In An Age Before – Part 244
Now Helluin had directed the Rangers to position themselves amongst the wagons, deploying them to establish a rear defense of the slaves and Prince Eärnur's supply train, and hoping to preserve them against the mounted charges she foresaw from their enemies. They deposited their packs in the mouth of the pass and then took up defensive positions, creating a perimeter 'round the wagons with their bows and seeking concealment in the shadows.
"T'would seem that we alone have not brought foes trailing our path," Dúnriel remarked to Sergeant Orodben, whom she had placed herself beside in hopes of protecting her commanding officer.
"Arrrrgh, speak not too soon lest thou jinx us," he replied with a grim grin. "After all else unexpected that has befallen, I should not be surprised to find companies of Yrch at our backs."
Looking pointedly at the slave wagons, the Dúnadaneth chuckled and replied, "Those we have already brought with us, sergeant. I wager we shall next be assailed by a company of Tor."
Sergeant Orodben groaned after following her glance to the wagons full of 'Snaga' and then recalled the Torog from the fortress that Helluin had set free. Finally though, he shook his head and laughed at the absurdity of it all.
"Perhaps instead t'will be the surviving seven Nazgûl that come upon our rear, for Helluin deemed the Troll harmless," he said.
Grinning, Dúnriel asked, "Now whose words shall jinx us?"
As e'er, the time spent waiting for battle after the preparations were complete seemed both longer and shorter than was comfortable. Within only a few minutes, the knights began fidgeting, causing the horses to shift their hooves and chomp their bits. The shields they had borne for years suddenly felt awkward, their stirrups were adjusted too high or too low, and the gauntlets they had worn 'til they fit like second skins were sticky and sweaty 'round their fingers. The squires stood atop the cargo in the beds of the supply wagons, searching the dark or needlessly settling and resettling their quivers of arrows amongst the bundles and crates. Rangers flexed their hands and adjusted how they grasped the grips of their bows. The warriors from Samara fiddled with their weapons and their horses sensed their disquiet 'til they snorted and shook out their manes and tails. To both of these cadres, but to the Rangers in particular, 'twas strange, preparing to meet an enemy whilst so exposed.
Meanwhile, the 'Snaga' had ne'er ceased muttering and commenting 'tween themselves in a low cacophony of the harsh Orkish tongue. 'Twas ironic that o'er two hundred and fifty Men and Elves could accept hearing such speech at their backs, yet seek for their foes ahead rather than behind.
At the fore, Maglor, Helluin, and Eärnur alone were still. They kept close watch on the approach of the rising dust, trying to guess the count of their enemies and the time of their arrival. For the Prince of Gondor, 'twas a challenge of other Men, lesser Men in his opinion, and though the Dúnedain could be o'ercome by numbers, he was sure they would not be outfought.
The Noldor traded thoughts in a glance, speaking together in silence.
More come from the east than from the south, meldir nín, Helluin said.
Aye, and they shall arrive the sooner. For a short span, we may have parity in numbers, Maglor replied.
Yet with the arrival of the Southrons, we shall be disadvantaged 'nigh two to one.
I would not have them come upon a battle already joined, meldis nín, for they may prove to be each others' foes as much as ours, Maglor said.
They may contend against each other, yet I wager they hate the Gondorim more, Helluin said.
The Prince of the Noldor nodded, agreeing with Helluin's assessment, and then he smiled.
Aforetime we faced greater counts of foes and prevailed. Back to back at the last, we shall fight if the battle goes ill.
Helluin recalled the first time they had fought side by side. In the aftermath, not an Orch had been left to draw breath. Yet their foes this time would be Men of Harad and Khand, not Yrch, and they had not the aid of his brother. Still…
Thou art one of the Calaquendi, mighty upon the Mortal Shores. Shed thy cloak and appear as thou art…as one who saw the Trees. Let those who would oppose thee see what they face.
Not in two Ages have I appeared thus, meldis nín. For the deeds of darkness and the evil that came of our oath, I felt unworthy to claim the Light of my own fëa, the Light my father set within his jewels.
Helluin nodded to her old friend. He would do as he saw fit and she understood his reasons for whiche'er choice he made.
I shall trust in thee, meldir nín, and I shall guard thy back. We walk away from this fight, even if we walk away alone, she said as she donned her blackened coif of mithril rings to constrain her hair and then pulled up her hood.
I shall trust in thee, meldis nín, and I shall trust in the fate the Eagle declared to thee, he said, offering her a smile. Then he looked away to the east and said aloud, "Khand draws 'nigh."
Helluin followed Maglor's gaze, as did Prince Eärnur. The first approaching foes could be seen rounding the promontory to the east as the loose formation of a mounted army trotted forward behind a pair of torch-bearing riders.
