In An Age Before – Part 265
Chapter One hundred fifty-eight
The Ghost of Sîr Ninglor – The Third Age of the Sun
Now following her defeat of Throqûrz-foshânu's company, Helluin, Sivimaseldo, Ngandáro, Arinya, Ránehen, Vorsaira, Erinítaite, Marhrondo, and Lirulin returned to Norðr-vestandóttir Bý, arriving on 17 Cerveth of 2465. For years thereafter, the Noldo continued to train the Tatyar. She instructed them in the warcraft and woodscraft of the Laiquendi, though she oft times introduced her lessons without mentioning that kindred's name.
Slowly, she sought to educate them in the stealth of the Green Elves of Eriador, though by dwelling on a farm, they were not cleaving to that peoples' wisdom of wandering and shunning any permanent abode. Still, with time they did become e'er more difficult for others to detect and more confident in their abilities to remain unseen and unheard. Perhaps it helped that they had ne'er been city dwellers. They had ne'er been inculcated with the habits of urban living, but for whate'er reason, they took to the ways of Beinvír's people more easily than most.
At the same time, Helluin trained them in such crafts as were practiced on the farm. Tillage and animal husbandry were both foreign to the Laiquendi, even though the Green Elves understood the olvar and kelvar on a level unimagined by mortal farmers and herders. Likewise, carpentry and cabinet-making, the crafting of pottery, the grinding of grist, and the forging of metals were seldom practiced by Beinvír's wandering kindred. Helluin's company of fourteen Avari learnt all these, building on whate'er familiarity they had gained during their long lives. They also developed some personal crafts that even Helluin did not practice.
Ngandáro, had proved a gifted musician, and though far from the caliber of Tinfang, Maglor, or Daeron, was more creative in Helluin's opinion than Arandil of the Vanyar who had once been her lover in Tirion. As his name suggested, Ngandáro was primarily a harpist and singer, as was Maglor. Yet unlike Maglor, he seemed possessed of endless inspirations for creating new stringed instruments as well as traditional hand harps. Using the woodworking capacity of the farm, he built hand plucked instruments in several sizes, each with multiple strings capable of playing four octaves by fretting to shorten their vibrating lengths against a wooden fret board. The sound was amplified by the resonation of a hollow body to which the fret board attached.
Helluin was more surprised when the e'er optimistic Arinya partnered with the e'er serious Lirulin and the e'er adventurous Marhrondo to build a watertight wooden tub with a rotating central shaft that bore three narrow fins. It had a spigot at the bottom for emptying and a couple of pulleys with drive belts attached to an axle spun by a waterwheel to turn the shaft. The pulleys rotated a half-toothed gear that moved the shaft a half-rotation ere disengaging so that a spring could return the shaft to its starting position. Water, soap and dirty clothes went in and power was applied. The shaft spun back and forth. The fins agitated the water and clothes 'til after a half-hour, the water was drained and clean clothes were taken out, to be hung on a line to dry. The Noldo was truly astonished by the ingenuity of this invention, deeming it a practical creation to rival 'aught devised by the Wise. Later, after Nieninque complained of a rash from the soap residue, a brief rinse cycle was added and all was well after.
'Twas the e'er excitable and impatient Sivimaseldo who built a frame to hold a pair of hand-cranked rollers. These squeezed excess water from the garments to hasten their drying whilst saving the labor of hand wringing.
Castalda and Ránehen managed to produce wine from the abundant berries, apples, and honey. Following some peculiar logic, Vorsaira contrived a heated vessel that evaporated and condensed the alcohol content out of their brews into a vastly more potent beverage. Being highly volatile externally as well as internally, this fluid found equal value as a lamp and stove fuel as well as a drink. Even Helluin could see the immense value of being able to cook food without the time, smoke, or tell tale brightness of a campfire. A cold camp need no longer be truly cold and such stoves left no evidence of a cook fire.
This invention truly came into its own when they discovered that grain as well as fruit could be fermented to create their new fuel. They had vast quantities of surplus wheat, rye, and oats available, and they felt less guilty about ruining good wine.
The years 'twixt 2465 and 2480 were a time of immense innovation on the farm. During the winter of 2469-2470, Helluin resolved to travel to Lothlórien and then Imladris to introduce their creations to Artanis and the Peredhel, knowing the latter would be elated to receive the new lore. The Noldo was confident that the farm would be well tended in her absence and had no worries about the irritability of the chickens. She took her leave of Norðr-vestandóttir Bý in mid-Gwaeron, hoping to avoid the spring flooding of Anduin.
Helluin found no problems at the Old Ford. Anduin's water level was still low enough that the crossing proved unchallenging to Dugr. The next day, they turned south on the Dwarf Road 'til they came to the path leading away from the broken bridge that had once spanned Sîr Ninglor. Another couple days they spent riding east to the river and then south on a shifting path through the iris marshes where slender new shoots were pushing up from the sodden soil. 'Twas as they turned south that Helluin had paused, for a sensation of unease had come upon her. She searched their surroundings with care but saw 'naught to cause distress.
