In An Age Before – Part 248
During the afternoon of 2 Lothron, and throughout the ensuing night, the Ithryn Luin's head scribe supervised the copying the new 'Concordat of Alliance' 'twixt the Blue Wizards and their appendant Khanate of Samara, with the Kingdom of Gondor. The master scrivener had deemed it a plum undertaking 'til he was informed that the fair copies needed to be completed and ready to receive their final signatures by the following morn. The embassy from Gondor was to ride with the dawn, (or shortly thereafter), and there was not a moment to spare.
The poor artisan then scrapped his plans for lavish secondary illuminations of the manuscript and called for his journeymen and apprentices. The Scriveners Guild's apprentices set to work sanding vellums, sharpening quills, and blending their own mucilage with lampblack to make carbon ink. Dyes and pigments they ground and compounded for artists' colours. Stacks of gold and silver leaf were prepared, along with the special burnishers, primers, brushes and sizing, and the trimming knives required for their application. The gilding cushions were degreased with a dusting of finely powdered pumice in preparation for cutting the leaf. Journeymen took the sanded vellums, wiped them down to remove the least trace of dust, and then laid out the text and illumination blocks, rendering them in the finest and faintest of guidelines. The master scribes huddled with the head of their guild, planning the distribution of tasks, the rendering of the body texts, the lettering of titles and embellishments, and the painting and leafing of the illuminations.
An order went to the citadel's Chandlers Guild to immediately provide a gross of twelve-inch beeswax tapers with 'deluxe', square-braided wicks. The master chandler had read the order and cursed the scribe's haste, but called for his journeymen and his apprentices, the latter of which began cutting wicks to length, or entered a sweltering room to squeeze bees for their wax. Alas, because of the uncharacteristic frenzy engendered by the 'wee myopic bookworm', (as the chandler took to disparaging the head scribe), and his sudden order for a gross of tapers, the milking of bees proved insufficient for accumulating sufficient wax. The circumstances forced the head candle maker to hasten several of his apprentices to the citadel's apiary for to filch fresh wax combs from the Guild of Beekeepers. These combs were mounted in frames of wood, to be stacked at the tops of growing colonies to expand the hives.
Now these young individuals, inveigled to criminality 'neath their thralldom to their master guildsman, indeed returned with the combs, but also with painful, reddened welts, some amongst them feverish, vertiginous, a few wheezing or vomiting, and most of them in tears. Some bees had apparently objected to the purloining of their future homes and had administered corporal punishment after their own fashion, employing a multitude of stings. Yet despite these insect castigators' desire for justice, in the end, the combs were melted down in the chandlers' vats.
Meanwhile, wooden discs had been prepared from which dangled concentric circles of cut wicks, each with a small, clip-on lead weight affixed to its end so that they would hang straight down during the dipping process. Finally, 'round the third hour past noon, the dipping of tapers commenced. The discs were lowered, dipping the pendant wicks into the vat for a moment ere being lifted free, depositing a new coating of wax o'er the wicks with each repetition. 'Twixt dips, the discs were set aside on a stand to cool, each with a dozen tapers in progress. During that time, the apprentices who had been stung sat by in despondence, liberally slathered with poultices of egg yolks, honey, and finely powdered natron. Long ere they found relief, they stank of brimstone and all in the citadel had heard the rumor of their misdemeanor.
Now by the sixth hour past noon, the dipping of the tapers was deemed complete, for the gross of candles had reached their finished diameter. Then the full complement of the guild's practitioners descended on the discs, clipping wicks free and stacking their finished wares in a shallow tub of water. Finally, in the seventh hour past noon, as twilight deepened, the chandler's apprentices delivered the candles to the scriptorium along with some dirty looks.
Night fell, and having bright beeswax candles to light their desks, worktables, and writing stands, the scriveners hunched o'er their vellums. For long, not a sound broke the stillness save the scratching of quills. Only occasionally did any cast a nervous glance to the sand clock, or to the windows, fearing to see the brightening of dawn.
During those long hours of darkness, when the close work left their eyes bleary and burning with fatigue, the master scribes began chewing betel nuts, (with the addition of a pinch of slaked lime), to derive their stimulant virtue. 'Twas far more effective than the strongest tea at fighting off fatigue and had long been the measure of last resort during times when the pressure of a deadline became o'erbearing. The mild euphoria that accompanied the wakefulness imparted by the nut reduced the stress of their haste and recommended the practice even more strongly.
Apprentices hastened to set pedestal cuspidors beside each master's stool, and shortly the scriveners began ejecting streams of bright red saliva and betel nut pulp into these spittoons. Their teeth, lips, and tongues also became stained scarlet, creating the macabre impression of the silent scribes spewing copious blood from their mouths. The sounds of spit and splash joined the scratching of quills.
On through the night the labor continued without pause. Scriveners rendered the body text, the headings and other embellishments, and finally the illuminations. A palette of colours and metal leaf brightened the scrolls, drawing visual attention to each provision. Somewhere on the roof of the citadel, a cock ejaculated, crowing exuberantly on a sudden to greet the dawn. In response, the hens dropped their eggs, presaging breakfast. The head scribe completed his proof reading of the documents and heaved a sigh of relief. His guild would not be humiliated this day.
