In An Age Before – Part 254
Now during the twelve years since Helluin and Galadhon had visited Rhosgobel, Aiwendil had indeed made appeals to his friends, and whether on four, six, eight legs, or wings, many amongst them offered their aid. Although all felt some degree of animosity towards the Dark Lord and his servants, 'twas simply that many were ill-equipped to help. The snails, millipedes, and sloths were just too slow to bear hence any tidings in timely fashion. So too were the turtles, the walking insects, the frogs and toads, and the freshwater crabs. The squirrels might have been quick enough, but by nature, they were too frivolous and too easily distracted.
In the end, it fell to those of the pelted persuasion most inclined to predation to proffer aid by land. The far ranging wolves and feral dogs, and the more territorial foxes, lynxes, (and lesser cats), all volunteered to keep watch and spread tidings of what they saw. They also took it upon themselves to publish the need for sentries to their kin and the packs further north and south.
But the most valuable allies that Helluin and Galadhon had hoped to recruit had indeed enlisted by the flock. Birds of all kinds could keep watch with sharp eyes o'er broad tracts of land, and they were the swiftest at reporting what they saw. If a small bird found 'aught that it deemed suspicious, it sang its heart out and many others heard its tidings. These alarms were then taken up in a widening net by the lesser fliers 'til their words eventually reached Suꝺriborg. If 'twas a larger bird that witnessed something shady, then it might swiftly fly the intervening miles to make its report firsthand. As expected, of all the feathered nesters, 'twas the raptors who by nature were the most valuable allies. Sharp sighted, critically discerning, and fleet awing, they were the best possible spies and messengers available.
There were some other kindreds of beings amongst whom Aiwendil had far less influence, but to whom Helluin made appeals. Though commonly disregarded, the olvar sensed much, and in whispers, their observations spread on the breeze. In aggregate, their reactions, fears, and moods were broadcast as a subtle but pervading 'atmosphere' throughout the landscape. To this, some Elves were quite sensitive and even mortals were not wholly oblivious, as reflected in many popular sayings such as, 'a peaceful valley', 'a watchful wood', or 'a sleepy hollow'.
So 'twas that when six first came from the eaves of the Greenwood itching for a fight, their rage was quickly sensed and thousands of stalks of tall grass whispered of their coming. Indeed, they were not consciously acting to alert Helluin and Galadhon; they were simply expressing their own dismay at the potential for violence. Warfare had ne'er done them any good, for those not hewn to build stockades or cut to feed campfires oft suffered as casualties, trampled 'neath the boots of hosts, uprooted to clear battlefields, or burnt to reduce cover.
The two Noldor had been sinking a post upon which to mount another beehive when they paid heed to the growing unease of the fields. The land 'felt' nervous, and when they harkened, the message of the olvar became clear. Wrath comes west on two legs, they heard myriad voices softly yet urgently breathe. They set aside their task and went to arm themselves.
Ere they were ready to ride, the crops, fruit trees, wildflowers, and vegetables of the farm had taken up the warnings of the grass. Deeming that their potential foes would follow the scent of burning to Nýr Vera, they rode north. They passed through the woods and finally came to the last rise ere the stream that had separated the town from Norðr-vestandóttir Bý and the lands south ere the farm and the town of Nýr Vera had become Suꝺriborg. There they dismissed the horses and went forward afoot.
I bid thee back o'er the last rise to await our call, Álfrhestr, Helluin said. Take Erynroch with thee and fear not, for ye shall be safe there.
If thou say so, Helluin, the warhorse said.
He exchanged a few 'words' with Galadhon's horse and then the two cantered back out of sight beyond the rise. Helluin and Galadhon leapt the stream and then took up positions in the branches of the trees that grew alongside the bank. There they had a view o'er all of the burnt town and the grassland to both sides. Then they settled in to wait.
Now an hour passed and then another. Mortal warriors might have started to become bored and perhaps their attention would have wavered, but not so the Eldar. Their sharp eyes scanned the grassland and the scattering of trees standing to the east whence the warnings of the grass had come. They remained unmoving, each with a hand gently stroking the bark to offer reassurance and calm to the trees they had climbed. Towards the end of the second hour, both marked stealthy movements in the grass several furlongs to the east of where the gate in the palisade had stood.
Those who come are truly filled with wrath, and that is what lessens their stealth, Helluin thought. No Laiquende would be so rash.
Ere they arrived at the burnt palisade, Helluin and Galadhon had made their count six. They were Silvan Elves of the Greenwood, yet the appearance of these differed from any Helluin had seen aforetime. 'Neath their cloaks, but o'er their customary long woven tunics of subdued green they wore limited plate armor patterned on leaves and bearing intricate linear reliefs. The suits comprised a breastplate that combined cuirass and plackart, pauldrons, vambraces, cuisses, and greaves. All the plates were colored orange-gold deepening to dark bronze along their margins. They bore bows and quivers of arrows, and long fighting knives.
