In An Age Before – Part 267
The last time Warg Riders had entered Moria on behalf of Sauron had been in 2003. At that time, the ill-fated company of the Orch who had taken the name Vagungajol had felt an updraft of heated air that carried the stench of brimstone and burnt rock as they crossed Durin's Bridge. A ruddy and wavering light, as of distant flames, had illuminated the Second Hall. Only two decades had passed then since Durin's Bane had slain Durin VI and driven hence the last of the Gonnhirrim.
By 2477, the fires in the depths 'neath Durin's Bridge had abated and all lay silent and dark. It seemed that Durin's Bane slept and Moria had fallen quiescent.
After spending a day to secure the Second Hall, (which stretched east to west for a league and north to south for a mile), the Werewolves, Wargs, and their riders continued their careful exploration of Moria. The deep halls of a vast realm are delved therein, their master had said. Gijakûrz-kragor and all the others had imagined a fortress like Dol Guldur, but buried 'neath a mountain. None of them had imagined the sheer extent of Khazad-dûm. A single large hall such as the second would have held all of Dol Guldur with room to spare.
They soon discovered that the situation was far worse than just a succession of huge halls. The entire layout was repeated with seemingly random variations of labyrinthine chambers on multiple levels. The notion of searching Moria hall by hall proved absurd. Most large spaces had multiple entrances and no few had a dozen or more. They found staircases leading up or down, and corridors leading off to series of galleries where the floor of each was slightly lower or slightly higher than the one before. Oft times the entrance to some cavernous room opened immediately onto a grand staircase. If there were discreet roads connecting the avenues, they were unrecognizable, and in no time, they lost all sense of direction. They found no maps, and whate'er directions that might have been included amongst the symbols carved on the walls were wholly incomprehensible.
Bloody Fang reckoned they had but two ways to proceed. He could divide his company into teams that would examine a succession of rooms for a set period of time ere turning back to meet again in the Second Hall. Alas, there was no day or night 'neath the ground and so no way to mark the passage of time. Rendezvous would be missed, whether accidentally or intentionally. In addition, Gijakûrz-kragor greatly disliked the possibility of creating any illusion of autonomy amongst his troops. Separating them into four smaller forces, even with a trio of Werewolves in command of each, would encourage some to mutiny. He had no trust in the Wargs and the Yrch.
His other option was keeping the company intact. T'would slow their exploration by a factor of four, but at least he could keep an eye on them all and eliminate those with some misplaced ambition. He realized that it mattered little how long it took to survey Moria and besides, there was strength in numbers. His biggest problem was how to feed so many mouths.
One fact they soon marked. Within Moria, there were occasional vertical shafts that led up to the surface. These admitted light so that many of the halls and galleries enjoyed a faint natural illumination. Such were most common on the upper levels, yet there were many places were total darkness reigned. Into such places, Gijakûrz-kragor sent dismounted Yrch as scouts. Only they could make and kindle torches, and so they proved their worth by having hands with usable fingers and thumbs.
As the days passed into weeks, they found no others. They could mark no signs or scents suggesting that anyone had recently passed by. The whole of Moria seemed deserted. Soon, the company advanced with half the Yrch walking and bearing lit torches as they held the perimeter. This arrangement, Bloody Fang had ordered, reasoning that fifty Orcs could not coordinate to drop their torches all at the same time and flee into the dark. As an added measure of security, he promised the Wargs that if they were abandoned, they were welcome to run down and eat any Orch they found.
The company searched now for food and water as much as for possible foes. They stayed their hunger mostly by catching the rats that abound in all cities. Still, starvation was eager to become their companion. At the same time, the fear of lurking enemies began to fade a bit more with each day that no contact was made, and so their wariness and stealth diminished as time went by. A month passed and then two, yet it seemed that Moria just went on and on. 'Twas mind-numbing and the silent halls all came to look the same. Each one in the company sought, but ne'er saw their own footprints in the dust on the floors, and so they deemed that they had not revisited any place seen aforetime. After a season, even Gijakûrz-kragor had to admit that they were completely lost.
In 2003, when Vagungajol and his Warg Riders had explored Moria, he had ignored the levels above and below the Second Hall. He had ridden west, whilst gorging on still edible victuals in restaurants, army mess halls, and common rooms. His Yrch and Wargs had been given free rein to desecrate and pillage, and they had left a clearly visible trail of destruction in their wake. In this way, they would have easily found their way back east, had they not found death 'nigh the West Gate instead. Their foray through the deserted realm had been like a gleeful, rampaging holiday, for shortly after arriving, they had determined to desert and ne'er return to Dol Guldur.
