In An Age Before – Part 286
Chapter One hundred sixty-seven
Narag-Bagd the Black Wind of 'Urdazhâr – The Third Age of the Sun
As she had feared, Helluin did not escape the festivities without acquiring a new title to accompany her o'erfilled belly. On the first night of feasting, King Thrór had risen from his chair at the head of the high table and proclaimed a fresh honorific to displace the prior title of Mórgolodh. The boisterous voices in the hall had fallen silent when the king stood.
"Helluin of the Host of Finwë, for 'nigh on sixty centuries the Sons of Durin have known thee as the Black Exile. Yet in honor of the great deed thou hast accomplished of late, we would commemorate thy victory and name thee Bazgûna Sulûkhu¹. Pray rise for a moment and receive the acclaim of the Realm of Erebor, O Bazgûnsulûkhu!" ¹(Bazgûna Sulûkhu, (Bazgûnsulûkhu*), Lady Dragons' Bane = bazgûna(s fem n, derived form, bane-lady of) + sulûkhu(pl n, dragons)(*colloquial contraction) Khuzdul)
Helluin had swallowed a mouthful of roasted beef, unfolded her long legs from 'neath what was for her a low table, and reluctantly stood from her chair. Glasses and mugs had been raised all 'round and the Dwarves had cheered, shouted, and stamped their feet so that the feasting hall rang with their approval. Helluin had raised her mug to them to acknowledge the honor done her. The applause continued for an embarrassing length of time ere it trailed off so that the Sons of Durin could continue feasting. Ere she resumed her seat, the Noldo had bowed low to King Thrór and he had smiled and drained his cup to her.
Helluin thought her new title, Rian Dagnir Lúgin¹, (though a bit long-winded), would not sound so bad in Sindarin, for like any other Dwarvish name, the Khuzdul version would not be used outside the company of the Khazad. ¹(Lady Dragons Bane, Rian Dagnir Lúgin = rian(lady) + dagnir(bane) + lúg(dragon) + -in(pl n suff, dragons) Genitive construction, dagnir lúgin, bane of dragons Sindarin)
The morn of the second day following the end of the feasting found Helluin and the bird looking out from the gates of Erebor, viewing the lands to the south of the mountain. There an extensive conspiracy of ravens were flying west in a dark cloud, croaking boisterously as they went. Their harsh voices carried easily o'er the intervening miles.
"They fly from Raven Hill," commented one of the sentries beside them on the wall walk above the gates. After a few moments spent assessing their numbers he added, "There are so many that perhaps they have also come from the Emyn Angren."
Helluin recalled Kallfelak's comment about avoiding their rookery during the hatching season. The 'most wonderful bird' was watching their progress closely, as if appraising the selections of delicacies presented on salvers by circulating waiters at a buffet.
To forestall any culinary improprieties, Helluin asked, "Thy people esteem them, do they not?" He nodded an emphatic 'aye' and the bird looked away as if the thought of snatching a few to snack on had ne'er crossed its mind.
"'Tis said that they bear messages and warn of enemies approaching," he said. "I wonder whyfor they fly so many together, for there is 'naught to the west."
Helluin gave thought to his comment and then groaned aloud.
"I wager they and e'ery other carrion fowl in the north now wings their way to the valley 'twixt 'Anshâkalathuk and Zudrâathuk for to feast on the carcasses of the Dragons," she said, shaking her head at the unforeseen danger they posed. Not understanding the implications, the Dwarf chuckled approvingly.
We shall be lucky if their cawing and squawking does not wake Narag-Bagd. I hope that the company going to collect the treasure encounters no dangers because of them, she thought. And any plan to assail 'Urdazhâr shall needs be delayed pending the return of blessed silence.
'Twas just as well, for Helluin had as yet no certain plan to confront the Black Wind Dragon of Mountain Home. She had only the inklings of an inspiration and a dwindling amount of fluid in an old bottle. The Noldo had given thought to many possibilities, especially since she was in the company of the most ingenious craftsmen in all of Middle Earth. The biggest problem she foresaw was assuring that the virtue of her weapon remained intact for 'twas 'nigh six centuries since it had last proved its potency. She offered the sentry words of honor in parting and then hastened to advise the king on the new potential danger of the ravens to his treasure caravan.
The remainder of the month of Cerveth passed as Helluin brooded o'er her plan. By the third week, the ravens had returned to Raven Hill after a fortnight of gorging on increasingly putrescent Dragon flesh. In the first week of Urui, the treasure caravan returned, intact, and with all its members safe. The six wains carried o'er three tons of mithril, gold, silver, gems, and heirloom weapons and armor. The Dwarves had taken well 'nigh e'ery single thing of value from 'Anshâkalathuk and Zudrâathuk, for they did not expect to return.
