East-front by Gwenniel

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Chapter 2

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The familiar profile of the bastions of the Himring castle were a welcomed sight in the distance. After a night-time ride in the wild the hill in the morning-sun was especially relieving. Lightly paved gravel paths back beneath the hooves of my horse was a change from the wilder roads of the lands between Doriath and Taur-nu-Fuin.

Riding up the road to the castle, past the houses and the small yards, our group was seen by many people who were already up and they recognised my brother and me by bowing their heads or by calling out and raising a hand in a greeting. I could almost feel I was home already, but I knew it wasn't home quite as we had left it. Just below the stone castle, on the fields lying on the eastern side of the hill, camps had been set up. The grandest tents were almost on the castle yard, in the protection of the guarded walls, the rest forming a city of their own on the plain. Our allies. I recognized the royal banner of Azaghál and of Belegost flying in the wind above one of the greatest tents. Another flag I knew carried an emblem that stood for the House of Bór, and yet a third one was that of Ulfang. The encampment indeed looked mighty as it spread out across the foot of the hill. It was like an anthill. There was everything that was needed to support an army. It looked peaceful from afar, yet I remembered Curufinwë's letter and that the host had some internal troubles to be tended. And yet, at the moment I was just happy to be at home. Looking up at the tower of Himring Castle, I saw five banners adorned with the star of my father hanging from the parapet of the keep, with two more being hung up as we rode through the gates. Now they were seven. All of the Sons of Fëanor had arrived.

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Tyelkormo met us at the castle stables. He had come there to tend to a horse only he knew how to. My brother, usually so flamboyantly royal, enjoying the attention he received (especially if it came from the ladies), looked somewhat ragged as he cleaned his dirty hands onto his trousers. "You returned," he commented with a small grin. "We expected you to come tomorrow, but today is fine, too."

"That is good," I laughed. "We rode through the night just to surprise you." Annoying as he may be at times, I was happy to see my brother again. "Findekáno sends his love."

Tyelkormo nodded without a word, accepting the greeting, but he turned back to the stallion he had been attending to before we came. I disturbed his work no more, but glanced at him. His back facing us, I could not see his expression, but I knew that the High-King's love was nothing that he sought for when the the very same king's crown was far more appealing. He did not dislike Findekáno - he had not forgotten the days we had spent with him and his siblings - but there was ever a bitterness in his heart. Crownless and dishonoured he was, now looking like a stable boy in his brother's halls. But I knew he wasn't a stable boy - he was a prince no matter what the hateful rumours told.

Macalaurë took down belongings from his horse and asked for a real stable boy to attend the steed and carry the rest of the cases. As he walked past Tyelkormo on his way to the upper castle, he ruffled the blonde hair of his brother. "Good to see you," he mumbled. I could see Tyelkormo hide a smile.

Servants unpacked my horse and carried most of my luggage up to my chambers. I whispered a thank you to my mare, before picking up my personal luggage. "I have heard the preparations are doing well," I said. Tyelkormo was silent, still kneeling by the horse - apparently there was something wrong with the hoof, and only Tyelkormo with his amazing skills with animals understood where the problem was. I walked up to him, but let him take his time in replying.

"They are," he said at last with a sigh. "Moryo is worn out from negotiations with dwarves, and boy, does he get grumpy! Curvo sits by your desk listening to lords and leaders. The Ambarussa work where they are needed. Telvo was helping me yesterday, whereas Pityo has been working with calculating rations." I nodded and Tyelkormo stood up at last, straightening his back, looking up at me. "We are doing as you told us to, big brother," he said quietly. "Putting asides selfish thoughts of being high-and-mighty sons of our father, you know. Being of good use by doing hard work in these times preceding war. That kind of things." He laughed dryly. "Working as a commoner," he said. "I don't mind it, but... I guess it is a change."

I laughed, too. "I am glad you understand," I said. "Now that I am back I will work, too. At least Curvo will get some rest from the desk."

"Oh, he won't necessarily like that, the way he enjoys his work. He looks just like father, scribbling his tidy notes in his tidy tengwar."

I could picture the scene. Leaving Tyelkormo to his work, I hung my satchel over my shoulder and went to my room to tidy myself from the travel. It had been a long time since I had last seen my room with its comfortable seats by the fireplace, the familiar soft bed and the small balcony in the solar. I put my bag on the bed and opened the windows just to feel the fresh breath of the wind on my face. Even in these busy times, I was glad to be home.

