In An Age Before – Part 247
Now following the presentation of King Eärnil's embassy, Steward Vorondil and Helluin took their leave of the Ithryn Luin for that night. They let the chamberlain know that they could find their own way back to their rooms and set off with Helluin providing direction. The two passed many of the odd details of the keep's architecture, but declined to comment on them, for they had more pressing matters on their minds.
Eventually, they found the corridor whereat the entrances to their guest apartments were located, but ere they separated to go to their rooms, the steward beseeched Helluin to join him for a short spell.
"Helluin, I find I have so many questions that I fear my skull shall burst asunder," he said, shaking his head with accumulated astonishment. "Might I impose upon thee for a short span of thy time? Thou know this place and these people far better than I am likely to ere my return to Minas Tirith."
Helluin gave the steward a nod, and recalling the layout of the guest wing, led him to a small and informal withdrawing chamber 'round a couple of corners, but still 'nigh their accommodations. They entered and she closed the door. Outside, the hallway had been silent, deserted.
The room contained only a mismatched sofa and pair of armchairs set on a thick, ugly rug of shaggy cranberry wool before a cold hearth, a sideboard, and a picture window with a view of some masonry. The Noldo drew heavy curtains of puce velvet 'cross the panes and then rummaged in the cabinet, finally drawing forth a pair of squat, cut crystal tumblers and a matching decanter half-filled with a deep, red fluid. A sniff revealed it to be black currant liqueur. She poured them each a glass.
By then the steward had taken a seat towards one end of the sofa and Helluin seated herself at the other, passing him a glass and then chancing a sip. She found it good and the flavor strong, as if concentrated to be used as a component in a complex cocktail. After what had become quite a long day, she stretched her legs out straight and tilted her head o'er the back of the sofa, glancing towards the ceiling. There amidst the sculpted moldings, the Noldo marked a skylight that provided a view of the flooring joists supporting the room above.
Beside her, she heard the steward sip and sigh, then settle back into the seat cushions as if exhausted. She realized that he was not young even for a Dúnadan, and the trip must be wearing on him. When his breathing deepened, she finished her glass in one gulp and turned to speak, lest Vorondil doze off.
"My lord, thou hast questions?" she asked.
The steward stifled a yawn and sat up straighter, then he glanced o'er to her and said, "Aye, and indeed I feel that I have 'naught but questions. These Wizards and their citadel are peculiar, but I feel I have not sufficiently digested my impressions of them to question thee about them as yet. Rather I would know some things more mundane."
Helluin gave him a nod, bidding him ask after what topics he had digested.
"The first matter regards thyself, Helluin. I have still not fathomed how thou so easily survived being struck by those Rhoxolāni arrows without so much as a nick in thine armor to evince the tale."
"Ahhh, Lord Steward, that is easily made plain," Helluin said, hoping that his further questions would be no more challenging. "Upon a time I told thee that, 'my armor was a gift out of Khazad-dûm o'er fifty-three centuries ago, and now its like cannot be made again'.
In S.A.131, I delivered two prospectors from bandits, and in thanks, they invited me to their mansions as a guest. I abode there a score years, learning their speech and teaching the craft of Aulë's folk as I had learnt it in the Blessed Realm. In those days, I also assisted in their prospecting, and 'neath Barazinbar in S.A.142 I discovered a vein of mithril ore. Being a wanderer, I laid no claim, but asked their masters to make armor of it for me, and this was done by Gneiss son of Gnoss. My armor is of mithril, blackened with galvorn. Through the battles of two Ages it hath shown no wear, and it hath turned e'ery dart, blade, and point sent against it."
"And now the forges of Khazad-dûm are dark and cold, and its people slain or scattered. There are none to duplicate it," Vorondil mused. "I thank thee for thine explanation, Úlairdacil."
Helluin dipped her head to the steward and offered the decanter. He held out his tumbler for a refill. She poured them each another couple fingers of the liqueur and then settled back to await his next question.
Now after taking several sips of his drink, Vorondil passed to the topic of the citadel's defenses, for Helluin had bid him mark well what he saw at the gate.
"Helluin, I would know what thou sought to impart concerning the gatehouse of the Wizards' citadel," he said. "The portcullis could cause great difficulties to those seeking to force their entrance with a ram, and with both the portcullis and gate duplicated, multiply that hardship. The tunnel too is possessed of lethal possibilities with its firing slots and murder holes in the ceiling. I wager it could also become a deadly trap, constraining enemies for their slaughter."