Now during all that frenzied activity, the Rangers had checked their kits and packed their gear. The squires had off-loaded the gifts of state and then loaded provisions onto the wagon. The steward had presented his hosts with sets of vestments dyed with indigo, bejeweled with sapphires, and embellished with cunning embroideries of gold thread. The Lord Vorondil proffered matching slippers featuring toes curled and pointed in the courtly fashion of Gondor. Mitres too accompanied the robes, lofty and gem encrusted, with long, paired lappets trailing down the back, and space 'twixt the front and rear panels for several sturdy hat pins that could be poisoned and wielded as weapons of last resort.
The Ithryn Luin accepted these gifts of state with appropriate grace and gravity, stifling their hilarity at the vast impracticality of the garments. Then, with the Rangers of Gondor and companies of their own soldiers as witnesses, they joined the steward in signing the 'Concordat of Alliance'.
By then 'twas two hours ere noon, and through the fog of their fatigue, the scriveners were irritated by the passing of o'er three hours after dawn ere their work was actually needed. Still, the Wizards had seemed quite satisfied with the scrolls, (though both had looked askance at their gruesome, betel nut reddened lips, teeth, and tongues), whilst the visiting Steward of Gondor had been even more complimentary, though distant, and so they felt validated after all their efforts ere they withdrew to collapse into sleep.
"My lords," Vorondil hesitantly asked the Ithryn after the scribes had taken their leave, "I am reluctant to broach this topic, yet I cannot otherwise assuage my curiosity and disquiet. My sincerest apologies in advance if I should offend ye with my questions, but are the scribes wights? Newly deceased, perhaps, for their tissues seem admirably preserved?"
"Huh?" Alatar asked, confused by the steward's words.
"Thy scriveners, my lord," he said. "They appear to have hemorrhaged profusely from their mouths and throats. I reckon such an affliction proved fatal. Was it also contagious? Were ye compelled to necromancy to fulfill the need of their artisanry?"
Standing by watching, Helluin had to turn away lest she guffaw untimely. Vorondil seemed sincerely discountenanced by the possibility that the scribes had been resurrected from death.
"Ahhh, now I understand, Lord Steward," Pallando said in his most placating tone. "They simply partook of an herbal palliative for the enhancement of their performance. 'Tis not fatal, I assure thee, yet 'tis an uncouth habit still," he intimated, "their chewing of seeds from the betel palm. They claim it quickens them when the call of sleep becomes unrelenting."
"I apologize that their appearance has alarmed thee, Lord Vorondil," Alatar added. "'Tis off-putting indeed. The betel nuts produce a dye that colors their saliva and oral tissues in the ghastly manner thou marked. May I assume thy realm is not so afflicted?"
"Nay, 'tis not, Lord Alatar, and the practice was unknown to me aforetime," the steward said with obvious relief. "I admit that I was profoundly dismayed, but 'twas simply that I was unacquainted with this…devilry. 'Tis possible for me to countenance it now that I apprehend the origin of its symptoms. I thank thee for thine enlightenment, my lord."
The steward and the Wizards exchanged bows and then Vorondil went to mount his horse. Helluin came to bid her friends farewell, yet she also desired to ask after some details she had marked at their first meeting.
"I thank ye again for your hospitality, mellyn nín," she said.
"Heldalúne Maica i móremenel, good fortune 'til next we meet, old friend," Pallando said.
"Safe journeys, Helluin," Alatar added. "I am sorry the resolution was not as thou had hoped."
"I understand now why it could not be, much as I wish it otherwise," she said. "Our struggle against Sauron continues."
"Aye, and I am sure that thou and Gondor shall do your parts, as shall we," Pallando said.
"I find myself curious regarding some details," she said. "Perhaps ye may enlighten me?"
The Ithryn regarded her with brows raised in question, but as they said 'naught to dissuade her from asking, the Noldo forged ahead.
"Pallando, wherefrom came thy pipe? I had not marked it aforetime. And Alatar, whence came thine inspiration for thy new turban?"
The two Wizards chuckled, for her questions were of such lesser gravitas than Vorondil's that indeed, they seemed almost whimsical by comparison.
"I received the pipe from Curumo along with a bit of prescience. During his visit, he claimed that some in the west shall one day hold smoking in high esteem. As to who, when, and what they shall smoke, he said 'naught."
Helluin first recalled the pipe smoking of Dálindir's company in the house of Iarwain Ben-adar. She looked askance at Pallando and he shrugged, unable to elaborate further. Having had no other use for it, he had made it into a magickal implement for focusing his powers. Now he used the pipe as a wand. Her glance then passed to Alatar.
"The turban is an accoutrement of fashion, 'naught more," Alatar said lightly.
Pallando gave him a sidelong glance, which Helluin marked.
"Uh-huh," she said with narrowed eyes.
Finally, the Wizard capitulated with a groan and doffed his turban. Save for an encircling fringe of long white hair, his pate was now shiny and as balled as Amon Lanc. The Noldo's eyes widened. 'Twas an unexpected development in but five years.
Alatar dismissed her shock with a wave of his hand and said, "'Tis of no import really, the unforeseen outcome of an experiment in spontaneous generation."
"Huh?" Helluin said, thoroughly confused.
"I sought to investigate some claims I had heard, specifically that hairs may give rise to worms 'neath certain conditions. I reasoned that life may only come from life, and so I experimented with the hair still growing from my scalp."
"And t'would seem the experiment failed," Helluin ventured.
"Nay, it did not," Alatar admitted with a sigh. "Indeed it worked only too well. I awoke with a nest of worms attached to my head, writhing on my pillow. I was forced to poison my scalp with a shampoo of arsenic and white lead, just to be rid of them."
The Noldo's jaw dropped open in amazement. She sputtered, but could find 'naught to say.
