In An Age Before – Part 275
Chapter One hundred sixty-two
The Steward and the King – The Third Age of the Sun
Author's Notes: Regarding Celebrían's abandonment of the Mortal Shores and her sailing to Valinor in 2510, (the year following her abduction and torment at the hands of the Yrch), canon says only that she was healed physically by Elrond, but was never free of the emotional trauma. She "lost all delight in Middle Earth", and "departed over the Sea from the Havens". I can only assume that the damage to Celebrían's psyche must have been very great for her to forsake, not only Middle Earth, the only home she had ever known, but also Imladris, her beloved husband Elrond, and her children Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen, and her parents, Celeborn and Galadriel.
As we know, (or perhaps not), mental illness is not a static condition. The precipitating trauma is addressed with psychological adaptations and behavioral accommodations, both of which can fester and reinforce each other. This feedback loop, driven by feelings of fear, shame, guilt, self-condemnation, self-loathing, and desperate attempts at denial quickly becomes maladaptive and self-destructive, as well as self-reinforcing. The result is a joyless and hopeless resignation that pervades all aspects of existence in a state of profound depression, at which point the contemplation of suicide is perceived as a valid escape, at least for mortals. For Elves, perhaps other options remain viable.
Regarding the dates, Gondor had been using that calendar called the Steward's Reckoning since Mardil changed it following Eärnur's disappearance, back in T.A. 2060. It used mostly the Quenya names and consisted of twelve equal length months of 30 days each, plus five (or six during leap years) festival days. In this story, I am using Steward's Reckoning for dates amongst the Gondorim. Until the founding of Rohan and their increased association with Gondorian culture, the Éothéod used the older King's Reckoning with Sindarin names for the months. King's Reckoning is also used by the Elves for a while longer in this story, though apparently the Steward's Reckoning was eventually adopted in most places where Westron, the Common Tongue, was spoken, (except in Sûza where the local Shire Reckoning prevailed). This persisted until T.A. 3019, following the War of the Ring, when the New Reckoning was instituted in the Reunited Kingdom.
Regarding the setting in the previous chapters. I belated realized that my departure from canon was worthy of explanation. Canon says that Celebrían's abduction and torture took place as she transited the Misty Mountains over the Redhorn Pass on her way to Lothlórien. I believe I had even included a reference to that in a past chapter. When it came time to write Part 273 though, I had to change to the non-canon setting of the High Pass. Why?
The High Pass lies just east of the Hidden Valley, far more accessible to those coming from Imladris than the Caradhras Pass over Moria. Second, the Elves historically used both passes, but after T.A. 1980, I feel that the Redhorn Pass would have been shunned for safety's sake. Durin's Bane, (whatever it was), had driven Durin's Folk from their ancient home of Khazad-dûm. To do so, it must have been terrible, for the Dwarves were many, well armed, and fell. Afterwards, the Elves no longer had friends guarding the pass and holding the land around it, and being beyond the forest, Nanduhirion was not under Elvish control. The Pass of Caradhras was debated land, closely hedged by a nameless horror and the suspected presence of Orcs.
Another factor is that by going over the High Pass, which had been graded and improved aforetime for the passage of the Army of the Last Alliance, riding horses would have been easier for a sizable mounted company. The road descending eastward from the High Pass connected directly with the Dwarf Road leading south all the way to Khazad-dûm, (and originally beyond). A detour would have been required at the Gladded Fields after the bridge over the Ninglor was broken, but that route had been known by then for centuries.
Furthermore, if Celebrían had been taken as a captive from the Redhorn Pass, she would almost certainly have been taken to Moria, right next door. That place was so vast, and it was unknown to the sons of Elrond so far as I have ever heard, that I doubt they could have found their mother there, much less rescued her and made a clean escape while hampered by a badly wounded captive.
So I chose to have Celebrían's party assailed and her abduction take place in the High Pass. It also helps explain why Elladan and Elrohir were close enough to rescue their mother quickly, rather than the rescuers being from Lothlórien, (say Haldir and/or his brothers), since they would have been far closer to the Redhorn Pass than anyone coming from Rivendell.
I have added these notes to this chapter for those who are following the story as each update is posted. For those who came new to the story later, I have also added these notes at the head of Part 273.
Now in 2507 there had come to Scoliosis, the Scoloti chieftain, a company of Yrch numbering a dozen. They had walked out of the forest into his East Bight camp, arriving in the dead of night. Their leader, who claimed the name Krumakal¹, had mockingly feigned respect as he sketched a bow and demanded that the chieftain attend him, for he bore a message from the master. ¹(Krumakal, Back Stabber = krum(back) + ak-(v. stab) + -al(n. from v. suff, stabber) Orkish)
"Father, a messenger for thee," called the chieftain's son through the canvas wall of a wain whence came a woman's rhythmic choking, sobbing, the impact of a sharp blow, and then lustful grunting.
Scoliosis had eventually come forth whilst reaffixing his codpiece, taken one look at the Orch, and then decked him with a fist half the size of his head. The Orc company had stepped forward to avenge him, but found themselves facing thrice their count of leering savages just as bloodthirsty as themselves. Krumakal had regained his feet, laughed, and then spat a mouthful of blood at the chieftain's feet. E'eryone relaxed.
"My little woman set me in a rutting mood," Scoliosis chuckled conspiratorially to explain the violence of his greeting. "What words from the master?" he asked, dreading whate'er the meat suit might have to say.