"I am glad thou understand much of the defensive potential of what thou hast seen, my lord, and thine observations are all true so far as they go. The Ithryn Luin have made the breaking of their gates a hardship," Helluin said, "and those first to enter would no doubt be slain, trapped in the tunnel 'twixt the outer and inner gates. That tunnel restricts not only the direction of passage, but the numbers able to attempt it as well, and yet more is invested there to defeat any coming in force. There is that which is unseen.
I indicated the blocks of steel inset at both ends of the wooden floor of the tunnel. These fittings mount a pair of pivots. Should the gate tunnel fill with foes, it can be tilted to the side, dumping 'aught upon it into a deep pit and making passage impossible."
"So it functions much like a drawbridge," the steward remarked with a grin, "and it could not only doom such as walk upon it, but deprive attackers of their ram as well. 'Tis a shrewd artifice indeed."
"And there is more, Lord Steward," Helluin said, "a jeopardy endemic to these lands that plays no small part in the defenses of this citadel. Aforetime, I made no mention of the were-worms."
Vorondil cast curious eyes to the Noldo.
"I have ne'er heard of were-worms, Úlairdacil. What manner of beast are these, pray tell?"
"They are ground worms of Rhûn, given to the attainment of great size."
At this assertion, the steward's eyes widened, but he held his peace and hearkened to Helluin's words.
"In truth, I know little of their nature save that they burrow and gnaw the underpinnings of much of the east," she continued. "They are held to be a terror by the native peoples. The Mâh-Sakâ, Medes, and Rhoxolāni know and flee the very rumor of them. That rumor begins as a quaking in the ground, presaging their eruption from the soil and their voracious consumption of 'aught that may lie above. In 1976, I saw one destroy and consume much of a walled town of mud-brick. 'Twas drawn to the vibrations of hoof beats in the ground and the noise of attackers riding before the walls. I later saw a much smaller worm explode from ground that encompassed a seep spring, as though it sought for moisture."
Now the steward regarded her askance, for her rede was unprecedented. The existence of such monstrous creatures seemed a nightmare, incredible, and wholly unknown in the west. 'Twas hard for him to believe that any burrowing creature could attain such a size as to threaten an entire settlement.
"Helluin," he said, "I find this notion most upsetting. Say thou then that all the east is bored through by these were-worms? That upon a time unlooked for, one's footing might give way and an unfortunate find themselves falling into such a worm hole?"
"Precisely so, my lord, though I have heard that in drier regions the chance of encountering were-worms is the less. Here, for example, 'tis said that it hath been centuries since any sign of live worms has been marked, yet the evidence of their past tenancy is still to be seen."
"Oh? Where so?"
"I am sure thou recall from earlier this afternoon, thy transit of the wooden bridge o'er the hole in the floor of the circular hall?" Helluin asked.
The steward nodded 'aye', but then his eyes grew wide with the realization that he had unknowingly encountered such a piece of evidence himself. The scale of the creature that had created it was astonishing.
"Oh my," he said, and then fell silent.
"'Neath the Iant Ithryn and the floors of the gatehouse tunnels lie such worm holes, my lord, for the citadel was situated to take best advantage of their presence.
"And thou hast truly seen such creatures, not just their spoor?" Vorondil asked, just to be sure.
The Noldo nodded her head 'aye'.
"And they are not just some wingless cold drakes of the old north, spawn of Morgoth?"
Helluin shook her head 'nay'.
"I saw sundry dragons when Gondolin fell and would recognize such a serpent at once. Were-worms have neither legs, nor heads. They bear no scales, no evil eyes, no toothsome mouths, and they speak not. Those I witnessed exhibited no guile, only violence abetted by their vast size. They demonstrated no discrimination in their targets, being summoned by moisture or simple vibrations rather than treasure or known foes, and they acted in league with none."
The steward gulped the rest of his liqueur and immediately held out his tumbler for a refill. Helluin emptied the decanter into his glass, dregs and all. Vorondil sipped of his drink and then sat silent a while in thought.
"Why, I wonder, does no lore of Gondor tell of them," he finally mused, "for we fought wars so far east as the Sea of Rhûn in the days of Rómendacil Tarostar, Turambar, and Rómendacil Minalcar, yet our tales say 'naught of were-worms."
"I know not, my lord, and I cannot hazard a guess," Helluin replied. "Riding east ere finding the Mâh-Sakâ, I saw no sign of them 'twixt Carnen and Celduin, and no word of them have I e'er heard from the Northmen. I deem Gondor's armies fortunate to have been spared."
To this, Steward Vorondil could only nod in agreement. He sipped again of his liqueur, then leant back and closed his eyes for a moment. At last, a yawn escaped him.
