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.

236. In An Age Before Chapter 236

In An Age Before – Part 236

Now Anor sank 'neath the distant Ered Nimrais and Ithilien fell into darkness. In the steep, narrow vale of Imlad Morgul, it seemed that the shadows 'neath the black cliffs to the north and south simply snapped closed o'er the intervening lowland like paired cabinet doors slamming shut. With the last of the light, Helluin began to mark the passage of time.

Nine fathoms tall the gate and ten fathoms to the wall walk, Helluin thought as she waited, for Minas Ithil is the sister city of Minas Anor, and though they were built to capitalize on their natural settings, some aspects they share in common, traits of Númenórean outpost fortresses for o'er three thousand years. Alas that I visited not during the celebrations following the War of the Last Alliance. I have 'naught but Beinvír's memories of the city, as seen from the Straight Stair.

She spent a short span reviewing the layout of the City of Kings as she had seen it but a fortnight past. Minas Morgul shared more in common with Minas Tirith than not. In Isildur's city, there were five concentric circular walls rather than seven, each with its guarded gate, and they lay on mostly flat land rather than ascending a steep hill. Here too, the fortress was set against mountains that rose to guard the city's back. Here too there was a citadel and a tower within the innermost wall. Here too there was a front gate with paired doors of heavy oak beams laid horizontal without and vertical within, studded with rivets of forged iron, and inset within a frame of monolithic stone blocks. And here too, there was no external portcullis.

When Helluin reckoned that a half-hour had passed since nightfall, she slipped 'round the front of the southern gate tower. To any eyes above on the wall walks, she was but another shadow in a landscape of shadows, pressed to the base of the walls. She moved slowly and with no rhythm hinting at the gait of a living creature. Rather, she took her cadence from the breeze, the motions of cloud shadows, and the swirling of ground fog. 'Neath the cover of her cloak, she displayed no limbs or head. In a surprisingly short time, she had made her way to the outer edge of the southerly door.

Two arrows the Noldo drew from her quiver, broadheads forged in Númenor for war. She grasped one in each hand so that 'naught but the heads protruded from the bottoms of her fists. Then, with slow deliberation, she forced the arrow in her left hand into the seam 'twixt two of the massive timbers that made up the gate. With her right hand, she reached as high as she could and pressed the arrowhead into the next highest seam. Then she set her left foot onto the head of a rivet. Now she hauled her weight upward, and set her right foot on a higher rivet head. Slowly, she freed the arrowhead in her left hand from the wood with an imperceptible wiggle. Slowly, she stretched her left hand up and planted the arrowhead into the next seam 'twixt the oaken timbers.

So Helluin proceeded, left hand, right hand, left foot, right foot, in silence and with no unnecessary motions. 'Neath her cloak, she was just another shadow drifting in concert with the passage of Ithil's crescent through the broken clouds above. Foreshortened to any eyes viewing her from the battlements, she looked like 'naught worthy of a second glance. In this way, o'er the course of the next quarter of an hour, Helluin climbed the southern door of the gate of Minas Morgul, and then she passed from sight into the blackness 'neath the o'erhanging parapet into which the gates were inset. There she rested and waited.

Now as they had upon the prior night, when an hour had passed since nightfall, there came a grumbling and cursing from within the gates, and the tread of heavy boots upon the cobbles in the bailey. The first of that night's Yrch patrols was preparing to take their leave of the city.

The heavy bar being shifted to unblock the gate was announced by the grinding of wheels and the clanking of chains. The required effort elicited much cursing, and then the gates of Minas Morgul were hauled open, (with more curses and the crack of a whip). Helluin felt the mass of oak begin to move and she clung in place for all she was worth. The parting of the doors seemed to take fore'er, yet soon enough, the door was clear of the masonry, and Helluin was no longer hidden by the shadow of the gate's frame.

And now she was forced to move fast. Helluin rolled her body upward onto the top edge of the gate, wrenched her arrows free, and whilst clutching one in each hand, stood and measured her leap from the top edge of the door to the inner edge of the wall walk; nine fathoms tall the gate and ten fathoms to the wall walk. The Noldo easily made the jump of six feet upward, landing with her palms flat on the walking surface of the battlement as the door continued to swing further inward. 'Neath her and none the wiser, the last of the patrol passed out of the city and onto the Morgul Road.

Helluin pulled herself up 'til she could peek onto the wall walk. Standing directly before her at the parapet with their backs to the bailey were a trio of Yrch, leaning out to view the departure of the patrol and casting a few parting insults at them along with their spittle. Helluin surged up onto the wall walk and planted the arrowheads through the necks of the flanking two Yrch from behind. The third began to turn as one of them gasped, and the Noldo wrenched the arrows out of the Yrch's necks and jammed them into the eyes of the remaining Orch, sinking both brain deep. Suppressing a cackle of glee, she then rotated the shafts to stir the contents of his skull. As the clank of chains and the grumbling of Yrch in the bailey attested that the gates were being closed, Helluin eased their cadavers into a deep shadow where the wall walk passed into the southern gate tower, wiped her arrows off on their cloaks, and then drew her bow.

For an occupied city filled with Yrch, Tor, and Ringwraiths, Helluin found the wall walks only sparsely patrolled. She slew another trio of Yrch as they lounged behind the parapet further down the wall walk, complaining 'twixt themselves of the pointless duties assigned to them by the Nazgûl.

"Skai! Look at us! Sundaumi¹, ha! Not feasting in great halls. Stuck keeping watch on this wall," said a small Orch with the pinched face of a rat as he threw up his hands in disgust. ¹(Sundaumi, Conquests = sundaum(conquest) + -i( . n. suff.)Orkish)

He was sitting on the wall walk with his legs splayed straight out in front and his back resting against the battlement. Beside him, his two watchmates sat in similar fashion. Their weapons lay on the ground beside them, swords and short, recurved bows. They had been passing a skin of bitter liquor 'twixt them for most of their shift and now they were airing their grievances in the manner characteristic of their kind.

