In An Age Before – Part 316

Helluin had parted from Captain Beleg and the Gondorim after they shared their noon meal. The captain intended to leave the following day and clear whatsoe'er Dunlending or Corsair opposition he found along the road on his way to Edoras. Desiring to travel faster, Helluin bid him a safe journey and took the track west through the foothills whence she had come.

Now on 2 Gwirith, the Noldo arrived at Edoras in the late morning. Lord Fréaláf was glad to see her safely returned. He was o'erjoyed to learn that Aldburg had been liberated and their allies from Gondor had come to their aid at last.

"Even now, Captain Beleg marches for Edoras. He left a strong company to hold the fortress and intended to clear opposition from the West Road. And thy father and uncle in Súthburg shall enjoy the reinforcement of another host coming from Dunland 'cross the Fords of Isen. The invaders shall be swept away at last," Helluin said.

"The tide of war has turned with the seasons, thank Béma," Fréaláf said, happier than he had been since taking back the capital. "If the snow continues to melt, I reckon that another three or four days shall see our allies' arrival. I shall be able to send Riders to aid with the carts and see our people safely returning home from Dunharrow."

"I make for Súthburg next, but I shall bear tidings to those encamped in the Firienfeld on my way west," she told him to save him the need of sending a messenger. "I take my leave shortly."

"Then I shall wish thee well and safe upon thy way, Helluin. Go with my thanks for thine aid," he said.

Helluin dipped her head to honor his words and said, "My thanks for safe-keeping Hildmearh in my absence. I deem the snow shallow enough now to ride the track through the foothills."

"Pray give my love and regards to kith and kin in Súthburg," he asked.

Helluin nodded 'aye' and said, "I shall be glad to do so, my lord."

This time, Helm, Eadmundr, and Hild would be o'erjoyed at her tidings, in stark contrast to the litany of disasters she and Heorte had shared when they had arrived from Dunharrow in Nínui. Perhaps even the princess would mellow from her previously confrontational comportment. Well, maybe.

Reunited with her warhorse, the noble steed asked whither they were bound.

We go to Súthburg, Helluin silently told Hildmearh eye to eye.

So then my nose shall follow my tail, she conjectured, but wait, which tail am I to follow? Do we go by the road as we did with the army the past spring, or through the north?

Neither. We go first to deliver tidings to Dunharrow and then west by a track running along the foothills.

Has Súthburg moved that we needs find a different way?

Nay, 'tis where it hath e'er been, Helluin answered, trying to remain serious. We seek to avoid the deeper snows upon the road and perhaps some stray Dunlendings or Corsairs.

Are they also headed to Súthburg that we needs arrive ere their coming?

I hope they are not. The Corsairs at least desired to return to the Fords of Isen and then march south down river to their ships, which, alas for them, have been taken to Pelargir by soldiers of Gondor.

Hildmearh chewed on that information a moment and then said, If their ships have strayed, then might these Corsairs not seek for them at Súthburg instead?

They know not that their ships have been taken and they may not learn of it 'til they reach their berth on the river Isen. By then, we shall have long since arrived in Súthburg. In any case, 'tis more likely they shall meet an army from Gondor first.

But Helluin, can these Corsairs not call their ships back if they have strayed?

Nay, they cannot. 'Tis more like they have been rustled from their pickets.

I see, the warhorse said, they have been herded beyond recall, and just as Helluin breathed a sigh of relief to be done with her questions, she asked, Helluin, what is a ship?

The Noldo groaned at that, but realized Hildmearh had ne'er been to a port, nor seen a ship.

A ship is as a house that floats upon the water, driven by the wind, and carrying many Men.

Uh, huh, she said doubtfully, and are we likely to see any such in Rohan?

We shall not, for Rohan has neither seas nor lakes, nor rivers large enough for ships to sail on.

Hildmearh nodded and began to turn away, but not ere Helluin caught her (silently) muttered, How convenient. I believe not a word of this.

Upon reaching Dunharrow, they found well 'nigh all the snow gone from the Climbing Stair though the path was muddy. Helluin went to the longhouse to take counsel with the civilian leaders whilst Hildmearh wandered o'er to greet the horses and other livestock.

"Helluin, what brings thee hither?" Wærferð the mylnweard asked when she entered.

"I am come from Edoras with tidings," she said as Bīetlmære the sawyer and the sires of several influential lines of the city joined them at the council table.

"Is all well with Lord Fréaláf?" asked a worried Icel son of Eomær¹, head of a noble family of Edoras. ¹(Icel son of Eomær, 5th generation ancestor of King Penda of Mercia (who died in 655 A.D.), according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Icel and his son Cnebba arrived in Briton c. 499 A.D.)

"Indeed so, Lord Icel, for after scouting Aldburg, I have reported it freed of Dunlendings and held by allied soldiers from Stāningeard," Helluin announced. Her words were greeted with broad smiles, the stamping of feet, and much joyous commentary. Hearing the noise, more people gathered 'round. To their even greater elation, she added, "The Men of Mundburg 'neath the command of Captain Beleg march west as we speak and intend to meet with Lord Fréaláf at Edoras after clearing the road through the Eastfold of foes."

"Such welcome tidings we have not heard since 'twas made known that Edoras was retaken and Wulf slain," Wærferð said and those standing 'nigh nodded happily in agreement. "Our fortunes turn with the weather."

Helluin nodded and said, "Upon the Climbing Stair the snow is melted away, but the track is still muddy and some water runs down. When Captain Beleg reaches Edoras, Lord Fréaláf will feel the city's defense secure and be able to send Riders to aid in the descent of the carts. Ye shall be able to return home at last."

At that, the hearkening throng in the longhouse lost all propriety with people whooping and shouting, dancing and hugging, singing and laughing, laughing, laughing. 'Aught that was said in counsel thereafter was drowned out and but a few heard Helluin say that she was bound for Súthburg. The Eorlingas were still celebrating as she took her leave and only the miller bid her a safe journey.