"There is much else I would ask of thee, Úlairdacil, but not this night," he said. "I am beset by weariness. Perhaps 'tis as Lord Alatar said and I too am getting old."
Helluin dipped her head to the steward and reached out to take his glass. The emptied tumblers and decanter she set on the sideboard, and then she cast a glance to Vorondil. He blinked and rose to his feet, ere following the Noldo to the door. She led him out of the chamber and down the hallway, back to his apartment door, and there bid him goodnight.
Thereafter, the Noldo returned to her own rooms where she spent the night in irritation, silently bemoaning the destruction of E-ngúrglaw and the meddling of Curumo. No better than that busybody Eagle is he, she thought, to wrest from me another chance to rid Middle Earth of Sauron. What, I wonder, is it that he fears.
Though the night seemed interminable to her and passed with the celerity of a slime mold, the dawn finally arrived, 2 Lothron.
When Helluin came from her rooms, she was surprised to find Draugrán and Pallando awaiting her in the hallway. It seemed that despite it being then not even a half-hour past dawn, matters of import were already being attended.
"Helluin, I am to inform thee that my company of Rangers has taken up the guardianship of the steward for his continued embassy with Ithron Alatar this day," Draugrán said, effectively freeing her of that duty. "At sundown, Dúnriel's company shall take up the watch 'til the morrow's morn."
Helluin offered the Dúnadan a dip of her head and said, "My thanks, captain. Carry on."
Draugrán bowed and took his leave, hastening off down the corridor. Helluin next looked to Pallando, curious as to why he had sought her out rather than summoning her to him.
"I encourage thee to follow me in silent haste that none mark our going or discern our destination," he explained, as if reading her thought.
The Noldo acknowledged his words with a nod and the Ithron turned on his heels and strode immediately towards the door that led to a dead drop into the bailey. Helluin followed, curious.
Now when he arrived at that door, Pallando took his pipe in hand and waved it o'er the blank wall next to the doorframe, and then grasped a knob that the Noldo could not see. It seemed as if he indulged in some curious pantomime, and yet after he turned his wrist to twist the invisible fitting, a push opened a doorway leading onto the landing of long stairwell lit by wall-mounted candelabra. The steps were vertiginously steep and descended in an unbroken run, down into dimness. Helluin did a double take and blinked as her mouth dropped open. By all rights, the wall adjacent to the door should have revealed the same drop of three stories into the ward.
To snap her from her shocked paralysis, Pallando hissed, "Come on, Helluin, now!"
Reacting to the urgency in his voice, Helluin followed the Wizard through the doorway and onto the staircase, and then Ithron shut the door behind them. He seemed to relax somewhat, once they were out of the hallway and away from any that might espy them.
"Pray watch thy step," he warned as he set off down the stairs, for there were neither landings, nor handrails to make safer that flight of steps.
Helluin nodded to him, thinking that with her Elvish senses she was highly unlikely to misstep. True, a stumble might lead to a fall and a catastrophic tumble down what she guessed to be at least four stories, but she had been untroubled by the rope walks in the old Lindórinand of King Lenwin and Lady Calenwen, and so a set of stairs were little challenge regardless of their length.
Their descent took the sixth part of an hour at a steady pace. Ahead of her, Pallando ne'er slowed and the candelabra passed one after another, casting wavering pools of light and animating their own dancing shadows. Of air movement, she felt nothing, and though neither musty, nor stale, the stillness was broken only by their passing, leaving the candle flames minimally perturbed. Helluin marked that the walls to either side were of the same blocks of ubiquitous pale sandstone from which the citadel was built. The steps too were of that same native material. Of windows or other entrances, there were none.
Boredom had begun to set in and Helluin's mind was tempted to wander when they finally reached the foot of the stairs. There a narrow passage with a simple, arched roof continued in a straight line in what Helluin guessed to be a southerly direction based on having entered the stairwell at a right angle to the hallway in the guest wing. Pallando paced ahead without remark and Helluin followed silently in his wake. They traversed what felt like o'er a hundred yards ere coming to a heavy wooden door braced with many rivets affixing reinforcing bands of steel. The Noldo saw neither keyhole, nor door pull piercing the planks.
The Ithron again drew his pipe from a concealed pocket in his robes and tapped the door twice with the bowl whilst mumbling some incantation that Helluin could not catch. Unlike his revealing of the door in the corridor outside the guest apartments, this time he mimed no turning of a knob, but rather simply gave the door a push and it swung open easily on well-balanced hinges. On the far side, they were confronted with the base of another staircase, this one a spiral that curved upward in a clockwise direction.
