In An Age Before – Part 311

"I shall be ready, Helluin," Princess Heorte replied.

To this, the Noldo nodded and then said, "I must take counsel with Mul." 'Round the gathering, the Eorlingas looked askance at her claim but hindered not her going, and so with a bow to the princess, took her leave.

Outside the longhouse, Helluin once again breathed the fresh air and made her way o'er to the dejected figure of the mule.

"Mul," she called out, and saw his head rise to watch her approach. Making contact eye to eye, she said, We take our leave in the morn. With us shall go Princess Heorte and her Shieldmaiden Agrona Hallamsdóttir. Thou shalt return to the widow Godlic.

Oh, thank thee, thank thee, thank thee! he exclaimed silently, I am delivered from certain death and post-mortem possession! Then, after a moment for thought, his pessimistic nature reasserted itself and he added, If I should somehow survive this night. Ghosts are at their most malevolent in the dark, are they not?

I have no idea, Helluin said, for they are ghosts all day, every day, after all. She saw the poor creature shiver and void his water. Intending to offer him some hope, she said, If thou art truly in doubt, then I bid thee cleave to the chickens. They claim the ghosts shun them and perhaps thou shalt be safe in their company, or at least she hoped he would feel so. At the mention of the poultry, Mul immediately perked up and produced a pitifully hopeful expression.

There are hens in Dunharrow? Truly? Why was I not informed at once? They could be my salvation!

At the mule's outburst, Helluin actually did roll her eyes. Then she stretched out a hand and pointed to the chicken coops, saying, Thither in plain sight lies thy salvation. With the arrival of Lord Fréaláf, we must have been preoccupied. We shall depart in the morn. I pray thee remain alive and unpossessed 'til then.

I shall be ready, he said, echoing the princess word for word. Thank thee, thank thee, thank thee. I shall join the hens straightaway. And to himself, Oh God, perhaps I shall see the sunrise after all, though slim as a snake the odds may be.

And with that, Mul shambled off 'cross the snow-covered meadow and made his way to the chicken coops. Helluin shook her head, muttered something disparaging about the superstitious, and then returned to the longhouse. Once inside, she sought the princess.

Heorte was with Agrona, enmeshed in a frenzy of packing. The two women turned to regard the Noldo as she approached. Ere they could voice any questions, she offered a bow and made a request.

"My lady, amongst the treasure hoard of Meduseld, is there still the skin of a great white wolf of the north?"

"That old thing?" Agrona asked in surprise, obviously unimpressed.

"Aye, Helluin, 'tis rolled up in a crate with some carvings," Heorte said, waving a hand vaguely o'er her shoulder towards the rear of the longhouse. "Whyfor hast thou an interest in the Werewolf pelt of Eorl?"

"I would present it to a second king of Eorl's line, my lady. I believe it shall bring thy father inspiration and recall to him the heroism of his longfathers of old. At worst, perhaps in wearing it as a cloak, he shall be hidden from unfriendly eyes and kept warm."

Though she might have thought the Noldo's notion silly, the princess nodded in a distracted manner, still preoccupied with her own preparations, and said, "I shall send someone to fetch it straightaway."

After Agrona had prevailed upon the Heorte to limit herself to her weapons and a single travel bag, and Mul had vehemently refused to carry the Werewolf pelt, the trio set out west on the morn of 13 Nínui.

At dawn, Helluin had found the mule beside the chicken coops with a dozen hens standing on his back, worrying their beaks through his mane and tail, seeking bugs. She had set a horse blanket o'er Mul's back and at his refusal of the pelt, told him, If thou shalt not carry cargo, then thou shalt carry rations. Forget not that thou art loyal to the king and his line, and we accompany the princess. She had cast him a warning glance, as if she might call forth the ghosts, and he acquiesced and was laden with a pack of victuals.

They descended the Climbing Stair without incident, and though even Helluin had imagined that it might challenge the mule, Mul had no difficulty with the snowy path, proving himself more confident and surefooted than a horse. Once at the bottom, they crossed the Snowbourn and took the track beside the tributary where the Noldo had first espied Lord Fréaláf.

Ere noon, they had marched the four leagues through the canyon and found the track running along the foothills. The White Mountains glowered down upon them from the south with Starkhorn towering behind in the east. As none of them had taken that way aforetime, Mul led the small party hence. If Heorte and Agrona found 'aught strange in trailing behind the creature, he led them true and they came to trust him as Helluin did.