Outside the longhouse, Helluin crossed the Firienfeld to find Hildmearh facing a dozen horses, all seemingly deep in a council of their own. Several milch cows had joined them, and a pair of sheep with chickens standing on their backs. At the Noldo's approach, they broke off their discussion and the warhorse turned to meet Helluin's eyes.

No one here has e'er seen a ship, she immediately said, and they are highly skeptical that such water-borne houses of Men could be. I shall not believe in them 'til I see them.

Very well, the Noldo said, not deigning to argue the point. I pray thee seek counsel from the horses of Gondor should we meet some at Súthburg. Let us be on our way thither.

With a grumble, Hildmearh nodded. Helluin mounted and they set off to descend the Climbing Stair. Once back down in Harrowdale, they took the track through the canyon that wound its way west beside the tributary of the Snowbourn. The water level was slightly elevated from early snowmelt, and from the watermarks coloring the canyon walls to either side, would surely rise higher during the spring. The track lay carpeted with soft snow half the height of the horse's cannons.

By evening, they had passed the four leagues through the canyon and stopped for the night in an open patch where some grass had grown 'twixt the surrounding trees. Hildmearh grazed, nosing aside the snow to reach the faded grass and mumbling o'er its poor quality the whole time. Helluin groaned silently to herself and took a seat on a log to keep watch. Eventually the light faded and the warhorse dozed off standing upright, complaining with her last waking thought of detesting the prospect of a bed of slush after suffering through a dinner of slush.

With dawn's light Hildmearh's head popped up and with her first waking thought said, Helluin, the winter has ruined this land. I wager t'will be many years ere Rohan recovers its magnificent carpet of grass and its endless fields of firm footing. I feel great sorrow for the Eorlingas…and their Riders too.

Helluin nodded, for the excesses of the winter past had wrought much suffering, but the plains would return to their prior lush richness.

The grasslands of Rohan shall recover, Hildmearh, and surprisingly soon, I wager. Although this spring shall be one of fens, bogs, and o'erflowing streams, summer shall bring the greening of the realm. Horses and Men shall revel in their homeland once again. I do worry for them though, if this year's growing season is too short with the spring planting delayed.

Think thou that the spring rains shall come in torrents as in the year just past?

I deem that too was unusual, she said, for on this day last year, the rains of spring had already been falling for a week as we awaited the deaths of the last Easterlings of their sickness. 'Twas the morn of 3 Gwirith 2759.

I recall that, though not by date, the warhorse said. Yet the rains might come at any time.

Aye, they might, Helluin admitted.

Then we should be on our way in haste lest we spend another spring soaked to the skin! Let us be on our way this instant!

Though the Noldo doubted that even the swiftest steed could outrun the weather, she had no desire to tarry on the way to Súthburg. With a nod, she mounted and Hildmearh took off down the track through the foothills at a determined trot. She slowed not 'til midday. After a break for the noon meal, she continued just as fast 'til nightfall.

Hildmearh had maintained that same pace for the next four days and in the mid-afternoon of 6 Gwirith, they came to the dell whither the widow Godlic's home stood…or had stood.

Helluin dismounted with eyes wide in shock as she stared at the vacant site where the peculiar house had been. Rather than three narrow stories shabbied with age, she marked only the stumps of two great oaks, rotten and crumbling, and a third tree leaning at a truly precarious angle greater than what she recalled seeing but three weeks aforetime. Of the house, there was 'naught to be recognized. 'Round the feet of the stumps lay a patch of ground thinly blanketed with snow and sparsely scattered with the winter-dried remnants of herbs and ferns. Of the outbuilding, Mul's tiny stable, there was no trace amidst the bare winter brush and saplings.

"What in Ennorath…" the Noldo muttered, unable to believe what she saw. "What sorcery is this?"

As one bespelled, Helluin hesitantly walked into the deserted lot. 'Aught that had been built of wood had long ago rotted into 'naught. No trace of timbers or boards was there to be found. No fragment of walls, doors, stairs, or floors had survived. No hint of lintels, joists, stringers, or sashes remained. It seemed that even the iron nails had completely rusted away. After some minutes, the Noldo finally marked a few jagged, scattered shards of glass that might once have come from a windowpane. Perhaps a home had stood here, long aforetime.

Buried on the side of the lot diagonally opposite from where she remembered the door had stood, Helluin found fragments of brick, some pieces attesting to their wedge-shaped cross-sections. From the arch atop a fireplace, I wager, she thought. Here aforetime was Godlic's kitchen hearth. She kicked a few pieces free of the soil and stopped dead, a gasp frozen in her throat.

The Noldo fell to her knees and with shaking fingers, scrabbled in the earth 'til she had freed three shards, still glossy and bone white. These fragments she fitted together to reveal the shoulder and flanged lip whereupon a lid had sat, the base of a handle where it had blended into the body of a vessel, and the upper portion of a side with a molded geometric pattern in low relief. By its design and decoration, I should swear 'twas of Dwarf make. I would wager gold coins of Doriath that 'tis the same as Haldir bartered Elvish rope for on the lady's behalf in 1431. Hath it lain here shattered since the 1980s?

There was no way that she could know and probably no way that she could e'er learn the truth. What had happened and when were a mystery and would remain so it seemed; but one more of many to be found in Middle Earth if one lived long enough to stumble upon them. The Noldo shook her head in amazement and returned the fragments of Nimrodel's teapot to the earth. And there let them lie.

With a sigh, Helluin rose to her feet and returned to Hildmearh who offered her a questioning glance. Alas, the warhorse had not come to the widow Godlic's home aforetime and could not attest to having seen it now. Mul was likely gone as long as Godlic and Lofain, and that left Fréaláf, Heorte, and Agrona, each of whom had visited the peculiar home whilst traveling to or from Súthburg.

Let us continue on our way, she told the mare, we have still four leagues ere we come to the coomb and the afternoon grows old. Hildmearh nodded and when she had mounted, set off west at a trot.