Gijakûrz-kragor's company had advanced with stealth, leaving 'naught but footprints in the dust. These, the slow 'breathing' of Khazad-dûm erased in a fortnight or so. They enjoyed no preexisting stores, for the centuries had long aforetime rendered to ruin 'aught that had been edible. They caused no destruction for the sake of preserving their stealth. The company, and especially the Werewolves, took their mission seriously and retained their intention of completing it on their master's behalf. With well 'nigh all of their decisions working against them, 'twas well 'nigh fated that they should fail.
Now during those same years, whilst Sauron created his Werewolves and then sent them to investigate Moria, others of lesser pedigree, but longer tenancy began to spread again in the Misty Mountains. 'Twixt 1851 and 1974, Helluin had slain well 'nigh all the Yrch south of the High Pass who had then populated the eastern face of the Hithaeglir. As the Ghâshgûl, she had stricken an entire race with fear. Yet five centuries had passed since her last foray in the warrens 'neath Methedras, and though the rumor of her murderous rage persisted, her presence had not. Generations of Uruk-hai had lived in her absence, and as mortal memory is wont to do, o'er time a terrifying mortal foe had become a boogeyman of lore.
By the entreaties of Glorfindel, Thórá, Gwingion, and Galadhon, Helluin had quit the Hithaeglir and returned to Eriador to aid in the desperate fight to reclaim Arthedain from the Witch King. She had already resolved to go west by then, for she had despaired of learning 'aught from the Yrch concerning the disappearance of Beinvír. In doing so, she had left Kâpul Ulot and the other strongholds of the Orcs to the north 'twixt the High Pass and Gundabad unprosecuted.
During the last restoration of Angmar, Tindomul had conscripted all the Uruk-hai from Gundabad and he had sent his servants to impress those living in the smaller warrens to the south. These eventually came upon the predations Helluin had exacted as the Ghâshgûl, and upon hearing their tidings, the Witch King bid his Yrch stay their conscription; he reckoned his profit the greater by leaving Helluin to her devices. So 'twas that, whether by o'ersight or by their intimidation of the Nazgûl's messengers, the Yrch of Goblin Town escaped service to Angmar during the war of 1974-5. Life in Kâpul Ulot continued undisturbed as it had for centuries.
A further observation about Kâpul Ulot should be mentioned. The Uruk-hai there retained as natural a state as such creatures can. Since their creation by Morgoth in the centuries following the awakening of the Elves, they had reproduced as do other mammals, and save for some few experiments by the first Enemy, they had been left to multiply on their own. They had undergone none of Sauron's recent enhancements.
During all their years in Beleriand, the Yrch had increased in numbers, for their lustful impulses were no less than their impulses for bloodshed, conniving, gluttony, drunkenness, or any other form of self-indulgence. In matters of sex, the practice of promiscuity held sway and coupling was indiscriminate. They took males and females of other races captive for sport, food, or pleasure. Being afield and at war, they were constantly moving and had little use for permanent slaves. Those few female victims of rape, (or more typically, repeated gang rape), that lived long enough birthed half-breed offspring, and by the survival of those babies that were not eaten, the blood of Men and even Dwarves entered the Orkish population very early on*.
After the sinking of Beleriand, such contacts 'twixt Yrch and other races became fewer in most places. This was true in the Hithaeglir and especially in Kâpul Ulot. O'er millennia, despite having begun with a population of many thousands, some lines were more vicious, dominating, and reproductively successful than others. Like the rising of cream atop milk or the floating of oil on water, certain bloodlines came to predominate in the isolation of Goblin Town, and this led to the expected ills of inbreeding. Deformities and infirmities accumulated 'til they became commonplace and the Orcs, already hideous, became yet more so as the years passed. By the third millennium of the Third Age, the denizens of the great mountain warren were wildly varying in appearance.
As much as their forms, their society had changed after the First Age. Unlike Gundabad, which had at first been a Dwarvish realm, the true origin of Kâpul Ulot is unknown though its ancientry is unquestioned. Perhaps 'twas established as an outpost of Utumno for the purpose of waylaying the Firstborn on the Westward Journey as they passed o'er the Misty Mountains. What is known is that the Host of Valinor functionally liberated the Yrch from Morgoth and for the first time, they were free to create their own culture. Despite participating in several wars, they were uninvolved in external conflicts for the vast majority of their years, but more importantly, they were settled in a permanent lair of their own.
