. Eventually, the hall grew quiet and all eyes stared at Helluin with vulturine intensity.
Having no other recourse, she strode to the pedestal and whipped the velvet off to reveal the meteorite. 'Twas a roughly triangular lump of iron with shallow depressions on all surfaces and dusted with a light patina of oxidation. A section had been cut from one side that Helluin reckoned had supplied material for the prior test. Hexagons were suggested by the fine lines etching the cut surface and its color was a dark grey. This made Helluin smile. She hefted the iron and guessed its weight to be 'nigh a half-stone. Reaching down and drawing the cut surface 'cross the floor left a dark grey streak on the white marble tile, and this too coaxed a smile from the Noldo.
Sky iron came in two primary types and mixtures of them. One type, lighter grey in color and producing a lighter streak might be from a fifth to two thirds nickel and was useless in its native form for making blades. The second type contained roughly a twentieth part nickel and would make great steel, for like all sky iron, 'twas more pure than iron smelted from terrestrial ores.
Helluin set the meteorite amidst the coals in the hearth, and after a few minutes of preheating, requested that the bellows be employed to intensify the heat. For the next minutes, she frequently checked the color of the metal as it became incandescent. Because the mass of the meteorite was great, it took longer to heat than a thin billet, but eventually it reached a proper yellow.
With a sturdy pair of tongs, Helluin lifted the glowing meteorite from the hearth and laid it on the anvil. At a nod, the hammer wielding Dwarves began striking the meteorite, sending forth showers of sparks. The Noldo turned the meteorite repeatedly as its color dropped from orange towards red. When the effect of the hammering slowed, she returned it to the hearth and allowed it to reheat amidst the coals. The process was repeated several times 'til a tongue had been formed, protruding from one side, and then with a broad chisel, she cut the tongue away and set the remainder of the meteorite back on the hearth to one side of the coals.
Now the tongue weighed a half pound and would provide a test of the metal's virtue. After several more cycles of heating and hammering, the tongue was drawn out to the general thickness of a blade. One final time, Helluin heated the metal, and when it had reached the working temperature, she withdrew her test piece and allowed it to cool fully.
Having ensured that the steel's grain was uniform and the stresses acquired during all the hammering and drawing had been relieved, 'twas heated once more and when it had reached the familiar yellow glow, 'twas taken in the tongs and quenched in the barrel of oil. After 'twas withdrawn from the hardening quench, its cooling was completed in the slack tub.
All the smiths watched closely as Helluin took the cooled steel from the water and set it upon the anvil. From a rack, she selected a file and drew it 'cross an edge. They nodded to themselves as they heard that it rang not, but partially bit. The test piece had not attained a proper hardness, and just as their own earlier attempts had failed, so too Helluin's test had failed to create a hardenable steel. Helluin nodded to herself. The test told her that the meteoritic iron contained more nickel and less carbon than optimal. She set the test aside and directed that the remainder of the meteorite be placed back into the coals to heat.
During the time the meteorite took to heat, the Noldo examined the contents of the bins, and with a critical eye, chose several billets of steel. These she took one by one to the anvil and tested them with the file and a hammer. By ear, she assessed the sounds produced by filing and striking. Finally, she selected one, a long, rectangular bar of hard, high carbon steel weighing roughly a pound. This she set into the coals.
By then, the meteorite was again approaching yellow heat, and when the color was sufficient, the process of drawing out a tongue of metal was repeated. Again, a piece of meteoritic iron weighing roughly a half pound was cleaved off. This she heated and drew out and shaped 'til 'twas in size the same length, but only half the width of the billet. When the high carbon steel was hot, she chiseled it in half lengthwise, and on the next cycle of heating and forming, sandwiched the strip of sky iron 'twixt the two pieces of carbon steel. This triple bar was hammered flat and then reheated to yellow. At each heating, 'twas folded and hammered out again, resulting in the accumulation of layers. After each pair of foldings, the billet was reheated and then allowed to cool to relieve stress. With each fold, the count of layers doubled, and after four repetitions, the forge welded billet contained forty-eight layers.