Along the way, they had passed the scene of the battle 'twixt the two Dragons and reported that it had been carpeted with carrion fowl of sundry species, including their familiar ravens. Preoccupied with their feeding, the birds had ignored them. The Dwarves had fled as fast as the wagons could travel, the sooner to be free of the miasma of corruption. They had driven through the lowlands to avoid that place on their return trip. Throughout their journey, they had found no evidence that Narag-Bagd had awakened or that Biraikhgirul-Uslukh's interest had been aroused. The Noldo had breathed a sigh of relief at those tidings.
Receiving the physical treasure precipitated a new round of celebrations in Erebor. Again, the feasting hall rang with toasts, speeches, songs, and laughter. The rejoicing of the Sons of Durin at the return of their own lasted another three days, but the joyous mood was far slower to pass. Of course, during those days Helluin had not escaped the effusive praise and thanksgiving of the Dwarves for destroying 'Urmuakhshâm and Khabbkurdu, and her new title, Bazgûnsulûkhu was sung with praise and honor.
Now when the final night of feasting concluded, King Thrór beckoned Helluin to follow him, and with only a pair of guards to accompany them, he led her deep 'neath the grand public halls of Erebor. As they came to the final passage before a circular door reinforced and plated with sheets and bars of steel, paired sentries standing guard along the length of the hall saluted and turned their backs, acknowledging their lord, but then granting him and his guest their privacy.
At last, they reached the door and the king produced a comically large and intricate key. This he inserted into the lock set in the center. Helluin heard the soft sounds of mechanisms rotating and engaging as he turned the key a full revolution and then extracted it. Dozens of steel rods the diameter of her thigh retracted from sockets in the doorframe, unbarring the door. Thrór laid his hands on the door pull and with a grunt of effort, heaved the door open.
At once, a golden light bathed them and 'twas cast past them down the hallway. As in the treasuries at 'Anshâkalathuk and the House of Gneiss in Khazad-dûm long aforetime, this chamber was illuminated by a light shaft, for only in natural sunlight could the true colors of gems be judged.
Within, Helluin was greeted by the sight of the treasury of Erebor, the gathered wealth of the Lonely Mountain. 'Twas far greater than what had been recovered from 'Anshâkalathuk and Zudrâathuk. The Noldo doubted that she had e'er been confronted by a larger concentration of wealth even in Khazad-dûm, for she had ne'er seen Durin's royal treasury. Nor had she seen the treasury at Formenos or the wealth of the House of Fëanor. She had been disinterested in such displays, and in all honesty, still was not o'erly impressed. Instead, her eyes surveyed the heaps of precious metal ingots, the chests of raw and cut jewels, the cabinets filled with finished jewelry, and the royal heirlooms of the House of Durin.
It took some time to look it all o'er, but at last, she turned to regard Thrór. The king appeared mesmerized by the sight of his peoples' wealth, staring unblinking at the incalculable array of precious metals and gems. The Noldo was tempted to wave a hand before his face simply to see if he would react. This she did not do, but rather turned back and more carefully surveyed the objects lying before her. She first appraised what lay on a table that stood directly 'neath the light shaft.
There in that display case abides the moonstone cabochon that Celebrimbor offered in token of the friendship of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, treasured by the Lords of Durin's folk for o'er forty-three centuries, she realized, her eyes widening in recognition, but what is that great faceted stone that projects its reflections in myriad moving colors? I have ne'er aforetime seen its like, even in Aman, for 'tis not a Silmaril. Have the Ereborrim sought to recreate the achievements of Fëanor even as the House of Gneiss recreated the moonstone of Celebrimbor? What next, I wonder? Shall they essay to craft Rings of Power?
Whilst wonder held her, King Thrór seemed to snap out of his trance. He shook his head and muttered a few words 'neath his breath, then turned to his guest. Helluin met his eyes.
"Come, O Bazgûnsulûkhu," the young king said, beckoning her to follow him. "I know not if the eyes of Elves see as do the eyes of Dwarves, but I know that all of our eyes that behold this place settle upon the Arkenstone." They had made their way to the table 'neath the light shaft and Thrór gestured to the stone of many reflected colors. "This we reckon is the heart of the mountain, found long ago and carried to Gunûdu Uzbad by King Thráin when he went to recolonize the Ered Mithrin in 2210. I was tasked with saving it from the Dragon's attack and barely escaped with it whilst my father and brother fought Biraikhgirul-Uslukh. Alas that they did not escape. I managed to preserve it and bear it back here. I deem it belongs here, especially now that we have returned."
"'Tis unique to my eyes, for I have ne'er aforetime seen its like upon either shore," Helluin said as she carefully appraised the gem at close range. "'Tis a wonder that it refracts light into rainbow colors and that these move whilst the stone remains still."
"That is the enchantment of the Arkenstone," Thrór said, "and even the most gem-crafty amongst us understand it not. Long our people have delved, Helluin, here and elsewhere, and 'tis still one-of-a-kind. We do not expect to find another."
"I can imagine the wonder that those who found it must have felt, and the strength of will it must have taken to cut it," she said, and Thrór nodded solemnly beside her.
"I am not surprised that thou, O friend of the Ages, would understand the sheer will power that he who cut and polished its facets must have had," he said. "Few who see it give thought to 'aught beyond awe at its beauty."
