Narn Gil-galad by Earonn

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Chapter 8: The Battle of Tumhalad

 

Curtsy: to my beta-reader Nemis the Great (not to be confused with Gonzo the Great!) with thanks for all the nice things for my birthday, especially Maglor the Singing Hamster!

Dedicated? To Ute, who told me extremely good news! *gives you another bottle of surprisingly expensive red Kiwi wine*

A/N

vorondis: I'm glad to hear that you find the character of my Gil Galad understandable, since this point is very important to me. And of course his relationship with Finduilas will affect his later life. To what extent...well, we'll see.

Usually I don't like Gaius Iulius Caesar, neither as a person nor as a politician. I prefer his political opponent Marcus Porcius Cato Uticensis. Nevertheless I owe Caesar thanks, since I used his crossing of the Rhine as an inspiration for Celebrimbor.

Due to the difficulties in destroying a whole army, for my description of Tumhalad the battle of Idistaviso, fought between Germanicus and Arminius 16 A.D. north-west of the German river Weser, has exemplified.

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VIII The Battle of Tumhalad

During Helegethir's and Gil Galad's absence two elves arrived in Nargothrond calling themselves Gelmir and Arminas. They claimed to be of Angrod's people, but the king did not acknowledge them, neither did anyone else of the council.

After the Dagor Bragollach, so they told, they had lived with Círdan and his people and fled together with the Falathrim to Balar when the orcs destroyed Brithombar and Eglarest. And that it had been Círdan himself who now sent them to Nargothrond, since he had received a warning from Ulmo, Lord of Waters.

"Hear then the words of the Lord of Waters!," Gelmir said gravely. "Thus he spoke to Círdan the Shipwright: "The Evil of the North has defiled the springs of Sirion, and my power withdraws from the fingers of the flowing waters. But a worse thing is yet to come forth. Say therefore to the Lord of Nargothrond: Shut the doors of the fortress and go not abroad. Cast the stones of your pride into the loud river, that the creeping evil may not find the gate."(1)

All were startled at these foreboding words, but Túrin spoke harshly and scornfully with the two elves from Balar, loathing the idea his bridge, which was built over the Narog mainly at his insistence, could be destroyed again. And he deemed both the message and the messengers worthless, for never had he had much reverie for the Valar nor did he rely on their power. (2)

Also his respect towards Círdan was small, in spite of all the struggles with the orcs in the western part of Beleriand in which the Falathrim had allied with the elves of Nargothrond. In Túrin's opinion the old elf was cowardly hiding on Balar. Though Gwindor had told him about the one hope of the Eldar, the young Adan did not understand the importance of a safe haven. He only understood the honour of brave battle and proud resistance.

More he said in this manner, things that did not prove him wise. And worst of all, he openly named Arminas a runagate (3) and practically threw them out of the realm, thus breaking all rules of hospitality.

Gwindor was outraged at Túrin's behaviour, but as he uttered his disapproval, the Adan scornfully looked at him.

"Not everyone bearing your brother's name also speaks his mind, Gwindor son of Guilin. Behold that your judgement is not clouded by memories of the past."(4)

Appalled the elf stiffened and not for the first time he was in doubt if he had done his home good by leading Túrin thither.

So the two elves returned to Círdan from their fruitless journey to the stronghold beneath the High Faroth. And they were equally astonished and offended by the unkind treatment they had suffered in Nargothrond, the more by an Adan and apparently with consent of the king.

They were, however, honourable men and told no one about what had happened, except the Shipwright himself.

Círdan could not understand why Orodreth, whom he knew as a wise, cautious man, should not heed the words of a Vala. He feared the doom of the Noldor at work, a disastrous destiny hovering over the elves of Nargothrond, written in the Music of the Ainur and not to be changed or avoided.

Before they left, Orodreth asked the messengers of Círdan if they knew anything about Helegethir's relatives. He knew his wife would be anxious to hear any tidings from her kin. But none of the two could tell him whether or not the family had survived the destruction of the harbours. In the end he wrote them a letter, unknowing if there was anyone alive who could receive it.

When Gil Galad after his return heard about Túrin's behaviour towards the messengers from Balar, he instantly called on the Man and Túrin nearly shrank back before the sharp disapproval in the elf's dark grey eyes.

"You were wrong to treat them in such an unworthy manner, let alone send them away on your own judgement. This is the king's hall, and even though you are high in our esteem, to grant or withhold stay is his decision alone!"

Túrin straightened his back and with a fierce movement threw back his black hair over his shoulder.