Now with the billet pattern welded, the forming of the blade began. Through cycles of drawing, shaping, destressing, and reheating, the shape of the dagger took form. Helluin's original dagger had been a long leaf shape, traditional for the Noldor in Aman eight thousand years aforetime, but the weapon she forged now would be lighter, quicker in her hand, and just as deadly.
A straight-sided blade of fifteen inches grew from a tang of six inches length. At the base, just past where the guard would be placed, the width was an inch and a half, and its profile tapered evenly to a bitter point. Narrow enough was that blade that it required a fuller for only a third of its length, and beyond, a simple ridgeline running to the tip. During its shaping, Helluin had created some distal taper, a gradual thinning of the metal from hilt to tip. After a final cycle of heating and air-cooling, Helluin placed the blade into the annealing furnace to cool slowly and soften o'er the next three hours.
"I deem 'tis time for lunch," she announced to the throng as she stripped off her apron.
In a moment, the Dwarves leapt up from their seats and charged for the doors. She knew better than to try to navigate amidst that rout. Within three minutes, the hall was emptied. Helluin dipped a rag in the slack tub, laved the sweat from her face and rubbed the soot from her hands. Finally, she took her leave of the hall, for as in the time when King Khráin son of Kûrin had adjourned his audience after hearing Ishkabibúl's rede, she knew of a dining hall that she hoped was still in business.
On an avenue close by, Helluin smiled when she saw a familiar sign proclaiming The Spitted Orch. She had last eaten there in S.A. 2995. She had first eaten there thirteen centuries ere that. As soon as she passed the door, clad in her black armor and standing two heads taller than any other patron, well 'nigh e'ery head in the dining room was turned to her. The Noldo looked back at them in growing astonishment as, table-by-table, the diners rose to their feet and began clapping. Whispers of ''tis the Butcher', 'look, the Mórgolodh', 'the Ghâshgûl comes to dine', and "Úlairdacil again', came to her ears. Many raised their mugs to her in toast. She could but stifle her surprise and offer them a bow in return.
A trio of servers converged on Helluin, seemingly eager to vie for her business, yet 'twas as a group that they led her to a small table at the back of the room. Amazingly, it stood on legs taller than any table meant to serve the Naugrim, as did the two benches facing each other, one on either side. A stunned Helluin was urged to take the bench facing the door.
"We have long prepared for thy return, my most honored guest," one said after a deep bow.
"It hath been many centuries, yet e'er we have looked to thy coming," said another.
"The very name of this establishment came from tales of thy prowess long ago," said the third.
Helluin looked from one to the next, flabbergasted that they had reserved a table for her for the past two thousand years. 'Round them, the other diners reclaimed their seats and continued their meals. The buzz of laughter and conversation resumed as a cheery din.
Finally, she managed to say, "I thank ye, my most gracious hosts. 'Tis my honor to dine again in this fine establishment. I have fond memories of past meals taken here and look forward to the delicious fare."
"And we can hardly believe our good fortune to host thee again, Mórgolodh," the first server said as he laid a menu on the table.
"Perhaps thou would care for a mug of ale whilst deciding thy choices?" The second server asked. He set a lap cloth and silverware at her place.
"Aye, a mug of ale would be most welcome, my friend. In my old age, a morning at the forge is thirsty work," she said as she opened the first page of the menu.
"I shall return with it straightaway," the third server said as he peeled off.
"And we shall return shortly to take thy order," the first said, ere he and the second server took their leave, though Helluin marked them watching her closely from a distance for the slightest sign of her readiness to name her selections.
Now the menu contained literally hundreds of dishes, but 'twas mostly based on a few dozen preparations of each of a few dozen kinds of meats. Thafar'abbad Khufshkarâl, the bat sausages of the Grey Mountains for example, could be had roasted, broiled, braised, simmered in the spinal fluid of any of several mammals, (with or without potatoes, onions, or carrots). 'Twas offered cut into bite-sized pieces and incorporated into a score of soup bases and stews. It could be minced, marinated, and roasted on skewers as kababs, ground and roasted to be presented on a split roll, or as a filling in steamed buns. The offerings were repeated for each of the many animals raised or hunted east or west of the mountains. Helluin deemed that some, such as roast breast of Eagle in seven spices and Troll nuts au jus were probably fanciful. Notably, there were no salads.