Pallando started ascending immediately and again, Helluin had little choice but to follow. They had come but a half dozen steps ere the door slammed shut behind them. Now they were in darkness, but the Wizard puffed on his pipe and a surprisingly bright light emanated from the bowl, providing a minimal illumination to light their way. The Noldo shook her head at her old friend's conjuring and produced a ril of silver and gold Light that was far more revealing.
"I thank thee for the added light, meldis nín," Pallando said. "We are almost there."
Almost where? The Noldo wondered as she followed the Wizard up the steps of what must have been one of the towers along the inner curtain wall. And what shall we find when we arrive?
The Ithron made no reply to her thought, but continued up the staircase at the same steady pace, with commendable vigor for a Man of his years, Helluin thought, and now she was rewarded with a soft chuckle from the Wizard and his silently voice saying, patience, my young friend, in her head. She rolled her eyes by reflex.
At several points during their climb, she marked entrances to the stairwell that had been carefully filled in with blocks of sandstone that matched the walls of the tower. She realized that these had been entrances from the battlements and perhaps other adjacent chambers, and that the tower was now wholly isolated save for the enchanted staircase. Whate'er secret Pallando kept, he had spared little expense to maintain its obscurity.
Now after a large count of revolutions 'round the spiral stairs, (which Helluin had not bothered to count), they came to yet another door. 'Twas like that at the bottom of the staircase in that it bore neither a keyhole, nor a knob, and as aforetime, Pallando rapped upon it twice with the bowl of his pipe. Again, the door opened at his push and revealed the expected circular chamber, with a high ceiling lit by narrow windows facing to the compass points. From the eastern window came the yellowish morning light and a glimpse of blue sky.
"And here we are at last, meldis nín. I present my secret laboratory of esoteric inquiry," Pallando declared proudly whilst making a sweeping gesture to the space.
Helluin looked 'round and saw 'naught but the walls and window embrasures, and the planks of the ceiling and floor. Pallando's 'laboratory' was devoid of any furnishings.
"Uh-huh, and t'will remain secret t'would seem," she huffed, giving the Ithron a questioning glance.
"The Wizard looked 'round as if seeing the room for the first time, then chuckled and absentmindedly said, "I keep forgetting…"
"Mâchan¹!" he uttered whilst spreading both hands in an 'all-encompassing' gesture. ¹(Mâchan, Authority/Authoritative Decision Valarin)
Immediately, long worktables, benches, bookcases, and supply cabinets appeared as a sizzle of sparks swept in a wave from ceiling to floor. Upon the walls were hung charts and sketches of plans drawn in ink or charcoal. Painted panels hosted scrawls in chalk of a more temporary nature. The worktables were laden with instruments for the bending, concentration, refraction, and reflection of light, all comprised from an extensive collection of mirrors, prisms, lenses, diffraction gratings, and mounted oculi partially occluded by iris diaphragms.
Helluin's eyes wandered o'er the space, taking it all in. On diminutive pedestals of turned wood sat flawlessly polished mineral balls of ruddy, wood-grain agate, tawny amber, gold-striated rutilated quartz, Tiger's Eye, and fiery yooperlite. A collection of Elven lamps hung from the ceiling by chains run through blocks and tackles, and a massive brass oil lamp stood on a tripod of wrought iron, topped by a complex light head composed of a parabolic mirror behind and a plano-convex lens before the wick to concentrate its light.
All these artifacts elicited only restrained interest from Helluin, but then her gaze found the single item she was familiar with and her eyes widened in shock. Isolated in a glass-sided display case was the original, small-scale model of E-ngúrglaw that the Ithryn had fabricated in 1986. After having been told the previous night that Curumo had demanded the destruction of the full-sized weapon, she had assumed that the model had been dismantled as well. Now the Noldo understood the cause for Pallando's secrecy and his sequestering of it and his research in a hidden laboratory. She wondered what would come next. Would the Ithron Luin defy the head of his order and reconstruct E-ngúrglaw?
"I shall not defy the head of my order and reconstruct E-ngúrglaw," Pallando said, chuckling again as Helluin's mouth dropped open. "I simply retain this model as a historical artifact."
"But why bother?" Helluin asked. "Such artifacts are now forbidden, and indeed t'would seem the history itself is forbidden from recall."
"So 'tis," he replied, "and yet I find I am afflicted by the defect of pointless possessiveness. I am a hoarder. Perhaps one day I shall show thee my collections of old scrolls in dead languages, past robes and hats now worn pauperous, the cloak I bore on my arrival at the Havens, the sacks of hair shorn from my locks o'er the past centuries, and even…hundreds of rat skins."