"'Tis very beautiful indeed and a wonder of the natural world. I should not be surprised but that Mahal alone might form such a gem from the stuff of the mountains," she said. "Thy folk are truly blessed to have found it, my lord."
"So we hold ourselves," the king said, nodding in agreement. "None but Mahal might craft so sublime a work and so our awe and thanksgiving for his patronage is renewed with each sight of it, a tangible reminder that there are powers and crafts far greater than any we might attain."
"I have long believed it so, O King, that He who wrought this world far surpasses any inspirations of His Children. Those of good heart take heed of the One's achievements in creating this world and reverence the Valar for their caretaking of it."
They stood together a while in silence, contemplating their common beliefs. Finally, Thrór spoke.
"A strange thing it may seem to others, that one who seeks for wealth and one who has slain so many both reverence the natural world and those who created it before 'aught else, yet 'tis so and I deem it meet that to appreciate and protect what we find worthy of our awe should drive us."
"I agree, my noble friend. At heart we are not so different," Helluin said.
'Twas so indeed and yet their words acknowledged not those times of excess that both were subject to. Helluin's battle rage had exploded into the atrocities that had earnt her the title, Butcher of Bruinen, whilst Thrór would eventual succumb to the lust of gold. Alas, unlike Helluin, he would not recover.
After a while, Thrór led Helluin to another table, smaller and deeper in the treasury. There he pointed out a bar of mithril and made a request.
"Helluin, 'tis known thou hast a Light of thine own, and lore tells that it came of the West ere the moon or sun rose o'er Middle Earth." To this, the Noldo nodded 'aye', wondering what the king would ask. "As thou know, we learnt from Master Celebrimbor how to make of mithril an alloy called ithildin in the Sindarin tongue." Again, Helluin nodded 'aye' for that alloy traced the outlines and symbols upon the Ennyn Durin of Moria that Celebrimbor had drawn. 'Twas no stretch to imagine him sharing the formula with his friend Narvi. "The craftsmen of Erebor would conduct an experiment at metallurgy, to attempt the creation of an alloy yet more precious and uncommon; one that only one such as thou might reveal by the Light ye carry within. To accomplish this task, I would ask if thou wouldst illuminate this ingot with thy Light that it thereafter carries that virtue to its final compounding."
"Thy craftsmen seek to create an alloy that would reveal itself only in the Light of Aman?" she asked, astonished. "Few are those left in Middle Earth that may reveal such a design, O Thrór. I would be glad to try to aid in this peculiar endeavor, but I simply do not understand how it could be practical."
"The inquiry is primarily academic, Helluin," Thrór explained. "As the light of Ithil recalls the Light of Telperion, but the light of Anor is too bright to use in practice, we wonder if the Light carried forth in combination by those remaining Calaquendi might substitute. The curiosity of our craftsmen, abetted by the lore of the West, has incited their interest in making such a trial. For the sake of increasing their knowledge, rather than for any practical application, they would learn the truth of their conjectures. And as thou hast said, few are those capable of providing that Light…indeed, only thou art known to us as a friend of whom we might beg such a boon."
To this explanation, the Noldo nodded in understanding. Pure research born of curiosity about the natural world seemed in this case a noble endeavor and even she could understand the logic of it. She found herself curious as well. Besides, Thrór was correct in recognizing that only she could empower the ingot so that a trial in alloying might be made.
"This then I shall do, O Thrór, and I wish thy craftsmen success in their investigations," Helluin said. She then lifted the ingot and clasped it to her chest. After a moment for thought, she advised the king, "Thou shouldst probably look away lest the ril discomfit thy sight."
After the king had nodded in understanding and turned away, Helluin opened her aetheric aperture and allowed the Light within her being to infuse the mithril ingot. She maintained the glare for a few heartbeats, then ceased her incandescence and the treasury returned to its prior level of illumination. Thrór turned back just in time to see the glow of the metal fade to normal. Helluin set the ingot back on the table and gave the king a nod of confirmation. He offered her a dip of his head in thanks.
"Pray tell me how the experiment resolves if thou would, O King. I too am curious now," she said.
"I shall be sure to do so, Helluin," he said, "and thou hast my thanks and the thanks of the Guild of Craftsmen. Mahal knows that even they need succor from crafting so much in gold from time to time."
They shared a chuckle and took their leave of the treasury. Helluin deemed that the halls leading back up to the populated precincts of the Lonely Mountain seemed dim 'til her eyes became accustomed to the lamplight again.
The Noldo had a trial of her own to make ere she could proceed with the refinement of her plans. Onto a small lump of hard cheese, she smeared with an apothecary's spatula the fraction of a drop of the now viscous fluid from an old bottle of Rhûnic manufacture. With great care, Helluin conveyed this tainted tidbit to the larders, where with the blessing of the Head Cook, she set it in a known path of 'those miserable rodentia'. After thanking the Khazdûna¹, Helluin excused herself, leaving the cheese there o'ernight. ¹(Khazdûna, Dwarf Lady (sing. n. fem. form) Khuzdul)
On the following morn, that being then 12 Urui, Helluin returned to the larder where the Head Cook received her with a gleeful expression.
