East-front by Gwenniel

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Chapter 3

We were ready before early sunrise. It did not surprise me. The schedule meant for us to depart at sunrise as the latest, but as with all schedules, even those in dire war, there had to be some spare time and few reservations. But I was proud of my army. From where I was standing on elevated ground, on the top of a small tower looking out over the fields I could see them all. Day in and day out, this was the fruit of our preparations, this was the blow that would avenge my father and my uncle. In front of me stood the Elves. I felt pride in the tall soldiers of the Noldor. It was as if fulfilling an unspoken promise to my father, to have them stand there ready for battle. As I looked to my right, I could see the troops of Men, one unit under the command of Bór, another under Ulfang. They stood broad and grim looking, but brave. I knew they all would do whatever it took to defeat their enemy. I looked to my left and I could see the Dwarven troops. Azaghál in their forefront was along with his closest guards already wearing his war-mask. It was terrible to look at: it reflected the spirit with which they went to war.

A trumpet echoed over the field and it was heard by many others. Soon horns of all tones and customs blew their signals. The sun had started rising. My brothers stood beside me and I could see their faces lit up by the light from the East. When the horn calls ended, I stepped forward and the whole field fell into silence as if a spell had been cast. Their eyes were fixed on me.

"Your fathers, my father," I begun, holding a small pause for my voice to echo away. They were still looking at me. "Your fathers and my father, they are alike." I had planned this speech in beforehand, but now, at this moment, I had so much more to say that I did not know where to begin. "Your mothers and my mother, they have something in common, too, as do your siblings and mine." I could hear some of my brothers stifle a noise in their throats, but I knew they would let me finish, so I went on. "We share something. We share the love we hold for this world. We share the grievances we have seen occur in this world, because they have affected us all. These grievances are because of a shared enemy." They stood still, looking at me with blank expressions. I felt I had to keep this short. "That enemy is the one who has killed my father, but that enemy is also the one who has hurt yours. Each of us are under the shadow of He who lurks in the dark: a thief, murderer, liar and so much more. That is why I bid you to avenge your family, as will I. Because this is how I will avenge yours and you will avenge mine." My fingers reached out for the hilt of my sword and I pulled it out into the sunlight where the reflections shone like rain. "Because today we are one. Today we stand united!" I cried and the silence broke, as thousands of swords and spears were pulled out. It was a glittering field, like a lake under a summer drizzle, like a strange field of flowers, like a starlit sky. It roared like a beast unchained as it praised my speech as if it had been a scent of blood to fuel its hunger. "Today we stand united, we and those with us who are in the West!" I shouted, shaking my sword. "Let us march to them!" Once again the field thundered. I smiled grimly. I wondered briefly what kind of speech Findekáno was having at his end of the battle field. I would have him recite it all over when I would meet him next time after the battle.

My brothers stood beside me silent, strangely solemn amidst the uproar, but their swords, made by our father, shined with might equal to mine. I thought of father and grandfather. I also thought of my brothers and cousins and the children I was an uncle to. I was Nelyafinwë Maitimo, a Finwë - the fourth of my name. Today I would avenge all the Finwës before me and all our legacy to come.

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"Everything goes as planned," the scouts from the front told us as we stopped briefly. "There is no sight of the enemy as of yet."

"But we have yet to enter the An Fauglith," Curufinwë said gravely. "I doubt Morgoth is as ill prepared as to leave his border defences open although we still have tens of miles to Angband."

"And yet there has been no sightings of Orcs," I said. "We can only walk on and keep a lookout."

"Those up north... I wonder how they fare." Macalaurë had a thoughtful look. "There has been no message from the northern patrol, has there?"

I shook my head and the scout admitted that he hadn't heard anything from them either."

"Carnistir, there are your allies in the northern patrol, aren't there?" Tyelkormo said, turning to look at a Carnistir whose face was sourer than usually. "Wouldn't they contact us if there was anything? Or even if there wasn't. Communication is important."

"Don't you tell me about communication, brother," Carnistir huffed. "I have once again been communicating with the troops of Lord Azaghál the whole day whereas you stood no doubt combing your hair by your mirror -"

Carnistir had indeed spent the morning arguing about something with the Dwarves - I did not even know the details of the reason, because the whole morning had been too busy, although I suspected there had again been some voices of discontent from the interracial camps. But my brothers had no right to start arguing with each other. Carnistir saw my stern look and sighed.

