In An Age Before

by Phantom Bard

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

229. In An Age Before Chapter 229

In An Age Before – Part 229

Once she passed from 'neath the sun, Helluin concentrated on the silence and the darkness beyond the gate hall. For a while, she simply slipped forward, not producing any Light. She recalled the many times she had entered the West Gate, even back in the early years of the Second Age ere the Ennin Durin had been built. From the first, she had been welcomed, and o'er the long count of years that followed, a bond of mutual trust and admiration had grown. The Gonnhirrim had become some of her most esteemed friends.

Khazad-dûm; even now, the name 'Moria' sat sour upon her tongue. Despite the prejudice and denigration with which the Naugrim had been greeted by some of the Noldor and Sindar in the First Age, they had accepted her and later, the realm of Eregion as well. Eventually, the Gonnhirrim had become collaborators and allies. They had taken the field and fought in the War of the Elves and Sauron and the War of the Last Alliance. On the enchanted doors of his realm, King Durin III had bid Celebrimbor inscribe, Pedo Mellon a Minno, 'Speak Friend and Enter'. Helluin and her people had once counted many friends here.

She spent some time revisiting the chambers branching from the gate hall. The rope she had lowered earlier hung from the light shaft in the mess hall, ready to provide her an escape. She entered the barracks where the bunks waited; blankets stretched tight, their edges tucked 'round the sides of the mattresses, and the pillows fluffed and centered at their heads. 'Naught had changed in their formal order, and yet absent the troops, they waited bereft of their soul. Emptied of its people, Khazad-dûm felt like a tomb without cadavers, a place still and silent, its heart ripped out with not a drop of spilt blood to be seen.

Of course, Helluin expected that were she to explore far enough, she would come upon the dead and desiccated bodies of the fallen, soldiers and civilians alike. Were she to explore the depths of the mines, she expected to find hundreds of warriors baked alive in their armor and slain without a stroke. Yet here at the far western verge of Durin's Realm there had been no violence that she could mark, only the aftermath of an organized and deliberate withdrawal.

Helluin climbed the staircase leading up from the gate hall. The dim sunlight passing through the half-open doors faded behind her and she projected a dim ril of Light from her fëa to illuminate the arch atop the stairs and the tunnel that lay beyond. Slowly, she paced down that passage where she had accompanied the prospectors Gikli and Merk, fifty-three centuries aforetime. Her eyes had raked o'er e'ery detail then, for it had been her first visit to Hadhodrond and she had been the first of her people to set foot within Durin's Halls.

Now whilst the eastern precincts of Khazad-dûm were arranged in a formal scheme of Levels above Azanulbizar Gate, and Deeps 'neath them, that order broke down somewhat in the west, for thither had been of old the early delvings and mines. Through thousands of years, the Gonnhirrim had prospected for ores and gems, and they had quarried stone for building as well. Most of those activities had taken place 'neath the saddle 'twixt Barazinbar and Zirakzigil beginning just northwest of the summit of Celebdil, and at first accessed by the beginnings of what had later become the Endless Stair. At present, most of those ancient mines and chambers had been tapped out and were no longer productive, and so they had become historical sites or hazardous eyesores. Amongst these was Ugar, the Greatest Cavern, which had become a tourist attraction.

Occupied with her memories, Helluin had continued walking, through the tunnel, past silent halls, and down deserted avenues. Each held some recollection for her, parts of the scenery she had passed on her journeys east o'er the centuries. In those days, she had oft marked some change, some new construction, or the demolition of an outmoded structure and its replacement with one designed to fill a more current need. 'Twas an endless process.

Being in no rush and having no destination, she passed four hours thus, her mind idle in the present and fully occupied with the phantasms of previous visits Ere she realized how far she had come, she found herself standing on a rough track that traced the contour of an abandoned excavation. A cliff rose at her back and a precipice of several hundred feet yawned before her.

There she paused and scanned the vast space. At places along the walls and on myriad levels persisted the rickety and long abandoned accouterments of the miners' trade, scaffolds, tracks for ore carts, ladders of dubious construction, and pendant buckets hanging like threats from rusty chains o'erhead. Helluin deemed that most still stood only by virtue of inertia and lack of weathering. Force of habit held them up and the least wind or rain would have tumbled all to ruin in a moment or two. More importantly, 'naught showed signs of burning.

The aggressive heats that had caused the deaths of Durin VI and Náin I had not intruded here, or at least she could see no evidence of it. Perhaps those phenomena had remained deeper in the mines, or perhaps they had not stretched so far to the west. There was no way to know, and whether or not they would reach this area in the future was impossible to foretell. Even after the disasters of 1980-1, little was truly known of their cause. The name 'Durin's Bane' did not signify a corporeal enemy, but rather an occult effect whose origin remained a mystery, and for that reason, no countermeasures could be taken.

With a sigh, Helluin shook herself from her ruminations. The all-pervading silence and darkness had grown increasingly melancholy to her. In the outer world, the hours of daylight were passing and she might not come to the West Gate ere nightfall. She turned from the cavern and began to retrace her steps west.