Just past noon, they stayed their march for a mid-day meal of flatbread with cold, lefto'er stew atop a heap of lakhsha. After removing his burden, Helluin and the mule seemed to take counsel together in silence, though the two women barely marked this as they prepared their food.

I thank thee for leading our march, Mul, Helluin said. Aforetime I sought for such a trail as this and found it not.

'Twas by design, me thinks, for the mountain track was made by the hill folk to pass 'twixt the mountain dells wherein they dwell. They value their peace and seek no attention, and so the track has no widely known exits into the lowlands. I reckon it hath saved them from the war.

To this, Helluin nodded in acceptance. The concept of a private road was not foreign.

Upon our return journey, dost thy nose follow thy tail? She asked, having had many a horse describe returning so. But Mul regarded her with as sardonic an expression as his features could contrive.

That sounds like horse talk, he said. I am not a horse, nor a cat that chases its tail. I review my memories of the prior journey and reverse the sequence of landmarks to find my way home. Now pray knock the snow from this shrub that I too may enjoy some refreshment.

Helluin knocked the snow from the indicated bush and watched as Mul stripped the twigs from the ends of branches where new leaves would grow. After a few moments watching him chew, she returned to Heorte and Agrona and joined them in their repast.

Although Fréaláf had ridden to Harrowdale in four days, afoot, Helluin, Princess Heorte, and Shieldmaiden Agrona spent nine days to come the same hundred and forty miles. Mul continued to find the easiest path through the snowdrifts, but he kept to what was for him a painfully slow walking pace. I reckon if they had more legs, they would be faster, he thought.

The two women had bundled themselves in many layers of woolen garments and during the day, the exertion of walking kept them warm. By night, the Noldo watched as Agrona and Heorte stove off the cold by sleeping wrapped 'round each other 'neath the Werewolf pelt. Yet it seemed to her that they shivered if they were still.

Helluin had been little surprised that Agrona could withstand the conditions, hardy warrior that she was, but she was surprised that Heorte did as well. The princess neither complained, nor slowed their party the entire way, and by the time they stood before the widow Godlic's peculiar house in the afternoon on the 21st, the Noldo was impressed with her mettle.

This home reminds me vaguely of Nimrodel's first flet, she thought. 'Tis probably the resemblance of the tree trunks to chicken legs, huh. What a strange coincidence. It must result from a repeated trill in The Song.

"Dame Godlic, we come from Dunharrow to return thy mule," the princess cried out.

Soon, a shutter on the third floor creaked opened and an elderly woman's voice called down from the window, saying, "Just in time, ladies," and to her granddaughter somewhere within, "Lofain, pray admit our royal guest and her companions, the Shieldmaiden and the Ælf." Then the shutter was pulled closed with difficulty and muffled curses.

Well, Mul, thou art home at last. I thank thee for thy commendable forbearance and I wager the princess thanks thee no less, Helluin said.

My pleasure, the mule replied with questionable sincerity. I am glad to be home and gladder still to be gone from Dunharrow, though more snow looks to be forthcoming this night.

Perhaps I shall see thee again after the winter and the war, if I have time to seek for thy ghost.

If thou come again, then I shall lead thee whither I have met that shade aforetime. 'Til then, good health and good fortune to the princess and may Béma save the king.

He then ambled off to a small outbuilding just to be seen 'round the uphill corner of the house. A moment later, the door opened and a young woman stood upon the threshold beckoning them hence. She met Princess Heorte with a formal curtsey, offered Agrona a short bow, and stared at Helluin as if she had two heads. 'Twas obvious she had ne'er aforetime met an Elf. Helluin offered her a smile and a nod and walked into the peculiar home.

The claustrophobic ground floor held 'naught but a fathom's space inside the door before the base of a staircase. The rest was occupied by a country kitchen. Lofain ushered them to seats at a table set before a large hearth and offered hot tea. From upstairs, they heard the footsteps of one haltingly walking with the aid of a cane. The clomping was soon replaced by the creaking of the treads in the upper stairs.

"May I offer ye tea, ladies?" Lofain asked. "If I do not, my grandmother shall bid me offer anyway and I would save her the words."

"A cup would be most welcome, Lofain," Princess Heorte said. "I thank thee for thy hospitality."