"May Mahal bless thee, O Bazgûnsulûkhu," the Head Cook said, "we are relieved o'ernight of a dozen rats, and these reduced to small puddles. I would gladly have more of thy cheese if thou can spare it."
Helluin carefully viewed the diminutive mayhem, deeming that four rats had shared, (or more likely fought o'er), the cheese and another eight had eaten of their carcasses ere all dozen had disintegrated, (the original four more so and the remaining eight less completely). She nodded to herself in satisfaction and then turned to the Head Cook.
"Alas, I have no more of the poisoned cheese and would not advise leaving it 'round good food again, honorable mistress. My goal was to test the efficacy of the adulterant on the rats and they have passed the test admirably. Perhaps a better solution would be the acquisition of some cats?"
The Head Cook looked at her carefully, but could detect no subterfuge. Finally, the Khazdûna shook her head and said, "Poison? Oh, Mahal preserve us! Still, 'tis a pity, for it worked so well. Alas, I cannot have cats in my kitchen any more than I can have poison…the creatures shed too much hair."
Helluin nodded to her in sympathy but did not suggest shaving the cats.
Now having confirmed the virtue of her remaining poison, the Noldo next approached the Guild of Fletchers and begged their aid. She brought her bow and quiver of arrows to display the length of the shafts required. The Master Fletcher of the guild himself sat with her to consult on what might be done for the Bazgûnsulûkhu, for their esteem of her was great.
"I desire a special arrow that can deliver a small volume of deadly fluid and release it on impact," Helluin said. She had been imagining an arrow with a fragile glass bulb filled with toxin in place of a normal arrowhead.
"Then it must be both capable of withstanding the shock of release from the bowstring and yet remain able to disperse its contents upon impact. With a bow as powerful as thine, I wager the difference shall be slight unless thy target is stone."
"T'will be the maw of a Dragon, so meat, and probably soft meat at that," the Noldo said.
The guildsman nodded, now having a better understanding of the requirements. Several ideas he considered, but the one he recommended had the least chance of failure due to mishandling, and the least difference from the arrows in Helluin's quiver. T'would fly true and not diminish the accuracy or force of Helluin's bow.
"Pray leave it to me, O Bazgûnsulûkhu," he said. "By week's end I shall deliver two such arrows so that thou may make a trial first."
Helluin bowed to the fletcher and they parted with words of friendship and honor. 'Twas already the second day of the week and the last day would be 17 Urui.
When the appointed day arrived, the Noldo returned to the Guild of Fletchers with her bow and quiver to find the Master Fletcher and one of his artisans awaiting her. On a table beside them lay two arrows crafted of white wood and fletched with black raven feathers. 'Twas the arrowheads that drew Helluin's attention for they were unlike any she had seen aforetime.
Rather than a steel broadhead or bodkin point there was a section of tubing the thickness of her pinky finger and the breadth of her hand, and threaded onto its tip, a short, stout, hollow needle sharpened at an angle. The Guild Master explained its construction.
"We have created for thee two injector arrows, one to prove the concept and a second to slay a Dragon," he said with a grim grin. "The tube is constructed of steel, thin and light, but very strong, and vented at its attachment to the arrow's shaft. Within it is a free-sliding lead piston, to be driven forward inside the tube on impact. The contents is sealed within the tube when the needle is attached, for its tip is plugged with a thin bit of beeswax."
"We have even arranged with the kitchen for thou to make a test," said the artisan with a broad smile.
Helluin looked o'er the arrows, hefting one to feel its balance. She unscrewed the needle to examine the piston, and then reassembled the whole. 'Twas far more complex than what she had first imagined, and yet she could understand what an improvement t'would be o'er a glass bulb on the end of an arrow. The whole was as streamlined as a bodkin point. Shaking the arrow back and forth allowed her to hear and feel the shift in the piston's weight, and the needle, a finger joint in length and the thickness of a reed, would not obstruct the jet of poison that the piston drove out of the cylinder. A broad smile shaped her lips.
"Ye have crafted masterworks, my esteemed friends, and I cannot wait to make a test," she said after bowing deeply to them both. "Pray lead me hence that I may shoot."
"Pray follow us them, O Bazgûnsulûkhu," the Master Fletcher said.
The two Dwarves led Helluin down to the kitchen where they greeted the Head Cook. She gave them a parcel wrapped in butcher's paper and they also took a small flask of deep red wine. They made their way next to the armory wherein the soldiers drilled, and they chose a target on the archery range.
Helluin found the range to be a vast and impressive space hewn from the rock wherein individual archers could shoot targets 'cross the hall at distances of up to thirty fathoms. The space also made provision for testing heavier weapons down the length of the range, a full two furlongs 'neath a ceiling fifteen fathoms above. They chose a target at random, thirty fathoms 'cross the hall, and then Helluin strung her bow.
