Incunabulum 2: Arrangements
The elves left the council chamber with relief. Usually Elrond's councils lasted much longer than that one had—due to there being almost invariably someone present who needed to be filled in on a lot of historical background. Thankfully there had been no such person in this instance, although Hrothmar, as he left the room, wondered about Elladan's allusion to the torture of Elrond's wife in the orc dungeons. He had rather wished when the subject had come up that Lord Elrond would tell them the whole story, but he hadn't thought it polite to ask about it.
Hrothmar was a black-haired elf, a sort characterised by dry and saturnine tempers and which tended to be as atypical as the proverbial black sheep. He expressed his chief emotions through his eyebrows, which were heavy and black with stray hairs sticking up at odd angles like spikes on a wall. The only features that relieved the general dishonesty of his face were his eyes, which were pale grey and singularly open and frank.
The elves descended the stairs in company, the two sons of Elrond discussing the proposed war with whoever was interested. There was much to be planned for such a great venture. Hrothmar and Halrodil did not care for practical planning and hurried on ahead into the court below. There they found, standing by a tree and handling some weapons left there, the two rangers Galadriel had mentioned.
"Here, those are ours," said Halrodil, who didn't like strangers—particularly not strangers touching his weapons.
"Nice blade, man," said the ranger. "Is it elven make?"
"Yes, it is," said Hrothmar, taking it from him without ceremony. "I made it myself."
"No, seriously?"
"Do you know who's in charge here?" asked the other ranger. "I thought we were supposed to be hunting orcs, but we don't seem to be doing anything."
"Er, you'll have to talk to Elrohir about that,' said Hrothmar. "He's over there, I think."
Findor strode up and picked up a sword from the ground. He held it at arm's length and dropped a hair crosswise on the blade.
"The blades of the Wood-elves are not so keen as those of Lorien," he remarked, thrusting it back into the sheath and handing it to Halrodil, to whom it belonged.
"There's nothing wrong with it," said Hrothmar. "It glows blue when orcs are nearby just like any elvish model."
"Odd shape," said Findor. "You must have learned metalwork from the dwarves."
"Yes, all right, I studied from dwarvish textbooks, but I spent four years in the Lothlorien school."
"One doesn't learn in four years what it took a thousand years for our kind to learn in the lands to the west," said Findor, with a scornful curve to his hollow cheeks.
Hrothmar stared after him as he strode away. "They're such snobs," he said. The rangers looked surprised but agreed.
Hrothmar and Halrodil collected their weapons from the ground. Even with the orcs defeated for a time, travel was dangerous across much of Middle Earth and it was customary to carry multiple weapons—in case you happened to lose some. Halrodil had carried an elven bow ever since his hair was long enough to string one, besides several knives of various lengths and his sword. Hrothmar had never learned to use a bow—he preferred steel. Besides his sword and a knife or two, he also carried his favourite forge hammer. It felt more familiar in his grasp than his sword and he reckoned up quite a few fallen orcs to its iron head.
Plans for the coming war continued through dinner, but only among the older elves. The younger members of the various parties limited their remarks for the most part to placing bets on who would kill the most orcs. When they grew too much of a distraction Lord Elrond sent them away from the table and they wandered off to sing or tell stories or whatever it was elves who didn't smoke did after dinner.
Hrothmar and Halrodil went down to lade their horses. Having a far distance to travel and the mountains to get over, they had decided to leave as soon as possible. Elrohir approached while their backs were turned and placed his hand on Hrothmar's shoulder, making him jump.
"Are you departing so soon?" he asked.
"We would not overtax the hospitality of Rivendell."
"I am glad that you were chosen to come, Hrothmar, son of Hemir," said Elrohir gravely. "You have stronger reasons than many to hate the orcs. We needed your support in the council; indeed, if it had not been for the lady Galadriel's vote, our plan may have been shelved for another age." He sighed. "I have worked so long to see this day come."
Hrothmar smiled politely. He had only been sent to the council because some of his practical pranks had made him more of a nuisance than usual at home and Thranduil the elvenking had thought Elrond's council a good excuse to get rid of him for several weeks.
"Oh, by the way," said Elrohir, pulling himself from unpleasant reflections, possibly of his mother's torment, "Findor of Lothlorien will accompany you and your brother back to Mirkwood."
Like an invoked spectre, Findor materialised at Elrohir's left elbow and gazed with his habitual glassy coldness at Hrothmar and Halrodil.
"Why?" asked Hrothmar, cocking an eyebrow.
"It's part of the plan. We're placing liaison officers with each army—just to keep everyone connected. You don't mind, do you?"
Hrothmar shook his head unconcernedly. "I hope he doesn't mind travelling at night."