Then the Prince of Gondor rose to stand in his stirrups. He pointed at them with his lance and the Noldor heard him declare, "Foes to the east! They shall feel the wrath of Gondor."
His knights gave a great roar as with one voice, brandishing their weapons and shouting, "Gondor! Gondor! Gondor!"
Helluin winced. The Men of Khand screamed counter-challenges in their foreign tongue and one at their head made a sweeping gesture, urging them forward. They drew scimitars as they came to a gallop, charging 'cross the last two furlongs towards the foot of the pass, and the eyes of the defenders made their count no fewer than their own. Yet from the waiting cavalry, a single dark horse walked forward to meet them, and its rider was hooded and draped in black. It raised a black sword in one armored hand and rose from its saddle.
"Mirz hûrat ushdarat dargumob gothûrzaz?¹" That horror demanded in a harsh voice like grinding stones that struck fear into the hearts of e'ery one of the Khandish warriors, though only one in ten understood the Black Speech. ¹(Mirz hûrat ushdarat dargumob gothûrzaz? Who dares to challenge emissary of most powerful master? = mirz(who?) + hûr-(v. dare) + -at(pres. suff, dares) + ushdar-(v. challenge) + -at(inf v suff) + dargum(emissary) + -ob(of) + gothûrzaz(most powerful master) Orkish)
Now the Men of Khand were not servants of Sauron in that time, though they had allied with him and called him both god and master long ago. Still, they knew and feared his Ringwraiths from of old, for many tales told of the terror of their dark sorcery. 'Twas said that a single wound from their accursed blades wrought worse than death. Yet after their defeat in South Ithilien at the hands of General Eärnil in 1944, they held a more recent hatred of Gondor, for they had been allies of the Wainriders and the Haradrim. Many Men of Khand had lost fathers and grandfathers to Gondor's Southern Army.
'Twas surely one of Sauron's unmistakable Nine that confronted them, and the Ringwraith stood with Knights of Gondor at its back as if they had made common cause. Yet Gondor would ne'er ally itself with Mordor; this they all believed without a doubt. Here they were presented with a mare's nest that gave them pause, and in uncertainty, they reined in their steeds and broke from their charge so that they faced the allies 'cross a scant thirty yards. Then they milled in confusion and their Agha¹ called for the most learned amongst them to translate what the Nazgûl had said. The chief and his counselor spoke in haste and with urgency, for the Nazgûl had continued to walk its horse forward and now the horror drew 'nigh. ¹(Agha, Chief Turkish equiv. of Mongolian Aka, 'elder brother'.)
Helluin watched them carefully from 'neath her hood. She reckoned the leader was about thirty-five years of age and his translator perhaps half again older, pasty, and a bit corpulent. Weak of heart!
As the Agha's advisor prepared to deliver their response, she preempted him by commanding, "Hoqsha! Skâtlak nar-dun Nazgûl sha dûmpuga glûru!¹" ¹(Hoqsha! Skâtlak nar-dûn Nazgûl sha dûmpuga glûru!, Withdraw! (You all)Come not 'twixt (a)Nazgûl and doomed captives! = hoq-(v. draw) + -sha(with) + skât-(v. come) + lak(you all) + nar-(not) + -dûn(between) + Nazgûl + sha(and) + dûmpuga(doomed) + glûru(captives) Orkish)
She was gratified to see fear blossom in the advisor's eyes as he realized that she had claimed the Men of Gondor were prisoners, bewitched by the Ringwraith. 'Twas no way for him to tell what they believed now, or what they might do at the Nazgûl's command. In a tremulous voice, he conveyed her words and his fears to the Agha whose eyes grew wide in response. The Agha desperately raised both of his empty hands and gave her a pleading look, beseeching the wraith for a moment so he could think of what to do.
To intensify their fear, Helluin leant forward towards them o'er the neck of her horse as she came abreast of the Agha. She slowly swung her head to appraise one then the other, and she muttered as if in contemplation, "Narkraur fulaknar. Pâshuk snag matum-thu.¹" ¹(Narkraur fulaknar. Pâshuk snag matum-thu. Nobody safe. All can serve beyond death. = narkraur(nobody) + fulaknar(safe) + -uk(all) + pâsh-(v. can) + snag-(v. serve) + -thu(beyond) + matum(death) Orkish)
The advisor had obviously understood her as he choked on his words and desisted from counseling the Agha. He fell silent and stared at her in abject horror. Helluin stared back at him from 'neath the depths of her hood and drew Anguirél's black blade slowly through the fist of her left mithril gauntlet, prolonging the threatening sound of grating steel.