The Dwarves prepared the special arrow by filling the cylinder with the red wine and screwing the needle in place. The artisan unwrapped the parcel from the kitchen. Within, they found a raw, plucked chicken. At the master's behest, the artisan hastened 'cross the range to affix the carcass to their target. When he returned, the Master Fletcher handed the arrow to Helluin and gave her a nod.
The Noldo knocked the arrow on her bowstring as she had done thousands of times, then drew and sighted on the chicken. All of this she accomplished in a single, fluid motion without hesitation or uncertainty, and she released with full confidence in the outcome. Despite the arrow's slightly different weight and balance, the Númenórean bow drove it to the target in a nearly flat trajectory where it impacted the carcass with a satisfying thump. The trio began walking forward at once, eager to see the results.
Helluin knew that if she had fired a standard broadhead or bodkin tipped arrow with her bow at a chicken from one hundred eighty feet, the arrow would have passed clean through the carcass and into the target behind it. In this case though, the needle and cylinder had embedded themselves in the meat, stopping further penetration of the shaft.
The Noldo pulled the arrow free and the three examined it closely. Unscrewing the needle revealed that the chamber was empty of wine and the piston had been driven fully forward. The wine had been ejected through the needle and into the carcass. They marked that the meat was wine stained, proving the efficacy of the delivery system. Helluin praised the fletchers profusely and thanked them for all they had done.
Upon 18 Urui, Helluin took a single teaspoon of the ancient venom that she had culled from Ungolúróg at Sheol in 1994 and diluted it with pure water to the consistency of milk. This she loaded into the two special arrows and sealed their needles and beeswax from the candles in her guest chambers. She then carefully set them aside for safety's sake as anyone that accidentally got some of the toxin in a cut, eye, or mouth would die a horrible death, their body dissolved outwards from the wound site whether 'twas inside or out.
Having already seen two sleeping Dragons, Helluin expected that Narag-Bagd would also be sleeping with his mouth partly open and his tongue dangling on the floor. She had wondered at this habit, but reckoned that if she approached the Black Wind as she had the Worm of Worry and the Furnace Heart, she would be able to send an arrow straight down his throat where the spider venom would dissolve his organs from the inside out. With the blessings of the Valar, he would awaken and she could goad him into chasing her to the gates of 'Urdazhâr where he would expire horribly on the threshold ere he could take wing and perhaps draw the attention of other Dragons. That best-case scenario would leave Mountain Home free for the reclamation of its treasure whilst keeping the treasury from hosting his dissolving carcass. Of course, she also expected that, as with any plan, some details would prove different in practice.
Now on 20 Urui, after apprising the king of her plans and obtaining rations for a shorter excursion, Helluin rode Smoca from the gates of Erebor to the thunderous cheers of the many Dwarves who had lined the wall walk o'er the gate and the verges of the road leading away from the mountain. O'erhead, the 'most wonderful bird' wheeled and circled as it followed their progress. Helluin felt completely ridiculous, but smiled and waved at her adoring well-wishers as Smoca high stepped in a showy parade trot 'til they passed out of sight 'round the end of the southwestern spur.
Our departure lacked only a band and choir, the stallion observed, twisting his head 'round to engage the Noldo eye to eye, but 'twas still quite grand. I can understand now why thou undertake such errantry.
Bah! said Helluin. I do not seek for deeds to earn the acclaim of good folk. The Dragons are a menace to all and must be removed. So long as they remain on the Withered Heath, I mind them little for now, but those that have come o'er the Ered Mithrin may one-day aid in Sauron's plots and that cannot be borne.
So 'tis their potential, their existential threat that goads thee to action?
Just so, Helluin said, I deem that someday war shall resume 'twixt Sauron and all the free peoples of Middle Earth, and upon that day, I would not that he commands such allies in the north to threaten Erebor or Mirkwood.
Perhaps I missed some bits of history, Smoca said, but thou claim that war with Sauron shall resume as if it had happened aforetime. Was that whilst we lingered at Rhosgobel?
Helluin's eyes had started from her head, but she bit back the sharp retort that first came to her lips and took his rather limited perception of history into account ere she answered.
'Twas somewhat ere thy time, Smoca, but Sauron has twice led armies of conquest against Elves, Dwarves, and Men, and he hath sent his agents against Arthedain and Gondor in this Age. As he still exists, he is bound to try again for he is driven by an imperative to rule all things.
I see, said the stallion, though he still had little understanding of the tracts of time involved. Dost thou believe that Sauron shall begin his next attack ere we return to Erebor?
Nay, I do not. I reckon that in the twenty-six centuries since he lost his Ring of Power, he hath ne'er ceased in longing for it and more recently, of seeking for it. Should he recover it, his attack would be imminent.
Twenty-six centuries…that is a long time, is it not? Smoca asked. At Helluin's non-committal nod, he added, Perhaps he hath forgotten about it in the years since its loss? Out of sight is out of mind 'tis said.
