Journey Resumed


Glorfindel was much in evidence when the preparations were being made for departure. He stood with Gundor and Dairuin and the idling watchers, interested in how many days the journey would last, how many and which horses would go, how much grain would be carried for fodder.

"It is five long days of travel to Athrad Lumren, and five beyond that to Echad Randir," said Magor. "We have nine mounts to ride, and six horses will go to serve as pack animals, and some can be used as spare saddle horses to rest the others. We will carry supplies to take us to Arthrad Lumren, and enough for an additional day for us, two extra days grain for the horses."

Glorfindel approved of this plan. The people could hunt or go hungry at need, but if the horses could not travel at good speed, the difficulties would compound.

Watching the horses readied within the crude enclosure, Glorfindel's eye was caught by a dark bay. The horse tossed his head and was brought up short by the handler's tug on the lead rope as another man strapped a pack saddle into place. Glorfindel commented, "This one seems no pack horse - with his size and temperament surely he would be more suited than others to carry a rider?"

Gundor's face soured. "So I thought when I bought him from travelers who told of a hard ride, claiming him in need of a rest, and said they could not tarry to allow it. I could see he had no serious hurt, and thought to have good breeding stock and a good horse to sell to those of the north who might see battle. Dagnir is skilled with horses, but barely escaped grave injury. He was sore hurt and suffered drinking Ithwen's bitter potions for weeks, and was most fortunate that it was not worse. This one tried to bite, then to smash him against fences, houses, anything to rid himself of the man on his back. He is strong and fast, and has much stamina, but it does us little good as he will permit no one to place bit and bridle on him, nor will he suffer a rider. We will not get his worth."

The Elf had moved along the fence to where the fractious bay stood, and reached a hand to his cheek. The men working close by took a step away. "He seems calm enough," said Glorfindel. And indeed, the bay now seemed content to be scratched behind the ears.

"Now, he is calm. Let any other here approach him so, and he will not seem so calm."

"And the breeding?"

"Oh, he is willing enough for that! We will have some of his get soon, but I hope their temper is better. We may hope also that he behaves on this journey, as none of the mares are in season."

"Has he no name?"

Gundor was somewhat embarrassed, and glanced at one of the other men who loaded the horses. "Dagnir was very angry when he was hurt. I'm afraid the name given is not fit for the ears of guests."

Glorfindel studied the animal, then looked to Gundor for permission. "May I try?" he asked.

Gundor snorted, echoing the horse. "I'll trust that you will not waste our hospitality by allowing him to harm you."

Glorfindel grinned, and swung himself easily over the fence. Approaching the bay slowly, he put a hand alongside the horse's head, and murmured to him in a strange musical language. He removed the pack saddle that had just been loaded onto the broad back, and after a few soft words and strokes to the broken white stripe that graced the forehead, he led the horse from the enclosure with no more than his hand on the horse's neck. The villagers around stared, and most stepped back several paces when the bay was led out. Glorfindel leapt upon his back easily and sat, speaking still in a soothing tone. The bay stood, calm and steady, ears up as if to catch the strange music from his rider.

"I will name him Galvorn, for the metal that is as hard as steel of Dwarf-make, supple, and shining black as the mane of this noble one."

Some of the villagers watched as the preparations continued, waiting to see if the spirited bay would revert to his previous ways. To the disappointment of some, he made no effort to rid himself of his rider, and when all was arranged and the party set out, he was well behaved on the trail.

They made good time that day. There were no newly fallen logs to block the trail, the sun was sweetly warm, and the scent of the sea followed them. Dairuin stopped the group before dusk where a small clearing by the river showed a used stone firepit and a wooden trough for the horses.

"It is easy tonight, in this camp. Tomorrow night and the next there will be no such luxury, but on the fourth night we will be close to Arthad Lumren and there will be a set place." The horses were rubbed down and picketed, a meal cooked, and idle talk flowed here and there.

Dairuin turned to Glorfindel's question: "Will we meet others on this journey, in friendship or in battle?"

"There are Men here," he replied "but few, and scattered. We are not likely to meet friends until Athrad Lumren, unless a party ventures from the town.