"Keep watch for what? None come here," said a second, larger Orch with calculating eyes. "You seen any, Golbtru¹?" ¹(Golbtru, Pus Brain = golb(pus) + tru(brain) Orkish)

"Seen nothin'," Golbtru said, "you neither, Underkon¹." ¹(Underkon, Fat Dog = under(adj. fat) + kon(dog) Orkish)

"Pikhosh¹?" Underkon asked the rat-faced Orch. ¹(Pikhosh, Roast Guts = pik(roast) + hosh(guts) Orkish)

"Seen nothing," Pikhosh said, ere repeating, "stuck on this wall."

"None come here," Underkon repeated, and then whispered, "Nazgûl glob¹." ¹(glob, filth Black Speech)

Golbtru and Pikhosh looked 'round nervously, as if expecting one of the Ringwraiths to appear and take their heads. Crouched six fathoms away in a deep shadow beside the same battlement was Helluin, an arrow knocked on her bowstring. When Pikhosh looked in her direction, she let flare the blue battle fire in her eyes. The Orch stared at her, and when his two comrades marked that, they stared too, their three heads aligned in a row. A moment later, all three were pierced like shish kabobs on a skewer by the arrow that had bisected their skulls. They settled back against the battlement in mimicry of comfortable repose as if they dozed on duty. Wishing to leave no tokens behind, Helluin came and pulled her arrow free, cleaning it and then replacing it in her quiver. Such was the way of the Rangers, and long ere that, the way of the Laiquendi.

For the next hour, Helluin hastened to advance in stealth, occasionally slaying sentries and continuing to move towards the tower. She had soon marked that in one matter of design, Minas Ithil fundamentally differed from Minas Anor. Rather than having gates connecting the circles of the city only on a climbing road, Minas Morgul also had transverse walls radiating outward from the tower all the way to the outermost curtain wall. This advantage came of having been built on relatively flat land, and it allowed troops to move quickly to any point on the defensive walls. With stairways to the ground only built inside the strongly guarded watchtowers, the danger of the walls being taken should invaders break through the gate was acceptably low. The Noldo was amazed to be able to bypass all of the ground level streets. She thereby avoided encountering the vast majority of the Ringwraiths' troops, none of which lingered on the walls save when on duty.

I understand why Isildur chose this design for his fortress city, Helluin thought. Being far more inclined to military concerns than his brother Anárion, Isildur completely divorced the civilian precincts from the defense. 'Tis well 'nigh a synthesis of Minas Anor and Fornost Erain.

By preserving her stealth and shooting only those who stood in her way, Helluin reached the radiating wall 'twixt the innermost encircling wall and the tower after the span of an hour. 'Twas three hours ere midnight and she reckoned she would have plenty of time to withdraw.

As sentries at the entrance to the tower from the wall walk stood, not a guard detail of Yrch, but a pair of Tor wearing iron caps and plate armor that covered their shoulders and upper arms. They were armed with massive clubs of wood studded with steel spikes, simple weapons for the simple-minded that required almost no maintenance. A grin spread 'cross the Noldo's lips as Ithil was temporarily obscured by scudding clouds.

Helluin reckoned the length of the transverse wall walk to be 'round fifty rangar, or about seven to eight seconds at a dead run for an armored warrior. 'Twas too long by twice for her plan, and so she began to slip forward more slowly, maintaining her stealth and cleaving to the darkness 'neath the battlement that ran along the side of the wall walk. She was forced to scuttle on all fours like a crab to remain concealed in the gear-toothed shadow cast 'neath each crenellation. For the quarter part of an hour she advanced in that uncomfortable mode, but by then, she had crossed two-thirds of the distance to the Tor. Helluin marked that at present, the end of the wall walk was not aligned with the door in the tower's wall. She would need to await the revolving of the tower to deliver the door into alignment with the transverse wall.

Now the Tor had most likely been commanded to slaughter 'aught that came to the tower 'cross the wall walk, save for Yrch. 'Twas about the most complex order that they could handle, for they were forced to temper 'slaughter 'aught that comes 'cross the wall walk' with 'save for Yrch'. Thinking of more than one thing at a time was not their forte. So, they were predestined to react slowly as they stared down the center of the wall walk whence aforetime Yrch had been wont to come. They well 'nigh ignored the verges and paid no attention to the shadows of the battlements. Besides, the wind driven clouds had been casting moving shadows all night.

As Helluin drew nearer to the Tor, she forced herself to resist the growing urge to cackle with glee, for 'twas to her eyes as if the Tor simply refused to see her. When she had closed the distance to fifteen rangar, she paused and waited the sixth part of an hour ere a door revolved into view. As it approached the required alignment, the Noldo cast a last careful glance 'round, and then took a deep, cleansing breath.

In the next instant, Helluin surged forward in a crouch, remaining in the shadow of the battlements for another five rangar, ere she cut diagonally to the center of the wall walk, directly in front of the two Trolls. At a distance of thirty feet, she abandoned her crouch and charged them upright as fast as her legs could carry her. They saw only a shadow that had separated itself from the unmoving shadows of the battlements and exploded towards them at a lightning pace. They had just begun to react, but too slowly, for the shadow was already directly in front of them, and then it dropped onto its back and slid the last five feet 'til it lay 'twixt them. Then there came a blinding flash and they knew no more.