The Ring makes him far more than he is now, Helluin replied. If thou misplaced thy mouth, wouldst thou not seek for it regardless of how much time had passed?
I suppose so, Smoca muttered, his eyes wide with horror at the concept of misplacing his mouth. He resolved to keep a closer watch o'er it thereafter.
For one hundred and ninety miles, they continued to ride west, passing through ten leagues of northern Mirkwood to escape the reek of Biraikhgirul-Uslukh at Gunûdu Uzbad. On 25 Urui they arrived in the lowlands south of 'Urdazhâr, finding all the surrounding area quiet and at peace. In the broad bay 'twixt the ridges that bracketed 'Urdazhâr, Helluin spoke to Smoca and to the bird that now stood at chest height before her. They were but five leagues south of the Dragon's den and seven leagues north of Mirkwood.
I bid ye retreat to the forest and remain hidden therein 'til this matter is resolved. And thou, she said, looking pointedly at the bird, pray await my tidings ere swooping in to feast on the Dragon's carcass this time. It shall bear a poison most noxious in its meat, if all goes according to plan.
The bird bobbed its head and appeared to accept her warning, but Helluin trusted its appetite not at all. She added, 'Tis not simply a foul flavor that this toxin causes, for such I wager thou would not taste. This poison is the venom of a spider far larger and more fell than any living in Mirkwood, and it begets liquefaction in the carcasses of those that partake of it. They die and dissolve into a puddle of soup, as tainted and deadly as the poison itself.
The bird looked at her in abject horror leaving the Noldo hoping that perhaps her words had been taken to heart. It only muttered, well, that sounds like no fun at all.
Helluin nodded gravely to reinforce her points and then began her walk into the highlands, leaving her two friends to make their way south to seek sanctuary in the forest.
Night had fallen ere she arrived in sight of the broken gates of 'Urdazhâr, finding there a stream that both the Dwarves and the Dragon had benefitted from. Sitting in its waters she thoroughly washed herself, her weapons, and her armor as she had aforetime at 'Anshâkalathuk and Zudrâathuk, removing all scents of horse and 'aught else that still clung to her from Erebor or her travels. And as she had at the two prior Dragon lairs, she anointed her greaves with the dung of the resident Cold-drake so that Narag-Bagd would not detect her by scent during her approach.
Now when the Noldo completed her ablutions and made her way to the gates, she detected a long-familiar and much reviled scent that was not the Dragon. A set of footprints entering the gate confirmed her suspicions and she gritted her teeth at the complication it might present.
Yrch! she silently cursed to herself, or more likely one Orch and but recently arrived. If the Dragon has not killed it, I would kill it twice for chancing to wake this foe. I wonder why it came and if it lingers still. I see no tracks leaving. Did it know that a Dragon has taken up residence here? Did it seek shelter, alliance, or treasure? Did it become a meal or a servant? I suppose I shall learn soon enough.
More warily than she had at the prior two mansions, Helluin slipped forward, mantled in her full stealth. She felt no presence of foes in the entrance hall and heard no sounds. Long she stood silent and still amongst the shadows, seeking for any clue to the presence of at least one Orc. Yet after an hour had passed and 'naught had been revealed, she slowly made her way to the entrance of a tunnel leading downwards, deeming that both she and the Yrch would seek for the deeper and more secure precincts of 'Urdazhâr.
Down the sloping passage and through the darkness Helluin advanced with the stealth of the Laiquendi. Soon, she marked the slow movement of air, its direction regularly reversing as Narag-Bagd inhaled and exhaled somewhere ahead. Nodding to herself in approval, the Noldo drew one of the poisoned arrows and fitted it to her bowstring in anticipation.
Thank the Valar, the Dragon yet sleeps, she thought as she rounded a corner in the tunnel.
Another third part of an hour passed as the Noldo continued downward toward Narag-Bagd's lair. The creature's breathing remained placid and she heard no telltale sounds of Orcs. Helluin had continued on a while longer and rounded what she realized was the last turn in the tunnel when the Black Wind's peaceful breathing was disturbed by what would have been a snort in a normal sized creature. In the closed tunnel and with an animal the size of a Dragon, the blast of air actually made Helluin's ears pop. Cursing the timing, she pressed herself flat against the tunnel wall and stared ahead at the shattered doors of the treasury.
It seemed that the architecture of the Dwarves was consistent. The chamber was lit by a light shaft, but being nighttime, only dim starlight and moonlight illuminated the Dragon's lair. Still, after the blackness of the tunnel, 'twas comparatively bright. It also seemed that the practice of Dragons to sleep with their head in or near the entrance to their hoard was consistent as well. Helluin had no trouble marking the figure of an Orc with a heavy sack o'er one shoulder trying to sidle past Narag-Bagd's head as the Dragon twitched and came to wakefulness. The Orc had allowed the sack full of stolen treasure to swing and strike the monster's face as he attempted to slip through the doorway.
Stupid, clumsy moron, Helluin groaned as the Dragon shook the sleep from its eyes and cast its glare upon the thief.