"In a few decades, it shall grow back," he explained with a smile. "For now, donning this turban covers my pate lest I take a chill. As an added benefit, I also appear taller than my colleague."
Pallando rolled his eyes. Helluin shook her head, trying to digest what she had heard.
She finally said, "I had thought 'twas the result of a wager lost. Perhaps thou could use the process as a practical joke one day."
The Ithryn cackled at the thought and Helluin smiled as Alatar replaced his turban.
"As thou art an explorer, we have prepared a token for thee," Pallando said, presenting her a finger-thick, palm-sized disc of brass.
This Helluin accepted and then paused to examine the Wizards' gift. It took her but a moment to comprehend. The disc was actually hollow and within a fine bezel, its circular top face was of clear glass. Inside the compartment, a flattened iron needle floated in the thinnest of lamp oil. A pin suspended it above the bottom so that it touched 'naught and could rotate freely. 'Twas the most finely made compass she had e'er seen.
"The case is threaded so that thou may open it if the needle needs renewal with cat fur," Alatar explained. "The oil shall banish any rusting."
The Noldo gazed at it in appreciation for some moments, realizing that she need no longer float her needle in her palm after filling it with water, and she gave profuse thanks to her old friends for their very practical gift.
"We must away, my friends," she said at last. "Nol mae am na ir govannam ad¹." ¹(Nol mae am na ir govannam ad, (You) Be well until (lit. up to when) we meet again = no-(be) + -l(2nd pers pl subj pron suff, you(pl.)) + mae(well/good) + am(up) + na(to) + ir(when) + govanno-(v. meet) + -am(3rd pers pl subj pron suff, we) ad-(again) Sindarin)
"A cin¹, Helluin," Alatar said. ¹(A cin, And you Sindarin)
"Úharno lend¹, meldis nín," Pallando added. ¹(Úharno lend, Safe (lit. unhurt) journey = ú(negative v, pref, un-) + harno-(v. hurt) + lend(journey) Sindarin)
The second hour ere the noon of 3 Lothron saw the ambassadorial party from Gondor and the hunting party from the Ithryn Luin's citadel riding through the outer gate. The long miles of Rhûn lay ahead, dun, mostly flat, and mind-numbingly boring, or at least Helluin hoped t'would prove so.
The hunting party was made up of ten hunters, a hunt master, a flayer, a butcher with two apprentices, (who also served as camp cooks), a groom, and two drivers for the pair of carts, a mixed company of eighteen Elves and Men all told. Yet 'twas their carts that drew the most attention from the Gondorim, and especially the squires who drove their wagon.
Being carts rather than wagons, they traveled on two wheels rather than four, and the beds were long, o'erhanging the wheels by a fathom front and back. These beds were set on suspensions of leaf springs in both their length and breadth, allowing the cargo to remain level despite the inclination of the ground they traversed. As the wheels followed the terrain, the beds tilted to remain horizontal both side to side, and front to back. They were excellently engineered for the irregular but mostly flat landscape of Rhûn.
The beds too were engineered for transporting meat. Though both featured water barrels set directly o'er their axels, one featured drying racks for the creation of jerky. Each rack was strung with many lines from which thin strips of flesh could be hung to air dry during travel. The other cart carried barrels of brine in which to pickle the choicer cuts. It also held a trunk filled with rock salt for the temporary storage of pelts and hides.
So 'twas that whilst the wagon from Minas Tirith jolted, creaked, and tilted its way 'cross the steppe, the carts from the citadel provided a far more comfortable ride at greater speeds despite all three vehicles being drawn by teams of two horses.
For a week, the procession made its way west-northwest covering 'nigh thirty miles each day. From the start, the hunters and hunt master, along with half the Rangers, had ridden out ahead of the rest, seeking for game. Steward Vorondil spent much time in conversation with the hunt master, riding side by side as they shared lore. Helluin, disinterested in hunting beasts for the Wizards, had taken to riding further in advance and to the north, seeking to espy any foes that might linger in those lands despite that they were 'neath the control of the Ithryn Luin.
During that time, the hunters took some Bobac, Tolai hares, and a few Chukar and flightless Houbara for the enrichment of the stewpots. All of these proved stringy and required long simmering to be truly edible. Still, 'twas reassuring that game was available.
Now on 13 Lothron, the company had come some twelve score miles west-northwest and were roughly halfway to the southeastern coast of the Sea of Rhûn. They had seen 'naught of large game, or of enemies, (for which Helluin was quite thankful), and yet an edginess had grown amongst the hunting party. Now they spaced the carts apart and rode in looser formations. Their eyes roved constantly o'er the landscape.
"Pray instruct thy Rangers to cluster no more than three together as they ride," the hunt master, an ellon named Buanabrúnas¹, (or Buana for short), told Helluin ere they set out on the morn of the 14th. "Nor should more than a pair accompany that…wagon." ¹(Buanabrúnas, Ally to tradition = buio-(serve, hold allegiance to) + na(to) + brún(old, traditional) + -as(n on adj suff) In the 3rd pers present w/o a pron suff, -o becomes –a and the –i is dropped. Sindarin)
He had grimaced and cast a pained glance at the said conveyance.
"Oh? Whyfor?" Helluin asked. "Dost thou fear spooking our game?"
"Nay. We are come to the verges of the worm lands and I would have us pass without attracting their attention."
"That is ill tidings, mellon nín. I had deemed us safe for another hundred miles," she said.