If 'aught distinguished the landscape, 'twas a slope carved out of the riverbank that told of a boat ramp…a very small boat ramp indeed, barely large enough to launch a rowboat of Men. There were no settlements of fisher folk 'nigh, for she saw no smoke risen from chimneys, nor any road with footprints or wagon ruts. She saw no boats, either pulled up on the bank, or in the water. There were also no tracks in the adjacent mud. The Noldo felt it probable that this particular ramp was only infrequently used; being most likely further east than the local Stoors were wont to come. That folk preferred the isolation in the deeper reaches of the swamplands, places that Men distrusted, Yrch disdained, and Elves had no reason to come.
Still, that twinge of foreboding had lingered apace. Though Helluin marked 'naught to give cause for her apprehensiveness, she was convinced that some evil lurked 'nigh. After another careful perusal, during which she found no cause for alarm, she sighed and turned Dugr back to the path.
Now after a fortnight of comfortable travel, Helluin rode Dugr 'neath the mellyrn and was met by marchwardens of the northern border, a company of a dozen led by the familiar Rúmil and his brother Orophin. They were not at all surprised by her arrival.
"Mae govannen, Mórgolodh," said Rúmil, "thou art expected in Caras Galadhon."
"Suilaid nín, Rúmil," Helluin replied, dipping her head to him and then to his brother, "Orophin, 'tis good to see ye both. So, the lady has foreseen my arrival?"
"Nay, we were informed by thine old friend the Oracle Horse," Orophin revealed with a smile.
To Rúmil and Orophin she simply nodded. Helluin had been astonished enough to meet him again in 2463 when she had come to Lothlórien ere teleporting to Imladris with Galadriel for the White Council. Dugr had found that encounter astonishing, though little more so than seeing Helluin and Galadriel vanishing into thin air. The Noldo was less surprised to find Álfrhestr still alive now, only seven years later.
As the marchwardens were on duty afoot and Helluin was mounted, they bid her farewell and she continued alone towards Caras Galadhon. She and Dugr arrived at the city of the Galadhrim the next afternoon and found Álfrhestr in his accustomed place, cropping the tender spring grass on the slope outside the fosse 'nigh the gate.
"Álfrhestr, 'tis good to see thee again," Helluin said to him as she dismounted and the horses greeted each other by touching noses.
Suilaid nín, O Helluin, he said, mae govannen, Dugr.
Suilaid nín, Álfrhestr. How have you been, old friend? Helluin asked. Thou still seem astonishingly well preserved.
He appeared well enough, especially for his age, but there was a dulling of his eyes as with some great weariness. Enriched long ago, he had outlived all his kin and all of his friends save those who were Elves. Six Chieftains of the North, ten Stewards, two Kings of Gondor, and seven Princes of Dol Amroth had passed since he had ridden down to the South Kingdom with Lainiel and Annuihír in 2003. Now it seemed to Helluin that there was a translucence to his being, as though he were no longer wholly a part of this world.
The warhorse sighed. I am old, Helluin, even if I do not look it. Yet I am beginning to feel it in my heart of hearts. Well preserved indeed, he snorted. Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if thou know what I mean; like too few oats sprinkled amidst too much hay. That cannot be right. I need a change, or something*. He shook his head in resignation, though in resignation to what, even he was not sure.
Nay, 'tis not right to feel thus, Helluin agreed. None of us knew then what living so far beyond the nature of thy kind might bring. Thy spirit has abode upon the Hither Shores far longer than any mortal horse. Perhaps as do the Elves, thou feel the Fading, the sapping of the hröa and the tiring of the fëa that are also the bane of my people.
Perhaps so, Helluin, and if so, what then? he asked. I am already come to a place wherein the preservation of the spirit and all things dear to memory are enhanced. I know of no place that can assuage my own Fading, nor turn back the days of my heart.
Helluin nodded to him in understanding. All things in Middle Earth were doomed to fade and all of mortal kinds were doomed to pass. The long years of Álfrhestr's life were proving a mixed blessing, even as they were to the Elves. She felt both happy and sorry for him.
It may be that abiding here in Lothlórien has contributed to thy longevity. Were thou of the Elder Kindred, I would say that passage into the West would bring thee surcease and healing, but I know not if thy spirit shall come to the Halls of Mandos. Some amongst the Wise hold that there are separate mansions in which the spirits of Dwarves and Men are gathered to await the Second Song. Being amongst the living, I was forbidden entry to Námo's halls even when I abode in Aman, and so I know not the truth of such lore. Still, I hope 'tis so and that there are mansions set aside for the noble spirits of other kindreds.
