People of the Ice by Fadesintothewest

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Chapter 12: The Forest Between Rivers

Chapter notes: To follow the path the Elves are taking here follow the interactive map that is part of the interactive LOTR project:http://lotrproject.com/map/beleriand/#zoom=3&lat=-850&lon=1500&layers=BTTTTTT

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Chapter 12: The Forest Between Rivers

 

story notes: Pitya-naucor: petty dwarves

 

“The first Avari that the Eldar met again in Beleriand seem to have claimed to be Tatyar [the first name of the tribe which came to be referred to as the Noldor], who acknowledged their kinship . . . . They were actually unfriendly to the Noldor, and jealous of their more exalted kin, whom they accused of arrogance.” from The War of the Jewels, Quendi and Eldar.

 

 

Amarthan traced their route on a map. “We will cross to the west of the Mountains of Mithrim, here,” she pointed, to the crossing now familiar to all the houses of elves for they frequented the pass. The Fingolfians were particularly familiar with it as many crossed to begin the construction of Turgon’s settlement near the coast. “We will keep to the foothills until we come to the crossing that leads south and to the mouth of the Taeglin. From there we will proceed to the Crossings of Taeglin and take cover at the edges of the Forest of Brethil.”

 

Celegorm spoke up. “Will we be allowed? Thingol has no love for us.”

 

“He does not,” Amarthan agreed, keeping her eyes on the map. “The Sindar there will not block our way. Their forest is outside the girdle. Their loyalty has not been bought, yet. We can rest there and resupply.”

 

“I see,” Celegorm answered, making sure he avoided eye contact with Acharedel. Celegorm was unnerved by her, could feel her eyes on him. He decided it would be best to not engage her except for matters related to their journey. He did not want to have to discuss Aredhel with her, though he knew of the love Acharedel had for his former lover. As for Fingon, he had not spoken much to Celegorm. Celegorm had to rely on Amarthan for most of the logistics of the trip. This deeply angered Celegorm, but he focused on what needed to be accomplished: find the healer that they hoped could save Nelyo.

 

“From the ravines of Taeglin we will head straight south to Amon Rûdh,” Amarthan continued.

 

Fingon raised an eyebrow. That would lead to territories Fingon had not scouted. “I’ve heard say that the Pitya-naucor live in that region, though none of us have seen the stunted people.”

 

Amarthan looked up at Fingon, “They do not wish to be seen. Some of my people have good relations with them, others not. We will not dwell on finding them unless we have need.”

 

Acharedel agreed, “Such curiosity would take us from our goal.”

 

“I assume we will cross towards the Fens of Sirion,” Celegorm continued, not engaging Fingon or Acharedel.

 

Amarthan added, “Yes, and on around the Falls of Sirion and beyond to the Gates. We will follow the River Sirion south to Nan-Tathren. From there we will cross to Taur-Im-Duinath, where we have heard your healer resides.”

 

Remembering the mighty river Sirion, Amarthan added, looking at Fingon,  “My heart desires to see the source of the great River Sirion. Tell me, my lord, is it still beautiful?”

 

“Aye,” he answered, “it is, though my eyes spent more time examining the plains.” Left unsaid by Fingon was that Fingolfin had begun building a settlement there.

 

Celegorm glanced at Fingon. He would hear the detail of Fingon’s journey to Thangorodrim on this trip even though it would be arduous, not for the terrain, but for its speed. They needed to find the healer and return to Nelyo as quick as was possible. They selected their most sturdy and enduring mounts for the trip.

 

Celegorm directed himself to Amarthan. “And you are certain the Sindar at Brethil will exchange our mounts for fresh horses?”

 

“You can be sure of that. They will take advantage and breed your horses while they have them. When we return we will pick up our horses. A fair trade.” The group agreed. She continued, “We should be at the Forest of Brethil in three, maybe four days’ time, depending on how swiftly we travel.”