Warily they came forward with arrows nocked, carefully searching the ruins of the town, and yet haste too governed their pace. They clearly sought for enemies and seemed expectant of finding them, though they had not conducted themselves as a company of that size should to maintain the best advantage. In but the quarter part of an hour, they stood amidst the ash and rubble, and having seen none, they rose from their crouches and relaxed the tension on their bowstrings. Then they looked to each other with questioning glances, seemingly disappointed that battle would not be joined. And finally, they paid heed to the breeze and the subtle voices of the olvar, but by then, 'twas far too late. Preoccupied with their hopes of violence, they marked not what had floated through the air.
Hearts afire o'er wrongs endured,
Enemies sought in wrath inured,
Smoke calls forth to hearts inflamed,
To lands long desolate thou came.
Yet seeing 'naught and finding none,
Passions cool with the sinking sun,
Blood not split and arrows not spent,
Hopes of redress remain unmet.
Forsake thy quest upon this day,
'Tis 'naught herein to bid thee stay,
Ruin alone abides this land,
And none tempt thee to raise thy hand.
Another time, another place,
May gratify thy vicious haste,
To slay with arrow, blade, and bow,
Shall still not raise the one laid low.
Hearts grown cold o'er wrongs endured,
Enemies fought with wrath inured,
Woe beckons to hearts inflamed,
To desolation, cold souls came.
When life has come and gone at last,
Thy days spent looking to the past,
To right a wrong beyond redress,
Forsaking peace 'til final rest.
Moon grows dim and sun loses heat,
Ten thousand fallen at thy feet,
Years spent slaying thine enemy,
Their blood pooled in thy memory.
Another world, another Age,
'Tis time to set aside thy rage,
To slay with arrow, blade, and bow,
Cannot raise even one laid low.
Helluin continued her song as one by one, the six ellith and ellyn set aside their weapons and sat, shaking their heads. The enchantment had come upon them and chilled their passions as ice water cast upon an ember. They looked 'round at the devastation, and 'neath the reddening light of the setting sun, it struck them as somber, melancholy, and Nýr Vera seemed the gravesite of many dreams. All they could smell was the scent of freshly burnt wood and scorched earth, and both smells they associated with the heartbreak of war. They saw not a living soul anywhere.
Only their leader had resisted at first. The elleth, whom Helluin guessed had passed o'er two thousand years, was reluctant to abandon the notion of striking a blow against those who had invaded their lands, but against the power of the song, she eventually succumbed. No count of deaths or any measure of vengeance would restore her queen and the other fallen soldiers to life. T'would not resurrect her father who had died upon Dagorlad in an Age before when she was a child. These things she knew, and yet it did little to assuage the hatred in her heart. That, she would carry beyond her life on the Mortal Shores, even if it had to be set aside this day for lack of foes. In the end, the rage in her heart was replaced with disappointment.
'Twas a dejected company that finally rose and took their leave, heading back to the east. Once they had walked into the tall grass beyond the perimeter of the stockade, Helluin ceased singing. She looked o'er at Galadhon and they traded grins. The six Tawarwaith had been repelled without violence, without a single arrow shot, and without a single challenge answered. They had ne'er even marked that they were not alone. More importantly, they had ne'er seen Norðr-vestandóttir Bý.
Eventually, the detail returned to their patrol commander and reported that they had found 'naught, seen none, and felt no danger. They had found no bodies amongst the ruins. The olvar whispered of no lives lost. By whatsoe'er means and at whosoe'er's hand the fire had been set, it had burnt only an empty and ruined town.
"Perhaps 'tis a boon, lord commander, for now no enemies can occupy it," the detail leader said.
The recently commissioned officer nodded, accepting the older and more experienced elleth's words. It seemed there would be no need to send another messenger to the king. That was just as well, for he was hoping to increase his lord's trust with each patrol he led. He was six score and twelve years of age, relatively young, and despite being the scion of a noble house, he still felt that he had much to prove.
"Let us continue our patrol then," he said, "we turn northeast, deeper into the wood."
The others welcomed his decision. None of them truly felt comfortable lingering on the eaves of their forest home. The grasslands beyond they had long deemed an unnecessarily hazardous place to tread. 'Twas bad enough that they were so far south of the Forest Road, yet they all understood that their young commander sought to make a favorable impression whilst gaining practical experience. Who could blame him, for the needs of their realm only seemed to grow as the world darkened? At least Dol Guldur remained empty.
So thou wouldst enlist birds and bees to aid thy mission, yet not other Elves? Álfrhestr had asked when Helluin and Galadhon had returned to the horses after leaving the ruins of Nýr Vera.
Not these Elves, she had replied. At his questioning look, Helluin had explained, they serve King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, and I shall not trouble him with even the mention of my name, let alone beg the loan of his warriors. His people are beset with spiders and have suffered much from the Yrch of Gundabad. I deem my defeat of the Witch King left those Orcs without a master and free to assail the Greenwood. Surely, the king must blame me for the loss of his wife.
The stallion had nodded in understanding. Somehow, even the best of deeds could lead to deadly consequences unforeseen. He wondered if good oft rebounded to evil.