Along with an established abode and the perennial desire of victims for sport, food, or pleasure, the Yrch of Kâpul Ulot had acquired uses for slaves. There were tunnels to hew, rocks to move, water to carry, bridges to build, and the countless menial tasks required in any realm. Generations of pitiful wretches were born and lived out their lives in servitude 'neath the mountains. These were originally Dwarves and Men as well as prisoners from other Yrch warrens, (or convicts from their own), and their ranks soon came to include many half-Orcs of mixed races. O'er time, the slaves embraced their captors' values for only the newly enslaved had known 'aught else. Eventually, some amongst the half-breeds became doxies or servants and graduated into the predominate society of Goblin Town. The contributions of their wombs constituted the only new blood entering the breeding pool.
Kâpul Ulot claimed all the heights of the Hithaeglir 'twixt Gundabad and Khazad-dûm as their realm, though they spent 'naught in blood or effort to defend it. Small warrens and lairs in their territory were deemed tributary, but none collected the tribute, save in rare times at the whim of their king. For the most part, they preyed on travelers and traders in the mountains, and occasionally on hamlets in the adjacent lowlands. If an isolated mining town was suddenly bereft of its inhabitants, or a caravan went missing, 'twas reckoned ill fate if 'twas marked at all. O'er time, throughout the lower slopes of the central mountains, ghost towns, abandoned farms, and deserted villages proliferated 'til the years and weathering rendered them back to the soil as if they had ne'er been.
Now as was told aforetime, the environs of the High Pass were criss-crossed by trails that had existed since time immemorial. These had been trod by prospectors since the first Durin's days, and by the Men of the Vale of Anduin and of Eriador ere Elendil came from Númenor or the Kingdom of Rhudaur rose. Though they had earnt an ill repute, the trails were still used by the locals of towns both east and west of the mountains, new and long established. Only the High Pass had gained wider acclaim and a name on maps, for the Dúnedain had once graded and improved it in the days of the Last Alliance. Twenty-five centuries later, 'twas still the easiest pass for riders and the one favored for wagons going o'er the Hithaeglir. 'Twas also periodically contested, as when Galadhon had returned to Imladris to aid Elrond in suppressing a renewed threat to travelers in 2063.
Along those snaking highland paths lay many entrances to Kâpul Ulot. Goblin Town sprawled 'cross many, many miles with galleries and tunnels boring through the heart of the mountains. So dispersed were some of those remote enclaves that their inhabitants knew 'naught of others of their kind far away and none knew all their realm's winding passages and hidden mouths. There were no maps and new delvings were dug on whim or at need without central authority or planning. Old lairs and tunnels were abandoned or walled off. Some of these were reopened or rediscovered by the Yrch centuries later whilst others were regarded as empty natural caves by generations of the local surface population. So 'twas that after thousands of years, Kâpul Ulot comprised a mind-numbing labyrinth whose true extent was known to none. Its haphazard sprawl was more random, but e'ery bit as complex as Moria.
Another further observation about Kâpul Ulot should be made. Unlike the Gonnhirrim, the Yrch cared little for the deeper wisdom of geology or engineering. Heedlessly they burrowed and some of their delvings were ill advised. When new caverns were opened or new depths excavated, they would at times come into contact with other creatures, ancient, nameless, and terrifying that dwelt in the depths 'neath the mountains. What they were and whence they came, none knew. Perhaps these nightmares had always existed, populating the subterranean lakes and reservoirs that underpinned the Hithaeglir. The Yrch drove them back if they could or fled them if they could not. They were not allies and had owed allegiance to none, not even to Morgoth in his time. They were part of an older world, strange and unexplored by any from the surface, their intentions as alien and inscrutable as their forms.
Now as has been said, the Yrch of Kâpul Ulot sought for slaves as well as victims. From their many entrances to the surface, they kept watch on the mountain passes and trails, snatching a hunting party here or a company of prospectors there, and occasionally assailing a town.