 

The snow would lessen considerably as they crossed the Mountains of Mithrim that trapped much of the Northern weather over the lake. Combined, the lake effect caused larger amounts of snow to fall. Lucky for them, the snows had fallen in lesser amounts South of Lake Mithrim

 

Amaranth reminded them, “That is the longest part of our journey. From the Forest our path south is mostly plains and rolling hills and the snow will recede. We should be to Nan Tathren in two or three days.”

 

“A two-week trip,” Celegorm calculated.

 

Acharedel retorted, “Assuming the Laiquendi quickly agree to our plan. No, Tyelko it will be at least three weeks before you return.”

 

“Then let us leave, for I cannot withstand the fear growing in my heart,” Celegorm spoke.

 

Fingon did not rebuke Celegorm for his haste. He felt it too. Nelyo’s torment was slowing his physical healing. His anguish was unbearable. The healers had anticipated some of what befell Nelyo, though they had hoped they knew enough to help him, but that was not so. Indeed, that this journey was successful was of utmost importance.  

 

“Let us linger no more,” Fingon declared. Fingon understood that Nelyo’s survival was more than just about one man living, it was the event that could swing the pendulum in favor of Fingolfin’s host. If Nelyo died, there would be no reason to come together. The Fëanorians would too easily slip back into resentment and disregard, provoking Fingolfin’s host. Nelyo needed to survive. It was why Fingolfin agreed so quickly to this not entirely safe trip.

 

Celegorm whistled for Fëanorian mounted soldiers and they came, ready to escort the group to the western most passes of Mithrim. From there the cavalry would make its way back due to the snows, but the elven steeds were strong, the cold but a nuisance for them. Normally, elven patrols preferred to be on foot in the winter for the elves could move at a quicker pace, but they needed the horses for this short part of the journey.

 

 “We are ready,” a Fëanorian rider announced.

 

“Away with you then,” Celegorm ordered, slapping the horse on the rump and sending off the small company of riders. They would act like a plough, packing down the snow for Fingon’s group to make better time. While elves were light on snow, they would make better time yet with a packed path.  

 

)()()()(

 

The small company departed and made quick time crossing the Mountains of Mithrim. Fortune was on their side. Snow did not fall which would have slowed them down considerably. They hoped this luck would accompany them on the remainder of their trip.

 

Approaching the camp fire, Fingon positioned himself next to Celegorm. He too needed to find out more of the Fëanorian’s story. Celegorm moved over and offered Fingon a piece of roasted rabbit. Before eating, Fingon asked, “Tell me how Moringotto took Nelyo. I do not know the details of this story.” Fingon started eating the rabbit looking expectantly at Celegorm.

 

Celegorm eyed Fingon, “If you tell me the details of your journey to save Nelyafinwë.”

 

“Fair enough,” Fingon replied, between mouthfuls of food.

 

Celegorm began his tale. He described the Dagor-nuin-Giliath, the Battle under the Stars and Fëanor’s death, and Fingon shared details of the Battle of Lammoth and Argon’s death. In this manner they created a timeline of sorts of their time in Endórë. Privately, Celegorm pondered if Fingolfin and Maglor have put such a timeline together. It would be important information for military purposes, to understand Morgoth’s larger movements. That he would have to find out later. He picked up his story, “Very soon after father passed on, an emissary from Moringotto came to offer us details of the surrender, offering us a prize in return.”

 

“Fëanáro’s body was turned to ash?” Fingon asked, returning to this part of Celegorm’s tale, ignoring for a moment the detail of Moringotto.

 

“He did,” Celegorm answered, “his own fire devoured him.” The stunned audience was quiet until Acharedel broke their silence: “It is not a surprise. Fëanáro’s fëa burned bright in life and it consumed him.” There was much behind Acharedel’s words.

 

Celegorm’s eyes narrowed, but before he could offer a retort, Fingon interjected, returning to Morgoth’s offer: “Though Nelyo knew it was surely a trap, he hoped to gain advantage of Moringotto’s offer.”