Again, Helluin found herself staring at the Wizard in shock and he trailed off at the expression on her face. She had hoped to hear some discourse on the importance of truthful history being preserved as a lesson to future generations, but alas, no such exposition was forthcoming.
"Ne'ermind," the Wizard muttered, "the appreciation of such evidence for its own sake is a rare and acquired taste. In any case, 'tis all anyone else coming here would see."
The Noldo dismissed his comment and asked, "Has the continued existence of this model 'aught to do with thy claim yesternight that thou know somewhat of Curumo's fears?"
"Indeed so, and this shall be demonstrated to thee. Let us proceed."
Pallando opened the display case and removed the model. This he handed to Helluin as she stripped away her left gauntlet, baring the skin of her hand and forearm up to her elbow. The 'conceptual miniature' that had provided proof of concept was configured to encase her lower arm in an array of mirrors with the glass rod mounted above and parallel with her arm bones. The beam of Light was projected from the end of the rod above the back of her hand, so she had to do 'naught but point at the target to direct its output. Helluin donned the test weapon as Pallando prepared some additional apparatus and arranged a target.
Now when she was composed, the Wizard pointed to an X painted on the floor and directed her to 'stand on her mark'. This the Noldo did, and Pallando brought forth his apparatus on a rolling cart, positioning it critically so that a prism of glass mounted on a thin stem of metal sat directly before the beam's output point. The stem descended through the tabletop to connect with a wire cage in which a trio of rats waited. Behind them sat a blowtorch. 'Round the prism was a square frame of brass with a dozen small mirrors mounted on each of its sides. All of these pointed forward, away from Helluin, at an angle of forty-five degrees. On the worktable ahead, and in a direct line from her X, lay a board upon which two dozen sausages had been arranged in ranks and files, each set upright with its end impaled on a short spike.
"Art thou ready, Helluin?" Pallando asked. She nodded 'aye' to him and he added, "When I give thee a signal, pray provide thy Light and power the weapon."
Having stifled her astonishment at the Wizard's preparations, the Noldo nodded and said, "I am prepared, meldir nín."
The Wizard then ignited the blowtorch, motivating the rats to panic and propel their treadmill at a furious pace. The stem turned with the treadmill and the prism spun at a dizzying rate of rotation. Pallando gave Helluin a nod.
Immediately, the Noldo burst into a blinding ril of Light, empowering the model weapon, and a beam of coherent Light exploded from the end of the glass rod. Immediately, it struck the rotating prism and its beam was projected in a circular array. The spread beam struck the mirrors and reflected forward as a solid grid of white Light, and the sausages were cut to shreds. Helluin ceased her incandescence at once and the grid of beams winked out. 'Naught remained save the scorched lacerations of the sausages and the stench of burnt rat fur. The prism slowed and Pallando turned off the blowtorch.
"That is a part of what he fears," the Ithron said, "the propagation of a grid from the Death Ray that could destroy a host instantly and from a great distance. He fears the end of war as we have known it, and the rise of such weapons wielded by antagonists good and bad. For now, thou art the only one able to empower such a device, but sooner or later, others would learn some alternative way and then, nobility, honor, and the very value of life would be lost."
Helluin was dumbstruck by what she had seen and heard. For the first time, she could understand and even sympathize with Curumo's decision. She shook her head in amazement.
As she digested the impact of the demonstration, Pallando replaced the rats and moved his table o'er in front of the tripod that held the great oil lamp. He lit the wick and adjusted the venturis that fed the flame with more than a normal volume of air. The flame brightened and a hiss accompanied the combustion. The light reflected off the parabolic mirror behind the wick and was concentrated into a bright, tight beam by the lens in front of the wick. The Wizard ignited the blowtorch and the prism spun again as the rats futilely tried to flee its flame. The beam struck the prism and even managed to strike the mirrors, but the resulting grid was comparatively faint and it caused no damage where it struck the far wall of the laboratory. Pallando extinguished the oil lamp and the stench of singed rats rose again from 'neath the table.
"As thou can see, even a strong conventional light source is insufficient to power the grid," he explained. "I have tried sunlight, concentrated and focused through many lenses, but the result is the same. Though a grid can be projected, it is not so powerful as to cause any damage to a target and so t'would be useless as a weapon."
Helluin nodded and felt a sense of relief that the potential horrors her old friend had spoken of would not be so easily duplicated. Yet she felt the demonstration incomplete.
