Well, in this chapter we definitely see battles. We'll also get a view into Estela's unexplained past- her mother, whose story had never been told, until now- at least partially.

Chapter Forty-Five

Estela had always enjoyed riding. But now she was utterly silent. Beside her Ereinion rode, and she knew their minds dwelt on the same thing- their daughter and the goodbyes they made. And whether or not they would see her again.

Ereinion knew he could no more ask Estela to stay behind, any more than he could himself. But he feared losing all of them. He had already lost his son- thanks to the evil of Sauron. And now all he had to fear was losing his wife and daughter.

Glorfindel's mind was far away. Once released by Mandos, he had travelled all over Valinor, simultaneously enjoying and preparing himself for his return to a Middle-Earth very different from the one he had left.

There were some things he would like to ask the queen. But he knew better than to attempt straight away.

The passageway through the Misty Mountains was not the easiest, but Estela had had worse. And elves bore with it better than the men, whom they worried would either slip and fall, or freeze in the cold altitude. Or be soaked. The horses too, posed concern for them. So the elves dismounted and helped their allies, and their animals as best they could.

It seemed like an eternity to the humans until they managed to get them safely down. Relieved, they finally continued, until they caught side of the Anduin River.

"We make camp," Ereinion instructed softly. They nodded and went about setting camp, pitching tents, feeding, grooming and watering the animals, and building fires. Estela's emerald eyes scanned the surrounding area.

She fingered the crest-shaped pendant with its polished malachite stone in the centre, from which grew interlocking squares and knots coming from the top, bottom and sides of the stone. She smiled. She never took off this pendant. This wedding present that Ereinion gave to her, even made it on the field of battle. No gift had been more precious to her, save for the offspring he had begotten with her.

Estela sighed as she felt Ereinion come near. "Yes?" She asked.

"Oropher and his warriors are not here," he said quietly. "And neither are the Dwarves.

Estela looked around. "We must be on our guard," she said. "They- might have been ambushed. And we might as well. Or they might be late. I would rather take no chances." He nodded.

"Very well." Although he looked longingly at her, and neither wanted him to leave, both knew he had to.

Estela sighed as she watched her husband depart painfully, even though she knew he would not go far, and unhappily went about assisting others some more.

"My lady," a courier came to her. She frowned. "The High King wishes your presence in the briefing tent."

She nodded and thanked him. It didn't take long for her to find it, even in a new campsite.

Elrond was already there. Ereinion looked up and smiled when she arrived. "You are sure that Oropher, Amdír and Durin got the messages that you sent?" She asked them.

"We are certain of it," Ereinion responded. Elrond nodded.

Estela sighed. She looked at everyone else present. "Any other problems?"

"The Dwarves of the Firebeard and Broadbeam clans are engaged in conflicts of their own," one of the officers said. "It will be a while before they can take the long march to Mordor."

Estela nodded. "Sauron is indeed cunning. I suppose he had already learnt of our movements. His spies are everywhere, and he does not always need them to hear and see of what goes on. What about his armies? Where do they march?"

"The orcs are marching in our direction. Some are already attacking the Dwarves of the various clans, but our allies are not in such dire circumstances. We can only pray for their victory and survival. As for our Northmen allies, including the Éothéod, we have had word from them. They are marching here as we speak. The Haradrim and Easterlings under Sauron's banner are not as many as we had thought. Of course this is no reason not to be wary, but it is still a relief. They are on their way to the Black Gates of Mordor, even now. King Oropher and King Amdír are on their way here, they have just sent word."

Estela could have slumped in relief. "Good. But that does not answer-"

Before she could even finish the sentence, an ear-splitting scream was heard outside.

"Attack, we're under attack!" Cursing they equipped themselves. It was foolish to assume they were weak simply because they had long hours of marching and crossing mountains. These were elves, and they were not as wearied as men.

Estela emerged from the tent first, she saw the attackers. "Dunlendings!" She shouted. Not Easterlings, or Haradrim, or even Dark Númenóreans, so they were not dangerously misinformed at least.

"Shield wall!" Ereinion roared, at his wife's suggestion.

The warriors all banded together- the elves slightly easier than the weary humans, who despite their Númenórean blood, had yet to gain the required rest they needed to recover the fullness of their strengths.

Their shields made a single, straight wall in front of them, and Ereinion shouted, "Hold your ground!"

He had a much clearer battle-field voice than she did, Estela thought sullenly. She needed to stay close to her husband if she wanted her voice to be heard- projected through him.

