In An Age Before – Part 228
Being unlike mortal Men, rather than sleeping that night, the Green Elves spent their off-duty hours making fresh bread using the flour they had taken from the storeroom in Moria. Having been kept in a metal bin with a close fitting lid, rather than in sacks or in an open granary as is the custom of Men, the flour was dry, unspoiled, and best of all, free of weevils. They found the sauce of apples and some pots of honey enhanced their enjoyment a hundred-fold, especially when accompanied by hastily crushed preserved fruit. 'Twas all they could have hoped for and all they had long missed on their deployment at the gates.
There had been only a single real mishap. Unused to tents, or any such contrived outdoor shelters, some of the Laiquendi had decided to cook their dough o'er a trench fire they had kindled inside a tent. Of course, it caught fire and burnt to the ground, but the fire was brief, none were injured, and they all had a good laugh o'er it in the end. By mid-morning of the 12th, they were happily sated and taking their ease in the shadows of the tents when Dálindir's company and General Tórferedir arrived. The king and his general were so shocked at what they found that for a while, they could but stare 'round and sputter in amazement.
Before them, plainly visible 'neath the morning sun, a dozen tents, (minus one whose burnt remains were still to be seen), had been arranged in haphazard fashion 'nigh the Sirannon. Absolutely no effort at all had been made to camouflage them. The canvas structures were only a bit o'er five feet in height, fine for the Naugrim, but a foot or more too low for Elvish habitation. Most were stacked with bundled firewood, the remainder with preserved foodstuffs and bedding. In the shadows cast by their walls, Green Elves lounged beside smoldering trench fires, some of them cooking a few final flatbreads from the remaining dough. The columns of smoke were easily marked. Empty metal canisters lay scattered 'round on the ground, for the Laiquendi had ne'er aforetime been faced with the need to dispose of such artificial refuse.
Straightaway, the four new arrivals strode up to where Helluin and Gwilolrán were measuring out coils of rope whilst the archers on duty covered the half-shut doors with their bows in a distracted and light-hearted fashion. It seemed that discipline had gone right out the window.
"Lieutenant! What goes forth in so disgraceful a fashion? Thy camp is a travesty! In all my years, ne'er have I witnessed such a shameful dereliction of duty. Come, explain thyself at once!" Tórferedir thundered at his lieutenant.
Gwilolrán leapt to his feet, bludgeoned to speechlessness by his commanding officer's tongue-lashing. The general stood nose to nose with him, hands on his hips and fire in his eyes. Beside him, his king stood fuming, staring 'round and finally casting his eyes on him with a most severe expression of disappointment. Celegaras and Gérorn looked anywhere save at him, obviously both astonished and embarrassed at the painfully awkward display.
"The doors yet stand agape," Dálindir said. "Dost thou believe the threat of yonder udûngaw relieved?"
"I…we…" Gwilolrán began, but further words died on his bone-dry tongue.
"Say on, lieutenant," Tórferedir demanded, examining him with squinting eyes and a grim set to his lips.
"My lords, in truth, he bears but minimal fault, for much has come to pass o'er the last day and a half," Helluin told them in a calming tone. "During that time, we have examined the hall behind the gate, its associated chambers, and the tunnel leading hence, and we have found no trace of foes. We have created a plan to close the West Gate and a means for my escape after, and we have procured much preserved food and firewood from within. The tents are simply for storage of such against possible detrimental weather."
"But e'erything is visible," Dálindir said, waving his hands 'round in upset. "This looks to be more a camp of Sindar on holiday than a military deployment of Laiquendi. I see my people lounging in the open, refuse strewn 'cross the ground, and fires visibly burning. 'Tis not our way…"
"I beg thy indulgence, lord. Pray follow me so that I may explain our plan," Helluin said, gesturing to the lee of a tent standing 'nigh, but out of easy earshot of those lounging about.
After a pause for consideration, several deep and calming breaths, and finally a deep sigh, Dálindir nodded and followed Helluin into the shade. Tórferedir, Gérorn, and Celegaras followed, loath to miss her rede and expecting 'twas 'naught that she could say to stay their king's wrath. A sharp look from the general stayed Gwilolrán from joining them.
The Noldo took a seat and selected a couple metal canisters from a stack. These she opened by slitting the seams 'round their tops with the tip of her dagger. From within, she speared a peach half, dripping with syrup, and took a bite. She then passed the fruit to the king who sniffed it, gave her a questioning look, but at her nod, chanced a bite. A rapturous look crossed his face and he finished off the peach ere returning the Noldo's blade. She then speared a half pear from the other canister and after proving it wholesome by taking a bite, passed it to Dálindir. This time, he paused not but bit into it straightaway. Helluin set the two canisters before the rest of the company and watched as they dug in, each using his own knife.
As they ate, she offered them her tidings of the recent time since her coming to the gates.