One further observation needs be made. At the Azanulbizar Gate, the way into Khazad-dûm led from the First Hall and down a staircase into the Second Hall where stood Durin's Bridge. Being one level 'neath the level of the gate, 'twas more rightly the Second Hall of the First Deep. The West Gate was two levels 'neath the East Gate and at the inner end of the gate hall behind the Ennin Durin stood a staircase of two hundred steps that rose 'nigh one hundred feet. Technically, the west gate was on the level of the Second Deep and ascending the staircase left one on the level of the First Deep. In a coincidence that was no coincidence at all, Helluin and the new King of Moria were traveling from opposite directions on the same level towards a confrontation that was probably 'naught more than a brief counterpoint in The Song.

Helluin found that evening had fallen by the time she came to the West Gate. Seeing 'naught of light coming from outside, she illuminated herself with a ril of Light that blended silver and gold so that the archers would recognize her and not shoot. Ere exiting back out onto the High Road, she pulled the doors open wide, testing the movement of the enchanted hinges and assuring herself that all was as it should be.

The Green Elves greeted her with relief and welcome, for she had been gone hours longer than they had anticipated. Dálindir and Tórferedir walked up to her and at their worried expressions and questioning looks, she volunteered a summary of what she had found. 'Twas the culture of the Laiquendi that none be compelled to give an accounting of themselves save at the greatest need, even to their king. To a dispersed and free-roaming people, individual liberty was prized above well 'nigh 'aught else.

"Well met, Helluin," the king said, his concern evident in his voice. "Thou wast gone long and we are glad to see thee safely returned."

Acknowledging her extended absence was as close as he would come to asking for tidings, especially from her.

"My lords, I am well and simply lost track of the time, for many memories linger within yonder realm. Khazad-dûm still lies deserted so far as a four-hour walk east," she said. "I reckon that I came three and one-half leagues and found no hint of living foes. The halls and avenues are silent and no evidence of the deadly heats were to be seen either. On the morrow, I shall carry out the remainder of our plan."

Dálindir and Tórferedir nodded to her with smiles of thanks.

"Come, Helluin, as night has already fallen, pray share the evening meal with us. Celegaras shot a deer in the foothills to the south and Gérorn discovered mushrooms," the king said.

The thought of such a meal made the Noldo's mouth water. After the long silence of Moria, their company would be welcome too. She enthusiastically nodded her acceptance of the invitation. Later, as they took their ease, Helluin would elaborate on her foray into Durin's Halls, and her tidings would be well received.

Now the feast had been prepared in the manner of the Laiquendi. No roaring fire lay 'neath a spitted carcass with a reveling throng gathered 'round to drink and watch it turn. After the entrail dump, the skinning, and the butchery, the meat was divided amongst the companies at a rate of roughly five ounces per Green Elf. These portions were pooled by each company to make stews for that group's dining. Dried peas, beans, grains, preserved vegetables, and a mushroom or two filled out the balance of the recipes, with all the ingredients simmered together in a parfleche o'er a trench fire. Served with freshly baked flat bread and followed by a dessert of fruit preserved in syrup, it made for a satisfying meal.

Being inclined to savor their fare, Helluin, Dálindir, Tórferedir, Celegaras, and Gérorn spent the better part of two hours eating and drinking whilst the Noldo related her tale in more detail. 'Neath the dark sky and the stars, they could have been living at any time in the past six millennia, for only Ithil's presence gave testimony that the Age of the Trees had passed. During that time, Helluin offered the Laiquendi a far more detailed impression of Khazad-dûm than they had e'er enjoyed aforetime. 'Twas a realm that from the start had seemed strange to them, as had Belegost and Nogrod long ago, and populated by a people who at first had been as incomprehensible as their tongue.

During the long years 'neath the stars, Denethor son of Lenwë had led his people west of the Ered Nimrais and into Eriador from the southeast. Long they had dwelt there in peace, but time passed and fell creatures that had escaped the Breaking of Utumno found their way to that land from the north. Having heard rumor of the might of Elu Thingol in Doriath, Denethor led his host o'er the Ered Luin and into Beleriand. Much in that new land had been strange to them.

They had found Dwarves living in the Blue Mountains, in halls delved deep in the earth. They saw roads hewn through the forests and paved with stone. Fires not meant for the cooking of food burnt day and night and gave off unpleasant smells. Parts of the landscape were dug up and certain rocks were carted off by the ton. In Menegroth, they found Thingol living in halls delved deep in the earth, just like the Dwarves. In their opinion, 'twas no life for an Elf.

The Laiquendi had been thankful for Thingol's welcome and for the peace of his lands, but most of them had withdrawn to Ossiriand, to live in open forests 'twixt the seven streams that drained the Ered Luin into eastern Beleriand. There they had kept to themselves, and after tragic losses in war, become the most stealthy of all the kindreds in that land. Orcs they had shot e'er after on principle and later, dismayed at the arrival of Men, they had encouraged the mortals to go onward, hewers of the trees and hunters of beasts¹that they were. ¹(Part of the Green Elves' plea to Finrod to arrange the removal of Bëor and his kindred from Ossiriand. Sil., OtCoMitW, pg 166.)