Being now eye-to-eye with the Khandish advisor, she held him thrall with her glance and projected her memories of the Nine advancing against her in the Sammath Naur into his captive mind. He had no understanding of the mechanism of Ósanwe, or that his viewpoint had been hers. He saw what she forced him to see; that the one he faced had once accompanied the other Nazgûl as they stalked within the legendary Cracks of Doom. 'Twas as if in the present, he lived that nightmare. He felt the oppressive heat rising from the unquiet lava and parching his skin, smelt the brimstone scorching his lungs, and saw the shifting, ruddy light of incandescent, molten stone. The roar of super-heated fumes rising up the volcano's chimney filled his ears. 'Twas just how the priests of his people described hell. He saw the central Ringwraith stop advancing and shriek in rage.
Just ere the vision reached the point at which Helluin had loosed her first trio of arrows, the advisor's face crumpled in agony and he clutched desperately at his chest. He felt a crushing weight there and pain spiked in his arm, then dark spots sizzled 'cross his vision and he felt faint.
"Izub,¹"Helluin claimed as she blinked and released him, and the Man gasped and fell from his saddle. ¹(Izub, Mine Orkish)
He struck the ground with a dull thud. Not a breath did he take after, but lay at the hooves of his horse, still and wide-eyed, staring sightlessly up at the unforgiving sky. Helluin had terrified him 'til his heart seized and he dropped dead.
Behind the Agha, the rest of the Men of Khand gasped in shock. The Nazgûl had slain one of them without so much as a touch. Surely 'twas some dark sorcery. Beside her, the Agha looked stricken, but his paralysis swiftly graduated to rage. 'Twas folly perhaps, but the translator had been his friend. He started to rise in his stirrups as if to issue some command, and Helluin hewed off his head with a blindingly abrupt stroke of Anguirél. She was only mildly surprised when his body collapsed forward o'er the neck of his horse, but fell not from the saddle, his hands still clasping the reins in a literal death grip. Fearful and left on its own absent any commands from its rider, the Agha's mount shied away to rejoin the other horses, carrying their headless leader back to his troops. The advisor's steed followed.
The dark Noldo was quite pleased with how her macabre performance had played out and would have deemed her impersonation of a Nazgûl wholly successful had she not sensed the nearing of hoof beats. The army from Khand was ready to bolt in terror, and to amplify the effect, Helluin slowly drew her dagger with her left hand and spread both arms wide to display the weapons. She began edging her horse towards the Men of Khand in an attempt to precipitate their flight, for she deemed their resolve and morale hung by a hair. The start of a rout was but heartbeats away. Many started to back off, cringing, yet some amongst them were already beginning to split their attention, their eyes drifting from her to the south. Alas, she had simply run out of time.
Oh for crying aloud, she whined to herself, and I just gave the performance of a lifetime…ahhh well.
The dramatic timing of the translator's death had been impeccable and his delivery tastefully restrained, yet now it seemed that all the success of her ruse would be for 'naught. Amongst the ranks of the Rangers, the escalation of the action had left most with questions.
"Was that a parlay?" Asked one of Draugrán, for they had all long known that he and Dúnriel had accompanied Helluin from Eriador.
"I wager Helluin sought to dissuade them from the field by impersonating a Ringwraith again, Áariel¹," he said. ¹(Áariel, Sea Maiden = aear(sea) + riel(maiden) In compound proper names, the diphthong –ae becomes -á and the duplicate –r is elided. Sindarin)
"And they must be wavering, for they did 'naught when she slew their leader," she reasoned.
"What I wonder most is how she slew that first Man," Draugrán said. "I would swear she ne'er touched him."
"The one that fell off his horse?" Áariel asked. "Perhaps the evil eye can indeed kill. There are tales of the Elves…"
"Looks like more trouble has come," he said, canting his head to the south where the sound of cavalry had grown and the first shadowy figures of horsemen were taking form at the verge of sight.
"And soon, Helluin shall be trapped 'twixt two armies of foes," Áariel said, her brow furrowed with worry. "She should retreat at once."
"They would fall upon her the moment she turned her back," Draugrán said, even more worried now and thinking, what in udûn shall you do, Helluin?
Coincidentally, but hardly surprisingly, Helluin was wondering the exact same thing.
What in udûn shall I do now? In moments, the Haradrim shall arrive and they were allied with Khand not so long ago. I wager that they shall stand as allies now against Gondor and Samara. So what shall I do? What would a Nazgûl do?
Being long dead, a Nazgûl fears none amongst the living.
Being thrall to its master's will, a Nazgûl does his bidding unquestioned.
Being accursed, a Nazgûl weighs not good and evil.
And with that thought, a grin shaped the Noldo's lips, though none could see it for the deep hood eclipsing all sight of her face with shadow. Some of the Men of Khand still shied away from her whilst others looked to the south, and now they saw the leading wave of the Haradrim charging to confront the Gondorim. They gave a shout and raised their scimitars to encourage their old allies, and Helluin roared.