As they rode back to the farm, Galadhon pondered the irony of Helluin's song, dissuading the Tawarwaith from pursuing their vendetta whilst describing some aspects of her own. The irony was greater than he could know. Helluin had missed her soulmate's eighty-eight year tenancy in Norðr-vestandóttir Bý, having first arrived there less than sixty years after her passing. Now, the Noldo was living in the transformed elleth's cabin and cooking her food at the same hearth. She would ne'er come closer to her beloved Beinvír this side of the Sea.
'Twas barely a season later that a message was sent by the Lord Gwaihir, who in surveying Suꝺriborg had found no place with an altitude sufficient for him to comfortable launch back into the sky. He had been forced to employ a third party courier. This intercessor was a trusted associate who had proved competent aforetime, and so the Lord of the Eagles had alighted in the Loeg Ningloron and engaged the services of the aging Idnatzio. The swan had been no less terrified than he had been in 2003, and now, seventeen years later, believed himself cursed.
My good Idnatzio, 'tis a joy to find thee well. Alas, I must impose upon thee again, dear friend, for to bear to Helluin Maeg-móremenel a report of some Yrch. Thou knows her from aforetime when thou sought her high in Nanduhirion. She now abides on a pleasant farm in Suꝺriborg. Be a good fellow and inform her that four dozen Yrch have paddled 'cross the river to create mischief on the east bank of Anduin. Thank thee kindly, my dear friend. 'Twas 20 Lothron.
Idnatzio's terror left him well 'nigh shedding feathers from trembling so violently. The Eagle not only knew his name, but had called him 'dear friend', as if he were a hors d'oeuvre. The Elf Helluin he barely remembered from a few moments of confused chagrin after finding himself high in Nanduhirion for no reason that he could recall. The swan had taken his leave and minded his own business since. Now the Eagle implied that he had been acting as a messenger and was employing him thus again. He could but nod his agreement to the terrifying raptor ere taking flight. In a panic, Idnatzio had blindly fled east 'cross the river. Somewhere o'er the water, he lost his way as he also lost his mind.
Idnatzio arrived well north of Suꝺriborg and well east of the river. Indeed, he crashed into the mixed species of hardwood trees growing on the eaves of the Greenwood but a score and ten miles south of Rhosgobel. There he recovered to his feet, flapping and calling out 'til some Elves came from the forest to hear his rede. Before them, he babbled incoherently as the company tried to pay heed. Alas, he made no sense to them at all. So long as they remained, he ne'er gave up trying. 'Twas the morn of his second day of flight, 21 Lothron.
"Can any understand 'aught he says?" the young detail commander asked.
He looked hopefully to his company, especially the eldest and most experienced in his command. The members of the patrol looked to each other, yet they could do 'naught but shrug or shake their heads 'nay'.
"At times some amongst us glean feelings and impressions from the trees," the elleth who had led the detail to Nýr Vera said, "but to speak with a creature bereft of mind? For that, perhaps only the Brown Wizard of Rhosgobel might succeed."
Some of the company nodded in agreement and others grimaced in reluctance. The Wizard was deemed unreliable by most, and though he had ne'er been unfriendly to their people, he had e'er seemed…detached. Atop that, rumor reported that his abode was peculiar and unpleasant. Still, the commander could think of 'naught more likely if they were to solve their quandary, for by some intuition, he deemed the swan had something of importance to declare. Rhosgobel now lay just o'er a long day's march north. Finally, he came to a decision and nodded to himself.
"We shall bring the swan to Rhosgobel. Those not wishing to go shall maintain the patrol and we who go shall meet thee after," he said. He looked 'round and all but three of the company shook their heads 'nay' or looked down. "Very well, we shall rejoin ye in three days."
With him went the elleth who had suggested the Brown Wizard, and two young ellyn who accompanied them mostly to satisfy their curiosity about the Ithron's outlandish reputation. The commander charged them with carrying the swan. They wrapped a cloak snugly 'round Idnatzio and secured it with many turns of rope so that 'naught but his head and butt protruded from the ends. The same rope also formed a shoulder strap that they took turns slinging cross body as they marched through the trees. The entire time, Idnatzio continued declaiming nonsense 'til after a few hours, they bound shut his beak as well.
Thus, they came to Rhosgobel in the mid-afternoon of the next day. For some while, they could only stare in shock at the appearance of the place. The noise and stench struck them hard as well. From the canyon-like walls of hutches, kennels, and nest boxes, hundreds of pairs of eyes followed their e'ery move. 'Round the margins of the compound, packs of wolves and feral dogs, and a few lynxes slunk amidst the undergrowth, regarding them as prey. Hawks and owls watched from the forest canopy whilst murders of crows and flocks of blackbirds weighed down the lower branches. It even seemed that the trees leant o'er as if to stoop upon them. The Elves had e'er been at home in the forest, but not here. Indeed, they would have preferred to face a company of Yrch in an open field.
"Strange and not funny at all," one of the ellyn nervously muttered.
"Aye, 'tis threatening and many have likely died in this place," whispered the other.
They were gripping their bows so tight that their knuckles had turned white.