After leafing through the first dozen pages, the Noldo decided that 'aught she could imagine was possible. She closed and set the menu on the table. A glance to the servers revealed them already in mid-stride, approaching her table.
"Hast thou decided the course of thy meal, my most noble guest?" The first server asked.
"The offerings of this esteemed establishment are comprehensive and I found all tempting, but as I must return to the Sixth Hall, I shall be restrained in my selections," Helluin said. "I should like to begin with a cup of creamy soup of ox tails and yellow onions, accompanied by crunchy spiced croutons." To this, the servers nodded in approval. "For the entrée, a chef's selection of grilled kababs of lamb, beef, and chickens on skewers, some marinated in spices and yoghurt, some flambéed with the strong spirits of wheat, and some accompanied with roasted potatoes and onions in flat breads. A loaf of thy hearty black bread with butter shall be greatly appreciated, and more of thy most refreshing ale. Dessert I shall take inspiration for from my stomach at the appropriate time."
The two servers had been furiously scribbling whilst the third had taken up her mug for a refill.
"'Tis a shame to be constrained by prior obligations," the second server said. "Still, thou shalt enjoy a satisfying if light luncheon, O Helluin."
The Noldo stifled a roll of her eyes as she had just ordered more food than she would normally have eaten in three days. Still, she would have felt guilty had she not at least attempted to dine in the fashion of her hosts, especially knowing of their great anticipation and long preparations for her visit. She dipped her head and gave them a smile to convey her great regret for not being able to explore their menu more thoroughly. They gave her looks of sympathy in response and then withdrew to convey her choices to the kitchen.
A mug of ale appeared moments later, and shortly after, the cup of soup, thick, rich, and redolent of onions, thyme, and beef. The Noldo added a handful of croutons from a dish, inhaling the scent of the herbs and butter. 'Twas delicious and Helluin slurped it down with many a sigh of satisfaction to declare her enjoyment of her first course. Nods of approval came from the closest diners and from the server who took away the cup 'nigh as soon as she set down her spoon. A second server brought a loaf on a cutting board and dish of butter.
Thereafter, a series of plates bearing meat kababs were served, each variation in triplicate on their firedogs, the notched ceramic stands 'cross which the skewers were laid and roasted. They were piping hot and the scents of spices and marinades wafted up to tempt Helluin's palate. She bit down on the savory morsels and slid them from the skewers with her teeth. Those bearing hunks of potato and chunks of onion interspersed with meats were consumed in the same fashion. The only respite was to cut and butter slices of dense, black bread, or take a pull from her mug. The servers watched o'er her, nodding in approval as she consumed all and sucked residual flavor from the wooden skewers.
After two thirds of an hour, Helluin felt bloated, but the döner kabab wrapped in flat bread was yet to come. These were akin to the 'gyrating sandwiches' save that they were smaller and served in threes, one each of beef, lamb, and chicken. The Noldo managed to finish nine in total, three made with each of three marinade and herb combinations. Alone, they would have fed a couple Perianin by her reckoning, but she stuffed them down to the last, finishing with the grim gusto of a contestant seeking to ingest the greatest count of sausages. Finally, she set down her utensils, released a sigh, and closed her eyes.
The plates and silverware were cleared from the table and her mug of ale refilled.
"And so now thou must long for dessert, my most esteemed guest," the first server declared with a broad smile. He and his two companions were elated at Helluin's display of appetite and her obvious relishing of their fare. Save for some lumps of gristle discreetly spat back onto the plates, she had consumed 'aught set before her in the very best tradition of their own people. Helluin stifled a groan at his words, the thought of dessert now wholly repulsive, yet she just could not bring herself to disappoint such eager and hospitable attendants.