"The Wildmen also know this land, and at times prey upon travellers. Most trips we are fortunate enough to avoid them. And their parties are seldom larger than ours, so we have a fair chance against them should we meet, but some years trading parties have lost horses, and even men to their raids."

"What is their way of fighting?"

"I cannot tell you; I know only a little of them. Magor served in the guard of Arthrad Lumren, and is the most experienced warrior of our group."

Magor now joined the conversation. "I don't really know of my own experience, although I have heard a few tales."

Turning to him, Glorfindel asked, "Have you heard aught of what weapons they favor?"

"From what I hear rarely do they have swords, unless taken from those they attack. They use the short bow, and most have knives."

"And do they come upon a party in force, or secretly steal upon their prey?"

"They do not attack directly, but rather lie in wait or creep stealthily upon their victims."

The questions continued, drawing out knowledge from both Magor and
Dairuin that they did not realize they held. He asked whether the Wildmen had greater comfort fighting in the woods, or in the open? Did they lurk in the rocky areas, or prefer dense forest? Had they been known to use horses? When victorious, what did they take from the camps or remains of their foes?

"You ask so many questions about them," Dariuin said, "do you feel something amiss? I know your senses are keener than ours."

"No, I feel nothing amiss now. I but take this chance to consider the matter ahead of any need. One may always plan better at leisure, and knowledge of one's opponent is never wasted. Even if a warrior never faces that enemy, the consideration of how victory may be achieved trains one to think in this manner in other battles."

Dairuin's eyes held respect, and Magor looked very thoughtful. The younger men, having finished supper, were arguing the merits of various horse breeds among themselves, and paid little heed once Glorfindel had denied an immediate threat.

"Magor, you have told me much of use about these Wildmen. Your knowledge is greater than you thought. Now let us think as they do, to see what we would plan if in their place." Magor immediately became caught up in this new understanding of his craft, but others rapidly tired of such talk.

Dairuin looked to Glorfindel. "Will you teach us the use of sword and bow as you know them? For surely your people have skills different than ours."

Glorfindel nodded. "I will teach you gladly. " He looked at the Men grouped around the fire and asked, "Who here bears a sword?"

Aside from Dairuin and Magor, only one other Man had a sword, the rest knives and bows only, but all were eager to learn. The Elf had each demonstrate what he knew.

"Show me the positions of defense." The would-be swordsman hesitantly swung. Glorfindel stopped him, saying "Wait." He went into the woods and after some minutes returned with branches, smooth and straight and about the length of the sword, handing one to Amlach.

"Those are as toys for children!" said Amlach.

"So I would start any under my command who had scant experience with the sword. But if you wish to spend all spare time sharpening a dulled edge, and risk irreparable hurt to your noble blade, so be it."

The Man glared at him, then seeming to realize others thought him a fool, smoothed his expression.

"Begin," said Glorfindel. He watched. "You are using your wrist. It will give you more control then the arm, but less power. Thrust instead with the arm."

After several corrections Amlach snapped at him, "It means nothing to me, what you are saying. Show me!"

To his apparent surprise, Glorfindel did not reach for his sword, but picked up one of the piled branches, and moved to stand opposite. He held himself very still, with the branch up, and when he did move, his whole body seemed to be behind his movement, so that Amlach's guard was overpowered and he looked, dismayed, at the branch tip resting against his midsection. "It is common to those who begin training with the sword to worry about delicate control. But it is more important to learn to transmit force through your weapon. Delicate control is for later, and for those who do this for play and sport without intent to harm." Their faces showed that this was an alien concept. "You must learn to do harm, as much as you can, or you will not stay alive through a fight."

The sword lessons continued. The Men were amazed at the breadth of knowledge glimpsed behind the brief instructions. Dairuin had expected lessons on holding a sword, positions and movement. These were given, along with comments on more subtle matters.

"You must have a care for your distance from your enemy. The space you create between you must be ideal for your weapon, not his. Do not give him control of the distance, for then he controls the fight, and thus the outcome."