"Of course they would contact us. Ulfang would send a messenger as fast as he could, he gave me his word." Carnistir pulled his fingers through his hair. "I am sure he will continue to follow our orders just as well as he has done this far, no matter what the old dwarf says."

"I never liked the look in his eyes," a voice said behind us. "That Easterling's." I turned to look, but Carnistir was already sighing deeply.

"Lord Azaghál," he said with a tense politeness, not acknowledging the fact that he had just spoken of the old King.

The dwarf had caught up to us, carrying his war axe as if it were a walking staff. His beard was now plaited, but his helm was carried by an attendant of his. "It may be something personal he has against us Khazád, but I promise you, Lord Caranthir: he is in this war for his own advantage."

"Lord Azaghál, did you not already tell us that?" Carnistir turned to face him. He lift his chin, towering far higher than the dwarf, his Noldorin pride showing. "They are our allies as much as you are. Let me remind you of that I have had Edain as my allies before. Granted, some have been worse, but some have been better..." his words trailed off as he thought of something from far beyond past. "Still," he continued, picking up his thoughts again, "I doubt they are more selfish than you, Master."

Such scorn was in his voice, that Azaghál turned away with a dark look. Yet he made a funny noise as he left, as if the old dwarf had been laughing at the fourth son of Fëanor. Carnistir didn't look happy. He was stressed. "Why am I the one who has to deal with this people?" he hissed. "They are good warriors, I'll give them that, but I wouldn't care if they ended up suffocating in their own beards."

"You are the one who knows them best," I said. "They trust you more than they trust us." My words received a disbelieving look. I did not bother to mention that Lord Azaghál's temper was no worse than that of Carnistir.

Macalaurë and I were left together as our brothers made their leave to join the troops they would be commanding in battle. I asked the scout from the front to return to his post, telling him to inform the front-line to go on with their plan. As the scout left, I noticed how deep in his thoughts Macalaurë looked.

"Do you think Azaghál has a point concerning Ulfang?" he asked me when I inquired what troubled him. "Carnistir assures us of that Ulfang is reliable, but... this is not the first time Azaghál has complained about Ulfang."

"Oh I know, trust me. Azaghál has never liked Men. But you think there might be a reason for their dislike?" I asked. "I have already gone through this with him. It is the same way with some of the Men complaining about Azaghál because they believe the Dwarves are here for their own gain."

Macalaurë nodded slowly. "But Azaghál is of a kin that has been our ally for a longer time. Ulfang..."

"Káno, this union will fall apart if we don't trust in each other," I said again. "You must understand that. Morgoth feeds on hate: he tries to spread mistrust just as he did in Valinor, but this time we will not succumb to it."

"Of course not."

I nodded and turned to walk away - there were still countless of details to attend to. Macalaurë, however, stood still.

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The march north was swift and we went as fast as we could without losing in energy. Our first stop would be the Dorthonion beacon which we would lit as a sign for the High-King. We had some two days time before we were expected in battle at the latest. The enemy fortifications on the way were located in accordance with the information we had gathered. All were scattered as small Orc holds in the nooks of the hills or in pits in the ground, a foul look lingering about them. But as we moved on along with the rising sun, as the dawn turned closer to noon, none stood up to challenge us or even to retreat as we marched by. A platoon was sent to investigate the stronghold, but they reported that the lair had already been abandoned - recently, but not in this month. Still cautious, we kept on moving. Tyelkormo leading the vanguard Elfin cavalry and the Ambarussa taking the back cavalry; Curufinwë on the southern side nearer to the Dwarves as Carnistir had already refused the honours, him now leading the division on the northern side, many lords of the Noldoli and Men under his command. Macalaurë and I at the centre.

I would have wished for another placement - to be at the front to take on the first blow before it would hit any of my brothers, but as the commander of the whole of the Western Forces it was my place to be where the messengers of each group could reach me with ease. Macalaurë at my right hand side, I rode on in silence, not speaking unless someone addressed me. I would have wanted to ride on the front and be the first one to meet Findekáno when we would meet on the plains, but I knew he would be at the centre of his legion as well, not stepping forward until the march ended and the pieces were set or when he was directly under attack. It was for the best to keep the strategists safe, though I rued how many might have to sacrifice their lives for us.