Helluin had come to a stop with her feet only a few inches from the door to the tower. Above her stood the Tor, petrified with their clubs held aloft, partway through their backswings as they prepared to deliver crushing blows. They would ne'er move again, for the Light of Helluin's fëa had come of the Two Trees, the same source as was preserved in the brilliance of the deadly sun. She relished the fierce expressions frozen on their faces as she climbed back to her feet. Their shift of duty guarding the tower door would last a very long time now.

'Round the fortress, the few Yrch who had actually marked the brief flash of Light deemed it 'naught but some consequence of the Nazgûl's conjuring and they offered each other fear grins as they shivered in terror and then studiously looked away.

By then, the door to the tower had rotated into full alignment with the wall walk. Helluin found that 'twas unlocked, without a bolt thrown inside or out. Only a wrought iron door pull graced the exterior of the entrance. A simple finger lever lifted a latch from the hasp on the interior of the doorframe. The Ringwraiths were well aware of the abject terror that held e'ery one of their mortal chattels in thrall. None would come unbidden and none would intrude. Helluin lifted the latch and eased the door open. No guard stood within, for fear of the Nine was sentry enough. Ere the door could rotate away, she slipped inside.

Now the door opened onto a landing from which stairs hewn of stone ran in spirals upward and downward 'twixt interior and exterior walls. An opening in the interior wall occupied the opposite side of the landing, and beyond that lay a circular chamber dimly lit by moonlight through a number of windows, only one of which was in view. The chamber appeared empty, and all about stood silent with no tell tale of occupation, most particularly, no sniffling, rustling of robes, or tread of boots.

Helluin marked that once within the tower, there was no sensation of movement at all. The landing felt as stable as any she had e'er stood upon. 'Twas certainly sorcery that caused the tower to revolve, and she wondered if the rotation was 'naught but an illusion, yet she could not fathom a reason for it to be a mirage. After a few moments, she banished that useless train of thought and stepped 'cross the landing towards the chamber.

Although aforetime she had explored somewhat of the Barad-dûr in Mordor, she had not expected a similar measure of horrors save perhaps in the dungeons of Minas Morgul. The Ringwraiths had simply not spent the centuries there in which to accumulate thralls and prisoners that Sauron had enjoyed in the Black Land. She had expected to fight her way past Yrch and Tor, and perhaps Easterlings or Haradrim, yet so far, she had seen but few foes and the tower was silent. Still, she easily sensed the taint of evil that lay o'er the city. As expected, there was certainly a great Darkness in residence. In any case, 'naught had prepared her for what she viewed upon breaching the chamber. She froze at the entrance in shock and amazement.

In all aspects of its furnishings, the circular space 'cross the landing from the door was inverted! The floor upon which she trod was in fact the ceiling! A glance up revealed tables, cases of books, chairs, a cold hearth, floor rugs, and all the miscellaneous accouterments of a lord's privy chamber, all arranged in normal fashion save that they clove to the 'ceiling'. Her eyes rove o'er the room, astonished. Had she not suspected sorcery aforetime, she would have been wholly convinced of it in that instant. 'Twas certainly not Isildur's doing, nor that of any Man's hand, she thought in amazement. Whyfor…

Then she felt a chill, as of an icy hand laid upon the back of her neck, and her eyes stilled in their survey upon a richly upholstered armchair set beside the empty hearth. A cloaked Shadow lounged there as if t'were 'naught but a pile of rags, yet booted legs protruded from the ragged hem and gauntleted hands were laid upon the arms. In its left, it clasped a sheathed dagger. Upon the gauntlet of its right hand, she marked a heavy Ring of dull gold. Laid 'cross its knees was a sheathed longsword in a battered scabbard. Tilted back as if in exhaustion was a hood shrouding the empty space where a head should have been.

With a great effort, Helluin tore her eyes from this apparition and carefully searched the remainder of the chamber. Not a crevice or shadow escaped her perusal. She felt the presence of no others. Her eyes snapped back to the seated Ringwraith. The Noldo had ne'er suspected that the undead rested, if 'twas actually sleep that occupied the Nazgûl. Indeed, she had ne'er even considered the possibility. For a moment, she marveled at it, and then she slowly reached down and grasped the Sarchram.

A boon long denied I offer thee this night, she silently told the weapon.

A boon long denied I shall gladly accept this night, replied the First Ring of Power.

With all her strength and millennia of hate, Helluin flung the Grave Wing straight at the Nazgûl, and it flew true, cleanly hewing the hood from the cloak. It rebounded once from the hearth and returned to Helluin's waiting hand.

The beheaded body of the Ringwraith leapt up from its chair, sending its sword clattering to the 'ceiling' at its feet. An unearthly howl of pain and hatred rent the air as it flailed. Flung up in its death throes, the wraith's gauntlets and dagger flew into the air. With a desperate leap, the Noldo flung herself airborne into the room, and ere it could fall back up to the 'ceiling', she snatched the right gauntlet with the Nazgûl's Ring. Then the cloak began to crumple in on itself and a last sigh of resignation, as of a warrior unexpectedly defeated, escaped and the chamber fell silent.

Helluin clutched the black steel gauntlet and stripped away the Ring, immediately recognizing it as one of Celebrimbor's Nine. She had examined it in an Age before, back in Gil-galad's study in Lindon ere the War of the Elves and Sauron. She looked upon it now with wonder as from it came a fell voice. The wraith had not been 'asleep'! It had been constrained immobile to endure direct ethereal communication with Sauron!

The fell voice rose in irritation, but Helluin could understand none of its speech for 'twas too garbled for the ken of living ears. Possessed by the desires to obtain valuable information and perhaps gain the opportunity to taunt her greatest foe, Helluin slipped on the Nazgûl's Ring.

