This chapter is especially for Hawaiichick (ffnet)
Check out chapter 22 of Sons of Thunder where I've posted some new artwork from Spiced Wine. (It's perfect for that chapter!)
*This is told in More Dangerous, Less Wise -chapters 4-6.
*Saruman sends Legolas a vision in ch 13 of Songs of Rohan/Deeper than Breathing. The actual incident is described in The Battle Under The Trees. Ch 3-5.
Chapter 8
Hallvarðr smoothed the double-bitted blade, running a finger along the beard of one side and then the other. It was smooth, polished by grinding and the glossy metal still kept its secret pattern for he had yet to complete the etching by which the damascene would be revealed.
In the previous days, Hallvarðr had spent forging the bevels and cutting edges with the fain and mithril so they would never blunt or dent or shatter. Then he forged the pieces together into one beautiful double axe head. Sigrúnda assisted and the three apprentices had worked the bellows and furnace, cleaned the flux and then they had been put onto some of the other projects that were waiting to be completed. Minor projects. A dagger for a merchant, a couple of swords for Princes. There was still the gift commissioned by the King of Dale for the new King of Gondor but Hallvarðr intended that to be Sigrúnda for his masterpiece. A knife, he thought, for the Man already had a famous sword, inlaid with copper and gold wire, and the hilt of lapis lazuli. Hallvarðr would supervise it of course and it would bear his Maker's mark but Sigrúnda's would be beneath it. His first.
As he turned Rûk-Shtôl's blade over in his hands, searching for imperfections, he thought how sorry he would be to lose Sigrúnda as his journeyman; Sigrúnda's calm and patience was a good counter for Hallvarðr's own gruff nature. With a sudden pang of grief, he thought how Tharkîl would have been coming into his own now had he not been killed in the Siege. He would have been a new fire in the forge, he thought sadly. But his sacrifice would not be wasted, Hallvarðr resolved. He would honour the fallen with his work, with such pieces as Rûk-Shtôl. And every work would be in their honour. It was the Khazâd way.
Weighing the axe blade in his hand, he was felt its balance; a fraction more on either side of the double bit would have unbalanced it, but it was perfect. He squinted down at the invisible welds that joined together the blade with each of the bevels and cutting edges. Swiping it gently through the air, he listened to it sing. A pleased smile slid over his lips.
Rûk-Shtôl, he murmured as if to a lover. As he had murmured to Gilthrûn two nights ago, when she had taken his face in her elegant, clever hands, and her strong fingers had caressed his cheek, combed through his beard. She loved his beard. She had said so, he thought with a deep sigh. It had sent a shudder of desire spearing through his loins and when he had pressed his mouth against hers, ah! Mahal's hammer, he had wanted her.
She hadn't quite acquiesced yet.
Yet.
He closed his eyes and remembered the sensation of his hands on her smooth, cool skin, her muscles moving beneath, the swell of her breasts against him and her lips on his.
A sudden clatter dragged him from such happy memories, and loud voices alerted him to the approach of his apprentices. There was a scuffling and laughing, quickly stifled when they saw Hallvarðr. He turned to greet them, even smiling slightly as they clattered in and headed towards the forge, pulling their aprons on, tying back their hair, tucking their plaited beards into belts and so on. Sigrúnda appeared a little later and looking a little tired but happy.
Hallvarðr stroked his beard thoughtfully; he knew that Sigrúnda had a thing for one of the engineers, Brisingr Fríðrdottir. One of the promising engineers of her generation, they said. She had made the new mobile augers that meant miners could more easily move the great steel drills deeper into the shaft with them. It was impressive work and she had already been asked to help with the new Gates the King of Gondor had commissioned. By Gimli Gloinsson no less, in a letter that had arrived with the latest batch of messages from the South.
It would mean that Brisingr would be away in the South for many months of course and only now did Hallvarðr wonder if Sigrúnda would go with her.
'Master?' Sigrúnda gave him an almost shy look that completely confirmed Hallvarðr's suspicions. And there was a bruise on Sigrúnda's neck that was not from any forge work.