"Upon my arrival, I found all things as they e'er are, hidden archers covering the open doors, those off duty invisible, and 'naught to be seen of the camp. Morale was low, 'twixt the stress of a long anticipated attack of unknown type and time, and the sheer boredom of so long a deployment with no resolution in sight."
Dálindir and Tórferedir nodded, agreeing with and understanding her assessment of the troops. The post was tedious and stressful. No soldier enjoyed the wait ere a battle, and this wait had gone on for decades.
"After arriving in the evening of the 10th, I chanced a look inside Khazad-dûm and found 'naught of threat or foes. As expected, the doors are easily to be pushed closed from within and they stand half-closed now. In addition, I discovered great store of provisions to ease the deployment should it continue hereafter. Having brought forth some samples, I then enlisted aid in returning during daylight of the 11th and gathering such as might be of value. The resulting elevation of troop morale alone I deem worthwhile. The firewood shall save many days of labor for the gathering of a locally dwindling resource."
"Dost thou claim that our soldiers entered Moria?" Tórferedir asked, incredulous.
"Aye," Helluin said, "the hundred not on duty at that time ventured in as volunteers. Indeed, I reckon t'would have been hard to stay them. Afterwards, they actually felt sorry for those who entered not."
The general shook his head in amazement. Even in times of peace, his people had been loath to step foot within the West Gate. To go willingly, even for an hour or two, into Moria now was difficult to believe…and yet, 'twas no way that Helluin had brought forth all the supplies that they could clearly see, even with Gwilolrán's aid. He suspected that the Golodh had bewitched his archers, but could not for the life of him figure out how. Howe'er, the lieutenant, he already deemed a lost cause.
Whilst the newcomers had ruminated in amazement, Helluin had beckoned o'er one of the archers lying beside a fire and requested fresh bread for the king and his general. The ellon had bowed and taken his leave with a spring in his step.
Gérorn had watched the exchange, impressed that the Noldo was now setting tasks for his people as the Elf kneaded fresh dough and then set it o'er the trench to which one of his comrades had added some wood. Soon enough he returned with fresh baked bread, a pot of honey, and what his nose judged to be a sauce of apples. The archer seemed quite proud to serve his king and the rest of the company the warm, fragrant products of his baking.
As they ate, their amazement making the food all the tastier, Helluin continued her report.
"With nightfall of the 11th, I returned to Moria whither I had discerned a trio of light shafts set into the ceiling of the mess hall. They are as unbranched mineshafts, bored straight through solid rock, usually at a slight angle to better foil the impingement of rainfall, and cut all the way to the surface. In e'ery case that I have seen, the openings are in isolated places well away from any paths or trails at ground level. The Gonnhirrim reckoned them a source of prestige, for they value light and fresh air, hard as that may be to believe."
The general and the king's company nodded to her as they chewed with gusto. Being a people abiding in no permanent homes, fresh-baked goods were hard to come by, requiring both an oven and flour. They were most oft items to be bartered for with local Men. The light shafts they had ne'er heard of aforetime, nor even suspected. They had believed that the Dwarves cared little for light beyond its necessity to illuminate their grand, rock-hewn halls and smithies.
"Yesternight, whilst Gwilolrán and his off-duty archers kept watch, I returned to the mess hall and lit the openings in the ceiling with the Light of my fëa. My hope that such might reveal the outer openings of the shafts was rewarded, for all outside marked their positions on the face of the cliff. By daylight this morn, we have become sure of which is most easily to be reached from without. Thither, I shall set a steel brace and then a rope of sufficient length to reach down to the mess hall. After entering and closing the Ennin Durin, I shall climb out through the light shaft to reach the surface."
The sheer audacity of the plan Helluin had outlined struck the Green Elves as daring to the point of recklessness, if t'were not the product of outright madness. To voluntarily lock oneself inside of Moria, with its endless darkness 'neath an incalculable weight of rock, and then to attempt to climb to freedom up the inside of a shaft hundreds of feet high, whilst trusting to a rope that had lain in storage for o'er two decades, was incomprehensible. They actually ceased chewing to stare at her. Their doubts were so clearly writ upon their faces that Helluin scarce needed a moment's contemplation to understand their thought.
"I remind you that from within, escape back out the gate is always possible. I would simply need to pull the doors open from within and walk outside," she claimed. "As for the darkness, I, or any who have dwelt in Aman, can produce sufficient Light to find my way. I have already spent several hours within Moria and felt no threat. I deem there is 'naught to fear."
Her explanation sounded so reasonable that the Laiquendi were inclined to doubt her yet more. 'Twas the hallmark of the deluded to convincingly rationalize their fantasies. Still, 'twas not as if they could stay her, and if by some chance her plan should work, they would have then achieved so much as was presently possible to reduce the threat of Moria. Finally, Dálindir nodded in acceptance.
"As thou art confident in thy plan, Helluin, how shall we aid thee? What wouldst thou have of us to advance thy efforts?"