"Bûrzum nork-latûk!¹" ¹(Bûrzum nork-latûk! Darkness take you all! = bûrzum(darkness) + nork-(take) + latûk(you, coll pl) Orkish)
Into the lines of the Men of Khand the Noldo charged, her blades moving too fast and with too much assurance for any of the unprepared and already terrified warriors to withstand. 'Twixt her dagger and the Black Sword, she managed to slay a half-dozen ere they even began to react, and then they thought only to shy from her presence, jostling and compressing against their comrades. She spared the Agha's horse a swat on the rump with the flat of her sword to make it bolt, carrying its headless horseman to and fro in panic amidst the chaos. Some deemed their decapitated leader possessed by the Nazgûl, for despite the violence of his mount's bucking and rearing, his corpse maintained its seat and fell not from the saddle, (a spectacle that astonished the Noldo even more than it did her foes).
Helluin tirelessly maintained the whirlwind of her weapons, reinforcing the hysteria of the army from Khand. Veterans of many battles though they were, all discipline was lost. 'Twas not the swordplay of any mortal warrior that they faced. Now forced to avoid the threat of the Nazgûl in their midst by whate'er means they could, the arrival of the Haradrim was forgotten.
With few exceptions, the Knights of Gondor, the Rangers of Lebennin, and the warriors from Samara had watched Helluin's solo assault on an army of some two hundred fifty Men of Khand in astonishment.
"What screamed she ere charging their formation?" Prince Eärnur asked Lord Kanafinwë who sat his horse beside him. They had been the only words she had said in the Black Speech that were loud enough to have carried to their ears.
"She yelled, 'Darkness take you all', which, judging by their disorder, they obviously thought appropriate for an attacking Ringwraith," he answered with a chuckle.
"Is she mad?" Asked Áariel of Draugrán as they watched the Noldo carve her way amongst the Men of Khand.
"Always," he muttered, rolling his eyes at Helluin's display, "yet we now have more pressing concerns."
"Steady, steady," Sergeant Orodben whispered to Dúnriel as they bent their bows and watched the charging Haradrim. "Loose not 'til the knights begin their charge." A few heartbeats longer they waited, and then as Prince Eärnur stood in his stirrups, the sergeant called, "Loose!"
At almost the same moment, Lord Kanafinwë shouted, "Leitho!¹" ¹(Leitho! Release! Sindarin)
A vicious volley of arrows leapt from the bowstrings of the Rangers and the warriors from Samara. Shot in a flat trajectory, the cloud of a hundred and eighty shafts exploded towards the galloping Haradrim, now but thirty yards from the knights. As Prince Eärnur called the charge, the squires shot another eighteen arrows from atop the supply wagons.
As stricken Haradrim fell from their saddles, all the archers drew arrows from their quivers and prepared to shoot again, but ere they could release, the Knights of Gondor charged into the center of the enemy formation with lances leveled. Hooves thundered for only a score yards ere the resounding impacts of horse on horse briefly eclipsed the sounds of shouting warriors and the ringing of steel against steel. Deep into the Haradrim cavalry the knights drove, planting lances in their foes' bodies, or falling from the wounds of Southron swords and the crushing blows of horses. Fierce was the fighting, yet despite striking 'nigh five dozen of the Southrons from the battle with their arrows, still the Gondorim were disadvantaged by numbers.
With the knights engaged in the center, the mounted archers from Samara rode out to assail the flanks, sending arrows against their counterparts from Harad. Maglor led half his riders on the left flank whilst one of the Úmanyar led the attack from the right. The Haradrim archers returned fire and riders in both armies began to fall. Amongst the wagons, the squires and the Rangers prepared to defend against any foes that might break from the battle to attack, and some amongst them wondered how long Helluin could spare them from assault by the army from Khand.
Now after the volley of arrows and the charge of the knights, the attention of the Men of Khand was yet more split than aforetime. Those closest to the Nazgûl still tried to flee whilst those on the flanks and at the rear looked to their allies. Some too looked to the wagons, now only lightly defended. If there was treasure to be had, it lay there.
Several dozen riders without a captain peeled off from army of Khand's right flank and rode against the wagons, taking a path 'nigh the cliffs. 'Twas purely opportunistic and they immediately drew the fire of the Rangers and the squires. Half their number fell, but the rest carried on to attack Prince Eärnur's supply train. By the time they arrived, they had been diminished so that only two dozens were left to assail the defense.
"Shoot! Shoot!" Cried Sergeant Orodben, "For the more ye can kill with arrows, the fewer ye shall face with swords!"
The Rangers shot as many as possible whilst they approached, only shouldering their bows and drawing their swords as the surviving riders leapt from their saddles to attack the wagons on foot. Then, whilst the squires continued to pick off what foes they could, the Rangers engaged the Men of Khand, and outnumbering them now, slew well 'nigh all ere the last fled back to their ranks.
