Apologies to readers. The last chapter, (271 - 9,500 words), was a day late in posting because I binge read a 225K word story in 2 ½ days instead of writing. This chapter is on time despite binge reading a 312K word story in 3 ½ days. It's kinda like binge watching seasons of TV shows on Netflix (sigh).
In An Age Before – Part 272
Chapter One hundred sixty-one
Celebrían and Borondir – The Third Age of the Sun
'Twas but an hour ere midnight on 6 Cerveth of T.A. 2509 when Sergeant Hador of Gondor hastened to his captain's office in the citadel of Cair Andros. A worn and travel stained cloak billowed open behind him as he strode down the hall revealing his cuirass embossed with the White Tree and his black surcoat embroidered with silver. 'Neath its hem, the shafts of his tall boots were bespattered with drying mud.
The two sentries standing guard at their captain's door could smell horse on him, and a fouler stench attesting to his recent ride of five score and ten miles from the South Kingdom's outpost just southeast of the Dead Marshes at the northern boundary of the Noman-lands. At a nod from the senior of the two sentries, he knocked on the heavy wooden door.
"Enter," came the captain's response from within, his voice crisp despite the lateness of the hour.
The senior sentry opened the door to admit the sergeant who bowed to his commanding officer as he was just rising from his seat behind the desk. The young captain greeted his arriving soldier with a smile.
"My Lord Captain Bregolas, I come with tidings from the Rangers," the sergeant said as he straightened.
The captain beckoned him forward as the door closed behind him and the sergeant crossed the austere room to stand before the desk. He came to stand at attention in the light of the twin oil lamps that lit its surface and a third on the mantle o'er the hearth where a meager heap of embers glowed on the grate, the remnant of a fire that had warmed the space. Knowing from their years serving together that his report was likely to be comprehensive, the captain gestured him to a chair and the weary sergeant took it gratefully.
After he settled, Captain Bregolas asked, "What hast thou to report, my friend?"
"My lord, their spies in the East Bight villages have reported to the Rangers that Easterlings gather southward to the east of the forest. They are not the Wainriders of old, but no better and indeed more brutal if not so accomplished as horsemen, or so say the reports," the sergeant revealed. "The Rangers were finally able to verify those tidings and fear an invasion to come."
The captain sighed as if fatigue suddenly bore upon him, but said, "So, the rumors are finally known to be more than rumors. Have they any guess as to their count, Hador? Has 'aught been learnt of their plans?"
"The Rangers saw many thousands, captain, in loose clans that travel in wains, but with fewer horses than lore tells of the Wainriders. They seem to favor fighting as infantry rather than cavalry and no chariots were seen. As for any notion of their timetable, that is still unknown, but the Rangers say that those lands cannot long support the gathering of so many. They deem that they must either disperse of advance."
The young captain nodded, his face grim. The sergeant's tidings, long rumored and now confirmed by the Rangers, seemed to presage an invasion, yet whether this host of new foes would sweep south through Dagorlad as the Wainriders had done in 1899 during the reign of Calimehtar, or again in 1944 when King Ondoher and his sons were slain, none could yet be sure. Still, the certain knowledge that thousands of foes were gathering beyond the northern borders of the realm was something his father should learn as soon as possible.
"Is there 'aught else the steward should hear, sergeant?" Bregolas asked.
"Only unconfirmed rumors, captain, of forays made by these foes through Mirkwood and into the lands of the Vale of Anduin. Whether these be simple raids for sport or plunder, scouting missions in search of an invasion route, or to honor some alliance with Dol Guldur is unknown."
Again, the captain nodded in understanding, deeming any of those possibilities threatening.
"I thank thee for thy report, Hador. Pray take some rest and have a meal. I know thou hast ridden far this night," the captain said as he rose from his desk.
"The night is late, my lord, shalt thou too retire?" Sergeant Hador asked, still feeling a hint of protectiveness lingering from when his captain had been a new recruit. It had not been so many years really.
"Nay, my friend, I ride at once for the city," Bregolas said as he made for the door.
Standing straight and shaking off his fatigue, Sergeant Hador said, "Captain, I would accompany thee if thou would have it so."
The captain turned back to face the sergeant and shook his head. "Thine offer is appreciated my old friend, but I know the mileage from the outpost. Thou art due a night's respite. I shall take messengers with me, but I would rather this threat come to the steward's ears from my own mouth. I thank thee again for thy tidings, Hador. Pray thank the Rangers for me when thou return to thy command."
The sergeant bowed to his captain and followed him from the study, back out into the hall. There Bregolas sent one sentry to summon two of the steward's message riders and make horses ready to travel. Sergeant Hador walked down the hall in the opposite direction towards the soldier's mess. A hot meal and a bunk would be welcome ere he rode back to the Noman-lands at dawn.