None of them really knew what to do, or whither amidst all that confronted them the Wizard might lurk. They searched the façade but saw no proper entrance. Only a single window was visible, and that deep down a tunnel through the surrounding bird nests, rabbit hutches, and jackal crates that made up the towering walls of animal dwellings. Alas, they were not on the correct side of Rhosgobel to see the door on its tiny porch. The commander shook his head, wondering if he could shout loud enough to make himself heard o'er the din by anyone inside.
'Twas at that moment, as they were ruled by confusion and intimidation, that a pack of half a dozen wolves came from a south facing extension, hauling forth a disheveled Man. He staggered as three wolves dragged him with their teeth by the hem of his robe, another pair snapping at his behind, and their leader preceding him towards the Elves. If this was the Ithron Radagast, then he seemed to be a prisoner, drawn hence from some dungeon as if to the gallows. The wolves pulled him 'nigh, then released his garments and sat in a circle 'round his feet. They eyed the Elves and growled low in their throats.
Radagast placed a finger o'er one nostril and exhaled forcefully, expelling a gobbet of mucous from the other and then wiping his nose with the sleeve of his robe. He leant forward to stare hard at them, blinking as if to focus his eyes. They had expected bizarre and the Wizard had not disappointed. Now they offered him their full attention, harkening in hope of some sage advice.
"Ahhh, my friends, I would bid ye release the duck," he said, looking pointedly at Idnatzio.
The wolves seemed to loom closer, emphasizing his request with renewed growling. The two ellyn made haste to unbind the swan and they rolled him out of the cloak so that he stood before the Wizard. The surrounding animals seemed to relax a bit after seeing that he was unharmed. One of the ellyn unwound the rope encircling his beak and Idnatzio burst into a cacophony of gibberish as if not a moment had passed since he had been muzzled.
Aiwendil leant forward towards him. The multitude of animals surrounding them burst into answering yips, barks, growls, hoots, and croaks. The Elves were sorely tempted to stop their ears, yet they hoped to hear 'aught the Ithron would say.
"My lord, he is mad," the commander shouted o'er the chorus of animal noises. "We could make no sense of 'aught he said and brought him hither in hope that thou could apprehend his rede."
The Wizard nodded, then drew himself up, and after looking 'round at all the upset creatures, shouted at the top of his lungs, "SILENCE!" His voice rang through the clearing as a clap of thunder.
E'eryone including Idnatzio ceased their braying, calling, barking, and yowling. The yard 'round Rhosgobel was silent for probably the first time in centuries and the soft susurration of the surrounding air could be heard as a breeze passed amongst the leaves.
"Ahhh, much better," the Wizard said. Then he turned to the swan, asked, "Now what hast thou to say?"
Idnatzio immediately took up his babbling, saying, gibbidy-gabbidy-goo-a-bibbidy-babbidy-boo.
The commander shrugged and said, "He hath spoken much the same since we found him."
Aiwendil squinted in concentration as he harkened to the swan. In the background, the other animals began to resume their commentary and the yipping, grunting, and shrieking grew from a few tentative and isolated calls to a full-throated tumult of bellows, barks, and bleats. Shortly, the din had resumed as loud as it had e'er been aforetime. The Elves winced.
"Thy duck has a horrible accent," Aiwendil told them. "I can make no sense of his speech."
The commander threw up his hands, the elleth groaned, and the two ellyn tittered at their ludicrous situation. They deemed the Ithron no less addled than the swan and would be happy to take their leave now that the most ignominious rumors about the Brown Wizard seemed to have been confirmed.
With the last of his hope, the commander shouted to Aiwendil o'er the din, "My lord, I am convinced that he is a swan, and so far as I can tell, he has ne'er been a duck." He felt stupid even as he said it.
Yet Aiwendil had harkened to him. He snatched Idnatzio by the neck and turned his head from side to side in appraisal. He seized one of his wings and pulled it open wide, then examined its range of motion. He reached back to haul the swan aloft by his tail and palpated his 'vent'. At last, he set the swan back down on his feet and nodded to himself.
"I agree that he is a swan at present," the Ithron said, "though I am still unsure as to whether he has ne'er been a duck."
Using such dregs of his Maia powers to which he was still allowed access, he captured Idnatzio's consciousness whilst staring eye to eye with him. At first he reeled, finding the swan's perspective as disorienting as Helluin had when she had first looked into the swan's mind in Nanduhirion. All it had seen was projected on the inside of a sphere and 'twas like looking through a fish's eye. Any movement made the horizon lurch in a nauseating fashion.
Aiwendil looked into Idnatzio's memories, winding back the swan's recent experiences like a sickening nightmare seen in reverse 'til he came upon Gwaihir's visit and the charge laid upon him by the Eagle. No wonder he hath lost his wits, the Wizard thought, he was utterly terrified of the giant raptor, poor fellow.
Now the Ithron perceived the message and the importance of it, and he marked that Idnatzio had flown far off course. Against four dozen Yrch, Helluin and Galadhon might profit by having aid and forewarning would be more valuable still. He blinked himself out of the swan's head and confronted the Elves, for now they would needs convey the Windlord's warning to Suꝺriborg.