"Casualties," the sergeant called out, and a few Rangers answered.
It seemed that they had sustained some cuts and gashes and three had fallen with mortal wounds. The survivors hastened to bind the wounds and drag their fallen comrades to shelter 'neath the supply wagons. Their weapons were brought back as well, for swords, daggers, spare bows, and extra arrows were expected to prove of great value as the fighting continued.
"That could have been far worse," Sergeant Orodben muttered.
"'Twas still bad," Dúnriel said as she finished helping to shelter the dead, "and 'tis likely to get no better."
"Nay, 'tis not, at least 'til the battle is ended," the sergeant agreed, his face grim.
With each successive attack, their chances would diminish as their own numbers fell.
On their left flank, the Men of Khand could clearly see the mounted archers from Samara riding and shooting into the right flank of the Haradrim army. The warriors from Rhûn had the singular advantage of aiming at foes who were constrained in a formation, whilst they themselves rode freely as their lord led them in no set pattern. In but a short time, this advantage had yielded greater Southron casualties than those inflicted against Maglor's archers.
Whilst Helluin continued her butchery at the center front of the army from Khand, a lesser chieftain on their left flank rallied almost four score riders to him and led them in a sortie against the archers from Samara. 'Twas not 'til she heard their war cries that the Noldo marked their attack, and in but an instant, she read the danger. They outnumbered Maglor and his warriors, and her allies could be trapped 'twixt them and the right flank of the Haradrim. The outcome was not hard to foresee. Engaged as she was in holding the bulk of the forces from Khand at bay, she could not go to their aid, and the Rangers were too few and too disadvantaged by being afoot to offer meaningful relief. She could only hope that Maglor and his fifty-odd surviving warriors might escape by the swiftness of their horses.
Now being as they rode free and were not always facing the Haradrim, Maglor and his archers quickly saw the charging cavalry coming against them, and they heard the Southrons give a great shout of welcome and thanks to their allies from Khand. Then they perceived their jeopardy and could only try to withdraw back towards the cliffs where they could not be flanked, and seek some cover 'neath the Rangers' arrows. They wheeled their mounts and disengaged from the Haradrim, and whilst the Southrons shot at their backs, they galloped towards the wagons. Some few fell during that retreat, but the majority managed to reach the space before the supply train unscathed.
The riders from Khand met their allies and greatly did the Haradrim rejoice at their coming, yet that meeting was brief. The Haradrim returned their attention to the Knights of Gondor who fought in their midst, whilst the Khandish cavalry turned to assail the wagons, seventy-odd against the surviving forty-eight Rangers and squires, and the fifty-odd mounted archers from Samara.
The rest of Maglor's remaining archers still engaged the Southron army, supporting the Knights of Gondor by assailing their foes' left flank. For that time, they remained in place, loath to leave their allies alone and their enemies uncontested by any secondary threats. They essayed to whittle down the Haradrim in hopes of eventually providing enough weakness in their left flank to allow the knights to withdraw.
After a quick glance, Helluin reckoned that the surviving knights numbered some seventy-five, rallying 'round Prince Eärnur. Of the Haradrim, easily twice their count remained. The sortie from Khand was slightly outnumbered by the allies at the wagons, and she felt their jeopardy reduced. 'Twas now the knights who stood in the greatest immediate danger.
Then with a groan, Helluin marked another three score riders quitting the army of Khand's right flank. They charged towards the wagons to reinforce the sortie and cause a division in the defenders' forces. Now, her Rangers and Maglor's mounted archers were again outnumbered, and they were facing assaults from two directions. She still opposed the remaining five dozen in the original formation from Khand and though she doubted not that with sufficient time she could kill them all, her time was swiftly running out.
The situation was grave, but suddenly it became worse. Seeing the greater part of their allies moving to assail the wagons whilst the remainder continued to occupy the Nazgûl, the captain of Harad ordered his warriors to break off their combat with the knights. The Southrons pulled away from Prince Eärnur and his Men and charged towards the wagons to reinforce their allies. Despite his efforts to maintain the engagement, there was 'naught that the prince and his knights could do. 'Round them, the Haradrim galloped the short distance to the supply train, leaving them behind. Only the archers from Samara shadowed their charge, continuing to fire arrows into their left flank, but they could not slay enough to stem the attack. The best they could do was to reattach themselves to Maglor's right flank. Finally, the knights were left to ride after their foes, but now the Gondorim were separated from their squires and allies by their enemies from both Harad and Khand.
Then the defense truly became desperate. Lord Kanafinwë had perhaps five score and ten of his warriors left, plus thirty Rangers and a dozen and a half squires. They were forced to defend against roughly a hundred and ten enemies from Khand and another hundred and forty from Harad. 'Twas two hundred fifty against a hundred and fifty-five 'round the wagons, and the enemy pressed its advantage. To the Men and Elves from Gondor and Samara, they may as well have been a host, and the defenders began to fall.