Within the half part of an hour, Captain Bregolas and his escort rode from the citadel of Cair Andros and took the bridge west o'er Anduin. A score and two miles southwest they galloped through the night to meet the Great West Road at Amon Dîn. At the beacon garrison, they exchanged their steeds for fresh mounts. Then they turned south, following the king's road another eleven leagues 'til they came to the White City with the dawn of 7 Cerveth.
By then, the horses were steaming in the summer morn and their breath came fast. The messengers and the captain were yawning, but the sight of the strong walls and the tall Tower of Calimehtar high above blushing pink in the first of the day's sunlight filled them with thanks to be home again.
Together they entered the gates and ascended the circles of the city 'til they came to the barrack and stable in the Sixth Circle. There, Captain Bregolas dismissed his escort and climbed the tunnel to the Court of the Fountain. Rather than seek an official audience, he went to the Royal Residence and made his way to the Steward's apartments. He deemed the hour still early enough. There he rapped on the long familiar door.
His younger sister opened it and a smile of welcome instantly lit her face as she enveloped him in a hug. "Come in, Brego¹, thou art still in time for breakfast! Ewww, thou smell like a horse," she teasingly exclaimed. ¹(Brego, familial shortening of Bregolas, not referring to the future second king of Rohan or the movie-verse horse that Aragorn rides.)
"A good morn to thee too, Finduilas, is father still here?"
"Aye, mother and Hallas as well. We are having pancakes, corned beef hash, and eggs."
He draped an arm o'er her shoulders, chuckling as she squirmed lest she too smell of horse, and walked through the parlor to the dining room where his mother was rising from the table to greet her younger son. The Lord Steward Cirion and his heir, Hallas, Captain of the White Tower, remained seated, but set down their utensils and beckoned him in to join them.
At the doorway, he released Finduilas and bowed to his father and older brother, then accepted the hug from his mother and kissed her cheek. She wrinkled her nose, but led him to his old seat at the table.
"After breakfast, thou shalt bathe," she told him in the tone he knew brooked no argument, adding, "These are civilized parts, not the Wild." He could only nod, for a bath of hot waters to soothe his muscles after a night in the saddle would be welcome.
After lowering his head for several moments of silent thanksgiving, he began loading his plate. As he forked up a helping of the scrambled eggs of hens, his father asked, "What brings thee from thy command to join us this morn, my son?"
"Father, I have received tidings this past night from Sergeant Hador of the Noman-lands outpost. Pengfirion's¹ Rangers have reported back at last," he said. ¹(Pengfirion, Bowman = peng(bow) + firion(mortal man) Sindarin)
The steward nodded and his expression turned grave, but he only said, "Pray enjoy thy breakfast, my son. A long ride thou hast made if thou heard Hador's report only last night. We shall speak of it after thou hast broken thy fast. Hallas, thou shalt attend us."
Bregolas' elder brother nodded, both sons knowing that this was their father's way of saving fell words 'til his wife and daughter were absent lest they o'erhear matters that could prove upsetting to their more delicate feminine constitutions. His wife rolled her eyes, but they took no notice. His daughter merely shook her head, more interested in spending a summer's day taking counsel with her friends o'er gossip and gowns, ballroom dancing and eligible bachelors than eavesdropping on affairs of state.
After Bregolas had eaten his fill of pancakes, hash, and eggs, he followed his father and older brother into the steward's study and there they took chairs.
"Pray tell me now all thou hast heard," Cirion said. "What have Pengfirion's Rangers learnt?"
"Father, they have confirmed the rumors of foes massing on the east side of the forest," the steward's second son said. "Many thousands have gathered towards the south end of Mirkwood. At times 'tis rumored that some pass west through the forest, but their purpose and destination are unknown."
"What is known of these Easterlings?" Hallas asked.
"'Tis said they travel in clans, using horse-drawn wains, but that they are primarily infantry rather than cavalry, having fewer horses than the Wainriders of yore. Their comportment is more brutal and the Rangers estimate that their lands cannot long support so many. They deem they must move or disperse. Alas, no certainty of when has been heard."
"Does Pengfirion believe they are massing to assail Gondor?" Cirion asked, for that was really the question that bore most heavily on him, Steward of the Realm and protector of the people that he was.
"Aye, father. That was their fear. They deem they have little other cause for coming thither."
The steward sighed. Many thousands of Easterling savages had massed on the southeastern borders of Mirkwood, in lands that could not long support their numbers. They had little choice but to attack or disperse. King Thranduil's realm lay in northern Mirkwood, far from the gathering foes and so Gondor was the only realm close by that offered sufficient plunder for a hostile host. Perhaps too there was ancient animosity driving them, or worse, allegiance to a dark lord. Depending on how many thousands they numbered, Gondor's armies could be o'ermastered, at least that portion of them that he could commit in the north, for Umbar and the Haradrim still threatened from the south. Could these new enemies have made alliance with the Southrons? No reports of mass troop movements had been revealed in Harondor, but Cirion had too few eyes and ears in those lands to be sure. What if such potential allies attacked by ship as the Corsairs had done in the reign of Minardil just ere the Great Plague? Gondor would again be hard-pressed. To feel confident, he simply needed more Men.
