Disclaimer: See Chapter 2
Notes to Reviewers:
Ellfine: I think the modern incarnation of Eonwe is more likely to get the girl, but it would cause some lovely complications if a ménage a trois occurred wouldn't it? Hmm, the Nuzgul is nibbling gently on my big toe! I hadn't originally intended to let the cat out of the bag about there being two Eonwe's this early, but then I realised that since this next chapter leads up to Rion and the Noruthalion (the Noldor elf who Rion keeps encountering) meeting Gary, I would have to gently let everyone in on the secret.
I know the Manwe shedding flesh 'thing' is weird! It's just that I have this crazy notion that the Valar and the Maiar would be able to literally step out of their corporeal bodies as easily as we shed our clothes.
Pink Panther: I don't know that I qualify as a hero, but thank you anyway! I enjoyed my time in the army. I had a lot of fun and met a lot of people, not to mention gained a lot of experience. Service in a theatre of war allowed me to look at life, and death, with a different perspective. I find that since leaving, I am so much more attuned to the earth and life and a lot less materialistic. The first quote at the beginning of the chapter is dedicated to you!
To both: Varda can't resist poking her slender fingers into the pie. She loves Eonwe like a son and like most mothers, wants to see her little boy happy with the right girl. However she also has a sneaking sympathy for the mortals trapped in the wrong time and realises that it's not their fault that they've ended up in Middle-earth in the middle of a war, they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Even Gary's presence wasn't part of the plan, it is just an 'unfortunate series of events'! Olorin's (Gandalf) part in the mystery is still being developed since that came about from his character tapping me on the shoulder at the end of the last chapter and demanding to know when he would get a mention. The bugger crept in behind my back and now I have to write him in!
Chapter 17 – Praise the Valar and pass the ammunition
"We have women in the military, but they don't put us in the front lines.
They don't know if we can fight or if we can kill. I think we can.
All the general has to do is walk over to the women and say,
"You see the enemy over there? They say you look fat in those uniforms."
– Elaine Boosler
"We, the willing, led by the unknowing,
are doing the impossible for the ungrateful.
We have now done so much for so long with so little,
we are now capable of doing anything with nothing."
- Old Navy Quote
The camp of Ereinion Gil-galad, north of Nargothrond, where the River Ginglith meets the River Narog
Night had finally fallen after an eventful day fraught with far rumblings from deep in the bowels of Middle-earth. Gil-galad's small, but determined, force had finally approached what would have been the borders of the realm of Nargothrond had it still existed and had not quite reached the field of Tumhalad where the fateful encounter between the armies of the elf-lord Orodreth of Nargothrond and Glaurung had taken place. The army had been subsequently routed and those elves that remained behind were greeted by the sight of the dragon and his orcs crossing the bridge into the citadel instead of a victorious Orodreth.
Although no one had spoken of it and they had given the ruins of the sacked citadel a wide berth, each and every elf could feel the presence of many sad souls. Gil-galad was reluctant to make camp in a place filled with such melancholy and sadness, yet his people were tired with the pace he had set. They needed to rest, but they also needed to press on and had they but known it, they were ultimately heading for the same place that Eonwe had chosen to rest the Host, and for the same reason, replenishment of food by hunting for what game there was left.
The underlying anxieties attached to the minor earth tremors had also caused many tempers to fray. Celeborn was feeling the separation from his lady and although he could communicate with her from far away, this did not alleviate the overwhelming desire just to tell her to get out of Sirion and move up the coast. He held his tongue, however, knowing that Galadriel would not react too well to any hysterical outbursts of his. She would remain until the last living thing was sent to safety, including the last dockyard cat. He knew her too well and grimly kept his feelings to himself despite an almost overwhelming feeling of impending disaster.
On one hand he regretted giving in to Ereinion's request for his presence on this fool's mission, on the other hand he would be damned if he'd allow those Light Elves from Aman to stomp all over the land of his birth without so much as a by your leave. Celeborn had not entirely been in agreement with Earendil's journey to seek help, not because he didn't think they needed it, but because he knew that when all was over, he could well be faced with a few hard choices. The notion that Galadriel may want to leave for Aman was at the forefront of those choices.
Would he leave the place of his birth where he had his roots? Could he leave? Even at the command of the Valar or the pleading of his wife? Celeborn had no yearning for the light of Aman, and, fortunately or unfortunately depending on one's point of view, Galadriel still had a strong desire to rule some sort of realm of her own. However if her father King Finarfin rode with the host and they eventually met up, as was inevitable, would that not all change? Perhaps after all this time she would want to be with her family again. It wasn't as if either of them had any strong ties here as far as kin was concerned.
It was just that the thought of ending up as some minor vassal of a Noldorin King did not exactly fill him with joy. He could just hear the comments from those high and mighty Calaquendi as he and Galadriel strolled the streets of Tirion.