"The Lord of Flesh and Bone invites thee to attend him at Kodarob-dush¹," the Orc said with gloating mien, knowing that Scoliosis could not refuse. "We are sent to escort thee thither." ¹(Kodarob-dush, Hill of Sorcery = kodar(hill) + -ob(prep. of) + dush(sorcery) Orkish equiv. of Sindarin Dol Guldur.)
'Twas the absolute last place the Scoloti chieftain wished to go. O'er the years, no few Men of his clan and the other allied clans had been invited to the Hill of Sorcery to serve the master. None had e'er been seen again. Scoliosis could only nod his assent and go to don his weapons. He left the camp 'neath the command of his son, (bidding the younger Man to, "go finish up with thy dam for me,"), thereby insuring the succession lest he not return, and after picking a number of warriors equal to the Yrch company to march with him, rejoined the Orch.
"Lead on," he said eyeing the creature with undisguised loathing as it offered another mocking bow.
The companies arrived at Dol Guldur on the second day, the Yrch numbering eight and the remaining Men, nine, (though one died shortly after arrival). The survivors of both companies had been left in Dakogug Hajât, (the Disemboweling Hall). Within minutes, they were brawling.
Krumakal brought Scoliosis to the throne room in the tower personally, lest he be accused of shirking his duty. There they were confronted by the master and afflicted with o'erwhelming dread. From the stench and decomposition of his meat suit, they deemed that the remaining members of their companies were doomed to become replacement parts. Corpse juices leaked from his seat on the throne and trickled 'cross the dais. They traded glances of resignation and then bowed to the master.
"Well done, O Krumakal, thy first errand is completed. Pray remain to escort our guest back to his people. Welcome, O Scoliosis, Chieftain of the Scoloti. I have need of thy favor," said Sauron. His smile of greeting was blood curdling, but both leaders were filled with relief, for now they knew that they would survive this encounter.
"Command me, master," said Scoliosis, though the words felt like gravel in his throat as he spoke them.
"I bid thee gather thy people. Soon, I would that my allies march to war, for I shall arrange the coming of thine enemies, the Westmen of Gondor, who shall ride to their slaughter at thy hands," the meat suit declared. "Once defeated, their fair lands shall be thine to hold. Rape and pillage I leave to thee, for they are a victor's due."
At first, Scoliosis could but stare at the master, his mouth agape in shock. Then he recalled himself and bowed low, saying, "Master, I shall bring ten thousands to conquer in thy name," though none of them knew the master's true name and would not have dared to utter it if they had.
"Gather them to the southeast of the forest," the meat suit said, "and thine enemies shall quake in fear at the rumor of thy host. When they see thee move to cross the river, they shall come against thee, but their numbers shall be insufficient and thy victory shall follow."
"I shall not fail thee, my master," Scoliosis declared. Sauron nodded in approval, for he had heard the same oft enough aforetime.
The subtleties of Gorthaur's plans would have been lost on the chieftain. The master gave him no more than a half chance of actually prevailing in battle, but his assault would weaken Gondor further and that was all that truly mattered. The South Kingdom's demise would come long after Scoliosis and all his people were dust in their graves. Like the Wainriders, they were of use only for the contributions they could make during their lives, and Sauron was willing to wage a war 'cross thousands of years, for he could wait and his triumph would taste all the sweeter for it.
"Recover thy troops and make thy way back to thy homelands, O Scoliosis, Chieftain of the Scoloti. There is much work to do," the master said.
Scoliosis and Krumakal bowed and fled the throne room as if chased by a carpet of rabid ferrets. When they came to Dakogug Hajât, they each found six living warriors remaining from their companies. These stayed their brawling when the doors opened and they saw their commanders standing before them. T'would hath been a toss up to reckon who was more astonished; the troops that their commanders had survived their audience before the master, or the commanders that their troops had not been slaughtered during their absence.
The Orch and the Easterling each whacked a few heads to restore order, browbeat the rest into submission, and then took their leave of Kodarob-dush with the prudent haste of self-preservation. Neither recognized that they were more akin in spirit than not. T'would hath been a toss up to reckon which party was more thankful and relieved to be on their way.
On the second day after leaving Dol Guldur, the Scoloti and the Yrch walked into the East Bight. By then, having survived and traveled together, it seemed that the remnants of the two companies had set their differences aside. They were civil to each other and traded speech as they marched east through the trees. When they came to Scoliosis' encampment, the Yrch were invited to partake of a feast to celebrate their return ere they set to work mustering their people. E'er eager to gorge, Krumakal and his six companions happily agreed.
As the Yrch watched, a butcher hewed the head from an aged nag and set about spitting its body parts o'er a roaring bonfire. All partook of the abundant, bitter mead, vile but potent, and the revels were well underway ere the meat was deemed done and removed from the fire.
Scoliosis brought a full leg to the Yrch. He took a great bite of the scorched flesh, chewed and smiled, and with a sudden o'er head swing, brought the thigh end down on Krumakal's head. The blow was so vicious that his skull caved in flat and his eyes exploded from their sockets. The ominously named 'Back Stabber' had been himself stabbed in the back. The Scoloti then fell upon the remaining Yrch, and after beating them to death, heaved their lifeless bodies into the fire.