Álfrhestr thought a while on what the Noldo had said and then nodded. Helluin's words could neither be proven nor refuted, even by one who had dwelt in the Blessed West. Yet they offered hope, and in dark times, hope needed to be taken on faith, for it alone offered a shield against despair. The ancient horse realized that faith in a possible future conferred an option to oppose the hopelessness of approaching the e'erlasting darkness of 'not being'. He could not remember a time when he had 'not been', and even after all his years of life, still he wanted to 'be'.
I shall not despair, for though 'naught is promised, I would rather hope for something better that lies beyond this world, he said. Such a possibility is a comfort to my heart and I thank thee, Helluin. Ahhh, the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien approach.
With Helluin, Dugr, and Álfrhestr offered the sovereigns bows as they drew 'nigh. Celeborn and Galadriel returned their obeisance with dips of their heads.
"Welcome, Helluin, 'tis good to see thee again, dear friend," said Galadriel with a smile.
"'Tis good to find thee safe, meldis nín," Celeborn added.
"I thank ye for your welcome and greet ye with happiness at finding ye well and your realm at peace," Helluin replied. "I come with tidings good and bad."
Celeborn raised a brow in question, but his wife only nodded and said, "Let us adjourn to the talan, for there are privy matters of which I would speak."
That sounded a bit ominous to Helluin, but she nodded, for the memories of the Yrch she would prefer to proffer only to their ears. Agreed, the trio wound their way along a path amongst the trees 'til they came to the tallest of the mellyrn and there ascended the ladder to the Royal Talan. Celeborn dismissed the guards and they took seats with a view looking east, out o'er Caras Galadhon and the forest that lay 'twixt the city and the river Anduin.
Then Helluin spoke of the enhancement of the Yrch that she had first seen in 2065 and the memories that explained how it had come to pass.
"He is breeding Orcs with fallen Men of Atalantë," Galadriel whispered in shock and loathing.
"Aye, and he hath been doing so for many years, I wager," Helluin said, "and there is at least one other of the Black Númenóreans serving him as herald."
She had shared her memories of what she had gleaned by looking into the minds of the two Orcs, in 2464 and 2465. The hidden memories of those Yrch had caused her hosts to recoil in disgust.
"No evil doth he shy to encompass," Celeborn had ground out, "and may all the Valar curse his name. We had dared hope the last of the King's Men lay slain after Telumehtar took Umbar in 1810." Helluin could only shrug, knowing that Umbar had been but one of their strongholds.
"If 'aught can be counted a blessing, 'tis that thus far, only those coming from Dol Guldur seem thus enhanced," Helluin said. "I wager those in the Hithaeglir, Mordor, and Minas Morgul are still as were those we have fought aforetime. I saw only one Man in the breeding hall, and even for Sauron, replacing all of his slaves shall take centuries. I reckon his progress is far from finding its end. What I wonder most is whither this abomination is conducted. I have seen Dol Guldur, Minas Ithil, and the Barad-dûr long ago and recognized none of them from the Orc's memory."
"In council, Mithrandir wondered whither Sauron fled after ye drove him from Dol Guldur," Galadriel recalled, "and we had no answer then. Alas, we have no greater knowledge now."
To this, both Helluin and Celeborn nodded in reluctant agreement. Sauron was committing great blasphemies against the One and thus far, he had remained hidden from the Wise. 'Twas irksome, yet they could see 'naught that they could do to amend it.
Thereafter, they turned to other matters. Helluin revealed the alcohol stove and told of the process for its creation as she heated water to brew them tea. They found great wonder in the clean burning fluid and understood the utility of the invention, though in the forest they had no sufficient crops from which to refine such fuel. The dark Noldo also spoke of Ngandáro's musical instruments and the garment cleaning device and wringer that caused them to scratch their heads. Eventually, she had spoken of all her revelations, yet Galadriel had one further concern to share.
"For several years now I have felt the shadow of some evil to the north. 'Tis not Sauron, nor one of his Nine, and thus far, this foe I cannot see. I know not what to make of it. No tidings of battle have come for it spreads not, and yet faintly, it calls to me and perhaps to others as well." The Lady of the Golden Wood shook her head in consternation for she was confounded.
"Coming hither, I felt a foreboding of evil as I crossed into the Loeg Ningloron," Helluin said, "yet amongst the eyots and channels I marked 'naught. Perhaps 'tis some spirit, restless in spring and plaintively manifesting its discontent?"
"Perhaps," Galadriel mused, though she sounded unconvinced. "Still, I bid thee ware as thou ride back north, meldis nín."
"I shall be so, meldis nín, and I shall hope for the continued safety of thy realm. I intend to go o'er the Hithaeglir to Imladris to take counsel with thy son-in-law ere I turn for home," Helluin said. "I expect to arrive in a fortnight and perhaps I shall learn more along the way. Thou art welcome to join us in thought."