She, Agrona, and Helluin accepted steaming cups of tea and the warmth was indeed welcome. Lofain took a cup herself and poured another for her grandmother who was just tromping down the lower stairs as she finished. Widow Godlic took up a cane from the banister and shuffled into the kitchen. She seated herself at the table and lifted the cup set at her place.

Now once she was seated, she bowed her head to Princess Heorte and asked, "I hope thou art well, my lady, and the travel has not discomforted thee o'er much."

"I am well, thank thee, Dame Godlic. I thank thee too for thy hospitality and for loaning Mul to my cousin Lord Fréaláf. Without him, we might not have found the mountain track or come hither so safely."

Widow Godlic nodded, appreciating the princess' words. She sipped some of her tea and then said, "He is a good mule and knows many paths through the foothills. I trust he served Lord Fréaláf well?"

"Indeed so. My cousin appreciated his service. He came safely to Harrowdale in four days."

Again, the widow nodded and said, "Ahhh, then he arrived in time."

At this assertion, Heorte looked to her in question and she said, "As he arrived there and thou art here, he arrived in time to take thy place before the people, did he not?"

"Well, I suppose he did," Heorte admitted in surprise, "though without his tidings, I would not have known to come."

"And now thou and thy party have arrived just in time. Béma smiles," Godlic said, confusing the royal all the more.

"Arrived just in time for what, pray tell?" Agrona asked, not liking that they were expected, for their predictability might cause danger to the princess.

"Why for the storm that shall cover your entrance into Súthburg," Godlic said with certainty. "It shall begin after nightfall. I reckon that 'round midnight the snow shall be falling heavily enough that ye may pass through the enemy camp."

"It hath grown cloudy the past hour," Heorte said. She cast a glance out a window to check the light and saw the day was growing dim in the foothills.

"I am glad to learn we shall indeed pass into the fortress untroubled," Helluin said, speaking for the first time.

To this, the widow chuckled in an unsettling manner, but added 'naught on that point and the Noldo let it pass. Instead, she asked after one of Mul's claims that had piqued her curiosity.

"Widow Godlic, Mul claimed to have seen a ghost somewhere uphill in the dell. Know thou 'aught of this? Or hast thou seen a wandering shade thyself perhaps?"

"I have not, even when I was young and spry enough to walk the higher trails in search of herbs," she said and chuckled. "The folklore of the foothills recounts a wandering spirit, but if Mul claimed to have seen it, then he is the only one I know."

Though disappointed, Helluin acknowledged the widow's candor with a respectful dip of her head and sipped some of her tea. She had marked that the widow had not spared a moment doubting the mule's word.

"Are ye safe hither?" Heorte asked. "If not, ye may accompany us to Súthburg."

Lofain cast her grandmother a horrified look as though the notion terrified her and Godlic shook her head.

"I wager we are safer at home than in the fortress," the widow said. "The enemy has marked us not, but Súthburg is invested. Besides, Lord Fréaláf claimed those within starve. Here, we do not."

The princess nodded to her, accepting her wisdom. Godlic and Lofain had passed 'nigh a year at home and had suffered none of the enemy. Their house was warm and they were not hungry.

"Might we impose upon ye to allow us to remain ere we seek to enter the fortress?" she asked. Both Godlic and Lofain, who seemed greatly relieved that she was not commanding them to Súthburg, nodded 'aye'. "Ye have our thanks," the princess said.

Night fell, the hours passed, and in the widow's house, Heorte, Agrona, and Helluin sheltered as midnight drew 'nigh. They availed themselves of Godlic's hearth to heat their rations that night and were thankful for the hot meal. Both the widow and her granddaughter proved to be good company once they were no longer o'erawed by the princess' status, and they offered many tales and tidbits of local wisdom. Enjoying such good cheer, the time passed swiftly as the snowfall quickened outside.

At midnight, Helluin could have sworn she heard the distant winding of a horn, echoing faint as the whisper of a memory, or the lingering sound from some mortal's dream after waking. Of the women, only Godlic cocked her head to the west for a moment, the hint of a smile shaping her lips, and then she turned her attention back to her guests. The Noldo rose from her chair and bid Heorte and Agrona ready themselves. They donned their cloaks, girt their weapons about them, and hefted their travel bags.

"Ye have our thanks for your hospitality," the princess told Godlic and Lofain, "and should we see the end of this war, your kindness shall be remembered."

Lofain wished them well and safe upon their road, and offered prayers to Béma on behalf of the king.

But Godlic came to Helluin and softly spoke words for her ears alone.