"You can't possibly agree with them! Do you really want us to hide and cower in caves as it was custom in past times?"

Nearly instantly he regretted his words, but over the years he had become too proud to take them back now.

For a while Gil Galad silently looked over him.

"Why do you speak so, Túrin?" he finally asked in a low, steady voice. "Why do you try to hurt me? What has happened to make you close your heart towards us?

"For hundreds of years Círdan has been our ally. Even though in these days news is seldom exchanged between Balar and Nargothrond, his advice always has proved wise. Ulmo speaks to him and the friendship of the Lord of Waters has been an advantage for his people as well as for ours. His bond with the House of Finarfin has already existed longer than your folk lives here in the west. What right do you have to spurn his messengers? They are honourable men who fought bravely at the side of Angrod and Aegnor, long before you were born." He made a short pause and when he went on, his voice was sharp and cold.

"And this I tell you, Túrin son of Húrin: I had to witness Celegorm and Curufin undermine the king's authority and abuse our people for their own desires. I will never allow this happen again!"

With this spoken he turned and left, not paying any attention to the Adan's reaction.

Túrin was shocked. Never before Orodreth's son had spoken to him in such an unfriendly way and his heart was not yet so hardened to take this break in their friendship easily.

Gil Galad, however, came to his father to discuss the message Círdan had sent.

The gloomy words caused a serious foreboding in his heart. Since his earliest childhood he had heard too much about the Valar and their powers from his father and other relatives to ignore their words easily.

"And what are we to do now about this bridge?" the younger elf finally asked.

Orodreth gave him an odd glance. "Isn't that obvious? The bridge will stay; it has been of great benefit to us."

Gil Galad shifted his weight with unease.

"Father, you know my opinion about it, and you already rejected it. But you also know Círdan, better than I do, he would never give us an airy warning! Why should we now of all times dismiss his advice?"

"My son, apparently your confidence in Nargothrond's soldiers is very small. If the enemy comes – provided he finds us – the bridge could be easily defended."

With a sudden movement Gil Galad turned away from his father, struggling for composure. A shiver ran through his body at an old, horrible memory.

"As we could at Tol Sirion?" he eventually asked over his shoulder. "What are you to do if Sauron appears before the gates anew?"

Orodreth approached the younger elf and gently laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know, 'Ellach. But ever we have lived in danger and bridge or not, we are not invincible and never will be."

Gil Galad lowered his eyes and nodded in approval. Then he turned back to the king, but his gaze was still fixed down on his folded hands.

"I fear for our people. They always lived in danger, that's right, but to ignore this warning….it means to tempt fate itself."

Orodreth wistfully smiled and affectionately caressed his son's cheek, then placed a hand under his chin and lifted it to look in his eyes.

"Why are you telling me, who has seen the Valar and the wonders of Valinor and the horror of the Helcaraxë himself? Since the death of the Two Trees and of our King Finwë the Noldor never did anything else but challenge their fate. Finellach, we do not understand the Music of the Ainur, we cannot see the ways of Arda. All we can do is try to make the correct choices."

Gil Galad sighed. "I know, father, I know." He took Orodreth's hand and gently squeezed it.

"Nonetheless I wished your decision would have been different."

"But it has not. And now I can't revoke it without losing face before our people. Nor do I see any necessity to do so."

With an almost pleading expression the younger elf looked at his king. "Then at least send those who cannot fight to Balar where they will be safe."

Orodreth raised a brow. "And who would be willing to go? Do you think your mother or your sister would leave us, regardless of their position in the realm? Which mother would leave her son, which woman her beloved in the peril?

"Besides, Círdan could not feed so many. Balar is a large island, but its acres are not sufficient to provide so many. Even now the Falathrim depend on trade. No, 'Ellach, the people of Nargothrond have to stay together, and will do so. To the bitter end, if necessary."

In the autumn of the next year Morgoth had finally finished his plans and he sent Glaurung, father of dragons, across the Anfauglith to the South.

The beast came through the pass of Sirion, along the slopes of the Ered Wethrin. Thus he reached the fair pool of Ivrin, and he tainted and ruined its beauty. Then he crossed the Talath Dirnen, accompanied by a great host of orcs. Together they destroyed everything on their way.

The elves of Nargothrond soon realized that this danger could not be averted by mere patrols along their borders. The army of orcs and especially the dragon had to be prevented from further advance to the South.

So Orodreth mustered all his soldiers, and indeed it was a mighty and impressive host. Many great and noble warriors assembled in the stronghold and never before the power of Nargothrond had been as distinct as in this hour.