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Curufinwë was indeed working with full speed. Upon entering the room in order to greet him, I saw him leaning on the table, deep in thought, looking over at the writings he had been working on. The air in the study was more stuffy than it had been when I left it to Curufinwë, but it was now his hideout where he would sit behind a tall desk covered with carefully assembled piles of parchments and the like. Calculations of our strength, of estimated speed under different weather conditions, and of how much supplies of various different kinds we would still need to acquire. He told me to sit down and proceeded to read aloud his list, clearly proud of his extensive work. I was impressed, and told him so.

"So how was Findekáno doing," he asked at last as he had sat down, too. He twiddled his quill between his fingers, but his eyes were on me.

"He is fine," I replied. "And he sent his love to you."

"Now did he." A small scoff as he leant his chin on his fingers. "I was wondering how his troops were. I have numbers, you have the facts."

Of course the familial matters could wait. Curufinwë's calculations were lacking not so much how our cousin was as much as the latest intelligence, which was why he hadn't yet been able to complete them. I leant back in my seat. "They are as able as ours. The whole of Hithlum's forces both Elves and Men are as able as ours, though their Men be of different kin than the ones on our side." Curufinwë nodded without a word, his brain already working on it. "The small group from Nargothrond will fight just as well as us, too, in case you were wondering about that," I added.

The corner of his mouth twitched towards a smile, but his voice was steady. "I admit that I was curious about them. They are not many, but we are all surprised there came any at all."

"I say," I replied. "Considering what you and Tyelkormo..."

"I know," Curufinwë said quietly. "Please do not remind me of that."

"...had planned for them. It was not Artaresto who sent this troop, you know."

"Well, he did swear to never consider us his allies again, so I expected no less." A wry reply.

"Gwindor son of Guilin was their leader, I believe, or one of them." I observed my brother's reactions at my words, but they were undetectable as usual. "You know him, no doubt."

"Yes...I did," Curufinwë said slowly, still leaning his chin onto his fingers, staring at his knees. "Close to Findaráto. And Artaresto as well. Was to be his son-in-law I think. For Finduilas, you see. That was what Te-... what Telperinquar said."

He looked up, his eyes sharp. "This Gwindor was not a bad counsellor, I will give him that, though maybe a bit..." Curufinwë looked for words. "...Hasty. They took his brother, dragged him to Angband in the last war," he said, looking at me. "Such things do it for some. I think that's what postponed the wedding, too."

"Such things do it for some," I repeated in agreement. But I had been one to be dragged to Angband myself. And that hadn't done it for me. But Curufinwë knew these people, so I presumed he could judge their character. That was something he was good at. My brother had but become even craftier, paralleling our father, just as had been expected of him.

"He's still so hasty. But that's our luck or he wouldn't now be standing on our side," Curufinwë said.

"If you will call it luck."

He then accounted all the preparations he was in charge of as well as most of what everybody else were in charge of. Then he bade me follow him to the camps. It surprised me slightly, but as I asked for the reason, his face gave away nothing as he merely said I should talk to my allies.

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There was a different feeling to Himring. The noises were different, the air was different from when I had last been here, before my journey to Hithlum. All those that had come meanwhile had changed the atmosphere in their own ways. And naturally such a change would lead to splitting.

As Curufinwë and I, with a couple of Noldorin guards, walked in the aisles of the camps, noises quietened, but picked up after I had passed. I understood what Curufinwë wanted me to do. They did not speak of me or my brothers, but the men were tense and their thoughts not something they wanted me to hear. And so Curufinwë and I approached the leader of the company.

"I will not take these Dwarves any more," Bór grumbled to his bannermen as they stood in a ring by the tents. "Their selfishness, their arrogance... but what are they themselves...?" He slipped into his own tongue, his voice angry. I took it as my cue for taking a step forward. When Bór saw me he quietened down, but didn't stop his glowering.

"Evening," he said cordially. The Men around him took a step back in silence.

"I have heard there is something troubling you," I said.

"It is nothing, my lord."

"I believe I heard that you were speaking of Lord Azaghál and his troops."