With the Naugrim they shared next to nothing, for by temperament, they had 'naught in common save their hatred of Morgoth. Howe'er, the peace of the early years 'neath the stars was fated to end. With the return of Morgoth and the Noldor, and the rising of the moon and sun, war became the e'er present threat.

After dying in their quest to take a Silmaril from Morgoth, Princess Lúthien and Beren son of Barahir reappeared as mortals, released for a time from the Halls of Mandos to live out their lives on Tol Galen amidst the River Adurant. Then Menegroth was sacked, Thingol slain, the Nauglamír stolen, and Melian departed. The Green Elves had joined Beren to slaughter the Dwarves of Nogrod and recover the necklace in which the Silmaril was set. For the next eighteen centuries, the Gonnhirrim and the Laiquendi gave each other wide berth, seldom coming into contact again 'til they found themselves allies during the War of the Elves and Sauron.

Slowly, the relationship 'twixt the Green Elves and the Dwarves had improved, and for the last seven centuries, the two kindreds had regularly allied against the minions of the Witch King. Still, in all those years only one amongst them had dared tread the deep halls to pass through Durin's realm. Only in the past few days, had any significant count of Laiquendi entered Khazad-dûm, and that for but a short time spent in the precinct just inside the West Gate.

"Though not the easiest of kindreds to come to know, I found them steadfast and honorable in all my interactions and count them valued friends and allies," Helluin said. "'Tis painful to me to know that I could not offer better counsel to King Durin, and when their hour of greatest need was upon them, I was far away. Would that I could amend what has come to pass. Perhaps one day…"

The Green Elves nodded to her in understanding. For a warrior of her prowess, facing an enemy that could not be assailed must have been bitter indeed. As with Beinvír's disappearance aforetime, they felt a certainty that she would do all she could as the years passed. For now, though, her options were limited.

"Time may bring thee understanding, meldis nín," Dálindir said, "and perhaps one day this enemy shall reveal its face."

"Should Durin's Bane e'er reveal a face, I shall smite it," she replied, "on behalf of many lost friends."

Now upon finishing their meal, the Green Elves retired to resting their minds and Helluin went off the visit Red, whom she had seen little of o'er the past couple days. She found him quietly cropping grass beside the Sirannon, downstream from the tents and the lounging archers.

"Greetings, Red, I hope thou hast found the wait bearable. I deem we shall be done in another day and then on our way o'er the mountains again," she told him.

His head perked up at that.

Oh, thank the Gods! I have been well 'nigh bored to tears of late. These Elves are unlike those in Imladris. I deem they are barely familiar enough with horses to know head from tail, he said, displaying no small measure of pique.

They do not ride, trusting as dost thou to their own feet. Mostly, their ways came of how best to maintain their stealth whilst in the wild, an easier thing to do afoot than whilst riding.

Red nodded to her in understanding, but observed that, since our arrival, they have seemed not so stealthy to me. I believe their king and general are of the same mind.

Indeed so, Helluin said, and the more because they are quite traditional in outlook.

I shall probably miss them little once we are gone. So whither then, O Helluin?

I hope to finish with Moria on the morrow by closing fast these doors, and thereafter we shall take our leave and go o'er the mountain pass to Lórinand. 'Tis a forest, aye, but far nicer than Calenglad. I believe thou shalt find it much more appealing.

Red rolled his eyes at that, deeming no forest a good place for a horse. He was more interested in the views from the pass.

So atop this pass, shall I again be able to see all things?

Indeed so, O Red, though they may be different things as we are far south of the High Pass that we took aforetime. Ne'ertheless, I wager thou shalt find the views breathtaking in their own right and well worth the climb.

I look forward to it then, O Helluin. I wish thee success in closing the doors of Moria, and I shall await thy safe return.

I thank thee, O Red. I shall return as swiftly as the task allows. I bid thee a good night.

The Easterling horse nodded a farewell and returned to cropping grass as Helluin returned to the camp and spread her ground cloth of seersucker pelts. There she reclined and o'er the remaining hours of darkness, tracked Ithil's progress 'cross the sky, marking a few miniscule deviations in his path. Tilion, huh…the guy could barely set three feet in a row and that was on game trails in Aman ere he took up his current task. I should have asked of Alatar and Pallando regarding him. They were all hunters in Oromë's train upon a time.

As Helluin watched, Tilion managed to find his way 'cross the sky hauling Rána, and acquired a halo a couple hours ere he disappeared just as Arien hoisted Vása o'er the horizon. 14 Urui dawned softly with a thin o'ercast covering the sky. On the ground, cast shadows were soft.

With a sigh, Helluin doffed her sword belt, bow, quiver, and travel bag, but this time retained her armor. A few scrapes climbing down the cliff had convinced her that the protection would be worthwhile. Again, she brought the Sarchram. Because it carried a fragment of her own fëa and Sauron had once tried to subjugate her through it, she was loath to let the Grave Wing out of her sight. She rolled up her ground cloth, stuffed it into her travel bag, and then joined a company of off-duty archers who had waved her o'er.