Galadriel nodded and said, "Perhaps I shall do so, yet I also hope that thy path crosses not with this evil and thou learns no more of it."
"Go in peace and with our hopes for safe travels, my friend," Celeborn added.
Helluin took her leave of the Golden Wood and rode Dugr north up the long familiar Dwarf Road. She passed from the verge of the forest and the miles fled 'neath the warhorse's hooves. On their second day, the two arms of Fanuidhol lay behind them, and after two more, the river Ninglor lay close ahead. Rather than turning onto the established path leading east to the trail through the Loeg Ningloron, Helluin continued to ride for another half-league 'til she reached the southern bank. This she followed slowly as it made its way towards its swampy juncture with Anduin, and all along that way, she cast her senses towards the increasing breadth of marshland, hoping to espy some habitation of the Periannath.
Now during her first day's ride she marked 'naught and Helluin reckoned the river still too swift for the watercraft of the Stoors to comfortably navigate. Their settlements and fishing villages lay further east where Ninglor broadened and its current became divided into myriad shifting channels, wherein the water ran lazy and fish schooled in shadowy shallows.
On her second day following the bank, she did mark faint columns of smoke rising amidst the delta. There was 'naught to see, but this was hardly any surprise, knowing the fugitive nature of that wee and retiring folk. Any clump of dried reeds might have been a roof, and the Noldo wagered that none would be so close to the bank as to be reachable afoot. She would not even try to approach on Dugr, for walking blindly into the fen would only invite death whilst mired in mud, or sinking into quicksand. Instead, she hoped to see some of the Halflings upon the water.
Alas, this did not come to pass, and most likely, the Stoors were well aware of her and chose to avoid her presence. They would not reappear 'til she had gone. The Halflings had no business with her and could conceive of no business she might have with them, and so Helluin continued on unwelcomed, an outlandish outsider surreptitiously watched by many eyes.
They had had problems of their own of late with one who had suddenly vanished and another who had become a miscreant, offending many with his snooping and petty thievery. Some had endured or pitied him at first, believing his faults to be a twisted expression of his sorrow at the loss of his close friend, but after seven years, even they had lost their sympathy and patience. Now, the Stoors of Ninglor had no wish to compound their difficulties by engaging with a stranger, especially one so obviously warlike.
After two days, Helluin rejoined the path leading through the Loeg Ningloron. She continued at a slow pace, and as night fell, found an eyot with solid ground large and stable enough to support Dugr for the night. She cooked a small meal o'er her stove, then settled on her ground cloth of paint skins and viewed the stars. To those ignorant of the ways of Elves, she might have appeared to be asleep, reclining unmoving, and breathing only slowly, yet her eyes were open and at a low level, she was aware of all 'round her.
The hours of darkness passed in peace with the rustle of reeds in the breeze and the whisper of lapping water. The sounds of some small animals foraging amongst the new shoots and dried stems added to the soft life of the night. Dugr stood breathing softly as he dozed whilst standing upright. Just ere midnight, Helluin slowly became aware of a presence and the feeling of veiled evil came upon her again, akin to, but stronger now than what she had felt as she rode south to Lothlórien. Without moving, she abandoned the sky and sharpened her senses. Through slitted eyes she kept watch, for she marked the stealthy advance of small feet.
So, one of the Periannath comes 'nigh, she thought, like and yet unlike those known to me aforetime, for ne'er have I felt this aura of Darkness upon one of that kindred. It bodes ill.
Closer and closer the source of that sensation came, yet Helluin marked none even when the feeling grew so intense that she thought she could swiftly reach out and snatch the interloper. The feeling raised the hair on the back of her neck and made her skin crawl, for now the perception of evil was intense. Still, she saw 'naught, and then she felt a shift in the Sarchram. In her mind came a cry from that portion of her own fëa with which she had empowered the weapon.
Unhand me, Dark One! To the Void I shall send thee, accursed spirit!
Still reclining unmoving, Helluin's eyes blazed with blue battle fire. Then the Light of the Two Trees exploded from her, blinding as a bolt of lightning, to scorch the reeds standing 'nigh. She thought she heard a cry of pain, instantly cut short, and then a splash as something leapt into the channel surrounding the eyot. The sensation of evil subsided, but not ere she heard a grating whisper make an offer that left her feeling sullied.
As High Queen o'er Arda I would make thee, she heard at the edge of her mind.
Then the voice of temptation and the sensation of evil were gone as steam rose from the surrounding mud. Only the stillness of the night and the sounds of water and breeze remained, along with the scent of burnt reeds. Helluin sat up and laid her hand on the Sarchram, just to assure herself that 'twas still in its place on her belt. Carefully, she stared in all directions, but whate'er had approached her was gone now without a trace. Dugr, his forelock and eyelashes lightly singed had awakened, looked at her in question, and then dozed back off. She remained upright the rest of the night, pondering what had come 'nigh.