"Stand!" Estela managed to shout loud enough. The Dunlendings charged them. From what Estela saw of them they were covered in soot, dirt and other things, their teeth were rotten and their hair were not only matted and unkempt, but stuck out, so that they resembled broom-brushes, mops or dusters, made of straw, except that they were so filthy it required more than one quick glance to discover what colour their hair actually was. These hill-folk were armed with axes and things like pitchforks and lit torches.

"Hold!" She shouted as they attacked. Axes and other things were thrust at them, most hit the shields with a loud clunk. "Now!" They thrust their swords through the small, hard-to-reach gaps through the shield wall and the Dunlendings emitted strange shrieks and howls as they were stabbed. The first wave fell to the ground, but most of them still kept coming.

"Pull backwards!" And so they did. The Dunlendings charged, breaking rank- as if they had any in the first place, but now they were scattered- which was what Estela was hoping for. The Noldor and the Númenóreans pulled back, or rather, more like dragged themselves through the mud of the banks of the Anduin, which the elves could move through more easily than the humans, but still needed to help their allies. The Dunlendings were about to attack when Estela ordered, "Halt!" And shouted, "Surround them all- cut them down!"

The battle was bloody, but not on so large a scale as other battles she had been in (of course, there were few attackers).

Fighting through the mud, thick, red blood- not the inky, thin blood of the orcs- gushed out and fell upon the ground in pools. The Dunlendings were vastly disadvantaged in every way. They didn't stand a chance. Soon most of them lay, either face down with only their protruding hair for all to see, or face up, upon the mud.

Ereinion strode through the campsite and surveyed the damage. Nothing extensive- if anything at all, really. But they could all use a good rest.

Estela's swords hung limply from her sides. She was exhausted. Not so much in her body, but more in her mind and soul.

She crouched upon the ground. One Dunlending's eyes were staring blankly at the darkening sky. She gently closed the lids.

She hated this. They were not orcs. They were deceived. She already felt like filth.

Estela sighed and rose. They should get a proper send-off, according to their own customs. Cremation with respect. She would not tolerate any disrespect towards such dead- not even if they were foes.

Ereinion shook his head. "They knew," he said softly. "They knew they didn't stand a chance. He knew. They must have known."

And yet still they attacked. Strong was their hatred, and the influence of Sauron.

Estela knew it would be a very hard war to fight, even if victory, somehow came easily to them.

As soon as dawn broke they were out. They would have gone sooner, but their allies needed more rest than they did.

Off they went. And soon they came across Oropher.

The Greenwood and Lothlórien elves did not look in the least bit pleased, but may have been relieved to see them. As it turned out, they too had been attacked. It had not put them in a good mood, but they had greeted and accepted help gratefully and graciously.

There were bodies that needed burning according to Dunlending customs. Their dead needed to be burnt as well- this was war, there was no safe resting place that may go unviolated. Wounds needed to be treated, people fed and morale boosted. Then they had to leave.

The Dwarves of Khazad-dûm arrived soon enough. Durin lifted his war-hammer high in salute. The Noldor elves responded in kind.

After this, scouts and spies were sent in secret, ahead of them in all directions.

Technically they should have done so earlier, but with crossing the mountains, and barely having enough time to set up camp… well, now tempers were becoming frayed, it was a miracle everyone was able not to lash out at anyone around them.

Estela sat down, the next midday, eating a bowl of stew. Best enjoy it while she can, she thought. She'll have to survive by lembas soon enough, they all would.

She missed her daughter so much it threatened to tear her apart if she dwelt on it. She longed to have her daughter, her son and her husband with her. Right now, Ereinion was preparing for the next meeting.

Too bad.

Glorfindel walked by with a bowl of stew. "Lord Glorfindel," she called out. He stopped and bowed his head. "My lady," she moved to make room for him.

He sat down. The stew was untouched in her hands. She didn't have much of an appetite it seemed.

"How are things with you?" She asked. "Not so bad," he replied. "What of you, my lady?"

"I have been worse," she said. She exhaled. "Tell me about Itarillë," she asked quietly. "Was she happy- with him?"

"Yes, my lady, I believe she was," Glorfindel said softly. "She missed her mother and longed for her and you as well, terribly. She was rarely homesick for Valinor, or if she was, barely showed it."

Estela looked down at the ground. "And Tuor? What was he like?"

"A noble, honest man," Glorfindel responded. "He was just, he was honest and likeable- he didn't need to dress richly for anyone to admire him, to put on airs and be charming. He was very intelligent, wise and kind. All admired him for that, even if they didn't want to."