The Green Elves had waxed inventive, pouring some applesauce into a packet of bread dough and then baking it into a passable tart. Helluin gratefully accepted a couple of these to break her fast. As she ate, she kept an eye on the sky, hoping that the cloud cover would burn off. She had no desire to test the strength of the old rope after it had become soaked and its weight increased, nor had she any desire to climb down the cliff face in the rain.

'Twas with increasing impatience that Helluin waited an hour, then two. During the third hour after dawn, the sun finally burnt away the haze and the day was bright. Cast shadows sharpened and with a sigh of relief, the Noldo gave the hidden archers a wave and then walked towards the Ennin Durin. 'Twas then two hours ere noon.

Now she strode into the cool dimness of the gate hall and was about to turn and close the doors when the hairs on the back of her neck rose and she felt the tingling of threat. There were sounds of shuffling feet, sniffing muzzles, and the scent of filthy, wet dog. Worse, there was the foul stench of the Yrch. 'Cross the hall, just beginning to descend the stairs was a company of Warg riders that she reckoned numbered a couple dozen. Helluin shook her head in disbelief, appalled at the timing.

The Yrch saw her at the same moment. The Wargs caught her scent and growled. Then at the head of the pack, Vagungajol shouted, "Kjani!¹" ¹(kjani, food Orkish)

The company gleefully took up his cry, rejoicing in the timing and adding shouts of, "Maush!", "Pikzan!", and more typical utterances including, "Gost!", "Vras!", and "Krir!²". ²(maush, meat…pikzam, roast Elf…gost, feast…vras, kill…krir, slash Orkish)

In the next moment, the newly self-proclaimed King of Moria jammed his heels into the sides of his mount and the company of Warg riders leapt down the stairs howling in anticipation. Helluin reached for Anguirél's hilt out of habit, came up empty-handed, and realized her sword belt was outside.

"Oh for crying aloud," she muttered in exasperation.

Retreat, the Sarchram advised, there are too many for me to slay in time.

Loath to flee from Yrch, Helluin paused as the Warg riders reached the bottom of the staircase, but finally with a groan, she turned and ran back out of the gates. Behind her, the Wargs were gaining upon her with frightening speed. She could hear their panting and growls, the gleeful shouts of the Yrch, and the pounding of feet growing e'er closer. Although the Yrch felt a moment's hesitation at riding out into the sunlight, the Wargs carried forward with only the scent of prey in flight to decide their course. Shocked to paralysis by the sudden turn of events, the Green Elves watched the spectacle unfold for a few scant seconds.

"Leitho! Leitho!¹" Helluin screamed, and then she dove forward, twisting onto her back as she flew, and desperately snatching the Sarchram as the closest Warg leapt to take her down. ¹(Leitho, Release (shoot) = leitho-(v. release) + -o(imp. v. suff.) Sindarin)

Broken from their shock, the Laiquendi began firing and arrows whizzed o'erhead, striking Wargs and Yrch. As she slammed onto the ground, Helluin barely managed to raise the Ring-Blade in time to slice the airborne Warg from sternum to anus.

The Sarchram cut deep and lying flat on her back, Helluin was inundated with a gush of the Warg's blood and liberated entrails. The gutted carcass crashed to the ground only a couple feet past where she lay, dumping its rider head o'er heels into the dirt. 'Twas a testimony to how o'er-excited the Green Elves were that when he stood, no less than six arrows suddenly appeared in his flesh. He died with the look of astonishment on his face turning to horror as Helluin began to rise from the wreck.

The dark Noldo staggered to her feet wearing seventy pounds of Warg guts, dripping with blood, and absolutely furious. Draped in rolls of intestines and with a fifteen pound liver hanging from her right arm, the best she could do was to burst into a blinding ril of Light and scream, "Beltho huiniath!" at the top of her lungs.

Elvish arrows kindled to flame as they passed through her incandescence to find their targets in Warg or Orch. Unable to see or count their foes, but knowing they were at a massive disadvantage, Vagungajol and Urauth turned their mounts and fled back into Moria. Three other Warg riders followed closely, one taking an arrow in the back in an act of unintended self-sacrifice. Ere the targets were lost in the darkness of the gate hall, eighteen of twenty-two Yrch, and twenty of twenty-four Wargs lay dead on the doorstep of the Ennin Durin. In the ensuing silence, the superheated liver dangling from Helluin's right arm detonated from the pressure of steam built up within and spattered the Noldo in a final anointment of fell meat.

And if all the Valar are not convulsed in hysterics at my expense now, I shall be amazed, she thought, I shall ne'er live this down should I e'er return to Aman…ahhh well.

The Green Elves stood down as Helluin began to shake off her coating of roasted Warg entrails. Finally, she gave up and waded into the Sirannon for an impromptu bath. The baked on blood and flash roasted innards were slow to wash away. 'Cross the field, Red regarded all that had come to pass and thought, huh, Eriador is a far stranger place than I could possibly have imagined. Now, I suppose I truly have seen all things.