 

“Indeed,” Celegorm answered knowing Fingon was moving them away from a needless argument. “He believed that we could take our own force and take back what was ours, but they were waylaid by Valaraukar.  His company was killed and Nelyo taken, so we were told by another of Moringotto’s emissaries who came to negotiate Nelyo’s freedom.”

 

Fingon’s face was grim, pressing him on more information about the Valaraukar, sharing with Celegorm of the Balrog’s that attacked the Sindarin village. These were foes Fingolfin had not encountered directly.

 

Amarthan spoke up, “I knew those families.” 

 

Acharedel replied, “I was there. They suffered a terrible fate. Words cannot convey comfort.”

 

“I know not how to pray for them, though I mourn their loss. Words are indeed not enough,” Fingon agreed.

 

“Darkness is visited upon all of our clans,” Amarthan replied.

 

After a few quiet moments of reflection, Fingon asked of Celegorm, “I assume it was up to Maglor then to decide.”

 

Celegorm nodded. “Maglor refused. We all agreed. After all there was no way to know whether Nelyo lived. Many believed him slain and even if he were alive, we did not believe rescue possible.” Celegorm appreciated the irony of his words shared with Fingon.

 

“No, indeed for your vow,” Fingon added, reminding Celegorm of the reason of their failing. Their priority would always be the oath, beyond the individual lives of each of them.

 

“Yes,” Celegorm whispered, his eyes watching the fire, keenly aware of the primacy of his oath. “Before father died, he reminded us of our duty to him, demanding we avenge him.” Celegorm avoided naming the oath outright or the Silmarils in Amarthan’s company. Though he knew she was sworn to Turgon, he trusted her little.

 

Amarthan chose to listen quietly, still she desired to know more. There were aspects of the tale she did not understand, but she knew enough not to pose questions that would cause Celegorm and Fingon to be more guarded. She was sworn to Turgon, nevertheless the two Noldor did not trust outsiders. Amarthan was loyal to Turgon, for her family and many of the Sindar from her village were relocating to Vinyamar. As a result, she knew of the betrayal between the two factions, heard aspects of why and how they left Aman. Because of her oath she was bound to secrecy. This tale did not venture beyond those loyal to Turgon.

 

Fingon said no more about their choice regarding Nelyo; but for their oath for Fëanor’s Silmarils. That Fëanor had reminded them of their oath as he died was preposterous. Acharedel too believed the same, squeezing Fingon’s hand as Celegorm told this part of the story. Amarthan was a scout, a tracker, observant. She noted Acharedel’s familiarity with Fingon, knew there were stories about the two of them, but had not put much thought into it until then.

 

Celegorm threw some more wood on the fire. “You decided to go find Nelyo after you found out Moringotto took him,” Celegorm declared, willing Fingon to now tell his tale.

 

Amarthan leaned in. She’d wanted to know the details of Fingon’s story, but not heard much. Fingon had been stingy with what he told others. Perhaps the only ones who knew the full tale were his father and siblings.

 

Fingon laughed, leaning back from the fire. It cast a shadow on his face, but it did not dim his beauty, only added contours of shadow. Fingon decided he would share the story with Celegorm, knowing he would share it with his brothers. Let them know what their allegiance to a dead father has made them cowards. Fingon started: “The night we returned from my last visit to your camp, I readied. I did not take much with me as I did not wish to alert anyone that I was intending to be gone.”

 

“Many of us believed you had left with the cavalry,” Acharedel added, letting Fingon know she had not let go of her resentment for being deceived.

 

Fingon responded, “I did not lightly make that decision. You would have tried to dissuade me, even telling my father of my plans, for surely I was heading towards my own doom.”

 

Acharedel conceded, “Perhaps you are correct. Nevertheless we suffered for it.”

 

Celegorm listened to the two go back and forth. Fingon’s decision weighed heavier for him as a result. As the story marched on, Celegorm knew, he would be indicted with every part for his inaction.