Estela was quiet for a while. "And Maeglin?" She asked. "Him, I never met, though upon Valinor I saw a great deal of Írissë- Aredhel," she explained. "Was he always as dark as they said he was?"

Glorfindel was quiet. "I am not sure. I rarely saw him. He was great, admired and renowned. But I can never be too sure of him."

Estela breathed out a sigh. "I am sorry Glorfindel, I do not want to remind you of such things."

"No harm done, my lady," Glorfindel said. He was quiet. "I wanted to ask some things as well."

"Oh?" Estela asked, her eyebrows raising. "Such as?"

Glorfindel hesitated. "It's alright, you may speak freely with me," she said gently.

"Your mother," Glorfindel said after a while. Estela started. "When I was on Valinor, I learned that she was a Telerin princess."

Estela went silent for a long time. She was vaguely aware of others listening intently to their conversation. But she did owe him this.

"Yes, she was," Estela said. "Her father was Arcalimar, first son of Olwë, King of the Lindar- or Telerin elves."

Everyone stared wide-eyed. This they had not expected.

Glorfindel hesitated. "I'm sorry my lady, I did not mean to-"

"No, it's quiet alright," Estela sighed. "Her story has never been heard for all the ages we have lived. In fact many would believe she never even existed- if not for my existence."

Why was she doing this? Perhaps she did not want her mother's story to fade to nothing? Or the good deeds of her parents to be left forgotten and ignored by elves and Mandos alike? Either way she could not keep as silent about this as she had been for centuries.

"What was she like?" Glorfindel asked softly. "I heard she was the most beautiful maiden upon Valinor."

Estela laughed softly. "You have not heard wrong. Even I must admit it, even without the bias of a daughter. She was called the Star of the Sea. And that was what her name meant, anyway."

The Wood-Elves were listening to this intently anyway.

"She was a very joyful person my mother. Highly intelligent, and every time anyone wept or was upset, they ended up laughing. She could bring life and laughter even in the darkest of moments. Her father loved her fiercely. Everyone did- they were so protective of her. And she was born much later than my father, in Alqualondë. She had one elder brother who was born on the Great Journey- but he disappeared during that time. Only Morgoth knew what happened to my uncle," she said darkly. "I do not believe her brother was re-embodied after a spell in Mandos. So I think we can guess what happened to him." They all shuddered. "My mother was born by far, later. She was the only surviving- and the last- child of my maternal grandparents. She loved to travel among all the cities and towns of all the Eldar. She learned their stories- their languages fluently, and everything about their cultures. She was at heart, a modest girl of the shores and seas, but she was highly aware and comfortable with others different to her and liked meeting new people." Estela smiled.

"She first met my father while on a visit to Tirion. She stayed at the home of her aunt Eärwen- the Lady Galadriel's mother and wife of Arafinwë, or Finarfin as the Sindar called him. She was very close to her cousin. So close they might have been sisters. They were the best of friends. I do not know how exactly they met, but they did fall in love. Everyone was happy then. No one thought anything bad would ever happen- not even my grandfather who was terrified of losing his daughter to marriage," she chuckled. "He certainly made it difficult for him, although his own father and mother, his wife and pretty much everyone else, including his sister and her husband, seemed delighted. My mother herself was uneasy with the thought of marriage. I think she was afraid of binding herself to anyone for all eternity when she can never be sure of her own feelings- what if she loved another, but did not know it- what if there was someone else she loved. But even she could not deny. She was one half of him- that's how much they loved each other." Estela was silent.

"It took a long while. There were a number of obstacles. One of which was my maternal grandfather. The other were the ones who loved my mother- unrequited of course. But of those they were many."

Glorfindel smiled. "I heard they fought over the right to sit next to her."

Estela laughed. "They should know better. My grandfather wouldn't let anyone that close to her."

"And I also heard that poets and musicians would have entire competitions outdoing each other, trying to compose about, and impress her."

Estela smirked. "Oh, my mother. You can't imagine what it was like. In fact, you'll never even see the like."

"They said you look like her." Estela scoffed. "I take after both parents. Place my face next to either, and I would resemble them both, even though they look nothing alike. But I wasn't as appealing as she was." Glorfindel raised his eyebrows. "What? It's true. My mother attracted people like bees to honey, even if she did not want it. I only attract them, when rousing them for war." Glorfindel laughed.

"How did she die?" He asked quietly.

Estela sobered. "She faded. There was an attack… And she believed me and my father to be dead. And others. She took no part in the War of Wrath- as you've discovered, my father took pains to keep our existence a secret, for fear of Morgoth. After that he never smiled, and nearly killed himself if not for me. He had always hated himself. But now…" She was silent. She spoke more than she should have and they all knew it.

