In An Age Before – Part 300
Clouds had gathered o'erhead and thickened in the late afternoon of their first day out from Edoras. The host had ridden a score and ten miles on the Great West Road that day and then set camp where it began to draw 'nigh the foothills of the Ered Nimrais. There a creek ran down offering water for Man and horse, and good forage lay south of the road beside the camp. After another hour, the wagons of the supply train caught up, escorted by the last three éoreds with their spare draft horses tethered behind. Watches were set and dusk fell. The night of the 15th passed without incident.
The morn of 16 Gwirith dawned grey and heavy 'neath a dense o'ercast that promised rain. After consuming their morning rations, the host began to move and the rain began to fall. They halted when 'twas evident that this was no passing shower and Riders donned their foul weather gear. By noon, 'twas a downpour.
Those who had made the effort to lanolize their woolen cloaks enjoyed the waterproofing that soaking their garments in a dilute bath of melted lanolin had conferred. This waterproofing process was well known at Norðr-vestandóttir Bý and widespread in Rohan as well. But those unfortunates wearing untreated wool were eventually soaked to the skin and so carried an additional quarter-stone of absorbed water weight as they gritted their teeth and cursed 'neath their breath.
When Helm had called a halt that morn, Helluin had taken her cloak, draped it o'er Hildmearh from withers to croup, and told her, I would not have thee take a chill so early in the campaign.
The mare had expressed her thanks, but could not refrain from adding, Pray tell, is it some whimsy of my nose, or does this cloak bear a lingering taint of rotting meat? The Noldo had thrown up her hands in exasperation and remounted without a word. Thereafter she rode on, drenched and oblivious to the rain, thankful for her Elvish constitution.
Now the host continued west throughout that day, riding a score and five miles in the rain to allow their supply wagons to keep pace. As dusk approached, they had come two score and fifteen miles from Edoras all told and were drawing 'nigh an outthrust knee of the mountains. By that landmark, which then lay some two miles ahead, they reckoned themselves a score and three miles from Súthburg.
"Even should this rain continue unrelieved, we shall arrive on the morrow," Háma told Helluin as they ate their evening rations of dry sausage, sliced cheese, and half-soggy bread whilst sitting 'neath a tree in one of the many copses dispersed 'round their camp.
"I must wonder, whither the enemy has come since winning the fords," Helluin mused. By her reckoning, they were only two score and fifteen miles from the western bounds of the realm. Even afoot, the Dunlendings should have reached their position days if not weeks ago. Yet she had marked no sign of the invaders, either on the road, or in the surrounding lands. The situation left her apprehensive.
"The Second Marshal shall know best," the younger prince said, "and we shall hear his tidings on the morrow's night. 'Til then, we can only thank Béma that they are not here."
To this, the Noldo nodded in agreement, though it left her unsatisfied. Visibility through the sheeting rain was barely two leagues. As she watched him walk off to rejoin his father, she thought, I know what I would be doing if I were they. Much movement and many encampments this weather could conceal so long as they use no fire, and I give them little chance of kindling 'aught in this rain."
She spent some time surveying the land so far as she could see through the falling rain and gathering gloom, but saw 'naught to arouse her suspicions. Patrols companies of a dozen were riding out to keep watch and she allowed herself to relax somewhat, reckoning that any foes would be discovered and a timely alarm of horn calls winded. Groups of sentries also roamed afoot 'round the verges of the encampment for a fast reaction in case of any engagement. Helm took the security of his host seriously and she had marked no lapses in procedure thus far. Even so, she had her own methods.
Helluin went first to the horse pickets to take counsel with Hildmearh. Unlike some armies of Men, the Rohirrim kept their mounts amongst the host, not on the fringes of their camp. The Eorlingas counted their horses too valuable to be left vulnerable on the flank. Unlike the Mâh-Sakâ, they did not keep their steeds beside individual tents, which would have allowed the swiftest mounting and avoided a rush of Men to one location in the camp during an attack. Though the mare from Norðr-vestandóttir Bý was always left free to roam, as were all the horses on the farm, she kept company with the other steeds, herding animal that she was at heart.
"Fear thou not that she may stray?" asked one of the grooms when the Noldo came 'nigh.