Whilst the archers nervously trained their bows on the open doors, Helluin finally managed to wash away the blood and entrails and slogged her way out of the Gate Stream. She was still far from calm. Tórferedir of all people came to her bearing her sword belt, which he offered to her. As she reached out to accept it and offer her thanks, the general's composure failed and he emitted a stifled cackle. Helluin's eyes narrowed, but 'twas too late. Tórferedir clutched his belly and doubled o'er laughing 'til tears leaked from his eyes. Each time he tried to master himself and apologize, his first look at the Mórgolodh broke his comportment and finally he gave up and rolled on the ground in hysterics.

Helluin finished tying on her weapons, then threw up her hands and stalked off towards Moria, the hint of blue flames crackling from her eyes. She left Tórferedir lying prone and braying with laughter. A glance 'round revealed Dálindir sitting on the ground and covering his face with his hands, his shoulders convulsing with unconstrained hilarity. Gérorn and Celegaras were snickering and had to look away from her. Gwilolrán was sitting and shaking his head 'twixt intermittent fits of laughter.

Sheesh, she thought, after six thousand years at war my reputation is undone in a moment.

Reckoning she had ''naught to gain by staying outside, she snatched up her bow, quiver, and travel bag and strode towards the Ennin Durin. There the doors still stood open wide.

Knowing no better, and with the added impetus of fleeing for their lives, Vagungajol, Urauth, and their two surviving companions had not even considered trying to close the doors. 'Twas obvious that the Gates of Moria were massive, hewn of solid stone, and unimaginably heavy. The notion of pushing them closed ne'er even occurred to them. They had fled helter-skelter through the gate hall, back up the staircase, and into the tunnel ere they slackened their pace. There they paused, trying to calm their heaving lungs whilst their Wargs panted and sat upon their haunches with tongues lolling out 'twixt their fangs.

'Twas not long ere they marked the lack of pursuit and they heaved sighs of relief. Perhaps the filthy, cowardly Elves were only concerned with keeping any from entering their lands, haunted and accused since the dawn of time as they were. Though a tasty meal had escaped, the Yrch were satisfied, for they had only hoped to make Moria into a realm of their own kind. Invading Eriador was a fantasy for later, when their numbers had grown to tens of thousands.

Eventually, they dared light a couple torches and followed their leader back through the tunnel and onto the avenues of the First Deep. By the time they had come a mile, they were bragging and trading boasts about chasing off the she-Elf who had dared to enter their kingdom. They soon came to a tavern and broke the doors, entering the common room and ransacking the kitchen. Finding wood already laid in the hearth, they kindled a cheery fire. There they spent the remainder of the time allotted to them feasting, drinking, and gloating o'er triumphs to come. To none of them had the notion of posting a sentry or keeping watch on the doors occurred.

Now 'twas well 'nigh two hours after the thwarted attack that Helluin and the Green Elves reclaimed their composure and took stock of the morning's events. Helluin entered Moria and found that the Yrch had fled. She discovered no trace of them as far as the inner end of the tunnel, and so she told Dálindir and Tórferedir that she deemed the gate hall safe. Eager to rid their land of the remains of the Yrch and the Wargs, they hauled the slain into the gate hall and dumped them in a corner. When they were done, the Laiquendi retreated back outside, but Helluin remained. Finally, she pushed the Ennin Durin closed and went east to hunt Orcs.

At that time, Helluin could have simply made her way to the mess hall and climbed back out of Moria having accomplished her mission. She did not, for she could not abide the notion of Yrch making Khazad-dûm a realm of their kind, to become a growing threat on the border of Hollin and placing the Caradhras Pass into jeopardy. She knocked an arrow on the string of her steel bow and slipped forward through the tunnel and into the halls of the First Deep, producing only sufficient Light to illuminate her way.

In silence she advanced, her hearing keen for the slightest sound that would reveal her quarry. A great advantage she realized she held, that unlike the Yrch, she was long familiar with the First Deep. Knowing somewhat of the Yrch, she reckoned that they would likely seek for one of two boons, food or treasure. Of hoards and treasuries, there were none so far west, but there had been many establishments for feeding those marching to guard the gates, messengers traveling to and from the more populous precincts further east, and traders coming and going to Eregion. 'Twas for these that she sought as she went forward, recalling the placement of inns, taverns, and common rooms. Some, such as the hole-in-the-wall Gyrating Sandwich establishment, she ignored, but those she knew she approached with stealth.

The venerable First Deep Mutton House she found still closed up tight. Likewise, the newer Westman's Ale Hall was dark and deserted. In all honesty, Helluin had to admit that she had not expected the Warg riders to have stopped so close to the gate. Still, she would have been remiss had she passed them by. Another twenty minutes passed and the Noldo was surprised to hear guttural voices coming from the broken door of The Miner's Mark Gluttery. Through the front windows, she marked the glow of a fire and a couple torches lighting the space. 'Twas barely a mile from the West Gate down a major avenue and 'twas certainly no place to hide out. She recalled an o'erburdened kitchen porter struggling to carry the carcass of a goat in the front door and through the dining room to reach the kitchen. The Gluttery had no rear entrance and when deliveries were delayed past opening, the diners received a preview of what they were to eat.