In late Urui of 2477, a horde of two hundred Uruk-hai from Kâpul Ulot descended into the Vale of Anduin to the north of the High Pass and assailed an isolated village called Helrunahlæw¹. The Men there were related to the Éothéod, but had settled west of the Old Ford o'er Anduin in 1977 rather than relocate further north to Framsburg, for they had deemed their king's new city all too close to Gundabad and Angmar. Of the folk who dwelt in Helrunahlæw, some prospected for ores, some practiced blacksmithing, and some tended horses, cows, and sheep during the warm months ere descending to lower winter pastures. The town had peacefully stood for many generations, midway up a narrow vale, and by then, its people had forgotten the origins of its name. ¹(Helrunahlæw, Demon Hill = helruna(demon) + hlæw(hill) Old English)
The current residents were mostly descendants of the original settlers. Twice in five hundred years, their population had been 'culled' by Yrch from Kâpul Ulot. They had first struck in 2179, two centuries and five generations after Helrunahlæw was established. Those who fled the invaders survived to return home. Those taken captive became slaves, ne'er to be heard from again. After the first attack, the stubborn villagers, (those who had not belatedly emigrated to Framsburg), renamed their village from Irenhlæw¹ and resumed their way of life, though with a degree of wariness that lasted for a generation or two. After another three centuries and another seven generations, their history had been repeated. ¹(Irenhlæw, Iron Hill = iren(iron) + hlæw(hill) Old English)
This time, of the three hundred seventy-five souls in the village at the time of the attack, 'nigh four score were slain in battle or for sport after if they had been wounded. All of these were dragged off in the villagers' wagons to become rations. The victors claimed 'nigh two hundred as slaves, many of them women and children. They also took the livestock, for they knew a meal when they saw one. Only eighty-seven of the residents of Helrunahlæw managed to flee during the chaos of the fighting or were afield at the time of the attack and survived.
These terrified people kept running 'til they were exhausted, and after resting through a tearful night, continued east down the Men-i-Naugrim and did not cease their flight 'til they had crossed Anduin. They had 'naught but nightmares and the clothes on their backs as they stood on the eastern bank in despair, but their sheer outpouring of grief was carried on the breeze to the grass and the leaves of trees. Their woe was felt by olvar and kelvar and soon one came amongst them, a stranger in brown who offered them sympathy and food and counsel.
Aiwendil heard their tale and felt their sorrow. His first thought was to urge them to join their people in Framsburg, but they shook their heads, refusing to cross back o'er Anduin and then live in the shadow of Gundabad in what had once been East Angmar. Their livelihoods had been taken from them, their livestock, workshops, forges, and gardens stolen or left behind. They had neither the weapons, nor the knowledge to become hunters and the season was too late for tilling and planting. He and they both knew that they could ne'er gather sufficient sustenance in unknown lands to survive the coming winter. With a sigh, he settled for what he deemed to be his final option, to impose upon a friend.
"If ye would become farmers, then I know a place where ye may find shelter and succor," the Ithron said. "I have friends living to the south in a place that once supported far more folk than abide there now."
The people looked to each other, still traumatized and indecisive. Some had done limited farming on private plots and they had a tradition of subsistence agriculture sufficient to enjoy bread and vegetables in Helrunahlæw.
"These friends would accept so many?" asked Heregar, looking at his fellow escapees, many of whom nodded in agreement. "We have 'naught to offer save the labor of our hands."
"I believe they would," said Aiwendil, "for their farm was once part of the city of Suꝺriborg."
Five centuries had passed since the Éothéod had abandoned their South Fortress, yet its name was still known. Suꝺriborg had a place in the early lore of their people. There had been lordly houses and an outpost of riders there upon a time, a half-blooded Westman princess and a fabled and fearless hunter.
"Tales say it lies far to the south," said Olliua, the only survivor who could count o'er two score and ten years. "How shall we come so far?"
The Brown Wizard looked pointedly at her feet and said, "The One gifted thee legs and so thou shalt walk to Norðr-vestandóttir Bý. It lies five score and fifteen miles south."
"But I am old," she said, self-consciously running a hand through her tangled locks of dull gold streaked with grey.
"Thou hast spent all thy life walking the paths in thy mountain vale, uphill and down, but the road to Norðr-vestandóttir Bý is flat. None chase thee and the freeze of winter is months away. Yet if this is not sufficient to convince thee, then I shall lead hence any who would go thither. I am far older than thee, but I should like to see my longtime friend who dwells there."
Olliua looked at the Wizard, his hair and beard white with only a few strands darker, his face lined with wrinkles, and she felt both new confidence and some embarrassment for complaining. Along with the others, his suggestion was the best chance they saw and returning to a past home of their people was far from journeying to an unknown land. She nodded to herself.