"Though ye shall come to Súthburg, it shall not be without challenge. I bid thee mantle the princess and her beloved in that white pelt thou carry, and to wear thy full armor. I know no foeman can withstand thee, Úlairdacil, but perhaps some shall try."

Helluin was surprised that the widow had called her Wraith Victor, as did the Gondorim, rather than the Rohirric epithet Werewolf's Bane, but she took the crone's advice to heart and donned her mithril coif, eliciting a chuckle and a nod from Godlic. Then she drew up her hood and ushered Heorte and Agrona out the door and into the storm.

Now from Fréaláf's account, they knew that the witch's dell lay a dozen miles east of Súthburg, and amidst the swirling snow, they reckoned t'would take them six hours of steady walking to reach the coomb. If fortune favored them, they would come to the enemy's camp 'neath the cover of the storm whilst darkness yet held sway. Knowing now that both of her companions were fit to march, the Noldo set a steady pace as swift as the conditions allowed.

The early morning hours passed as the elleth and the two women marched west, and the miles slowly passed 'neath their feet one after another. As Fréaláf had found, the track was easily marked, and as had he aforetime, they strayed not despite the darkness. So 'twas that 'nigh the end of the fifth hour past midnight, they looked out from the trees at the bottom of the slope descending from the eastern ridge of Thrihyrne. In the lands within the arms of the coomb lay the enemy camp, though little enough of it was to be seen in the snow.

How sparse the columns of smoke from their fires, Helluin thought as she carefully swept the land with her sharp Elvish sight. Could they possibly have become so few? Surely, they must be no more than an advance force. Still, they are the only ones we needs pass to come to Súthburg.

"Come, we cannot tarry for the storm could fail at any moment and the first light of dawn is but an hour off," she told Heorte and Agrona. "I believe I can find a trail through the camp."

The princess and the Shieldmaiden had been staring into the snow, but in the darkness, their eyes were confounded and they had barely marked the mounds of the dugout shelters that lay closest ahead.

"We shall trust thee, Helluin, for I would likely trip o'er a foeman if he stood but a fathom before my face," Heorte said with a snort of frustration.

"I pray ye remain together 'neath the pelt," Helluin said, "and if 'aught untimely betides, remain hidden and allow me to handle it."

The two women nodded, but Agrona drew her sword and stepped before the princess, leading her by the hand as she followed close in the Noldo's wake.

Now at first the way was clear. Helluin led Agrona and Heorte 'twixt the snow-covered humps of shelters she was well 'nigh certain hosted only the dead. They passed 'tween drifts that offered partial cover and gave a wide berth to any place wherefrom rose a column of smoke. The Noldo steered a course both towards the fortress and towards the dirt road leading to the gate, for only on it could they easily pass the ditch and dike that loomed a half-mile ahead.

After safely crossing the first two furlongs, the inhabited shelters grew more frequent and closer together, for these were the dugouts in which Abrazân, Magân, and the Corsairs had clustered to wait out the winter. By then, they had been feasting exclusively on human flesh for a month. The deaths of so many Dunlendings, their growing fear of Helm, and the continuing hardship of the season had left them alive but seething with resentment for their allies and all things concerning Rohan. At this midnight's sounding of the accursed horn, they had withdrawn within their shelters whither they huddled 'round their fires with their weapons close at hand.

After spending the third part of an hour, Helluin and the two Rohirrim felt both the increasing danger of the more numerous occupied shelters, and the increasing confidence that none of their enemies lingered outside in the storm. The Noldo led them within three fathoms of buried shelters whence came the smoke of fires and occasional curses in a bastardized pidgin of Adûnaic, Haradic, and nautical speech. They continued on another furlong and were 'nigh the track leading to the fortress when a hue and cry arose directly ahead.

They froze in their tracks as shouts, curses, blood-curdling screams, and panicked footsteps filled the air. Expecting the entire camp would be raised, Helluin bid Agrona and Heorte lie flat in the snow in the lee of a snowdrift, hidden 'neath the Werewolf pelt. They were well 'nigh invisible save if someone actually trod upon them, and therefore as safe as might be. Then she drew Anguirél and the Sarchram and stood guard, awaiting any incursion of foemen.

'Tis just as Godlic foretold, she groaned to herself as she sought for enemies amidst the swirling snow, and I shall be damned if that widow is not a witch, thank the Valar.