 

“It was an easy journey, at first,” Fingon stated. Looking at Amarthan he added, “I learned much about Endórë. The Sirion was my companion and the growing things sang to keep me company.” Amarthan smiled. Fingon continued, “Crossing the Ered Wethrin proved perilous. Shadow is upon that land, but the mountain still persists.  That crossing took much time.” This part of Fingon’s journey brought crucial information to Fingolfin’s host for with it they sent out scouts to ascertain Fingon’s suggestion of a fort in the region.

 

Celegorm inclined his head in question.

 

“Days,” Fingon admitted. “Until I found the river once more and made it to Eithel Sirion. I rested there. Replenished my energy and waited for the sun to truly see the expanse of Ard-Galen.”

 

Amarthan spoke, curiosity getting the best of her, “What was that like?”

 

Fingon paused, searching for words. “The grasses were yet tall, dancing in the breezes of the clear morning. She companioned me,” Fingon spoke, remembering Endórë’s presence. “The growing things were exuberant, happy to share a thought with one of the Eldar. They are lonely,” Fingon frowned. “And Thangorodrim grew taller, but always menacing. As I neared Moringotto’s lands, the grasses died and gave way to barren earth, ripped by great upheaval. Foul mists emanated from within. Though living, this life is turned by Moringotto’s darkness.”

 

Acharedel was chilled. She too was hearing Fingon’s story for the first time. She’d not spend much time with him since his return with Nelyafinwë.

 

“My throat was raw, the mists poisonous. I had to take great care to find pockets of cleaner air. In the darkness of the foothills I found many paths and encountered many enemies.” Fingon’s eyes narrowed. “It was not a pleasure to kill.”

 

Celegorm caught Fingon’s eyes. “How did you avoid alerting the enemy?”

 

“I tried to avoid the enemy so as not to alert Moringotto, and those that I did, I hid or made their injuries appear as one inflicted by one of their own, for they are vicious to each other.”

 

Fingon found himself in a trance, speaking more than he was accustomed to, but he felt compelled to tell the story. “The Shadow plays tricks on your mind,” sharing knowledge they all knew. “The poisonous air grew thick. I succumbed to it and lost consciousness for I know not how long, but came to after a time. My body hurt, I was starved. Luckily, I’ve endured such starvation and misery before.” Fingon looked up at Celegorm, anger shining in his eyes. Celegorm looked away and into the fire, understanding Fingon’s accusation.

 

Acharedel gently guided Fingon back to his story. “How did you find Nelyo?”

 

“After coming to, the day was clear, probably why I awoke once more. In fact it was day. Before me was revealed a terrifying landscape. I looked upon a series of cliffs that seemed impenetrable, their menacing heights reaching defiantly to the sky. As I made my way forward through crooks and crannies, I came to the wall of a cliff. The wall was smooth, not a hole, not a ridge, nothing I could climb. There were no ledges above I could throw a rope to. After hours of searching I despaired and so I sang,” Fingon shrugged when he revealed this part of his story. Amarthan and Acharedel smiled. In better days and not indicted Celegorm too would have smiled, knowing intimately how song and nature are intimately one.

 

Fingon continued, “I sang the song the River gifted me and it reminded me of a childhood tune from Tirion and so I sang that too. The songs gave me strength.”

 

“Which song,” Celegorm dared interrupt.

 

“I have not the heart to tell you,” Fingon answered. Observing Celegorm closely, he revealed: “Nelyo answered.”

 

Celegorm gasped, his eyes grew wide. He would be foolish to cry, but he could not resist the emotion.

 

Fingon confessed that Nelyo begged for death, his eyes fixed on Celegorm. “Full of anguish and without hope he begged for me to end his life, for what remained was agony.” Celegorm looked away. He could not reproach Fingon for indicting him so. “I am not sure if it was hours or days that passed, but I searched for any way to get to him, but there was none. How could I not answer Nelyo’s need in that moment? To hear his desperation, the manner of his suffering...No elf should ever sound like that. He begged for his death and I was going to give it.” Fingon choked up. Even still the memory of Nelyo’s wailing provoked such pain.