"I shall follow thee," she said and 'round her others murmured in agreement.
"I too shall come to Suꝺriborg and try my hand at farming," said Heregar, "though aforetime I was a blacksmith."
Aiwendil nodded to them and hid a grin. "They have a smithy," he said.
"When shall we leave?" asked Mæðhild.
The Wizard glanced to the sky, marking Anor's position an hour past noon. 'Nigh seven hours would pass ere sunset.
"Now shall be as good a time as any, for there is 'naught hither to stay ye," he said, and began walking south.
The people of Demon Rock looked to each other, looked at his receding back, and then began to follow. They continued thus for another ten days, walking at an easy pace as they trailed after the Ithron.
"He must do a lot of walking," Mæðhild had said to Olliua after the first few hours.
The old Wizard seemed to tire not, but was willing to pause when the others felt the need for a break. Along the trail, he pointed out wild foods from a 'nigh constant succession of plants that they gathered so that they seldom actually had to take meal breaks. Soon enough, the people came to recognize those edible seeds, berries, and fruits on their own.
"He also seems to have a way with birds," Olliua had replied to Mæðhild.
They had seen some songbirds alight on his shoulders or atop his floppy hat, and it seemed that he conversed with them ere they flew away to the south. Aiwendil also seemed to know of e'ery brook and stream whereat to slake their thirst. The land had ne'er seemed so accommodating.
On the second day of Ivanneth, the group turned from the north south track and onto a trail that led west. They followed the north bank of a larger stream, almost a small river. For the first time, they actually walked through a wood of mixed trees rather than the few copses or willows that lined the larger watercourses. Ahead lay a fence of split rails without a gate, only a broad opening to pass through. They came to a berry bramble beside the stream and paused to gorge on ripe, late season fruit, and ahead they saw buildings on the bank and a herd of horses that watched them approach.
Amongst the horses, a single rider sat, clad in black armor and girt with a bow and weapons as a rider of old. As they came closer, they marked that the black knight was a woman. That they could mistake her for a rider of the Éothéod attested that they had not seen a rider of their people in generations. That impression evaporated when they came 'nigh. The knight dipped her head to the Wizard and then greeted him in a melodic, lilting tongue.
"Mae govannen, Aiwendil, meldir ifant nín," Helluin said, hearing the people whispering, Ælf.
"Suilad nín, Helluin, a hannon cin," the Ithron replied, trading smiles with her ere switching to the Common Tongue for the benefit of the others. "Thou hast been well, I hope?"
"All is well here and I hope thy journey has been untroubled," she said. She then cast her bright eyes to the gathered survivors and asked, "Are these the folk of which the birds have told?"
"Aye, they have fled their home in the Hithaeglir after an attack by Yrch," he said, and marked the flash of wrath in the Noldo's eyes.
"Let us settle them first, and then I must hear their rede," she said.
O'er the years of their occupancy on the farm, Helluin, Galadhon, and later the Tatyar had repaired any building with a foundation of stone. Those wholly of wood had been pulled down and what materials could be salvaged were reused. Ere Suꝺriborg had been abandoned, Norðr-vestandóttir Bý had been home to many families of farmers and craftsmen. They had built many homes. Now the land south of the burnt ground where the original stockade had stood hosted farmhouses, workshops and storefronts with proprietor apartments, and of course the barracks of the original stockade.
Some found new places to practice their trades. Heregar and his surviving son moved into the smithy that Böðvildr Arngrímdóttir had established in 1902 and they were amazed. Helluin demonstrated the helve hammer and bellows, both powered by the water wheel, a method wholly unimagined by the blacksmith from Helrunahlæw.
Others made their homes in the farmhouses and some single men moved into the barracks of the stockade. But ere 'aught else, Helluin and the Elves enlisted all hands to aid with the harvest. When the sheaves were in and the grain threshed and winnowed, some volunteers were brought to the mill and taught how to grind the grist. For the first time since Alrekr Kátmaðrsonr, the farm would have a mylnweard.
Amongst the people of Demon Rock the Elves found Beornræd and Heahmund, teenage boys who knew horses well and wished to become stable hands as had Egill centuries ago. Lindesig, like Sumor long aforetime, was a girl bordering on her teens and sorrowful, wishing for 'naught more than peace. Like Ælla and Ierþling's daughter, she found that peace tending the sheep, and so Lindesig became the shepherdess of Norðr-vestandóttir Bý. So it went, save that they discovered no one trained as a potter to fill Stjarna's place and provide vessels of fired clay.