"I act with abundance of caution," Buana said, "and with the intent of schooling the Gondorim to consciousness of the potential threat. Perhaps ere we enter the most hazardous lands, these practices shall have become second nature."
The Noldo nodded to him in agreement. Then she realized that, save for Vorondil, she had spoken of the were-worms to none. Helluin groaned and shook her head.
"I must first speak to them of the worms," she said, "else they shall have no foundation upon which to understand thy concerns."
Just as had Sergeant Brilgon at their arrival, her admission caused the hunt master to roll his eyes at her lapse.
"Thou hast told them of Sauron and the threat of Mordor, hast thou not?" Buanabrúnas asked, straight-faced, causing the Noldo to narrow her eyes at his jibe.
"That threat they apprehended for themselves," she muttered as she strode off to speak with Dúnriel and Draugrán. "Imagine that."
As they stood together on the far side of Helluin's horse, Buanabrúnas observed the Dúnedain captains startle at the Noldo's words, and though he could not hear what she said, he saw their mouths dropping open in shock as they stared at her in disbelief. Then the normally reserved Rangers were pointing urgently to the northwest or wringing their hands whilst shaking their heads and speaking in hasty whispers.
"I regret to inform ye that we come now 'nigh lands that hold a potential for great jeopardy," Helluin had begun as the Ranger captains regarded her attentively.
"More of the Rhoxolāni, Helluin?" Dúnriel had asked, recalling the relative ease with which the bandits had been driven off.
"Nay," Helluin had hedged, "something far worse."
"Oh? How so?" Draugrán had asked as he raised his brows in question and Dúnriel chewed her lower lip.
"Rhûn hosts the scourge of were-worms, mindless beasts of great size that burrow through the landscape."
"That seems little cause for alarm," Dúnriel had nervously reasoned, "for they are 'neath us and should trouble us not. There are worms in farmers' fields and they pose no threat."
"They are little cause for alarm so long as they remain 'neath us," Helluin had muttered.
"But?" Draugrán had asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
"But they are wont to investigate disturbances, tremors of horsemen and wagons, for example."
"What? Investigate? I thought thou claimed them mindless?" He had exclaimed, waving his hands in the air for emphasis.
"They are drawn to vibrations and also to moisture and they may burst forth violently into the air consuming 'aught lying on the ground atop their jaws," Helluin had explained.
"This does not sound good," Dúnriel said. "Claim thee then that one might be assailed in sleep by a worm and suffer injury if they are so unfortunate as to set their bedroll o'er where a worm erupts from the ground?"
"Perhaps," Helluin had doubtfully agreed, "if the worm is very small."
Both of the captains had stared at her in shock.
"Pray make clear this danger, Helluin," Draugrán had demanded. "We would know to what hazard we ride."
"At worst, this entire party, with its horses, wagon, carts, and 'aught else could be swallowed whole and in a moment if the were-worm is large," the Noldo said. "I have seen an entire settlement ruined by a worm that exploded from the ground, consuming homes and collapsing fortifications, called thither by the noise of a war party that whooped and galloped before its walls. I reckon that worm was fifteen fathoms thick and rose twenty fathoms into the air as it burst from the ground. All who abide in these lands fear them."
For a moment, the two wide-eyed Dúnedain regarded the Noldo with mouths agape and shock etched on their faces. Then they began to react, protesting urgently and pointing northwest.
"The closer we draw to the Sea of Rhûn, the greater the danger grows," Helluin had finished as she watched them begin to panic.
"Then we must turn away," Draugrán hissed, "and ride south to rejoin our original track from when we came east!" He stabbed his finger southward in a desperate gesture.
"We cannot linger here, and 'tis folly to continue on this course," Dúnriel agreed, emphatically shaking her head 'nay' and waving her hands in the air. "The hunting of a few beasts justifies not the jeopardy of our embassy."
'Round them, the other Rangers were beginning to cast questioning glances in their direction. The squires atop the wagon's bench were watching their dispute with burgeoning curiosity. The Noldo marked Vorondil starting to walk in their direction. By contrast, the Wizards' hunting party placidly sat atop their horses regarding the surrounding landscape as if bored and eager to be away. Some of their mounts had lowered their heads to graze.
"Pray calm yourselves, mellyn nín," Helluin said.
I am not feeling so calm, Álfrhestr happened to remark at that moment, having listened to e'ery word and being no longer able to hold his peace. I too should not like to be swallowed up in the dead of night.
The horses of Rhûn seem not so easily spooked, Helluin retorted, pray speak with them of this to assuage thy tremulous heart.
Tremulous heart? I am fearless, a warhorse, the stallion declared, but I am not at ease with the notion of my guts being gnawed through by a worm fifteen fathoms thick!
At his protest, Helluin had to roll her eyes. He had no concept of scale.
"The hunting master has recommended some measures to reduce our danger, and those seem to satisfy his own party, Men, Elves, and horses. By adhering to his practices, I wager we shall see 'naught of were-worms, accomplish a favorable hunt as they have done oft enough aforetime, and complete our embassy, arriving safely in Minas Tirith," Helluin had argued just as Vorondil joined them.
"Is there some cause for delay?" the steward asked.
"We are simply discussing the were-worms, my lord," Helluin explained.
"Ahhh, Buanabrúnas has said that we should not come upon any sign of them for another five score miles. He is quite confident that by not clustering together, we shall pass unmarked. His party has done thus in safety many times," Vorondil said.
His apparent lack of concern did much to ease the captains' upset and they nodded hopefully.