 

But Fingon forged on with his tale: “I whispered power into the arrow, crying out: ‘O King to whom all birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the Noldor in their need!’ I will never forget those words for Thorondor answered.”

 

Acharedel could not contain herself. That Thorondor came to him was almost cruel. “He answered a prayer?”

 

“Not a prayer,” Fingon corrected her, “a plea.” Acharedel settled and did not interrupt again. Fingon did not give too much detail of what happened next, simply describing that Thorondor bore him to Nelyo, but that he could not free him, deciding to amputate his arm to free him from the shackles. “He fell on to me and the great span of Thorondor caught us and he bore us hence. And you know the rest,” Fingon spoke, finishing his story. Celegorm did not know the rest. How were they received? He had so many questions but knew he would get no more from Fingon.

 

Fingon frowned, “I’ve not uttered so many words in some time. I am tired from it.” Fingon stood and made his way to rest, but not before offering his hand to Acharedel.

 

“Lord Celegorm sleep,” Amarthan offered. “I will take the first watch.” Celegorm accepted. He needed to sit with his thoughts. He would not do his job well as sentry so preoccupied. Acharedel and Fingon too knew their minds were elsewhere. Amarthan’s decision was wise, considering.

 

Acharedel looked up at Fingon, noticing his sadness and wear. She accepted his hand and he pulled her up. “Sleep with me under the stars,” he whispered, surprised by his own neediness. Fingon figured that his mood had been lifted being away from Nelyo. Fingon took Moringotto’s darkness into him, to relieve Nelyo. As a result of some of that weight being lifted, Fingon had room to feel vulnerable after recounting his journey to save Nelyo. But out here, with Endórë under his feet, Fingon felt those tendrils dissipate. He tucked this knowledge away, knowing this would be a part of Nelyo’s healing. Surely the green elves understood this.

 

“You are not alone,” she offered. Fingon smiled, placing his hand briefly on her cheek.

 

Celegorm observed the brief intimacy. He’d not considered that Fingon could harbor feelings for anyone. Whatever had been between Nelyo and Fingon was long dead.

 

The group rested and took up their journey a few hours before dawn broke.

 

)()()()(

 

The Gates of Sirion were impressive. Amarthan took copious notes in a field journal she kept. Fingon also drew a quick sketch of the gates, documenting how the river Sirion emerged from underground. Looking over at Amarthan he noted, speaking quietly “You take good field notes. I assume you will share them with my brother.” 

 

Amarthan looked up at her Lord’s elder brother. “Indeed. This is a task I was appointed to by your brother and your father.” Little did she know then that her observations would serve Turgon well when founding the secret city of Gondolin, a place she would meet her end.

 

“Of course,” Fingon observed recognizing that there would be more than one task accomplished on this journey. After all, Celegorm was likewise filling a leather bound book with drawings and notes. They all needed to gather as much information as they could on this journey to find the mysterious healer.

 

The group walked slowly for a few miles, eating some of the food they had hunted, their horses grazing.

 

“Are you disappointed we did not see any Pitya-naucor?” Acharedel asked Fingon.

 

Fingon glanced at her, before turning his attention to the forest that lay far ahead. Sighing he answered, “I was hoping for at least a glance, but alas.”

 

“Alas,” Acharedel repeated. “I have a feeling we will have a chance before long.”

 

Fingon smiled. This journey brought him some reprieve, though he knew Nelyo’s life still hung in the balance. Fingon felt guilty for having a semblance of excitement lighten his mood while Nelyo suffered, but he did not let himself linger too long on these feelings. He needed to focus on the surroundings around him.