Our helms were matted so the sun did not gleam in our helms as we moved on, allowing us to pass unnoticed should someone have been observing us from above. But still no one did. As all the bases of the Enemy seemed empty, I gave orders for Carnistir to spread his flank further northwards as Curufinwë and the Dwarves pressed on forward, as for us to gradually turn north. Tomorrow was to be when the signal beacons could finally be lit and Findekáno would know the East had moved according to the plan. The army had now spread itself into smaller units and only messengers travelled between the groups. The idea was to reunite once we approached the battlefield.

And then it happened. Word from North.

On his coat the messenger wore a badge signifying that he was allied with the Elves, but he was a Man, black haired and much shorter than us. Yet he seemed to have fought valiantly. A bandage already covered his dark forehead as he stood there before us, telling that a troop of Morgoth had finally opened one of his strongholds.

We could not afford to ignore it. Having somehow been spotted, we would not send the signal to the High-King until this had been taken care of.

"Tell the South to halt," I heard Macalaurë say. "We have to wait. But hopefully it will be only a brief intervention."

"Send aid to North," I added, "Amrod with his archers." The Noldorin messenger nodded and sent word for the commanders involved.

"He attacks us now?" Macalaurë said to me quietly. "So he did empty those previous forts in order to fill up these."

"The closer we come to Thangorodrim, the more enemies there will be," I said. "And ere the day shall end all of Angband will be emptied."

"But then Findekáno will lead his side," Macalaurë said confidently. "He will follow the plan and wait for us even if we came a little late."

"But I don't mean to come late."

He looked at me with a somewhat sad expression. "We won't come late. We will follow your orders and we won't come late."

"Thank you," I replied. "We won't come late. But what was it with the expression? Why look so sad when he himself said this would only be a brief intervention?"

Yet I thought I knew. We could not continue our ride at once. If an attack had come already now it had the potential to change everything. A large attack would destroy or delay the whole troop fighting it and without Carnistir's flank of the army we would not be able to follow the original battle. So we had to wait. I tightened my grip of the reins. Because even I did not want to think about a scenario where we would come late. But he said he'd wait. I held onto my broken wrist absentmindedly. It did not hurt now. It had not hurt for the whole morning. Or maybe I just hadn't had time to pay attention to it.

That one last night Findekáno and I had sat outside, waiting for the sun to rise. Much in the same way we had so, so long ago sat in the highest tower waiting for Laurelin to bloom, just because we liked the golden light that played with the flowers in the garden in a whole other way than the silver sheen of Telperion. We had been sitting outside on the stone wall, looking at the stars that had begun to appear in the northern sky. The south had still been light, but a cool breeze had drawn in and for a moment the summer's warmth hadn't given much comfort and the wine had had to do.

"What do you truly think of our chances, Maitimo?" he asks me after a while, his hand still in mine although slipping away.

We have just finished promising to fight for each other and now he is asking this? But I know why. Earlier I said we were sure to win, but then I seemed as if I wouldn't believe it myself. How could I make my cousin trust my words?

"I don't know. What I wish for is not what I believe, but what I believe does not matter as nobody can know for sure."

"You sought my company. Do not avoid my question," he sighs, releasing my hand, readjusting his sitting position on the wall, turning to face me better. He still looks a bit glum. "I don't think you seem as sure about this any more, cousin. I think that when you first envisioned the plan you had it so clear in your mind and your goal was so imminent. Whereas now you have started your doubting."

I do not reply. What is there to say to someone who can read your mind so easily. It is easy for him, having known me for almost all his life.

"I worry that something might go wrong after all, and I will not be there to prevent it," I say at last.

"Do not bear the burden on your shoulders," Findekáno says, his voice kind. "You, no matter how great you are, no matter how strong a warrior, no matter how best the cousin and friend you are... you are not omnipotent."

"I wish I were," I looked up. "I guess I am too used to being the big-brother who, in the end, has to take care of everything."