"When we set out, ye shall ride no more than three together, and with no more than two to accompany the wagon," Helluin added, passing Buana's recommendations on to the captains.
Before the steward, neither Draugrán nor Dúnriel wished to dissent. The bowed to the lord, nodded to Helluin, and then went to address their companies. Soon enough, the hunting party set out, all riders and vehicles spaced well apart. 'Twas second nature to the Rangers to remain silent whilst on patrol, and so refraining from raising their voices was no hardship. Alone and in silence, each Ranger processed the tidings of giant worms. Most decided that they would believe it when they saw it. So they continued another four days and another five score miles.
During that time, the Rangers had taken to shying away from the wagon for 'twas drawn by a pair of horses, and simple math indicated that if a pair of Rangers rode 'nigh, then that meant four horses had clustered together. They marked that none of the hunting party rode beside their carts, and the wagon made more noise, having double a cart's count of wheels. Soon enough, the squires felt themselves pariahs, shunned and abandoned to their fate by the rest of the Gondorim. They cringed with each drop of a wheel on the uneven ground, knowing that the noise would be repeated as the rear wheels passed o'er the same spot. 'Twas 'naught that they could do to amend 'aught, and so they spent their days fretting and gritting their teeth against the acid rising from their stomachs.
Now on 18 Lothron, the company had reached a distance of nine score miles from the southeastern shore of the Sea of Rhûn. On that day, they saw a gaping hole, seven fathoms in breadth, which encompassed the head of a small wash and was surrounded by the dead remains of some palm trunks. 'Twas obvious that a spring had once fed a rivulet there, a wahat too small to support a settlement, yet a regular water source still. Then it had been consumed whole by a were-worm. The hunters had clucked their tongues or shaken their heads in sorrow. Some had dismounted and walked to the verge of the wormhole to stare down into the bottomless depths. The Rangers had stared in shock and none were willing to draw 'nigh. Their horses nervously stepped in place, perceiving their riders' upset. After a short break, they had taken their leave and continued west-northwest.
Now finally, on the 20th, being then within one hundred fifty miles of the sea, the foremost of the hunters reported spoor of prey. Their report was lauded and raised the spirits of all. Those from the Ithryn Luin's citadel anticipated a hoard of meat. Those from Gondor anticipated being able to soon take their leave of the threatening worm lands.
"Cloven hooves 'nigh a hand's length in breadth, weight 'round one hundred eighty stone for the biggest," the scout said. "I marked the prints of seven different individuals."
After nodding in acceptance of the report, Buanabrúnas spoke with the steward.
"Fortune favors thee, my lord. The tracks tell of a beast too large to be 'aught save the great Cattle of Arōmēz whom thou call Oromë," the hunt master said.
"The Kine of Araw," Vorondil replied with a broad smile. "We are indeed blessed. Rumor of those creatures came west with the returning armies of Rómendacil Minalcar, seven and a half centuries ago. No tale of Gondor has told of them since."
"If we are able, then on the morrow thou shalt hunt this mythic beast," Buana said, "and if 'tis a herd as the tracks suggest, then we leave untouched the calves and their cows; this is the way of the Ithryn."
Vorondil bowed his head to honor his hosts' hunting traditions. He understood the wisdom of leaving the young and their mothers to ensure future generations. They would hunt the bulls and heifers. He wagered that they would still take much meat. The largest of the kine was guessed to be one hundred and eighty stone, just o'er two thousand five hundred pounds. They could render o'er half a ton of meat from that single animal.
"I look forward to the morrow, Buanabrúnas," the steward said, "may the Valar favor us."
The hunt master returned to his party and Vorondil walked o'er to the back of the wagon. There he called a squire to find for him a weapon case, slender, but Man-high in length, and this was done straightaway. The steward shouldered the case by a strap that ran from one end to the other and then walked away from the wagon.
Now on the morrow, a scouting party returned shortly after dawn, for they had kept watch o'er the herd during the night. The kine had rested through the dark hours 'nigh a seep spring located a league to the northwest. With the morn, they had arisen and slowly wandered west, back towards the land whither they had grazed, and whereat they had first been espied the day before. Ere they set out for the hunting ground, Buanabrúnas spoke with Helluin and the Ranger captains.
"My friends, I need ye to keep a good distance from this herd," he said. "'Tis small, and but five of the seven animals are sanctioned for us to take. By order of the Ithryn Luin, the last two, a calf and cow, are not to be touched. More than this, these are large animals and I fear thy bows have not the power to assure a kill…a deer, sheep, or goat perhaps, but not a kine. Indeed, I would favor a spear o'er such bows even to hunt a wild boar."
A full-grown boar might weigh as much as seven hundred pounds and a bow with a forty-five pound draw was borderline for all o'er two hundred. The Rangers shot mostly bodkin points, suitable against Men and Yrch with partial armor, but they would not bleed a game animal fast enough to be ideal. Amongst the Gondorim, only Helluin carried a bow of sufficient draw weight for larger game, whilst her broadheads would make her arrows lethal.
Draugrán and Dúnriel had hunted in Eriador and they accepted the truth of Buana's concerns. A Ranger on patrol, or even several Rangers together seldom needed to take 'aught larger than a small deer, and so they carried not the special weapons of big game hunters. They nodded their willingness to abstain from disrupting the hunt. Of all those from Minas Tirith, only the steward would partake, and the Rangers assumed he would be lent a spear by their hosts.