Immediately she felt torment, as if a scorching gleed were encircling her finger, but far more importantly, Helluin perceived the presence and the voice of the Lord of the Rings. Enduring him thus through the Nazgûl's Ring was torture and she wondered if the Nine felt it so. For a moment, the perception of her was not shared.

What wouldst thou, O Herundil¹, Fifth of Nine? Darest thou divest thyself of thy Ring? Darest thou hide thyself in flames, Sorcerer? Thou cannot escape thy bond or thy service, O Gothmog of Morgûl! ¹(Herundil was the birth name of the Fifth Ringwraith in the MERP RPG, aka Akhôrahil the Blind Sorcerer. He was a Númenórean, the cousin and contemporary of Murazor, aka Tindomul, the Witch King)

The slain Ringwraith had been the Lieutenant and Steward of Minas Morgul! Now Sauron could no longer perceive his servant through the captured palantír and suspected that he had rebelled by removing his Ring of bondage. Despite the burning pain, Helluin grinned. Then she diminished the enshrouding fire with which she cloaked herself from his Maia sight.

I have taken thy Ring as I should take thy city, and one day, I shall take thy very life, Abhorrent One. Narrowly I missed destroying thee in Rhûn. I shall not miss thee at our next meeting!

And now Sauron perceived Helluin clearly, standing upon the 'ceiling' of his servant's privy chamber in the Tower of Minas Morgul! Hatred and rage built 'til it o'ercame him as his greatest living foe flaunted her invasion of his new fastness and her dismissal of his wraith. He flung at her 'cross that link several centuries-worth of the power he had accumulated since escaping the Whelming of Númenor, but he was a fraction of a moment too late. Before his Eye, the vision flared.

Helluin deemed that she had endured enough pain from the Ring. As her last words were 'spoken', she called upon her Light and blazed with power that brooked no evil to abide. For an instant, the Ring incandesced upon her finger, and then it vaporized as an ancient fire hotter than Celebrimbor's forge consumed its gold and pulverized its stone, severing their connection. That blast of the Light of Aman met Sauron's Darkness in a vast explosion upon the ethereal plane.

With the Ring destroyed, the detonation had no outlet in the Tower, but on Sauron's end, it brought a harsh reckoning. The Light of the Two Trees blasted from the captured palantír and assailed the fallen Maia as his black cloud enveloped it. The Light was pure agony and his scream of pain shook the roots of the Ephel Dúath. The Seeing Stone immediately went dark. Afterwards, the inky vapor that was Sauron's physical form lay upon the floor like a discarded pelt and it took a span that mortals experienced as several days ere he recuperated sufficiently to rise. Then he brooded, counting his losses and scheming o'er how to amend them.

I shall needs forge a new Ring, yet Orodruin is 'nigh and I alone in Middle Earth now possess the craft. Years it may require, and after, a new soul to tempt and a new servant to dominate. At least Men prosper and there is no lack of eager supplicants.

Yet he had also marked Helluin's threats. She had slain his Nazgûl and taken its Ring! She had threatened not only his existence, but also his sovereignty o'er Isildur's city. By extension, was she threatening to usurp his realm as well? Did she seek to graduate from foe to rival? She was merciless and bloodthirsty and her prowess was unmatched, in his reckoning, second only to his own in Middle Earth. In Rhûn, she had displayed a fearsome weapon of astonishing potency. And without his Ring, he was diminished…vulnerable.

He resolved to treble his watch o'er the Black Land whilst forging the replacement Ring, yet in doing so he was also constrained from reoccupying Dol Guldur to supervise the search for his One Ring. Frustration, rage, fear, and hatred ruled him to such an extreme that his black vapors drew in, condensing so that small droplets of oily, black ichor fell as rain upon the floor 'neath him. 'Round him, the surviving eight Shadows cringed.

Now after the shrieking and flailing of the Ringwraith's death-throes, Helluin deemed her time in Minas Morgul done and she essayed to withdraw. Surely, the unholy ruckus it had raised could not have gone unmarked, despite the apparent dearth of troops. There had also been the unignorable blast of her Light, projected from the tower windows. She snatched up the Nazgûl's gauntlet as a souvenir, returned 'cross the landing to the door, and lifted the latch. When she pulled the door open, she found that because of the tower's slow rotation, it now revealed 'naught but a drop of ten fathoms. With a groan of resignation, Helluin took the stairs.

Like any good spiral staircase in a tower, it descended clockwise with risers of unequal height and treads of unequal breadth, some of them radically so. This was all for the purpose of disadvantaging invaders ascending in a dimly lit, narrow, and unfamiliar space. Worse, because the Nazgûl viewed their phantom world without any need for light, no torches burned there and only the empty rings to hold them still clung to the outer wall. The staircase was completely black.

Helluin was forced to light her way with a dim ril of silver and gold, projected from her fëa as she listened for any trace of pursuit. Not for the first time, she was thankful for the consuming terror in which Mordor's mortal minions regarded the Ringwraiths. Ere she reached the bottom of the staircase, she deemed that none would come to its aid unbidden. What she could not understand was, why had she found only one?

There are supposed to be nine of them here, so where are the other eight? And yet, if e'er there had been more than one Nazgûl commanding Angmar, no account tells of it, Helluin thought. Only the Witch King had been seen in battle. Could it be that only one was left to command Minas Morgul? All the lore I have heard tells of the Nine assailing Isildur's city and that implies that they had all remained after its fall. Could Sauron have left one in charge and recalled the other eight? If he had, who would know?

Huh, she thought, for the past year, no report has placed more than one Nazgûl in Minas Morgul, and no one in Gondor can tell them apart. Who amongst the living has seen all of the Nine gathered at one time and in one place? Of mortals, any who had must have been too terrified to mark any distinctions amongst them, and now the sight of any implies the presence of all.