Tórferedir began to open his mouth as if he would protest, but in the end, he held his peace and deferred to his king with a slight dip of his head. Celegaras and Gérorn sat silent, their eyes fixed on Helluin.
"At thine arrival, Lieutenant Gwilolrán and I were appraising the condition and yardage of the rope," she said. "From the positions of the openings to the light shafts that he shared from his memories, I deem the centermost to be the one to which climbers may come with the least hazard. By the use of applied trigonometries, I have calculated that its height upon the cliff face is fifty-seven fathoms¹. From a storeroom in Moria, we have acquired o'er a hundred twenty ells of rope, more than a sufficient length." ¹(fifty-seven fathoms = 342 feet = 91.2 ells, roughly equivalent to a modern 32 story building.)
The Green Elves built no permanent structures requiring any calculation as was practiced in the architectures of the High Elves, the Sindar, the Dúnedain, or the Rhûnwaith. Their use of numbers was limited to the practical counting of objects set before them, the designation of distances to be recalled, and the tallying of dates by the passage of days, years, and so on. Deriving an unknown third variable from two known quantities was a foreign concept to them and they deemed it magick. Yet they could understand the value of knowing if one had enough rope ere attempting a climb.
"So thou require the continued assistance of Gwilolrán for a time?" Dálindir asked.
"Aye, and later, some few to aid in reaching the opening upon the cliff face. I shall have sixty fathoms of rope to carry and a bar of steel eight feet in length to anchor it with," Helluin explained. "I wager a company of a half-dozen besides myself shall suffice."
To her rather modest requests, the king nodded in agreement after but a moment's consideration. If the loan of the lieutenant and five archers would accomplish the sealing of the West Gate of Moria, 'twas worthwhile to him and besides, he was wroth with them at present.
"Very well, Helluin. Pray finish thy preparations and I shall leave it to Gwilolrán to select those who shall climb the cliff. He knows best thy needs and the capabilities of his warriors," the king said, whilst looking 'round at the lounging archers with a sour expression.
Helluin dipped her head to Dálindir in thanks and said, "pray enjoy the spoils of our foray into Moria whilst the details of my plan are attended, my friends. Besides the fresh bread, there are several varieties of preserved fruit, pickled vegetables, and grains to thicken soups or make gruel."
The Noldo retreated from the rather awkward council as rapidly as she could without offering offense, having seen that the offer of food seemed to mollify Dálindir and Tórferedir somewhat. At least they were no longer seething, and perhaps Gwilolrán could preserve his position as well, especially if her plan succeeded. She went to the lieutenant straightaway and marked the grim look of foreboding on his face as she approached.
"Fear not, my friend, for they sought not to take thy head as yet," she told him. At his look of relief, she added a non-committal, "maybe later," and then stifled a grin as she saw him blanch.
"They have ne'er been so wroth with me," Gwilolrán said, "not in 'nigh five thousand years. I should be little surprised if they banish me to Dunland."
"Bah," said Helluin. "With my explanation, a can of fruit and some fresh-baked bread they are half-placated already. After we succeed in closing the Wast Gate of Moria, they shall proclaim thee a hero. I should not be surprised if they carry off some of the firewood as well."
He gave her a hopeful look, though he hardly believed he would so easily go from knave to hero. Still, the thought was better than having to sidestep Dunlendings day after day.
"Come, meldir nín," she said, "let us finish with the ropes, and thereafter I would ask that thou choose the five amongst thy company who are best at rock climbing."
He nodded to her and began to think of which five of his archers were most surefooted upon bare rock as he examined the coils of rope for fraying, loose strands, or the least sign of rotting. Foot by foot the rope passed 'twixt their fingers as the afternoon passed. Foot by foot they deemed the rope admirably preserved.
A glance to the shade beside the tent whither Helluin had left Dálindir, Tórferedir, Celegaras, and Gérorn revealed the four sharing another can of fruit and eating more fresh bread. They were sharing speech and laughter, and Helluin deemed Gwilolrán's redemption right on track.
By the evening, the rope had been checked, the good lengths culled of a few sub-standard sections, and sixty fathoms set aside in six coils. Gwilolrán had decided his choice for the five archers who would accompany them on their climb and they determined to set out in the second hour after dawn the next morn. By then, they reckoned the cliff face would be sufficiently lit for safe climbing. Even so, they generously gave themselves 'til noon for the ascent and return.
At the opening of the middle light shaft, Helluin intended to place the steel spit 'cross the rectangular window and affix the rope to it. Once the top end of the rope was secure, she could lower it down the shaft in preparation for her escape. The plan was simple, direct, and they could foresee no problems with it, which meant that they should have expected complications.