"I thank thee for thy tidings, my son," Cirion said and Bregolas thought he sounded as if he had aged since breakfast. "I bid thee rest ere returning to Cair Andros. Offer my thanks to Hador and Pengfirion. They are good Men."
With that, he rose and with a nod to Hallas, they took their leave of the steward's apartment and started the day in their official roles as steward and heir. At once, Cirion called for a council of war and met his generals and admirals in the large meeting chamber on the second floor of the tower. There he presented his son's tidings and preparations were debated. At the end of that council, Steward Cirion called for the messengers he favored and laid a grave mission upon them.
"My Lord Steward, thou called for me?" the Errand Rider of Gondor asked when he reported.
"Borondir Udalraph, with one companion I bid thee come swiftly and in secret to Eorl the Young, King of the Éothéod, in Framsburg," the steward ordered. "Thou shalt summon the aid of our allies of old, thy forefather's people, for I fear that war marches upon our borders. A host of Easterlings has been seen amassed in the lands east of Mirkwood, and save for Gondor, there is no place else worthy of assault. Bear hence this Red Arrow. King Eorl shall know it from of old."
"As thou command, my lord," Borondir said. "It shall be good to meet again the people of my grandsires. I shall not fail thee, or Gondor."
'Twas the same conversation the steward had had with two other messengers that morn.
The errand rider took his leave of the steward and at first light on 9 Cerveth, Borondir and a knight of Gondor's cavalry galloped north from Minas Tirith, following on the heels of paired riders who had left on the 7th and 8th. Alas, their journey would be neither swift nor secret, as the steward had ordered, for Borondir and his bodyguard would traverse a land already at war.
For the tenth year in a row, a wolf appeared with the dawn at Norðr-vestandóttir Bý bearing tidings of invaders to the south. Such events had become more frequent o'er time, and by 9 Cerveth of 2509, he had already come thrice that year. Helluin thought back to Urui of 2499, the first time she had ridden to oppose in incursion from Mirkwood by the Scoloti.
By then, the New Riders had been accustomed to the wolves and understood their value as allies. Unlike their kin to the north, they had been taught by and lived amongst Elves, and so they accepted that both animals and plants could offer aid and tidings. Still, they could not hear or speak to such directly.
Just after dawn on 17 Gwirith in 2499, nine-year-old Ælfric¹ son of Eadmundr had rapped on the cabin door, calling out, "Lady Helluin, a wolf craves audience with thee!" ¹(Ælfric, Elf Ruler Old English, possibly the origin of the name Aubrey.)
The Noldo had hastened from her breakfast, swallowing the last of a mouthful of oatmeal. She thanked the youth and saw the wolf lying 'neath the apple trees, his head resting on his forepaws. Helluin recognized him as a nephew of the current alpha. He marked her immediately and his head came up as he met her eyes.
Greetings, bright one, I bear tidings of battle in the south, he said with urgency.
Greetings, grey hunter, pray tell, what goes forth?
Many evil Men came from the forest yesterday. Our cousins to the south saw smoke rising and after some debate, crossed the track to look. The settler we honor took many heads with his axe in defense of his homestead and many more after changing ere he fell. Now those foes that yet live slaughter his milk cows and eat his honey. They have burnt his fields.
Helluin shook her head in sorrow, recalling Bartan son of Gortan, the skin changer she had met with Galadhon in 2053. He had offered them aid and shelter though they had been strangers. Now some descendant of his had been o'erwhelmed by the numbers of his foes and the wolf's tidings incited rage in the Noldo, for Bartan's folk harmed none save when threatened.
Has a guess been made of how many remain? She had asked.
Two score at least whilst 'nigh three score lie dead.
Helluin nodded. The invaders had been a party of 'round a hundred and one settler had taken the greater fraction of them. Do they bear bows? She asked.
Aye, and he was pierced by many arrows, the wolf said.
I thank thee for thy tidings, grey hunter. I shall destroy them.
The southern pack shall aid thee, if thou would have it so, bright one.
Helluin had dipped her head to the wolf and he had taken his leave. An hour later, Helluin, ten Tatyar, and forty riders had galloped south. Two days later, they had stood in the ruins of the settler's yard and counted the dead as they retrieved their arrows. The company from Norðr-vestandóttir Bý had heaped and burnt five score and ten Scoloti. Then they had buried the settler and his family before the burnt remains of their cabin in what had been their yard, marking the graves with blank stones, for they had not known their names. She had hoped some kin would find them one day.
