Chapter 12 - Amon Ereb

Tinuial trembled with cold as she and Carnil returned to where Thaliondil lay in slumber. They had resolved to tell him of all that had befallen, and attempt to prove to him that their love was indeed true. Yet they were hesitant to tell him of the doom of Carnil, as it may not bode well for them. Thaliondil certainly would not think better of Carnil were he to discover the truth of him, yet as Tinuial pondered the situation, she wondered with a start if her brother knew or guessed aught of Carnil already. It would certainly account for his pervious behaviour. She frowned. Her pale, rain-lashed face became solemn as she fell into deep thought. Erdal had now joined them, and strode a little behind Carnil, looking about him warily as though he feared that danger was close. The clouds above glowered down upon the sodden earth and smote the rocky hills with myriad tiny spears of dark rain. The air was thick and misted, and little could they see in the gloom, and yet at last they found their way back to Thaliondil. Yet he did not slumber, but sat upon the ground in silent thought. He looked up as they approached, grimacing and silent. He had unveiled the lantern, and its sharp light fell across his sullen face, and made his clear grey eyes glint and flicker like cold stars. His hair clung in dark strands to the sides of his face. He glanced at Carnil with unmitigated dislike, and noted cooly that he clasped the hand of Tinuial.

'You have returned,' he said, glaring at Carnil, and his voice sounded chill as ice. 'I did not wish it.'

'We have no chioce but to put our differences aside, for a time!' Carnil said hurriedly, ignoring the frosty manner with which Thaliondil addressed him. 'I fear that this place is unsafe. We must flee, and swiftly!' Thaliondil drew himself to his feet, a look of disdain upon his face.

'I shall do as I see fit,' he replied waspishly. 'And no orders do I take from you.'

'This is no order!' Carnil chided indignantly. 'Yet I swear to you that danger approaches this land. You cannot remain! And you certainly must not keep on as you are now going! Upon my life, I cannot allow Tinuial to travel South!'

'No claim do you have over my sister!' Thaliondil exclaimed scornfully.

'No more than you, I deem.' Carnil muttered darkly, and Thaliondil's eyes narrowed as he glared into the grim face of Carnil.

'Do you not value your lives?' Tinuial shouted against the roar of the wind, 'I beg you to put an end to this foolishness, for much is at stake! If we are in such peril, then we would do better to flee from it than to remain here caught in endless debate!' She turned to Thaliondil. 'My brother, do you not feel the dark power that draws close? I think that you do! Only you would sooner march to your death than take advice from one from whom you hate. Though why you despise Carnil so, I do not know.'

'Were it not for him, no danger would there be!' Thaliondil cried harshly. 'Is that not so, son of Nuromen?' Carnil looked away hurriedly, his eyes flashing either with anger of grief.

'Then it is as I thought,' Tinuial murmured in disbelief. 'All this time you knew of the origins of Carnil, and yet you said naught to me!'

'She now knows all.' Carnil articulated clearly, his face hard and stern as he looked none too kindly at Thaliondil.

'No longer shall I obey you, my brother,' Tinuial exclaimed with all the force she could muster. 'And in this matter I cannot abide by your judgement. Carnil and I shall not be parted.'

'I desire only to see you safe.' Thaliondil said softly, now sounding almost forlorn. There was a long, heavy silence, ruffled only by the gathering wind.

'We must hasten!' Carnil shouted, yet Thaliondil simply stared up into the seething billows of cloud which enveloped the sky like the incoming tide. His face was strangely weary and taut, and his grey eyes glimmered fitfully in the glare of the lantern.

'Then we shall go.' Thaliondil said, lowering his face.