He raised an eyebrow at the journeyman who blushed and rubbed a hand over it self-consciously and Hallvarðr grinned at him. 'Well now, Sigrúnda,' he said cheerfully, deciding that he would have to have a talk with Sigrúnda and quickly. 'If you are not too tired today, we will etch the blade and see if all our scheming and forging and labour pays off.'
Of course it was not just a simple process they were undertaking; they had to treat the axe blade to harden it and strengthen it so it would not shatter or bend under pressure. There were four stages; annealing to remove the inner stresses in the steel formed during forging, normalising to increase its strength and resistance, then quenching it in mineral oil and water. Then it would need to be tempered and heated and held at the temperature for an hour. Then he would do the last grinding before etching it- his favourite part. But they should get to the etching by the end of the fourth day.
Hallvarðr glanced about to see his apprentices working on getting the furnace to absolutely the right temperature for keeping it there was crucial at this stage.
'Come then, lads,' called Sigrúnda cheerfully and the apprentices turned to him like well-trained hounds hearing the beloved master's voice. 'Forvi, prepare the quenching coolant please. Runí, we will need the grinders set up, the 40, 20 and 10 so we are grinding it progressively finer. Gûthrim, you worked hard yesterday and kept the furnace very well. Master Hallvarðr asks if you can do the same today?'
Gûthrim flushed deeply and such pride slipped over his face. He bowed and hurried off to fire up the furnace.
'Runí, you are to try making damascene yourself today,' said Sigrúnda. 'Choose one of the billets we discarded yesterday and then come and tell me why you have chosen it. Forvi will be helping you.' They looked as delighted as Gûthrim, and Hallvarðr considered the ease with which Sigrúnda lead his apprentices, the understanding he had of what motivated them and the kindness he showed them.
Hallvarðr tugged his beard into a forked plait and pushed it into his belt as the apprentices had.
Now it was all heat and noise and the whine of the grinding stone against Rûk-Shtôl. Sigrúnda worked the grinder and Hallvarðr turned the blade in his hands, holding it against the grindstone until the steel was polished and shining. He caught Sigrúnda's grin and returned it
Sigrúnda prepared the etching baths on the morning of the fourth day. Deep and wide enough for axes rather than the tall cylindrical sword baths. All the apprentices had done this many times and they watched surreptitiously and curiously for it seemed a menial task for Sigrúnda to do. He carefully measured out the ferric chloride on a bronze scales and then added it slowly to the demineralised water they kept for the process. Then he prepared the hydrochloric acid bath that would deepen the contrasts, adding iron perchloride to bring out the contrast. Finally he prepared the alkaline bath that they would plunge the blade into to neutralise the acid and stop the etching from eating away the blade more than they wished. He put a water basin next to the other basins.
With a sense of ceremony, Hallvarðr lowered the axe blade into the first bath for the etching. And they waited..
0o0o
In the etching bath, Rûk-Shtôl dreamed. Acid smoothed away the carbon, revealed the patterns of steel, blue fáinn and precious mithril. Three times he was lifted from the dreaming and three times, plunged back until the ripples of dark and light showed themselves on his gleaming blades.
In the hands of his Maker, he awoke but could not yet see. Cleaned and polished and ground by finest grit he was until he was strong, steel and blue steel and mithril strong. Indefatigable. Unbreakable. He was tested against wood, iron, hemp and silk. Against a hair.
And then there were amber cabochons brought Kheled-zâram, and two emeralds that glowed like the sunlight through deep pools. Rûk-Shtôl shivered as they were set in his sockets and he awoke fully.
Through muscle and bone I cut. Through steel and plate and iron. I guard fore and aft. I am the silent slide of steel. I am the fierce watch. The fierce gaze. I am the Braigtîr-Hend.
Rûk-Shtôl is my name.
0o0o
In the distance, the Old Ford was gleaming in the weak winter sunlight but thunderous clouds climbed heavily over the Hithaeglir and they could not see the mountains at all.