A week later, Helluin rode down from the High Pass and into the valley of Imladris. She had made great haste northward upon leaving the swamp. After stabling Dugr, she joined the Peredhel in his study. She found the Lady Artanis already waiting there.
Whilst Elrond offered her a goblet of wine, Galadriel examined her carefully 'til Helluin finally tired of the intensity of her scrutiny, and staring back at her, asked, "What?"
"Thankfully, thou seem thy grumpy self," the princess said, "and I had feared thou would not."
"Who else would I be?" Helluin asked as she cocked her head, confused.
"I had hoped against hope that thou would not seem a budding High Queen o'er Arda with the haughty demeanor to match," Galadriel said, and Helluin choked on a mouthful of wine.
"I thought I heard those same words made in offer by a dark ghost in the Loeg Ningloron," she said after recovering her breath. "Was it thee that I heard?"
"Nay, 'twas not my voice, but to my ears came an offer from the north, perhaps the same offer thou heard, 'As High Queen o'er Arda I would make thee', it said."
"The words were indeed the same," Helluin agreed, then quaffed the remaining wine in her goblet and held it out to Elrond for a refill. "How can this be?"
"Speak to me of how those words came to thee, Helluin," Galadriel asked, "for I saw 'naught."
Helluin thought back on the mysterious visitation she had repelled in the swamp, for little else had she pondered in the days since. 'Twas the only thing unknown that she had encountered.
"When I came 'nigh Sîr Ninglor, I abandoned the path and rode at a walk along the bank, hoping to mark the presence of the Periannath and perchance learn more of the evil I had felt aforetime, and that thou also sensed in Lothlórien. Alas, that folk were too wary and I saw none. So thereafter, I took my way on the path through the Loeg Ningloron and stopped for the night upon a small eyot. There I supped and then lay in repose, resting and viewing the stars, for the night was clear and all seemed peaceful at first.
'Round midnight I perceived one drawing 'nigh, and I deemed 'twas one of the Halflings for its footsteps were scarcely to be heard, yet with it came a return of that sense of evil I had felt aforetime. I was curious, for though all the Perianin I have met were rustic and ignorant, ne'er aforetime had I known any of that kindred to be evil.
Now the presence drew 'nigh and my skin crawled, and I felt the approach of some fell Shade, yet through slitted eyes I could mark the advance of none. Still I remained unmoving, feigning the sleep of mortals, and then the Sarchram cried out in protest and threat, Unhand me, Dark One! To the Void I shall send thee, accursed spirit!, and I felt one unclean lay a hand upon it. As ye know, it bears a fragment of my own fëa. Through it, I clearly perceived the touch of something loathsome.
Then, whilst yet unmoving, I called upon the Light of Aman and it blazed forth and drove off the malefactor. I believe I heard a momentary cry of pain and the splash of something escaping into the water. 'Twas then that I heard the same words thou received. Harsh but soft came that whisper, heard more with the heart than the ear, and I felt dirty just for having heard it."
Whilst Elrond leant forward o'er his desk with his concentration fixed on her, Galadriel nodded, digesting her words. Helluin's experience explained much, but offered no answers.
"I too heard those words. They came to me in the midnight hour a week past. I wager I heard them even as they were spoken to thee. I deemed them a temptation to grandeur and an offer of power, as if they were a favor to be conferred, but how and by whom, I know not. As to thou, the offer was spoken faintly to my spirit, and the hearing of it made me feel loathing and shame."
The Lady of Lothlórien paused a moment and then blinked, returning to their company from her memories.
"I admit that I remain confused, and much did I ponder the incident as I rode north after," Helluin said. "I felt the approach of evil, but saw 'naught at its coming as if it had no hröa, and yet I felt it touch the Sarchram which said, 'unhand me', as it were more than an unhoused fëa. When I flared with Light, it seemed to cry out in pain and I heard a splash, as of a physical body hitting the water. Being evil, the Holy Light would have wounded it whether of spirit or flesh. The whisper came after as though disembodied. Indeed 'twas surely so, for the words came also to Artanis in that same moment, fifty leagues to the south. I understand this not."
"'Tis perplexing indeed, meldis nín, a strange amalgam of weakness and strength, frailty and power," Galadriel mused. "As a sneak-thief it accosted thee craving to steal the Sarchram, rather than as a warrior demanding a challenge for to take a spoil. 'Twas easily repelled, and it yet spoke as if to offer mastery o'er the world."
"Perhaps its enticement was empty," the dark Noldo said, "for if 'twas intended as temptation, it appealed not and the very hearing of the offer was revulsive. I care not for ruling the world."