"My mother had the most unusual eyes, and hair." She said after a while, as if in a deep thought. "Her hair cascaded like a waterfall, thick and curling, or gently waving, and often went past her knees. It was the exact colour of the purest, finest, polished silver, and even had a sheen- it glowed like mithril. Or like the sun upon the surface of a frozen lake. It was almost blinding, but not garishly so. Her eyes were utterly unusual. They were violet." Glorfindel was startled when she said this. No one knew where it came from, neither of her parents had it, and I don't have it. But they were even richer in colour and more luminous than amethysts. They were always sparkling and dancing."

Estela went far away. Her mother had faded in grief. Her eyes would not have sparkled or danced with life the way she had remembered it, but would have been hollow, empty and void of all life. Emptier than anything she would have ever seen. She shuddered at the thought.

Her mother who did not deserve to die like this. Hopefully she would not be forgotten.

Estela's daughter had her eyes.

Please Valar, All-Father, do not let her share my mother's fate, Estela never wished for anything more if she can't have her family all at once, than at least that- and never outliving her husband or her daughter. It might sound too much but she had been through too much.

Some people say the stars have eyes. Well, there were Maiar with ears and eyes, and the Valar certainly were the same. High above the mists of the world, they watched and listened.

"Can she do it?" Manwë wondered. "Is she capable?"

"She is strong," Tulkas agreed. "Her spirit is true."

"She will not fail," Vairë intoned.

"She would carry the Ring and throw it into the flames of Mount Doom if that was the task."

"Sadly there is only one left," Varda said. "Only one to change their fates. Only one to renew and prove wrong, and prove that she is strong enough to do good- even at her own cost."

"Oh? And Celebrimbor has not proven thus? And what of her children?" Oromë asked.

"Celebrimbor has failed." Varda sighed. "Now it is only up to her. She is the last one left who remembered the days of light- and darkness gone by. She must be the one to do it."

"But what of her children? What part do they have in the renewing of this world?" Yavanna posed the question.

Both Manwë and Varda stared out in thought.

"Their trials will come," Varda said finally. "Not like the parents. But Vanimelda will never be alone. And he will never be forsaken."

Eryn Galen stood there. And south-east, stood the Gardens of the Entwives.

Only there were no Entwives. In fact, there was not even life.

The area was barren and desolate. No trace of green grew, no flower, no fruit- nothing- nothing like what the Ents and the Entwives had been doing since their creation. No tree was in sight. No golden sheaf of wheat. No blade of grass. And the wood that was left were stumps, hacked crudely by the looks of it, and undeniably dead. No single living thing was in sight.

The elves gasped as they saw the place- the whole landscape. How empty and void of life, how barren it was. This could not- can never be- the Gardens of the Entwives!

The maps were pulled out and rechecked. And all the while Estela had the most awful, most terrible feeling that they were on the right course. Never had she been less happy to be proven right.

The Entwives were gone. The gardens were gone. The life was gone.

And they knew who was responsible.

Sauron would never want them to be aided with supplies by the Entwives. No matter if he already had more than enough fuel to keep the fires of Mordor going. No ally, no friend, would remain for the Last Alliance.

The sky clouded grey and wept as thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, and somewhere, Estela sensed the Valar, particularly Yavanna Kementári, wept.

But something else was wrong.

Estela froze. She looked down. Black-coloured liquid, like ink but much thinner, and much more plentiful than even a whole stock could produce, littered the ground.

And it was fresh.

There were tracks. Fresh tracks, too light to be seen on the dark ground, being washed by the rain. But the rain could not conceal them from elven eyes- or in particular, Estela's eyes.

These were newly-made. And even though the rain was erasing them, amidst the deep smell of the earth, Estela could smell something more than smoke and iron and burnt wood. A foul, but very faint underlying of something she knew very well.

Something that had left a strap of torn leather on its path to the forest.

Some scent that despite being faint, and covered up by the rain and the mud, was still strong enough to be present.

"Orcs!" She shouted. "Orcs!"

By a miracle it seemed, they heard her.

And at that moment, the orcs charged.

They ran out from behind the trees that remained- the dead ones. Snarling, and eyes glinting eagerly with an evil, blood-thirsty malice, the orcs went for the attack.

"Archers!" Ereinion shouted. Drilled into perfection, requiring no further instruction, the archers came to the front, besides others, and shot.

The first wave of orcs fell.