 

Celegorm came up next to Fingon. They’d established a respectful protocol for the journey, letting Celegorm and Amarthan lead. Amarthan for her familiarity with the lands and Celegorm for his keen skills observing the land, reading the terrain. While they were all greatly skilled, Celegorm’s abilities were more than skill. He had a gift for it and elves did not grudge the gifts of others. Instead, elves were quite prudent in their respect. “We should ride fast,” Celegorm announced.

 

Fingon whistled for his horse. The others did the same.

 

Amarthan concurred, “Something comes this way.”

 

Acharedel did not sense anything. Getting on her mounts, she asked Amarthan, “I do not feel anything. What do you sense?” Acharedel was not challenging Amarthan’s observation, but wanting to learn.

 

“It’s a change in the feel of the grasses, do you not feel it?”

 

Acharedel shook her head, “I do not.”

 

Amarthan hummed a tune, though to mortal ears that would soon come it was a haunting thing. After a moment she asked Acharedel, “Do you recognize it?”

 

“Of course,” Acharedel exclaimed, “the song of the grasses of these meadows.”

 

“Indeed,” Amarthan answered, “but listen close and you will hear the slightest misregister in the song.”

 

Acharedel concentrated. Fingon too sent his senses to the songs of the growing things. Acharedel breathed in. There it was. So subtle that she did not register it for her unfamiliarity with the songs of the grasses in these parts. She looked at Celegorm, remembering that in better times, she marveled at his skill. Indeed she was not surprised with his ability to hear such minute patterns in nature, but she had long lost any respect for him.

 

“Let us ride,” Celegorm commanded. The group took off on their mounts, riding fast, but not pushing their mounts to their limit.

 

A dark cloud darkened the skies. Morgoth had sent out his malice, turning weather patterns on their head, bending the natural order to inflict misery. Of course Morgoth did not know of the group of riders going South, but it did not matter. His malevolence he sent to reach all the corners of free Endórë. And unbeknownst to the group he send groups of orcs south through a gap near Mount Rerir that would in the future be known as Maglor’s Gap. It was through this attack that the elves would come to know of the ease that land allowed Morgoth’s emissaries to lay waste to the southlands and torment the Green Elves.

 

They found the edges of Nan Tathren and took shelter there, but not from the great storm that had descended on them. They needed to make haste. The night would catch them in the willows that did not offer cover. The group decided to make for the cover of the Forest Between the Rivers, Taur-Im-Duinath in Sindarin. Something was coming. They could feel the presence of orcs and though the Forest was a place of darkness, so Amarthan revealed, they needed to find their target and make haste to return to Nelyo. 

 

)()()()(

 

Celegorm held up his hand, indicating silence. The elves quieted their steed’s under them. They were at the edge of the Forest that lay between the southern parts of the River Sirion and the River Gelion, fed by the many rivers that flowed down from the Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains, so named for their tall blue granite peaks.

 

Acharedel took her position next to Fingon, ready to defend her captain. Was it folly that they came searching for this healer to help Maitimo? Fingon should not have come! Why’d they allow it? Surely such a thought must have crossed Fingolfin’s mind. Sending his son to potentially lose him again? Acharedel’s thoughts threatened to undo her disciplined mind that she needed to focus on the encroaching threat. But she could not help to meditate between battle readiness and her thoughts. They lived in dark times. They would always be at risk. And seeing Fingon grow lighter on this journey, leave some of that darkness behind had to be worth something! That his time in the wilds of Endórë was a healing reminded them all that they needed to spend time cultivating that curious elven connection with Endórë and not tend to only war and mere survival.

 

“They’re coming!” Amarthan announced.

 

The group jumped off their horses. Mounted battle in the trees was not wise but they needed to keep them close for escape, but there was no time to send them away for safety. From afar they heard the rumbling of the orcs, previously disguised by Morgoth’s storm, heard their war cries. It was a large group and in no time they descended on the small group of elves. They were severely outnumbered. While these orcs were not sent to find them, it was clear this band of orcs were on the hunt. The orcs were not mindless brutes. They immediately recognized that they encountered a group of Noldor and grew in glee as they attacked. The leader shouted commands in a speech they could not completely make out though they could understand snippets.