The knights valiantly assailed the Haradrim's rear, but they could not break their press. Then Helluin saw the remaining warriors from Khand slipping away to join the assault. Soon, she faced not five dozens, but three, then two, and she deemed her disguise no longer of value. The Noldo turned her horse and rode for the battle, joining the knights at the rear of the enemy formation rather than trying to break into the battle line where her presence would only constrain the defending archers from targets. Yet all too soon, the Rangers and the mounted archers were forced to shoulder their bows and draw their swords. The combat had grown too close for shooting. Mounted, the warriors from Samara had practical parity with their attackers, but afoot, the Rangers were badly disadvantaged.
For a while, they had been able to continue shooting, but then the press closed before them and targets were few with the warriors of Samara engaged in combat directly in front of them. With all in constant motion, opportunities to shoot through their allies proved impractical and sergeants Húbion and Orodben ordered their Rangers to draw swords. Even so, they could not effectively advance into the mounted fray.
Atop the supply wagons, the squires faced the same problem, though their elevated positions allowed them more options. Unfortunately, their positions also made them more easily acquired targets and they drew arrow fire from Harad and Khand.
The battle continued and 'twas a war of attrition. Squires were shot from the supply wagons, mounted warriors from Samara fell along the front, and knights were slain by the rear guard. They took a grievous toll on their foes, but so too did their foes take on them. All but forgotten in the wagons, the slaves of Nurn watched the battle with increasing fear. Their saviors and allies were being slain at a steady rate and they were calculating enough to reckon the odds. Ere the battle was done, only Haradrim and enemies from Khand would remain. One by one, they slipped from their seats and gathered in the deep shadows behind the wagons, looking to the entrance of the pass for the only escape they could see.
The half part of an hour passed and the engagement diminished not the least in ferocity. Prince Eärnur's company was reduced to fifty-five knights, yet the Men of Gondor fought on, avenging their fallen with twice their count in enemy casualties, for they were still vigorous in their swordplay and their armor was effective against all but the most deadly attacks.
At the battlefront, Maglor's troops had lost sixty of one hundred forty-four. In the wagons, a dozen squires still lived, and amongst the Rangers, two dozen of thirty-six drew breath. Amongst their fallen, Sergeant Orodben was most notable, slain by wounds acquired when a small company from Khand had sought to infiltrate amongst the supply train from the east.
Nine soldiers of Khand had dismounted and snuck forward, hoping to take the Ranger defense of the easternmost supply wagons by surprise and gain a foothold behind the battle lines. They had been met by Sergeant Orodben, Dúnriel, and two other Rangers, stocky Bronwe and quiet Nauthui¹. The sergeant had marked them first and stepped from the shadows to run his sword into the belly of the leading foe, and then the close-quarters fighting broke out. ¹(Bronwe, Endurance; Nauthui, Thoughtful Sindarin)
"Ware! Ware!" Sergeant Orodben shouted, alerting those close to him as the first foe's body fell from his sword and the rest charged forward, abandoning their stealth.
Still outnumbered two to one and with their backs against the wagons, the Rangers fought with desperate prowess. Bronwe managed to slash an enemy 'cross the neck as he joined the fray and the attackers were still focused on his sergeant. Dúnriel fought a short duel, was slammed back against the wheel of a wagon, and barely managed to dodge aside as the enemy lunged forward to run her through. Instead, his sword stuck in a sideboard of the wagon, and ere he could wrench it free, she jabbed her dagger into the side of his chest, just 'neath his sword arm.
Beside her, Sergeant Orodben and Nauthui were holding off three of the enemy, and the Dúnadaneth joined them to even the odds. She saw that Nauthui had slain another of the attackers ere coming to the sergeant's aid, leaving them o'ermatched by five to four. That left Bronwe fending off two Men of Khand, and though he took wounds, 'twas still precious moments that he bought them ere he fell, hewn head from shoulders by a scimitar. Dúnriel marked all this in a quick glance 'twixt parries, and then she heard the grunt beside her as the sergeant took a slash 'cross his left arm. The dagger dropped from his hand and she moved closer to guard his wounded side.
Opposite her, Nauthui lunged forward 'neath his foe's guard and slashed deep into his thigh causing him to fall backward. The attacker that stood beside him looked to see his condition, and in that moment of distraction, Sergeant Orodben whipped his sword downward and cleaved his left hand from his wrist. Nauthui slashed his side as he clutched the wound by reflex. Then the two warriors from Khand who had taken Bronwe's head were upon them and the odds were three against three.