"Fallen brothers, ye are avenged!" Scoliosis screamed to the night sky as his people cheered, for six of their warriors had died on the trip to Kodarob-dush.
O'er the next two years, Scoliosis sent messengers to the neighboring clans, and they passed his words on to clans further east. The dark master in Kodarob-dush had promised to deliver their hated Westmen enemies to slaughter and none of them could resist the opportunity for plunder and expansion. Joyously, they marched west.
By the late summer of 2509, hundreds of wains had gathered to the southeast of Mirkwood, from north of the East Bight down to the southern border. There, a fraction of them were marked by Rangers of Gondor and their spies, and their numbers were reported to the steward. At that time, seven thousands were encamped, and had they attacked immediately, they might have gained the victory ere Gondor could prepare to repel them. But Scoliosis had promised the meat suit ten thousands and he would not dare to fail of his claims, and so they waited.
The winter of 2509-10 passed with great privation. The lands, ne'er bountiful to begin with, grew increasingly o'ertaxed supporting so many and starvation culled the weakest. The young, the old, and the infirm died in numbers unseen since the Great Plague. The clan chieftains deemed the losses did 'naught but make their host stronger as the weakest were shed. Those not able to bear weapons were expendable, for their people prepared to wage war. Slaves and wives could be replaced with prisoners. Children would be born and perhaps survive when times were better. And for the Men of Darkness, old age came all too soon. Elders had e'er been a burden.
Spring finally came and ere they could lose warriors and horses, (though many of the latter had been butchered during the winter), the host began to move. South and west from the verge of the forest they marched. 'Cross the flatlands they drew their wains and made their traveling camps. The Ranger scouts counted their numbers and withdrew. Alarming new reports came to Steward Cirion.
When their leading companies reached the banks of the Anduin in the last third of Gwaeron, they chopped down e'ery tree and began building rafts. With so many hands, the work went swiftly. Those who rode would cross at the South Undeep. Those afoot would ride the rafts 'twixt the South Downs of the Brown Lands and the Wold of northern Gondor, for the river's level was still higher after the spring rains than t'would become in summer.
On the eastern bank would remain an encampment of many hundreds of wains bearing the surviving aged, women, children, and any others unfit for war. They would not participate in the invasion 'til after the field was decided, but they would hold open the avenue of retreat should things go poorly.
On 27 Gwaeron, the Scoloti began crossing Anduin. Their cavalry forded the South Undeep and created a defensive perimeter for the landing. The rafts made the first of many required trips and their footmen began arriving on the west bank where they settled into an encampment.
By the Steward's Reckoning, that day was 27 Súlimë, the fifth day of the steward's march from Minas Tirith. On that day, Steward Cirion, accompanied by eight hundred Knights of Gondor, two thousand foot soldiers, and four hundred Rangers, broke camp midway 'twixt the beacon hills of Nardol and Erelas in the first hour past dawn. They were following the Great West Road with a vanguard of two hundred knights riding so far as a league ahead, and the Rangers fanning out to guard the army's northern flank up to a mile beyond the road. Thus far, the infantry companies had been marching for nine hours, (including breaks), with the long strides of the Dúnedain making a score and five miles each day. That morn, Írensaga lay two hundred fifty miles ahead, ten more days.
For the Scoloti, who had been born and then spent all their lives in the dry lands of western Rhûn, the rafts proved treacherous, cumbersome, and barely controllable. Being by nature about as treacherous, cumbersome, and barely controllable a type of watercraft as exist, the Easterlings struggled to cross Anduin. They fought the current, drifted downstream, struck submerged rocks, or got beached midstream on shoals. Some spun or capsized outright, whilst others, unstable 'neath the shifting feet of too many panicking Scoloti, only shed a warrior or two, leaving these flailing and floating downstream where they invariably drowned, for not a Man in that host could swim.
As only one in fifteen of the Scoloti host rode, o'er nine thousand three hundred fifty were left to cross Anduin on rafts. Of these, a couple hundred drowned and the remainder required five full days to cross the river. Scoliosis was furious at the delay, but on 1 Gwirith, (in the old King's Reckoning), all of his host stood on the west bank, proud invaders in the realm of Gondor at last.
That day was called Tuilérë in the Steward's Reckoning, the second of five, (or sometimes six), days added to a calendar of a dozen, thirty-day months. On that day, Cirion and his army were on the ninth day of their march from Minas Tirith. By evening, they had covered two hundred twenty-five miles and again encamped 'neath a beacon hill. All but six soldiers from the garrison joined their ranks, leaving three pairs to attend the beacon in three shifts per day. They were still five days out from Írensaga.
Now on 23 Súlimë, Sergeant Hador had returned to his outpost in the Noman-lands. He was exhausted, having ridden 'nigh two hundred forty miles roundtrip in four days. There he heard updated reports from a company of Ranger scouts and groaned. They bore a revised estimate of the troop strength of the Balchoth host, for these were all now gathered on the eastern bank of Anduin, finally visible in one place and at one time from higher ground.
"Sergeant, we have marked the arrival of seemingly endless companies," the Ranger scout said, "and by our best reckoning, now deem ten thousands readying their rafts to cross Anduin."
"Ten thousands?" Hador said in astonishment. "I thought their numbers no more than seven thousands at most. What happened?"