Thereafter, the southern pack had hunted both west and east of the north south track, for no settlers abode any longer in those lands and his livestock had perished as well. In this, Helluin had encouraged the wolves, for to keep a closer watch on the forest. In the decade since, she had ridden south with her troops seventeen times, as the incursions grew more frequent, and now for the eighteenth time a wolf had come bearing tidings.
As aforetime, Helluin took counsel with the wolf whilst Ælfric watched. He was a young rider of nineteen now, but still recalled the first time he had seen this exchange. Today, the wolf's tidings were much the same, yet vastly different.
Greetings, bright one, the wolf said, as in Gwaeron, Lothron, and Nórui, Easterlings have come from the forest. Yestereve they slew a second pair of riders from the south, Men bearing the device of a tree. We have not seen their like aforetime, but the Easterlings set upon them as they have all others. This time, they number seven score and ten.
As aforetime, I thank thee for thy tidings, grey hunter. We ride south at once to destroy them.
As aforetime, the wolf dipped his head and took his leave. This time, Ælfric saw that Helluin was grim, more so than usual. He could not know that the Scoloti had waylaid and slain errand riders sent by the Steward of Gondor, and if they were riding north on the north south track, then they most likely rode for Framsburg. The implications were dire, but first, the current incursion of Easterlings would needs be swiftly suppressed.
As on each prior occasion, the warriors of Norðr-vestandóttir Bý prepared their arms and readied their horses. The war party rode within the hour and ne'er aforetime had they felt such a deadly focus in their leader. They were still 'nigh a hundred miles from battle, and already the Noldo was projecting a dim ril of Light, her teeth clenched and her eyes burning with a subtle blue fire. They rode the first two score miles without pause and the horses were panting when they broke so that they could rest and drink.
"What is it, Helluin? Whyfor thy haste?" Vorsaira asked.
"The Scoloti have slain errand riders of Gondor," Helluin answered, "and if the steward has sent such north, surely 'twas to beg aid from Eorl in Framsburg. This bodes ill, meldir nín, very ill."
After allowing the horses an hour to graze, drink, and rest, the company remounted and continued south. Another score and ten miles passed 'neath the hooves of their steeds ere they broke for a night's rest. By then, the breeze brought whispers from the grass to their ears, Foes, many foes, fire, flames, flee! Flee!
10 Cerveth dawned. After hastily breaking their fasts with waybread and water, the company of Elves and Men resumed their ride. As much as two score miles might lie ahead ere they saw battle, and time was pressing. Only at the last chance would the steward send but one pair of messengers, Helluin thought, or such was the practice in the days of Eärnil. A second pair and mayhap a third should follow and one of them at least must win free to deliver Gondor's plea.
They galloped south through the morn and had come a score and five miles ere they heard shouts and a brief clash of arms, then only the hooves of horses swiftly approaching. Helluin held up a fist and her column came to a halt.
The action exploded into view as a single rider of Gondor came o'er a low hill. His horse was lathered and an expression of terror shaped his features as he galloped towards them. Heartbeats passed as he drew closer, and then the fore ranks of a mob of mounted Easterlings followed, brandishing weapons and shouting taunts at the feeling Dúnadan. At once, Helluin swept her hand forward then drew the black sword and her warriors charged to meet them.
The Noldo cast the Man a glance as he swept past her on his 'nigh exhausted horse. She gave him a nod and a smile, marking his pale hair, and then she, ten Tatyar, and forty New Riders of Norðr-vestandóttir Bý slammed into the disordered ranks of the Easterlings.
Little battle craft, but much ferocity had the Scoloti, and they feared not to close with their suddenly appearing foes. With unskilled brutality, they slashed and stabbed from horseback at the Men and Elves, but many of them fell ere they could close from the thrusts of spears, wielded just as Helluin and the Tatyar had trained the Men of Helrunahlæw to do. A few arrows their archers loosed, but that seemed more a formality than a hazard as their aim was so poor as to be laughable. They had obviously ne'er sought to attain the discipline that only practice could confer. None found a mark, and then the adversaries separated as the companies rode through each other. The half of the Scoloti who survived the initial clash continued north on the track, seemingly more interested in pursuing the lone rider from Gondor than maintaining combat.
Helluin marked that the mounted mob had numbered some two score, but trailing them afoot by two furlongs were at least another five score. Beyond these, a column of smoke rose, as of many cook fires left behind. It seemed that the mixed blood Dúnadan had ridden right past or even through their camp and they had given chase both ahorse and afoot. Whether the steward's messenger had done so in ignorance of their presence, or in desperation to pass through them, the Noldo could not tell.
The footmen Helluin dismissed as too distant a threat ere she made a whirling motion with one arm and her riders swung their horses in pursuit of the mounted chase. As they returned to a gallop, the Noldo sheathed Anguirél and readied her bow. Of her troops, those who had left their spears planted in the bodies of enemies did the same. Soon, growing fainter behind them, the jeers of the running Scoloti attested that they believed they had scared the company of mounted foes to flight. By the Valar, they are dumber than Orcs, Helluin thought, and then she squinted into the dust kicked up by her enemies' hooves and reckoned that she was already in range for her bow.