Nonetheless they were worried. More than a few among them remembered Glaurung's part in the Dagor Bragollach and that it had not been elves but dwarves, who in the end drove him away.

These were the dwarves of Belegost under leadership of Azaghâl. They alone had been able to withstand the dragon's fire and though Azaghâl was killed in the fight, he even wounded Glaurung and his deed was highly regarded among Dwarves, Men and Elves.

But this time there was no army of dwarves, only one of their huge gilded masks, which had enabled them to stand the fire and somehow had found its way into the armoury of Nargothrond. In these days it was sometimes used by Túrin, and the terrible sight filled his enemies with dread.

Painful was the parting between Finduilas and the men she loved. She feared for them and cried bitter tears.

"My heart is heavy," she said, "for I do not know if I will ever see you again. The path to Mandos' Halls we're not allowed to take and the fate of the Secondborn is altogether unknown."

With these words she stepped forward and kissed each of them with wet, trembling lips on the forehead. And this was the only time she revealed her love to Túrin.

Then the host set out, proudly bearing the banners of Finrod and Finarfin, harp and flower. Túrin and Orodreth rode in front and the hearts of the soldiers were filled with valour when they saw their lord and the son of the Edain riding side by side. And they sang as they went into battle.

Gil Galad, however, kept at the end of the host, since he did not feel as confident of victory as most of the others by far. He was not in the mood for songs of war and did not consider himself a fitting image of a leader in his present pensive state.

Gwindor, Celebrimbor and even the usually cheerful Gildor Inglorion rode near to him, each lost in their own thoughts and glad for the company of friends who felt alike.

Slowly the king's son rode over the bridge on his dapple-grey horse. Reaching the other side of the Narog he turned, propped one hand on his horse's croup and cast a farewell-glance at his home.

The sun just had risen high enough over the High Faroth to let her rays touch the gates of Nargothrond. The fair sandstone above and beside the doors shone orange-red, the sight of it almost painful in its beauty.

Helegethir and Finduilas stood side by side, both shielding their eyes with one hand, and like the stone they were gilded by the morning light.

Gil Galad spurned his horse to follow his friends. But until the path bent and the two women were out of sight he often looked back to his sister and his mother in order to take their image with him – to battle and, if it was to be, into the Halls of Mandos.

The host of Nargothrond followed the stream of the Narog to the North and then turned westwards to the Crossings of Teiglin. The closer they came to the enemy, the less was spoken and the more determined their hearts became.

Some leagues east of the Narog the armies collided. The elves fought bravely and in the beginning they even managed to push back the orcs in the direction of the Crossings. Even Glaurung the dragon withdrew before them.

But this retreat was nothing but a trap. Months ago already Morgoth had sent out many orcs against the folk of the Edain in Brethil and expelled them from their homes. Thereafter the orcs had occupied Talath Dirnen, lest any news of this attack reach the western realms.

Now in the forest a second host awaited the elves, nearly as numerous as those who openly came with the dragon.

Orodreth led his warriors to the east, chasing the enemies towards the Crossings and many of them were killed in their retreat. And while in the north the battle went on favourably for Nargothrond, some leagues southwards the second orc-army left Brethil over bridges built across the ravines of Teiglin with great difficulty. So coming from the south they barred the elves' way back to their home.

When he realized that not only there were more enemies than expected, but also a great host was to encircle them, Orodreth instantly ordered retreat. They had no choice but to go directly westwards, but there, he knew, sooner or later they would have to take on the hostile army with the Narog behind them. Without any possibility for further retreat to the west they soon would be locked between the river and the orcs.

Therefore the king sent a part of his host under leadership of Celebrimbor ahead, all who possessed knowledge in house building or scaffolding. They should erect a makeshift bridge over the Narog to allow the army to cross the river if the need should arise – and the king did not doubt it would.

Orodreth had no illusions about that: the enemies would not leave them but utterly destroyed. They were out for Nargothrond and the last thing the orcs needed while plundering the stronghold was a living elven army in their back.

And for the Valar's Grace he hoped Morgoth would be still ignorant about the location of the dwelling at the Narog.

But the Great Enemy had already for a long time been sending out his spies to pick up trails of the border guards, had ordered many orc-attacks, had sacrificed hundreds of his orcs, and thus little by little gained knowledge of Nargothrond. Presently he did not know its exact position, but he did know it well enough.

After riding half a day as fast as they could without overstraining their horses, Celebrimbor and his men arrived at the Narog. The river wasn't very broad at this place, but deep and its current strong.