"I know. I share your fears. I am a big-brother as well, though... arguably not of as many siblings. But this is something greater, though. And you know it and that's what scares you." His voice was calm. His fingers were idly untying a golden ribbon from his long dark plait. I saw him looking at me in the dim light of the dusk, his expression contemplating. He was not, contrary to what I had thought, in any way fussing over my hand, my sadness, my fears. He was merely there to support me as the friend he had always ever been. Even with my worries, he held me equal, and I wondered why I had ever believed he thought of me as a weakling.

"It does scare me," I admitted. "This big-brother, whenever he sees siblings, remembers that they have to be protected until they can mind themselves. But this time I cannot do that. I will have to be on the forefront."

"But that is why you fight this war, is it not?" He was still looking at me. "Because you want that to be the way you can protect everybody."

"It is."

"I'll be there," he said, laying a hand on my shoulder.

"Even if I'm delayed?" I said, attempting a smile.

"I'll wait for you, I promise."

One day we would triumph. That day the world would bathe in light, that day Arda would have peace. My father would be there and Nolofinwë also, and they would not argue nor give each other the angry looks. Grandfather and Arafinwë would be there too, and mother and everybody who remained in Valinor. Those who were now dead would be there, Angamaitë and Aikanáro, meeting us and saying they always knew we would finish what we started, because that was who we were. Asking whether we would have had need for their help. And then Manwë would come and pardon my father who would be permitted back to Tírion. And Findekáno and I could be friends again with our families' consent, because who could renounce the friendship we had?

It was silly, I know it, but that was what I envisioned that night - that was the picture I painted to Findekáno as he sat there by my side, smiling at my dreams. And when the sun from behind the mountains crept back into the sky, he told me how that was what he hoped for, too.

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We lay low, waiting, and most of us had come down from our horses and some were having a small snack consisting of waybread. The day was drawing to its end. We had rode on a bit, but feared to go too far before we had received any information from Carnistir or Pityafinwë. But there was no word from either of them. The Northern troops had a battle of their own going on as we lay low. The distance between us was just enough for someone to call for more backup, but no more: we could not see them from where we were. The shadows moved moment by moment, urging us to go on. The beacon had to be lit. I knew that if this went on much longer, we would have no other choice but to leave Carnistir and Pityafinwë to deal with this by themselves. It would mean a smaller army and a change of set-up, but it would also mean we would be in time to meet Findekáno. Yet it would be a great risk. It tore my nerves, knowing that two of my brothers and so many more whom I knew were beyond immediate aid.

When we finally heard something from them it was already dark. This time the messenger came back with a note he handed to us. I recognized it as Carnistir's handwriting, hasty Quenya scribbled on a parchment and signed by "M.C.", Morifinwë Carnistir. For the eyes of Macalaurë and I only. I opened it first and read it. Without saying a word I passed it on to Macalaurë who read it solemnly.

"I told them to say it was but a small force, not a troop of enemies. Didn't need to overreact, Káno. A measly force consisting mostly of their dirty Orcish and Edain scouts. The lieutenant is dead but I fear some of them rode back north to inform their masters, so we need to hurry, but no doubt you know that.

BUT anyway what did you tell Pityo? He said he came for an attack from Northern Mountains. No such thing, never mind what the Man with him told them. What's this about?

- M.C."

Macalaurë looked up at me. His mouth was a thin line and his eyes dark, unblinking. "'What the Man with him told'? What Man?" he whispered for only me to hear.

"The messenger I sent, I presume," I replied. "I told him the very same words the one of Caranthir's Easterlings told us about the northern attack..."

Macalaurë glanced at the parchment in his fist. "But Maitimo," he said. "According to Moryo there has not been a northern attack, just a small force. Besides..." he looked at me and the parchment crumpled in his fingers as they pressed together. "The one you sent was an Elf."

"But Carnistir said..." I fell quiet. Carnistir's letter made it seem as if Pityafinwë had received his information from a Man, but Macalaurë was right. Had I not sent a Noldorin messenger? I mulled over these thoughts even as we got back on our horses and pressed forward. Going by my gut-feeling there was definitely something strange about this, but I could not act on that alone. Not only would it create the very mistrust I had tried to purge, it would also make us lose even more valuable time, something we simply could not afford.

Chapter End Notes

Credit goes to the Nirnaeth Arnoediad factsheet over at Henneth Annun Story Archives. http://www.henneth-annun.net/resources/events_view.cfm?evid=252 It helped me especially with adapting the timeline of the battle.

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