"And go where?" Helluin asked in reply. The youthful stableman was for a moment nonplussed, but he tried to give an honest answer.
"She might wander off, leaving thee unhorsed in an attack."
"In the past, she was more likely to seek me than flee when danger threatened," Helluin told him. "We trust each other and look to each others' welfare. 'Tis perhaps that there is easier converse 'twixt Elves and horses than 'twixt horses and Men."
The Man was about to reply, but whate'er he had intended to say was forgotten when Hildmearh appeared out of the darkness and bumped Helluin's shoulder with her nose. Instead, he simply nodded to her and retreated to check on the horses in the picket line.
I seek thy counsel, my friend, Helluin said silently whilst looking into the mare's eyes.
Whyfor, Helluin? Is 'aught amiss?
I know of 'naught and was going to ask thee that very question, the Noldo said. Are the others at ease this night? Have they sensed, seen, or smelt 'aught troubling?
Nay, not here'bouts, though they are restless, knowing that battle awaits. Some have said that we draw 'nigh Súthburg, and so I must wonder, should we not have met the enemy?
That is indeed my concern as well. We are but a short day's ride from Súthburg and a long day's ride from the Fords of Isen whence came the Dunlendings. Save that they may all be busy besieging the fortress, I had expected to see some by now.
Huh, Hildmearh said, pausing a moment for thought. Recalling somewhat of her conversations with the other warhorses, she said, Some amongst us have marked a dearth of sundry kindreds in these lands. We have seen no foxes, wolves, raccoons, possums, rabbits, deer, or sheep. Indeed, we have marked few enough of birds. That may bode ill.
That may indeed, my friend. I thank thee for thy tidings. Pray remain vigilant.
Always pleased to help, of course, the mare said. We shall remain wary and I shall bid the others watch for creatures on four legs or two.
My thanks, Hildmearh. We shall hope to reach the fortress unscathed. I wish thee a fair night.
The mare rolled her eyes at that and said, Helluin, 'tis pouring rain. 'Aught I eat is soaked and I have not had to drink all day…and still I am peeing like a sieve.
Now 'twas the Noldo that rolled her eyes.
I thank thee for thy reportage, my friend. Some days are like that.
The mare nodded in agreement and wandered off to share company with the Rohirrim steeds. Helluin wandered off to climb a tree that grew in a copse beside the creek just beyond the edge of the encampment, intending to stare off into the darkness and seek for any creatures that might have tidings to share. Alas, the rainfall drowned out any whispers of the grasses that night.
She was about to leap up into the lower branches when she became aware of a small life struggling to climb the crumbling mud of the creek bank. Taking pity on its efforts, she reached down and scooped it up, setting it amidst the wet grass safely above the rushing water. The creature was a curious segmented worm of rat's size, with flippers and a hard, dark shell reminiscent of a sea turtle. Its head was soft and hairless, but shaped somewhat like that of cattle, with appendages approximating ears, a long, blunt snout, and large, sad eyes that regarded her with gratitude.
Ten thousand thanks, bright one, it said. I was at the very last end of my strength and would surely have been carried off to a dark fate had thou not appeared. I had well 'nigh abandoned any hope of survival and but for thy timely intervention, could have perished horribly a few moments hence. Béma bless thy gracious heart.
Thou art welcome, of course, Helluin replied as she marked tears streaming from the creature's eyes as it trembled from its efforts. She deemed it somewhat histrionic, though its heart seemed to be in the right place. Pray satisfy my curiosity, she asked, for in my long life I have ne'er met one of thy kindred. What art thou, pray tell?
I was a turtle once, but perhaps I am a worm now, it offered readily enough, I find my memory afflicted by deep traumas past and present. I reckon 'tis my station to suffer the trials of a cruel world, yet what is the place of any of us within Creation but to withstand the vagaries of happenstance? I know not, for alas, such philosophies are beyond me. Only is it apparent that I must accept 'aught I cannot control. What more may any of us do?
Helluin nodded, but to clarify, she asked, So thou hast endured some bad luck?
Some 'bad luck', aye, one might say so, though to declare it thus would be to trivialize the litany of misfortunes to which I have been subjected. Alas, I have endured 'naught but challenges and trials, it claimed.