Arod veered away from the river now and towards the Hithaeglir and Gimli gave him a nudge with his heel that had him back on track again. 'Stop daydreaming,' he told Legolas. 'Yes, yes, Elrohir is there but we will be home within ten days if we make good time! Now if you want to rush off over the Misty Mountains and throw yourself into Elrohir's arms I will understand but I am going that way.' He threw his arm out towards the East and home.
Legolas stirred as if awakening and he tilted his head slightly back towards Gimli. 'What? Leave you out here in the in the Wild on your own, Khazâd velui?' he declared with a mischievous grin. 'What trouble you would find without me to keep you safe. No. I have promised to travel with you and that is exactly what I will do.'
Gimli saw the smile on his face and he felt Legolas' shoulders drop and his taut body relax a little. 'Come then. Let us hasten!'
And they were off, Gimli clinging like a bur and shouting, again, to stop and Legolas laughing.
It would not be true to say that Gimli enjoyed these occasional pell-mell hurtles over the grass, but he did not fear. Arod did not stumble and Legolas would never let him fall.
They had decided to take the Forest Road. Thorin's company had travelled through Beorn's lands and into the forest by the Elf Path, but that was a hundred miles north or more and the Road had been improved a little since the Dragon had gone and there was some trade now between Erebor and the West of the Mountains. Indeed, Gimli's company had taken this route to Rivendell themselves and although it had been a grim and miserable part of the journey, they had made it without much incident.
Only one spider attack.
Gimli shuddered at the memory of those huge arachnids with their clacking jaws and horrid stuttery movements. They had been so quick.
But Sauron was vanquished, the Nazgul gone and he was with a Woodelf. Gimli repositioned his belt more comfortably, checked his knives, roulettes and axe and determined that no Elf would best him in killing any spiders that were there for the killing.
Once through the marshes on the eastern side of the forest, they planned to part at Esgaroth. Gimli would easily find passage to Erebor and Legolas would take the paths to his home. But they had found talking of their final parting harder than they expected and did not dwell on it.
When they reached the ford, the water was deep and faster than they had expected for the autumn rains had swelled it and if they had been later again in the year, they could not have crossed it at all. As it was, Arod waded through and all three were soaked by the time they emerged from the river and stopped to build a fire and dry off before they set off into Mirkwood.
As they sat by the fire and roasted a couple of ducks that Legolas had brought down, Gimli talked about the last time he had come this way, with his father and Nori amongst others. That had been the journey to Rivendell to tell of the visit of the Nazgul to Erebor and its dark threat.
'Strange that we did not meet when we journeyed this way last, Legolas. I was in the company of my father of course. Did you travel alone?'
He listened with astonishment to Legolas' tale, of the unhappy coincidence of a rockfall that deprived him of companions, and the encounter with the Nazgul.*
'Of course now I know it was because Elrond had unhorsed them in the flood at the Bruinen,' Legolas said. 'But it was very frightening at the time.'
Gimli grunted.
'I did hear you up there, in the Mountains behind me somewhere,' Legolas continued. 'But I had no way of warning you or finding you.' He paused for a moment and then said, 'I would have liked the company.'
Gimli thought Legolas might have found them a bit surly and resentful for both Gloín and Nori had been part of Thorin's company and even now when relations with the Woodelves under Dain were good, his father and uncles were reluctant to change their views. He hoped they would feel differently when he told them of his and Legolas' friendship and was secretly relieved when Legolas had suggested they part at Esgaroth. He wondered if Legolas might have similar misgivings about his own father's reaction should he turn up with Gimli riding at his back.
'There is a settlement in a clearing close to the edge of the forest, where some of the Woodmen live,' said Legolas, throwing more kindling onto the fire. 'We should find it soon enough and can warn them of the Half Orcs. They will let Radagast and Beorn's people know too.'