"This swan names himself Idnatzio," Aiwendil told them. "He hails from the Loeg Ningloron and he is mortally terrified. Two days past he was confronted by Gwaihir the Windlord who beseeched him to deliver a message. Four dozen Yrch have crossed Anduin and seek to wreck havoc to the south. This warning was to be delivered to Helluin and Galadhon in Suꝺriborg. Alas, Idnatzio's wits have fled and he is no longer reliable. I deem this task now passes to ye."
The four Elves stared at the Wizard in astonishment. The commander sputtered at having the Eagle's errand thrust upon him and his company. They had a patrol and orders from their king.
"But my lord, Suꝺriborg was burnt to the ground a season past," the elleth said. "I and five others stood amidst the ruins not two days after seeing the smoke rising. We saw none."
Aiwendil regarded her with head cocked and a critical glance. Finally, he said, "Pray share thy memories with me," and gazed into her eyes. She could but nod 'aye' and stare back.
To the Ithron, the elleth presented her memories of the small detail that had marched forty miles southwest from the Greenwood after seeing the rising column of smoke. At first, they went with haste, sensing only a single homestead that they reckoned their path would pass by many miles to the west once they were a score miles south. 'Twas the home of a mortal family of settlers and they had no business with such folk.
As they went, their mood grew increasingly grim and their wrath increasingly hot. Eager they were to redress, even in a symbolic way, the attack they had repelled six score years aforetime when their Woodland Realm had been assailed by Yrch from Gundabad. The murder of Queen Inthuiril during that fighting had been the focus of their hatred, the loss that goaded them forward in hopes of vengeance. Aiwendil clearly felt the elleth's mood and that 'twas shared with each of the five other members who went to Suꝺriborg.
Now on their second day they came in stealth to the fortress of the Northmen and found it burnt to the ground. 'Naught had been left standing; not the palisade, not a house, shop, stable, or even a sheep fold. They found only desolation and the scent of smoke. 'Twas so somber a scene that their mood shifted as the sun sank into the west.
The realization came upon them that they would find 'naught there to assuage their rage, and none upon whom to exact their revenge. Slowly, they became aware that for all the years since the war, they had been obsessed with the hope of redressing their losses through the slaughter of their foes, and that even success in that quest would achieve 'naught. The lives lost might be avenged in kind, but they would ne'er be recovered and only the count of the slain would grow. Ten thousand deaths would not bring surcease of their sorrow. Depressed by the hopelessness of their quest, they had hung their heads and taken their leave.
The vision ended and the elleth felt sorrowful again at the recitation of the experience. The Ithron blinked and then he began to laugh, deep, heartfelt, and filled with genuine mirth. She stared at him, convinced again of his de-mentation. 'Twas long ere he recovered himself.
"My lord…?" she asked, wholly baffled by his reaction. "We found no cause for joy in that place. The old fortress was destroyed and our foes gone beyond the reach of our bows."
Aiwendil looked at her carefully and nodded to himself. She believed all she had been shown.
"Ye found no foes in Nýr Vera," he said with certainty, "and yet ye were not alone. Thou and thy five companions were dissuaded from lingering. I reckon 'twas the best outcome possible."
At that declaration, she and her companions could only stare at the Wizard. Incomprehension was writ all o'er their faces and the Maia realized that they were unaccustomed to the wiles of those who had come from the West. 'Twas a stark reminder of what the Tawarwaith who had abandoned the Westward March of old had missed. He was moved to offer compassion and explanations, for they too were as creatures begat of the One.
"Suꝺriborg was the name given to the fortress of Nýr Vera and the farm Norðr-vestandóttir Bý after they were combined sometime 'round a century past. 'Twas at first the name of the noble house of Norðr-vestandóttir, founder and mistress of the farm, and her husband, Ivar the Hunter. Thou saw the ruins of Nýr Vera. Thou saw not Norðr-vestandóttir Bý that lies two miles south.
Because ye came with hopes of battle and she would not needlessly become a Kinslayer again, Helluin compelled ye hence using a Song of Power, an enchantment learnt in Aman. When thou go again to deliver Gwaihir's message, go in peace and thou shalt be accepted."
"My lord, this is beyond belief," the commander said, "but I must report the message of the swan to my king. Perhaps he shall deem it proper to send aid to Suꝺriborg."
Aiwendil nodded to the commander, thinking, Helluin needs no aid to destroy four dozen Yrch.
"I deem thy course proper, but thy king shall make his own decision. He knows Helluin and understands her," he said, "yet the Eagle's warning should be conveyed at once." He looked to the elleth who had stood in the ruins of Nýr Vera and said, "As thou hast aforetime traveled thither, I deem it falls to thee to go at once to Norðr-vestandóttir Bý. Spare not a moment. Whether or not thou remain for the battle, Helluin shall decide."
A glance to her commander was met with a nod giving her leave, for who was he to gainsay the wisdom of a Wizard?