The afternoon light had faded and dark had fallen ere they reached the last foothills of the track. 'Nigh the place where she had led Heorte and Agrona into the coomb, Helluin stared out through the trees, surveying a landscape riddled with abandoned enemy shelters. No columns of smoke rose into the night sky now, no sounds of coughing or cursing could be heard. The land 'neath Thrihyrne's peak 'twixt its descending ridges was deserted by all the Noldo could sense. It seemed that despite the growing thaw, the Dunlendings had not advanced towards the dike.

Having approached during the winter only afoot, she spoke briefly with Hildmearh ere they set off towards the road.

'Twixt us and the track leading to the fortress are many excavated shelters, she told the warhorse, and though they appear empty, their presence makes footing treacherous. We shall make for the road directly, thereby to minimize the count of such places we must pass. Be ware.

Sounds like a field riddled with mole runs and rabbit holes, the mare said with distaste. By thy leave, I shall proceed at a walk.

I deem that prudent, Hildmearh. I have memorized the placement of many of these shelters and shall steer thee from them, yet still, I bid thee step with care. The road itself should be safe.

The mare nodded in agreement, then took a deep breath and paced forward, eyeing the ground with distrust. They went at a careful walk, each step considered as Helluin guided the warhorse 'round half-buried trenches and Hildmearh minced her way past midden piles, corpses, and heaps of bones. The surrounding silence continued unbroken, the Corsairs having fled weeks ago and the Dunlendings too fearful of their tales of the Berserker king and the black ghost to advance onto such accursed ground. After enduring a stressful quarter part of an hour, they reached the road to the fortress at last.

Our way to Súthburg should be safe now, Helluin told Hildmearh. The warhorse snorted and took off towards the dike at a trot.

Passing the trench and dike, the mare looked askance at the impaled bodies, skeletonized now after being picked o'er by rats and crows.

How gruesome, Helluin. What a dismal place to suffer the winter, she said. By then, they had passed into the coomb 'twixt the earthworks and the Deeping wall and she marked the remains of the line of bodies standing against the dike's inner face. This is a disturbing place, indeed quite macabre.

I had not noticed, Helluin replied. I suppose I was preoccupied when last here.

At this, the horse stopped and turned her neck to stare at the Noldo in disbelief.

How couldst thou not have noticed such a collection of wretches?

Oh, I marked them. Indeed, I placed many of them thither. I was simply unimpressed.

Hildmearh asked, Helluin, is this place truly safe? This fortress seems an abode of the dead.

'Tis quite safe. Súthburg is held by friends. Now that thou mention it though, the winter has been grim, many despaired, and the décor came to match their mood. It offered them much needed cheer when 'naught else could.

I see, the warhorse said, still doubtful. She proceeded towards the causeway at a very slow trot.

Now in fact their progress had been marked by watchmen on the wall walks from the time they breached the dike. Many had tracked them along the road as they approached the gate. When they came up the causeway at a walk, the guards hailed them and Helluin answered. The Noldo was welcomed as a returning ally, and though the sentries seemed somber, the gates swung open inviting them in.

Helluin had just begun wondering whyfor the Riders of Súthburg seemed so melancholy when an arrow shot from the wall walk atop the gatehouse pinged off her cuirass and deflected away into the night. In a heartbeat, she had a broadhead arrow on the drawn string of her own bow and was seeking for a target. She fully expected 'twas some foeman come in stealth 'nigh the outer curtain wall, perhaps having crawled along the course of the Deeping Stream, but the truth was more appalling and unforeseen.

She heard the stretching of a bowstring preparing for a second shot and swung the steel war bow of Númenor to find it. Then she held.

A second arrow she deflected away with the bracer on her left forearm as she relaxed the tension on her bowstring. Alas, this target she could not shoot.

Atop the gatehouse, Agrona and Eadmundr were wrestling o'er a bow with Princess Heorte who was fighting them like a terrier with a rat. Still, they finally managed to o'erpower her and wrangle the weapon away. Helluin replaced her arrow in her quiver and shouldered her bow, shaking her head in irritation.

With such friends, thou scarcely need foes, Helluin. I ask again, is this place truly safe?

The Noldo could only shrug and say, 'Tis the princess…I have not enjoyed her favour of late.

The mare rolled her eyes at that and said, Surely we shall not enter this accursed fortress now?

"My apologies, Helluin," Second Marshal Eadmundr called down, (as the princess cursed like a sailor in the background). "Pray join me in the keep, for I would take counsel with thee."

"I shall be but a moment, my lord," Helluin said, dipping her head to the Lord of the Westfold.

So like her father the king, the princess is a murderous Berserker? Hildmearh asked.

T'would seem so, aye, Helluin replied, or perhaps she hath become possessed. Let me hear what the marshal has to say.

They rode through the gate and Helluin dismounted, handing Hildmearh o'er to a groom whom the mare regarded with suspicion and distrust but followed anyway in hope of better fodder. The Noldo then nodded to the cheerless sentries and made her way to the keep.

She found Eadmundr seated at table in the council chamber, for they had not resumed heating the great hall. When she appeared at the door, he waved her forward and gestured to a seat. This she took and sat hearkening to the marshal who seemed tired and grim.

"Helluin, I must first apologize for Princess Heorte's conduct," he said, shaking his head. "The days since thy last leave-taking have not been easy for her, or for the rest of us."

"I had lost her favour aforetime," Helluin said, "for she faulted me for encouraging her father in his Berserking. Still, I had not expected that her loathing of me had graduated to violence. Yet whither is Helm King, for I bear joyous tidings for him from Edoras and Aldburg."

Rather than appearing jubilant, Eadmundr sighed and looked more tired still.

"Alas, thy tidings are tardy, Helluin. Helm King is fallen, felled by fever rather than foemen. Who could have foreseen such, robust and resilient as he had e'er been?"

His words struck her like a mailed fist and she sat with mouth agape in shock, shaking her head in denial, and hard pressed to countenance his tidings. 'Twas long ere she could even find words with which to question him.

"How could this come to pass?" she finally asked. Eadmundr shook his head sadly and gathered his thoughts ere he answered her.