"Who is that chap with Finarfin's girl again?"
"Ah now that would be that Moriquendi she married from Middle-earth. Strange folk, although what can you expect from those who never saw the Light of the Two Trees? He doesn't really have anything to offer a princess. Can't think why she married him in the first place. She could have done so much better."
Celeborn wasn't the type to desire or grasp power greedily, but all the same he could definitely imagine being compared with any of the highborn Elves of Aman and coming out on the negative side of the comparison.
And what of the Middle-earth? He didn't think he could leave it just yet; he was not weary of it and truthfully didn't think he ever would be.
He tried to cast off the despondent thoughts which only insisted on revolving around and around in his head and sighed, then he stood up from his position by the softly glowing embers of the campfire and drained the dregs of his wine cup. Gil-galad had ordered a halt for the night and Celeborn for one had been grateful of it, even though he could feel the strange haunted atmosphere of the surrounding environment very strongly. There was a distinct feeling of being overlooked and he wasn't the only one to feel it. The young warrior who had been assigned to the horses had been grooming one of them and Celeborn noticed that he constantly stopped to look around and behind him as though he was convinced that there was some unseen presence.
Celeborn idly wondered if Orodreth had actually answered the call of Mandos, or whether his houseless spirit still wandered the fields of Nargothrond and Tumhalad and was attracted to the small army of living elves. He could definitely see that happening in this dreary place. Of course Orodreth would not have known the ultimate fate of his daughter Finduilas, but he must have guessed at it if the city was sacked. Celeborn shuddered and thanked the heavens that he and Galadriel did not have children. There was a good reason why elves chose not to have young ones during time of war.
He stretched and every line of his slim lithe body was visible in the moonlight and glow from the fire. It was no use sitting here contemplating a fate that might never come. He could be killed in battle himself and that would solve everything. Perhaps Mandos would take one look at this Dark Elf and throw away the key forever.
A wry smile touched his firmly sculpted mouth. It was time to check the guard since he had volunteered to command the first watch. He laid a few more small branches on the fire to keep it stoked through the night and moved soundlessly through the trees.
Glorfindel watched him go and smiled. The thoughts of the Lord Celeborn were written plainly all over his face. He was patently and visibly worried about the aftermath of this war and wondering where his place might be in the scheme of things. He was not so far removed from Gil-galad in this. They had much in common if only they did but know it. Glorfindel cast a look over towards the small hastily erected tent where Gil-galad held his battle order groups. A single candle still flickered behind the light material of the tent and caused the two current occupants, Gil-galad himself and Cirdan to be reflected in grotesque shadow. They were obviously burning the midnight oil discussing the route of the march on the morrow.
Well one thing was for sure, he was not going to do himself any favours by not sleeping, so he rolled onto his back, folded his hands across his chest and let himself slide into the reverie of dreams and wakefulness that comprised Elven sleep.
He was awoken a short while later by the sounds of a low altercation.
Celeborn had immediately recognised both of the cloaked intruders as Elves from Aman, the unearthly light that glowed in their eyes and which mirrored the light behind his Galadriel's eyes gave them away almost immediately.
The taller was Vanyarin without a doubt. His golden hair spoke volumes all on its own. He was larger in build compared to his dark-haired slender companion and his musculature was more defined. The glow that emanated from all Elves was much enhanced in these warriors from the west and though their bearing was courteous, there was an edge of superiority that flowed from each that set Celeborn's teeth on edge.
"Identify yourselves." He ordered abruptly.
Rion and Noruthalion both bowed low to the silver-haired Moriquendi who was challenging their presence in the camp. This tall elf-lord was quite obviously not one of the Noldor, in fact his colouring stated clearly that he was most likely of Teleri descent, perhaps some kinsman of Elwe Singollo, who had remained on Middle-earth even after experiencing the light of the Two Trees after meeting the Maia Melian. He had subsequently become known as Elu Thingol and had married Melian.
Eonwe had warned them both to be extra courteous in their bearing and behaviour among the Moriquendi. Not all of the elves on Middle-earth welcomed the host's interference, he had told them, and they must be circumspect and respectful at all times.
Rion glanced at Noruthalion who quirked a cynical dark eyebrow at him but said nothing. The silver-haired elf lord who stood glowering at them among the trees also raised an enquiring silver brow and Rion felt as though he had been caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. He decided on the charming, friendly approach.
"My Lord. We come from Lord Eonwe, the Commander of the Host of the West and Herald to Lord Manwe Sulimo, Lord of the Breath of Arda and the Elder King."
Celeborn's expression darkened slightly and he sucked in a deep, irritated breath. "I know who Eonwe is." He said shortly. Did these impudent children think he was ignorant? "Presumably you were charged by Eonwe with some purpose in coming here."