"It doth seem that this thief had not the means to honor its offer, and what recompense was demanded of ye to accept it?" Elrond asked, speaking for the first time. "No fee was e'er named."
Helluin and Galadriel both shook their heads 'nay', for neither of them had been asked for 'aught in return. The offer had seemed no more than an idle and extravagant temptation. In the end, their discussion died out for lack of insights. The incident had been vaguely threatening, yet the source of the evil had been driven hence easily enough and no injuries had been sustained.
"Hereafter, I shall attribute this incident to the 'Ghost of Sîr Ninglor'," said Helluin to Elrond, "the spirit of a feeble liar." To Galadriel, she added, "Pray warn thy folk to be ware as they pass through the Loeg Ningloron, yet I wager a sharp eye and a sharper arrow shall stand them in good stead should they need to spend a night in the swamp."
"I shall warn them to stray not amongst the iris beds after dark," she said. "I take my leave. Pray be well 'til next we meet meldis nín." Helluin dipped her head to the princess and then her astral projection vanished.
"Shalt thou linger yet a while?" Elrond asked Helluin.
"Aye, meldir nín, for I have some new lore other than that of the ghost to share," she said, drawing forth her stove and fuel bottle from her travel bag. "At Norðr-vestandóttir Bý of late, we have taken to refining a fluid of several virtues."
She poured some of the clear liquid into the Peredhel's goblet and some into her own. Some she added to the tank of the stove and bid him call for thin strips of meat and skewers, and Lindir provided these, along with salads, bread, cheese, and bowls of soup. They dined, cooking the strips of meat o'er the flame whilst sipping the beverage.
"Thou and thine allies actually drink this?" Elrond had asked, holding up the goblet after his first sip.
"They more than I," Helluin had replied, "and they have taken to mixing it with honeyed fruit syrups, cider, and even plain water."
"It burns the throat and briefly makes me hoarse," the Peredhel declared, "and I imagine the effects of some half dozen bottles of wine might well be eclipsed by just a glass or two of this, this… by what name dost thou call it?"
"Vorsaira, Castalda, and Ránehen have taken to calling it Ithilril¹, claiming that the effects make the moon and stars seem to shine brighter after drinking quantities at night," Helluin said with a shrug. "Equally, they could call it Uidírad² and not be counted wrong." ¹(Ithilril, Moonshine = Ithil(Moon) + ril(brilliance) Sindarin) ²(Uidírad, Double vision = ui-(double) + tírad(vision) The –t is lenited to –d with a prefix. Sindarin)
Elrond scoffed at that, but took another sip and grimaced.
"I shall stick with wine," he said, "for this hath no enjoyable flavor by itself. I can see more value in thy compact stove." He grilled another strip of meat and then toasted a slice of bread.
Afterwards, they spoke of the enhancement of the Yrch and the involvement of Black Númenóreans. Elrond was shocked but had no lore to add.
When Helluin departed the Hidden Valley several days later, she left diagrams carefully drawn, illustrating the stove and the distilling apparatus, and shortly later, some of the Elves of Imladris recreated those devices to assuage their curiosity. Later still, they discovered that the fluid was able to render and concentrate the active virtues of many medicinal herbs, and at last, the Peredhel found a practical use for the Ithilril. Such tinctures became widely used by Elves and Men, for they were easier to preserve and carry than raw herbs, especially those that needed to be applied whilst fresh or were by nature low in concentration. As for Helluin, she returned to Norðr-vestandóttir Bý to continue the training of the Tatyar, for all too soon as the Elves reckon, they would be called upon to wage war against new enemies.
Yet what of the Ghost of Sîr Ninglor? Though Helluin and the Wise discerned neither his kind nor the evil he bore at that time, he did indeed take away much from his failed attempt to filch Helluin's precious Ring.
Slowly, carefully, silently, invisibly, the ghost had crept 'nigh, and all the while the precious had whispered in his ear, The Ring, the Ring, take the Ring! It had not given him a moment's peace. The last thing he had e'er wanted to do was to approach one of the Big folk, and this one was unlike any he had heard of, covered in metal and carrying a sword. The Ring, the Ring, take the Ring! it urged. He had felt like screaming. Then he reached out and touched it…
It was my birthday, the ghost whispered to itself as it curled in a ball in the cool, soothing mud a mile upstream from the Loeg Ningloron, and it wouldn't give me a present. Nasty! Nasty! Nasty! It burnt me with its bright eyes and its lightning. I hates it, that stingy vicious thing!
The flash burns throbbed and he sobbed o'er the torment of his reddened skin. E'ery strand of hair had been burnt from the front his body, eyelashes, eyebrows, all of it, leaving only a scraggly tuft at the back of his head. He had no way to know that t'would ne'er properly grow back.