I shall not ask thee to name them…she began, but was cut off.
I had thought to live long, as is the way of real turtles, slowly passing the years, but some said I would change and fly. I have not changed and I cannot fly, nor am I a proper turtle either, and here it burst into a renewed flood of tears, sobbing piteously. I shall ne'er be 'aught more than I am. Oh, woe is me, to be saddled thus with such circumstances as I cannot amend.
The Noldo thought it unlikely that the creature would e'er change into 'aught that could fly. It might return to being a turtle one day, though that seemed scarcely more likely. Indeed, she was confounded and uncertain of what to think.
She was still undecided when a dark shadow swooped down and snatched the creature up in taloned feet. Ere the Noldo could protest its predation, the hunter landed in the upper branches of the tree and tore off the animal's hindquarters, swallowing these whole. Helluin squinted up into the rain and soon marked that 'twas a cat-sized Owl Gryphon, an animal seldom seen in the lowlands. It met her eyes unapologetically as it teased forth a string of entrails and swallowed them straightaway.
I was just conversing with that creature, Helluin said in exasperation, for 'twas still a mystery.
The Mawk Turtle? the gryphon asked. Thou wouldst have but wasted thy time, enduring its endless whining.
Mawk Turtle? 'Twas an animal unknown to me, having ne'er encountered one foretime.
Bah, said the Owl Gryphon. If thou wouldst know it, I shall cede to thee the remainder to sample. 'Tis said the head tastes best.
At this, Helluin threw up her hands. The gryphon shrugged and swallowed the Mawk Turtle's forequarters, discarding its empty shell that dropped to the ground.
I needed not to know its flavour, only what it is…was, and thou hast answered that, I suppose, the Noldo admitted with a touch of pique. Still, I would have asked it if it knew 'aught regarding the invaders of these lands, but I suppose t'would have been a futile enquiry as well.
T'would have been indeed, for Mawk Turtles are painfully self-absorbed. I wager thou mean the Dunlendings and those swarthy foreigners? asked the Owl Gryphon. At Helluin's enthusiastic nod 'aye', it said, They are scattered hither and thither to the west, but many linger 'round the fortress. In truth, I have paid them little heed for they are too big to eat.
Then I thank thee for thy tidings, night hunter, she said.
The gryphon bobbed its head, and then prepared to take its leave.
A fair night to thee, it said, heedless of the weather, now, on to the next. And with that, it took wing and was swallowed up in the rain and the darkness.
Helluin spent the remainder of that night standing in the rain 'neath the copse of trees. Functioning as an added lookout on the southern flank of the encampment, she marked 'naught untoward and there were no reports of foes or alarms of attacks that night. From her 'informants' amongst the local kelvar she had learnt 'naught unanticipated. The Mawk Turtle had been too fixated on its own suffering to have had any interest in wider events. The Owl Gryphon had cared 'naught for Men and their wars. And the horses had felt no danger lurking 'nigh and could not know of 'aught further than their eyes, ears, and noses told. Any threats or sources of danger had lain beyond the host and impinged not upon their peace that night.
The dawn of 17 Gwirith arrived with dim sunlight and continued rain 'neath o'ercast skies. Despite their grumbling, none of the Eorlingas deemed this unexpected. The spring rains had begun in earnest on 26 Gwaeron and typically lasted a month, so they reckoned that another week to a fortnight were yet to be endured. At least the temperatures were warming. After breaking their fasts, Helm gave the command and the host again set out west.
On that rainy day, they expected to maintain a walking pace 'til they reached Súthburg, and so the waggoneers hitched their full compliments of draft horses to the wagons. Each of the six was then drawn by a team of twelve and the labor for each horse was thereby reduced.
The éoreds had continued riding in a long column with two éoreds side by side using the full breadth of the road. Each éored rode in ranks two Men wide and sixty files in length with its captain centered at the head. That order was made so that whole éoreds could peel off to defend the right or left flanks in case of attacks. Forty éoreds were arranged thus, with the final three trailing the wagons as a rear guard.