"They number ten thousands at least," said the chagrined Ranger. "By the words of our spies and our own observations of the lands southeast of Mirkwood, seven thousands appeared a likely count, and that an extrapolation from those actually seen encamped. We can only surmise that their camps extended much further to the north than expected. 'Tis also possible that troops continued to arrive after the spies fell silent." He shrugged helplessly, knowing that the balance of power had changed. The Northern Army would be sorely outnumbered in battle.
Hador shook his head and then stared into space for some moments. With a few minutes' peace, he would likely doze off. Finally, he shook himself awake.
Through the haze of his fatigue, he said, "I thank thee for thy tidings, my friend. Truth is better heard late than ne'er. I must return to Cair Andros. Lord Captain Bregolas must hear of this."
The Ranger hung his head and said, "I am sorry, Hador. Would that we had known sooner. Thou hast only just returned and shalt fall asleep in the saddle. Canst thou not send a messenger? Perhaps I should go in thy stead?"
"I need thee to maintain the watch on the lands north lest any of that host turn south to threaten Ithilien," Hador said, and then yawned.
The Ranger regarded him closely and finally asked, "And what of thee? What orders from the captain?"
Sergeant Hador groaned aloud and told his friend, "We are to maintain the watch here 'til the Balchoth have crossed Anduin and then withdraw to reinforce the garrison at Cair Andros."
"Then thy presence is required hither to command the withdrawal. That may come any day now as we know not how swiftly they shall cross," the Ranger reasoned. "Though 'tis not my place to do more than advise thee, I implore thee, my friend, delegate this duty and send a messenger. Take a night's rest to recover, and then resume thy command."
Through drooping lids, Hador finally nodded his assent. Tired as he was, he might take a wrong turn in his sleep and awaken staring at the Morannon.
"I shall detail one to ride in haste to Cair Andros. I thank thee for thy counsel, my friend."
The Ranger nodded and offered him a smile, then rose and bowed ere taking his leave. Behind him, Hador struggled to his feet and followed him out to find a messenger. The soldier he chose left only a quarter hour later, but already Hador had returned to his office and fallen asleep in his chair.
Now that soldier, Borax was his name, rode through the night and into the following morn, and he arrived at the citadel of Cair Andros after twelve hours, having exhausted two horses. There he sought audience with Captain Bregolas and conveyed his tidings. Borax was nervous, for he knew Bregolas was not only the captain commander of the garrison and citadel, but also the younger son of the steward of the realm. And his tidings left the officer horrified. The young lord barely thanked him and bid him rest from his ride ere hastening off to the stables. Then he was gone and 'twas barely past breakfast on 24 Súlimë.
Captain Bregolas arrived at the Hall of Kings in Minas Tirith two hours ere midnight and immediately demanded an audience with his elder brother, the Steward's Heir Hallas.
"Brego, how came thee hither so soon? Or hast thou even left the city at all?" Hallas asked as he wrapped his haggard brother in a hug. Bregolas had only ridden from Minas Tirith on the morn of the 23rd, and like Hador, he had barely returned to his command ere riding out again.
"Brother, I am returned in utmost haste. I was back at the citadel scarcely long enough to pee ere a messenger came from the Noman-lands garrison with urgent tidings from Hador's Rangers. My butt protests all my time in the saddle of late."
Hallas chuckled, but he marked the worry in his little brother's eyes and bid him speak.
"As we stand here, ten thousands are crossing Anduin, Hallas," Bregolas said, "and father must be warned. He shall need more troops."
"The Balchoth are so many? Truly?" Hallas asked in astonishment. "We had heard they were no more than seven thousands, mostly afoot."
"As had we," said Bregolas, "yet the Rangers were finally able to lay eyes on their entire host and make an accurate count. They are still afoot for the most part, but their numbers alone pose the threat."
Hallas groaned and took a deep breath, already reviewing what troops he might send to their father's aid. The only ones that he deemed could reach him in time would be cavalry, for though the steward was gone but two days from the city, t'would take time to muster reinforcements ere they could take to the road in pursuit. By dawn of 25 Súlimë, his orders would be on their way to Pelargir, Ithilien, and Linhir. Knights coming from further would take too long. Still, he reckoned that another thousand and a half could be gathered and dispatched from Minas Tirith by 30 Súlimë. By then, they would then be seven days and one hundred seventy-five miles behind the steward.
"I shall do what I can, brother, be assured of that," Hallas finally said.
"We can none of us do more," Bregolas agreed.
Now on 3 Gwaeron, Helluin had crossed Anduin at the Old Ford. At Galadriel's behest, she was returning to Norðr-vestandóttir Bý, for her rampage against the Uruks in the Hithaeglir had become unrewarding. After slaying 'round a thousand of the creatures in their dens, she felt that a good beginning had been made in avenging Celebrían's suffering, but such causes were open-ended and could ne'er truly find definitive satisfaction.
Along the way, Helluin pondered what she would find at the farm. It had been three seasons since she had ridden Dúrochil to rescue Celebrían, and the last days before had seen her small 'army' destroy an incursion of Scoloti and rescue the errand rider of Gondor. She hoped that Borondir had completed his mission to Framsburg, though in truth she had thought little about him since leaving him behind on the north south track. She was more concerned about any subsequent invasions of Easterlings and any inroads they may have made in the south. Only the knowledge that her warriors were well trained and highly capable calmed her anxieties. Still, she hastened her steps.