Helluin edged one eye 'round the nearest corner of an alley, marking the four Wargs lounging on the pavement out front. I can work with this, she thought.

Now a champion mortal runner can cover a mile in four minutes, or slightly more. Helluin was not on a track, nor was she able to begin running 'til she had put some distance 'twixt herself and The Miner's Mark Gluttery. There were stairs and turns to slow her progress, yet after ten minutes, she had returned to the gate hall. There she approached the pile of carcasses, and choosing one well endowed with flesh, hewed off an Orch leg, stripped away its fetid trousers, wrapped it in a fetid cloak, and carried it off o'er her shoulder. After the third part of an hour, she was again peeking 'round the corner at the entrance to the Gluttery. 'Naught had changed since her leave-taking and she nodded to herself, deeming that a good omen.

Now from her travel bag she drew a bottle acquired aforetime in the east, and from it, poured a libation of venom that she had milked from the fang of the dead Ungolúróg, the giant spider daemon of Sheol. She used a corner of the cloak to coat the Orch leg with a thin film of the toxin and then left it just out of sight 'round the corner from the Wargs. Ere she slipped away with stealth, she fanned the stench of the flesh into the street by flapping the cloak o'er it.

Helluin retreated 'round the corner at the opposite end of the alley and there she kept an eye on the poisoned leg. She had not tried to test the venom's virtue aforetime, and indeed, she only hoped that it had retained its potency. As a precaution though, she set two arrows to her bowstring and prepared to begin shooting the Wargs should that be required.

It took little time ere the Wargs began sniffing, for the air suddenly carried the scent of food. Being of a kindred wholly indiscriminate about what they ate, they followed their noses to the corner. Caring not in the least why an Orch leg should be there, but only that it was, they began savaging it with their teeth, tearing away hunks of flesh that they swallowed whole. Although there was some growling and some snapping 'twixt them, in the end, the four shared enough for each to have ingested an effective quantity of toxin.

Now Helluin had not witnessed any of the Wainriders being bitten by Ungolúróg. She did know that spiders stung with a paralytic by using a harpoon at the tip of their abdomen. They would then constrain their victims in a mass of webbing, storing them thus 'til hunger or convenience dictated a mealtime¹. The venom of the spider's fangs was of a different type, made to dissolve tissue into a protein smoothie that the spider sucked up through its mouthparts. A spider, even a giant spider, injected relatively little into any single victim, allowing chemistry and time to do the work. Helluin had filled a bottle with powerful necrotizing venom and had unknowingly used enough on the Orch leg to liquefy scores of victims. Such a vast quantity negated the requirement of time. ¹(Real arachnids in our world do not hunt this way. I know this, having raised many generations of Black Widows. Spiders bite, but do not sting. The stinger is movie-verse Shelob.)

The Noldo watched with intense curiosity as the four Wargs fought o'er the leg and scarfed down e'ery scrap of meat. In but a few moments, they had stripped it to the bone. With each swallow, the creatures rifled hunks of toxic flesh into their gullets, and there it began its work at a frightening pace. Almost instantly, their alimentary tracts began to disintegrate.

The Wargs had lain down as they were wont to do after gorging, but all too soon, they felt something amiss. One by one they stood, panting and unsteady on shaking limbs. With forelegs splayed, heads lowered, and jaws agape, strings of ropy saliva dangled from their lips as they hacked and choked. Then their bellies began convulsing, attempting to void the offending contents of their stomachs. It seemed the meat resisted at first, reluctant to come up as low, gurgling whines came from their throats.

Suddenly from one of the Warg's came a wet, tearing sound, and the powerful expulsion of a bloody regurgitate equal to the quarter volume of its body. Visually diminished in size, the creature sank onto its belly, a half-ranga of prolapsed entrails protruding from its mouth. As Helluin watched, the everted esophagus, trachea, stomach, and one lung rapidly 'melted' into an unrecognizable and clotted sludge. A frothing hemorrhage pumped from its lips as it shuddered and its rigid hind legs spasmed ere it finally lay still.

By then, the other three Wargs had followed suit, each expelling its disintegrating organs ere shock and blood loss brought on a horrific demise. From feast to fatality, barely five minutes had passed. Helluin took it all in and shook her head in amazement as the Warg carcasses continued to liquefy. Now, I suppose I truly have seen all things, she thought.

As the slain beasts were reduced to lumpy puddles, Helluin left the alley and came 'round the corner and onto the street. Wholly preoccupied with their revels, the Yrch within The Miner's Mark Gluttery had not marked the disappearance of their mounts. Through the open doors she heard their drunken boasting, the stamping of their iron soled shoes, and their foul cursing. With the all-concealing stealth of the Laiquendi, Helluin slipped unmarked through the doors and into the common room, and there she clove to the shadows, advancing towards Vagungajol and his comrades. She found that they were so inebriated and inattentive that Elvish stealth was barely necessary. Helluin deemed that she could have walked right up to them.