Bór's dark eyes were cool as he looked at me. He was a tall Man, but I was taller still, so he either had to crane his neck or glower from below his heavy eyebrows to look me in the eyes. "I understand they are on the same side as us in this war, my lord," he said, his voice tense, "but they do not act like that."

"How so, master Bór?"

He glance at his men standing behind him, then back, not backing away now, the prideful Man he was. "They speak of us as if we were lesser. They refuse to trust us and their presence is an ill seed sprouting dislike."

"Do you speak of them any better?" Curufinwë asked. We all knew he was testing the Man's ability to hold his tongue. Bór passed the test.

"I do not. Yet, I do not think the Dwarves think of us fairly. We are not even in the same area of the camp, yet they clearly have a hatred in their hearts. I wonder how well we can fight beside those who hold us in contempt."

"Lord Azaghál is our ally as well as you are," I said. "He is a comrade of mine, paying for his gratitude from a time when we fought side by side against a band of Orcs. You are a banneret who has sought for comradeship at the threat of war. Yet I do not think of you any less until you have proven me wrong. Azaghál, on the other hand is prideful and suspicious - it will take some time before he can trust you. I can speak of it to him. But I will not have you behaving like jealous children when we are standing at the gates of battle. I will have you turn a deaf ear to those who talk ill of you, understand?"

Bór's expression did not change. It was impressive, because his bannermen quivered slightly as I glared at them. Yet eventually he nodded, a tiny movement of his head, and I knew we were even.

"Belegost has long traded with the lands of my brother, Lord Caranthir, and now Caranthir's allies, the House of Ulfang, is among our ranks. The Dwarves may resent them, too, but I do not see them complaining about it," I added. Bór made a noise in reply. I should really teach these Men some manners, I thought wryly. Truly arduous they were. It was only a matter of time before Ulfang and his sons would start complaining as well, I supposed. I would have Caranthir deal with them. Bór was my subordinate, Ulfang his. And Azaghál... that prideful old Dwarf fought his own battles.

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That night I did little besides having a small supper and socialising with my brothers. Tyelkormo announced that the horse he had been tending was already in better shape while the Ambarussa told me of how they had been supervising the division of supplies for the battle. Carnistir said he was tired after a long day of leading a patrol to the nearby hill and grumbled when I asked him to have a talk with his allies, but agreed to do it on the morrow.

Since Macalaurë had come home he had talked to the Elves who would stay in Himring and written two letters he wanted me to have a look at. After reading them through I was weary and soon retired to my chambers. Before going to rest I stood by the balcony of my solar from which I could see past the roofs of the castle. In the dark the camp outside was like a starlit sky, the black surface lit up by over a hundred of fires from lanterns of the guards or cooking-pots of the tents. I had seen a similar camp in Hithlum, the tents of the House of Hador and of the Elves of Nargothrond not far away from the Kingly Palace, although over there the banners had been of different colours and had other symbols on them and there the people had followed the High-King loyally and I had not noticed - nor had my cousin mentioned - distrust among the soldiers. I remembered Húrin Lord of Dor-Lómin whom Findekáno had spoken fondly of - indeed it was to his house he had gifted the Dragon helm I had given. I wondered about the loyalty. Had I had another helm, would I have given it to Bór, providing that he'd accept something made by Dwarves?

I sighed and let these thoughts drop. Leaving the draperies open, I went to my bed and sleep caught up to me soon after I had laid down.

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Carnistir's face was in a frown when I met him the next day. He was standing tall on a cliff, looking down at the camp. As he saw me his expression didn't change much, but at least he nodded for me to know he wouldn't bite me if I approached. "Any news?" I asked.
"Little," he said. "The Men still have issues with the Dwarves and vice versa, but as long as they don't kill each other before the battle, it's no problem. I spoke with Ulfang - he assured there will be no trouble from his Men." "We need to be able to trust each other if we are to fight side by side," I said gravely. "Try to speak to the Dwarves." My brother's expression became a glare. "What do you think I've been doing? Sitting idle? I'll have no more business in that matter," he said and sighed, drawing his fingers through his brown hair. "I was just supposed to keep the peace and hold any bloodshed. You go speak with them yourself if you want to." I looked at the camp of the Dwarves. The banner of the Dwarf King was still high above the roofs of the settlement. "Will you accompany me if I do?" Carnistir lift an eyebrow. Then he laughed. "Right now I'm in the mood for some entertainment... so yes." He was snarky, my brother.