'Twas but moments later that a terrified Corsair well 'nigh slammed into her as he fled blindly through the storm. Helluin stove in his skull by slamming the Black Sword's pommel into his temple, and then she silently eased his body to the ground, kicking some snow o'er it in a hasty and halfhearted attempt at hiding the fallen. Now with nerves on edge, she advanced in a defensive crouch trying to anticipate the next onslaught.

After the pause of a few heartbeats, a trio of panicking Corsairs exploded into her presence. They were in full flight, half-looking o'er their shoulders into the darkness, and they came upon her completely unawares.

"Agannâlu!¹" the closest one screamed, but whate'er more he would hath exclaimed after was cut off by a whisper in the air as Helluin whipped Anguirél in an arc that severed the base of his neck. His head fell behind him as his body continued on a few strides past her ere toppling forward into the snow where he gave up a final wheezing exhalation. ¹(agannâlu, death-shadow = agan(death) + nâlu(shadow) Adûnaic)

Too much noise! Helluin chaffed as she leapt forward to silence the other two as swiftly as possible. They shall raise the whole camp against us. What horrible timing. Ahhh well…

The second Corsair blindly ran onto her sword as he cried out, "Bâ anû!¹" ¹(bâ anû, not human = (not) + anû(man) Adûnaic)

His forward momentum drove his body up the blade 'til the crossguard stopped him and he looked in amazement at the black armored figure holding the sword. Then the blade slipped from his chest as Helluin withdrew Anguirél and spun to hew the neck of the third foeman.

Ahead, the disturbance continued and the Noldo charged onward to stifle the untimely noise for 'twas an intolerable threat to the princess and the Shieldmaiden. She had barely come a half-dozen yards ere she stopped dead in her tracks and watched as a burly figure dressed only in a tunic, trousers, and boots hoisted a Corsair off his feet with a left hand fisted in his cloak. As the Southron's feet dangled in the air, he whipped an uppercut to his jaw that stunned him. Then he dropped the body and slammed his fist straight down into his victim's face so that he toppled onto his back stone dead.

Before him, two other Corsairs with drawn swords had begun to edge away and Helluin could feel their fear as their breathing revealed their trembling. For a moment, the wind cleared the swirling snow and the Noldo caught a glimpse of Helm King's face twisted in a blind rage, his eyes bright with bloodlust, a cruel grin shaping his lips, and he muttered just loud enough for her Elvish ears to hear, "What dark shades are ye to live on 'naught but snow?"

He had taken a step towards his next victims when a short-lived whine announced the flight of the Sarchram and their heads fell before their boots ere they collapsed forward onto their chests. The Ring Blade whizzed up into the darkness, hung a moment in midair, and then reversed her arc to return to Helluin's hand. The Noldo snatched the weapon and clipped her onto her belt. Then she greeted the king with a bow of her head.

"My Lord Helm, I am surprised to meet thee hither," she said.

The Lord of the Eorlingas stood a moment in shock, staring at the newly fallen and at Helluin. Then he blinked and the expression of madness vanished as if at the snap of a twig.

"Helluin, is it truly thee? Whyfor hast thou come? There is 'naught but suffering and death here'bouts."

"So t'would seem my lord, but better they than thee. Still 'tis a war, is it not, and such is the way of battle."

Then they chuckled together, each as bloodthirsty as the other where their foes were concerned. But soon they sobered and Helluin added, "Shall not e'ery foeman come forth to attack?"

"Nay, they cower in their bowers feasting on snow and air, or so I ken it," he said, shaking, his head in disbelief. "How can Men war against such as these?"

"My lord, they die too easily to be more than Men,' she said. "I have seen seven Corsairs, but no Dunlendings this night. Perhaps I ken now how they survive. Shall we not retire to Súthburg and take counsel? Daybreak is 'nigh, there are fresh bodies to impale for the moral of thy folk, and with me have come two others well known to thee."

At that, Helm nodded 'aye' and said, "I have already impaled the other five I worsted this night, leaving only this last." Here, he gestured to the Corsair he had beaten to death. "What of thee and those thou slew? Shalt thou add them to the tally on the dike?"

"Nay, I shall not," Helluin said, thinking of the thousands of Yrch she had mutilated and impaled during the War of the Elves and Sauron in an Age before. "I shall simply set them back inside their shelter to be found beheaded for the torment of their kith."

Then the king laughed aloud ere stooping to hoist the fallen Corsair o'er his shoulders.