"Yes, yes, what meal is truly complete should dessert go lacking?" She asked them as a rhetorical question to which all knew the answer. She feigned what enthusiasm she could, accompanying her simulacrum with a broad smile. The trio stood expectantly beside her table, nodding in agreement and hanging on her e'ery word.
"I shall have a tart stuffed with sweet blue berries, a second filled with a curd of melin saerin¹, and a third with the puree of strawberries." ¹(melin saerin, "bitter yellows" (lemons)= malen (yellow) + (pl. w/ int. vowel shift) + saer (bitter) + -in(pl. suff.) Sindarin)
"An excellent selection, my most esteemed guest," the first server said.
"I applaud thy taste, Mórgolodh, the melin saerin are my own favorite," said the second.
"We shall be but a moment," said the third.
True to his word, they reappeared in what seemed a heartbeat, bearing three dishes on which were enthroned her tarts. Helluin had barely the chance for a breath in their absence and certainly not the start of her digestion. She took up the fresh fork that had been laid on the table, tucked in the fresh lap cloth, and forced herself to consume the tarts one after another. When she was done, she took a final swig of ale and produced a large gold coin for the food and three smaller gold coins as gratuities. She deemed them fair payment for the meal and the service, but the first server pressed them back into her hand whilst shaking his head in refusal.
"In light of all thy service to our home o'er the course of many Ages, 'tis our honor to serve thee, O Helluin. Pray consider the meal a token of our appreciation. For years now, we have had 'naught to fear from Yrch in these mountains."
"Aye," said the second with a chuckle, "glad we would be to feed thee 'til thou burst."
The third server nodded, adding, "and provide thee ale 'til thou vomit."
"With the reduction of threats, more trade goes forth, greater wealth comes to our realm, and in any case, for a noble guest who dines here but once in a dozen centuries, we can afford to offer some victuals." He chuckled at that and Helluin joined him. "'Tis scant payment, we reckon, yet 'tis what we have to offer in trade."
Then Helluin bowed to the three servers, and said, "I offer thee thanks, my most honorable hosts. I shall recommend thy establishment to any who might ask, and I shall return as I can."
They bowed to her in return.
"We shall look to thy next coming, Mórgolodh, and a table shall await thee."
"I shall look to that day as well, my friends," she said, yet not for another millennium would she pass the doors of Khazad-dûm.
Now Helluin returned to the Sixth Hall and saw that many of the smiths had returned, yet many seats were still vacant. She went to the annealing furnace and checked on her dagger's progress. The incandescence had faded and the steel was dark, but still far too hot to touch. Her wait ere continuing was not yet done.
Thinking to use the time to best advantage, Helluin took a piece of high carbon bar and set it in the coals, and when it had come to yellow heat, she withdrew it with tongs and set it on the anvil. Then with many blows of a hammer, shaped it into a cross guard. The quillon block was squared at the center with quillons gently curving forward towards rounded tips. A slot for the tang she chiseled at its center, and after relieving the steel's stress, set it too in the annealing furnace. Last, she forged a ring pommel to balance the blade's weight, chiseled an opening through it for the tang, and set it into the furnace to soften.
Now by the time she had completed the forging of the cross guard and pommel, the blade had dropped sufficiently in temperature. The Noldo drew it from the furnace and cooled it in the slack tub. Once it could be held in bare hands, she clamped it upon a narrow wooden stage and began to refine its shape with files. The annealed steel was soft enough that the files easily bit, shaping the faces and profile of the blade, smoothing hammer marks, and defining the ridgeline. A pile of filings grew on the floor 'neath the stage, and soon enough, the shaping of the blade was done.
Being smaller in mass, the cross guard was the next piece to be fully annealed. Helluin applied the same process of refinement to it, and last, to the pommel. Slender rectangular files refined the profiles of the throats for the tang, producing a tight fit that she repeatedly tested. Several more hours had passed during the process of cold shaping, but the result was that the steel components were needing only hardening, tempering, and polishing.