The Orc swiveled 'round, took one look at the wide-awake Dragon, and shrieked. The sound was deafening in the tunnel. With a growl of rage, Narag-Bagd made a sudden attempt to catch the thief, lunging forward and snapping at him, but his jaws only closed on air. The Orc had barely dodged his teeth and fled down the tunnel straight towards Helluin, screaming in terror the whole way.
In an instant, the Noldo stepped from the wall, a poisoned arrow already nocked on her bowstring. She drew and released, taking the Orch in the eye. The force of the shot actually pitched him backward off his feet so that he landed face up atop the sack of treasure. He lay still three fathoms in front of the Dragon who was still only halfway out of the doorframe. Helluin nocked her second injector arrow in a heartbeat and held the Dragon at arrow point. 'Twas the absolute last thing she had hoped for.
Narag-Bagd was truly shocked at the sudden sequence of events. He had been sleeping peacefully, for how long he cared not at all, when something had smacked him on the head. 'Twas the rudest awakening he had endured in three centuries of life and he woke in surprise to find a thief, a miserable Orc, trying to escape with a sack of his treasure. Still but half-awake, he had made an attempt to catch the cowardly burglar and crush him in his jaws, but the lucky miscreant had dodged aside by reflex and then fled in terror. A chase would have ensued, but suddenly, the last thing he could have imagined had come to pass, and it had happened with shocking swiftness. The thief had been shot dead by yet another creature that had invaded his home. This one he regarded with curiosity, and with a sniff, confirmed that 'twas not another Orc. The Black Wind was even more surprised when that creature lowered the bow with which it had shot the thief. Then, they looked each other in the eyes and commenced to conversation.
"I should thank thee, I suppose," he said, "though to come into my home uninvited has e'er been a crime as well. Who art thou…what art thou?"
Now Helluin knew from lore that in answering a Dragon, one was best served by speaking neither the whole truth, nor by telling lies. Using some virtue conveyed of old to their kindred by Morgoth, the creatures seemed to be able to tell the difference. Yet they were curious and sought to know all things, especially about potential foes.
"I am an Elf, and like all of my kind, one that hates such creatures as this," she said, gesturing with one end of her bow to the fallen Orc.
"That may explain why thou shot him, but not why thou art here," Narag-Bagd said. "Whyfor wouldst thou follow such a foe into my den? Would not my presence dissuade thee?"
"It would have indeed had I known of thy wakeful, watchful presence," Helluin said, "but I found only his tracks upon the threshold and so followed him hither. Had thy tracks too been present, then I would have waited outside thy home and shot him there if by some chance he had come forth alive."
The winged Cold-drake accepted her answer, for he sensed no untruths in her words.
"For slaying the one that stole from me, I would reward thee, Elf," the Black Wind said, "yet I am uncertain that thou would not return, knowing now the way and that I am wealthy."
"Bah," said Helluin, waving away his concerns, "I have no treasury and seek no treasure to burden myself with as I wander 'neath the moon and stars. I have ne'er been here aforetime, nor have I any desire to return, save if thy home somehow becomes an abode of Yrch. Then I would be inclined to shoot them 'til thy doorstep is piled high with their carcasses.
As for a reward, I would be well satisfied to have back my arrow that I may slay another such one day."
The Dragon looked deep into her eyes and she into his and he saw no lies. 'Twas the strangest thing he had e'er encountered for none he knew but craved for gold and jewels. And yet…
"Thou say thou crave not treasures and yet at thy waist thou wear a great Ring of true silver. Is that not a treasure greater than many a king names unto himself?"
"The value of the metal may be as thou say, but I know not and care less. Far more than a simple Ring of mithril, this is a weapon most fell," Helluin said, lifting the Sarchram from her belt clip and holding it up. "Canst thou read the cirth upon it?"
The Dragon looked with a critical eye upon the lettering that glowed now with the wavering light of flames, but he spoke not the Quenya tongue and the words were unintelligible to him.
"Nay, I cannot read them," he said. He expected the Elf to explain, but 'twas the weapon that spoke and it spoke with the Elf's voice!
"One Ring that flies to find them! One Ring to send them all unto the Void and in its darkness bind them!"
"But what does that actually mean?" he asked, his native curiosity driving him to enter into a philosophical argument. "Those it killed are dead, as dead as they would be if rent by teeth or impaled by claws are they not?"
"It means that the spirits of those slain by this weapon are cast out beyond the world and into the Eternal Night," Helluin said. "They are more than dead and their shades may not be invoked by the incantations of sorcerers or raised to life renewed by the will of the Gods."
"Such possibilities are rare, I wager," Narag-Bagd said, a captive to his curiosity now, for such possibilities seemed unlikely indeed.
"Rare, but not impossible," Helluin replied with a shrug. "The Witch King of Angmar filled the city of Fornost with wights, the spirits of his dead host trapped in unlife whilst he himself is no less trapped by the Ring he accepted from Sauron. There is an Elf who was returned to life by the Gods and now walks the westlands, whilst long ago they returned a Mortal Man to life, for a time…a long enough time for him to destroy a host of Dwarves."