"After thy departure, Helm King developed an affliction of the season. It worsened with each day that passed. Soon, his nose runneth o'er, his eyes grew bleary, sneezing he had and coughing in fits with phlegm aplenty. Then a fever took hold and it broke not, but increased day by day. When a week had gone, he was reeling, disoriented, and his suffering showed no sign of surcease. With the 25th came delirium.

Then he ranted o'er the Dunlendings and the Southrons and how they would return should we slacken our vigilance. To our watchmen's reports that 'naught moved and no smoke came from their shelters, he paid no heed. He became convinced that our enemies gathered in secret all 'round us and none could dissuade him from his surety that they massed beyond the dike. Heorte spent 'nigh e'ery moment trying to pacify him, but 'twas in vain.

On the 27th, he called for his pelt and he called for his horn. When none would fetch them, he raged and cursed, but finally fell into a stupor and we deemed that a good thing."

The marshal shook his head in dismay at his memories of his brother-in-law's condition.

"The 28th dawned and he awoke. Calmer he seemed at first, yet his fever was undiminished. The hours passed and he grew agitated, resuming his predictions of a coming assault but with yet greater urgency. Night fell and after a final outburst, he seemed to sleep.

Heorte, Hild, and I broke briefly for a supper long delayed. Alas that none stayed by his side. When we returned to his sickbed, he was gone. Despite his state, he passed the guards in the keep and the sentries on the walls and at the gate with cunning stealth. Thus, he issued from the fortress by the postern door, and after blowing a blast on his horn, made his way to the dike one last time.

Now whether he roamed the coomb or no, we learnt not. No foes did he find, but perhaps he saw them in his fancy. Perhaps he slew their phantasms there too. Yet whether in memories of past mayhem or in fantasies of combat renewed, he passed the night, and only with dawn's light was he marked in Súthburg.

Upon the dike, he made his last stand, and standing thither we found him, frozen, already dead and stiff, behamed in his Werewolf pelt and clutching his horn. As a statue hewn in white marble like those at Mundburg, our sire seemed. We brought him back and laid him to rest in the Deeping Coomb, and one day, we shall lay him in a mound at Edoras, last king of his line."

Helluin sat shaking her head in shock and amazement. At her leave-taking on 15 Gwaeron, Helm had seemed slightly unwell, but he had dismissed her concern for his health saying, 'Tis but a trifle of the season, no more, and 'naught that a full meal, a mug of ale, and bit more sleep shant cure. I shall soon be well. For better or worse, she had believed him. For a long time, neither of them said 'aught.

"Princess Heorte condemns thee for encouraging her father's Berserking, deeming that his sickness comes from his nights spent in the coomb," Eadmundr said at last. "Yet Helm was not alone in falling thus and others have perished of the same malady who ne'er left the fortress or the caves."

To this Helluin nodded, having expected no less. Winter and early spring were challenging times to the health of mortals as sickness walked the lands reaping those huddled together in close company, weakened by the cold or the lessened availability of food. 'Twas so in each year.

"A week has passed since finding her father frozen dead upon the dike and her sorrow has turned to anger," Eadmundr said. "Thou could scarcely have chosen a worse time to appear."

"Such is my sense of timing or the Valar's sense of humor, I reckon," Helluin said with a groan of resignation, "and for once, I came bearing joyous tidings…huh."

"I for one could use hearing 'aught that is not depressing," the marshal said. "How fares my son?"

"Lord Fréaláf has retaken Edoras. The Dunlendings are slain and he dismissed Wulf from Meduseld, diminished in manhood and driven from the city to die in the snow and feed the wolves," she said, and marked the growing smile that shaped the Lord of Súthburg's lips.

"Those are tidings fine enough to offset much," he said, "and indeed finer than I had hoped after hearing that he had taken refuge in Dunharrow."

"Dunharrow has served the people well, my lord, and disfame aside, 'tis a strong defensive position not to be disregarded at need."

"That it hath served the people well this winter, I shall not contest, though the notion of the accursed in Dwimorberg still leaves my heart chill," he admitted.

"They have not been seen, and perhaps the belief that chickens hold them at bay was enough to give the people heart to stay," Helluin said.

The lord looked at her and muttered, "They have chickens…and…and they have eggs?"

"Indeed so my lord, and many, for where there is one, usually there is the other and none know which came first, but I have more to tell."

"Say on then, Helluin. Thy tidings are a balm to my mind after the trials of the past week."

"In late summer last, Wulf sent five hundreds from Edoras to occupy Aldburg, which had been emptied in spring by order of the king. They found the city deserted and with prudence, spent the remaining warm months provisioning it. These Men of mixed blood passed the winter in comfort and plenty, alone of all Wulf's troops. I met them on Tuilérë, that being one week past, when they surrendered the fortress to Captain Beleg of Gondor, who by now has marched his troops to Edoras to support thy son."

"Gondor! Gondor has come at last?" he asked, dumbfounded, and at her nod 'aye' laughed aloud. "Glad am I at thine arrival, Helluin. I only wish my brother could hear thy words."

"I had hoped t'would be to him that I gave my report," she said, then continued with, "I wager that with these reinforcements, Lord Fréaláf feels Edoras secure enough to send his Riders to Dunharrow to aid the people in returning to their city."

"Home at last, Béma be praised," he said. "Thy words lighten my heart."

"My lord, Súthburg too shall be relieved, for another host from Gondor approaches the Fords of Isen. Of Captain Beleg, I have learnt that they passed into the far west of Gondor, crossed the Isen downstream from the mouth of Adorn, and there assailed and took a dozen Corsair ships as prizes, sailing them back to Pelargir.

The remainder of that host draws 'nigh, but the Corsairs who invaded Rohan are now stranded and the Dunlendings shall be forced into combat. Soon, my lord, the invaders shall be driven from the Westfold."

"Then the tide of war has truly turned at last. I would drive the dregs of Wulf's army to the jaws of our allies from Gondor. Finally, the Eorlingas must ride again!"