Having won their first battle in the defense of their new realm, Vagungajol, Urauth, and their two surviving companions deemed themselves justified in celebrating a great victory with some well-earned victuals and ale. That the victuals included hams and bacon so dehydrated as to be fit for woodworking more than eating, and that the ale had rested two decades in a tapped keg and stank like a skunk mattered not. The swill contained alcohol still and the meats merely exercised the jaw. Best of all, both qualified as spoils, having been taken without payment from old foes.

The four Yrch were to the point of reeling, unsteady on their feet, and their minds gave fee rein to their fantasies. Vagungajol flopped down in a seat at the head of a table and beckoned his lieutenant to drape a window curtain o'er his shoulders. A mixing bowl from the kitchen served as a crown, and a rolling pin as the rod of his office. Thus enthroned, he received the adoration of his subjects.

After taking a deep pull from his mug and releasing an epic belch to substitute for a fanfare of heraldic trumpets, Urauth proclaimed, "All hail our lord, Vagungajol, King of Moria!"

The two remaining Yrch knelt upon both knees and slurred a chorus of, "Long live the king!"

'Twas the most perverted mummery that Helluin could recall in many a year and the sight of it inflamed her with rage. The lordliness and dignity of the true lords of Khazad-dûm demanded redress of this vile pantomime. With a great shriek of rage, she burst into a blinding ril of Light and blue fire leapt from her brow. She snatched the Sarchram from her belt and flung it 'cross the common room to hew the head clean off the pretender king. It fell with a dull thud right before the two kneeling before his seat, winding up inverted and still encased in its crowning bowl. The king gave his subjects a single blink ere his eyes grew dim.

Helluin caught the returning Sarchram, but already she was in full stride, unsheathing Anguirél and lunging forward to impale Urauth hilt deep in the chest. With a vicious twist of her body, she flung his corpse off the Black Sword and then spun, sweeping her blade 'round to cleave the heads from the two kneeling Yrch.

The slaughter had been fully realized in but moments, and the dark Noldo stood alone in the silent common room as the flaring of her incandescence faded and the battle fire dimmed in her eyes. King for a day and now 'naught but a king of ghosts, she gritted out in thought.

And servant of the greater king of ghosts in the Void, the Sarchram added.

After cleaning her weapons, Helluin backtracked from The Miner's Mark Gluttery and slowly trudged back to the gate hall. There she made sure the doors were still closed fast, and then she made her way to the mess hall to begin her long climb back up into the sunlight.

Now in the mess hall, Helluin tied her travel bag, bow, and quiver to the end of the rope. She planned to haul them up after she had reached the top, thereby to lessen her own weight as she ascended. This time, she retained her armor and primary weapons. Leaping atop the table 'neath the light shaft, she grasped the rope and began hauling herself up. The climb was long, but not uncomfortable, slightly claustrophobic, but not oppressive for 'twas in sunlight. Perhaps the worst part was that the shaft was but four feet by six, yet 'twas easy to ascend with a fathom's headroom since the incline was slight. The time it took, she did not begrudge.

Helluin finally reached the top of the light shaft four hours past noon. She clambered out onto the narrow ledge and then hauled her travel bag, bow, and quiver up after her. Once she had recovered her possessions, she left e'erything attached to the end, but untied the rope from the spit. Atop the cliff, she rejoiced a while in the sunlight and fresh air, waving to the Laiquendi who pointed and waved back to her from the ground outside the West Gate.

When the Noldo was finally ready to descend the cliff face, she first took the rope with her bow, quiver, and travel bag still attached, and lowered them o'er the edge. For a short time, she paid out the line, quickly lowering her travel bag, bow, and quiver 'til they reached the ground. Some of the Green Elves moved to collect them, but Helluin waved them off, then she tossed the free end of the rope after and watched as it snaked down through the air in free fall. Just ere Helluin moved to the fissure, she tipped the spit so that it fell, crashing and clanging down the light shaft to crash in the mess hall, and then she descended the cliff as she had a day aforetime.

Glad she was to set her feet on solid ground again, and the Laiquendi received her with praise, their earlier hilarity forgotten. Together they celebrated as evening fell, consuming the remaining rations they had collected from the storerooms 'nigh the gate hall, for Dálindir and Tórferedir deemed the watch upon the Ennin Durin ended. For that, all of the archers were most thankful, surcease of their boredom. The remaining firewood was carried off, some to be cached 'nigh the base of the Caradhras Pass, the remainder to be stored in the cutting through Hollin Ridge. The Laiquendi left the tents standing, knowing they would decay and disappear in a few seasons, whilst in the meantime they might give pause to any Yrch attempting to come o'er the Hithaeglir.

"It hath been good to see thee again, Helluin," Dálindir said o'er the last of the preserved peaches, "and I wish thee safe roaming. Thou hast my thanks for bringing an end to this threat. I had been at my wits' end for a score years."