"Why would we travel at night?" asked Findor.
"We navigate by the stars," said Halrodil.
"We'll be starting as soon as you're ready," said Hrothmar.
"As you wish, but we will take a slight detour south just east of the mountains to connect with a group Lord Celeborn is sending to join us."
Findor vanished in quest of his horse while Elrohir made the customary farewells and returned to the rest of the company.
"Well, that's annoying," said Hrothmar, when Elrohil was out of earshot.
"That will slow us down considerably," said Halrodil.
"Not to mention they'll be snooting at us the whole way back to Mirkwood. I felt like telling him to go to Mordor."
Most elves did not swear by dark things, but the elven smiths tended to pick up the habit.
They mounted and waited until Findor appeared on his white horse. He said nothing to them and the three left the Last Homely House and started out down the mountain track in silence.
It was clear from the start that Findor intended to lead the party. He made no objection to night travelling on the first stage of the journey because their road lay through the Misty Mountains and it was best to get through those as quickly as possible. But he paid no attention to the coordinates passed up to him from Hrothmar and Halrodil and rode along shedding a ghostly radiance around his horse's feet (being a high elf he was able to do this) without once turning his eyes from gazing straight ahead.
They travelled both night and day, but rested during daylight hours. Though there were not many orcs left, the mountains were where they were most likely to meet any and there was more chance of an attack during the night.
When the sun rose before them on the sixth morning they were on the last slopes of the mountains. They stopped in the forest at the foot to rest their horses and eat some lembas bread, and from this point on began a running argument between Findor and the two Wood-elves on travelling hours. Hrothmar and Halrodil preferred the darkness and the stars, while Findor said it was silly to waste the daylight. It was two against one, but Halrodil's was not a forceful personality and Findor's personality was forceful enough for two. Besides, he always ended by saying that Hrothmar was afraid of orcs and that concluded the argument as far as Hrothmar was concerned, for he was too proud to debate the subject. Thus affairs continued as they journeyed south to meet up with the Lothlorien elves.
These they met at the appointed rendezvous near the River Gladden on the eighth day—a party of seven, as lean of limb, as fair of hair, and as high of aristocratic brow as Findor himself. One of the elves, who carried a harp on his back next to his bow, introduced himself as Elvisir, son of Halloin, gave Hrothmar a dig in the ribs, and hoped they would be friends.
The whole party turned eastwards then to cross the River Anduin and enter Mirkwood. They reached the river as the sun sank behind the mountains in the west and made their encampment in a small copse on the bank. Most of the elves ate a hasty supper and then rolled themselves in their cloaks and went to sleep, but Hrothmar remained hunched by the dying fire with his sword across his knees.
"I'll take the first watch," said Findor, striding past him in the dark. "Make a noise if your blade starts glowing."
Hrothmar remained as immovable as the surrounding stones. For some time silence fell around the encampment. Then there was a scarcely perceptible stir at Hrothmar's elbow and Elvisir crouched by the fire beside him.
"Cold tonight, isn't it?" he said. When he got no reply, he went on in a conversational tone. "Findor says you're afraid of orcs."
"I have orcphobia," said Hrothmar. "It's a medical condition."
"Oh," said Elvisir. "Is it serious?"
"Many people simply live with it," said Hrothmar with a shrug. "It keeps me from sleeping at night. I have nightmares."
"Sounds nasty. Is there some sort of medication for it?"
"Nothing that works. I've tried them all."
Elvisir groped in his pocket and took out a carved stone of some sort strung on a chain.
"Do you have one of these?"
"What is it?" asked Hrothmar.
"It's an amulet—a charm, sort of. It's to ward off evil spirits. Maybe it will help keep off the nightmares."
He handed it to Hrothmar, who took it clumsily.
"You're just giving it to me? I mean, it's not valuable, is it?"
"Bosh. I've got lots. I collect them. You know, there's a movie called Orcphobia. Have you seen it?"
"No, is it good?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen it either—my friend told me about it. It's rated R for black speech."
"Sounds cool," said Hrothmar.
They both fell silent until Elvisir, taking out his harp, began to croon quietly a song about Luthien Tinuviel—some elven girl, apparently. Elvisir had a good voice—even for an elf—but Hrothmar found the song somewhat sappy. He'd had a girlfriend once, but she had dumped him for a Rohirrim and he had not bothered much with elven maidens since.
"Do you know any songs about stars?" he asked.
Elvisir stopped and began again.
"The stars in your eyes are twinkling…"
Hrothmar hunched his shoulders in resignation. Elvisir eventually sang himself to sleep, but the two immobile watchers—one by the fire and the other in the shadows of the trees—remained still and pensive until the sky turned pale in the east.