"Meldir nín, thou said aforetime that this permutation of E-ngúrglaw was but a part of what Curumo feared. Are there other such arrangements of mirrors and rats that he would deem even more threatening?"
Pallando winced as if victimized by a sudden gas pain, but he finally sighed and looked at her, saying, "Nay, 'tis no trick with mirrors that has whelped his fears…'tis far, far worse."
At his claim, the Noldo's curiosity fairly leapt through the roof of her skull, for the potential of the Death Grid was greater and more horrifying than 'aught she could imagine. She regarded the Ithron with a raised brow and an intense stare that a lesser spirit would have found daunting. After a few moments, Pallando sighed again and went to rummage in a cabinet.
He returned with a heavy paper tube the length and thickness of his thumb. A fuse that looked like 'naught but a short length of rope protruded through the plug of clay that sealed one end. This he handed to Helluin along with the blowtorch.
"Thou got this not from me," he said. After looking sternly into her eyes and receiving a nod of agreement, he added, "Pray ignite the rope and then toss it in the far corner, WITH HASTE."
Helluin scrutinized the tube with critical intensity, but it appeared mundane and innocuous. She raised it to her nose and sniffed at it, but detected 'naught of scent o'er the pervading stench of burnt rat fur. Finally, she pumped a plunger to pressurize the fuel tank on the blowtorch and then pushed the button that slid a chunk of flint along a short length of steel file to create a spark. The blowtorch ignited. Helluin lit the rope, which fizzled, and just as a frantic Pallando was about to repeat his instructions, the Noldo flicked it away into the corner of the laboratory.
Almost immediately there came a deafening report and she well 'nigh jumped out of her skin. Her eyes slammed shut by reflex as she cringed down, mantling her head with both arms. When she opened her eyes, she saw the Wizard removing his hands from covering his ears.
"Htol! Bag!¹" she exclaimed in shock, "What was that?" ¹(Htol! Bag!, Fuck! Shit! Orkish)
Pallando chuckled at her use of Black Speech in her moment of shock and tried to explain.
"Helluin, just as the blowtorch burns oil hotter and faster than a lamp, the tube burnt its fuel faster still. In the blink of an eye, all its substance was consumed and what thou heard was the expansion of air in response…far more violent than the hissing of the blowtorch. Of the formulation of such compounds we know, but are forbidden to teach or use.
Yet what Curumo fears is not the burning of oil, nor of wood, nor of 'aught else known to Elves or Men. Deep in the ground and rare are some metals, hard to find and harder to refine, which hold a potential a million times more terrifying and destructive than what lay within that tube. This knowledge too is known to us and forbidden."
"I see not the danger of E-ngúrglaw in causing a dangerously fast burn of a metal. How could such be possible when these metals are so rare?"
"'Tis not the triggering of such metals that he fears, but rather the use of E-ngúrglaw for the enrichment of those metals into something more dangerous still¹. We cringe at the possibility. And beyond that lies a process more terrifying still. It uses the lightest rather than the heaviest of metals, and the heat and energy of the Death Ray could produce a reaction so devastating that we dare not contemplate it²." ¹(The separation of Uranium-235 from U-238 by laser excitation isotope separation to provide the fuel for a breeder reactor to produce Plutonium-239.) ²(The triggering of Lithium dueteride in laser inertial fusion ignition. This fusion reaction is also seen in the secondary of a thermonuclear device.)
Helluin looked carefully at her old friend. He seemed tired, with dark circles 'neath his eyes, a grey cast to his skin, and a grim set to his lips. Yet more than all this, she felt an aura of sorrow and foreboding that lay heavy upon him. After his explanation, she deemed he knew far more than he had said.
Perhaps Curumo had spoken of those dangers in far greater detail and had added gravity to them with arcana known only to the Ithryn. Perhaps he had revealed yet more possibilities for catastrophic outcomes growing from E-ngúrglaw's existence. Her conjectures bore not upon Pallando's mood though, and so she offered more direct sympathy for his plight.
"My friend, thou seem o'erborne by the possibilities inherent in the weapon. Yet 'tis gone and no longer should the threat to the days to come seem so dire. Surely this is a good thing, though I say it as I might not have but shortly aforetime. Still, by thine explanations have I arrived at an understanding that its destruction was meet. Ne'er again shall its like threaten Middle Earth."
The Ithron looked up at Helluin and she read the heartbreak in his eyes. This, she could not understand, and so she waited, hoping that he would speak the cause of his despair. Finally, he did indeed speak, and his words etched themselves on her heart, for they spoke of a future none save perhaps she would see.