Eadmundr probably would have leapt up and sounded the call to arms at once had Helluin not begged a pause. As 'twas, he had begun to rise from his chair.

"A moment, my lord, I pray thee," she said with sufficient urgency to stay him.

"Thou wish to join the combat, O ally of long renown?" he asked. "Thou art welcome and thy prowess is willingly received!"

"No…I mean aye, I shall join thee in combat, my lord, but there is more of which I would apprise thee ere we take the field."

The marshal raised a brow in question, but resumed his seat and hearkened to her for all her news thus far had been good beyond hope.

"Those who surrendered Aldburg to Captain Beleg bear thy consideration. Many of them are descended from soldiers of Gondor who manned the garrison of Isengard ere the Great Plague. They were forgotten by the kings of old and o'er time, chose local women as wives and started families in the lands south of the fortress. More recently, they were joined by kin who fled Dunland to escape Freca, but were later impressed into service by Wulf and then sent from Edoras to die in Aldburg during the winter. They despised him and renounced any loyalty to him and his kin for they were the first to lose their lands in his invasion. They are as much thy people as they were his, for their blood blends Dunlending, Rohirrim, and Gondorim from long ago."

"Do I know these people? Are they an army of foes?"

"My lord, they are farmers, herders, and hunters, as are many of the Eorlingas. They have dwelt peacefully in the lands just south of Isengard for o'er a thousand years."

Now Eadmundr sat still and silent giving thought to what he had just heard. Finally, a memory from his younger days came to him.

"In 2710 came reports to Gram King in Edoras of Dunlendings crossing Isen and invading Rohan. He sent messages to Steward Beren. 'Naught came of it though, as I recall."

"'Twas no invasion, Lord Eadmundr. 'Twas simply the kith and kin of those long settled fleeing the conscription and raiding of Freca. I met these Men in 2713 and found them peaceful, though they were forced at times to defend themselves from Orcs of Methedras. In this, I reckon they spared the Rohirrim from attacks by that foul kindred."

"Unknown to us, they had settled 'round Isengard…unknowingly they defended our lands?"

"They were here a thousand years ere Eorl came."

The Second Marshal shook his head in amazement at learning that the folk he had reckoned foes were actually the original tenants of the land, descended in part from the stewards' people. They were landholders by prior right of the kings.

"What wouldst thou have me do, Helluin? I am not king and the past kings did 'naught. Even the stewards did 'naught and they were their people."

"My counsel is practical rather than political, my lord. I would bid thee ignore them as has long been done. Leave them to farm their corner of land that is partly within and partly beyond the bounds of thy realm. They have no designs on Rohan and any expansion shall be by the slow growth of fields and pastures as their numbers increase through the years. In return, they shall oppose the Orcs of the Misty Mountains, asking no thanks or support of the crown. They are a buffer against thy foes, Lord Eadmundr, whilst that part of Rohan is peopled by few."

"'Tis true that in my lifetime they have caused no trouble to horse or Man that I know of," he mused. "Of their fights with the Orcs we have heard 'naught." For a few moments more he sat thinking, but finally he said, "Practical, thou say…in practice, I have far more concerns than peaceful farmers who are part-blood Dunlendings, part-blood allies, and partly our own. Very well. I shall do as have my kings and ignore them so long as they are peaceful."

Helluin nodded and said, "The path of least resistance is oft also the path of greatest wisdom. There is but one further concern." At this, the Lord of Súthburg groaned, but hearkened nonetheless.

"Crossing Rohan and bound for the fords are a party of Corsairs numbering three hundreds. They came of Edoras where they stood aside as thy son assailed and worsted Wulf and his Men. For the boon of raising no arms against his Riders, Lord Fréaláf deigned to allow their withdrawal unfought. I reckon they shall not oppose thee either, for they are sick of this war and want no part of it. Indeed, they were only in Rohan to win passage cross-country to assail Gondor from Anórien. Having failed in this, they seek to return to their ships."

"And these would be the same ships that the host of Gondor took of late?"

"Aye and perhaps they shall encounter that host and either surrender to it or be destroyed."

"And what wouldst thou have of me should we meet them first?" Eadmundr asked.

"Ignore them if they raise no arms against thee. I wager that if they see me with thee, they shall again stand aside, for I brokered their exit from Edoras."

To this, the marshal nodded 'aye', again accepting the Noldo's counsel.

"I am not eager to face their crossbows and so long as they shoot not, we shall save our wrath for the remnants of Wulf's host."

"Excellent, my lord, I would not have thee spend time or blood needlessly," Helluin said. "Now, when do we ride?"

To that, Eadmundr chuckled, and after considering the time, said, "In the morn, Helluin. There is much to arrange and we mortals must sleep."

As the Second Marshal went to give orders for the attack, Helluin decided the time ripe to seek answers to her other gnawing question. Alas, speaking with Princess Heorte seemed out of the question for civility was lacking, but perhaps if she could find Agrona, she might get an answer. She guessed that the Shieldmaiden would be one of the first to learn about the new plans for the war and so she roamed the corridors of the keep, hoping to find the warrior.

After a fruitless hour in which a general excitement grew in the fortress but the princess and the Shieldmaiden were nowhere to be found, the Noldo finally gave up, resolving to meet Agrona the following morn ere riding off to war. She left the keep and repaired to the walk atop the inner curtain wall to view the stars.

Although a background hum of voices came from the courtyard below and many soldiers moved to and fro in preparation for the morrow's battle, the wall walk was populated only by the few sentries on duty. They numbered exactly five, spread out at intervals where they kept watch on the lands beyond the lower, outer curtain wall. These included the course of the Deeping Stream, the road, the dike, and lost in the darkness beyond, the outer reaches of the coomb. Not a thing moved and no fires or torches burned there; the land beyond the fortress was indeed deserted.

For a while, Helluin watched the stars, periodically obscured by a few scudding clouds that cast their shadows by the light of Ithil's waxing half. She reckoned the third hour after nightfall passing and two hours lay ahead ere midnight. Gradually, the activity in Súthburg diminished as Men went to their rest and the night grew quieter.