Helluin shook her head at that. Had she only known aforetime, she could have arranged for Minas Morgul to be invested and perhaps even retaken, but now, ere she returned to the watch detail at the mouth of Imlad Morgul and sent word to the City of Kings, another would have taken up residence, dispatched post haste from Mordor to command Sauron's newest holding. Gondor could ne'er mobilize in time.

Ahhh well, she thought, one must accept such gifts as are given and take such rewards as one can. One down, eight to go. By then, she had found another landing and another door in the exterior wall.

Upon inching the door at the base of the tower open just wide enough to catch a glimpse outside, she marked an indecisive gaggle of Yrch standing in the road out front and fearfully staring up at the tower. A pair of Tor guarded the door, too stupid to be suspicious, for no alarm had been raised. They stared at the Yrch, intimidating the smaller creatures 'til they shuffled off down the road.

Helluin waited 'til the Yrch were out of sight and then she flung the door open, startling the Tor. They whipped 'round towards her and for a moment they simply stared as she laughed at them. Then they lunged forward to struggle through the door, forced to crouch down on all fours to pass the threshold and then badly cramped within the narrow stairwell. She gave way, backing up the stairs so that they could enter fully, and then she blasted them with a ril of petrifying Light.

After the Tor had turned to stone, Helluin was forced to climb o'er and 'round them to reach the door. She had been quite careful, making certain that neither of them blocked it, yet they had left precious little space to pass them on the stairs once they were frozen. When she finally squeezed by and regained the exit from the tower stairs, she saw no one on the road and stepped out, closing the door behind her.

Thereafter, her withdrawal encompassed alternately clinging to shadows to pass the few Yrch she saw, or hastening with silent tread down deserted streets and alleys. Along the way, she marked boisterous chatter, bickering, and inebriated declamations from some crowded taverns where off-duty troops feasted and drank. Those actually standing guard or patrolling the wall walks were few by comparison. Soon, Helluin perceived that the rest were hiding. Again, she found herself thankful for the terror that seeped from the Nazgûl, for 'twas obvious that it served as both a defense and a cause for all of mortal blood to avoid being exposed at any cost.

Huh, she thought, they are prisoners in their own city, beset with foes and fearful 'friends'. Do any of them wonder what they fight for?

After 'nigh an hour of creeping forward in stealth or racing forward in haste, Helluin reached the verge of the bailey behind the gates. Save for that space being bracketed by two of the radiating walls intersecting the curtain wall, 'twas much the same as in Minas Tirith. There, she found several small companies of Yrch, some ready to unbar the gate and others waiting to relieve sentries upon the walls. They were preoccupied, complaining and bickering with each other in what passed for warm camaraderie. Helluin chose a deep shadow 'twixt a gate tower wall and a rain barrel and took cover. In less than half an hour, she reckoned, one of the patrols would prepare to depart the city, or the previous patrol would return. In either case, when the gate was opened, she would escape.

Now it came to pass that Helluin had not so long to wait. She had been comfortably concealed by the shadow for 'naught but the sixth part of an hour when she heard the tramp of feet. A dozen Yrch had just entered the bailey, shuffling forward towards the gate in no particular order. They were obviously disgruntled, cursing and jostling each other, and it seemed they looked forward little to walking their patrol outside the walls.

Upon their arrival, they traded insults with the company manning the gate. A bit of shoving ensued, but all was resolved by the threats of the ranking officer who snapped his whip o'erhead and threatened all equally with being reported to the Gothmog. That silenced them and the patrol formed up behind the gate. The gatekeepers hauled on the chains and the heavy timber bolt began to rise from its brackets on the back of the doors. Helluin slipped forward, cleaving to the shadows and passing in absolute silence.

The bolt shifted away and with much grunting and cursing, the gate company hauled on the doors. They creaked open a foot and then a yard. Soon, a gap of three yards lay 'twixt their edges and the patrol began to advance out onto the Morgul Road.

Helluin waited for the last of them to come abreast of the doors, and whilst the gate company was bracing themselves and preparing to shove the doors closed, she broke from cover and raced after them. She came with Anguirél in her right hand and the Sarchram in her left, both arms outstretched to clear her path. The Yrch at the gate barely marked her presence ere she was past them, hewing down the last in the patrol. They had all been caught at unawares by the suddenness of her onslaught, and indeed they remained paralyzed with indecision as she passed amongst them. The Yrch did not recover 'til she was ten yards down the road, running full out towards the bridge.

The first defenders to react were a trio of archers upon the walls. They set arrows to their bowstrings and released in a frenzy amidst a growing cacophony of shouted alarms. Alas, there were no able marksmen amongst them. Against close-bunched foes slowly marching, they could have taken some lives. Against a single, fleet-footed target, they were woefully inadequate in their bowcraft. Arrows fell short or carried long. They bounced off the paving stones of the road or struck amongst the boulders that hedged the paving. Even had they been blessed with the dumb luck to have struck their target, Helluin's mithril armor would have turned their arrows causing her little more than a grunt on impact. Instead, they continued firing 'til 'twas obvious that they had no longer the range in their bows to challenge her escape.

Of the dozen Yrch who had made up the patrol, seven remained living. These finally charged after the Noldo once they saw that their archers had ceased firing. None amongst them trusted that they might not be struck by those with whom they had traded insults and curses for the past year. By the time they gave chase after their foe, they were already 'nigh a furlong behind and there was simply no possibility that they could outplace a swift elleth. They acted primarily to be able to claim that they had done 'aught that they could and not shirked their duty.