On the 16th, the Noldo walked through the ungated fence and 'round the hillock to find all things appearing normal at Norðr-vestandóttir Bý. The mortals and Elves went about their labors in accustomed fashion. The crops seemed to be growing as expected, the animals appeared to be calm, and the warriors were training. No alarms came with the whispers of the grasses or the leaves of trees. When she reached the first homesteads, people waved and called out greetings.
Beadurof and several others of the warhorses cantered up and offered greetings.
Helluin, we are gladdened at thy return, the stallion said, thou hast been long away.
Indeed so, my friend, and I am glad to be back, she replied, are all things in order here?
They are and we have not ridden out since our last battle together. After Cerveth last, we have been at peace.
That is good tidings, Beadurof. I had been concerned. So, no word from the Wolves?
Nay, we have not seen them since the past summer, though Ngandáro, Marhrondo, and Ránehen provided them some goats during Girithron and Narwain.
Helluin nodded in approval that the treaty 'twixt the farm and Wolves had been honored during the harshest months of winter.
How fare the New Riders and their people? She asked the stallion.
Three young ones have begun their training in riding and warfare. The farmers found a comb abuilding amongst the nut trees and constructed a new hive that the bees moved to in the autumn, and there safely passed the winter. They also replaced the thatching on the barn and the byre after the last harvest, and they have enlarged the smokehouse.
I am very glad to hear that things have been going well, my friend. Is there 'aught else of concern that I should hear? Helluin asked. She marked that the horses looked uncomfortably 'twixt themselves ere deferring to Beadurof to continue as their spokesperson. She raised a brow in question, bidding him say his rede.
We do not wish our concerns to be misunderstood, he began, to which Helluin groaned silently to herself, howe'er there are simply more of us now than in years past and the stables grow crowded. With the added Easterlings and eight foals last summer, and another seven expected in a few months, we suggest that the stables be expanded to accommodate another forty stalls.
His request seemed wholly reasonable and Helluin nodded in agreement. With the number of available hands on the farm, the project could be accomplished easily enough during the coming warm months. She was about to speak when Beadurof continued.
Of late, the Men of Helrunahlæw have begun the cultivation of hops, he said, after the discovery of which last autumn they have taken to brewing the most delicious beers. We believe the drink to be both healthful and fortifying and would enjoy having a bucket or two at times of celebration, as seems to be the custom amongst the riders.
I see, said Helluin, trying very hard not to roll her eyes. I shall leave the adjudication of that request to the riders and farmers who are engaged in the brewing. Ere they could protest that the mortals could not speak with them directly, she said, I must next hear any reports from the Tatyar, and then discuss the expansion of the stables. I hope ye resolve your request favorably.
The Noldo hastened away and found Ngandáro, Arinya, and the others waiting to welcome her home. They had been speaking for only a short time when a cow approached, leaned into Helluin's side, and stood waiting to be noticed. Being as she stood well 'nigh to the Noldo's shoulder, she was difficult to ignore. Finally, Helluin turned to acknowledge her.
Gladhol¹, what concern hast thou? Helluin asked, curious. ¹(Gladhol, Laughing = gladho-(v. laugh) + -l(act pres part suff, laughing) Sindarin)
The Laughing Cow batted her eyelashes coquettishly ere presenting her rede.
'Tis a concern of we cows, and I believe that I speak also for the sheep in this, she declared, but it hath come to our attention by o'erhearing the horses that the Men of Helrunahlæw are engaged in the brewing of some most delicious beers. We believe the drink to be both healthful and fortifying and would enjoy having a bucket or two at times of celebration, as seems to be the custom amongst the riders. Perhaps it shall also inspire our udders to greater productivity.
I see, said Helluin, resisting the urge to throw up her hands and stalk off to her cabin. Indeed Beadurof raised the same concern, (well 'nigh word for word, she thought), and as I told him, 'tis 'twixt ye and the brewers whose efforts are engaged in this recent production of which I knew 'naught 'til but moments ago. I have no opinion in the matter as yet, though I must ask, shall I also be hearing like concerns from the chickens?
Gladhol regarded her with the slightest expression of disappointment, immediately making the Noldo feel guilty, but finally she nodded to herself and said, we shall allow thee time to acquaint thyself with the brewing and to form an opinion. And aye, I believe the chickens shall petition thee in like manner, for they seem to love the beer greatly.
I see, said Helluin, making a note to tour the farm forthwith and question those Men involved in this new industry. She marked the Tatyar snickering behind their hands and groaned. For a moment, she wished she had remained in the mountains, Yrch of no.
"Helluin, what of the Lady Celebrían?" asked Ránehen whilst attempting to rein in his mirth.
"I saw her last in Cerveth, at which time her recover had only just begun," she said. "More recently, I spoke to her mother who holds hope for her cure. More than that, I cannot say."
"She was rescued and survived then," Lirulin said with relief, and Helluin answered her with a nod 'aye'.
"So, pray tell me of this 'brewing of some most delicious beers' with which the livestock seem universally concerned," Helluin asked of the gathered Elves, "or better yet, show me."
They went on a tour of the recently developed industry and the Noldo was impressed. A sizable addition and a second story had been built onto the bakery, for both crafts encompassed the processing of grain with heat and used the same yeast. The brewery seemed to be thriving and the half-dozen Northmen involved in the production appeared quite enthusiastic.