Now as the track was narrow, the Scoloti rode in a close-packed bunch still numbering about a score. In such a formation, 'twas 'nigh certain that some would ride directly ahead of others. At the fore of the pursuing riders from Norðr-vestandóttir Bý, Helluin drew and brought the back of a foeman to arrow point, and then she loosed, sending a broadhead to flight. Having gained the speed of her charging horse to negate the speed of her target, the arrow crossed the gap in a heartbeat and slammed into the back of a rider bringing up the rear. It exploded from his chest and stuck half its length into the back of the man riding in front of him so that both fell from their saddles. The Tatyar had to leap o'er their bodies as the dead Easterlings' horses continued on, following the rest of their herd.
The chase continued, but having ridden far ere the conflict, the messenger's horse began to tire and his lead on the Scoloti dwindled. Likewise, the riders from Norðr-vestandóttir Bý had already traveled a score and five miles that day and their horses too began to grow weary. They could not gain on the Easterlings.
"Shoot! Shoot them whilst we can still keep pace!" Helluin shouted, as she felt her stallion Beadurof's¹ breathing growing increasingly labored. ¹(Beadurof, Bold in battle Old English)
The Noldo nocked another arrow, but this time, she targeted the foremost of the Scoloti, the Easterling closest and most threatening to the fleeing messenger of Gondor. She drew and held, waiting for a clear shot through the intervening riders, and when it came, she loosed without hesitation. Her broadhead arrow passed a half-dozen foemen so close it 'nigh cut the fabric of their crude garments, but her shot took the leader through the skull, the steel plates riveted to his leather helm providing enough resistance to retain the shaft. When his body tumbled from the saddle, it tripped the horse most closely following him and both that horse and its rider sprawled on the ground. Then in response, the remainder of his company was forced to break stride and jerk aside or leap o'er the fallen, and Helluin saw the Gondorian gain a dozen precious yards.
Helluin and her company dodged the screaming, kicking horse and the two dead foes but moments later. Unlike the Scoloti, they had not had to break from a gallop, and having maintained their gait like the steward's messenger, they too gained a dozen yards on their foes. Now all of the Tatyar and the New Riders were within range with their bows.
O'er the following league, as the whole procession slowed from the fatigue or their horses, the riders from Norðr-vestandóttir Bý managed to shoot down all of the remaining mounted Scoloti. The last fell as he charged with his scimitar raised against the messenger whose horse had finally given up the ghost, leaving the Dúnadan standing o'er its carcass whilst defiantly readying his sword. With the last of his pursuers slain, the Man knelt to close his stallion's eyes and whisper a prayer of thanks for its service. The greathearted horse had run itself to death in its rider's service, for steward and realm, just as it had been bred to do.
"A most noble steed thou rode, Man of Gondor," Helluin said as she dismounted beside him whilst Beadurof hung his head and panted. The Tatyar and the New Riders also dismounted to give their horses a hard-earned respite.
"The best," he said, looking down sadly at his fallen stallion. "They are bred in Lossarnach through many generations, specifically for the steward's Messenger Corps. His name was Aearoch¹. He ne'er gave up." ¹(Aearoch, Sea Horse = aear(sea) + roch(horse) The duplicate r is elided. Sindarin)
"In Aenath hebatha cin, Aearoch brand¹," Helluin whispered, and the Man gave her a grim smile of thanks for the blessing. ¹(In Aenath hebatha cin, Aearoch brand, The Gods will keep thee, noble Sea Horse = in(pl def art, the) + aen(god) -ath(coll pl suff, all gods) + hebi-(v. keep) + -atha-(fut v suff, will keep) + cin(2nd pers sing dir obj, thee) + Aearoch + brand(noble) Sindarin)
After a few moments to regain his composure, the Man bowed and said, "My thanks to thee and thy warriors, for thine aid. I am Borondir of Minas Tirith. Alas, I know not how I shall complete my mission on behalf of the steward, for I have far yet to travel."
Helluin nodded to him and offered, "If thou wouldst abide a short delay, I can offer thee a replacement mount to complete thine errand, Borondir, but first, we must destroy the invaders. I am Helluin Maeg-móremenel and with my companions, came from Norðr-vestandóttir Bý to the north."
Borondir's eyes widened at her declaration and a dozen questions filled his mind, but soldier that he was, he only said, "What aid may I add, for already I owe thee a debt, Lady Helluin."
"'Naught but the completion of thine errand, noble Borondir," Helluin said, then after a moment's thought, added, "I pray thee accompany our Men and horses north and out of sight, for they have come far and are tired. We shall not ride them into battle."