They took it turns to watch as they had every night and in the marches during the day since they had met the Half Men-Orcs but the night was uneventful. The Moon was huge and round above them, turning everything silver and black. Gimli could not help but look at the dark line of trees that lurked ahead of him, it seemed almost sentient although he knew it was not. There was something shifting and aware in that darkness that was not like Fangorn, a reasonable tree, Ent, he corrected himself. No. He thought Mirkwood was sentient and unreasonable. Like Orcs.
It was well before dawn that Legolas awoke him and they set off. Gimli comforted himself with the warmth of Legolas before him and Arod beneath him, and Legolas sang softly under his breath as if to keep the trees friendly. Nevertheless, the soft thud of Arod's hoofs seemed loud in the silence and the trees leant over them as if listening. The dark canopy closed over them like a huge mouth, and Gimli could see nothing at all in front of him.
It was called a road but was only a track and in places, it could hardly be even called that. They had to dismount often to get beneath the overhanging branches and Gimli thought that the forest had encroached even in the year since he had travelled the path, as if the forest had resented their intrusion and sought to prevent further incursions.
'I wonder why the Woodmen have not kept the Road to their settlement clear,' he said once but Legolas had not answered.
As Gimli's eyes adjusted and he got his mine-sight, he could see a little way on either side a darkened green glimmer, like he was underground. Occasionally a slender beam of sunlight slipped through a gap in the canopy and stabbed through the twisted branches and gnarled boughs, thin and bright. But this was rare and soon, there was nothing. Black squirrels leapt through the trees now and again. There were noises too, grunts and scuffling far off in the darkness. A chittering like a swarm of insects sounded once, far off and Arod stopped and they all stared off into the darkness until it faded.
'There should be a stream soon, and it will become lighter,' said Legolas. 'The settlement is not far.' But he had said that often, as if he were reassuring himself. Or anxious.
Gimli blew out a breath, already he longed for the feel of the wind and sunlight.
But as they rode onwards, Legolas became even more tense and had become very still. Arod too sensed it and startled at something Gimli could not see
'What is it?' Gimli murmured, touching the knife in his belt and shifting his axe. When he breathed in, he felt a fine dust in the air. It caught in his throat and he coughed.
Ash. A fine ash floating in the air.
'Something is wrong.' Legolas said, peering into the darkness on either side. 'There is the smell of burning but it is not smoke from hearth fires, and it is too quiet. No birds. No animals. No sounds of people.' He leaned forward as if to peer through the gloom but Gimli knew well enough by now that he was listening for the Song of those who dwelt at the edge of the forest. 'We are almost at the settlement, so why has no one hailed us? And why can I hear nothing?'
Now Gimli could smell it too; not the cosy woodsmoke, but a tarry, charred wood.
'Is it those Half-Men?' Gimli whispered but Legolas shook his head.
'No. The trees do not speak of….that. I do not sense their presence. But of a defilement nonetheless.' He sighed. 'Burning and felling. Destruction.'
'There has been a fire,' Legolas said at last. 'But one that had ripped through the forest.' That explained the fine ash that floated in the air.
They passed a huge old pine tree that had been torn up by its roots and lay like a fallen giant across the road. Legolas put a hand on it as if in mourning as they passed around it, leaving the road as they did for they had no choice.
Legolas steered them unerringly back onto the road but he had become edgy and glanced about them often. 'Why have the Woodmen not cleared this tree?' he asked.
It seemed to grow lighter and in places the daylight streamed through, like there were holes in the canopy of the Wood. Soon Gimli could see trees fallen or toppled and some leaning against each other like old men grasping another to stop itself falling.
Suddenly it seemed as if they had come out of the forest and stood in a clearing until Gimli realised that it was more like a great storm had passed this way, like something mighty had hurled itself through the forest, uprooting a swathe of trees and leaving devastation in its wake.
'It looks like an army of mumakils have stampeded through the forest,' Gimli said quietly. 'Or some great thunderbolt has blasted its way through the forest.'
Legolas did not reply. Fire had rampaged through this part of the forest too. Even the fallen trees were blackened and charred and as they wound their way carefully through the devastation, they saw the fire had been more intense the closer they came to what had once been a settlement.