After an hour, the host had reached the north-jutting spur of the Ered Nimrais. They saw the ground rising but two furlongs south of the road. There, forested slopes climbed to dark heights ere the trees failed 'neath barren walls where the cloud-obscured peaks still bore cloaks of snow. Through curtains of rain and sifting banks of fog, the sight of this landmark was welcome, for now their destination lay a known distance ahead. For the remaining score and one miles, the road would run close to the foothills though the distance would increase by a league as they approached the cleft in which Súthburg lay, guarding the head of a deep ravine. It took a full third of an hour for the host to pass the closest approach of the spur.
Now 'rounding the spur, the ground gently rose and fell in the first of three undulations as the foothills smoothed into the lowlands. The actual differences in elevation were minimal, scarcely enough that the troughs 'twixt the rises were a bit more saturated from the rain, though by virtue of the engineering of the king's road, 'twas not apparent to the Riders. The land beyond the paving was another matter. The ground there was muddier and footing for horse and Man less sure. The carpet of grass, lusher in summer, was sparser in winter and spring for being too wet to grow well early in the year.
Now the host walked up the second rise and passed down into the trough 'twixt the second and third undulations. The ground to either side was noticeably muddy there, and to the south, the open woods drew closer, within half a furlong of the road. Although 'naught amiss was visible to the Men, the horses snorted and some laid back their ears. Others turned their heads right and left, seeking for any sign of danger. Hildmearh acted as wary as the others.
"What sense thou, my friend?" Helluin asked the warhorse. The mare twisted her neck to meet the Noldo's eyes.
Weak scent of Man flesh on the heavy air, she said. We are not sure how close, but close enough to smell.
Helluin nodded to her and then turned to her left where Háma and Helm rode. The prince was stroking his mount's neck to calm him, but the king was already looking carefully at the land towards the mountains.
"My lords, the horses scent Men, faintly, but close enough to smell," she said.
"Could they be the Dunlendings attacking Súthburg?" the prince asked.
Helluin was about to tell him that the distance was too great and the breeze was not in the west, but the king was already reacting.
"Formation halt! Éoreds, open files!" he cried out.
As the order was passed down the line, the column stopped and the captains waved their éoreds to the sides, right and left. Soon, twenty éoreds stood off each side of the road facing the lands on their flanks.
"Wagons to the center!" the king called out once the road was clear.
Looking back through the rain, the Noldo marked the wagoneers urging their teams forward at a trot 'til they had come to the center of the formation. Tellingly, their escort of three éoreds had remained at the tail of the column and had turned to keep watch on the road behind.
If all had still been well, his next command would have been 'Éoreds recover', and they would have resumed their formation on the road with the wagons in the protected position at the center of the column, but Helm did not. Wily and wary, the veteran of many battles, he looked o'er and nodded to Helluin and his son.
"This ground is too wet for cavalry," he said softly, and the Noldo agreed with a nod. "Háma, command the northerly flank."
The prince eyed his father in surprise for a moment, but turned his horse and led his éored further off the road to wait beyond the line of Riders off the left flank.
"Éoreds, dismount! Archers, protect the wagons!" Helm ordered.
As he lifted his shield and spear, the king looked Helluin in the eyes, shifting his gaze for a moment to the steel bow o'er her shoulder, and then he said, "The wagons and the supplies they carry must come to Súthburg." She dipped her head to acknowledge his battle orders and then unshouldered her bow and drew an arrow.
And then Helm swung down from his saddle and took ten strides south towards the hills. His Men followed him, forming a defensive line two ranks deep running the full length of the column with their horses behind them along the edge of the road. Only the archers remained mounted, and they formed up ahead and behind the wagons, fitting arrows to their bowstrings and searching for targets.
Helluin looked 'round and a quick count made her new command three hundred mounted archers. Because not all éoreds had the same count of bowmen, there were two hundred ahead of the wagons and one hundred behind. They bore the relatively short, recurved bows of mounted archers, not the powerful longbows of the Elvish or Dúnedain hosts of old. Most measured just o'er four feet 'twixt the nocks and Helluin reckoned they drew at 'round forty to fifty pounds. Even a five-foot hunter's bow would have more power.