Celebrimbor instantly ordered the elves to cut down trees. Of the trunks he made posts which he tied deep in the sands of the river, one upstream and one downstream at a time, inclined to each other. These pairs he connected with bars, and the twigs and branches he used to build a makeshift way over the scaffold.

Driven by the orcs and the dragon the remnants of the elven host fled westwards, defending every inch of ground, until they reached the Narog. Now two broad wooden bridges arched over the river, tentative but answering their purposes. These they crossed in haste, defended by their rearguard under heavy losses, and when all of them had reached the other bank they destroyed the bridges behind them as much as was possible with countless arrows whirring around them.

Now with the river between the two armies they hoped to gain some safety and rest.

But Ulmo had not spoken idle words, his power had withdrawn from the waters and the orcs came in masses over the Narog. They clung on the rests of the bridges, building upon them their own crossovers, and as many of them were swept along by the flood and drowned, ever more came and took their places. Like ants they defeated the river by their almost uncountable number.

At least it gave the elves time enough to form up their ranks anew and retreat up to the bend of the Ginglith as Orodreth had planned, thus barring the orcs from the way to the south. And now noon had come and the elves could fight with the sun in their back while the orcs, usually avoiding it at all, had to stare into Anar's blinding light.

Between Ginglith and Narog to their left and right the elves stood in silence and awaited their opponents. Wind came up and stroked through neatly braided, smooth fair and dark hair, caressed ageless cheeks and let the banners flutter. Keen eyes were set straight ahead, with expressions serious and firm, and slender but strong hands held swords and shields, axes and bows. Tension spread across the field.

Then with great tumult the orcs ran forward and Orodreth signalled the flanks to advance. The battle of Tumhalad had begun.

It was long and fierce. The elves fought bitterly, for they knew Nargothrond would fall should the orcs reach their home.

Túrin stood at the right eastern flank where Glaurung crawled forward, slowly but unstoppable, while Orodreth with the main part of his army held back the proceeding of orcs in the middle. His son the king had commanded to the left flank, where the river Ginglith bent towards the East ere it discharged into the Narog and where the ground was wet and muddy.

And it would have been impossible to say which position was the most dangerous or the most tedious to defend.

But the horses of the elves had not been able to cross the unstable bridges, while this was no problem for the wargs. So Túrin and Gil Galad were up against a cavalry of many fast, wolf-like creatures carrying orcs on their backs.

In the middle of the battlefield Orodreth successfully defended his position and in spite of their exceeding number he even forced the orcs to retreat. But the flanks of the elven host slowly faltered under the continuing attack of the mobile wargs with their armed riders. Many of the elves fell in that moment, but the son of the king and the Adan could prevent their fronts from completely breaking down. Therefore the enemies could not come along the rivers to the back of the elven army as they had planned.

Celebrimbor used a short interruption in the orcs' attack to pause for a moment and swept away the sweat from his forehead. It came to no end, the orcs just didn't diminish. The elves possessed the greater warrior skills, but they were exceeded in number by far and the support of the wargs made up for the orc's disadvantage.

Still they now retreated, to the north-east and their own main host.

All the same the son of Curufin did not for a moment have only the slightest hope the battle would end. Why they behaved this way he did not know, but they would return, that much was certain.

From the little hill on which a scattered part of the left flank was standing he made a few steps downward. To the West and the South he could see the waters of the Ginglith glitter in the autumnal sun. Behind the river was Nargothrond, the home which he would gladly have sacrificed his life for to defend.

At this thought the master smith felt new determination; he threw back some loose braids of his hair and with closed eyes turned his face into the pale sun. Most likely today would be the last chance for a long time to feel its rays on his skin.

The outcry of many made him spun around and he ran back to the top of the hill. The elves standing there, among them Gildor and Gil Galad, stared to the even land before them, where the hill declined in a gentle slope towards the plain.

Gasping Celebrimbor stopped beside the others and he cursed on hammer and anvil as he saw what was happening there.

Either the main part of the elven army had advanced too far or the flanks had finally broken down completely. Anyway, Orodreth found himself surrounded on three sides by the enemy. The ranks of the elves began to falter.

Celebrimbor looked around, but around him were only a handful of soldiers, too few for an effective support of their king. Túrin tried to lead his men to the centre, but they were besieged by the dragon, who now was too old, too well-armoured and too clever to be seriously wounded. Only Túrin himself, protected by his dwarf-mask, could openly withstand Glaurung's attack.

The few elves on the hill had to witness helplessly how the orcs fought their way through the ranks of the elven warriors, how the complete host of Nargothrond practically melted away under their attack.

