Chapter 12: The Storm Breaks
It was the coldest day in a string of frigid days when word of the orcs was finally received. The men had trained as long as they could before retreating to the hearths in their own homes. Galadriel sat before the brazier in the palace, listening to an update on their winter stores with Halbrand when the door swung open abruptly. A lone man, dirty and exhausted, stumbled into the hall.
Tindómëon strode forward from his place behind Halbrand's left shoulder. "What is your business before Halbrand, King of the Southlands?"
"Orcs," the man gasped out. His eyes were wide and fixed on Halbrand, seemingly unaware of the others in the room. "Our scouts found them. An army."
Galadriel and Halbrand both stood, exchanging worried glances before refocusing on the anguished man before them. Halbrand stepped forward, speaking in a reassuring but firm voice. "You are one of the woodsmen are you not? We will do what we can to help you, but I need to know everything you can tell me. How long ago did you find them? How far from your camp were they?"
The man straightened and continued speaking, his voice stronger now that he'd received reassurance of aid. "The main body of the army was spotted four days ago now, two days march north of our camp. I was sent to you with all haste while the rest of my people took what they could carry and moved south toward your city. You once told us that we could retreat behind the walls of your fortress in the mountains if we had need. That need is upon us now.
"I don't know if they arrived. With women and children, the orcs may have overtaken them by now."
Galadriel turned to Halbrand. "We must ready the army, but we may not reach them in time. Allow me to lead an advance party of our best and fastest soldiers to protect the retreating woodsmen. We can rejoin the main force before confronting the Uruk army."
Halbrand looked at her for a moment before turning to Tindómëon. "Have someone fetch Ontamo. We will need him shortly." He refocused on their guest. "Come, I have a map here. Can you show me approximately where you are camped as well as the route your kin will take to our stronghold?"
The man stumbled forward. "We do not have maps like these, but we saw the orcish army just below the curve of the mountains, right along their base. Our camp was further into the forest, maybe here." He pointed to a point about two days' march north of the road between the two Southlander cities. "If they were able to leave within a day of the warning, they may have already arrived."
Galadriel frowned. "They would have had a day's head start, yes, but orcs can march through the night when they choose to. If they knew you'd seen them, they could easily make up a day on your people." She studied the map carefully before pointing to a small section of forest just north of the meadows leading to the fortress. "I think if the orcs caught up, it would be around here. This is where the advance party should go. A messenger should travel with us to ensure Isildur is aware of our actions as well."
She met Halbrand's eye. His brow was furrowed as he watched her, but he nodded slowly. "I believe you're right. When Ontamo arrives, please work with him to determine who will be among each party. The advanced group must leave as soon as possible. In the meantime," he turned back to their guest. "You are exhausted and must rest. The barracks are next door. Someone will find some food and a blanket for you. You are free to stay here or travel with my army."
The man thanked them profusely before taking his leave. The hall was silent after the door swung shut behind him.
"You truly wish to ride to the aid of the woodsmen?"
Galadriel looked at her companion in surprise. "I would not leave them to the orcs. Surely you would not either?"
Halbrand smiled thinly. "Of course not. I meant as leader of the advanced party. I know you have no love of the woodsmen. They are the embodiment of all that elves distrust in men."
Galadriel stilled, eyes fixed on the table before her. "You are right, of course, but I would not leave any of the Secondborn to the wiles of the servants of Morgoth. Moreover, many of our men have never seen battle, especially with orcs. I have more experience than all of them combined."
When she met Halbrand's eyes again, she found him smirking lightly at her. "And perhaps your fingers itch as they grip your scabbard." His face became serious again. "If this is Adar's attempt to wipe out the Men of the South for good, I fear there will be enough combat to satisfy you for another age of Middle Earth."
The door swung open again, a frigid gust ushering Ontamo and Tindómëon into the hall. Halbrand looked back at Galadriel once more before turning to the newcomers. "The time for war is upon us. The orcs have left the Black Land and are threatening our allies in the forest. The men are fleeing south, but they may not be able to outpace their enemies.
"General Galadriel will take a dozen of the best and fastest soldiers as an advance force to aid the woodsmen. They leave within the hour. Meanwhile, Ontamo, you and I will gather the rest of our forces and follow behind them. Galadriel, your goal is to get the woodsmen to safety. Once that is accomplished, the secondary goal is to support the garrison and ensure they can hold out until I arrive. If you can avoid confrontation with the enemy, do."
Galadriel nodded grimly.
"Ontamo, Galadriel, decide who to send in the advanced force and send them word. The sooner they are able to leave, the better."
After a quick conference, messengers were sent out to the selected soldiers. Ontamo bid farewell to Galadriel and left the hall to begin preparations for the full army. Galadriel retreated to her small room in the living quarters behind the hall. Even after calling it home for so long, the room was spartan. A narrow cot and rough-hewn trunk were all the furnishings she required.
"I meant what I said. Don't pick a fight before we arrive if you can help it."
Galadriel turned from her half-full pack and glanced at Halbrand in the doorway. She lifted her brow incredulously. "You need not repeat your orders to me. The advanced team is small. We cannot contend with an army of orcs alone."
He hummed softly but did not answer, still watching her. She huffed in response. "I am not so mercurial as you seem to believe. I walked these lands before a sun shone on them you know."