At the end of that first sword lesson Dairuin asked, "Do you shoot as well as you use the sword?"

"I have some skill with a bow, but not so much as with the sword. There were some in the Hidden City that could better my shots."

"The Hidden City? I do not know it, where does it lie?"

"Gondolin, the Fair. It is lost now, merely a memory and legend among my people." He would say no more, but the next night Glorfindel began to teach technique of the bow as well as the sword.

The men all had bows, not long war-bows, but smaller bows with the broad tipped arrows of the hunter. Glorfindel had a longer bow, but said it was not quite as large as the great war-bows of Gondolin.

When Dairuin's eyes asked, Glorfindel handed him the bow to examine, and then nodded him onward to try it out. Dairuin was not quite so tall as Glorfindel, but tall enough among men, yet it was with great difficulty that he bent the bow. He felt clumsy trying to imitate the Elf's actions, pulling toward his ear rather than the more accustomed and easier pull toward the chest. With Glorfindel's help, he was able to imitate the correct motion, but it would be long before the skill came readily to his hands.

When it was full dark Glorfindel wandered away from the camp. Dairuin, not knowing if he should be concerned, followed after a time. The Elf stood at the river's edge, with his head thrown back and his eyes fixed above. Dairuin relaxed; there was no threat from that quarter holding his companion's attention. As he drew closer, he heard the rich, sweet voice singing:

A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-díriel
o galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, sí nef aearon!

"It sounds like the most beautiful birdsong on a clear evening when the mist starts to rise and the air is like strong drink. My heart wants to sing with you, though I do not understand the words. Is the song of joy or sorrow?"

He thought he heard a sigh. "It is both. My people remember the light, both when it was created, and now from afar. The last lines rendered roughly into your tongue would be:

"We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on the Western Seas."

"Do you worship the stars, then?" he asked, unsure of his ground.

"No, of course not, I but thank she who made them." Dairuin looked uncomprehending.

"Is she your Goddess?"

"She is Elbereth, a great one of the Valar. The Valar have much power over what passes in Arda, given to them by Ilúvatar the one. Do not your legends tell of them? They walked among us, in Middle-earth long ago, and now in Aman."

"We know little of the Gods who are said to dwell in the West, and many doubt their care for Men, and some doubt that they dwell still in Arda, or ever did. But you believe in her?" Dairuin asked, trying to understand.

"Friend," Glorfindel said softly, "our lives are so different that I forget. I do not need to believe in her; do you question if you believe in the rock that lies yonder? I have spoken with her as I now speak to you. The evil of Morgoth was not a legend to me, and the Halls of Mandos were my home for a time. There is little need for belief when you can not doubt."

The Man was silent for a time, and looked upward, the Elf following his gaze. Finally Dairuin said, "Your people must think we are as the Wildmen or the beasts in the woods, unlearned and barbaric."

"No, Dairuin, I do not think that of you. That there are such Men I do not doubt, but you and the folk of Ethir Varanduin that I have met are not of them. The Valar took those who fought and gifted them with Númenor. But I see now that those who stayed behind were left with a wounded land and a hard road. And, alas, I see a harder road yet at some time ahead, though it be not soon; no, I think not in the lifetime of the Men that now walk Middle-earth.

"Your lives and the lives of my kin in this land have not been easy; when the Valar withdrew oversea, those who remained were left to suffer whatever shadow grew from the seeds Morgoth had cast over Middle-earth. And your kin have lives so short, they had not even the memory the Firstborn carry to sustain them." He turned to the Man. "Come, it is time for rest." Dairuin followed him silently back to the fire.



When they stopped for the noonmeal on the third day, Glorfindel found a quiet moment to speak to Dairuin and Magor. "Something follows us. Not orcs, I judge, but something with ill intent."

"The Wildmen," said Magor. "We are near their woods now. If they do not strike soon, we will be near to Arthrad Lumren where they will not go unless in large groups. Last time they tried that they lost many, and I doubt they have forgotten." His words seemed to encourage him, yet still he looked uneasy.