Now in 1994, Helluin, with Maglor, the Ithryn Luin, and the allies of Rhûn had successfully assailed Sauron's redoubt in the east. On 15 Urui they had slain Ungolúróg, the great spider daemon, slaughtered the fifty-odd thousand Wainriders gathered to defend the fortress of Sheol, and then driven off the Dark Lord himself. Six days later, the allies had detonated Sheol, destroying it utterly and leaving only a flaming crater behind. In the nine years since, ere Helluin took her leave of Rhûn, no sign of Sauron had been reported after he had fled west as a black cloud. Whither he had gone was unknown, a troublesome uncertainty for the Noldo and all her allies.
Upon her return to Imladris, Helluin had learnt that Minas Ithil had fallen to the Nazgûl only a year past. The Nine had come from Mordor o'er the Ephel Dúath with a host of Yrch and Tor, and they had invested the city so quickly that King Eärnil II had been unable to muster a defense. In the narrow, steep-walled vale of Imlad Ithil, the army of Gondor had been unable to break the siege. There, many of the Southern Dúnedain had fallen.
To both sides of the narrow Imlad Ithil where ran the road leading to the city's gate, sheer cliffs rose to constrain the battlefield whilst the lowland 'twixt them had been held in strength by the enemy. The northern cliffs featured a single trail of sickening verticality, the invasion route out of the Black Land whereon had been stationed many Orkish archers, just as the Rangers of Ithilien had manned it aforetime during the Great War. The Ringwraiths had known their history, and they had known the topography and the city's defenses in detail. As a result, their campaign had been a complete success.
Yet the Nazgûl were the servants of a greater master and they did not initiate a campaign without orders. All that Tindomul had accomplished in Angmar had been at Sauron's direction. Helluin had no doubts that after fleeing the east, Gorthaur had charged his nine ghosts to test the strength of the Sough Kingdom by assailing Isildur's city. They had struck hard and upon a sudden, reclaiming Minas Ithil that they had taken in the opening days of the War of the Last Alliance, and there they had reapt a great prize from the weakened realm of Gondor.
Since hearing Elrond's tidings, Helluin had ceaselessly pondered Sauron's location. Did he yet abide in Mordor, o'erseeing his Ringwraiths and ruling all from the Black Land? Did he spend his days now surveying the tribulations of his enemies through the palantír? Elrond had not claimed that the Barad-dûr had begun to rise again, but then, neither had the Peredhel spoken of the Ennin Durin standing open as they had for the past twenty-two years. On the other hand, perhaps the Lord of Lies had taken refuge in the crumbling fortress of Dol Guldur instead. Did he haunt that blight atop Amon Lanc? Yet if a fell presence had again taken up residence there, surely Celeborn and Galadriel would have sensed it and tidings would have come to Imladris from Lórinand. But again, Elrond had said 'naught and Helluin had been left to live in suspense.
In fact, Sauron had fled the east as his plans for Minas Ithil neared fruition. His breeding programs for the Yrch and Tor were approaching the count required for the invasion force. So in order to minimize any chance of that plan being revealed untimely, he had stayed far from Mordor lest his enemies had followed him west. Instead, he had gone to Dol Guldur, knowing that the attentions of the Wise would soon be focused on Gondor. At the abandoned fortress in Mirkwood, he resumed his supervision of a search already long in progress.
Within a year after his return, of which he allowed no rumor to spread, he was presiding o'er a tidy company of terrified Yrch and Wargs. These he tasked with a treasure hunt, and upon pain of death they were to leave not a single inch of Anduin's banks and bed unexamined. He cared not if the task consumed generations of their kind and they readily sought to fulfill his commands, thereby to better improve their chances for survival. In searching the river, they were freed from abiding with him in Dol Guldur, for all knew that his meat suits constantly needed replacing. From this terror, not even the Wargs were immune, for Sauron would wear the head of a Warg as comfortably as the head of an Orch.
There were also some few mounted companies that he sent further afield on 'special errands'. Their orders were secret, but ere a few years had passed, 'twas common knowledge that these companies of Warg riders were being sent to Khazad-dûm. That notion was terrifying to the Yrch. The Naugrim had been their hereditary foes for Ages and the thought of confronting them in their own mansions was suicidal. Yet 'twas also whispered that some unknown power had driven the Dwarves hence, and the thought of confronting that power in its own mansions was even worse. Most suspected that the unnamed bane was in fact the Ghâshgûl that had plagued the Hithaeglir aforetime and had now returned, so indiscriminately bloodthirsty that Dwarves as well as Yrch had become its victims, and because of this belief, many companies deserted. A few had tried to go o'er the Caradhras Pass to take refuge in Eriador, but straightaway they were slain by hidden archers. 'Twas hardly a surprise, for all knew that those lands had been haunted from of old.
The hapless companies of Warg riders sent thither were ordered to seek and gather for their master, all such wealth of mithril as they could find, and if possible, to make alliance with Durin's Bane. They were sent 'cross the river on rafts rather than riding all the way north to the Old Ford. Half the way upriver to the Gladden Fields, they launched their carelessly constructed craft. The current invariably carried them south, but if they were fortunate, they would not come ashore 'nigh Lórinand. Rather, they were to find the way leading to the mouth of a valley north of Fanuidhol, so to reach a less known path that ran through the long valley 'twixt Cloudyhead's western slopes and the east face of Caradhras. There they would be hidden from any on the Dwarf Road or in the Golden Wood, and so come unseen to Nanduhirion and the Azanulbizar Gate where they could enter Moria.