Upon entering the establishment, they were struck by currents of warm air and the scent of yeast. There were both open, double walled wooden vats being heated with a grain mash that required constant stirring to create wort, and fermentation vessels closed with tight fitting wooden lids and sealed with beeswax. Towards the end of the heating cycle, some crushed hops were added and afterwards the vat was chilled using cold water pumped from the river into the vat's surrounding jacket. Once cooled, yeast was introduced to the wort to induce fermentation. The mixture was then sealed up in barrels and allowed to rest.
On the floor above the brewery, barley was being malted in preparation to make the mash. Carefully cleaned kernels were soaked and then allowed to germinate. Once the growth reached a desirable stage with roots and a sprout, the grain was force dried, turnout out in a thin layer on the warm floor above the bakery, repeatedly raked to hasten drying, and finally kilned by heating in trays above the bakers' ovens. After the moisture level was sufficiently reduced, the malted barley was rich in simple starches and sugars and ready for the brewing process.
The Bēorlārēow¹, a stout farmer with a ruddy complexion and a permanent smile named Sidroc, provided them with a tour encompassing endless commentary and samples of his product at the end. ¹(Bēorlārēow, Brew Master (lit. Beer Teacher) = bēor(beer) + lārēow(teacher/master) Old English)
Helluin found the flavor rich and full, the residual sweetness of the mash countered by the bitterness of the hops. The color was dark from the kilning of the malt, the body a bit cloudy, and the head of foam, long-lived and dense.
"'Tis quite a tasty brew thou hast created, Sidroc, very pleasing indeed, and I am not at all surprised that the horses, cows, sheep, and chickens long to partake of it," Helluin said, eliciting a look of shock from the brewer. "I commend thee on thy success."
Sidroc sputtered a while, but finally managed to say, "The horses, the cows, the sheep…?"
"So they said when they beseeched me to intercede on their behalf," said Helluin. "And forget not the chickens, my friend, for I am sure they have not forgotten thee."
The brewer looked bewildered, for the conversation had become too weird for his comfort.
"They have said 'naught to me…" he muttered, as if they e'er did.
"Alas, they could not wait to present me with their rede. As I told them, I leave the decision to thee, good Sidroc, for 'tis thy labor and thy product, though I suppose it could do little ill and reap much goodwill should thou choose to indulge them."
They left him sitting on a barrel looking befuddled. As Helluin returned to her cabin at last, she marked the horses, cows, several sheep, and a flock of chickens eyeing her with expectations. She gave them a restrained grin and then shut herself inside her home for the remainder of the afternoon.
The life of a farmer is fraught with uncertainty and the weather seemingly the least of it, she mused to herself as she baked some flatbread and stirred a small pot of soup for her supper.
Now whilst the times in Gondor were permeated with anxiety and the days in Framsburg passed with celebrations and at least the appearance of joyous anticipation of battle, life in Imladris was simply dismal for the Lord Elrond. Despite his best efforts, and the loving attentions of his sons and daughter, Celebrían remained morose. Despite Galadriel's stated hopes for her recovery, the Lady of Rivendell was far from growing in health. The experience of her abduction and captivity had festered from the horror and helplessness she had felt, and atop those feelings was her guilt at being the sole survivor of the traveling party that had been slaughtered in her defense.
'Twas not merely the memory of the scenes she had lived through, nor even the fear she had felt. 'Twas the feelings and the mechanisms for coping with them that compounded her dis-ease, for Celebrían knew in her heart that she was sick in spirit. Her beloved husband was discovering this for himself through a series of upsetting incidents that he strove to apprehend. There were aspects of self-punishment and a self-imposed return to her torments that at first baffled even her. Understanding her growing compulsions eventually became as traumatizing as the behaviors themselves.
In the month of Urui, on the night of the new moon when Ithil's face is dark, Celebrían slipped out of the house and made her way to the stables. Though wide-awake and fully aware of her actions, they were dictated by a feeling of compulsion so strong that she had no resources to resist it. Acting out the revisitation of her torment was imperative.
When she arrived, she sought the muck pen, a low-walled receptacle much like a compost bin in which the dung of the horses and such soiled straw as was swept from the stalls was collected. There, in the scant light of the stars, she disrobed and climbed the fencing, and there she began to dig. O'er the course of the night, she excavated a hole wherein she sat, and then she began to draw up the dung and fouled straw so that it covered her body to the shoulders. By then, she was acting without conscious thought, driven thrall-like by the imperatives of her compulsion.
A stable hand discovered her thus the following morn, hours after a search for her had commenced. She was buried to the neck, silent, eyes tightly shut, and tears streaming down her face. The horrified stable hand hastily penned a message to his lord and then began to dig her out.
Elrond arrived and immediately gave thanks that the message had bid him speak not to his children, but to immediately come alone. The sight of his beloved wife still half-buried in the muck broke his heart. He felt as if he had been punched in the gut as he sank to his knees and tears of sorrow ran down his face. Whatsoe'er progress he had perceived in his wife's condition had been a sham. Not only was the original trauma still present and undiminished, but aberrant coping behaviors had begun to manifest. He deemed that, driven by her survivor's guilt, she had reinflicted her torment on herself as a kind of penance for the salvation she felt she did not deserve.
He dismissed the stable hand with sincere thanks for his circumspection, and knelt in the muck where he held his wife 'til her sobbing ceased. Then he dug her out with his bare hands, his heart breaking anew each time his fingers touched her body and she flinched away in revulsion.