The Dwarves did not even deny they were in no good terms with the Men. The Men, likewise, did little to hide their dislike. The untrusting atmosphere was ever-present and the feelings mutual. Carnistir, the spiteful personality he could be, frequently noted a "just as I said", while I was dragged into the negotiations.

"These Men," Lord Azaghál begun by pointing towards the camps of the Edain. "I have met their kin before. Some are honourable, but many aren't. And these," he pointed again, now more towards the banners of Ulfang," where do they come from? Beyond the mountains? What do they know of us and what do we know of them? They have joined this war for reasons other than ours."

"We have a mutual enemy," I said. "That is why we should be allies. Tell me, Lord Azaghál, why should I distrust these Men whom I have already made my comrades? This union will not work out if we are not able to cooperate."

The old Dwarf looked at me from under his thick brows. A golden chain hung around his neck, and his beard, impressive although already greying, reached below his belt. "I have seen more of the East than you, King Maedhros." A deliberate choice of words. I did not flinch at the lost title even as he looked at me sharply, knowing he was testing me. "And you too, Lord Caranthir, Merchant of Thargelion. You are both wise in your own ways and I may not be as ancient as you, but I know that you Elves have had little contact with lands beyond our mountains. Whereas we on the border have seen much. And what have we seen? Darkness. Stranger beasts roam the eastern woods and even the Khazád of the East are different from us." He glanced at the Men again, suspicion burning in his eyes.

He was right in that his realm had more contact with East - guarding many of the mountain passes that connected Beleriand with Lands Beyond Ered Luin - but I could not afford my allies to mistrust each other on the battlefield. One should always be able to trust one's brother-in-arms even if one would stand in different ranks in the battle.

"Lord Azaghál, the House of Bór have, under my command, aided us as we have them, not showing any sign of rebellion; and the House of Ulfang, following the banner of my brother, have proved worthy Men. In fact," I raised my voice a little as the Dwarf frowned, "they are grateful of our comradeship and have been of little nuisance."

"You mean to add 'unlike you lot', do you not?"

"No I do not. Your troops and mine have long been in alliance."

He looked at me: "I remember." he said and nodded. But then he slowly turned his eyes to Carnistir by my side. My brother glanced back at him, but said nothing and as the Dwarf lord remained silent as well, Caranthir's mouth became a thin line and he turned his head. "You, young prince," the Dwarf said at last after a heavy silence. And then he went on, but he was not prideful, only grave. "Not all Men are as kind as some you have met and not all are worth saving."

Carnistir's hand twitched - I saw it - but his haughty expression remained. He did not speak as the old Dwarf-lord left us.

It was as I thought, I sighed in my mind. Azaghál was a Dwarf and few Dwarves ever trusted someone outside their own kindred, no matter how vital it was for the situation. The House of Ulfang had caused little ruction in the camps - even as the other Houses of Men had their arguments with the Dwarves. Maybe their show of respect towards the Elves was the thing that annoyed the Dwarves so much.

I mentioned this to my brother, but at first my words went to deaf ears. Then I touched his shoulder, he turned slowly to look at me.

"What?" he asked bluntly.

"What 'what'? I have been addressing you." I said, frowning.

He said nothing, but then he turned away his face. "I did not listen, I'm afraid."

I said nothing. Because ere long he would explain himself to me. As soon as he had pulled up his facade.

"Moryo," I muttered to him, "have not the House of Ulfang always followed your lead without questioning."

"They have," he said distantly. "Most of the troubles have been among those under Azaghál and that of Bór - not that I shall judge your followers."

"I know, because I shall not judge yours, nor would I."

"I allied with those Men because you wished so," he admitted. "There has been little trading before now, as they do not use the great roads. You know I do not really care for them, so say what you want of them."

"Care for them enough to consider them 'worth saving' despite what Lord Azaghál said," I mused, but my brother stiffened at those words.

"Do you know what he meant by what he said about that?" he asked me as he stopped. His voice was bitter and unlike before. I shook my head slowly, wondering what he was on about.

"Good," he said sharply. "By the depths of Helevorn, neither do I."

"Not all as kind or worth saving, was it not something like that," I begun, but with long strides Caranthir had already passed me by.