'Twas to their credit that they struggled along, maintaining the chase 'til they reached the bridge o'er the Morgulduin. There they rested, panting and cursing, and preparing to return to the fortress with tales of their great valor, all of them exaggerations and lies. Behind them, Helluin climbed up from 'neath the bridge, cutting off their retreat and assailing them with the Black Sword and her dagger. She took three heads in the first moments of combat and then when the remaining four fled, she pursued them with cackles of glee.

The Yrch ran as they had ne'er run aforetime. Fear gave them fleetness afoot far beyond their norm. Coming from behind, Helluin cut them down one by one 'til only the patrol commander remained. She was truly impressed by how far he carried on, though in Imladris she had heard the tales of Tindomul's host as they fled from Fornost towards Carn Dûm.

In the end, Helluin hounded the Orch with slaps on the buttocks using the flat of her sword blade. He ne'er stopped moving, but for the last half-mile, he was wheezing and staggering whilst she jogged along beside him, cajoling him to continue.

"Just a bit further, O most perseverant of soldiers," she told him, "just a short way 'til thou escape the danger of the valley."

Knowing no better, he thought that she intended to let him go and take her own path once they had passed from Imlad Morgul. At the mouth of the valley, Helluin simply stopped chasing him and called out, "I have brought ye tidings and a prisoner. Pray convey him to Sergeant Hísring."

Then from their blinds, a dozen Rangers broke cover, and amongst them were Draugrán and Dúnriel who had beseeched the sergeant for assignment to the forward watch so as to await Helluin's reappearance. They pointed their knocked arrows at the Orch. He gave a gasp and fell onto his back in utter exhaustion, panting for breath.

After providing water to the prisoner, binding his hands, and setting a sack o'er his head, they led him away to a pleasant glade, there to await the sergeant. Ne'er would they have taken him to their detail's watch post. Helluin waited with them, sipping from a water skin and eating some rations. Despite their curiosity, she deferred beginning her tale, electing to save her tidings for the sergeant, and the Rangers understood. They too were bound to first report their findings to their commanding officer.

Now after the space of only ten minutes, Sergeant Hísring arrived with another dozen Rangers. He greeted Helluin with thanksgiving for her safety and then enquired as to their prisoner.

"He commanded a patrol detail of twelve that march the innermost circuit from Minas Morgul, and he may know somewhat of the conditions there regarding troop strength and deployment," she said. "I have seen the lack of morale amongst the troops there and I deem that it derives from their fear of the Nazgûl."

"I wager thou hast seen more than the condition of the foe's troops?"

"Indeed so, sergeant, but I would refrain from conveying that information in the prisoner's presence," Helluin said, silently displaying the Nazgûl's gauntlet.

Sergeant Hísring's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of it, but he nodded in understanding. Then with a glare, he silenced the unbidden whispers of his Men. Even if a prisoner's escape was a scant possibility, 'twas poor procedure to allow a foe to hear 'aught of intelligence gleaned by his scouts. Helluin tucked the gauntlet back into her travel bag. Hísring turned then to the Orch who sat tied to the trunk of a tree, and with a nod, bid a Ranger to strip the hood from his head.

The Orch shrank back from the bleary sight of so many foes encircling him and he blinked, his eyes now no longer constrained to full darkness. Although dawn still lay an hour off, the moonlight and starlight seemed bright compared to the inside of the sack. He continued to blink 'til his eyes adjusted and the sharpness returned to his vision.

"Hast thou a name?" Asked Sergeant Hísring. "I bid thee speak on pain of death."

The Orch's head jerked 'round to meet him and he cringed back, shivering. Then his eyes slipped away to find Helluin's and he dared to meet them, unaware of the danger. There he was constrained ere he knew to expect it. The sergeant and the Rangers watched as he froze in place, his shivering stilled, and a grimace shaped his features.

Flas, glûr! Shûmb begud!¹ Helluin demanded, silently and directly to his mind. ¹(Flas, glûr! Shûmb begud!, Speak, prisoner! Tell name! Orkish)

The Orch whimpered and clamped his hands o'er his ears, but that would not silence her voice.

Shûmb narfûrogh ha shukulab¹, she added for the sake of persuasiveness. ¹(Shûmb narfûr ogh ha shukulab, Tell truth or (we) eat your balls! Orkish)

Once he digested the shock of hearing the Orkish tongue from the Elf, he realized that she sounded just like his own people…violent, threatening, and hungry. Perhaps Orcs and Elves were not so different after all, for rumor told that they had been the same once, 'til Morgoth cast the Elves out, making them feeble and effete.

Bugduz Âthtram¹, the Orch finally declared with pride. ¹(Bugduz Âthtram, Named Dog Rape Orkish)

Helluin nodded and then blinked to release him.

"He names himself Âthtram, which is Dog Rape," Helluin told Sergeant Hísring, adding that, "though it may be only a universally accepted nickname. Many Yrch have 'naught else."

The sergeant nodded whilst a couple of Rangers snickered. Helluin was thankful that they had left Húveren back in Minas Tirith. Âthtram looked 'twixt them, unsure of what to expect.

The interrogation continued with Sergeant Hísring asking his questions, Âthtram looking to Helluin for translations, and then the Noldo and the Orch conversing silently in Orkish, or occasionally, the high Black Speech. Through it all, Âthtram seemed resigned, at times terrified, but o'erall, cooperative.