"That shall be thy road, my loyal servant," the Dark Lord told the cowering leader of a company of Warg riders, "and I wager thou hast one chance in seven."
"One chance in seven of finding mithril and returning, master?" The terrified Orch asked, unable to bear even looking upon his master's figure of quilted body parts topped at that time with its yawning and decomposing Warg head.
"One chance in seven of reaching Moria," Sauron clarified. "Yet great reward thou shalt have should thou succeed and return," he promised. "Those who fail win only the boon of death."
"I shall bring thee the wealth of Moria, my master," the Orch said, for what else could he say? If he failed, at least he could die and not become a wight or part of a meat suit.
Sauron nodded to the Orch and then dismissed him with a clumsy gesture of a dead hand that flopped and dribbled corpse juice. The Orch fled, oblivious to the water that had run down his legs. He and his company of two dozen mounted their Wargs and rode out immediately lest their master change his mind. At least they had one chance in seven of reaching Moria. He deemed anything beyond that would be a gift.
In Dol Guldur, Sauron was growing e'er more curious about the power that had slain the Dwarf lords and driven their people from their ancient mansions. Khazad-dûm had been a thorn in his side for Ages, a haven and retreat for his foes, and a source of opposition in the time of his campaign against Eregion. If he could but make an ally of the new lord of the realm 'neath the Hithaeglir, he would have both access and security in future campaigns against the west. The thought of denying the flight of the Elves by burning Círdan's haven on the Lune always prompted a smile. Downfallen Númenor was long gone and no aid would come now that Arthedain was destroyed. Closer though, Lórinand would be jeopardized like ne'er aforetime and soon obliterated, allowing him free access to both banks of Anduin.
From the day he had learnt of Isildur's fate, the Dark Lord had rejoiced and then resolved to find his Ring amidst the rushes and flotsam lining the river. 'Twas simply a matter of time ere his servants brought him a mighty prize.
Now on 18 Cerveth, the Warg riders reached a place where the east bank of Anduin sloped down to the water 'cross several yards of mud and gravel. A wood grew close to the water and they could see the hewn stumps of saplings used by previous companies for raft building. Cursing because they were forced to hack down trees growing further inland, they spent two nights constructing a half-dozen treacherous platforms of lashed trunks.
Just after nightfall of the 20th, the company launched their untrustworthy craft, and with much whining from the Wargs, and much grumbling and cursing from the Yrch, clumsily paddled 'cross Anduin. Being summer, the river's volume was as low as t'would e'er be and the current dragged them south less than they had feared. They made landfall well north of Lórinand, slit the thongs holding their rafts together, and dumped the trunks into the current to remove any trace of their crossing. Ere they hid from the sun at dawn, they had come fifty miles inland. The eastern slopes of the Misty Mountains lay some forty miles ahead.
Another night's ride brought them to the head of the valley stretching south behind Fanuidhol. As Helluin lay unconscious from tidings-shock in Imladris, the Warg pack loped swiftly o'er the coarse terrain and into the mountain valley. They came only a couple miles ere taking refuge for the day 'neath an o'erhanging ledge. There the Yrch spent the hours of daylight grumbling and quarreling, whilst the Wargs lay at rest, well separated and looking like no more than a couple dozen boulders on the valley floor.
Other than a family of pikas that the Wargs snatched up and fought o'er at dawn, then ate away from the Yrch, they saw 'naught living and considered that a good omen. They only hoped that their luck held, for the valley ran seventy miles to Nanduhirion and would take them two nights of travel to reach the far end. Foremost, they hoped to escape detection by the meddlesome Eagles that were not above stooping and plucking a few of them for their own meals. In the valley, there was no place to hide and the leader began to better understand his one in seven odds of reaching Moria.
Now despite seeing an Eagle as a distant dark speck circling north of the Redhorn on their second morn, the Warg riders arrived at Nanduhirion just ere dawn on 25 Cerveth. Rather than entering Moria immediately, they hunkered down amidst the deep shadows to the side of the lower falls of the Dimrill Stair. There they spent the day and then entered the East Gate after dark. 'Twas prudence that guided their actions, for they knew not what awaited them within Khazad-dûm. They had not wanted to risk having to flee back out into sunlight.
As they had hoped, they found the gate undefended and the hall behind it deserted. Having solid rock and the permanent darkness of subterranean halls 'round them was so welcome that it wrung a sigh of relief from them all. They had beaten Sauron's one in seven odds and arrived at Moria. Granted, the Dwarf halls were far different from their own warrens and lairs, but they were far more comforting than open land. As lust of treasure began to replace their fear of becoming Eagle fodder, they went forward with a minimum of quarreling. Riding their Wargs, the company was actually quieter than they would have been afoot, cursing and stomping along as their ill-fitting boots chaffed their feet raw. They passed the gate hall, descended a broad case of stairs, and entered a vast hall whose cloven floor was spanned by a narrow, arched bridge hewn from solid rock.