Rion flushed and Celeborn watched with some little fascination as a crimson tide spread over the youth's neck and face. He is very young. Thought Celeborn wryly. Not too far from his majority I would wager. He should not be here where only death or an uncertain future awaits him. He should be without a care,
dancing with the maidens in the gardens of the Vanyar.
Yet in the back of the youth's eyes Celeborn could see a faint lurking hardness that told him the young warrior had already seen both battle and death. His mood softened slightly. "Perhaps you have a missive of some kind from Lord Eonwe?"
His tone was kinder and Rion felt a little more confident. Hopefully this wasn't the High King and he hadn't made a terrible first impression. He fumbled in his pack and produced a folded parchment that bore an impressive looking red seal. "Yes indeed my Lord…?"
"Celeborn." Celeborn supplied helpfully. "I am Celeborn, Prince of Doriath, kinsman of Elu Thingol and one of the High King's advisors." He held out his hand. "Is this for him? I will see that he gets it. You will obviously stay with us tonight to rest yourselves and your mounts and can travel back to the army of the Valar in the morning with the answer, if there is need for one." His tone was polite, but dismissive.
Relief flooded Rion's face when Celeborn confirmed that he wasn't Gil-galad, but then he blushed again. To hand over Lord Eonwe's letter and then go back had not been his orders from the Herald, but how to say this to this implacable looking, very scary, tall silver lord with the silver eyes and not sound forward or presumptuous was going to be difficult, if not impossible.
Even as Celeborn grasped the parchment, Rion made to hold it back and a rather extraordinary tug of war took place for a next minute or so. The young Vanyarin now had a rather desperate expression on his face and both of Celeborn's eyebrows had climbed up towards his hairline. Some of the red wax of the seal crumbled away in the tussle and flaked gently to the ground.
By this time Glorfindel was properly awake. He got up, leaned against the bole of a tree and watched the growing altercation with rather cynical amusement. After a few moments he was joined by Erestor and Gildor.
"What is going on?" Erestor asked curiously. Gildor masked a huge yawn and peered sleepily at the tableau in front of them.
"We appear to have two visitors from the Blessed Realm." Glorfindel jerked his head towards the red-faced, and slightly harassed looking Vanyarin Elf and his dark-haired companion, who had been silent up to now. "Seems they have some letter for Gil-galad and don't want to let go of it." He gave a chuckle. "I was just betting with myself on the odds of it ripping straight down the middle and ending up unreadable by anybody."
Gildor shook his head and laughed. Erestor gave a deep sigh. "How typical of Celeborn to scare the living daylights out of a couple of babies. It's all that forbidding Dark Elf aura he constantly churns out. Nobody realises that his bark is actually worse than his bite."
A spurt of laughter escaped Glorfindel. "Perhaps his lady should teach him the art of charm and explain that not everyone wants to cut the trees down!"
Gildor gave a bark of laughter. "He would do far better to learn charm from our dour Shipwright than Lady Galadriel. Charm is not yet one of her attributes, forthrightness and blunt devastating honesty are more her way. She and Celeborn make a good pair. Of what, I hesitate to say." He turned back to his blanket roll. "Ah well, if this is all the excitement on offer for the night I think I might just close my eyes awhile longer. Let me know if Celeborn and our golden friend come to blows. That might be worthy of me losing my beauty sleep."
"Of which you need much." Erestor murmured provocatively.
Gildor grinned cheerfully at him. "I heard that. You are no stunning portrait yourself, let me tell you."
Glorfindel laughed. This was a constant jibing match between those two, which afforded much amusement among the troops, and the irony was that both were as fair as each other. "Well neither of you compare to me." He struck a flamboyant pose, thrust his finely shaped chin in the air and tempestuously shook his abundant golden hair over his shoulders.
Neither Gildor nor Erestor attempted to dignify the comment, except for a low muttered "Fiddlesticks" from Erestor as he and Gildor settled themselves back down beside the fire. Glorfindel chuckled and joined them after a few seconds.
Meanwhile, back at the altercation, things were not going well. An impasse had been reached and neither proponent was willing to back down.
Noruthalion could see the angry frustration in Rion's eyes and realised that the young warrior had taken his idol's instructions extremely literally, yet had not yet recovered the wit to explain himself properly. He rolled his eyes heavenward and spoke for the first time.
"My Lord Celeborn. Please do not take offence, but our orders from Lord Eonwe were that we were to remain after we had given Lord Gil-galad the letter into his hands alone. It is more than likely that the…High King will want to speak with us regarding the contents."
Celeborn dropped his hand and inclined his head. The slight hesitation in the Noldor's voice as he referred to Gil-galad as the High King was not lost on him and Celeborn realised that it must be strange for this young elf whose allegiance was to his liege lord Finarfin, High King of the Noldor, to refer to another with the same title. Especially since that particular High King was a descendent of the infamous kinslayers.