The shutting of a door and a soft sigh came to the Noldo's ears, perhaps one of the women who aided in the kitchen or served with the healers is taking a break from late night duties as the fortress prepared for war, Helluin thought. She paid it no heed. Yet after a while, when she did not hear the door reopen or footsteps retreating inside, she turned.

Approaching her was the very warrior she had sought earlier that night; Agrona had stepped from the keep, perhaps for a respite from the earlier stress of her arrival. The Shieldmaiden had obviously marked her presence on the wall and was coming to join her. When she drew 'nigh, the Noldo acknowledged her with a nod as Agrona swept her figure with a glance as if seeking damage from Heorte's arrows.

"Helluin, I am glad thou took no hurt at thine arrival," she said in greeting.

"The arrows were of no consequence. 'Tis the depth of the princess' enmity that wounds me," the Noldo replied. "Lord Eadmundr explained that she blames me for her father's death."

Agrona nodded and after a moment for thought, said, "I deem she blames thee not for his sickness, but for thy support of his delusions that led to his manner of death. Had he passed abed and in peace, her hatred would be much reduced."

"I ken her feelings and yet still I believe that Helm King was right in his prosecution of the defense. He had few options and few resources to fend off the siege. Seldom have I seen one Man at war achieve so much in so short a time. With the appearance of madness, he terrified his enemies, won the relief of Súthburg, and enabled the survival of his people."

"With thine aid, he drove the invaders from the coomb, but had he confided in his Men, they would have joined him afield. He was their sire and they loved him."

Her points were good, but Helluin could only shake her head for by their very loyalty the Rohirrim would have bought his failure and defeat.

"What would have come to pass had a few hundred starving Men joined Helm in assailing yonder lines?" When Agrona offered 'naught in reply, the Noldo continued. "A mass attack would have galvanized the Corsairs and Dunlendings in a mass response. The effort of weakened Men sortieing from Súthburg to attack established positions would have led to many casualties amongst the Riders and brought reinforcements from beyond the coomb. Their efforts would have been for 'naught and t'would be the bodies of Rohirrim that littered the frozen ground whilst the enemy consolidated their positions and the siege continued."

Agrona was experienced enough a warrior to imagine just what Helluin had described. Reluctantly, she nodded in agreement and said, "'Tis likely, what thou say."

"T'would only have been with o'erwhelming numbers that such an assault could succeed and even then, the death toll would have been grievous," Helluin said. "Agrona, Helm King had been at war all his life; he knew these things well. Upon himself he took the jeopardy, sparing his folk by his love for them that which would have brought their defeat. Recall him for the hero he was, not the madman some deemed him."

When she looked closely, she saw tears tracking down Agrona's face.

"Thy words have decided the question that has plagued me this night since hearing Lord Eadmundr's plan to renew the war," the Shieldmaiden said. When Helluin raised a brow in question, she said, "With the host I shall ride to war, to honor he who was like a father to us all."

But Helluin shook her head 'nay' and spoke gravely to Agrona.

"One spear more, even when wielded by the truest heart, shall make little difference in dismissing the enemy. Agrona, Princess Heorte has lost her family this year. Pray do not torment her heart with the thought of losing her beloved as well. Stay with her whilst the last of the war is won. Gondor comes at last and the Dunlendings shall be crushed and driven from the Westfold. To part in time of war is to invite heartbreak."

The Shieldmaiden met Helluin's eyes intending to protest, but she perceived therein a depth of heartache and regret that fairly stilled her heart. Ancient of years beyond the ken of Men I know her to be, and what loss of love has she endured to speak from such experience to me? I dare not drink from that well of pain. Reluctantly, she again nodded her agreement.

"I shall remain in Súthburg with my heart."

Helluin breathed a sigh of relief and thought, Would that I had done the same in 1851.

"I have a question for thee, Agrona, for a mystery was presented to me on my journey hither from Edoras." 'Twas now the Shieldmaiden who raised a brow in question, bidding the Noldo speak. "Aforetime I had met the widow Godlic and her granddaughter Lofain in a peculiar house set in a dell a dozen miles east. We visited there aforetime on our way from Dunharrow as we returned the widow's mule. I met her again after taking my leave in mid-Gwaeron to return thither. Dost thou recall it?"

But Agrona was staring at Helluin with eyes wide, and when she finally spoke, her words chilled the Noldo's heart.

"Nay, I do not, nor do any I know. I met no mule either, for our people ride horses. 'Tis of ancient lore of Rohan thou speak, Helluin, and I am surprised thou know it," she said. "If I recall the legend aright, 'twas in the early years of Eorl's reign when he toured the bounds to take the measure of his new realm that he came to the first dell ere reaching the old Westmen's fortress of Aglarond. There he and his party saw a strange house built upon stilts wherein dwelt an ancient witch and her maiden granddaughter.

The witch named herself Godlic and came to Eorl straightaway, unmindful of his entourage, and spoke words of prophecy for his ears alone, though the words became known in latter days.

Nine mounds and eight there shall be,

Beyond the gate of a city on a hill.

Green with grass and speckled white,

Where Simbelmyrnë grows to honor the kings.

xxxxxx

Nine mounds and eight there shall be,

But the third line after is uncounted.

Green with grass and speckled white,

More numerous than stars in the night they'll shine.

"Pray understand that in those days, there was no Edoras, no city on a hill, and no barrows of the kings that stand before it," Agrona said. "Eorl ne'er lived to see 'aught of the prophecy. As legend 'twas regarded, yet now I believe the witch's words, for Helm lies dead, the ninth and last king of Eorl's direct line."

"So then Godlic's house stood in the dell in the early years of Eorl's reign," Helluin mused. "Know thy folk for how long it stood?"

"Nay, we do not, save that when Brego King expelled Rohan's foes after taking the throne he came west to war on the Dunlendings and no house stood in the dell. I reckon by then some score and fifteen years had passed since Eorl's visit."