Though they knew what would happen, it hit them with a shock when the cruel creatures reached that spot where the banners of Finrod and Finarfin proudly fluttered in the breeze and where Orodreth and his guard desperately tried to free themselves from the encirclement.

And as the banner fell, as they had to watch their king die fighting in the first rank, it was Celebrimbor who saved Gil Galad's life. For he foresaw his younger cousin's reaction and swiftly approached him. So that just as Gil Galad tried to storm down the hill, in a futile attempt to help his father, which only would have led to his own certain death, Celebrimbor grabbed his upper arm and pulled him back

"Stop it!" he cried. "You can't help him anymore!"

"He is my father!" Gil Galad answered and furiously tried to free his arm from Celebrimbor's grasp. Curufin's son seldom had been so glad about his greater strength.

"Yes, and I know what it means to lose one's father," he said hoarsely. "But killing yourself will rescue neither him nor Nargothrond. You are now responsible for our people, Gil Galad, do you understand me? Remember what happened to Gwindor in the Nirnaeth!"

They looked at each other, both breathing heavily, and after a while the younger elf relaxed his muscles with a deep sigh.

"Yes. Yes, I understand you, Celebrimbor." Once again he looked down to the plain, where in the meantime the piteous remnant of the host of Nargothrond was literally slaughtered. Then he turned away, let his eyes wander over the wide plain and wholly realized the disaster of Tumhalad.

The autumnal sky was clouded, the sun now nothing more than a bright spot at the sky. Suddenly the land seemed wide and empty and, in spite of the clamour of war, quiet to Gil Galad. He looked into the distance, felt the breeze on his skin and its tugging at his hair. The emptiness was everywhere, around his body and in his mind.

Somewhere, somehow the fëa of his father was out there. All what had meant Orodreth son of Angrod of the House of Finarfin in this moment waited there for the summons which would lead him back to the West and to the Halls of Waiting.

His father was gone and a part of Gil Galad was lost with him in the emptiness, expanse and silence of Tumhalad.

And when he returned after these few moments of mental absence, his grey eyes were hard and determined.

"We have to return to Nargothrond instantly." He gestured towards the North and the East, where the battle gradually ceased. "There are far too few orcs, barely more than half of the host which followed us over the river. They don't care for us anymore; they know very well we are no longer a danger to them. The rest of them most likely are already on the way towards our home. Come on!"

He turned and made a few steps down the hill.

Gildor and Celebrimbor looked after him, uncertain if they really should abandon the rest of the elven soldiers on the plain.

Gil Galad recognized their reluctance and angrily spun round. "Come! And gather all you can find. We retreat!" He pointed at Celebrimbor. "You made clear enough that I can't help my father any more. And that means I have to take his place. So will you follow the leader of the host or not?"

"What about Túrin and his men?" Gildor asked almost faint-heartedly.

The other elf shook his head. "I can't help them any more than I could help my father. The only thing of importance now is the defence of our home."

Depressed, they assembled those able to make their way to the dwelling and stand another fight. The others Gil Galad ordered to hide and wait until the orcs left, then search the battlefield for survivors, though he feared that most likely they wouldn't find a single one. Finally they were to follow them to Nargothrond in a great arch towards the west.

"And what are we to do if there are still orcs in Taur-en-Faroth?" one of the wounded elves asked.

"Then there will be nothing and no one you can save any more. Try to reach Sirion and follow its run to the coast," Gil Galad answered. "There is no other way for us; we can't head for Gondolin or Doriath. Talath Dirnen is now dominated by Morgoth."

Hastily he and his companions set out for Nargothrond, but they knew the dragon and the orcs were far ahead and greatly feared for their people.

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Chapter End Notes

 

(1) Gelmir's message from Círdan: Gelmir's words are cited from the 'Unfinished Tales', II 'Narn I Hîn Húrin', Appendix

(2) Túrin's dislike of the Valar: see also 'Unfinished Tales', II 'Narn I Hîn Húrin', Appendix

(3) 'runagate': this word is unknown to all my dictionaries, but used by Tolkien in the UT. Three dictionaries against Tolkien? I trust the Master! ;)

(4) Name identity: indeed Círdan's messenger bore the same name as Gwindor's dead brother. According to Foster 'Gelmir' probably means 'Jewel of Heaven'

2nd AN:

If there are any major tactic faults made in this battle – hey, Orodreth was leader of the host, why do you look at me? :)

Though I know it's a classical cliffhanger, I fear the next chapter will be delayed. Have to do a lot of research and some learning for an exam. Sorry. Will destroy Nargothrond as soon as possible! (Now that sounds weird…).