"I see." He said shortly and beckoned. "Come this way then, I will take you to the High King."
In turn, he emphasised the title. It wasn't that he felt he owed Ereinion Gil-galad any allegiance as a monarch, but he was damned if he was going to let these Light Elves know that. Besides which, he was also damned if he was going to let them cast doubts upon Ereinion and his claim to the title either. This was not the Blessed Isle and the sooner these whelps realised that, the better off they would be.
Pride ever goeth before a fall my love. A teasing, but much beloved voice tugged at his mind. As much as we might resent their presence, we need the Host. We cannot fight against Morgoth Baugir alone and without the intervention of the Valar all Middle-earth will come under shadow. You know this as well as I.
I know. He replied softly with a melancholic sigh. But I would not want them to get the idea that we are all puling, week-kneed creatures who cannot stand up for ourselves either.
Galadriel's silvery laughter sounded like bells in his head. Indeed no my Lord. You have the young Vanyarin positively quaking in his shoes, although the other is so far unimpressed.
Celeborn smiled wickedly to himself and pushed aside the tent flap. "My Lord King." He stepped into the tent followed by Rion and Noruthalion and gave a rather startled Ereinion the deepest bow he had ever given him in their entire acquaintanceship. The High King took an involuntary step back and looked slightly alarmed. "There are two messengers here with a letter for you from Lord Eonwe."
As he stood up and met the High King's bemused grey eyes, he almost burst out laughing at the comical look of surprise in them and Cirdan looked no less startled or confused.
Too much? He queried of his love so far away.
A gurgle of laughter was all he received by way of a reply.
Gil-galad finished speaking and looked around at the faces in his now crowded tent. A variety expressions could be seen from shock to utter disbelief. He held his hands out and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I take it that you all understand what is being asked of us?" He asked quietly.
That question unlocked the floodgates and unleashed a furore of voices all trying to speak at once. Ereinion winced and sat down. When he looked up it was to stare directly into the eyes of Eonwe's warriors. The Vanyar, the one called Rion, merely stared back with friendly interest, the dark grey eyes of the Noldor revealed sympathy for the King's dilemma.
"Why does he ask us to do this?" Demanded Celeborn. "To keep us out of the way no doubt." He folded his arms and leant against one of the tent poles which wobbled dangerously. "I tried to tell you that the Valar do not want to involve the Elves of Middle-earth in this battle."
"They probably think we've done enough damage." Cirdan volunteered. There was more than a hint of dry humour in his voice. "Still, the idea of these mortals and their weapons being here does not sound at all well to me."
Celebrimbor who had been lounging in the tent opening now stepped through and stood in front of the Rion and Noruthalion. He produced Kim's missing assault rifle from behind his back and held it out to them "These weapons Eonwe speaks of, are they like this?"
Rion and Noruthalion looked uneasily at each other. The Herald had not described the weapons other than to say that to allow them to fall into the enemy's hands would be very dangerous indeed. This thing that the Feanorian was showing them looked cold and deadly. It looked as though it did not belong here, which of course, it didn't.
"I do not know my Lord." Rion answered softly. "Lord Eonwe did not describe them to us, but I would imagine that this is one of them."
Celebrimbor nodded, then he turned to Ereinion. "If there are more of these and they are on their way to Morgoth, then we must intercept the carrier. If this does what I think it does, which is fire multiple small projectiles at high speed and immense velocity, then even one would create great damage. Many of them would decimate the Host before they even had time to draw a bow or unsheathe a sword."
There was a shocked silence, then where there had been vociferous disagreement before, there were now murmurs of agreement which filtered through the tent and Ereinion stood up with a sigh. "I agree. We must do as Eonwe asks and lend a hand to the mortals. However this means travelling back towards Nan Tathren. And the orc that has the weapons may be well on the road to the north by now."
"We need to send out a small scouting party to search for tracks and another larger party to find the mortals." Celeborn stated firmly. "The whereabouts of the rest of the weapons must be ascertained as well as the current location of their owners."
Ereinion glanced at Rion and Noruthalion. "It is Eonwe's wish that you remain with my force for the time being, at least until this matter is resolved. So shall it be." The two elves bowed their heads in silent assent. Ereinion beckoned to Glorfindel. "Two more warriors for your guard Lord Glorfindel, deploy them as you see fit and see that they and their horses have food and rest. It will be dawn in three hours and we have much to do."
Glorfindel smiled and bowed. "As you command my Lord King." He left the tent taking Rion and Noruthalion with him.
Once the others had left, Ereinion, Celebrimbor, Celeborn and Cirdan held a council of war to discuss the extraordinary situation that had been placed squarely in their hands and would more than likely prevent them from joining up with the main force of the host.