Some hours had passed, and such was the ferocity of the ongoing storm that though the sun had begun to rise, the world still seemed buried deep in night. Tinuial clutched the arm of Carnil as she crossed the sodden ground, and fought against the ragged wind which caused her drenched hair to flutter wildly about her face. The four companions had spoken no words to one another since they had begun to journey, for there seemed to Tinuial that there was too much to say. Her mind was infested with such a terrible confusion that she did not know quite how to begin, and feelings of love, devotion, fury, hatred and grief were all mingled within her heart, and welled up inside her as she recalled the past events. Now more than ever she needed rest, and time to sort the chaos within her mind. Though exhaustion lay heavily upon her and made every halting second seem occupied by years of torment, rest was an unattainable luxury, for they were in great need of haste. She could only thank the hidden stars above that Carnil had not forsaken her, and so she did with every trembling step. Her gaze strayed to Thaliondil, who walked before her and Carnil. Through the mist of rain he seemed blurred, yet his mechanical strides were no less severe and uncompromising as he stalked ever onwards. Something in the fierceness with which he moved seemed to draw them on behind him, and not once did he falter upon the uneven ground, or slow his pace. Neither did he look back at his companions, and Tinuial perceieved that she had angered him. At first she puzzled silently over the fact that Thaliondil had known the truth of Carnil ere she had herself. Strange this seemed to her, and the only feasible explanation was that Erdal had told him something; for surely he had known. Tinuial cast one mistrustful glance at Erdal, who walked a little to the left of Thaliondil, and wondered why he could not have kept the information to himself at least for a time, as it would have saved much anguish.

'We must stop!' She cried at length through the downpour, with a suddenness which startled her companions. She did not wish to be a burden, and yet she felt that she could not take another step.

'I see that you are weary,' Carnil said hurriedly. 'Yet we cannot remain here!'

'Weary, you say?' Exclaimed Thaliondil, as he turned back and beheld his sister, 'By the look of her, she is near dead!' It was true, for she was pale as a wraith, and could barely keep her eyes open. She shook visibly, and her touch was colder than ice.

'Evil approaches,' Carnil muttered, gazing into the West, from whence they had come. 'I feel it as its strength grows.' All the land was now steeped in grey, teeming rain, and the falling deluge clung to the air like an infinite curtain of cold, raging water. Very little could be discerned, yet the growing sense of menace appeared to float upon the air, and seep from the very earth.

'From the South-West it comes.' Erdal said solemnly, voicing the words that dwelt within all their hearts. 'Where lies the forest of Taur-im-Duinath!' The abode of Morlach. Tinuial mouthed silently.

'We cannot outrun those who approach.' Erdal continued slowly.

'Then we must fight.' Thaliondil cried, his eyes burning.

'We cannot hope to win such a battle!' Carnil cried miserably. 'I alone of you can have any notion of how fierce the assault may be. And our company is small - four alone shall avail nothing. We would be overcome within minutes.' He drew his hand over his eyes to shield them from the clattering rain.

'Then we must hide.' Erdal said abruptly, 'I know this land! If we keep on as we are going, we shall come shortly to Amon Ereb, and there we may lie hid!'

'My friend, what madness is this? Have you lost all sense of reason?' Carnil demanded in shock, 'They will be drawn to us! Already they follow our trail, I guess.'

'What choice have we?' Erdal cried, his flaxen hair hanging limp about his face, and casting droplets of cold water into his weary eyes. He turned, and strode into the East, where the pale dawn glowed dully with a soft, milky light. Yet the fearsome black clouds still groaned with surging rain, and the storm showed no signs of ceasing. Once more Thaliondil and Erdal began to stride Eastwards, as though their decision had been made, and was final. Tinuial staggered on, and she eyed Erdal suspiciously. It seemed to her that he led them into greater danger. She gazed at Carnil.

'I do not wish to hide.' She murmured, 'For surely we will be discovered! And escape will be near impossible!' Carnil turned to her, his green eyes haggard and sorrowful.

'If we act as Erdal counsels, then I guess it will result in the death of this company.' He answered darkly. Tinuial stared at him, her dark eyes wide with dismay.

'I pray that you are mistaken,' She whispered softly.

Tinuial beheld the next few days through a murky haze of exhaustion and rain, darkened by a sense of dread which ever pursued them. They had left the rocky hills behind, and the Ramdal had faded into the Western distance. The hill of Amon Ereb loomed like a cloud of darkness before them, and as they drew closer, it soared ever higher into the dim sky. Though the companions allowed themselves very little rest, ever the dark power seemed to draw closer, threatening to overtake them, although no sign of peril could be seen.