That night, Glorfindel insisted on choosing the campsite, a thing he had not done before, seeming content to do his share but give no direction. Dairuin and Magor exchanged glances at his decision, but said nothing. He picked a low bluff that nonetheless was higher than the surrounding ground, and that backed on a deep and fast flowing section of the river. There were a few small groups of trees, but there also was a large area that was merely scrub, for the thin soil would not support more; and also here and there were places where the naked rock reared through to reach upward.

He left Galvorn loose and had the men tie five of the horses nearby to a group of trees. All the other horses were picketed nearer to the bluff edge on the other side of the clear area. As darkness fell he kept six of the Men awake, allowing only two to sleep at a time. There was some grumbling from Brandir and Amlach, quickly silenced by a look from Dairuin. At Glorfindel's direction, they had arranged pulled grass and spare clothes from the packs, cooking gear, the bags of salt - anything to make it appear that all but their usual single watcher slept.

"Magor and Urthel, you will be on the ground, Amlach and Dairuin will rest and then relieve you at next watch. Brandir and Baran will trade off as the one on watch by the fire."

Dairuin realized that Glorfindel had chosen those who had swords to be among the ones on the ground, and had left the best archers for the trees. Clearly, from the training he was well aware of strengths and weaknesses, and had planned carefully, placing the young and least experienced among them furthest from harm. "Dorlas and Handir, you will be up in the trees, ready to shoot. You may each rest in turn, but you will not have time to string your bows or make noise seeking arrows, so have all ready to hand."

"You are the best archer among us, shouldn't you be up there too?"

"I will be in the trees with you, but I will be needed on the ground rapidly. Don't shoot me." They grinned back at his smile.

Baran looked like he would protest his duties as Glorfindel turned to him. "We will depend on you to watch that they do not come at us from the other side. I do not expect it, but they may be clever enough to do the unexpected. We will have a signal should this occur - you will raise a torch in your left hand."

"Why a signal? Why shouldn't I just shout?"

"If you shout not all may be able to distinguish the words, and you will reveal to the raiders that they have been seen. If they are cunning, they will either attack immediately before we have time to ready ourselves, or they will leave to try at a different time or place. Better they should attack when we are well prepared."

They watched for hours in the quiet night, but still Glorfindel would not let any more of them sleep, only they might rotate which two rested in comfort. When the night was more than half done, with dawn but a few hours away, Glorfindel touched each of his companions in the tree. A frog croaked, not an unusual sound here, but it was repeated, and after a few minutes, repeated again. Dairuin tried to force his eyes to discern shapes better in the dim light of the quartermoon, an effort doomed to fail.

The shadows were moving in the trees now. His best estimate was eight men, doubtless Glorfindel had an accurate count. The shadows flowed toward the five horses, and they shifted uneasily, catching unfamiliar, but not yet frightening scents. Dairuin waited. Baran sat near the circle of stuffed bedrolls, apparently oblivious to what was happening 60 feet away; Dairuin thought that he would truly have been oblivious, had not Glorfindel warned them. He watched from behind the rocky outcrop near the bluff edge, ready with an arrow should one of the intruders raise a bow to loose a shaft at Baran.

As the vague shapes within the darkness came up to the horses, the frog croaked twice. A volley from the branches above the intruders picked off the first few to approach the horses, four of which were standing alert as the sounds of fighting reached them. The fifth, Galvorn, had startled and would have fled, but a few words in a soft voice had stopped him when he reached the other horses.

Some of the intruders melted back into the trees, the rest clustered together. A few hoarse words and those remaining were cutting ropes and pulling, even as arrows continued to find their marks. Unfortunately an arrow wound in an arm or leg would not usually stop a determined adversary, and these were determined. "Now!" cried Glorfindel, and he and Dorlas jumped down on the dark forms, grappling and stabbing. The remainder of the defenders, hidden behind the rocks, emerged, those behind firing as they had a clear shot, those in front with swords out advancing toward the knot of horses, ready to defend against any who should get so far.