Celebrían was still not herself when she was brought back to the house. She remained unresponsive as if she were a wight whilst Elrond bathed her of the filth in which she had interred herself.
'Twas not 'til the next morn, when she awoke in her own bed, that she told her husband, "Dark was my night wherein I wandered the paths, drawn irresistibly forward. 'Twas very strange. I finally bethought myself back in time, even to the place of my captivity, but I see 'tis not so. Shall we break our fasts this morn, my love? I feel an uncommon hunger." She seemed to have no memory of her 'fugue', but her hungers were indeed uncommon and soon to grow more so.
Elrond was undecided o'er what course her treatment should follow. Candor about her condition dictated that he inform her of her actions so that she might confront her emotional daemons lest they multiply, but he was also worried that to do so would birth new traumas because her condition was already so delicate. In the end, he remained silent, simply glad to have his wife seemingly returned to herself, and he prayed to the Valar that the stable hand would speak not of his discovery, for t'would destroy their children.
For the following lunar month, Celebrían's therapy appeared productive. Elrond truly believed that she was making progress, for she engaged with her family and friends and resumed many of her duties as lady of the realm. But when a month had come and gone and the new moon's phase again darkened the night sky, Celebrían slipped away from the house in the dead of night.
'Twas Ivanneth now, and on that night, she repeated her actions of the month before. She was again found the following morn in the muck pen, naked and buried to her neck in dung and soiled straw. Alas, this time 'twas not the stable hand with his respectful decorum who discovered her, but rather a pair of ellith preparing for a day of riding in the valley to take in the autumn colors. At first aghast at the sight, they soon took to tittering and giggling 'twixt themselves, and in predictable fashion, eventually whispered of their discovery for to increase their notoriety amongst their peers. They gave little thought to the harm they did their lord and his family, for in truth they were rather shallow and valued only the titillation they themselves felt o'er so sordid a discovery. Besides, they rationalized, their people had a right to know.
Predictably, the rumors spread swiftly and in little time came to the ears of Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen. They were confused and heartbroken, for they loved their mother and saw her spirit dimming as the knowledge of her behavior became fodder for gossip throughout the Hidden Valley.
Celebrían increasingly withdrew during that autumn, for she came to dread the looks of well-intentioned sympathy thinly veiling condescending pity, the forced and self-conscious deference, and the whispering behind the hands of others who passed her in the halls or on the garden paths. 'Twas as if they thought that because she was tormented, she could not hear them. Of course, she could, just as she e'er had. Now she marked that some watched her like vultures, as if in hope of witnessing some lewd faux pas, so to revel in her further degradation. The servants seemed nervous in her presence, as if with an ill-considered word or glance, they might precipitate some episode of outrageous behavior. And though none yet dared to express overt ridicule to her, she felt that it lurked just 'neath the surface, and that suspicion increased her anxiety to the point of avoidance.
As Elrond had feared, the spreading knowledge of his wife's symptoms and her perception that her illness was now cause for idle and unsympathetic speculation worsened her already failing well-being. Aforetime she had been racked with guilt, being the sole survivor of a company of friends that had died on her behalf. Now to that burden was added the guilt for the heartbreak she was causing her husband and her children. By association, they too became the subjects of rumors and salacious suppositions. With each day, the tension that Celebrían felt was growing heavier and becoming more difficult to bear.
Because of her increased anxiety, she had little capacity for rest and Elrond prescribed a strong tea fortified with the pressed juice of fresh Valerian roots to be taken nightly. She accepted this with good nature and did find some surcease of the worst pangs of her guilt, though by dawn, the effects had worn off.
Another month passed, but when the new moon of Narbeleth approached, the Peredhel resolved to avoid any repeat of the past months' occurrences of self-abuse. He would not allow his wife to further demean herself, nor provide additional heartbreak to their children. She would not again be discovered in so compromising a condition.
Unlike Elu Thingol of Doriath in the Elder Days, Elrond Peredhel had no flet atop a tall beech tree in which to sequester Celebrían, as King Grey Mantle had once detained his fair daughter Lúthien. The Hidden Valley had no underground prison cells, as did King Thranduil's halls in the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood. Nor did Elrond feel there was wisdom in attempting to cure a fear of captivity with yet further incarceration. Indeed, he was loath to constrain Celebrían in any manner, yet what choice had he to stave off further self-inflicted harm?
So the healer of Imladris made his preparations for that night. He crushed the fresh roots of Valerian and concentrated the juices into a strong extract, having evaporated the water content to a tenth part its original volume. Elrond then had a supper prepared, chicken breast roasted with a crust of chickpea paste and toasted sunflower seeds, served with barley, assorted cheeses, multi-grain bread, a red wine, and a stronger than usual cup of tea.
Now later devotees of the healing arts may recognize that the Peredhel's ministrations included a high dose of Valerian along with a meal concocted to provide both tryptophan and other melatonin precursors, all aimed at inducing sleep in a mortal, or relaxation in an Elf. Celebrían reacted predictably, becoming drowsy and tranquil.
For a while, Elrond remained beside his wife, speaking with her of hope and rejuvenation, of the beautiful sunny days of spring to come and the love of her family. For a while, Celebrían responded with acceptance, seeing the possibilities for better times in her imagination and hoping that such could indeed come to pass. But as the hours of the night passed, she grew silent and languid, and a small grin shaped her lips as she seemed to float on her sickbed in the emptied and closed ward in the Halls of Healing. Elrond gave his wife her peace and moved to a desk where he resumed poring o'er tomes of medicinal lore presenting the treatments for a troubled mind.