They came to a wide area where the trees had been incinerated and all that was left were charred stumps. The ground was covered in thick white ash. Amongst the ash were the burned out remains of stone houses or huts. The stone itself was blackened and the walls pulled down or fallen.
It was a bleak, unhappy place.
'What has happened here?' Gimli wondered softly. 'Fire and battle. Look, there is a great cairn or …pit.' He sighed heavily. 'There must have been battle here, Legolas, and this settlement destroyed by orcs. While we fought in the South, war marched upon our own lands, Legolas. I fear what we will find on our return.'
Legolas slid down from Arod, his feet sinking in the soft ash. 'It is as though nothing is left,' he said quietly. He leaned down suddenly and scooped something from the ground. It glittered between his fingers.
Legolas looked up at Gimli, shocked. 'This is my brother's,' he said, opening his hand. A fine chain was tangled in his fingers and a small oak leaf 'This is Laersul's.'
Gimli knew that Legolas had had one exactly the same for he had entrusted it to Gimli when Gandalf had asked Legolas to go on that dreadful ill-fated mission with Elrohir upon the Mindolluin and which had ended so dreadfully*. Gimli touched it lightly with his thick finger. The oak leaf charm was beautifully made and he saw that it was indeed the copy of Legolas'. Except that Legolas no longer wore his for he had given it to Elrohir as a token. And Gimli had not entirely approved of that either for he did not quite forgive Elrohir everything.
Legolas looked suddenly about the burned clearing and his mouth opened in shock. 'This is the place I saw in Saruman's vision, Gimli. This is where the yellow smoke was, where I thought… I thought it was my father… but it was Laersul.'*
Gimli stared around him. The trees that still stood were charred some of them and others still stood but looked as though some great beast had knocked them sideways. The ground had been churned and dried into great ruts.
Gimli turned to Legolas, remembering Saruman's words to the Elf: 'Do you not hear the cry of your Woods? It burns…It… burns. Nothing is left, only ash. No one is left, only bones. And yet…You… Are…Here.'
'Your brothers are slain or taken. And you know what fate awaits those taken in Mirkwood by Dol Guldur….'Mirkwood… bereft of its sons, bereft of its king…its standard broken, trodden into the mud. Oh, you should see what they have done in Mirkwood. You have abandoned her and now orcs rape the children of your dead warriors.'
' Legolas! Legolas! You know that your brothers and father are safe,' Gimli said quickly for he could see the shock in Legolas' eyes and remembered well how they had both been in agony waiting for news of their homes. 'Saruman lied! He said it was your father who was slain";' Gimli cried, reaching up to Legolas, to pull his face towards Gimli and away from the lies of Saruman. 'He showed you this place, yes. But neither your father nor your brother was killed. Your father wrote to you that your brother was injured but safe and well. Recovering. What was it he said?' Gimli frowned up at Legolas, wracking his brains for there had been a phrase.
Legolas nodded as if trying to convince himself. 'I have it here somewhere.' He pushed his hand inside his tunic to find the hidden pocket and pulled out a well-worn and crumpled letter.
'Yes. It is here,' he said at last and thrust it towards Gimli as if he could not trust himself to read it, needed Gimli's voice to ground him.
'Ah, yes, Here it is,' Gimli stabbed his finger down at the letter ad read, '…But I know you will want news of your brothers, my heart. Thalos is safe, or at least he leads the last skirmishes in the South and I have heard no different. And Laersul was injured in the assault upon Dol Guldur and had to be returned home. He has awoken now but has no memory of the attack. Galion says he has not been so grumpy since he was a small child and lost his toy mumakîl.'
Legolas nodded stupidly and then smiled. He breathed deeply and then placed a hand upon Gimli's broad shoulder, and looked down as if he did not see the ground in front of him but saw something else. He laughed suddenly. 'I cannot imagine Laersul every being grumpy about anything. He is the most patient, kindest…you cannot imagine how annoying I was as a child.'