The company set out, heading west and riding at a prudent trot. The wagon and carts remained behind. Helluin kept an eye on Vorondil, who rode beside Buanabrúnas amidst the hunting party as they covered the league towards the kine. After half an hour, they slowed to a walk and then paused as a trio of scouts slipped forward to confirm the herd's placement. These returned after the quarter part of an hour and conferred with the hunt master.
"The herd grazes atop a low rise. The dominant and subordinate bulls keep watch whilst two cows, a heifer, a yearling bull and a calf feed or rest. We can take the bulls and the heifer, and perhaps even one of the cows if we know which attends the calf."
"Is there 'aught of cover we can use?" Buana asked.
The scouts shook their heads 'nay'.
"A dry wash runs down the east side of the rise, but 'tis upwind and too shallow anyway," one said.
"I deem we shall do best by walking 'nigh them amongst the horses, the more the better to hide us and our scent. Our best approach shall be from the west. 'Tis downwind and the breeze has remained low, but constant," a second scout said.
"Dirty cloaks, then, and I shall arrange to borrow the Rangers' horses," the hunt master said.
Now he came to Helluin, Dúnriel, and Draugrán and explained their strategy. A few minutes later, the Rangers dismounted and removed the saddles from their mounts, leaving only their headstalls and reins. They had now forty-two horses amongst which eleven hunters would hide during their approach to the herd. They knotted the reins to keep their mounts close together in a simulacrum of a wild herd and hoped the kine would o'erlook the absence of colts or a set social structure.
"I shall accompany ye," Helluin told the hunt master, casting a quick glance to the steward and conveying her intention to act as his bodyguard should any need arise.
Buanabrúnas nodded, accepting her presence and saying, "then we shall give thee a cloak to rub in dung for to mask thy scent with horse."
Helluin saw that the hunters were engaged in just that activity, rubbing burlap cloaks in horse dung. These they would drape o'er their shoulders for their approach to the herd.
The Noldo removed all but the broadhead arrows from her quiver, leaving the bodkins with Dúnriel, then doffed her sword belt and passed it to Draugrán for safekeeping. She could not chance a reflection from the bright Sarchram compromising their stealth. Helluin rubbed horse droppings on the rectangle of burlap that Buana had given her, and then tied it 'round her shoulders covering her quiver. She shouldered her bow and awaited the call to move to stalking.
In truth, Helluin was subjecting herself to the hunters' precautions only because she sought to remain close to Vorondil amidst the press of horses. Left to her own devices, she would simply have stalked the kine from downwind as would the Laiquendi, alone, silent, invisible in her stealth, and preferably at night as they lay ruminating.
Now the hunting party set out. Each of the hunters bore a trio of spears, a fathom in length and the thickness of a thumb. They were tipped with barbed steel leaf points a hand's width long, finely sharpened to penetrate hides, sink deeply into muscle or viscera, and remain in place if the quarry should flee. Alone amongst them all, Helluin bore a bow. 'Twas the weapon Vorondil carried that drew her attention, for she had not seen its like in 'nigh two Ages.
Hanging from the left side of his belt by a frog was an o'ersized quiver of three and a half feet in length, its opening tilted forward. It held half a dozen light spears, each five feet in length, but slender, no more than a half inch in diameter. At their tips were mounted steel broadhead points two inches in length and for all intents and purposes, identical in shape to hunters' arrowheads. Most surprisingly, the tail ends of the spears bore fletching like an arrow to be shot from a bow. What could have been mistaken for a wooden club dangled from the steward's right wrist by a leather thong.
"How came thee by an Avari Troll Spear-thrower, Lord Steward?" Helluin asked.
"In my youth some friends and I reproduced the ancient weapon that we had seen in a scroll of lore. We practiced long and used it with success in hunts for deer. Indeed on several occasions, the dart passed 'nigh fully through the animals," Vorondil said.
The spear-thrower could not launch a projectile with the speed or range of a bow, nor could it be prepared as fast as an archer could nock, but the projectile itself was of far greater mass than any arrow. A proficient hunter could cast a light spear at o'er a hundred miles per hour and the impact could be devastating. The difficulty was that it required excellent timing and a flawless ambush of the intended prey. Hunters improved their chances when they could close to within fifteen yards. Still, at such distances a wary creature might espy the hunter's throwing movement whilst launching the spear, and even a slight shift in the target as the quarry began to flee could render a deadly shot ineffective, causing only a peripheral wound. With the time required in preparing to cast, there would be no second chance for a kill.
Historically, the weapon had been deployed in warfare against large, slow moving targets, the Tor foremost amongst them. In those cases, the favored tactic was to ambush a monster with a company of warriors armed with spear-throwers. They could maintain a greater, and therefore safer, engagement distance than was possible with hand cast spears, and the spears struck harder and faster, improving the chances of penetrating a Troll's hide for a kill. Only later, when bows advanced to high power and accuracy, was the spear-thrower supplanted in warfare, for it had always been slow to use and unwieldy to bear on the battlefield. And whereas the steward carried six spears, Helluin's quiver typically held two dozen arrows and she was practiced at loosing two or three with a single draw.
The hunting party continued westward for the third part of an hour 'til their position, a furlong past the herd, was confirmed by a scout. Then the hunt master ordered the horses turned north-northeast to pass within a dozen yards of the kine on their southern side. As hoped, the breeze had held in their favor and they felt it on their faces, and faintly, the scent of their prey. The horses, with the hunters hidden amongst them, came o'er a low rise and into view of the kine.