Now his mouth dropped open in shock, for despite being badly outnumbered, she proposed to give up the advantage of meeting footmen whilst mounted. He looked closer at the troops, marking that ten were Elves and forty were Men that looked to be of Northman stock, the same as himself. As he watched, some of the Men gave up their quivers so that each Elf bore two.
"They would still number o'er twice thy count. Surely ye could dispatch many in an opening charge."
"But then, they would see us," she said with a grin.
When she looked 'round, Borondir followed her glance and blinked in surprise. The Men were mounting up, but ten horses stood without riders. The Elves had disappeared into the surrounding terrain with all the skill of Rangers. When he looked back, she too was gone.
A young rider smiled and told him, "Pray choose a horse, for we must be away. Fear not, friend, they shall have the aid of local allies."
Borondir could do not but shrug and mount one of the Elves' horses. Then with the other riders, he trotted north along the track for a mile ere turning off to the west on a barely discernable game trail. Soon, the undulations of the land hid them from the track, and when a rivulet appeared, all dismounted and the horses began to slake their thirst.
During the next hours, Borondir questioned the Men, and particularly the young rider who introduced himself as Ælfric son of Eadmundr.
"Norðr-vestandóttir Bý is still recalled in lore, a famous farm and part of Suꝺriborg that was, but it hath been abandoned for o'er five hundred years, since King Frumgar led the Éothéod to Framsburg," Borondir said, "yet Helluin claimed ye came from there."
"'Tis no longer abandoned, for 'tis my birthplace. We have learnt that Helluin first came in 2003, preceding a sojourn to Gondor," Ælfric told him. "Later, she returned, then the Elves came, and last, my folk, the survivors of an Orc attack on our old village of Helrunahlæw. Our ancestors were amongst those who went not to Framsburg in 1977."
Borondir was about to voice his amazement when a rustling in the grass drew his attention. It resolved into a female wolf leading eight pups of various ages. The Man of Gondor leapt up in alarm and reached for the hilt of his sword, but Ælfric laid a hand on his arm and shook his head 'nay'.
The wolf yawned and lay down, keeping watch on her young charges. She seemed at ease in their company. The other Men from Norðr-vestandóttir Bý acknowledged her with nods and smiles at the pups' antics. Most telling, the tired horses showed no fear. Helluin's mount walked o'er and touched noses with the bitch, then stood by and they looked into each others' eyes as if taking counsel.
Greetings, Beadurof, I am given nursemaid duty this day. How fare thee?
Tired, Modor¹, we have ridden far and given chase. ¹(modor, mother Old English)
So who is this stranger…the excitable one? She cast a quick glance to Borondir who was still eyeing her warily.
He is a messenger from Gondor that we rescued from a mob of savages. Helluin and the Elves have gone to slay the rest. Is thy pack to join them?
Aye, whilst I mind the young, the wolf said in resignation. If the One had meant me to sit out battles, I should have more teats and fewer teeth.
The horse and the wolf chuckled at that.
"We learnt of the foemen from a wolf that came to offer tidings to Helluin at the farm," Ælfric told Borondir, then grinned when the Man sputtered in astonishment. He chuckled and added, "'Tis interesting, living amongst Elves. The whole way here they were remarking on how alarmed the grass was."
Finally, he just shook his head and muttered, "I shall have many tidings to offer the steward."
In the distance, they heard the faint sounds of shouting, screaming, and curses, but no clash of blades.
"Ahhh, it begins," Ælfric said, and Men began eyeing the sun's position and laying wagers. At a questioning glance from the messenger, he explained, "Little coin have I, but would guess two and a half hours 'til all the Scoloti are slain."
Borondir could only shake his head at their comportment and keep an eye on the sun as the time passed. Eventually, he too yawned. Little rest had he taken since riding from the White City and his mind began to wander. Perhaps he dozed a while, though none awakened him.
Alas for Sir Aratan, he thought, recalling his bodyguard, the Knight of Gondor who had given up his life to buy Borondir a short span to flee as the chase began. If chance allowed, I would go back and give him a proper burial. His valor is deserving of honor.
In the distance, a wolf howled and he sat up, looking 'round. The female wolf was on her feet now and money was changing hands. No more did the Easterlings scream or shout battle cries. Only the breeze rustled the tall grass. A glance to the sky revealed Anor two and a half hours further in her arc, westering towards evening. Ælfric might have won a purse, Borondir thought. Then it struck him. In that time, could eleven Elves have truly slaughtered ten times their count of foes? They had each borne 'nigh fifty arrows, so 'twas possible, but still...
The wolf led her pups off into the grass heading south. The horses stood in a group facing east, back towards the north south track. The Men mounted and Borondir joined them as they began to trot. The company reached the track and turned south, back towards the chase and the camp of the Scoloti. After a mile, they saw dead Easterlings lying one after another on the ground, shot aforetime, but the arrows had been removed from their bodies. The last was a pair of Easterlings shortly south of a crushed Man and a dead horse.