Mamak Nazgûl¹? Helluin asked Âthtram, for the Ranger sergeant. ¹(Mamak Nazgûl, How many Ringwraiths Orkish)

Ash¹, the Orch replied with certainty though the legacy of fear was easy to read in him. ¹(Ash, One Black Speech)

Mamak Uruk-hai¹? ¹(Mamak Uruk-hai, How many Orc folk Orkish)

The Orch paused a moment, his fingers moving as if he counted upon them. Finally, he said, skritor¹. ¹(skritor, eight thousand Orkish)

Mamak Oleg-hai¹? ¹(Mamak Oleg-hai, How many Troll folk Orkish)

Âthtram paused even longer o'er this, his lips moving as he tallied his best guess. At last, he said, gakhbûr¹, though with palpable uncertainty. ¹(gakhbûr, three hundred Orkish)

Helluin blinked and released him again, then passed his information on to the sergeant.

"Sergeant Hísring, Âthtram reports that there are eight thousand Yrch in Minas Morgul, but only one Nazgûl to command them. There are also three hundred Tor, though he seems unsure of that count."

The sergeant nodded his thanks and then withdrew to confer with several Rangers. One departed after, beginning his race west to the crossroads where he could obtain the use of a horse. In a few hours, Âthtram the Orc's words would be heard in Minas Tirith.

Afterwards, Sergeant Hísring asked Helluin, "What shall we do with him now? Is there 'aught else that he may tell?"

"I am sure there is plenty, but t'would be 'naught of import," she replied, "only the aims of petty schemes, complaints against superiors, accusations against rivals, curses against enemies, and the like."

Âthtram seemed to know what they debated, as t'would be the same for him, considering the fate of a prisoner who had 'naught more to offer. He sighed and gave Helluin a pointed look.

Mabaj bot ob armauk¹, he observed to her silently. ¹(Mabaj bot ob armauk, I have a world of enemies Orkish)

Helluin nodded to him in agreement, and perhaps the faintest hint of sympathy.

Úl-lat ashbazg mat kordh-ishi¹? She asked him. ¹(Úl-lat ashbazg mat kordh-ishi, Would you rather die in bed Orkish)

To this rhetorical question, he gave her an appreciative chuckle. She really did understand his people. Death was inescapable, but the manner of one's death and their state at that time could be influenced. Âthtram's goal had always been to die having more others subservient to his will than commanding his obedience. Such grasping for power could not be done whilst lying in sloth. It had to be fought for. He had achieved more than most, though less than some. As if reading his mind, (and he was not convinced that such was impossible), Helluin asked, Urdanog rogu-ob, mol ûl-lat mat¹? ¹(Urdanog rogu, mol ûl-lat mat, Commander of guards, how would you die? Orkish)

Without a moment's hesitation, he answered, maukug¹! ¹(maukug, fighting Orkish)

Akh¹! Helluin exclaimed in approval, and Âthtram smiled. ¹(Akh, Yes Orkish)

Unlike the Tarks¹ surrounding them, the she-elf understood…she knew what it meant to be a warrior! He nodded to her in thanks and saw that she was already untying her sword belt. ¹(Tarks, Rangers Orkish)

"Sergeant, honor demands that I offer this prisoner the boon of a fitting death," she said. "Pray have thy Men clear the glade, but hold the verges at arrow point. I need one dagger."

Sergeant Hísring nodded to her and gave orders to his Rangers. They displayed their daggers and Helluin chose one from a Ranger of Lebennin that was most akin to her own in size and shape. Then they backed off, encircling the glade amongst the surrounding trees where they readied their bows. Helluin drew her dagger and then passed her sword belt with Anguirél and the Sarchram still attached to Sergeant Hísring, and then he too withdrew.

Now she approached the tree where Âthtram was bound, and with the borrowed Ranger dagger, cut his bonds, freeing him. She tossed the dagger on the ground 'twixt his feet and then backed away several fathoms. Surprising the Rangers, he did not snatch it up and leap to his feet straightaway. Rather, he remained seated at the base of the tree.

Âthtram did what any warrior would do with a respite ere combat. He first massaged and worked his wrists where the bonds had bitten, restoring their circulation and flexibility. With deliberate movements, he unwound the coils that had held him fast to the tree and stretched his legs, then arched his back and tilted his neck to loosen the joints of his spine, hips, knees, and ankles. When he stood, he left the dagger and instead bent to touch his toes, then twisted 'round side to side, and finally swung his arms in windmill circles to loosen his shoulder. Helluin waited, unmoving and he felt no hurry. When he finally completed his preparations, he picked up the dagger, felt its weight, checked the balance of its blade, and tested the feel of its grip.

He did not expect to prevail in this contest. He had seen how quickly the she-elf had dispatched the remainder of his company on the road. Her untiring pace had 'nigh driven him to collapse ere they had reached the end of the Morgul Vale. Yet Âthtram intended to honor the combat he had been granted by doing his best. They could more easily and quickly have lopped off his head and left his body to be savaged by animals after taking the choicest morsels for their stewpots.

Finally, Âthtram was satisfied that all his preparations had been made and he paced forward 'til he stood a fathom from the she-elf. Then, he raised the dagger and briefly touched his forehead with the tip of the blade as he saluted his foe. She returned his salute, her eyes clear and grim.

"Dab kamush mau, lûpizg begdlab¹," Âthtram said aloud, knowing that she spoke the Orkish tongue. ¹(Dab kamush mau, lûpizg begdlab, My thanks, warrior, I ask your name Orkish)

"Helluin Nazgûl-mundas Mal Ghâshûrz agh Ghâshgûl Malu Mîgul¹," she replied, her voice firm and clearly audible. ¹(Nazgûl-mundas Mal Ghâshûrz agh Ghâshgûl Malu Mîgul, Ringwraith Victor (of) Fiery Mountain aka Úlairdacil of Orodruin and Firewraith (of) Misty Mountains Orkish)

Âthtram dipped his head in appreciation of the honor done him. He had heard tales of her from ancient times. Here he faced no common soldier. T'would be no shame to fall 'neath her blade. Far greater foes than Âthtram the patrol commander had died by her hand.