"Very well, I shall set out at once," she said. Meaning that literally, she offered the Wizard a bow, saluted her commander, and then jogged away towards the verge of the forest. 'Twas 22 Lothron and Gwaihir's message was now two days old.
The remaining three Elves prepared to rejoin their company and then make their way to the king's halls. But one further consideration the commander voiced.
"Lord, should we take with us the mad swan?"
"I…" Aiwendil began, but then fell silent as he sought for Idnatzio. He saw the swan nowhere. "Huh, I should have sworn he was right here," he muttered, "pray aid me in a search. Surely, he hath not strayed far. He is not himself and should not wander in the forest unattended."
They sought for Idnatzio 'til nightfall, calling out his name as they walked 'neath the trees, but they were confounded and failed to discover his trail. 'Twas as if he had vanished from Arda. By then, the Ithron was convinced that he had indeed strayed far and the Elves were convinced that they were wasting their time. They had been unable to make any sense of his babbling and 'twas unlikely their king would fare any better. In any case, they knew his message. With words of thanks to the Wizard, they departed Rhosgobel and were soon glad to breathe fresher air.
Now Aiwendil continued to search for Idnatzio, for he hoped to heal him of his torment, but he ne'er found the mad swan. After some days, during which he discovered no trace of the creature, he was forced to attend to other matters and ne'er learnt 'aught of his fate. All he could hope was that the unfortunate fellow had taken wing and returned to the Loeg Ningloron.
Indeed Idnatzio had not returned to the Loeg Ningloron, or to Nanduhirion, or Suꝺriborg. As the Ithron had suspected, he had not strayed far. After barely wandering from the clearing, he was snatched up by a large owl and spirited away, leaving no trail and none the wiser. Well away from Rhosgobel, Idnatzio's life ended when he was torn to shreds in a nest high in a hollow tree, and there fed piece by piece to the trio of owlets growing ready to fledge.
Now the commander and the two ellyn had lost half a day whilst aiding Aiwendil in searching for Idnatzio. Rather than rejoining his company on the third day, 'twas in the morn of the fourth day when the commander and the two ellyn finally returned. Then, after offering tidings and explanations, they took their way northeast to the Halls of Thranduil, and there a report was made to the king. This came to pass five days after leaving Rhosgobel, with the commander begging an audience to present his peculiar findings and Thranduil being curious to hear them. The young officer came before his lord in a small, informal meeting room with the prince in attendance for the sake of his instruction as the king's heir.
"Commander, 'tis said thou bear unusual tidings," Thranduil said, "pray share what thou hast learnt."
So with awkward and self-conscious words, the young officer reported on all his company had done of late, and his tale held the king and the prince's attention 'til he had said his rede in full. He bowed and stood awaiting such questions or orders as might be forthcoming.
"Eleven days it hath been since thou found the swan Idnatzio," the king calculated, "and a march of three hundred thirty miles lies 'twixt these halls and Suꝺriborg. None I send thither could reach Norðr-vestandóttir Bý ere a fortnight passed. By then, twenty-five days would have come and gone since Lord Gwaihir dispatched his message. We shall send forth no aid."
Both the prince and the commander looked sharply to their king. He nodded, understanding their reaction.
"Faithless it may seem, abandoning two to stand against four dozens, yet I fear not for the outcome," Thranduil told them. "Helluin shall destroy them all."
The king had spoken with such certainty that both felt a shiver. Now they looked to him with questions. Finally, he sighed and offered them a short explanation.
"'Twas ere thy time, Commander, yet in 1002, Helluin delivered our late queen from the Sorcerer of Dol Guldur," Thranduil said softly. "Upon her return, my beloved Inthuiril attested that Helluin slew 'nigh two hundreds in a single day's rampage. Four dozen Yrch stand not a chance against her. I wager thy messenger shall return with tidings of awe."
The commander bowed and withdrew, astonished at what he had heard. In the meeting room, Prince Legolas sought to question his father further about Helluin having once saved his mother, but Thranduil had expended his patience for reminiscing o'er such painful memories.
"She is called the Mórgolodh," was all he would say ere dismissing his son and calling for a glass of wine.
Now 'twixt Rhosgobel and Suꝺriborg there lay one hundred twenty miles. Having been tasked by the Ithron to deliver the Great Eagle's message, the elleth ran down the north-south road as one pursued by a dragon. Not only would she have a second chance to confront her enemies, but she was also vexed at having been manipulated by the Golodh's song and looked forward to confronting her as well. She arrived in Suꝺriborg 'round noon on 26 Lothron, six days after Gwaihir had sent poor Idnatzio hence.
During the nights, the Yrch had followed a stream leading east from the bank of Anduin. 'Twas natural enough, for they had crossed the river on rafts hastily built in the Loeg Ningloron, just as had Konshati and his five dozens in Cerveth of 1902, and the nameless band of two dozen that had preceded them in early Lothron of 1871. Of those companies, they had heard no tales, for those Yrch had fled the Ghâshgûl and died one and all 'nigh Nýr Vera. 'Twas the coincidence of geography that had led them hence, having crossed Anduin from the iris marshes of the Gladden Fields, just like those who had come aforetime.