Suddenly, one of their attackers lunged forward in a fey attack that left him with his skull split to his jaw, but he had managed to plant his dagger in the sergeant's belly. The sergeant sagged to his knees and Nauthui kicked his attacker's corpse away. Dúnriel stabbed her sword high into the chest of another as he dodged the cadaver.
Dúnriel and Nauthui were left facing two foes, but the odds were even. Each met a single foe in a duel, but it seemed that luck had left them. Nauthui took a deep slice 'cross the front of both thighs and fell, but as his opponent leant o'er to finish him, he jabbed desperately upward with his sword and impaled his enemy's belly.
The Man of Khand that Dúnriel faced was a her equal in height, but far stronger, and he forced her backward with a flurry of heavy blows. Her sword and dagger rang in her hands from the impacts of blocking his strikes and numbness set in along with the fatigue of maintaining the combat. He aimed a kick at her right knee, felling her though she managed to gouge his leg just above his knee. A single step back he limped, then turned his sword and grasped it in both hands to drive it downward to her finish her. His stroke cut only her forearm as she rolled away on her back. Then she was wedged against the wheel of a wagon and he grinned as he prepared to jab downward again. Dúnriel eyes were wide as she unexpectedly faced her fate, having nowhere to go and no more chances to evade. For a moment, she wished herself back in Celenhár, and then her would-be slayer's eyes rolled up in his head and his knees gave way.
He fell 'cross her legs and she looked up, expecting to see a squire's arrow still quivering in his back, but rather, his head was stove in from behind, and standing there clutching a bloody rock in both hands was one of the 'Snaga'.
The Orch grinned at her, then dropped the rock and picked up her fallen foe's scimitar. Behind him, other slaves were recovering the weapons of both dead enemies and Rangers. The slaves of Nurn were arming themselves. And then they charged forward past her and into the fray, slipping amongst the horses from Samara. Behind them came more and more of their comrades and now, 'twas a battle of five armies.
Swiftly and with astonishing viciousness, the starved Yrch attacked Men of Khand and Harad. They had no battle order, nor tactics, only the raw violence of forsaken souls at the last of their hope. Those who had rescued them from their lives of servitude were dying for them, and in the end, they would not stand by deedless and watch their hopes die with them. The Rangers and the 'Latânu-hai' would receive their aid. They were two hundred forty-four, and though they were no warriors, they fought without reservation, for they were in their own words, already dead. They had 'naught to lose.
Heedless of their weapons, the 'Snaga' hauled enemies from their saddles and mobbed them, stabbed horses as soon as their riders, and put all to terror by biting off mouthfuls of flesh from the screaming wounded. With swords, daggers, fallen arrows, rocks, and even bare hands, they killed 'aught that moved amongst the enemy. The warriors of Samara and Gondor saw and took heart, for the tide of the battle was turning in their favor at last. Then with renewed fury, they drove against their foes, finally forcing the last, a mixed three score demoralized warriors, to flee in a panicked rout.
The survivors of the armies from Khand and Harad rode for their lives, and they paused not in their terrified gallop 'til they had cleared four furlongs. Then they stopped, panting and retching as the horror of the battle washed o'er them. Their horses were exhausted and their riders were broken in spirit. For a while, they could go no further. Yet finally, they took their leave, struggling with their failure and shame, their terror, and the horrific tidings that Gondor, Samara, and Mordor stood against them. T'would be long ere they recovered enough to again threaten the wagon trains of Samara and their freed slaves as they made their slow way to and from Rhûn.
Now in the aftermath of the battle, the allies tended their wounded and counted their losses. Of the Knights of Gondor, but fifty-three would return to Minas Tirith with Prince Eärnur at their head, and of them, eleven bore wounds. Trailing behind their nine supply wagons were forty-seven chargers whose riders had fallen, and another fifty-two southern and eastern mounts taken as spoils of war. Of the two dozen squires, fifteen had survived.
The Rangers of Lebennin had lost seventeen of forty-eight, when counting Sergeant Renidir's company that awaited them in the cirque. Fourteen had died in battle, and another three succumbed later to wounds, including Sergeant Orodben. By their skill at arms and good fortune, Dúnriel, Draugrán, Áariel, Nauthui, and the sergeants Húbion and Renidir survived. With their return, they brought forty-six horses taken earlier from the Haradrim.
Helluin and Maglor parted in grim mood, but with friendship and honor. Lord Kanafinwë had lost five of his twelve dozen warriors including both Men and Elves. Of the 'Snaga', a surprising two hundred and five had survived to seek their freedom in Samara. They had lost thirty-nine, the lowest proportion of casualties to survivors amongst all of the allies, and this despite their lack of training and berserk style of fighting.
"We have survived again, old friend, and thankfully, not alone," Helluin said as she and Maglor clasped forearms in parting.