He shook his head and cast a glance to the head of the High Road where 'naught was to be seen save the blank cliff face. Helluin and Tórferedir followed his gaze.

"I hope we shall not be troubled thus again anytime soon," the general said hopefully. "I am in no hurry to return. Think thou that some may again find their way in…or out?"

"'Aught is possible, of course," Helluin replied, "yet the years pass and fewer recall the spell to reveal and open the gate with each passing year. 'Twas a great work in its time, widely celebrated, and its secrets are set down in lore, yet I wager the reputation of Moria shall stay most save at some great need. I am more worried about those who may come from within."

"The Yrch," Dálindir said, worry etching his features.

"Aye, and perhaps in some year to come they may again establish themselves in strength" Helluin said. "When I go o'er the pass, I shall hope to meet some who may keep a watch on the east to dissuade them."

"That would be well, Helluin," the king replied. "For our part, we shall dissuade them from using the pass, but guarding the hidden way, that must fall to others."

Helluin nodded in understanding, wishing she could discern some strategy for barring the gates from without, yet they opened inward. No inspirations came to her save the options already discarded. She surveyed the High Road leading away from the blank cliff and the gate stream running beside it ere it disappeared o'er a low falls of five fathoms height. She followed it with her eyes to the stairhead leading up beside the water so that the walking path rejoined the switchbacks by which the High Road climbed to the head of the falls. Thereafter, both road and stream crossed the valley in which they had camped.

Adverse to roads by nature, the Laiquendi entered the valley from the north, coming o'er a low rise in the land, and this time, Helluin had arrived from the same direction. She would leave in the morn the same way as she rode to the foot of the Caradhras Pass. Finally, she blinked and turned from the track that now led only the sad ruins of Ost-in-Edhil.

"Old memories, my friend?" Celegaras asked.

"Aye. I recall this valley filled with craftsmen as they built the doors, Celebrimbor, Narvi, and many other artisans from Ost-in-Edhil and Hadhodrond. I came here with Beinvír to ask Celebrimbor if he knew a smith named Malthenvab who turned out to be Sauron disguised," Helluin said, shaking her head in chagrin at not having recognized him. "Celebrimbor and I exchanged heated words yet parted in friendship at the end. 'Twas the last good day we shared."

The master scout nodded, perceiving her melancholy. Thereafter, Celebrimbor and the smiths of Eregion had forged the Rings of Power and then Sauron's Glamhoth had laid waste Eriador.

"I deem that we have all lost much with the fall of Khazad-dûm, and thou more than most," he said in sympathy.

"I thank thee, meldir nín," Helluin said, "yet none have lost more than the Gonnhirrim. Of late, I have learnt that Thráin son of Náin raises a new realm in Erebor. I rode past it unknowing on my way west. I would have paused to pay my respects. Perhaps I shall do so one day."

"If thou dost, then pray offer our regards as well," Dálindir said, "we too have not forgotten our allies and friends."

"I shall do so," Helluin said, "yet perhaps thou shalt also meet some traveling thither as I did 'nigh the East Road. They intended to go o'er the High Pass to the Old Ford of Anduin."

"We shall keep watch for them and allow none to hamper their travels," the king said.

'Round him, the other members of his company nodded in agreement. One last parting favor they could do for their allies to honor centuries of shared purpose opposing the darkness.

Now thereafter they spoke much of other concerns in Eriador. The Green Elves continued their protection of Celenhár and the scions of the North Kingdom. In Angmar, they kept watch for any hint of resurgence of evil in Carn Dûm, and they continued their vigilance o'er Fornost, Sûza, and the Emyn Uial.

"Pray offer my greetings to Celeborn of Doriath should thou meet him," Dálindir said.

That request brought a raised brow from the Noldo. Celeborn had dwelt in Thingol's halls of Menegroth and Dálindir had dwelt in the forests of Ossiriand. 'Twas no way the king would have deigned to abide in a cavern no matter how rich, indeed, the richer, the lesser the likelihood. The King of the Laiquendi said 'naught in answer to her unspoken query, and by social convention, Helluin could not pursue her curiosity to ask.

She gave him a nod though and said, "I shall do so, lord, for I expect to meet both he and Artanis, daughter of Finarfin."

The king nodded his thanks. Somewhat later, the Elves went to take some rest ere the dawn of 15 Urui broke. During the hours of darkness, Helluin pondered Dálindir's acquaintance with Celeborn. She had learnt that after Beren and Lúthien's final deaths in 503, Dálindir had returned the Nauglamír to Dior in Menegroth. Helluin's problem was that she only knew what she had heard years later as lore. She had been sequestered in Gondolin 'til its fall in 511, whilst Doriath had been destroyed in the Second Kinslaying in 507. Finally, she realized the futility of her ruminations and abandoned them. Either Celeborn would speak of it or not, and she deemed that, curiosity aside, it bore little upon her either way. She turned her gaze to the sky, watching as the dark vault of Ilmen steadily carried the stars from east to west.

To Be Continued