The last thing he had truly seen was the blue fire erupting from the creature's eyes. He had blindly leapt into the water, desperate to escape the blast of Light that had seemed brighter than the sun for being so abrupt in the dark of night. Then he had felt his way through the water, amongst the reeds, and along submerged bars of mud. It seemed like he had fled for hours, and finally exhaustion, pain, and raw hatred had o'ercome him so that he stilled on a muddy eyot in the flow of a tributary that ran down to Ninglor from the mountains to the northwest. Only slowly had his vision returned to any semblance of normal, yet with the dawn, the rising sun seemed painfully bright.
After a couple hours, the ghost felt recovered enough to revert to verbalizing his internal dialog. The whispered words had grown more bitter with each passing year. Ne'er the most popular of his clan, still, he had had a place. He was the grandson of the grand matriarch of the grandest family in their settlement. He deserved to be treated well, in fact, he reckoned that he deserved to be treated better than most, and it had been his birthday.
Two-faced, Déagol, his near kin and supposed best friend, had given him a terra cotta figurine of a sheep coated with tiny seeds that would grow into a lush green fleece, a cheap and undesirable gift that was far, far less than he deserved. He had smiled at Déagol and schemed o'er how to get even with him for such an insult.
They had gone fishing, but after a while, the ghost had tired of waiting on fish and had stepped from the boat to explore the bank. Perhaps I should break his pole or tangle his line, or maybe shove him o'erboard where the current runs swift. He had barely thought it when lucky, undeserving Déagol had snagged a fish, a fish so big that it had pulled him right o'er the gunwales and into the water! The ghost had laughed and laughed as he watched the fish swim off with Déagol's pole trailing downriver after it. Lost his pole and he deserves it! he had chortled to himself. He came to stand behind a tree 'nigh the place where the boat floated and he watched Déagol, imagining grabbing a handful of his hair when he swam back to the boat and holding his head underwater.
But when Déagol had surfaced, clutched in his muddy hand had been the most beautiful Ring the ghost had e'er seen. Indeed, though it bore no sparkly stone as did his grandmother's rings, somehow, it had appeared precious. And then as Déagol gloated o'er his find, the Ring had called to the ghost, enticing, seductive, and with promises of esteem and grandeur that he had ne'er imagined he could win. Thou shalt be respected as a lord amongst thy kind, it had said.
'Twas as though for the first time, someone had recognized his potential! After all his years of quietly seeking after the secrets to be found 'neath the roots of trees, or in the depths of pools, now at last, someone valued his lore. The voice of the Ring believed in him, and it believed him to be as entitled as did he himself. But the great take what is their due, it had said, and in his heart of hearts, he knew the words to be true. And so, as if drawn by the invisible halter of his desire, the ghost had come to Déagol.
"Give us that, Déagol, my love," the ghost had said.
Déagol turned to look o'er his shoulder at the ghost and asked, "Why?"
"Because it's my birthday," the ghost had said, "and I wants it."
"I don't care," Déagol had said dismissively, "I have given you a present already, more than I could afford. I found this, and I'm going to keep it."
"Oh are you indeed, my love," the ghost had said**.
Afterwards, he had been horrified and perplexed as his hands slipped from the limp neck of his supposed best friend. He had choked Déagol to his death without a second thought, though he barely remembered doing it, but the Ring was his! He put it on his finger and lo! the fit was perfect, as if it had been made just for him. 'Twas late-Gwaeron of 2463.
Well done, O Lord of the Ring, it said in mocking approval, and now thou must hide the body lest the blame for his death come to thee. It must be deemed that he hath disappeared without a trace.
At the ghost's initial hesitation, (for he was still shocked at what he had done), the Ring cajoled, he is dead and 'naught shall restore him. Whyfor then should thou be blamed? He should hath given thee a proper birthday present.
The ghost agreed and Déagol's body was ne'er found.
Then the ghost had returned home, nervous about what to say, for he had been seen leaving with Déagol, but to his amazement, none could mark him, and he soon realized that whilst wearing the Ring, he was invisible to their eyes!
Now all the secrets that he had sought 'neath shrubs and mounds of earth, or in still water paled before what he could learn simply by listening to the vindictive mutterings, the whispers of self-doubt and guilt, or the arguments of kin late at night. There were hurtful, painful things spoken in passion or sorrow for him to hear, now that he had the ability to violate anyone's privacy. What fun! Gleefully he hurt those who insulted him, meeting their words with the scathing declaration of their hidden truths. After a while, few would challenge him, and he destroyed the reputations of those that did. He found that he enjoyed it, but those 'round him came to despise him for the pain he caused, for e'eryone had their secrets and the invasion of their privacy they deemed unseemly.
He remembered the words the Ring had spoken, the great take what is their due, and now, if he coveted a thing, he took it and hoarded it, and none could prove an accusation against him when what was missing could not be found. In seven years, he built quite a treasury. Just like a dragon in a story of old, he thought himself, and just as untouchable.