The Noldo returned the blade to the forge where it was reheated in the bed of coals. When it had acquired an even yellow incandescence, she lifted it with tongs and lowered it quickly and evenly into the barrel of oil. Fumes roiled up and the smell of vaporized oil could be smelt, but it lasted only moments, and then, ere it could cool too far, she lifted it from the oil and allowed it to air cool. The same process was applied to the cross guard and the pommel in turn. Afterwards, a file applied to the edges slid rather than bit, and produced a ringing sound rather than the growl of stock removal. The crowd of smiths murmured their approval. Save for the end of the tang where she had held it with the tongs, the steel was successfully hardened and would hold an edge, but 'twas now too brittle for use as a weapon.
The final heating process was the tempering. For this, the Noldo slowly reheated the blade and other parts in the annealing oven. She desired a temperature of two times that of boiling water. That heat was far 'neath any incandescence. To judge low temperatures, a smith relies on the visual perception of thin layer oxidation colors that cover the surface of the steel as the temperature increases. They begin with a faint yellow at 350°F and proceed through straw, brown, purple, blue, and finally to grey at 700°F.
Helluin slowly raised the temperature of the furnace, and when she saw the blush of yellow, she stopped increasing the heating. The furnace stabilized at a slightly higher temperature, the steel showed a straw hue, and there it remained for a quarter hour, based on the thickness of the blade, ere 'twas then allowed to cool.
O'er the course of that evening, a grip of wood was carved for the dagger, but this was done by a skilled craftsman of Khazad-dûm's Armorers' Guild. Helluin was occupied with a succession of five increasingly fine-grained water stones, sharpening the cutting edges of her dagger. When all was satisfactory and the honing done, the Noldo mounted the guard to the tang, then slid the grip on behind it, and last, attached the pommel.
Unlike the blade smiths of the Noldor and Sindar, or the weapon smiths of Men, she left the majority of her weapon unpolished. The dark grey of the tempered steel was wholly acceptable to Helluin and detracted not in the least from its function. Though t'would lack the virtue of revealing Yrch with a blue phosphorescence, she found herself quite happy with the new dagger, and having approved the fit of cross guard, grip, and pommel, took a hammer and peened o'er the end of the tang to lock all three in place. All that remained to do was to wrap the grip in textured grey cord that matched the hue of the steel. With the guard and pommel, the dagger weighed one and a quarter pounds and was twenty one inches in length.
Now after completing the assembly of her new dagger, Helluin gave a synopsis of her process for the benefit of the gathered smiths. The hardening of the blade was demonstrated by gouging a mild steel rod with several chopping blows that left the dagger's edge unmarred. The proper tempering of the blade was demonstrated by stabbing the tip into a log and then bending the blade to either side, after which it sprang back straight and true. Some questions were asked and answered, and during that time, a pair of artisans from Khazad-dûm's Sheather's Guild created a custom sheath with belt loops for carrying the weapon horizontally at the small of the back.
When all was said and done, Iron Smith Emeritus Shar rose and made closing remarks, and the demonstration ended with a standing ovation. Helluin bowed to the assembly, though she would have been happier to have spent the time working in a smithy deep in the city with no audience.
Three minutes later, the throng had fled the hall and all was still. Helluin looked 'round and saw that not a soul remained. Finally at liberty to roll her eyes at the day's events, she stripped off her apron, left it draped o'er the anvil, then donned her cloak, shouldered her travel bag ,and tied on her sword belt. Fully girded for travel, she began her walk back to the Azanulbizar Gate. She hoped that she still had a horse.
Being an Elda and requiring not the sleep of mortals was welcome to her now. Despite the hours of work at the forge, she still felt a need to walk off the huge meal she had eaten at The Spitted Orch. During that night, Helluin made her way east through halls and down avenues. Memory guided her and the miles slowly disappeared 'neath her boots. 'Nigh what might have been dawn above ground, she passed the seedy hotel wherein she had spent her first night in the city, and the 'Gyrating Sandwich' shop, the sight of which now well 'nigh made her gag.