Now all was noise and close fighting. Dairuin felt the sword in his hand more comfortable than in his few past fights; later he would think on how little the Wildmen could stand up to a coordinated defense. Now he noticed only the openings left by his adversary, and the shouts and cries around him. When he could look up again, Glorfindel was at the center, balanced and graceful, blade flickering in the dim quartermoon light. He easily defeated the Wildmen who stood to fight against him, but most were scrambling away. Handir's arrows continued to find targets from the tree above the affray.

With the ebb of battle from his position, Dairuin glanced around, trying to make sense of the chaos and reassure himself about his fellows. One was disregarding Glorfindel's instruction not to pursue the Wildmen too far from the main group. Dairuin swore as he noted the sword the other held; it was Amlach chasing his quarry into the trees. Then another dark figure appeared beside the retreating man and both turned to strike at the pursuer. Even as Dairuin was shouting a warning, Glorfindel leapt to Amlach's side and his sword was a shield for the overmatched man.

The rest of the defenders were in a group in front of the horses, a few of the raiders still fighting as they retreated, but most had turned and fled. One, realizing that he would soon be cut off from escape, grabbed at Galvorn to swing himself up, perhaps thinking that the untied horse meant a more docile mount. It was his undoing, as the big bay squealed, reared and kicked out, striking flesh. The would-be rider grunted harshly and ran to follow his fellows, and suddenly there was quiet - no more hoarse voices or ring of steel, only faint sounds in the trees growing ever more distant.

Dairuin's blood still raced, and he knew the group would not have fought like this even a few days ago. The weapons lessons had been some help to them, but more important was tactics - Glorfindel was right about the Wildmen. Right about how they fought: that they did not want to stand to fight but would raid and run, and if they could not succeed, they would flee. Their main strength was surprise; Glorfindel having deprived of them of that weapon, the traders claimed victory with little loss.

Dairuin was grateful for that last. He had lost horses before, and even men; to see a friend die was to lose a piece of oneself, and left him to mourn and question. Dairuin was almost as glad that no Wildmen lay dead on the bluff or in the trees. He would be content if they could travel here unmolested, with no need to fight those who were likely his distant kin.

Glorfindel's voice cut through the confusion. "Magor, Handir, follow them a ways and report if they start to double back! Urthel, You are on watch now." Yes, Dairuin thought, that made sense; he was one who had slept. The Elf was still speaking. "Who is hurt?" None volunteered information. "Brandir, see to the horses. All others, return to the fire." The blaze was built up, and Glorfindel had Dorlas hold a torch while he checked over each man. He ignored the declarations of lack of injury, rightly so as he found a long shallow gash on Amlach's forearm. After the scouts had returned and everyone was examined, Glorfindel washed and bound Amlach's injury. "Had we light I would stitch it, but it will do well enough."

"Will they return?" Amlach asked, respectfully.

"I think not, it would not be enough gained for what they would lose, and I expect they know this. If they are truly motivated by desire for the horses, weapons and stores, they will look elsewhere. Were they orcs, fueled by hatred, they would not cease to track us."

After sunrise, in the bustle of preparing to ride, Dairuin drew Glorfindel aside. "You would have known if the Wildmen still followed us, as you knew they watched us before we stopped for the night. Why send Magor and Handir after them?"

"Your company is not versed in the ways of war, and need practice. I will not always be with you." There was no apology in the eyes, only the assurance of an experienced commander.

Daruin nodded. The group mounted their horses and rode on.

As the day wore on they no longer had to look sharply for their path, it became a more obvious, well-used trail. That night, as if to compensate for the rigors of the previous camp, there was a clearing and a small lean-to with a trough for rain water, and it held a generous measure still. A stone fire-ring and a pole to tether the horses also heralded their nearness to more settled areas.

"Tomorrow," said Magor, "we will reach Arthad Lumren. It is a true town, not a tiny settlement like that in which we found you. We trade with many of the smaller towns, and when anything menaces, it is to our town that the others look for aid and direction. But there is also more mirth and comfort to be found there, and I will be glad to reach it!"

Many of the younger Men spoke their enthusiastic agreement with Magor's sentiment. Glorfindel reserved judgement on the merits of the various dwellings of Men until the morrow.