"I shall meet thee in the keep, Helluin. Thou knows the way. Pray bring thy companions after thou arrange the dead," he said, and with that, he strode off into the swirling snow.

Helluin watched him go, thinking, He is bat-shit crazy, just as Fréaláf told. I like it, but he needs to dress the part. Then she gathered the bodies and heads of the pair she had slain with the Sarchram and posed them at the entrance of their shelter.

The Noldo next backtracked to her first engagement and hauled the four bodies to the same shelter. The first and third to die still retained their heads and she left them attached though the first Corsair's temple was caved in where Anguirél's pommel had struck deep and collapsed his skull.

As she carried away the pair of heads from the second and fourth Corsairs she had slain, Helluin rousted Heorte and Agrona from 'neath the Werewolf pelt and bid them follow. She told them of meeting the king and their agreement to take counsel together in Súthburg. When she set the heads onto the shoulders of the bodies, Agrona regarded them with a critical eye.

"Helluin, hast thou not mismatched these heads with their bodies? They seem wrong."

The Noldo looked them o'er again, and replied, "Perhaps, yet I hear no complaints from them. Come, let us depart this gruesome tableau. Dawn comes and we have still to win through to the fortress."

To that, Heorte and Agrona nodded in agreement ere they followed Helluin, (who was following Helm's tracks), so that they came to the dike and passed down the road to the fortress. As the king had said, any other foes were too cowed by fear and the storm to show themselves, and so they passed unchallenged through the remainder of the camp.

After climbing the embankment 'neath the gate's causeway, they entered by the postern door and greeted the sentries. These were amazed to see the princess, but also saddened that she would join in their fate. Still, they welcomed what tidings of those sheltering in Dunharrow that she offered. More than that, Heorte chose not to share, deeming her words should come first to her father. This they understood and pressed her not.

Ere they walked to the keep, Helluin cast a glance from an arrow slot 'nigh the gates and marked the dike as the first sunlight brightened the coomb. 'Twas the morn of 22 Nínui and the impaled bodies now numbered ninety-three, accumulated at a rate of five or six each night. Helluin nodded in approval, for many a Rider slew fewer during a lifetime of battles.

They left the gate and walked up a broad cobbled lane 'twixt the inner and outer curtain walls, ascended a ramp, and then climbed a broad stair to a portico before the doors of the keep. A pair of shivering door wardens greeted them with salutes and opened the doors for them.

Though the wind and snow immediately died away, the great hall was little warmer than the outside air. The central floor hearth was cold and only a couple torches in wall sconces lit the space. They passed a few empty tables and broken benches and some piles of horse droppings ere entering the council chamber, where, thankfully, the air was only chill rather than frigid.

It seemed the council chamber was lit, but warmed only by what heat came through the open doors of the mess hall and kitchen. Within the mess hall, they caught glimpses of many cots and realized that the garrison was encamped there, implying that the barracks too were no longer heated. As a result, both the mess hall and council chamber were crowded with Rohirrim.

At a table 'nigh the entrance to the mess sat Helm King, his sister Lady Hild, and his brother-in-law Second Marshal Eadmundr. They were sipping a thin soup from small bowls, and though steam curled from them, 'twas not accompanied by the savory scent of food.

When Helluin approached the table with Princess Heorte and Shieldmaiden Agrona beside her, they raised their heads, for a growing silence had taken hold in the chamber as the Riders beheld their princess. Seeing them, Helm choked on his 'soup', Hild gasped, and Eadmundr actually spat out a mouthful on the floor.

"What enchantment is this?" Helm exclaimed in horror as he looked his daughter up and down. "Is it truly thee, dear Heorte? But then it must be, for Agrona is beside thee. Whyfor came thou hither? Is not Edoras safer?"

"May we sit, father? We bear many tidings and there is much our king should hear," Heorte said, and Helm immediately beckoned the newly arrived trio to seats beside him on the bench.

They sat and for a while, all were silent as Helm, Hild, and Eadmundr waited on Heorte to speak. The princess labored to compose her thoughts for she had much to tell and much of it was bad. Yet finally, she took a deep breath and began, for though her words would whelp great sorrow, her father needed to know what had befallen their people since he had ridden west from Edoras ten months past.

"Father, after our early victory o'er the Easterlings, it seems all else has gone ill, for the war and even the weather have turned against us," she said. Then the king and the Second Marshal, and all the others within hearing hearkened to her, for it seemed their people fared no better in the east than in the west, yet this was not entirely so.