“They want to take Celegorm or Fingon,” Amarthan cried out, being more familiar with the black speech.

 

“They will have to kill me!” Acharedel cried out! But their number was great, even for these mighty Noldor. The onslaught began and the group was surrounded on all sides. The orcs pushed them deeper into the forest. At least the elves could use the trees as sentries on their sides. At first the orcs showered them with arrows, many finding their mark on unprotected, but such wounds were not enough to stop a mighty Noldor! Fingon and Celegorm did their own damage with bow and arrow, taking down many a beast. Acharedel and Amarthan shielded their comrades their own longbows unsuited for close melee in heavily wooded area. Their armament had been carefully chosen, making sure they were ready for battle in open plains, close quarters, mountains. Indeed, battle had come. The elves had a thick grove of trees to their backs that protected them, but not for long.

 

Celegorm cried out: “They are hacking at the trees!”

 

Amarthan redirected him. “There is not much we can do but hope these old trees are hard to bring down.”

 

“Ahead!” Acharedel shouted.

 

The orcs drew their swords and descended on them. It was in this moment that Celegorm raised his voice, Fingon joining him. They could not spend too much energy on conjuring battle song for their were outnumbered, but just enough for Acharedel and Amarthan to slaughter the stunned beasts. They repealed the assault for a good while. The orcs retreated back and gathered once more, understanding fully that the elves would tire. They had the numbers on their side. Their attack began once more. All the elves drew their weapons and attacked, but the orcs closed in on them.

 

Acharedel stood next to Fingon and slashed and hacked, but she was growing tired. Amarthan took an arrow in her arm that caused her to falter, but she was quick to switch her sword to her good arm and keep fighting. Celegorm took a blow causing him to stumble. Amarthan jumped in front of him and Fingon quickly pulled him up, but in the confusion of battle Acharedel was separated from the group. Fingon fought valiantly through the horde to get to his friend. He was able to pull her behind him but that move cost him his own safety. While Acharedel was side by side with Celegorm and Amarthan, Fingon found himself surrounded. He wielded his mighty sword with renewed vigor, slashing and hacking way, but there were too many. Fingon was aware that the orcs were being careful, if such could be said, not to kill him. This did not prevent them from inflicting other wounds until his sword was knocked out of his hand. Fingon felt orc hands descend on him, holding him down. He could hear Acharedel and Celegorm yelling his name just beyond.

 

Fingon was dragged off, though he struggled mightily and managed to bite a hand, and break the arm of another, but those orcs were readily replaced by others. Desperately Fingon managed to see the other elves. The orcs that surrounded them were abandoning them to come help the horde that carried him away. Fingon continued to struggle and even without his sword, he was strong and could wield much power. It was then that Fingon heard Celegorm’s Song ring out. The reverberations sent shock waves through the orcs. Good Fingon thought. This meant Celegorm had time to collect himself to conjure song. He heard Acharadel’s song join his. Fingon’s heart was lifted and he grabbed onto the threads and thrashed and turned as they tried to carry him deeper into the forest. More and more orcs surrounded him and the forest grew thicker and darker until Fingon could no longer hear the songs of his companions. It was then that it became clear to Fingon that he now was a captive of the orcs who were surely taking him to Morgoth. What irony: only to dare enter Morgoth’s realm and release Nelyo was he now going to suffer the same fate, but something stirred and the orcs became alarmed. Something had spooked them and perhaps having a prize they had relented their attack on their friends and took to the forest to escape out the northeastern edge towards the eastern river valley and flee North towards Angband. Fingon feigned he was growing tired, but the orcs were too cautious to stop their march.