"For some reason that I can fathom not, some things to come in days long ahead remain known to me whilst the near future is obscured," he said after the silence had drawn out uncomfortably. "At whiles I can glimpse a distant time in which just those perils that Curumo reminded me of indeed come to pass. The Ages of Men approach. Elves fade and the Secondborn shall order those days, and there shall be days of strife such as the Wise have ne'er foreseen. Thou recall the detonation of Sheol. Now imagine that a hundredfold. All the land from Mindolluin to the Ephel Dúath barren in an instant leaving a crater centered on Osgiliath, the land rendered poisonous for generations of Men.
Frail they seem to us, Helluin, easily slain, short-lived, doomed and bedeviled by myriad causes, and yet it lies within their hearts to perfect destruction on scales unimaginable, and to unleash it upon themselves. Perhaps someday thou alone shalt recall that upon a time they accepted Nine Rings and fell. Have pity for them then, meldis nín, for they are so blind as to be a scourge upon themselves."
"So the Darkness of Hildórien shall haunt them to the end of their days," she whispered.
"We are encompassed within the Song, you and I, and are fated to follow its strains, yet freed to determine their own fates, the race of Men shall curse this world and bring about such carnage as shall put Sauron to shame."
For a while, Helluin moved not nor spoke. Bleak thoughts of a dismal, poisoned future swirled through her mind. Noble Huor and brave Tuor, bright Eärendil and her beloved Vëantur, their daughter Almarian and their granddaughter Almiel; their legacy was to be the destruction of the world. It took her moments to mark that Pallando was speaking again.
"Bright the morn and glorious the noon, and long the hours 'til twilight," he said, almost as a lament.
"Ere all fades to night and night is e'er dark," she finished.
More time passed, each captive to their own thoughts, and those thoughts were grim.
"Can the Valar or the One not intercede?" she asked. "Eä is Eru's creation and the Aratar love Arda. Will they not show forth their mercy once again as they did in Beleriand?"
"Helluin, when the One encompassed the changing of the world at the Whelming of Númenor, Eä was changed in concept as much as in form. In preparation for the primacy of the Secondborn, the One withdrew Aman from the Circles of Arda and it exists no longer upon the same plane. Now the Younger Children shall make their fate without interference, for better or worse, and dying, they shall escape it at the last. Once more only shall His Will be directly manifest upon Arda…when all the days shall find their end. For now, we still play a part, but soon as we reckon it, conscience, mortality, and inertia shall drive deeds in the world."
"But what of those of the Faithful who continue to believe in thy beneficence? Are they to be forsaken?"
"Faith and belief are a choice for them, Helluin. They are the font of hope and a cause for love, and both shall be tested as e'er they were. Those who hold them dear shall find in their hearts their own evidence for continuity in their convictions. They shall not rely on new miracles to validate their devotion."
Again Helluin fell silent, ruminating on the insights of the future that Pallando had shared. She was fairly sure that such arcana was not meant for her ears, nor any other of Eru's Children.
Again, Pallando drew her from her growing melancholy.
"The same miracles thou once reveled in shall persist for those with eyes to see them, my friend. What clever tracery wrought in silver or gold could approach the beauty of the patterns of frost upon a leaf? What cunningly shaped gem could compete with the sparkle in a squirrel's beady eye? In the Valar's creation of the natural world did Helluin e'er find the greatest inspiration and awe; star and comet, cloud and rain, sky and sea, mountain and plain, these were her unclaimable treasures. To Helluin the works of Elven craft could in no way compete with the least of the olvar or the kelvar, for of Ilúvatar these had the spark of life. No hand of the Eldar would e'er bring to life a bird, darting and swooping on the wing, or singing its song whilst perched upon her finger. Just as did thou in thy youth, so too the Secondborn shall love the world and feel awe, and it shall come upon them as new in each generation."
She looked to him and he offered her a tentative smile.
"With each generation, a fresh start is given, the blessing and bane of a mortal life. A child opens its eyes in wonder at the new day, and for some, that wonder shall last a lifetime."
"Yet others shall grasp a Ring and fall," she replied.
"Aye, they shall, but again, that is their choice. Yet not all shall fall, Helluin. I wager that for each who does, a thousand shall not, and though their days may be grey with toil and strife, at least they shall not be black. And from time to time, they shall again feel the awe of a child and rejoice, and so renew their faith in life."
"I feel better already," she said with little conviction.
Her words drew a chuckle from the Ithron and he said, "Come, Helluin. Let us take our leave."