"And yet Godlic's house stood at least from early Nínui when Fréaláf met her and borrowed her mule 'til mid-Gwaeron when I last saw it," Helluin said.

"I would wager that Fréaláf recalls 'naught of such a meeting for I do not," Agrona said. "I should certainly remember such a haunting had I seen it and I would have shied from entering that house."

"Well, 'tis gone now in any case," Helluin said. "Yestereve 'twas an abandoned lot I found."

"'Tis probably just as well then," Agrona said, "for such eldritch apparitions are not calming to mortal Men. I bid thee a fair night, Helluin, and good fortune in battle."

The Noldo nodded her thanks for their conversation as Agrona made her way back to the keep.

The morn of 7 Gwirith dawned and the horns of the Eorlingas rang in the coomb. From the gates of Súthburg, three thousand gaunt riders issued and rode forth down the causeway. They massed on the field behind the dike, a mounted throng in green woolen cloaks and polished steel helms bristling with spears, round wooden shields bearing the painted designs of the Rohirrim hanging from guige straps at their backs.

At the fore rode Second Marshal Eadmundr, the surviving ranking commander of the Eorlingas, and beside him and his captains, their ally Helluin. The Lord of the Westfold spoke some words, dampened by the distance so they could not be heard clearly by those upon the walls, and his Men raised their spears and gave great shouts of 'Eorl!' and 'Helm!' in reply. Then he swept his arm forward and the host began to move, first at a trot, then at a canter, and finally at a gallop, passing down the road, through the gap in the dike, and out into the coomb to confront their enemies. Hild, Heorte, and Agrona were amongst those who watched them go.

The lands 'twixt the arms of Thrihyrne had remained deserted, this they all knew, and so they continued on 'til they came to the juncture with the Great West Road. Thither, by some divine coincidence, they emerged barely a furlong west of a company of Corsairs, heavily bundled in thick winter garb and bearing their deadly crossbows. They were clearly marching west and at the rumor of the thunder of hooves, they halted and prepared for battle. In the nine days since 28 Gwaeron, they had come seven score miles from Edoras. In response, the Rohirrim turned and came to a halt, facing them down and preparing to charge.

Now seeing them, Helluin rose and stood in full view atop Hildmearh's back. At the fore of the host, she was unmistakable. Then she called out to the Corsairs in their own tongue.

"Hazadazarî of Umbar, stand down! Ye are not the ones we seek!"

After a few tense moments, one of the Corsairs issued orders and the marines of Umbar lowered their weapons. Then he came a few paces from the fore of his company and bowed to the Noldo.

"Helluin Maeg-móremenel of the Host of Finwë, we honor the accord of Edoras," he called out. "As aforetime with Lord Fréaláf, we decline battle with thine allies." He then issued a further order and to the astonishment of the Rohirrim, the Corsairs sat down on the road and waited.

"My lord, I pray thee honor the agreement thy son made with these Men and engage them not. They make for the Fords of Isen, intent on leaving thy lands. They have demonstrated their earnest. I deem we should do the same."

Much as his reflex hatred urged him to smite these Southrons, Lord Eadmundr was loath to make faithless his son and heir. Practical she said, he thought, recalling their council of yesternight. Ignore them if they raise no arms against thee. I wager that if they see me with thee, they shall again stand aside, for I brokered their exit from Edoras, Helluin had said. I am still not eager to face their crossbows without cause, and on this day, they have given me none, he realized.

The marshal stood in his stirrups and cried out to his host, "North, we continue north! Scourge the lands of Wulf's followers…leave these Men to their march!"

With a sweep of his arm, Eadmundr led his Riders from the road and into the open lands north to prosecute their war against the Dunlendings. In his wake, Helluin gave Hazadazarî a nod of farewell that he returned, and when the Rohirrim had passed and only the diminishing rumble of their hoof beats remained, the Corsairs rose and continued on their way west.

Now in the chants of the bards of Rohan and in the annals in the Steward's Library in Minas Tirith there are many accounts of the scourging of the Westfold. With the failing of the Long Winter, the Rohirrim came, desperate, hungry, and wrathful, upon their enemies. But by the fourth month of 2759, the Easterlings had perished of disease, the Corsairs had withdrawn in disgust, and that left the Dunlendings who had followed Wulf, whether by choice or coercion.

In the lands of the West Emnet, Marshal Eadmundr and the Eorlingas found their foes and they drove them with great slaughter back o'er the Fords of Isen whence they had come. It hath been (unofficially) estimated that of e'ery thousand invaders who came with war against Helm King, scarcely two hundreds survived to return to their ancestral lands. The invasion of Rohan had been an unmitigated disaster, and from foothills of Methedras to the banks of the Isen south of Adorn, Men cursed the names of Freca and Wulf for their suffering.

After a fortnight, they had met the host from Gondor and great was the celebrating 'twixt these sworn allies, and then together, they continued to prosecute the war.

Defeated, the Dunlendings limped home and resumed their lives as best they could, scratching their mean livelihoods from the dirt, or with bows, snares, and traps, or with fishing poles, or as brigands along the unpatrolled roads of the old kings. 'Twas a testament to their rejection of o'erlords past and future that thereafter no leader since has been known by name save one, even to the end of the Third Age.

'Twas in early Lothron after a month of fighting that Eadmundr came with his Riders to the precincts of Isengard where lay the northwestern bounds of his realm. There he found farms and pastures, and Men planting in haste as the spring season passed all too swiftly. Save for the half that bore dark hair, they could have been the people of any hamlet in Rohan, and as Helluin had once told him, their lands lay on both sides of the boundary.

At the appearance of the Rohirrim host, the Men stayed their planting and regarded the army with troubled expressions. Then their eyes lit on a figure in black armor and they felt hope. Helluin dismounted and left Hildmearh to graze beside Eadmundr's steed.

"Lieutenant Eadric, well met," she said as they clasped forearms. "I am glad to see thou made it home safe and in time for the spring planting".