"Aye, and 'twas good to meet thee again despite 'aught else that came to pass," Kanafinwë said. "Thanks too to thine allies for their aid in rescuing the slaves of Nurn. I am sorry that so many have been lost."
"As are we at thy losses," she said. "Pray give my greetings to Pallando and Alatar, and my friends amongst the Mâh-Sakâ, should thou meet them again."
"I shall be sure to do so, my old friend. Pray remain safe on thy road home."
The dawn of 6 Nínui was soon to break and the warriors from Samara were just finishing rigging tarps to shelter the wagon beds from the sun. On this day, they would begin their road home in daylight, loath to linger 'nigh the battlefield. The allies had only tarried long enough to help inter the dead of Samara. Their own fallen, Men of Gondor and Lebennin, they had loaded into the supply wagons, intending to bury them in the cirque, a more pleasant setting removed from the place of their fall.
Finally, as Anor colored the eastern sky and the light grew, the allies parted company and rode their separate paths. Only afterward, on their road back to the cirque, did Helluin realize that she had failed to ask Maglor about the disposition of E-ngúrglaw. She shook her head at her lapse and then dismissed it from her mind.
Now whereas aforetime it had taken the three dozen mounted Rangers from 2 to 14 Girithron for their return from the Nargil Pass to Minas Tirith, with the wagons to slow their passage and a number of wounded, the return of the Rangers and knights took twenty days. By then, Helluin and no few of the Rangers had been ready to sabotage the wagons simply to hasten their ride. Still, upon 26 Nínui, the survivors of 'The Battle of the Five Armies', (as they had taken to calling it), rode at last through the gates of Minas Tirith and were only too happy to be home at last.
At the army's garrison in the Second Circle, the knights and Rangers peeled off to their respective barracks. Even from beyond the buildings, Helluin could hear the raucous celebratory barking of Húveren as he greeted his friends. Beside her, Prince Eärnur gave a sigh and she turned to him in question.
"I should be glad to cease my upward ride and join the queue for a bath," he admitted to her as he cast his eyes to the military bathhouse along the encircling wall. His eyes gazed into his past, back to the years when he had been a new recruit and then a common soldier of Gondor.
His sentiment brought a smile to the Noldo as she contemplated the long climb up through the circles of the city. Yet they were expected to report to the king and the steward straightaway.
"Positions of trust and command come with privation, risk, and suffering, oft as not," she said sympathetically, and they shared a grin as they walked their horses onward.
"I reckon thy report shall be better received than mine," he mused. "Another Nazgûl slain, the exercise of our alliance with Samara, and hundreds of slaves freed to Sauron's detriment, for starters."
Helluin nodded to him, but her face was grim.
"Too, I must take responsibility for proposing this mission in which so many have fallen. My tidings shall not all be good."
To that, the prince nodded, understanding her sentiments and reservations. Still, he had lost forty-seven out of a hundred knights, and nine of his squires. He shook his head. There was no way that his tidings would be well regarded.
Somber were the prince and the Noldo as they mounted to the Seventh Circle and came before King Eärnil and Steward Vorondil. Though 'twas not yet the fourth hour past dawn, they were wholly occupied providing their accounts and not 'til 'nigh sunset were they dismissed. By then, Eärnur was longing for a meal and Helluin for a bath.
As expected, the reception of their tale was mixed. Congratulations alternated with looks of disapproval and dismay from the king and the steward. In all, Helluin found the whole episode tense to the point that she was sorely tempted to burst out laughing more than once. For his part, Prince Eärnur vacillated 'twixt expressions of subdued relief and post-campaign deflation. He bid her a fair night with little enthusiasm and left in search of food. Helluin followed the same stubby chamberlain to the same suite of rooms where the handmaiden Gwilwileth waited. She wrinkled her nose upon Helluin's entrance and immediately called for the young porters to fetch bath water. Helluin gave her a thankful look.
"Welcome, my lady," the Butterfly said, offering the tired Noldo a smile.
"My thanks for thy welcome, Gwilwileth, and yet more for the bath," Helluin admitted. "I swear that had I not shared the prince's company whilst the king and steward awaited our appearance, I should have dunked myself in the horse trough at the stables in the Sixth Circle."
She shook her head and the Butterfly giggled.
"Shall I set to thine armor whilst thou soak, m'lady?"
"T'would be appreciated, but I deem 'tis no rush. I believe their lordships have seen enough of me for this day…perhaps for the week."
Gwilwileth set about laying out the soaps, lotions, and towels whilst Helluin collapsed into a chair and doffed her boots. The porters bore in the last of the hot water and finally, Helluin stripped off her armor, stepped 'round the privacy screen and removed her undergarments, and entered the bath. There she gave a contented sigh and sank into the water 'til her head was at the bottom of the tub. She remained there unmoving 'til the Butterfly dashed 'round the screen in a panic, sure that she had drowned.
To Be Continued