During the week following their arrival, the refugees began new lives. Seeing them safe, Aiwendil took his leave, (with a large sack of mushrooms o'er his shoulder), and returned to Rhosgobel. 'Twas also during that time that Helluin, Ngandáro, Arinya, and Marhrondo hearkened to the survivors' accounts of the Yrch attack on Helrunahlæw. Their tale was truly pitiful and what they heard filled the Tatyar with dismay and Helluin with rage.
"They came at dusk when most were at home preparing the evening meal," Mæðhild recalled. "I was tending a pot of stew when I heard screaming, shouting, and the hooting calls of Goblins. I knew those sounds only from tales meant to frighten children. Out of my home I ran, and I saw monsters hewing my neighbors. They seemed gleeful to shed our blood. A few of the Men tried to defend us, my husband amongst them, but they were outnumbered and swiftly slain. I grabbed my son Nebroð's hand and we fled blindly downhill. Others joined us and we stopped not 'til the sounds behind us were dim."
The poor woman was sobbing and shaking ere she finished and her tale was repeated o'er and o'er, for those who had lived had done so only by running for their lives.
From Heregar and Beornræd they learnt the location of Helrunahlæw, north and downslope from the High Pass, but still high in a vale above the Old Ford.
"They came from Kâpul Ulot, I wager," Helluin ground out, recalling poisoning the company in the pass in 2008 and what had been told of Goblin Town by those she had slain 'twixt 1851 and 1974. "Many entrances has that warren and many Yrch abide within. Ne'er had I come thither as the Ghâshgûl, yet now the time seems ripe."
"We shall aid thee, Helluin," Marhrondo said, and the others nodded in agreement.
Helluin gave thought to their offer, but her campaign was likely to be long and required the utmost secrecy. T'would consume many years and 'twas not a fight in which their numbers would avail, for the enemy numbered in the thousands. The dark Noldo did not expect to exterminate all in Goblin Town, only take enough lives to make them fear. She reckoned t'would take several decades. Besides, they had both continuing responsibilities and new charges to care take.
"Rather, I would that ye remain to keep watch and foil any actions from Dol Guldur, and to teach those from Helrunahlæw. For a score years or more I shall be gone and my presence must remain unsuspected save at my chosen times of assault. Some outlying lairs shall be emptied and the myth of a phantom foe they cannot touch shall arise. I shall remind them of their old lore. 'Tis fear more than death I yearn to inflict."
Had they not known of her history as the Ghâshgûl, her plan would have seemed like folly. Knowing that she had spent 'nigh a century and a quarter and taken sixteen thousand heads in the warrens of the central and southern Hithaeglir made her plan seem a lesser campaign.
"Then we shall safeguard the farm and take counsel with the wolves," Arinya said.
"We wish thee good fortune and victory," Ngandáro added, "all shall be well here and waiting when thou return."
Helluin nodded to them in thanks for accepting her intentions without opposition and then stood to gather rations and 'aught else she would need. Ere dawn, she was mounted and riding the north south track in haste, draped in her tattered black cloak. On her third day out, she crossed Anduin and on the fourth, rode towards the mountains. Rather than take the climbing road to the High Pass, she turned north into the vale where lay the ghost town of Demon Rock and there she dismounted and sent her horse back to Norðr-vestandóttir Bý.
For the remainder of that afternoon, the dark Noldo climbed a well-worn trail leading higher and higher 'til she came to the empty town. 'Naught but a mournful wind blew downhill amidst the buildings, stone foundations below, half-timbered above, long established, a bit shabby, and now forlorn.
The Noldo came to an irregular, packed earth square in the center of the town where stood a well. The water smelt foul and looked murky. At the bottom, she could just make out the body of a sheep staring up at the sky with clouded eyes. They spared the effort to poison the well, she observed, how thorough.
Doors stood open and shutters creaked in the breeze. Some puddles of blood had soaked into the ground or spattered the walls, but the bodies had disappeared. Into stew pots, no doubt, Helluin ground out in thought. She gritted her teeth and continued to examine the town of Helrunahlæw.
A walk down the street, (of which the town boasted only two that crossed at the well), allowed Helluin to glance into windows. She saw tables and chairs o'erturned, curtains ripped down, shelving broken and house wares scattered 'cross floors. The mayhem seemed consistent throughout and included a few outlying homes with livestock pens. Most surprising to her was that 'naught had been put to the torch, but perhaps the Yrch had hoped the survivors would return to endure further suffering so that they would be available for the next attack.