With a word of Valarin and a lifting gesture of both hands, Pallando caused the furnishings of his laboratory to disappear behind a rising curtain of sparks, and again the illusion of an empty chamber was all that met their eyes. Helluin found herself wishing that the tidings she had heard could be dismissed so easily and all her foreboding of the Secondborn's dark future dismissed with some conjuring and a wave of the hands.
Thereafter they retraced their steps down the spiral stair, through the arched passageway, and up the hidden stairs 'til they passed the phantom door and stood again in the corridor outside her apartment. A glance back showed no trace of the door.
"I believe the noon meal is soon to be served," the Wizard remarked, and Helluin was surprised to learn that the entire morn had fled whilst they held council in the laboratory. "I bid thee a good day."
Helluin watched Pallando stride off down the hallway and then returned to her rooms. There she sat a while in thought, but finally deemed that solitude did 'naught but encourage her to gloomy brooding, and so she resolved to take a meal and find 'aught else to do.
Now after joining Dúnriel's company of Rangers in the mess hall for their noon meal, Helluin bid them good afternoon and went in search of the steward and his council with Alatar.
She found them in the Ithryn's receiving chamber, hunched o'er a document on a table littered with the leavings of a sumptuous meal. They were just putting their signatures to a long scroll featuring much script with many provisions and even more corrections. 'Twas the summation of a declaration of alliance 'twixt the Kingdom of Gondor and the Ithryn Luin/Khanate of Samara, and t'would be copied out fair and in duplicate with one copy to be carried back to Minas Tirith by the steward's embassy. Vorondil completed his signature with a flourish, clasped forearms with Alatar to seal their pact, and then the scroll was blotted and rolled, and handed o'er into the custody of the citadel's head scribe.
Helluin bowed to the lords as the scribe hastened from the room and offered them a smile.
"T'would seem thy diplomacy has brought results, Lord Steward," she said.
"Indeed so, Helluin, and though not so much may change at once, t'will be a great comfort to the king to know he hath such powerful allies in the east," Vorondil said.
"We have committed to paper our mutual opposition of Sauron and pledged mutual support at such times as the need becomes dire," Alatar elaborated. "'Tis the basis of an alliance, though because of the great distance 'twixt our realms, actual exchanges shall likely be uncommon."
They both offered smiles, seemingly well pleased with their achievement. The Ithron then said to Helluin, "O'er the noon meal I offered the Lord Steward an opportunity for some recreation in celebration of the completion of his official duties."
Helluin looked to Vorondil and raised a brow in question.
"As I may have told aforetime, I once joined many a hunting party ere the responsibilities of state became preeminent. Time became dear and seldom my own to spend, yet for a few days now, I may exercise the liberty to join a hunting party from the citadel. I pray thou shalt join us, Helluin."
"I would be honored to do so, Lord Vorondil. Pray tell, what quarry does this party seek?"
"I am told by the Seneschal of the Citadel that meats are shortening in supply, and so we seek provisions of beefs, camels, and other species as may present themselves," Alatar explained.
The Noldo nodded. To feed the personnel of a citadel and its garrison, large animals would needs be taken.
"An added benefit shall be that the hunting grounds lie to the west, and with our official business done, the ambassadorial party shall find themselves already well on their road home at the conclusion of the hunt. My people shall handle the processing of the kills and the return of the meat to the citadel," the Wizard said.
It seemed that the steward would be able to slay two birds with one stone, indulging himself in a reminiscence of his youthful hunting trips whilst inaugurating their journey back to Gondor. 'Twas an efficient use of time and mileage and she offered the two a nod and a smile.
"A good plan this seems," she said. "When shall we take our leave?"
"I deem we shall ride on the morrow's morn, heading west-northwest," Vorondil said.
Feeling they had 'naught else to discuss, Helluin excused herself saying, "My lords, I take my leave to inform the Rangers of our plans."
Her bows were returned and the Noldo made her way back to the mess hall where she had parted from Dúnriel and her company. She found the Rangers relaxing, enjoying their break from duty and the fullness of their bellies, and she spoke first to Dúnriel.
"Well met, captain. I have learnt shortly ago that we are to take our leave in the morn."
"So, we are to return to Gondor so soon," the Dúnadaneth said. "Lord Vorondil completed his embassy with great celerity, t'would seem."
"His embassy was certainly completed straightaway, yet we return not directly to Minas Tirith. We are to partake in a hunting expedition for the provisioning of the citadel and the celebration of his lordship's youthful memories. I deem the tents and finer furnishings in the wagon may finally come in handy." Dúnriel nodded in understanding, and Helluin added a muttered, "…not sure what we shall do for minstrels and doxies though."
To Be Continued