Now on the third night, that being the night of 23 Lothron, the Yrch came 'nigh the burnt ruins of Nýr Vera. As the hated sun threatened its brightness on the eastern horizon, they gazed out from the shadows of the trees to the northwest and surveyed the desolation. Ere they retreated back into the cover of shade to wait out the day, they reveled in the evidence of destruction, but also cursed at the lack of victims. There would be no sport, no feasting, and no spoils to be had here.
"Looks like someone had their fun," said Dâghaûrz¹, the self-promoted leader who had cut his sleeping captain's throat to advance his position. He had sealed the allegiance of his company by sharing his predecessor's meat. "We wait out the filthy yellow-face and then march east. There must be fun and profit to be had in this land." ¹(Dâghaûrz, Child Eater = dâg(child) + ha(eat) + -ûrz(adj on n suff, eater) Orkish)
Several who stood 'nigh nodded in agreement. They were all eager to set up their own lair at a safe remove from the mountains where their kind had repeatedly been conscripted for armies that ended up defeated and slaughtered. Forty-five years had passed since the terrifying Nazgûl had last been seen, and ere the Witch King came to the north again, they wagered their continued survival depended on going east, for the lands of Eriador to the west were fraught with horrors. In crossing Anduin, they felt they had only to gain; new lands and new victims lay ahead for the taking, or so Dâghaûrz had assured them, and none of them knew 'aught to gainsay him. Besides, he would kill and eat them o'er any expression of dissent. That was typical for new leaders establishing their control. This they all understood. In a few months, if things did not go well, perhaps the grumbling would start and a knife would be thrust into his gizzard, for like e'eryone else, a leader needed to sleep.
They spent the day of 24 Lothron hidden 'neath the shade of the woods, wrapped in their cloaks to better hide from the sunlight. They hunkered down in ditches they had covered with branches, in the shade 'neath fallen trunks, and amidst thick brambles where the shadows lay deepest, and there they fell into troubled sleep that eventually grew peaceful as the day passed.
With sunset, Dâghaûrz sent his most favored henchmen to roust the troops. They found a dozen lying dead 'neath their cloaks, throats slashed, hearts gouged, eyes stabbed, or necks snapped.
"Huh, I thought you boys got along better than that," Dâghaûrz said in surprise. "Looks like we'll be feasting after all!"
The living cheered and set to chopping wood for a bonfire. Others commenced to butchery, or the preparation of spits. Soon enough they were roasting body parts and gleefully gorging on flesh. Occupied thus and glutted to sloth after, they spent that night without advancing further and their invasion was delayed a day.
As a precaution against further murders decimating his company, Dâghaûrz commanded that all the survivors pass the day of the 25th in a tight group, each sleeping through the day within touching distance of another. Despite his precautions, four more died and the leader's patience grew thin as evening revealed the newest corpses. Reduced now to thirty-two, he demanded that all those still living work out their rivalries ere they marched.
A few duels were fought to resolve some longstanding animosities and a couple new ones as well. Orcs were seldom truly friendly with other Orcs. Another four fell and the night of the 25th was spent like the last, feasting on the fallen. The count of casualties had reached twenty, but at least the surviving twenty-eight were well fed.
From the copse of trees 'nigh the stream on the far side of Nýr Vera, Helluin and Galadhon chuckled as they watched the distant flames. They wrinkled their noses at the traces of acrid smoke that drifted o'er the burnt fortress from the roasting of Yrch by Yrch, but neither could think of a more fitting end to their enemies. Better still, the invaders had been stalled in their advance for two full days and nights as their numbers dwindled.
Now the 26th dawned and the Yrch again went to hide from the daylight. Dâghaûrz assumed that any lingering hostilities amongst the members of his company had been settled, and so he prescribed no special precautions. He dozed off as one amongst twenty-eight and expected to wake as one amongst twenty-eight. By noon, he was fast asleep.
'Twas 'round noon that the elleth of Greenwood arrived at Nýr Vera. Having known from aforetime whither it lay, she had planned to come first to the burnt fortress and then make her way south two miles to find Norðr-vestandóttir Bý. She just hoped that the odd Ithron's directions were reliable. When she arrived, the ash and blackened remains of wood were just as she recalled them. She saw no tracks and marked none lingering in that place. Yet very faintly from the northwest, she heard what she would have sworn was singing.
The elleth began to make her way in that direction and saw that her own footprints alone disturbed the soil. She had not even reached where the palisade had stood ere a great drowsiness o'ertook her and she well 'nigh nodded off upright. Horrified, she scrambled backward, away from the wood that lay now but a furlong away. Finally, when she had retreated to the center of what had been the settlement, she felt her wits restored. Believing she understood what was happening, she remained silent and stood stock-still, waiting.
An hour passed, and then a second. The faint strains of the song ceased. Finally, her patience was rewarded and she saw two figures moving out of the wood. They walked south 'round the verge of the burnt land so as not to leave any tracks on the barren ground. There came an elleth, clad in black armor 'neath a cloak of mixed greens, and an ellon in a green surcoat and cloak o'er silver mail. They were both fully armed, but walked at ease and it seemed as though no threat lingered 'nigh.