For a couple heartbeats, there was silence save only the sound of falling rain. Then Helm King raised his shield and clashed the shaft of his spear against it with a sharp crack. As one, his Men took up the challenge, five thousand strong. The sound grew 'til it thundered off the mountains, echoing back as a taunt to their unseen enemies. 'Cross the road, Prince Háma and his Men facing north did the same and the sound boomed 'cross the grassland.
Finally, kenning that they would enjoy no advantage from surprise this day, the Dunlendings broke from the woods and the hills. They charged down through the trees amidst the falling rain and shifting fog towards the road in a disorganized mob, no fewer than the king's Men.
More rose from the empty land to the north, numerous as Háma's éoreds, and their plot was revealed. They had hoped to assail the Rohirrim from both flanks, taking the column at unawares in the rain on wet and muddy ground where a mounted host would have no advantage.
Now the Eorlingas shouted insults and threats, and the Dunlendings replied in kind with whooping battle cries. Helluin marked that scarcely three in a hundred of them bore bows, hunting weapons no doubt, and no two with the same draw weight or arrow length. Still, their threat was real for 'twas a hundred and fifty hostile archers, all Men who had lived or starved by their chosen arms.
The horses shifted and neighed, reacting to the noise and approaching movement, showing the whites of their eyes. For them, standing still whilst a host of foemen charged down upon them was worse than galloping into battle. Their instinct was to run.
But Helluin called out to them, saying, "Ye are warhorses of the Eorlingas, bound by oath and honor to stand your ground and await your Riders as your kin have done since Felaróf carried Eorl from the north. Ye are loyal to your king and shall ne'er shy from battle!"
Then, though it seemed strange to some of the Men who looked on, the horses stilled and faced their charging foes with courage renewed, and they snorted and stamped in defiance as they waited behind their Riders, forming a third rank defending the road.
Having already arrows on their bowstrings, Helluin dispensed with the command to nock.
"Draw and hold!" she ordered, intending volley fire for its increased intimidation value. When the charging Dunlendings had come within seventy yards, she shouted "Loose!"
Less than half the attackers carried shields, and by instinct, the Rohirrim archers had targeted these. Their arrows exploded towards the Dunlendings in a concentrated cloud, roughly a hundred and a half in each direction north and south, and they found marks at a rate of two hits to one miss. 'Twas but a tithe of the foemen, the two hundreds struck, most of them wounded in varying degrees, though a few were killed outright, but they all fell well 'nigh together and their screams were welcome to the archers.
"Nock and draw!" Helluin immediately ordered, and again the mounted archers prepared their bows. The Dunlendings were crossing fifty-five yards now and the Noldo reckoned they would only get off one more volley. The Rohirrim were not nearly so swift to prepare as Elvish archers, or even the Riders from Norðr-vestandóttir Bý, but still, ere their foes came to forty yards, their bows were drawn and they had chosen targets.
"Loose!" the Noldo shouted, and a second volley of three hundred arrows shot out from the road and into the mobs of foes.
Again, roughly two hundreds were struck, but 'twas obvious to Helluin that ere the archers could prepare again, the lines afoot would clash and the danger of striking their own would be too great for volley fire into the fore of the attackers. The archers were hastening to nock their third arrows, but this time their orders were different.
"Shoot at will to protect the wagons! Target archers and watch for friends!" she called out.
The Dunlendings had charged to within twenty-five yards of the road when Helm gave the order to attack. Behind their wall of shields, the Rohirrim charged forward with leveled spears. They met their foes in motion and the first of the enemy were stopped dead in their tracks. The line held as Helm and his Men lunged with their spears and warded off blows of sword and axe with their shields. The archers continued shooting at those foes furthest to the rear, trying to diminish the intensity of the press on their comrades in the line.
Looking down from atop Hildmearh, Helluin groaned in exasperation. The Eorlingas did not seek to maintain close, ordered ranks within their formation. They charged forward recklessly, paying little heed to their lines, each Man more eager to slay the foe standing before them than to hold together and advance in a disciplined press that would have mowed down single swordsmen whilst protecting themselves behind a wall of shields.