Finally, she came to the House of Gneiss. Despite the early hour, she saw that the doors were open and so she proceeded into the lobby. A distinguished Dwarf that she had not met aforetime stood behind the reception desk, wearing robes bearing the emblems of the Guild of Smiths and the House of Gneiss. Upon seeing her enter, he came 'round the desk and bowed in greeting.
"The welcome of the House of Gneiss is extended to thee, Helluin Maeg-mórmenel of the Host of Finwë. I am Zizîustabu, Keeper of the Accounts and brother of Tulkh and Umrazugabshel."
Helluin had returned Zizîustabu's bow and now returned his greeting as well.
"'Tis my honor to meet thee, most noble Zizîustabu. Thou hast my thanks for thy welcome. I pray thy brothers are well?"
Here the Dwarf chuckled and said, "They are as well as can be hoped following the past night's excesses at table. I wager they shall sleep another few hours, waking only for lunch."
Helluin nodded in understanding and heard Zizîustabu mutter, "and all know that breakfast is the most important meal of the day." He saw Helluin looking at him and felt compelled to explain. "Early to bed and early to rise, makes a Dwarf healthy, wealthy, and wise. Late rising leaves many opportunities missed and dreams confer 'naught to treasury or craft."
Having been awake and walking through the night, Helluin nodded in agreement.
"I have come in hopes of receiving a commission completed, a ring restored after damage," she said.
Zizîustabu nodded gravely and said, "Indeed thy commission is complete, my most noble ally. I have it at the desk."
With that, he turned and led Helluin back to the reception desk. From 'neath it, he withdrew a small parcel and set it atop the desk. 'Twas a hinged, lidded box of black velvet, which she opened straightaway. Within lay Beinvír's ring, sparkling, bright, and unblemished, just as Uzrak Tulkh had promised. A foxtail chain of blackened mithril was threaded through the ring's shank.
"The chain is long enough that the ring shall lie hidden 'neath thy armor and the bodice of thy battle dress," Zizîustabu said.
The Noldo took the ring from the presentation case and draped the chain o'er her head. Sure enough, it hung in her cleavage and was not to be seen. In thanks, she set her hand o'er her heart and bowed deeply.
"Thou hast my sincere thanks, most noble Uzrak Zizîustabu. The work is all I could have hoped. Pray express my thanks to thy brothers, and to the artisans of thy house," she said.
"'Twas our pleasure, most noble ally of the Ages. I wish thee safe travels," he said. "Perhaps at thy next visit, Lord Durin will be able to meet with thee." He shook his head sadly and added, "Worry for the realm besets him and barely does he rest. The warnings of the Ring give him no peace. All feel for him and hope that his tranquility returns."
"As do I, my friend, pray offer him my regards," Helluin said. "I shall look with hope to our next meeting."
Helluin took her leave of Uzrak Zizîustabu, and throughout the remainder of that day continued walking east. Shrouded in her cloak and passing quickly with a stride longer than any in the crowds 'round her, she attracted no undo attention and halted not, nor engaged any of the citizens of the realm for any reason. Towards what might have been evening above ground, she crossed Durin's Bridge and came to the First Hall. She had been gone four days and was eager to recover Barq.
At the stables, the Noldo found that Barq was not only in good spirits, but somewhat increased in weight. He had been fed in the manner of the Naugrim, and now she marked that his manger held sweet hay, but a smaller trough held oats, which all horses appreciate too much for their own good. These were no problem. 'Twas the treat bucket that gave her pause. Along with fruit were pastries, cake, cookies, and griddle cakes damp with maple syrup. Leftovers or day old, she deemed them. Beside the water trough stood a bucket that had once held beer. Helluin groaned.
The stable master boasts that we eat as well as the inn's guests and I shall attest to that, Barq told her straightaway whilst looking her in the eyes. I find myself partial to ginger snaps and shortbread. Good ale is quite welcome too, though the stout is a bit strong for my taste. Pray tell, O Helluin, why we eat not so well upon the road?