Thereafter, they rode a span empty of corpses, but after four furlongs, there lay a few dozen savages, also shot, yet not a one still hosted an arrow in his chilling flesh. Some of the Men repossessed their spears from the bodies of the fallen. O'er the next league, they encountered a dwindling smattering of bodies 'til they finally reached the place of the Scoloti's camp. This comprised an area of flattened grass that lay just east of the north south track. The cook fires still smoldered and the ground was littered with dozens of worsted foes.
To the west of the track, two of the Tatyar were standing before a patch of recently turned earth, mounded slightly as it were a fresh grave. Before them lounged a pack of two dozen adult wolves. Helluin stood silent on the roadbed, gravely addressing a score of Rhûnic horses eye to eye. At the approach of the New Riders, she broke from that council and turned to greet them. Borondir marked that there was not a living enemy to be seen.
The messenger dismounted along with the other Men and Helluin came to him with grim tidings.
"The invaders are all slain, but amongst the bodies in the camp, we came upon a Man of Gondor and by his raiment I deem he was a knight. His corpse had been poorly treated and so we buried him opposite the place of his enemies." She cast a glance to the new grave on the west side of the track.
"My thanks for honoring the fallen, Helluin. His name was Aratan, Knight of Gondor, a valiant Man," Borondir told her, shaking his head in sorrow.
She took from 'neath her gauntlet a necklace on whose golden chain hung a cameo depicting the profile of a maiden with flowers in her hair, carved in cream ivory within its gold frame.
"He bore this and I hoped thou might return it to his family should the chance arise," she told him. "I deem that the foe's haste alone saved it from being plundered. 'Tis his beloved perhaps?"
Borondir took the portrait and held it a moment on his palm. Its return would wring both thanksgiving and sorrow from those who waited at home.
"'Tis an heirloom of his family and depicts his grandmother in her youth. Again, thou hast my thanks."
The Noldo nodded to him and then turned to other topics.
"The Dúnedain of Gondor have long been allies and friends to me and indeed, some are also distant kin. So too, the Men of the Éothéod are my friends and allies of old. Thou art an errand rider of the steward and I would aid thee as I can."
"I am charged to deliver a call for aid to King Eorl in Framsburg," Borondir said. "This I was bid to do in haste and in secret, for the need is urgent and the threat deemed grave. Alas, I fear both haste and secrecy have already suffered. I pray thee loan me a steed to complete my errand and I shall be glad to return it on my way back south."
From 'neath his cloak he revealed a glimpse of the Red Arrow of Gondor whose mid-shaft was encircled by a ring of steel bearing the Seal of the House of Húrin, the stewards of the realm. Unbalanced thus, 'twas ne'er meant to fly from a bow. Helluin nodded and bid him conceal it again.
"Lord Cirion's need must be great to send so grave a plea for aid," she said. "Art thou at liberty to name the enemy?"
Though Borondir shook his head 'nay' and said 'naught, he glanced pointedly to the dead and Helluin nodded in understanding.
"For now, choose any of these liberated steeds from the East. They have abandoned their service to the Scoloti and pledged their allegiance to us, yet I cannot vouch for their training. When we reach Norðr-vestandóttir Bý, thou shalt receive the service of a steed worthy of a son of the North and the West."
To her offer, Borondir could only bow in thanks. As Helluin moved off to speak with the wolves, he began appraising the Rhûnic horses. All in all, he had to admit that it had been the strangest day of his life and 'twas still but mid-afternoon.
In the end, he chose a tall horse with a dappled grey coat. It leered at him as if to say, We well 'nigh ran thee down, stranger, and now thou wouldst ride me? Borondir looked at the saddle it bore and groaned ere releasing the girth strap and flinging it on the ground, retaining only the headstall and reins. The horse looked at him more hopefully. He set his hands on either side at the base of its neck, (rather than grabbing its mane), and then levered himself up ere swinging his leg o'er its back to find his seat. The horse shifted a bit ere stilling as the messenger stroked his neck and softly spoke some words in the rolling tongue of the Éothéod.
"He claims the name Aashif, which signifies 'bold' or 'courageous' in the Eastern tongue," Helluin said as she walked past, "an excellent choice. I see that thou hast rejected the Scoloti saddle."
"I am known as Udalraph, Stirrupless," he said, and it seemed that Aashif grinned and nodded in appreciation.
In the late afternoon of 13 Cerveth, after a ride of two days, the company arrived to a warm welcome at Norðr-vestandóttir Bý. During the ride, Borondir had found Aashif strong, agile, tireless, and dependable. Indeed, he was amazed to discover such a quality mount amongst the horses of Rhûn, for he seemed to lack not in training or temperament. As he curried his new steed he wondered aloud, "How came thee to serve such brutal masters, for unless they are far better with horses than people, I cannot reckon how such came to pass."