Helluin remembered the Númenórean infantry in Eriador and the tales of Durin's host at Dagorlad during the Last Alliance, unified by their training and deadlier for it. By contrast, the Eorlingas fought as a mass of individuals. When some fell, it left holes in their ranks that none hastened to fill. In places, individual Dunlendings managed to penetrate the first and second lines so they had to be shot by the archers ere they could reach the horses or attack the wagons. This they considered normal, having ne'er learnt better tactics for massed footmen, being the skilled horsemen that they were.
The Noldo knew the situation would only grow worse as the fighting continued. Spears would be lost, their poles hewn by enemy blades or their points stuck in the bodies of slain foes. The Rohirrim would lose their advantage of distance and then the combat would be sword against sword, and axe against axe. She foresaw the battle degenerating into a melee of a few thousand individual combats.
There was 'naught that Helluin could do for it though. There was no way to school the Rohirrim to act like a cohesive army in a moment. With tactics so flawed, hope lay only in the courage and prowess of the individual Riders to withstand the brutality and violence of the enemy. The best she could do was to continue leading the archers in shooting any foes that penetrated the lines.
Now the combat indeed devolved into several thousand duels as the rain continued to fall. The boots of ten thousand Men churned the earth to mud, making footing treacherous. No few fighters had their contests decided by a leg slipping away so that their shield no longer faced an enemy's sword. No few died after losing their balance so that their stroke went astray and they could not recover in time to ward off the next blow. Neither the Eorlingas, nor the Dunlendings were spared from such ill fortune, and they fell in roughly equal numbers. Shouted curses rent the air as oft as battle cries and screams of pain.
Knowing the uncertainty of fighting in such conditions, where a moment's misfortune could negate a lifetime's training, Helluin managed to spare some few lives with accurately placed arrows. 'Twixt shooting stray Dunlendings who managed to penetrate the Rohirrim lines and targeting their archers who had remained at the rear of the melee, she tried to keep watch o'er the king. Twice in the first hour, she saved Helm from being slain after the ground betrayed him to some foeman's sword. Twice the son of Gram lurched back to his feet after Númenórean broadheads slammed his gloating enemies to the ground, transmuting certain death into deliverance.
How many times can this happen? the Noldo asked herself after her second save. A moment's need to another target could spell the end of his reign. 'Thou saw the founding of our rule and perhaps thou shalt see its end as well, but it shall not be this year, nor in this war,' Helm had said shortly after they had first met in Edoras, and yet his part could have ended twice in an hour of fighting. Helm hath seen sixty-seven winters, after all, she realized, and though still fell, he is a mortal Man and no longer in his prime. This cannot go on.
She had no sooner thought it than a trio of Dunlendings broke through the Rohirrim lines from the north. The mounted archers shot those dead, though it took nine of them to bring down three. Not a moment later, two dozen of the enemy fought their way 'round the western end of the Rohirrim lines, skirting the heaviest fighting on the southern flank to attack the wagons from the rear. The mounted archers behind the wagons turned to shoot them, but again, those who fell oft bore two or three non-lethal arrows. Though the incursion was foiled, six Riders were slain or gravely injured, slashed in the saddle or hauled down and o'erpowered on the road.
There was another side of the battle to which few of the Men fighting afoot paid heed. The Dunlending archers acted like the hunters Helluin reckoned they had been ere the invasion. They moved in relatively close, to 'round thirty yards, ere shooting. Then they fired using an almost flat trajectory, as if the sound of their bow would send their quarry to flight and success could come only from the swiftest, most direct path for their arrows. 'Twas just what one would do whilst stalking a deer, closing the distance to make a fatal shot more certain.
Of course, no one would pay any heed to the sound of them releasing arrows in the midst of a battle. Their bowstrings were drowned out completely, whilst closing to thirty yards meant that they were standing just beyond the melee. In their favor, a familiar range increased their accuracy and they enjoyed success shooting down mounted archers who sat above the head level of the Men fighting afoot. They were clear and easy targets.
Helluin had marked them from the start and had shot several, but after a Dunlendish arrow deflected off her mithril cuirass for the second time, she began shooting them in earnest. One after another they fell, for she ne'er missed, especially at such close range.