None eat so well as those in Khazad-dûm, she replied silently. Perhaps on our next visit…
I should like very much to stay here again, he interrupted. I have not been rained on once in these halls of stone, or bitten by a single fly.
Helluin had first thought to visit Umrazudilinzillîn's common room for a meal, but instead, she settled her bill and led the Easterling horse from the stables. Charged with sugar, he well 'nigh danced his way up the stairs and into the entrance hall behind the gate.
Being as 'twas by then the early hours of the night of 30 Narbeleth, the Third Gate Company was on duty. Helluin found them standing at attention, lining the approach to the gate, and when she came 'nigh, they saluted and then bowed deeply. Helluin returned their bow.
"Farewell, Helluin Maeg-mórmenel," the sergeant of the company said as she passed, "may good fortune and victory follow in thy footsteps, most noble ally of the Ages."
"Farewell to thee, noble sergeant," Helluin replied, "may the sons of Durin be blessed by Mahal to live long and prosper."
The sentries followed her out of the Azanulbizar gate and kept watch on her as she mounted and rode south down the Dwarf Road towards Lórinand and the crossroads. She and Barq set an easy pace 'neath the stars. The night was chill and a cold breeze blew down from Caradhras and Celebdil. To their left lay the long Mirrormere, and Helluin marked the rime of ice along its shore and clinging to Durin's Stone, condensed of moisture from the falls along the upper Celebrant.
The mountain air is chill, O Helluin, Barq noted, how far shalt we come this night, pray tell?
I deem it prudent to come at least 'neath the tress and out of the wind. That should be 'nigh six leagues from the gate. The crossroad lies seven leagues down Nanduhirion, ere the branching of Celebrant and Nimrodel.
Barq turned back to the road, nodding his understanding of Helluin's plan. They were still high up in the valley and the vista opened up before them, dark but hinting at the Golden Wood that lay in the lowlands to the east. Ithil's crescent and the starlight were more than sufficient for the horse to find his way down the paved track with no direction from Helluin. Still energized from the sugar in his treats, he broke into a trot and then a canter. The miles passed 'neath his hooves and after three hours, they came 'neath the trees, ash, elm, sycamore, alder, birch, rowan, and bird cherry, though all were bereft of leaves now at the end of autumn. Still, the trunks and branches broke the wind and the air was less chill.
Shall we not continue a bit further, O Helluin? Barq asked. I deem 'tis not yet midnight and I could continue yet a while. Indeed, I crave to run.
Helluin broke from her ruminations on the long journey ahead.
I give thee thy head and defer to thy desires, O Barq. Thou shalt certainly not run out of road. At the crossroad, pray turn north.
The Easterling horse gave her a nod and continued at a canter 'neath the trees. Soon enough, they came to the crossroad and there Barq took a left. Helluin looked o'er the land there where the trading party of Dwarves had died and Beinvír had disappeared. After so many years, it looked like e'ery other piece of wooded land and she marked 'naught to draw attention. They passed the scene in a few heartbeats and Helluin settled back into her meditation on their course.
Whither then are we bound, O Helluin?
North, O Barq. Two days hence we shall take the eastward track down to the Old Ford of Anduin, there to cross the river.
So we return whence we came?
Aye, and further after. Perhaps even shalt thou revisit some lands known to thee aforetime.
Uh-huh, Barq muttered. Helluin, those were not nice places. I have come to prefer the west.
As do I, my friend, yet now there are some I seek in the east, foes certainly, and hopefully old friends as well. I have wondered of late as to their welfare.
I see, he said, figuratively, and these friends, thou hast met with them recently?
'Tis all relative, I suppose, she hedged, to which Barq rolled his eyes. Oh alright, she admitted, it hath been 'nigh a thousand years.
Barq immediately came to a halt, well 'nigh unseating the Noldo.
Helluin, much has changed in that time. Think thou that thy friends still abide thither?
Though she had not doubted it aforetime, Barq's query forced her to reconsider. Finally though, she reached a conclusion.
Like me, they are deathless, and I know one is certainly a most tenacious survivor.
To Be Continued