At the foot of Durin's Bridge they paused. Only a dim, ruddy glow illuminated the hall. Well accustomed to seeing in near darkness, the Yrch carefully scanned the space, for 'twas the perfect setting for an ambush. Once upon that narrow span, they would be completely exposed, easily marked as sitting targets for archers on the far side. For so long as their patience held, they sat silently astride their Wargs seeking for any hint of enemies, yet they marked 'naught.
Finally, deeming that what they could not see could not see them, the leader charged three of his company to cross first. The rest sat back, laying odds and making wagers whilst waiting to see if they would be shot after all. The trio crossed in haste, so to minimize their jeopardy, and they came safely to the far side with many sighs of relief. Ere the rest could begin fighting o'er collecting on their bets, the commander ordered them all to cross straightaway and they edged forward onto the bridge.
Now when he crossed third from last, the commander felt heated air rising from the depths 'neath the bridge. The updraft brought the faint scents of sulfur and burnt rock to his nostrils. Far 'neath the bridge it seemed that great fires burned, for the ruddy light that lit the hall wavered as would distant flames. He actually found this comforting, for it decreased the chances that enemies lingered thither amidst some deep conflagration.
26 Cerveth dawned in the outer world, but within Moria 'twas e'er dark, just as the Yrch liked it. For the next week, the company of Warg riders explored the vacant halls and deserted mansions, rode down empty streets and abandoned avenues. They heard and saw none living. A few corpses, desiccated and rat gnawed were the only inhabitants they met, and bit by bit, they became convinced that they were the sole living creatures in Khazad-dûm. Their reaction was as predictable as 'aught else natural to their kind.
When they uncovered restaurants, the common rooms of inns, and the mess halls of the army, they drank and feasted. When they discovered treasuries, vaults, and family hoards, they reveled in the spoils, gold and gems beyond their wildest dreams. Weapons and armor they inspected, choosing better blades, but reviling 'aught else of Dwarf make. They took their rest in fine apartments and slept on gilt-framed beds 'neath the coverlets of lords, and they debased whate'er they could for their humor's sake.
After rising from a day's rest in a luxurious suite, they spewed their excrement upon carpets and walls. Feather mattresses and pillows they left sodden with their urine. Whate'er food remained after a night of gorging, they flung upon the walls. Carvings and artwork they gleefully defaced. Tapestries they ripped or set afire. Heirloom serving pieces of glass or porcelain, they smashed. Silverware they bent, and golden platters they hammered o'er the backs of chairs. They stabled their Wargs in rooms where princes had abode, leaving the floors soiled, the carpets clawed apart, and the furnishings splintered by gnawing. So vast was Moria that the company felt they could degrade their surroundings 'til exhaustion took them and still spend a century without making a dent.
Whilst his company gave free rein to their baser instincts, the company's commander found inspiration. Here was an abandoned realm mightier than any lair or warren of his kind. 'Twas free for the taking and he was in command. Sauron and Dol Guldur seemed far away when viewed through his ambition, and like the rest of his company, he was in no hurry to return and become part of a meat suit.
On 4 Urui, he declared himself Vagungajol¹, King of Moria, slew two of his company who were slow to bow in acceptance, and appointed his brutal, dim-witted henchman, Urauth² as his lieutenant. He had twenty-one soldiers at his command, and twenty-four Wargs. Having been given odds of one in seven just to reach Moria, and having ne'er heard rumor of any that had returned, he deemed his master would simply write him off as dead and send further companies in the future. These he would subvert to his cause one by one 'til he had a proper army to serve 'neath his rule. ¹(Vagungajol, Giant cock = vagun(giant) + gajol(cock) Orkish) ²(Urauth, Mole Orkish)
Now Vagungajol determined to take the measure of his new kingdom, and so he and his company rode west. In his wisdom, he thought it best to first explore the level upon which they had entered, and extend his survey upwards and downwards after. 'Twas the least confusing plan that he could imagine and he had little notion of just how vast Khazad-dûm had been. Therefore, for ten days, the King of Moria and his company continued west, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake, the better to know afterwards whence they had come. During that subterranean transit, they completely lost count of day and night, and so 'twas in broad daylight on the 14th that they at last came 'nigh the West Gate.
Outside the Ennin Durin, the 13th dawned bright and clear. After taking an hour to break their fast, Helluin, Gwilolrán, and the five other Laiquendi set out climbing the cliff of Celebdil. Like the mess hall, the opening of the light shaft was just to the south of the doors, fifty-seven fathoms above ground level. Helluin and Gwilolrán had spent time surveying the cliff face through the Noldo's viewing tube, and they had found a fissure of varying breadth somewhat further south. 'Twas not ideally placed, but they could hope for no better, for it led from three fathoms above ground level all the way past the height of the window.