Now in her state of relaxation, Celebrían did not fight the memories of her ordeal as they came to her, (as they did during well 'nigh e'ery night), and she examined them with a clarity gifted by the simples proffered by her husband. For the first time since Urui, she was liberated from the compulsion to revisit her interment in the Yrch dung and felt no impulse to recreate that condition by whatsoe'er self-imposed simulacrum she could contrive at the stables.
Instead, her memory provided a recounting of the segment of time preceding being planted in the Uruks' excrement, the time when she had been concussed by the head blow and delirious from the shock, fear, and horror immediately following her capture.
They had dragged her like a sack, down tunnels into rock and stone, out from 'neath the sky and into a deep cavern, dark, noisome, and filthy. There the leering company of Yrch had ripped away her raiment, leaving her naked before them, and they had groped her very thoroughly, their clawed fingers running o'er her flesh as they drooled and commented in their foul tongue. The sheer lust she had glimpsed in their eyes had filled her heart with the ice of despair. Revolted, she had wanted to throw up.
Her waking mind, still reeling from the head blow and numbed by the horror, had begun to retreat from the vile intensity of the experience and into the sanctuary of unconsciousness. One of her last clear memories was of the leader bidding the rest to dig a hole. Thereafter most of her recollections were just fragmented images, disjointed feelings, and the impressions of sensations provided by her skin. One of her last clear thoughts was of her friends and guardians, all dead to save her, yet they had failed in the end and now she found herself longing for the mercy of a swift blade.
The Orc captain, had his name been Rûgûrz-gajol¹? Was that what he had whispered in her ear whilst he held her in a lover's embrace as they lay spooned together atop the dried excrement of his kind? Had he intimated the translation for her in the Common Tongue? She seemed to recall now that it had been so, and that she had found it true. ¹(Rûgûrz-gajol, Lavish Cock = rûg-(v. lavish) + -ûrz(adj. fr v. suff) + gajol(cock) Orkish)
She recalled the feel of his scaly lips as he suckled, and the tingling, drawing sensation that traveled from her breast to her belly in a delirious haze as he wrapped her hand 'round his shaft to prove the veracity of his name. His hand had constrained her wrist and guided her in stroking motions whilst his other hand had stimulated her supremely sensitive flesh.
Celebrían had been in complete denial of this collage of images, having previously banished them entirely from her mind. Now, relaxed as she was, she examined them with a growing fear of whither they would lead.
Had her hand continued stroking unsupervised after he had removed his hand from her wrist? Had she allowed him to lift her leg o'er his hip? Had she felt his clawed fingers slide down her tummy to spread her lips? Had she rubbed her spread flesh with his pointed tip as she stroked him, and had she been encouraged by his grunts of approval? Had she lubricated for him in anticipation? Had he been the one to stay her hand as she moved to position him for penetration, instead restricting their contact to external stimulation?
She had been semi-conscious and delirious. Had her condition prompted a loss of conscious control and left her body vulnerable, reacting on animal instinct to the intensity of the experience and the sensations of her flesh? Bereft of her higher functions, had she allowed the sensations of his unwanted stimulation to o'erwhelm her? And crowning those sensations, had she truly felt the convulsive contractions within her pelvis as the streaks of his hot seed had erupted from his lavish organ to spatter o'er her tummy and breasts ere he stilled her stroking hand?
Had the tears she cried ere they had buried her in their dung been for the loss of her friends and the hopelessness of her plight as she told herself they had been, or had they been bred from her shame at indiscriminately sharing such intimacy with a stranger, an enemy. Had she believed even then that she was no better than an animal in rut as she betrayed her husband and squandered the One's sacred gift of bonding at the first opportunity? She had not struggled against her captor. She had not rejected his molestation. Did that mean she could crave it and that when stripped of her civility, she wanted it?
And as her self-doubt exploded into a new realm of self-condemnation, she wondered if, had she not been rescued, would she have eventually succumbed to her hopelessness and accepted her fate? Did she deserve it for dooming her friends? Would she have abandoned all that she knew and loved to become Rûgûrz-gajol's playmate? She found that, to her horror, she honestly did not know.
The hours of the night passed as she ruminated o'er these dark revelations, and the herbs provided her a measure of detachment in which to assess them. Whilst Elrond sat consulting his healing lore, Celebrían realized that her doubts were too great. The true causes of her illness derived from some natal condition, some primal flaw that was not subject to herbs or conversation. At her core, she was tainted, and only through great trauma had she been shown that deep within, she had been born irreparably damaged. Her husband was the greatest healer of her people, yet she had come to doubt that she would find healing in the Hidden Valley.
As dawn brightened Rivendell, Celebrían resolved to hang on so long as she could. For the sake of her husband and their children, she would endure the intolerable conflict within 'til she could no longer hold it at bay. And then she would take the only road left open to her. She would sail, sail into the West, bearing away her sorrow, her guilt, and her shame to the Blessed Realm wherein perhaps she might find surcease. She expected to be gone by the end of Hrívë¹. ¹(Hrívë, Winter Nov 14th to Jan 24th, the fifth month of the six month Eldarin calendar as used in Imladris. Quenya)
To Be Continued
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