'Whither do we go?' Tinuial asked blankly, pushing her damp hair from her eyes.

'We are climbing the first slopes of Amon Ereb.' Carnil replied, 'For Erdal said he knows of a place where we may take cover, and hide from unfriendly eyes. He says it is not much further.'

All was not well with Tinuial, and it seemed that she was assalied by fever. It became progressively worse as the days passed her by. She would shiver with cold, and yet her face burned and was hot to the touch. The world slowly faded before her eyes, until she beheld the face of Carnil through a dark, swirling mist of confusion. She now stumbled upon the gentle slopes which became gradually more steep and sheer, clutching Carnil's arm as though it were her last hope. The air was chill and frosty, and for a time the soft, drenching rain was replaced by merciless hail, which scattered itself fitfully upon the sodden earth. Day faded. The sharp hailstones glimmered reluctantly in the dying twilight, as they sliced the air like the jagged shards of an infinite broken mirror.

'We have reached the place!' Came Erdal's voice from the shadows before Tinuial.

She forced her eyes open. The world was bluured, and pieces of ice cascaded from the dark heavens, driven in swirling paths through the air by the vicious wind until they finally smote the tortured earth with a muffled crash. Before them lay a slope, like a slanted, diagonal sheet of rock upon the hillside. Near the base of the flat slope was a small opening.

'It is as I remember it.' Erdal said with discernible relief, 'Beyond that opening lies a cavern. We may fit inside, and there be concealed from unfriendly eyes.' He climbed carefully into the cavern.

'We shall be discovered,' Carnil muttered softly, gazing uncertainly at the Western horizon. To his horror, his gaze was abruptly met by the dull flicker of distant flame. He shivered. 'They know we have come this way!'

'They cannot have yet seen us.' Thaliondil replied, his grey eyes full of doubt. 'You say that swords cannot avail us. If so, then to evade them is the only choice left to us.' He turned, and made his way to the cavern.

Tinuial spoke no word as she was half-dragged through the opening and into the heavy darkness beyond. She lay upon the hard, rocky ground for some time, breathing feverishly. She drifted gently in and out of consciousness, her mind troubled by imaginings of darkness. The hail clattered on, and the low groan of thunder lingered upon the edge of hearing. She opened her eyes, and saw in the glimmer of the flickering lightning, the grey weary face of Carnil, who knelt beside her in silence.

'I think I shall die,' she said slowly, her voice veined with weakness.

'You will get well!' he whispered, his eyes gazing mournfully at her ghostly white face. She lay there so delicate and slender, like a broken statue of cold, white marble.

'Do not leave me.' she murmured, without knowing why. Her eyes closed, and she fell into an uneasy slumber.

'I shall remain by your side,' he kissed her brow softly, and clutched desperately at her quaking hand. 'I promise.'

Tinuial saw no more that night, save the blank mist of fever which had descended upon her, yet the voices of those she knew welled up ever and anon inside her mind, though they seemed distant and confused:

They approach, they approach!

Panic surged beneath the words; they sounded urgent, yet she did not stir.

You have led us into a trap!

Though she herself remained still, the darkness seemed to spiral about her, and engulf her like the vast, hideous wings of vultures. She heard cries, terrible cries. Shouts echoed through the halls of her misted mind, but she could discern no more than the occasional snatch of words, the odd shard of meaning, before it was torn from her mind's grasp.

I cannot allow it! Why would you do this deed?

She was being swallowed by shadow, and there could be no escape...

May I be forgiven...

The sound of weeping tore through the darkness, and anguish floated upon the air. Yet it was remote; it did not touch her.

I cannot allow it...I cannot!

The voices still echoed through her dreams, more distant now. The harsh cries rose to a violent, hideous crescendo, and a clear voice spoke out against them, familiar, and yet not so. The cries faded, and died, yet the weeping remained. The last words rang out through the gloom.

May I be forgiven...

Tinuial strayed into the darkness, and heard no more.