Now Helluin and Âthtram circled each other, daggers at the ready. When they clashed, the blades rang as they met in attacks and parries, and 'twas quickly evident that the Orch was no stranger to personal combat with short bladed weapons. 'Round them, the Rangers paid closer attention lest they should meet such a foe one day.

Helluin was honestly impressed with Âthtram's prowess. There was 'naught fey in his combat. He ne'er charged at her brandishing his dagger or she would have slit his throat in the first seconds. He voiced no threats, but rather minded his breathing. His stance was balanced and preserved his center of gravity without becoming o'er extended. She found his movements abrupt and direct, graceless, but very fast. There was strength too, behind his slices, thrusts, and parries. 'Twas obvious that he had practiced long and probably slain many enemies.

In their first clash, Âthtram found the speed and grace he had expected from an Elf, but also far more strength than he had foreseen. His blows she turned away with authority and he barely managed to protect himself from the following counters. She seemed to have no fear of closing to close quarters, and with unexpected turns of her blade, she threatened him constantly. His attempts to grapple her with his free hand were met with movements that jeopardized his joints, as if she would lock his wrist or elbow. He could not but disengage and back off to recover.

Six times, they clashed and parted, vigorously and with deadly intent, but now, after only a few minutes of life or death effort, the expenditure began to tell upon the Orch. Ne'er blessed with a proper diet in plenty or sufficient rest, his conditioning was forged more from hardship and constant wariness. His nature was to slay his opponents quickly and decisively using surprise or any other available advantage. Here, there were none. Sustained physical exertion did not favor him. He felt the racing of his heartbeat whilst she heard the labor of his breathing.

On their seventh engagement, Âthtram led with a slice directed at her right forearm and a kick aimed at her right knee. Helluin spun away to his left as she had aforetime, but he was a hair slower in turning and lowering his blade to guard. As she slipped past, he felt the drag and sting as her dagger sliced through the flesh above his left hip. 'Twas not a deep or deadly wound, but it signaled a change in the balance 'twixt them, for the Orch would only continue to tire. He gave her a grim nod, acknowledging first blood.

Now they clashed again and for the eighth time. After the initial confrontation, Âthtram reversed his grip so the blade extended from the bottom of his fist, and to match him, Helluin changed her grip as well. The Orch advanced, leading with his right foot, and attacked with a vicious downward, stabbing blow towards her chest. Helluin stepped forward with her left foot to match him, closing the distance unexpectedly.

Rather than parry his blade with her own as she had done in the past, she sharply raised both of her arms. Her left forearm met his right that held his dagger. The mithril plates of her gauntlet slammed against his right wrist, breaking bones and stopping his downward thrust. The crossguard of her dagger caught his right elbow as she jerked her right hand upward. The motion of the two impacts twisted Âthtram's forearm horizontal like a lever, his elbow turning inwards, wrenching his shoulder and driving his upper body to his right. In shock, the Orch looked Helluin in the eyes for the briefest moment. He saw her determination turn into something completely cold, reptilian, and terrifying.

When the motion of Âthtram's forearm twisting out of its way freed her dagger, Helluin's right arm continued upwards 'til it straightened, and then she slammed it down. With her dagger jutting from the bottom of her fist, the movement drove the blade hilt deep into his chest. It shattered his left collarbone, slipped behind his sternum, and pierced his heart. She immediately pulled it free and he began to choke on the gush of blood fountaining up within his body. His last glance found her eyes and the look of a soulless killer was gone, replaced, not by gloating or triumph, but by resignation, as though she had seen this outcome a thousand times and it had ne'er been in doubt. He was dead ere he hit the ground.

'Round them, the Rangers stood silent, shocked by the sudden resolution of the combat. Since they had first engaged, it had appeared that Helluin and the Orch were evenly matched, but that had ne'er been the case. No Orch could match the Noldo with a blade, but Helluin had chosen to honor an enemy warrior with an honorable death. She had taken his measure 'til his exhaustion had proved the certainty of his defeat. They had both understood this. He had conveyed his acceptance in his last nod. Thereafter, she had minimized his suffering, for she had no cause to prolong the torment of a mortal foe.

Helluin bent and retrieved the Ranger dagger that Âthtram had used. She cleaned his blood from it and from her own weapon using the hem of his cloak, and then she returned the borrowed blade to its rightful owner. From Sergeant Hísring, she retrieved her sword belt, sheathed her dagger, and donned her weapons. Then in silence, she began to gather fallen wood.

At first, the Rangers knew not what to think, but the sergeant realized what she intended to do, and after he joined her, his Men followed their commander. In short order, a crude pyre was laid. Helluin and Draugrán lifted the Orch and laid him atop the wood. Dúnriel kindled the tinder 'neath the stack of branches.

Sergeant Hísring tilted his head to Helluin and asked if perhaps they should relocate the watch post, for the smoke and flame would draw the enemy.

"Fear not, good sergeant, the soldiery of Minas Morgul have more to contend with than a fire beyond their borders," she told him. "I slew the Nazgûl from whom I took the gauntlet, and I destroyed his Ring. Sauron knows his fortress has no commander now and replacing the Fifth of the Nine shall be his first concern. I deem we are safe this day."

He nodded to her, concealing his shock by gazing off to the east. There o'er the Ephel Dúath, the sky was lightening as the first hint of Anor's coming heralded the dawn of 5 Hithui.

To Be Continued

Author's notes: In this story, the Orkish translations derive from vocabulary and grammar web pages and come from secondary sources such as online communities and role-playing games. They are contrived and not Tolkien canon. Black Speech is attested Tolkien canon, (mostly from the One Ring inscription), and is extremely limited when trying to create dialog.