Judging it safe from their comportment, she waved and called out to them, saying, "If thou art Helluin, I have urgent tidings for thee from Gwaihir!"
Immediately the ellon jerked 'round to pinpoint her, but the elleth cast her eyes back to the wood. She traded glances with her companion and then both broke into a flat out run, heading straight for her. As they crossed into the desolation of Nýr Vera, she marked the expression of intense irritation on Helluin's face and the look of worry on his. A moment later, a company of Yrch burst from the tree line, furious enough to charge against their fleeing foes in broad daylight. She counted twenty.
The elleth realized her mistake in a moment and was almost nauseous for the glaring error she had made. She had revealed the two she had come to warn and given up their presence to a larger force of foes. Had she shot them with arrows, the situation would have been scarcely less dire. So she did the only thing she could. She drew an arrow and nocked it on the string of her bow, and then she picked a target and fired on the Orch closest to them.
At almost a hundred yards and with a forty-two pound bow against a charging target, her shot would have to be superb to prove immediately lethal, but even a less deadly shot would slow a foe or strike him out of the combat. She sent the arrow to flight in a low ballistic trajectory and watched the shaft embed itself in the Orc's left shoulder. His gait wavered slightly on impact and she was rewarded with a loud bellow of pain. Then as she watched, the Orch halted, took his left hand and slammed it down o'er the fletched end of her arrow, driving it straight through his own shoulder. Clumsily, he reached behind and wrenched the arrow out of his back, then cast it aside and resumed his charge. His right arm that wielded his sword was unharmed. She could not but nock another arrow and seek for the most advantageous target.
She had fired again with a similar result when she saw Helluin and Galadhon exchange a glance and a nod. They were sixty yards into the barren land that had been Nýr Vera and the Yrch were trailing them by about thirty yards. 'Twas at that time that they stopped and turned upon their enemies.
Helluin had her bow in her hand and an arrow on the string in the blink of an eye. She drew, chose a target, and loosed. The arrow leapt from the bow and crossed the distance to her foe in a blink. It slammed into an Orch's forehead, tossing his body backwards into the air. But the steel Númenórean war bow had so much power that the arrow passed straight through the Orc's skull and struck another who followed, burying half its length in his chest. He sank to his knees and then keeled o'er on his side. A second arrow passed through the chests of two Yrch, killing both. The Noldo got off a third shot ere the enemy closed. That arrow too laid low a pair of foes, one taken through the neck and the second in the face. Then Helluin dropped her bow and drew Anguirél and the Sarchram.
Side by side Galadhon and Helluin stood awaiting the fourteen remaining Yrch. He bore a single-handed sword and a war club embossed with vicious steel studs. The elleth watched in excruciating guilt as the company of enemies closed on the two Elvish warriors, knowing she had caused this battle. Her consuming hatred of her foes was forgotten.
She was still forty yards from the two, but soon the Orcs would be within her best range. To increase her chance of aiding the Noldor, she charged forward a dozen yards to close some of the distance. The Yrch were almost upon them and then she had to stop and stare, for it seemed that the two were glowing!
The Yrch came 'nigh the two Elves and for a moment, they truly believed they would easily slay them, daylight be damned. They moved to attack, but then the She-Elf cried out and her words froze their blood.
"Ghâsh gijak-ishi!" Helluin shouted. "Vrasulûk!"
Fourteen Yrch stood momentarily paralyzed in fear and Helluin burst into a blinding ril of Light. Flames of blue fire burst from her eyes. Beside her, Galadhon glowed with the Light of Aman and he whipped his left arm out to crush the skull of the Orch standing nearest to him with a savage blow of his club. The warrior of Gondolin's House of the Tree continued with the momentum of his swing, spinning in a clockwise circle to hew the head from another foe with a stroke of his sword. He continued to advance and they continued to fall. Soon, he was laughing as he slew.
After petrifying the Yrch with a battle cry they knew from decades of nightmares and then blinding them with her flaring of Light, Helluin strode against her foes. The Black Sword cried out, rejoicing in the bloodshed and demanding more, whilst the Sarchram cursed their enemies and taunted them with threats of the Void. Half a dozen fell ere they recovered sufficient fear to drive them into motion. Then, they tried to flee, for they would not abide the face of the Ghâshgûl in combat. As they turned their backs, Helluin cast the Sarchram after them and the bloodthirsty Ring blade cut them down, ricocheting from one to another with sentient lust of slaughter.
The resolution came swiftly. Helluin and Galadhon stood surveying the fallen, for none of their foes lived. They traded smiles, and barely needed to catch their breath. The Noldor cleaned their weapons, and then Helluin stalked off the rip her arrows from the carcasses she had shot. And when all that was done, they turned cold eyes upon the elleth of Greenwood who had cut short their sport, for they had hoped to induce the Yrch to kill and eat each other rather than engage in open battle.
To Be Continued