After scouting the town, Helluin marked wagon tracks and many footprints leading uphill. These she followed as dusk drew down. The trail was clear even in the dark and the Noldo had no trouble following it, for where a wagon could go, she could certainly follow. The tracks continued inexorably upwards, gaining in altitude as a vista of the lowlands spread out below.
'Round midnight, Helluin came to a place where a small, barren field was hedged 'twixt a cliff and a precipice. The wagon tracks ended where the vehicles had been pushed o'er the edge and a glance down revealed shattered beds, sides, wheels, and benches. Hoof prints and footprints continued up along a path that soon grew narrow as it hugged the cliff face. After destroying the wagons, the Yrch had forced the living to carry the dead. Helluin mantled herself in the stealth of the Laiquendi and followed. Thus far, she had heard, seen, and smelt no sign of Orcs, but they were somewhere above, of this the Noldo had no doubt.
'Twas another four hours ere Helluin marked a dark opening in the cliff face. She crouched in the shadow of a boulder and watched for the half part of an hour, marking 'naught of light or movement, but the breeze brought the stench of the Yrch to her nostrils. The path continued upwards past the opening, but from her position, she could not tell if the footsteps continued upwards as well. She was about to slip forward to check when she saw a dark figure step out of the darkness and into the moonlight, stare in both directions along the path, and then slip back inside. The opening was guarded and that told her all she needed to know.
It took the Noldo another third part of an hour to reach the side of the entrance. By then, she could hear the soft muttering and complaining of at least a pair of guards waiting within. They had lit no torches nor kindled a fire, so she expected them to be wary and sharp-eyed in the dark. As soon as she entered upon the threshold, they would mark her, silhouetted against the moonlit backdrop of the mountains. That was unavoidable, and as she had no way to know when they would blink or look aside, she had but one option. She drew her hood up o'er her head and then drew Anguirél.
Helluin strode into the opening as if she owned the cave and the two sentries leapt to face her with their scimitars drawn.
"Hûrlatu bugjabat¹?" Helluin demanded of them in a grating voice that sounded like the hiss of a snake. She emphasized her words with twitches of the tip of her sword. ¹(Hûrlatu bugjabat?, You dare to oppose (me)? = hûr-(v. dare) + latu(pl. you) + bugjab-(v. oppose) + -at(inf v suff, to oppose) Orkish)
Backlit by the brighter outdoor landscape, she was 'naught but a black shape that might have been a Nazgûl. Their shock and hesitation gave Helluin the time to hew off their heads.
Now that she was inside the tunnel, the Noldo marked the faint and ruddy wavering light of a fire some distance ahead. 'Twas faint, but enough to see by, just as the Yrch had done. Helluin cleaned Anguirél's blade on their ragged garments and sheathed her ere dipping a hand in their blood and scrawling 'Ghâsh Gijak-ishi' on the wall. Then she wiped her hand, drew her sword, and paced carefully down the tunnel towards the fire.
To Be Continued
*While running amok in Beleriand had allowed the Yrch opportunities to rape Elves as well as Men and Dwarves, they quickly learned that doing so constituted a manner of recreational execution rather than sex. Elves of both sexes simply 'gave up the ghost' and their fëar abandoned their hröar rather than endure such violation. Only after the corpse was lifeless did the rape become pleasurable for the Yrch as sex.
This author is undecided about what part knowing they had an afterlife waiting in Valinor following death in Ennorath factored into this Elvish response, or if it was solely their native sensitivity to life and its debasement that made survival intolerable.
It should also be noted, (from the AskMiddleEarth tumbler essay 'Elves and Rape'), that, "in his essay "Laws and Customs Among the Eldar", Tolkien says "Among all these evils there is no record of any among the Elves that took another's spouse by force; for this was wholly against their nature, and one so forced would have rejected bodily life and passed to Mandos." The story of Aredhel and Eöl is cited as borderline even after JRRT's revisions. Canon is relatively unhelpful and nothing is said about unmarried Elves, (as when Lúthien is nearly forced into a coerced marriage to Celegorm in Nargothrond). Nevertheless, this is where the fanon notion that any Elf would pass to Mandos if raped derives. Since this is fan fiction and not scholarship, I'll go with it.