Now the five archers that Gwilolrán had chosen were all senior scouts accustomed to operating on any terrain and remaining unmoving for days when necessary. They were, in his opinion, the most experienced, versatile, and disciplined of his troops. Amongst them were three ellyn and two ellith, none familiar to Helluin though all knew her by reputation. They seemed undaunted by the prospect of free climbing 'nigh three hundred fifty feet up a cliff.
"All shall be roped together on the ascent, to belay any who might misstep and fall, and to thereby guard against the loss of a critical measure of rope," their lieutenant told them.
They had rolled their eyes at that, hearing that the loss of their lives was of lesser consequence than the loss of a section of rope.
"I shall ascend last, for I shall carry the spit and would not that it fall upon any 'neath me," Helluin told them.
The eight-foot length of square steel bar was affixed to her back. For the climb, she had doffed her cloak, travel bag, bow, quiver, armor, and sword belt, retaining only the Sarchram.
Each of the scouts had wrapped their segment of rope o'er both their shoulders and 'round their waists, leaving a couple fathoms free at each end. These they tied to the ropes of the next in their climbing order so that each climber had roughly three fathoms in which to move freely. With luck, any who fell would be saved by the other five clinging to the rock. As was all climbing and mountaineering in those days, they would free climb; the presence of a safety line on this ascent being an exception rather than the rule. They would leave the rope in place at the window of the light shaft atop the cliff and climb back down without any kind of belay, technically a free solo descent. Gwilolrán went first to lead them up the pitch.
The hardest part of the climb turned out to be the three fathoms ere they reached the bottom of the fissure. Whether by natural weathering, or the defensive strategies of the Gonnhirrim, the lowest eighteen feet of the cliff face had been smoothed to either side of the Ennin Durin for so far as the eye could see. No hand or footholds were to be found and the Elves were forced to stand three high atop each others' shoulders so that Gwilolrán was just able to reach the bottommost edge of the opening. There he reached so high as the rope connecting him to the next scout in the climbing order would allow, and then he locked his hands and feet into the crevice to stabilize his position.
One by one, the remaining climbers were hoisted up to stand atop each other's shoulders, with the final Laiquende and Helluin being raised like deadweights whilst dangling from their lengths of rope. By then, Gwilolrán had climbed to a height of seventy-five feet with the others following so far as preserving prudent slack in the lengths of rope 'twixt them would allow.
Thereafter the Elves ascended at a steady pace, foot by foot. They found no sections of the pitch o'erly challenging, nor were any traverses required. 'Twas a straight-up climb with sufficient purchase for their fingers and toes within the fissure, and so they soon fell into a rhythm, each moving upward and maintaining their spacing as the ground grew more distant 'neath them.
Dálindir, Tórferedir, Gérorn, and Celegaras watched their progress from the ground a furlong back from the cliff. The king and his general passed Helluin's viewing tube back and forth 'twixt them, still unsettled by its enchantments. From afar, they could see as if they too were clinging to a crack in the rock face. They saw Gwilolrán pause a moment to look out o'er the broadening panorama, and Helluin muttering a curse as she shook fallen grit from the passage of those above out of her hair.
"They make good progress," Celegaras mused 'round a mouthful of fresh bread.
"Aye. I wager they shall reach the top in an hour and return ere noon," the king said as he speared and lifted a halved pear from its syrup. "Perhaps Helluin can close the gates and climb free today rather than on the morrow."
"She would needs climb down whilst daylight lasts," Gérorn observed, "and I wager the climb down shall take them longer than the climb up. I deem she shall await the morrow lest she need spend the night atop the cliff after ascending the light shaft."
Tórferedir nodded in agreement as he scooped some honeyed oatmeal from a cook pot with a piece of flatbread.
"I am still amazed that the Mórgolodh bewitched our people into entering Moria," he said, shaking his head. "This camp I shall not forget in an Age."
Now the ascent of the cliff face indeed took less time than had been allotted, and after but an hour and a quarter, Gwilolrán and his company reached the height of the windows. There they found a narrow ledge running along the fronts of the three openings, as if in some distant past, it had served the Dwarves as a foothold from which to smooth the edges of the window openings. One after another, they stepped from the fissure and onto the ledge. There they paused to flex their fingers and toes and to massage the burn from the muscles in their forearms and calves.
'Neath them, the cliff dropped to the High Road, the Sirannon, and the Ennin Durin. Spread out 'nigh the gate stream were the tents and camp of the Laiquendi. O'erhead, Anor shone down, still 'nigh three hours ere noon. Helluin nodded in approval, for they had used far less time than her plan lad allotted.
"Come, let us proceed. The sooner done, the sooner we may descend," she said. "Perhaps we shall even reach the camp in time for the noon meal."