Narag-Bagd nodded, for again, the Elf had told no lies and the notion of the Gods sending a dead Man to slaughter Dwarves greatly appealed to him.
"I see thou hast much lore," he said, "and perhaps thou art accounted one of the Wise. Of thee then I would ask, whyfor should I not take thy weapon and perhaps thy life as well rather than allow thee to leave my home, the first and only uninvited guest to be granted such a boon?"
"Would thou e'er return to thy sleep of peace, lying atop thy hoard?" asked Helluin. She received a nod 'aye' from the Dragon and explained, "If in thy hoard thou claim this weapon, it shall slay thee in thy sleep at the first opportunity, slitting thy belly to avenge me and then lying in wait for the next to come hither."
"To reap the fëar of our enemies was I created. Man, Elf, Orc, Troll, Daemon, Dragon, I care not so long as they are quickened by a spirit," the Sarchram said. "I crave 'naught save the slaughter!"
The concept of a speaking thing existing only to kill was actually alien to the Dragon. He might mercilessly slay hundreds, but 'twas always with a purpose, not for the sake of killing alone. He rightly perceived that taking this weapon would engender a hazard in excess of the value of its metal.
"I deem we are both best served by going our separate ways, each counting the gains this day has already offered; for me the slaying of an enemy and for thou the recovery of thy treasure. Greater greed shall serve neither of us better than it hath that Orc, who desired to take what was not his due," Helluin said.
"Thou offer reason rather than pleas or threats," Narag-Bagd said, "and that speaks of confidence rather than fear or folly. That I shall accept this time, but I shall not be merciful should thou return unbidden, Elf."
"Then I accept thy mercy, Dragon, for I have no desire to return. May I recover my arrow?"
"Why not," the Dragon said lightly. "Consider it thy reward for slaying a thief."
Helluin offered the Cold-drake a dip of her head and then advanced to the fallen Orch. She grasped the shaft, set her boot upon his head, and wrenched the arrow from his somewhat soft skull. The Noldo returned it to her quiver, half expecting the Black Wind to attempt some treachery, such as trying to snatch her when she turned her back, but he remained unmoving as she withdrew. Surprisingly, he seemed to be a Dragon of his word. The last thing Helluin heard as she made her way back up the tunnel was Narag-Bagd chewing on the Orc's carcass and then spitting out his armor and garments.
"That went as well as could be imagined," the Sarchram observed as they took their leave of the gates of 'Urdazhâr.
"He was more honorable than I had expected," Helluin agreed with a hint of remorse at having doomed him, "though I reckon this tale is yet to find its end."
"I feel o'erlooked," Anguirél carped from within her sheath. "After all, was it not my brother that once laid low the father of his race?"
"'Twas so indeed, and thou art as fell a blade as Anglachél, but his attention was fixated on the only bright thing he saw and I sought not to challenge him," she said, "though I reckon the mention of thee would have come up if he had attacked. Indeed, it may yet."
Helluin had walked to the side of the broken gates and taken a seat out of sight on a boulder. She had just grown comfortable, watching the late-night stars o'erhead when a great bellow of pain and rage blasted from the entrance of 'Urdazhâr. Then, the ground shook as if unquiet and wracked with tremors. The Noldo leapt to her feet and drew the Black Sword.
Now there continued from the gates the sounds of great pounding feet hastening upwards through dark tunnels and the cries of a mighty beast in anguish. The footfalls grew slower as they neared the surface and the bellows grew wetter, softer, and took on a note of desperation. After what seemed an Age, Narag-Bagd lurched past Helluin without marking her presence and tumbled down the slope into the stream, perhaps hoping that its waters might soothe his tormented belly.
Indeed, they could not, his entrails having already gone well on their way to dissolving. He buried his muzzle in the water and slurped up a great draught, but it aided him not and he continued to groan through the bloody froth that bubbled from his mouth. Helluin sheathed the Black Sword and resumed her seat to witness his death throes.
Now because the dose of spider toxin had been far smaller than what had killed the Yrch in Kâpul Ulot or the Wargs in Nurn, it took Narag-Bagd o'er an hour to expire. Towards the end of that span, he rolled onto his back and looking back at the entrance of his den, saw Helluin seated there watching him.
"Thou await my fall to plunder my hoard," he accused, but the Noldo shook her head 'nay'.
"I gave thee my word not to reenter thy home and I still desire not thy treasure. Thou too gave and kept thy word, allowing me the mercy of departing, and we did not become enemies this day. Now I wait upon thee, but doubt there is any aid of healing I may provide."
The Dragon nodded to her with dimming eyes, for again, he had detected no lie amongst her words. Just ere he expired, he mumbled, "How am I taken sickly? What afflicts me so?"
Standing by, Helluin could only offer him one last truth, "I would ne'er eat an Orc."
To Be Continued
A/N: Apologies to readers for the delay in posting this chapter. The local tennis tournament has been on TV this past week that couldn't be ignored.