"'Tis just' Eadric now, Helluin. I'm no longer a lieutenant, jus' as I'm no longer a soldier. I'm a farmer an' hunter again at last, an' very glad of it." They traded grins at that.

"There is one here I would have thee meet," she said, casting a glance to the Rohirrim host.

Eadric sighed but nodded 'aye', not that the prospect of greeting a Lord of the Eorlingas did not fill him with uncertainty. The stranger held their fate in his hands.

Helluin led the farmer o'er to where Eadmundr sat his warhorse and introduced them.

"My lord Eadmundr, I would have thee meet Eadric, a descendant of the guardians of Isengard, but also a Man of blended Dunlendish and Rohirric blood," she said. Then, "Eadric, pray greet Eadmundr, Lord of Súthburg and the Westfold, and Second Marshal of the realm."

The farmer bowed and the marshal dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"Well met, Eadric. Helluin has said thou and thy folk have long tilled these lands," he said.

"Aye, my lord, since ere the Great Dyin'."

"Lord Eadmundr, the Great Plague struck these lands in 1635-6, but Eadric's ancestor served in the garrison here in the days of King Eldacar, 1447-1490."

Eadmundr nodded, accepting her words, for he had no wisdom to gainsay her. His people had dwelt in Rhovanion 'twixt Celduin and Carnen in that time, so long ago that they were not yet even the Éothéod, let alone the Eorlingas. Thirteen centuries had come and gone since this Man's ancestor had arrived in service to Gondor. They were landholders by prior right of the kings.

"Helluin has also said that ye despise the Orcs," Eadmundr said. He saw the Man tense at the mention of that name, and his eyes took on a dangerous glint. Subconsciously, Eadric reached to his belt, but for planting, he bore no sword. Yet the sincerity of his hatred was not lost on the marshal.

"Those I'd slay on sight ere they spoke a word, my lord. They attacked in the days o' my eald fæder an' eald módor an' would likely have troubled us since save that Helluin slaughtered all in Methedras after."

"We are akin in this, Eadric, and I esteem thy folk for saving mine from facing them," he said. "I wager we are akin in more than this for my folk too are farmers, hunters, and herders. I wish thee fair weather and a good harvest. We take our leave."

The marshal dipped his head to the farmer who returned his farewell with a bow. Ere she mounted to follow, he spoke briefly with Helluin.

"An' that's it, Helluin? He's leavin' us be?"

"Of course," she said, smiling. "He hath no reason not to and more than enough reason to leave ye to your livings." She sighed and added, "Many of the Rohirrim have fallen in the war and during the winter. He hath not enough people to populate the rest of his lands and keep them safe from foes.

"An' so he'd rather we be allies than foes?" Eadric asked with dawning cheer.

"Just so, and I wager t'will be long ere he hath any reason to think otherwise."

"An' what o' the king in Edoras?"

"Helm king is fallen, and I wager the next king shall be Lord Eadmundr's son Fréaláf. I reckon he shall accept his father's policies in his father's lands, just as his father honored an accord his son had made," she said as she swung up onto Hildmearh's back. She recalled Godlic the witch's prediction, Protect Eadmundrsson, Helluin. The throne he wins shall be his own.

"Then all's well that ends well, or so 'tis said," Eadric said happily, "at least for now."

"All things change with time, Eadric, but for now, aye, all is as 'twas ere the war save that Wulf is gone. Pray enjoy thy lands and thy life, my friend. None may truly know the future or what it holds."

"Safe travels then, my friend, an' thanks!"

She caught up with Eadmundr and the Rohirrim straightaway and when she again rode beside him, the marshal said, "'Tis as thou said, t'would seem. They are a buffer against thy foes, whilst that part of Rohan is peopled by few. In truth, they are just what we need. My Men are weary and all have suffered greatly. I am glad to have them on our northern bound."

"So what now, my lord? The Dunlendings are dismissed and the invasion is o'er."

"Now I shall return to Hild with tidings of joy for Súthburg, and then I must send messages to my son in Edoras. I reckon there is a succession that demands attending to. For the first time, the line of Eorl is broken, but Rohan needs a king."

So it came to pass that, as Rohan's laws had no precedent for a ruling queen, the crown came to Fréaláf Hildeson, Helm's sister-son, and the second line began. Princess Heorte, having little interest in the crown, favored her cousin for the throne and supported him in his rule whilst enjoying her relationship with her beloved Shieldmaiden. She still could not abide Helluin's presence though, and so the Noldo stayed not in Edoras to witness the coronation, but rather began her journey back to Norðr-vestandóttir Bý with tidings. The twelve hundreds who had followed Captain Ælfwine north in the spring of 2758 could safely return home.

There was but one final meeting of moment for the Noldo in Edoras. She had ridden out of the gates on the very morn of the coronation and had not even passed the burial mounds when an embassy from Gondor approached the city. Thither was a representative of the steward, and beside him, one of the last people Helluin cared to encounter.

"Helluin, I am surprised to find thee hither," the one robed in white said, a calculating glint in his eye as he carefully regarded her. "Whyfor art thou in Rohan and poised to take thy leave on such a momentous day?"

"My Lord Curunír, I too am surprised to meet thee hither," she replied, hiding a grimace with a dip of her head. "I have offered my aid in war, but having earnt the ire of Princess Heorte Helmsdóttir, I am banishing myself ere the ceremonial functions become needlessly awkward."

"I see," he said, though Helluin was reasonably sure he did not. "I am come at the behest of Steward Beren to offer aid and counsel to the new king…and to safeguard by my tenancy, the citadel of Angrenost." It seemed he reveled silently in the look of shock on the Noldo's face.

"Then I pray thee be welcomed in Edoras and remain safe in Angrenost, my lord. It holds secrets still."

"Indeed it doth and I am looking forward to learning them all," the Wizard said, allowing himself the hint of a grin. "Pray be safe on thy road, Helluin."

"And thou, my lord," she turned Hildmearh and felt that she could not retreat fast enough. Of all the wretched possibilities…I just hope he leaves Eadric's folk be.

To Be Continued