When Heorte spoke of the defense and fall of Edoras, the Riders groaned in dismay and Helm cursed and smote the tabletop with his fist so that the soup bowls leapt into the air. But when she spoke of the fall of her brother Haleth, the king shed tears of sorrow for his heir. The Riders bowed their heads to honor the valiant prince who had wounded Wulf with his last spear thrust. 'Twas not lost on them that even in death; he had been the first to rejoin the refugees in Underharrow. Haleth had led his Riders 'til his last breath.

She told of the survivors' retreat to the refuge of Dunharrow and Men quailed at the mention of that haunted place, but her father nodded in approval, for she had stripped the city of all its food and treasure. She had saved all she could of its people and had shepherded them through the months of winter. And unlike those in Súthburg, they had food and firewood, and now their foes feared even to tread in Harrowdale.

"I am proud of thee, daughter, for thou hast care taken the folk of Edoras and saved the Riders who defended the city," Helm said. "I know Dunharrow filled thee with disquiet, and yet there was no other course. Thou hast upheld the honor of the House of Eorl, thou and thy brother. Alas that so harsh a fate should have befallen thee."

"Much aid have I had, father, from Captain Heaþolaf who commands the surviving Riders, Wærferð the mylnweard who ground the grist we harvested and by which we survive, and Bīetlmære the sawyer of Upbourn who built our longhouse and outbuildings."

"No leader rules alone, princess. Their allegiance was thy due, but thou hast won their faith by thy deeds. They shall have renown after the war and they shall know thou did right by commending them, praiseworthy Men all," Helm said, and 'round them, many heads nodded in agreement.

Last, Heorte told the tale of her cousin Fréaláf's arrival and her decision to leave him the rule of Dunharrow. Eadmundr and Hild breathed sighs of relief to know that their son was safe. Even Helm was gladdened to learn that his nephew lived and whither he had gone.

"I was wroth when first I learnt he was missing, for I feared he had taken up the hunt and died as did Háma," the king said. "Yet 'tis well that the Riders shall have a warrior to lead them when they seek to retake Edoras. I regret only that he may be the one to slay Wulf and not me."

There was little that anyone could add to that sentiment and for a few moments, they all fell silent, contemplating the tidings they had heard. Because of what Fréaláf had already shared in Dunharrow, there were no new events in Súthburg to speak of. People had continued to die of starvation and the firewood had run out so that now tables and benches were burnt for heat. Soon, the Riders' shields would join them in the hearths.

There was but one topic remaining and Heorte was loath to broach it now. The cause of her journey to the fortress and the madness of her father were yet to be debated, but that would come to pass 'twixt them in private.

When the silence had grown awkward, yet none had ventured to say 'aught to break it, Helluin spoke to the king.

"Helm King, in thy prosecution of the enemy thou hast enjoyed success and yet the quandary of how they survive still remains. In all the nights of thy campaign, thou hast found 'naught of sustenance amongst the Dunlendings or the Corsairs. Is that correct?"

"Aye, 'tis just so, Helluin, and I am baffled," he replied. "Though the Dunlendings have grown few within the coomb, the Corsairs seem to survive well enough on snow alone. I wager 'tis some Southron sorcery that grants them immunity to hunger, curse them all."

"Coming hither, I marked no horses, yet the Dunlendings had some cavalry aforetime," the Noldo said, "and I reckon they staved off their starvation for a time by eating their steeds. Yet the winter continues far in excess of its habit for these parts and now, they have no more."

"In the nights I have come 'cross the bones of horses," Helm said, "and I believe thy notion correct. Yet how long can they live on the memory of horsemeat?"

'Round them, the Eorlingas muttered dark words, for they had preserved their own horses and would not eat them sooner than family, so great was their esteem of their mounts.

"The horses are gone, the Dunlendings have grown few, whilst the Corsairs survive," Helluin restated, "and t'would seem the Men of Dunland have scarcely outlived their steeds. Yet none save ghosts thrive on the memory of food only. I believe both horses and Men have given their meat for the Southrons. The Corsairs of Umbar are become cannibals, my lord, a habit deemed acceptable after their long alliance with Mordor, Sauron, and his Orcs."

Then outcries of horror and condemnation rose throughout the council chamber and word spread amongst the Men so that even in the furthest corners of the mess hall well 'nigh all knew what was discussed. The foreigners were no better than Goblins!