Whilst those who knew him came to deplore him, some who knew him not still felt sympathy, for his best friend had disappeared and surely, the ghost was sorrowful o'er his loss. He was simply handling his grief poorly, but they deemed he would eventually put it behind him. Yet all that would change.
In the winter of 2469-70, the ghost became enamored of a sweet lass, fair, but still far too young for proper courting, yet the whisper came to him again from the precious saying, the great take what is their due. So he dogged her steps during the day and slipped into her bedchamber to watch her sleep at night. With the Ring on his finger, she ne'er saw him. Surprisingly gentle, his hand would softly stroke her flaxen hair as she dreamt, and a smile would come to her lips. Invisible, he soon took to lying beside her and she woke not at his weight upon her mattress, but rather snuggled against him in her innocent sleep, seeking the warmth of his body from the winter chill.
He lay beside her, and whether the notion was truly his or not, he touched her, stimulated her 'til her breathing came fast and ragged, and in her dreams, an excitement she had not known aforetime came upon her and she accepted him. Then he was with her and in her and they moved together, 'til he felt her clenching 'round him as he exploded. She awoke panting, sweating, and spasming, but she saw none. She was alone, and after some moments of shock, thought her body had experienced an orgasm spontaneously, just as she and some of her girlfriends had whispered and giggled o'er. She cleaned herself and went back to sleep. To the ghost, she had become precious.
So it came to pass that night after night she awakened to the aftermath of her ghostly lover, and a secret grin shaped her lips when she thought of it. For weeks it went on thus, from Girithron through Narwain and Nínui, and then into early Gwaeron as a dark suspicion grew. By the third week of Gwaeron, she knew she was with child and her world came crashing down 'round her as it began to show. She would not come of age for another eighteen years¹. ¹(Halflings celebrate 'coming of age' at 33.)
Night came and the ghost passed her window as he had done each night for the last season. It was his birthday and he had resolved to reveal himself to her at last, to offer the young beauty his heart, but on this night, she lay not abed awaiting him. Her naked body was hanging from a ceiling beam at the end of a rope, already grown chill whilst her feet turned lazy pirouettes waist high above the floor as the rope slowly untwisted. By the swelling of her belly and breasts he could clearly see that she had been pregnant…she had carried an unborn child…his child…and she had slain herself rather than live as a mother…as his wife! His scream of anguish woke the household. When he heard their footsteps, he fled. Alone in the dark he sobbed, Happy birthday to me. The day dawned like a taunt.
Many years later, he would feel no sympathy for the parents of the babes he robbed from their cradles as he made his way south from Mirkwood. They were not precious and the great take what is their due. Besides, he had endured the same sorrow long aforetime and no sympathy had come to him. Instead, he had been ostracized.
The hamlet was alive with horrified whispers after her suicide and later that morn his grandmother had called him to her. Her eyes were sad and stern and she had cried, but she had banished him, for too divisive had he become and the peace of the family and their settlement he had extinguished. She listened to neither his excuses, nor his explanations.
"Go, Sméagol," she had said softly but firmly, "none can abide thee any longer and ere some violence is done, I bid thee make thy way hence."
He had left feeling numb, and that night he had met Helluin. Worst birthday ever, ever, ever.
The one whose Ring he had failed to take, the one with blue fire in its eyes, the one that had burnt him with lightning, he knew not for sure even from what kindred it came. No tale told by his people spoke of any with such powers. 'Twas only many years later as he spied on the Orcs of Kapul Utot that he would hear rumors of the Ghâshgûl. Thereafter, his hatred for those Elves with the bright eyes and the fire inside ne'er left him, but that hatred was tempered by fear, a fear second only to his fear of the one in Mordor that the Orcs whispered of with such terror.
Centuries passed whilst the Ring ruined him and abetting its effects had been the flash of Light that suffered no evil. The sun and even the moon hurt his eyes, for their light came of the same source as the lightning. Daylight burnt his skin just as the Ghâshgûl had. 'Twas as if the scorching of that night had followed him down the years. Alone in his dismal cave with his raw fish and the occasional Orch, as he turned and whimpered to the precious in the nightmares of his tormented sleep, the Ghost of Sîr Ninglor might have been heard to whisper, It should have given me its Ring, another precious for my birthday.
*This bit of dialog was based on Bilbo's conversation with Gandalf in Bag End following his disappearance from his eleventy-first birthday party in "The Hobbit", Ch. 1, "A Long-Expected Party", pg 32.
**This bit of dialog comes almost verbatim from Gandalf's conversation with Frodo in Bag End after they see the inscription on the One Ring. "The Lord of the Rings", "The Fellowship of the Ring", Book One - Ch. II, "The Shadow of the Past", pg52.
To Be Continued