Halbrand's face broke into a soft smile. "Forgive me if I am not swayed by that argument. Remembering the birth of the sun is hardly a standard for maturity, at least amongst present company."
Galadriel laughed quietly as she finished packing. Finally, she turned back to him, holding the saddlebag tightly. "I must await the other members of the team. If the Valar wills, we will see you in a few days."
Halbrand reached out and gently pressed her hand. "Be careful, for your own sake as well as that of your men."
They shared a small smile before Galadriel strode from the room and out to collect her men.
xXxXx
Galadriel had calculated the most likely spot for the orcs to catch up with the fleeing woodsmen. With a small, lightly outfitted force on horseback, they were able to reach the spot after two days' travel.
The lingering drifts of snow under sun-soaked trees were pristine, betrayed no sign that man or orc had passed that way. After seeing off the messenger to Isildur, Galadriel turned her horse north and led her men toward the woodsmen's original camp. They traveled slower now and as quietly as they could manage, eying the ground beneath them for any sign of travel.
Fiery streaks painted the winter sky when Galadriel spotted a clearing up ahead. She gestured for quiet and dismounted, stealing toward the gap in the trees. A sick feeling grew within her as she caught the stench of death.
The woodsmen had evidently been caught while making camp one night. Tents stood or lay crumpled in the slush while the long cold ashes of campfires stood out like festering sores. Throughout it all was blood. Blood staining leather and cloth, snow and soil. The once ruby rivulets had darkened to nearly black and painted the campsite like ink connecting the corpses that littered the clearing.
"General, what are your orders?" Alwena called from behind her, voice strangely unsteady.
Galadriel stared at the nearest body: a child, no more than five or six years old. Steps behind it lay the body of a woman, clearly cut down from behind while reaching for the child.
She tore her gaze from the carnage and back to her small force. Even the oldest of the men appeared shaken by the scene before them and the youngest were pale as death.
The woodsmen had seemed so fierce and so different from the Southlanders that she'd grown to care for. They had existed as a separate entity in her mind. When had the race of men fractured from a monolith? When had men become Men of Númenor and Men of the South and Woodsmen?
As she looked between the broken bodies at her feet and the faces of her men, she was struck suddenly with the realization that they were all much alike. That young woman could have been Cerys or Alwena. The men lying in state beneath the trees were no different than the friends she had made among her adopted people.
The burn in her eyes was familiar, but never had she shed a tear for men in all her long life.
"General?" Alwena's voice, even more unsure now, cut through Galadriel's thoughts.
"We must bring news of this tragedy to the king. The orcs were here but they did not continue moving south after the fight. We know not where they are nor what their next move may be. All of this puts us at a disadvantage.
"We must go to the fort and bring them word of the woodsmen's fate. They do not have the garrison to fight off an army of orcs if attacked in stealth. With our forewarning and support, they may hold out.
"However," she continued, seeing Alwena move to speak. "Someone must rejoin the main force. Halbrand could be walking into an ambush. Adar will remember Halbrand from his captivity before the destruction of the mountain and may hold a grudge."
"My lady, what do you propose?" Alwena's already pale face now matched the fallen snow.
"You will lead the men to the fort. Tell Lord Isildur all that you have seen here. Follow the route by which we arrived and travel as quietly as you can. We were never equipped to deal with an army of orcs alone, and that is even more true now."
All the men were listening to her, eyes wide and hands shaking. Alwena wetted her lips, eyes darting, before refocusing on Galadriel. "And you, my lady?"
Galadriel forced what she hoped was a comforting smile. "I must bring word to the king. Do not be alarmed. I cannot defeat an army of orcs alone, but I can evade one. Unless the orcs turned north again after this massacre, they should lie between us and the army. I have the best chance of reaching them."
Alwena nodded slowly but looked comforted. "Indeed, General. We will not let you down."
Galadriel felt true warmth suffuse her strained smile. "I know you will not. Now ride, all of you. Time is of the essence."
The men mounted and took off as quickly as possible while minimizing their noise. Alwena looked back only once, saluting Galadriel grimly before she led the others forward and into the trees.
As Galadriel watched them, she was reminded suddenly of a different band. Elves, her companions, draped in heavy wool and dusted with powdered white as they trudged through the empty caves at the edge of the world. Looking back, perhaps she had let them down. Vengeance had drawn her across mountains and deserts, but they had not chosen such a path. She had protected them whenever possible, but what decision had she ever made in pursuit of their health or happiness? Not one until they turned their backs and forced her to follow them home.
Shaking herself from her reverie, Galadriel frowned back at the ruined camp. She was going to travel back to Halbrand, using all her skill if necessary to avoid the Uruk army. However, that was not her first goal.
Galadriel began picking her way through the destruction, senses alert for any sign of life. Some of the woodsmen had clearly raised the alarm before the attack as the corpses suggested both fight and flight. Seeing small footprints leading into the underbrush, Galadriel smiled wearily.
Now that she had ensured the immediate survival of her own troops, she could turn her attention to rescuing any survivors from the camp.
Galadriel glanced once at the adamant ring on her finger. She had spent weeks with Halbrand honing her connection to this forest with its magic. It was time to put that power to the test.