Gimli grasped Legolas' hand in his and squeezed gently. 'I have an idea,' he said very kindly. He patted Legolas' hand and said, 'Well now, let us return this charm to him. I am quite sure he will be glad to have it back. He must have lost this when he was fighting.' He gazed around at the huge fallen trees, the blackened walls of the little huts. 'I wonder where Saruman is now. My heart rues that Treebeard let him go. He could even now be making some mischief and I cannot think he will be content to be a mere pilgrim.'
'Let us hope he has not found a place in either of our homes,' Legolas agreed. He laid a hand upon the great trunk of a fallen tree as if bidding farewell to it. 'Thranduil would not let him in of that I am certain. He is more likely to make his way West I think than to our lands.'
'I hope he has not found his way The Shire for he will wreak havoc on those good and kindly folk.'
Legolas too was quiet then and they filled their waterskins further upstream where the water was unspoiled by the ash and gathered some forage for Arod. But they did not camp in the clearing and even Gimli was relieved to be beneath the trees again and to leave that awful place behind.
'We cannot get word now to Beorn's folk either. I wish that we had taken the Elf Path,' Legolas sighed.
'But we would not have found this token to return to your brother had we not,' said Gimli quickly. 'And your father will send warning to them?'
'Yes,' replied Legolas. 'And I am sure he will want to send a force to help the Beornings rid the Gladden Fields of that nest.'
They walked alongside Arod for the road had vanished in the ruin and trees were tangled and fallen and the Road lost. But Gimli could see the sky in places and was relieved that the darkness was more like twilight now than the pitch black of earlier.
Legolas was quiet but suddenly he said, 'Look how the grass grows now and there are already saplings pushing through the soil and ash. The forest is already recovering!' His voice was lighter and Gimli, looking down from Arod, saw that there were small yellow flowers growing on long stalks like little golden stars.
But Arod snatched hungrily at the yellow flowers as he passed and munched on them cheerfully.
Gradual they left the devastation behind them and the trees closed in again. It felt to Gimli like a heavy green silence had surged softly over them, like they were immersed in a sea. Occasionally a breeze rippled through the leaves high above but they only heard it for the wind did not penetrate the dense canopy. It became darker again too and the road was more like an animal track through the forest. They could not ride and walked in single file. Gimli felt suffocated by the stillness and the darkness was heavy, almost tangible.
Legolas said that he would take all the watches and let Gimli sleep, for which he was grateful. Legolas insisted too that they would light no fire and there was nothing to hunt or forage for either for themselves or Arod. The lembas they had been given by Galadriel, they would give to Arod when the forage ran out for there was no grass and the pine trees yielded nothing anyone or anything could eat but the black squirrel. And spiders that must eat the black squirrel, thought Gimli darkly. It was as if the forest begrudged all things that walked on legs, thought Gimli. To comfort himself, he pretended he was in a cave instead of a forest. But it didn't work.
Legolas suddenly reached up and leapt into the trees. There was a rustling and shaking of leaves and he disappeared but Gimli had become so used to it that he barely blinked. A pinecone hit him on the head and he sighed heavily, but his own heart was eased that Legolas had stopped brooding on the destruction they had found.
'Legolas? Are all the spiders gone?' he whispered suddenly.
Something dropped right in front of him and he almost screamed and his axe was in his hands before he could think. Legolas, used to this now, had already leapt out of reach and laughed annoyingly. 'Of course not.'
It was hardly a comfort.
'They have colonies all over the Wood.' The Elf continued, 'but there are none here. I have been ahead and checked. We are safe. We only have about a hundred and twenty miles to go,' he said with irritating cheerfulness.
Gimli lost all track of hours, days and only if he asked Legolas did he have any sense that they were actually moving forwards.
But at last, they did come to the edge of the forest and emerged into the rain washed marshes. Weak winter sunlight gleamed on the flat water and the sky reached all around. Gimli almost cheered. Arod let his head fall to the grass and tore the long grass hungrily although Gimli thought he looked quite fat with all the lembas he had eaten.
And there, in the distance swathed in mist, reared the Lonely Mountain.
Erebor.
Home.
0o0o
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