"Spears!" Estela shouted. They threw them. "Shield wall!" They formed a shield wall.

"Flaming arrows!" She shouted.

They shot the orcs. Of course, fire would do very little with the rain, but it was as if the Valar would not dampen their chances of victory despite the weather.

"Advance!" The order was given out either by Elrond or Ereinion, but she could not tell, as she was too busy both fighting and improvising.

They marched forwards. There was a gap, Estela noted. "Second column, fall back!" She shouted.

They were now divided, into two groups. At the flank was Estela, at one wing.

There were a number of orcs, yes, but they were different. Some orcs were bigger- larger. No, some were slightly longer in build, and less hunched. They were also sallower. Others looked like they had been burnt until their skins were crispy and charred and they were twisted. The way they moved was also very different. And they attacked separately. They were different kinds of orcs. From different places.

And by the looks of it, they did not count themselves as the same as each other.

"Advance!" Ereinion shouted. And his wing advanced. "Stay!" Estela shouted.

They smashed into the orcs. Slicing them down, stabbing and bleeding them. After a while, Ereinion shouted. "Fall back!"

They went for a retreat. Pulling back. Almost impossible to do in a shield wall, but these were the finest soldiers in Middle-Earth.

The more twisted orcs, ran forwards in pursuit, waiting to slaughter the 'retreating' enemy. The other, taller orcs, stayed behind. These were well-trained. But not nearly enough. Good thing too.

Estela saw it- a gap. Foolish orcs. She shouted. "Charge!"

And they broke into a run. "Circle them!"

And so they did. They smashed through them, and surrounded them, slaughtering them. Black blood gushed and spurted in fountains or geysers. Estela and the ones that followed her, all surrounded them, cutting off any escape route once the panicked orcs realised what was happening. They were slaughtered to an orc. None survived. Dead carcasses of orcs piled on the mud. Black blood mixed with puddles of dirty water. They all lay in grotesque positions, all with shocked, horrified, or blank stares at the thundering skies.

Meanwhile Ereinion had shouted, "Advance!" The troops on his wing froze. The orcs who were pursuing squealed in shock and horror as they froze with spears and swords imbedded within their gut.

His wing advanced. "Surround them!" Ereinion shouted. "Slaughter them! Show no mercy! They will give you none! Let none escape!"

And they too were slaughtered.

Finally it was over.

The orcs had no funerals. No rituals for a farewell. In any case, no one was fussed about burning them in a pile.

Elendil was panting heavily. Isildur came to his father's aid, but he was brushed off.

"I will take a host," Estela announced. "We need to see if there are any more. And if there are any Entwives left. And if Sauron sends more forces to attack us." She took off.

They found nothing. No trail. Absolutely nothing. Any deserting orc was swiftly killed. None who set eyes upon the host of Gil-Galad, the Imladris elves, the Wood-Elves or the Men of Gondor and Arnor lived to tell the tale.

They were exhausted by the time they set camp. There had been no sign of the Entwives- a devastating thing for the elves. So the victory felt almost as if it was not worth it.

"We have received a message," Ereinion said as soon as she arrived back. "Anárion is set to meet us on our way in two days. He brings a great host, and they have won victories on the way." Estela nodded.

"Two days?" She asked for confirmation. She frowned. "We had best stay alert."

The rain had stopped, at least.

"I spotted some orcs," Estela said. "But we killed them all. Let Sauron think that he has victory for now! He does not know what awaits him."

Sauron had yet to feel their wrath. But soon, he would.

They refreshed sufficiently once they found a good place to settle in. The elves were all angered by the destruction of the Gardens, and presumably, the slaughter of the Entwives.

Estela closed her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to ride back to Lindon and see her daughter, to crush her into her embrace and never let go, but of course, that was impossible.

Exhausted, she wondered about the times she saw her mother soothing her father after a battle.

Then she searched for Ereinion.

Not one week into their journey. And already, two battles.

She found Ereinion in a similar state. He managed to smile when she came into the tent.

Estela had been bathed. "I missed you," she admitted. He gave a wide grin. "Well, I was hoping you would. Why not stay as long as we can?"

She chuckled softly. These were rare moments.

How was it, that when such peace and happiness were threatened, people begin to cherish them more?

Well, the first battle- the surprise attack by the Dunlendings- was loosely inspired by the Battle of Hastings. But the last battle was inspired by the Battle of Chaeronea. Yes, we saw a hint of a story about Estela's mother- I'm not sure I'm going to write something about her after this. Maybe, but who knows? Anyway, there is still the other issue to decide upon.