When, (but shortly after saving Helm's life for the second time), she had expended all of her arrows, she dismounted and culled arrows remaining in the quivers of several fallen Rohirrim. To her irritation, she found these sized for the Riders' bows and therefore three inches shorter than her own arrows. She was forced to short her draw and cede perhaps twenty-five pounds of draw weight from her bow's potential. In a state of increasing aggravation, she shot another twenty-eight enemy archers, and then she shouldered her bow.
Now the battle had been raging then for 'nigh an hour and a half. The rain had continued unbroken and the field was ground into mud, ankle deep in places. Casualties had grown on both sides as the fighters slipped more frequently and made more mistakes due to exhaustion.
An ear attuned to rhythm would have marked that the clashing of steel striking steel or drumming on wooden shields had noticeably slowed. Men circled each other now, with arm and shoulder muscles burning from the constant engagement, rather than exchanging furious flurries of blows. They panted for breath in each other's faces 'twixt gasping out insults, threats, and boasts. Yet both sides were so stubborn and so inured to hatred of the other that neither side would yield.
Seeing it all, Helluin drew Anguirél, took the Sarchram from its clip, and walked off the road. She picked out a Dunlending, bigger, richer dressed, and better armed than most and headed for him directly. On the way, she slung the Ring Blade so that it cut the throat of the Man facing Helm and ricocheted to fell three others ere returning to her hand. Then she blazed with the Light of Aman.
The sudden glare on that dim day seemed ghastly bright and it blasted the rain into steam. Men on both sides recoiled from the sight. A cloud of fog rose from the sodden ground, and out of it Helluin strode forward 'til she stood before the Dunlending she had chosen. Then she reduced her ril so that she maintained only an unnatural incandescence that was no longer blinding. In shock, he raised his sword in defense and gritted his teeth, expecting to die.
"None win and both lose this day," she told him in the Common Speech whilst staring him in the eyes. "Both should quit the fight. Another battle on another day shall come."
Strangely, she made sense. He would fight again and again, 'til the hated straw-heads were driven from these fair lands. He expected his enemies would fight again and again to stay.
"Many need healing of their wounds. Take them so they can fight again," she said. "The enemy will do the same."
He broke from her glance a moment to look 'round, and he saw so many of his people lying dead and injured, Men who served him in Wulf's name. Some he had known for many years, good Men who hoped for better than they had. At least it seemed that an equal count of his enemies lay on the field hurt just as bad. Finally, he looked back at the stranger, for she was dark-haired just like his folk, and though her skin was pale, she was no Rider of Rohan. He nodded once in agreement, and then raised his voice to his warriors.
"We go! Fight another day! Bring the hurt!" Then he walked away.
All 'round the field, Dunlendings stepped away from Rohirrim, checked their fallen, and helped their wounded to rise. And when all was done, they walked back into the woods whence they had come. To the north of the road, the fighters also parted, for the Dunlending commander's voice had carried to their ears as well.
When 'twas obvious that the battle had ended and their foes were withdrawing, the Rohirrim went to aid their fallen. The wounded were given field treatment to staunch bleeding or splint broken bones. The dead were lifted, lain 'cross their saddles, and tied to their horses. Then Men mounted. Helluin remained behind a while to recover her arrows from the slain. When she returned to Hildmearh, Helm was waiting for her.
"I owe thee my life twice o'er this day, Helluin, and I thank thee for that," he said, and she dipped her head to honor his words. "Would that we could have finished them this day."
The Noldo nodded, for all folk had wishes that could not be met.
"This was not a battle thou could have won no matter how long it went on. Many have fallen on both sides, but we have learnt two things," she said, and marked that he hearkened to her. "If Súthburg is invested, there shall be more such fighting on the walls and before the gates."
The king nodded in agreement and his face was grim at the prospect of further battles afoot that might end in a bloody draw.
"And what else?" What is the second thing we have learnt?"
"That Wulf is elsewhere, mayhap besieging Súthburg, but he was not commanding this attack."
The king nodded for he kenned her meaning. This host, equal in count to his own, was secondary and Wulf had not deigned to command it. 'Twas but an auxiliary part of his strategies.
Neither said what they both feared, that he was not at the fortress either, but off somewhere else, perhaps flanking them wide to the north and marching on Edoras.
To Be Continued