Patience now was their ally. The herd of horses moved forward at a leisurely walk, frequently pausing to graze in the manner of wild animals. They paid the kine no mind, and after an initial glance, the kine ignored the horses as well. So the hunt progressed for the half-part of an hour, with the hunters drawing e'er nearer their quarries.
At fifteen yards, the horses paused, lowering their heads to graze along the lower margin of the rise the kine stood on. They were still some paces west of the herd whose dominant bull stood atop the rise, but he lowered his head to snatch a clump of grass, a sign that he was unperturbed. 'Round him, the rest of the kine were equally at ease. The heifer and one of the cows grazed slightly downslope, the calf at its mother's hip. The second cow lay chewing her cud, whilst the subordinate bull and the yearling grazed just o'er the crest of the rise. The hunters marked a dark blotch on the mother cow's flank and a dark tail tip. With the calf, she would be off limits. Of the rest, the yearling bull would be their last choice target.
Now after standing for the sixth part of an hour, the hunt master directed the horses forward. Slowly they advanced 'til they were abreast of the kine and just within a dozen yards. Still, there was no reaction from the herd, though the bull had briefly raised its head to watch as they started to move. After confirming that the horses were simply continuing east as they had aforetime, he lowered his head to snatch another mouthful of grass.
'Twas during that time that the hunters slowly and carefully began to make their way amongst the horses, untying their reins so that each horse was its own master, and advancing 'til they crouched behind only the single row of steeds closest to the kine. The horses began to space themselves apart as they continued east, increasing the gaps 'twixt each other.
The slaughter began and ended abruptly, with shocking swiftness, just as it should. The hunters took a single step forward, revealing themselves 'twixt the horses for a moment and clearing their line of sight to their prey. Spears flew in a loose cloud, hissing briefly ere thudding into the sides of the kine. The heifer, one of the cows, the subordinate bull and the dominant bull dropped or struggled to take a couple steps ere a second spear ended their futile attempt at flight. The cow with the calf and the yearling bull galloped away to the north whilst the horses came to a trot heading east. Steward Vorondil stood with the thrower hanging from his wrist, five spears remaining in his quiver and the sixth protruding from the dominant bull's eye. Helluin relaxed her draw, lowered her bow, and replaced the arrow in her quiver. The kine had ne'er been close to stampeding towards them and she had not been required to shoot. Then she set her fingers to her lips and produced a piercing whistle.
Reacting to her call, Álfrhestr turned back and trotted towards the hunting party. The other horses followed. Vorondil and the hunters were making their way uphill to examine their kills and words of congratulation had just begun to flow. They slapped each other's backs or clasped forearms, rejoicing in their success and especially, they praised the hunt master. They had taken the animals they needed and sustained no injuries. The hunt could not have gone better.
That was startling, Álfrhestr said to Helluin when he came 'nigh. He looked o'er the dead and added, remind me to remain behind the spears.
I shall do so when possible, the Noldo replied, casting a glance to the south where the Rangers were appearing in the distance.
One of the hunters mounted his horse and galloped off to summon the carts and the wagon. Shortly, Dúnriel and Draugrán arrived with their Rangers and began looking o'er the results of the hunt as the hunters retrieved their spears. Helluin retrieved her sword belt and the rest of her arrows.
"T'would seem that the steward has enjoyed success," Draugrán remarked as Vorondil wrestled his light spear from the bull's skull.
"He was accurate and as proficient as any I have seen," Helluin replied. "His weapon too was praiseworthy. I deem his spear outpaced those thrown by hand, for it seemed that it struck first. The hunts of his youth trained him well."
"That is a lot of meat," Dúnriel observed. "I wager the butcher shall be well employed."
"I suspect that many of us shall spend the afternoon cutting jerky," Draugrán muttered.
In the distance, the carts and the wagon had just appeared, and after another ten minutes, the butcher and his apprentices were meeting with the hunt master and nodding in approval. The wagon rumbled up and the squires dismounted to stretch their legs. The mixed herd of horses milled about, keeping a comforting distance from the scene of the slaughter and the scent of blood in the air. On the low rise, the flayer had set to work.
"Pray loan me thy bone saw a moment," Vorondil asked the butcher.
"With our compliments, my lord," an apprentice said as he bowed and handed o'er the tool.
The steward favored him with a smile and strode off towards the fallen bull. For the third part of an hour, all seemed well. The processing of the carcasses had begun in earnest, with fresh hides rolled up 'twixt layers of rock salt and the butcher and his apprentices drenched in blood. The steward had sawn off the great bull's horns and was struggling to free the keratin sheaths from the bone cores. Then the ground began to shake.
For a moment, none moved and all stood petrified in shock, then panic set in with realization of the impending threat.
"Mount and scatter!" the hunt master screamed, but already the team from the citadel were fleeing to their mounts. "Get the carts and the wagon away!"
Helluin charged up the rise and grabbed the steward by the arm. He protested leaving the horns behind. She began dragging him downhill towards their horses ere they bolted in terror.
"Were-worm!" she hissed to his exasperated glance, and his eyes grew wide.
The Noldo saw Vorondil into his saddle and gave his steed a whack on the butt that sent it into a panicked gallop off to the west ere she mounted Álfrhestr. She swept her eyes 'cross the rapidly evaporating camp and saw that the Rangers were already galloping away, following the hunters in all directions. Even the squires were urging their team to haul the wagon as it bucked into motion. The carts had turned and were already moving off in different directions at a trot.
"Time to go, Álfrhestr!" she shouted, and he took off following the steward west.