Aashif was face first in a manger of lucerne and did not answer, but he appreciated the care the Northman of Gondor provided. After their return to the farm, he had actually been stabled with his own stall and received a bucket of oats. Ne'er had he fed so well. Some conversation he had had with the mounts from Norðr-vestandóttir Bý and found them all fiercely loyal, but also cared for in a measure he had ne'er encountered. During their ride north, he had seen not one incident of abuse from any of the Elves or Men. In his experience, humans were simply not so conscientious. Slowly, he was coming to realize that not all on two legs were as ignorant as his former masters. The Man finished up with the brush, handed him an apple from the trees in the yard, and then took his leave. Aashif looked after him, deep in thought.
That night, Borondir joined Helluin, Ngandáro, Arinya, Eadmundr, and Ælfric in the cabin for the evening meal. He found their practices much the same as those at home, for they began with a time of silent thanksgiving. Thereafter they shared out a varied and plentiful fare of simple farm food. There seemed no pretense amongst them and all spoke their minds freely with no mention of rank or standing.
"Because we are all commoners here," Helluin told him with a grin when he had asked, adding that, "some of us are simply older than others."
To this, he had nodded thankfully. He had e'er found his lord Cirion somewhat intimidating.
"So, thou shalt ride in the morn?" Helluin had asked.
"Aye, with the dawn. Already I feel myself delayed," Borondir answered. The others had nodded in understanding. Duty called him strongly.
"Shalt thou chose a horse from the farm, or shalt thou retain the service of Aashif?" she asked.
"I am honestly impressed with him. Indeed, I wonder how he endured the Scoloti," he said.
"He was born a free horse, impressed into service in his youth, or so he claimed, and I have no reason to doubt his word," Helluin said. "Their treatment garnered little loyalty from him."
"He deserves better and he shall receive it from me," Borondir said. "I shall ride him to Framsburg and if thou would have it so, return him after my errand is done."
"I deem that by then he shall have bonded well with thee," Eadmundr said, "for such is the way with horses when they have a choice."
"Treat him well and ride him to great renown, mellon nín," the Noldo agreed.
"Thou would simply gift me so valuable a horse?" the messenger asked, surprised.
"He is not mine to give or withhold," Helluin said. "I would see him be a rider's partner, not a captive."
"Besides, we have plenty of horses," Eadmundr added, "and now a score more than we had two days past."
"And of those, some will prove able to bear riders well," Ngandáro added, "whilst the rest may become stew or glue."
Borondir looked at the Elf in horror and e'eryone else at the table burst into laughter at his jest.
A bit later, the young rider Ælfric said, "Come, Borondir, dawn breaks early in this season. We shall find thee a bunk in the stockade and provision for thy morrow's ride."
The company bid each other a fair night and took their leave of the cabin. Left alone, Helluin reckoned that on the morrow, she would join the stable hands in checking o'er the new horses to see if any required healing. She deemed that all could use a better diet. Then she gave thought to Gondor's plight and what aid she might bring to the South Kingdom. Later, during the final hours of darkness, she copied out a map of the Vale of Anduin showing the location of Framsburg, the Old Ford, and Norðr-vestandóttir Bý, with indications of regular water sources on the southern portion of the east bank.
In the last of the night, just ere dawn, Helluin came from the cabin to await Borondir's leave-taking. The first light of Anor grew in the east and she saw the Man trudging up the road from the stockade, a look of determination on his face. The Noldo called him o'er and gave him the map, along with counsel on mileage, resting places, and watering holes in the lands she knew well.
As he was thanking her, Galadriel flashed into their presence, causing Borondir to gasp and recoil. Helluin cast a look of surprise to the princess, for she seemed distraught. Ere offering any greeting, her astral projection hastened o'er and sure enough, she was shaking and they marked tears on her cheeks and the creasing of her brow in worry and fear.
"Oh Helluin, I plead thine aid," she wailed, "'tis Celebrían! She hath been taken!"
To Be Continued
Guest: Thanks for another review. They're always appreciated and I'm glad that you're continuing to enjoy the story.
The fourteen Tatyar who join Helluin are representative of those malcontents in every society who disparage the status quo. Being Elves, rather than scrawling slogans on walls, (as humans might), or otherwise opposing persons they revere, they just pick up and leave to find their 'dreams'.
I suspect that you know enough about the history of Third Age Middle Earth to know that some major events are coming up a few decades after where the last chapter ended.
Like any middle management type, the 'loyal and ambitious' Khamûl is quite happy to advance his master's plots. These include periodically sending cadres of Orcs to Dol Guldur as reinforcements, and continuing Sauron's breeding program. The captives, Eärnur and Zôrîphêl, continue their employment in Sauron's castle by the sea.