 

Finally the orcs stopped and Fingon calculated what he needed to do to get free of his captors. The orcs were hasty. They had not tied him. Perhaps they believed the wounds on Fingon serious enough to slow him. They should have learned better from Nelyo, but whatever the reason Fingon knew he needed to take advantage of their disorganization. He was thrown to the floor in the middle of the pack as a leader barked orders, reorganizing the group. Fingon used his strange elven eyesight to disguise his observation. He saw one retrieving rope from a pack. They meant to tie him up! It was now or never! He saw that to his right only two orcs stood between him and the forest. This would be the direction he would have to take to make his escape. Groaning on the floor, Fingon got on all fours and pretended to wretch. An orc didn’t like it and decided to kick him hard. Though it hurt mightily, Fingon used this mistake to propel himself towards the weak spot. Surprised by his agileness, two orcs were quickly taken down by Fingon and he found himself free of the group running ahead. He knew not what direction he was heading for the forest was dark and though Fingon tried to use his fëa to find the sea, the strange magic of the dark forest arrested his powers. The orcs were irate. Clearly these were not orcs that had dealt with Nelyo or any of the Noldor for the misjudged his endurance and strength. And so Fingon ran, but so too did the orcs. Clearly they feared their master more if they lost him so they chased after him and into the dark forest.

 

)()()()(

 

Their song faltered, sending away the few remaining orcs, but something beyond their song spooked them too. Acharedel shouted, but was held back by Celegorm. “How do you think you can save him?” Celegorm hissed at her. They were all badly wounded.

 

Amarthan sat on the ground tending to her wounds. Looking around, she observed, “The orcs do not often dare tread far into these forests for they fear what dwells within. We can only hope that their path into the forest has called upon the Guardians who dwell here.”

 

Acharedel pushed against Celegorm, “Coward, you will let them take Fingon like you did your brother!” she accused him.

 

Celegorm stiffened and released her. “Very well, go save him.” Rebuked, Celegorm fell to the floor, having a hard time catching his breath.

 

“My lord,” Amarthan scooted over to Celegorm whose condition deteriorated quickly. “Lady Acharedel!” Amarthan cried out, knowing the Noldorin maiden was an adept healer.

 

Acharedel stumbled over to Celegorm, her own wounds now burning. Celegorm was coughing up blood and his breathing was labored. Searching his body, she found the culprit: a dagger puncture to his lung. Acharedel mouthed, “You fool.” Conjuring a song of power with such a wound was perilous. Celegorm hadn’t retreated as she accused him, but now was not the time to consider Celegorm’s deeds. “You can survive this,” she hissed, tending his wound. She quietly sang a healing song for him and Celegorm weakly lifted his voice to join hers. Together they wove a spell that slowed the bleeding, allowing Celegorm’s fëa to begin the work of healing, though it would not be enough, for Celegorm’s wound was serious.

 

“Call for the horses,” Acharedel ordered.

 

“But the orcs,” Amarthan countered.

 

“Orcs or not, we need our horses to get out and hope to survive,” and find Fingon, she said to herself.

 

Amarthan whistled knowing that the horses that had dispersed would return to their masters, but surprisingly they did not hear a single one. Amarthan exchanged a look of horror with Acharedel.

“We are doomed then,” Acharedel whispered. She wanted to cry and scream and curse Nelyo. The irony that Fingon, if he survived, would soon meet his same fate. And it would be worse for surely Morgoth knew now that it was Fingon himself who dared go into his lair and snatch Nelyo away.

 

Night fell and Celegorm’s breathing was shallow, but he could speak. The Noldor were strong in mind and body after all. It was the strange bird whistles that caught the groups attentions. Celegorm’s eyes looked wildly about. The two women looked frantically about, fearing another attack. Suddenly before them a group of elves materialized from out of the forest.

 

 

 

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Chapter End Notes

According to some research, a horse can walkapproximately 40-48 milesper dayif they walked constantly for 12 hours a day. So it would take approximately 4 days to travel 200 miles. According to this site on distances in Beleriand, I estimate that the distance between Lake Mithrim and Nan Tathren is about 400miles. Since these are elven steeds, they have much more endurance, travel faster, and can also be made to go farther and faster by elven magic.