That prospect brought smiles to the faces of the scouts and they began to untie their sections of rope. Helluin freed the steel spit from her back and passed it down the line of scouts 'til 'twas at the middle window. There an elleth set it 'cross the opening and settled it against the rock margins. They saw that a good foot and a half extended past the edges of the window on either side after one end was butted against the cliff and the other lain into a slight notch in the ledge.
Helluin leant forward with both hands on the spit so that she could look down the light shaft, noting at the same time that the steel deflected not and easily supported her weight. The Noldo marked that the shaft's sides had been smoothed though not polished, but like all the stonework of the Gonnhirrim, excavated straight and square. The opening was rectangular, a fathom on its long sides, and four feet in its lesser dimension. The edges were beveled slightly wider so as to remove the sharp corner at the top that might fragment o'er years of freeze and thaw cycles.
Whilst Helluin inspected the light shaft, the Green Elves had removed the coils of rope from their bodies and begun knotting their ends together. When they were done, Helluin took one end and tied it securely 'round the center of the spit. The other end had been prepared on the ground aforetime, where a foot of its length had been unraveled and tied 'round a stone.
Now when she was sure of the knot at the spit, Helluin began lowering the rope down the light shaft. The tension from the stone at its far end kept the rope from hanging up on the sides of the shaft, for the shaft was not vertical. Rather, 'twas slightly inclined to the east as it descended so that by the time the stone had been lowered ten fathoms, 'twas sliding down the hewn western side of the shaft.
Yard by yard, the Elves continued to carefully pay out the line. The stone bumped and scraped as it descended, the sounds of it bouncing repeatedly off the west face of the shaft growing faint with the distance. Finally, after the sixth part of an hour, the stone's resistance disappeared and the line hung free. From this, Helluin deemed that it had reached the bottom of the light shaft and now swung o'er a table in the mess hall. She let the remaining rope slip through her hands and soon felt the tension vanish as the stone came to rest on the tabletop. The last fathoms fell loose, forming a small heap of rope lying atop the table.
"I deem we are done," she announced as the Laiquendi traded smiles. "Let us descend."
"One at a time, one at a time," Gwilolrán scolded as his scouts moved hastily towards the fissure. "Give yeselves ample space to dodge 'aught that may fall from above."
That sobered them, and thereafter they began to climb down one by one leaving a score and ten feet 'twixt them. It took a while, indeed twice as long as the ascent, for now they were staring downward past their own feet to find the next placement on the sides of the crevice. The foremost were 'nigh halfway down ere Helluin swung herself off the ledge and into the fissure. All told, they had spent 'nigh an hour atop the cliff.
"I reckon they shall require 'til noon after all," Celegaras said as he watched.
Beside him, Gérorn, Tórferedir, and Dálindir nodded in agreement as they continued to track the company's progress.
"Have some standing by when they come 'nigh the bottom," Dálindir said. "They shall still have that lowest segment with no footholds and I would rather not have any twist an ankle unnecessarily whilst trying to leap down."
Tórferedir dipped his head to the king and then rose to make the arrangements. After a short walk, he beckoned a company of off-duty archers o'er and gave them instructions. They nodded in understanding and then cast their eyes to the cliff. A half-hour later, as the lowest of the scouts reached the bottom of the fissure, they stood atop one another's shoulders to create a living ladder. The scout descended their backs, thanked her comrades, and then took a seat in the grass to await the return of the remaining climbers.
O'er the next third of an hour the rest of the company reached the ground with Helluin last at just ere noon. Having completed their mission, they adjourned to take their noon meal and the Noldo reported that all had gone according to plan.
"So then thou shalt await the dawn to enter Hadhodrond?" Dálindir asked, just to be sure.
"Aye," she said, "for aforetime I felt no danger within and so I begrudge not the time. The descent is best done in full daylight and I would not choose to be caught by evening upon the cliff face."
The king nodded to her for the choice was hers.
"If t'would set thy mind more at ease, I shall enter the gate after finishing my meal to confirm the continued emptiness of Moria," she offered.
"'Tis not so much for the ease of my mind," Dálindir said, "for we have 'naught but waited outside for the past score years. I deem 'tis for thine own safety that a last check may be of value. I know the chance is slight after the passing of so many years, yet my heart betides that sooner or later some of evil mien shall take up residence therein. I leave it to thee, old friend."
Though she reckoned that Dálindir's suspicions grew more from his visceral distrust of Moria, and places underground in general, than from any real possibility of danger, what he had said was prudent. She had to admit that on any given day, the chances of occupation by enemies was slight, but o'er time, such a chance became well 'nigh a certainty. And would it not be just my luck that on the morrow I shall find Yrch or a dragon ensconced thither, she carped to herself.
With a dip of her head to the king, Helluin stuffed the last of a peach into her mouth and then rose to reclaim her weapons and armor. Ten minutes later, she strode through the West Gate and into Moria.
To Be Continued