The clamor was slow to die down, but eventually a modicum of order was restored. Into the reduced uproar, Helluin resumed her rede and Helm hearkened for his hatred of his foes was enflamed anew.

"What thou do each night is right, my lord," she said. "Reducing the enemy within the coomb could grant access to the flanking highlands, for what thy son Háma did was right too. Men cannot live on dreams of food, nor do truehearted Men dine on the bodies of the fallen whether kith, kin, or foe. 'Nigh a hundred thou hast slain, and the winter has likely taken a greater toll still. So too can no Man stave off the cold with the memory of a hearth fire.

If we can press them, slay or drive them beyond the arms of Thrihyrne, then access to wood and prey can be had by parties of hunters and woodcutters. I would aid thee in this course, for ere the thaw of spring, I reckon that the foes before the dike shall not be reinforced."

Now not only Helm, but Eadmundr and even Hild looked to the Noldo with hope. Where aforetime they had accepted confinement and starvation, now they saw a chance to fight for their survival. Súthburg was invested 'aye', but in fact, only the advance force within the coomb constrained them so long as the weather dissuaded the greater enemy hosts from attacking. Whilst winter yet held sway, they could war against a small fraction of their enemies and perhaps gain a chance to last 'til spring.

Slowly, Helm nodded his agreement whilst 'round them Riders smiled and stamped their feet in support. They were sick of their boredom and inaction and longed to engage their tormentors, especially now that they deemed them less than Men. And in their hearts, each of them favored dying a worthy death in battle rather than laying down to freeze or starve.

"My lord, we have brought somewhat from the treasure hoard of Meduseld that may aid thee in thy campaign," Helluin said, and she drew forth Hokurzêmar the Werewolf's pelt. "I deem that even a Man of thy stature shall find sufficient material herein to tailor a jerkin and trousers that shall hide thee amidst the snow and preserve thy body's warmth, whilst striking renewed terror into the hearts of thy foes."

The king looked o'er the Werewolf pelt as Helluin laid it out on the table. He had seen it oft enough aforetime, indeed since childhood, and yet he had not marked how thick and dense was its fur, nor how large the monster had been.

"Let it be done," Helm said, and with a smile added, "and fitting I deem it that such a fell foe as the White Wolf of old should offer us what aid he can in our time of peril. I shall be fain, behamed thus whilst siccing one foe upon another."

All seemed well then for the king and his warriors felt renewed hope, yet not all were happy with what had come to pass. The princess could barely contain her anger 'til they left the council chamber.

"We came hither in hope of lessening the madness that afflicts my father, yet thou hast egged him on to greater madness," Heorte hissed at the Noldo. "Thou would see him dead in some vain hope of breaking out of Súthburg in the dead of winter."

"I would not see him dead in vain, whether with hope or in despair," Helluin said, "and thy father is not mad. Indeed, I reckon him the only one hither who is not."

The princess made no attempt to hide the rolling of her eyes.

"He ventures out half-dressed, weaponless, and impales the foes he beats to death with his bare hands whilst all others remain in the safety of the fortress," she said. "Surely that is madness."

"He ventures out with a heart so heated that his body feels not the cold. He impales his vanquished to raise the moral of his people, and he alone accepts not their despair, languishing in acceptance of defeat as death draws 'nigh. Against seemingly insurmountable odds, he alone wrestles with fate. He alone preserves the will to survive."

But Heorte shook her head, refusing to accept the Noldo's arguments.

"He does what no other of sound mind would do," she said, "and though he may slay some enemies, he cannot break the grip of winter."

"Princess, thy father has already broken the grip of winter in the only way a Man can…he hath rejected its hold upon his heart," Helluin said, and when Heorte made to reply, she held up a hand for silence. "Long aforetime I knew a mighty warrior who fought bare-chested and weaponless against the greatest of his kind and drove him to flight. Later, he threw down that same foe and chained him in bondage so that for a while, the world was freed from evil."

"That may be, Helluin, but he is not my father and peace shall not come from the defeat of one, even Wulf."

"Peace shall come from the defeat of the enemy's will, whether they be one or one hundred thousand. In battle, inspiration is everything. Moral is everything. Thy father knows this. When he goes forth clad in Hokurzêmar's pelt, I shall go with him."

"Then I hope thou shalt safeguard him better than thou did my brother Haleth," she spat, and then she turned on her heel and stomped off with Agrona following in her footsteps.

To Be Continued