Helluin recalled the first time she had felt a worm closing in. Outside a small walled town, she had watched attacking horsemen flee as the ground began to shake. Captive to her curiosity, she had held Barq steady 'til the giant were-worm had exploded from the ground, engulfing a good portion of the settlement, and then Barq had bolted. In hindsight, she realized that he had had better sense than she. Then again, having ne'er aforetime seen a worm, and scarcely believing the accounts she had heard…
Now she galloped away without hesitation, for the tremors in the ground were swiftly growing and they felt no less intense than what she had felt aforetime. They needed to gain distance ere the ground became too unsteady even for Álfrhestr. The poor stallion ran as he had ne'er run aforetime, occasionally twisting his neck 'round to glance back. Helluin marked the whites of his eyes and a string of spittle dangling unmarked from his lips. Soon enough she felt his lungs heaving and she reined him in to a canter deeming that they had covered 'nigh half a mile. Then she halted him and they turned back.
They were just in time to see the ground erupting in a cloud of dirt and the column of the were-worm launch itself into the sky. From that distance 'twas hard to gage its size with certainty, yet 'twas a monster sure. For a frozen moment, it reared vertical, its gaping maw encircled by five great claws. Then it listed o'er and fell towards the south, and the impact of its body on the ground was felt as a shockwave in the earth. She looked her terrified steed in the eyes.
May I please run to Gondor now? he asked.
We must first find the steward and the Rangers, Álfrhestr, Helluin replied, yet I deem we are safe enough.
What a horrible land this is. How did that thing find us?
I wager 'twas so much vibration in the earth from so many people and horses in one place moving about at one time.
Hereafter I shall walk quiet as a mouse, he claimed, echoing Barq's words in The Angle.
Helluin offered him a comforting smile and laid her hand on his neck for reassurance.
Ahhh, the steward approaches, she told him, ere saying, "I rejoice to see thee safe, Lord Steward."
"What a horrible land this is," Vorondil spat without preamble, and received emphatic, head-bobbing nods of agreement from Álfrhestr, "I should fault none for running all the way back to Minas Tirith."
"I understand," the Noldo said sympathetically, "yet in a day thou hast triumphed in hunting the Kine of Araw and witnessed the appearance of a rare and mythical monster."
"Yet having lost the horns, I have no proof of the one and none shall believe the other," he lamented.
Helluin could only nod. What he said was most likely true, at least for the masses, if they were to be informed at all. For those whose impressions were truly of import, she could offer aid.
"I too saw all that came to pass, my lord, and with King Eärnil and Prince Eärnur, I can share my memories on thy behalf."
"My thanks, Helluin," he said, mollified somewhat, "at least we have escaped unscathed. I wager we should now look to the Rangers."
"Aye, my lord, and I worry foremost for the squires and that wagon. The rest I saw mounted and riding ere we took our leave. I wager they followed the hunters to safety."
"That is good tidings. Let us be away then," he said, and then after a moment's thought, asked, "how long think thou that the worm shall linger?"
"In truth, I know not," she said, "for only once aforetime have I seen so great a monster, and I tarried not to observe it for my horse bolted at its coming."
"I suppose it matters not, save that we should then know its position whilst it remains above ground," Vorondil said. "I reckon that for now, we should be quiet as mice."
Again, Álfrhestr bobbed his head in an emphatic nod of agreement and so they set out in search of their company.
Night had fallen ere they gathered all of the Rangers and found the wagon with the squires still shaken by their frantic, headlong flight 'cross the steppe. The Gondorim were tiptoeing, had picketed their horses in twos or threes on an acre of land, and made their camps in small groups of no more than four. After a cheerless supper, a scout carrying tidings from Buanabrúnas and the hunting party found them.
"One of our scouts dared to gaze upon the worm hole, for the were-worm took its leave 'nigh sundown," he said. "All in our party are well, but the hunt was a total loss."
"We regret the outcome, my friend," Vorondil said, "and we rejoice that thy people are safe. As for ourselves, we make for Gondor with the dawn. Thou hast our thanks for allowing us to partake of the hunt. I am sure we shall all recall it to our last breath."
"As shall we, my lord. The like has ne'er beset us aforetime. I shall convey thy words to the hunt master, and we give thanks that all thy people are well. Pray have a safe return home, Lord Steward."
The scout bowed and took his leave. The Gondorim camp settled down for a sleepless night.
With the dawn, they set out west-southwest with the grim goal of passing the Ered Lithui and the Cirith Gorgor. The company rode in small groups of three and all shunned the wagon. Vorondil rode with Helluin at the fore and they shared much conversation. 'Twas 22 Lothron.
Now on the 24th, having come then fifty miles from the ill-fated hunt, they passed a skeleton with bones bleached white by the sun. Indeed, 'twas so bright a white that it drew their attention, standing out as it did against the dun of the land and the dusty green of the coarse grass and tough forage. Helluin and the steward rode 'nigh to investigate. Lying there, as if in mockery of their prior endeavor, they found the long dead remains of a bull kine, and though a bit smaller than the one Vorondil had speared, 'twas no denying that it had once been an impressive beast.
Helluin dismounted, and with the Sarchram, hewed free its remaining horn. This she presented to the steward with an ironic smile.
"Thou hast now some proof of thy hunt, my lord, an heirloom for thy house in memory of what was and what could have been."
Shaking his head in wry amusement, the steward accepted the horn and offered her a brief dip of his head.
"And what passes in Rhûn remains in Rhûn," he said.
To Be Continued