Valandil stood and checked his gear. He began to inch out onto the ledge. He never saw the figure looming up over the top of the trail, at the plateau's edge. Valandil was out of sight of the slope, when he heard someone following along the ledge. Hope flared anew, Dournil? He waited for long moments.
Another Rock Troll came into sight crabbing along the trail. It's bulk belying it's incredible agility on the small ledge. "Not again!" Muttered Valandil. With a snarl of vicious hate, it unlimbered it's great hammer, and raising it, sprang forward. As it sprang, it completely twisted in the air, landed, bringing it's right arm to the fore. Now it's front faced into the wall, instead of it's back.
With a resounding crash, it smote down on the ledge, causing it to tremble. Again it sprang, and smote with great impact. Valandil crabbed quicker along the ledge. Driven by fear, he tried awkwardly to draw his long sword. His knuckles rasped painfully against the wall behind him, he lost his grip on the sword's pommel. It fell back into it's sheath. It served as a wake up call. Ignoring the pain, he once again grasped and drew. This time successfully. The Troll, facing the wall, sprang forward again, then again before striking. This put Valandil well within reach. Fear pounded through him, almost forgetting he was on the ledge, Valandil started to turn to run, stopped himself and took a giant sideways lunge, mimicking the Trolls movements. The hammer came down again. The ledge trembled more violently beneath them.
Now the Troll changed it's swings, and swung sideways, pounding the wall itself. Shards and chips flew in all directions, cutting Valandil like small daggers. Foiled, the Troll bellowed and seemed to swell with rage and frustration. It swung horizontally again, powering more fragments from the wall. This time Valandil leaped back into the Troll's reach and ran a smooth cut across the underside of it's forearm. Incensed beyond reason, the Troll pounded once and again on the ledge, roaring out it's rage as Valandil sprang back out of reach again. The ledge seemed to flap beneath them, Valandil leaped back in and ran a cut across the top of the Troll's right thigh. Slam! came the hammer again and again and again. Valandil back peddled blindly as shards and chips shot out in all directions. He threw an arm over his closed and adverted eyes for protection. Once more he spied an opening and leapt, the Troll had caught on though, and reached a quick grab over his hammer. The great hand missed by the slimmest margin, as Valandil ducked, using the hammer to shield himself. Too close! The Troll dropped the hammerarm.
Valandil had to crawl backwards, shoulders first, butt down, sword clenched in hand and hanging over the edge. Screaming hatred drove the Troll forward, pounding and missing, pounding and missing, pounding and missing. The ledge began to flap violently again, Valandil's last resort was to cock back his sword arm and throw his long sword like a spear.
It struck the Trolls chest and struck deep. The Troll sat down hard. Flapping changed to a rumble as the ledge gave way entirely, sliding down the mountainside.
The Troll, had no chance. It fell backwards, tumbling over and over, smashing again and again into the mountain face. It's screams of fear and rage cut off before disappearing from sight. Valandil didn't have time to scream.
As the ledge slid beneath him he turned and leapt towards the unbroken section. He caught himself as his already sore ribs crashed painfully against the edge. With his wind knocked away, he clung and scrabbled as his legs swung wildly. Using the momentum of his legs, he managed to swing one up onto the ledge. Halfway up, left hand on the edge, left shoulder below the level of the edge, head above, and right arm and leg on top, he hung precariously.
By main strength, he began to pull himself up. The knives along the front of his baldric catching and stopping his progress. "Iluvatar's Children!" muttered Valandil as he used his left arm's strength to maneuver his body outward. The knives came free and his body rolled onto the ledge. Valandil scrambled up to a sitting position, and placed his back against the wall.
For long moments his heart beat so wildly, he thought it would explode! He drew laboured breath between his clenched teeth, his panting sounding like high pitched moans. Slowly his breath returned and he found the fear retreating also. His clenched jaw slowly relaxed as well. "Well," he surmised. "No pursuit from that direction will be possible,... nor will Dournil be able to return." He leaned his head back against the rock and closed his eyes. "I'm getting broke in of a certainty!"
After a span of time, he arose, and made his way back along the ledge to the slope above the horses. He didn't want to stiffen up, sitting. As he made his way down to the horses, his many aches and pains reasserted themselves. His knuckles hurt from the rock wall and his burned hand throbbed painfully, as the blisters had popped at some unknown point. His check hurt as well, blood had dried on his cheek and neck down into his collar and he stank!
Trolls blood, the reek of the flammable liquid, burned Troll flesh and his own sweat caused a most vile smell. He could not imagine what he looked like. Dirt, two colors of blood, ashes and cuts. Sore beyond imagining and starting to stiffen, his exhaustion levels reached maximum. Reaching the rock enclosed dell, he managed to find the entrance and fall through, spooking the horses with his smell and method of entry.
Gandemere studied the map before him. Though it was probably about sunset, the tent flaps had been dropped awhile back, necessitating candles and torches be lit. Shouts from outside, muffled by the tent fabric, brought Gandemere and the others in the tent bolting through the flaps. A lurid red sunset glowed in the West. The sound of horses at canter came from the other direction also. Elrond and Huthorin pulled up in front of the tent, from the lowering dusk. Men came forward to take their reins, as they swung off their mounts.
Wandering feet
Shouts from the soldiers of "The Prince?, The Prince?" and "Valandil?" told of the awareness of the men that he hadn't returned. Men gathered quickly around Elrond as he stopped short of the tent entrance, and turned to them. He held up his hands for silence. The faces he saw in the hastily lit torch light showed fear, love and worry for Valandil. The amount of concern these men held thundered home to Elrond. More than the greatest part of these men had seen the most fearsome battles of their time. Many had known the Prince and his family for years and had volunteered for this duty. The high regard they held him in showed plainly on their faces. Future leader of men indeed! To such love, esteem and loyalty, I must reply!
"Prince Valandil and Captain Dournil left this morn to scout the Southern crest of High Pass. They did not return to our meeting place. Watchers remain even now. Some activity was noted by we who were down in the pass. So it would seem one or both live yet. We will not abandon them! This I promise! Rest now for we move at dawn." Elrond spun on his heel and entered the tent. But searching would have to wait.
Elrond was making plans. The camp was rising, the new day was near. He summoned one of his lieutenants, "Overus, find a rested scout, sneaky, and veteran. Preferably one that knows this pass and other side of the mountains, including the river." "I know just the one!" he replied. Then was gone out the flaps. Huthorin entered then, "Fair mornings blessing!" he said as greeting. The stodgy little man didn't smile a bit. Elrond decided to lighten the mood slightly. "Blessing of a fair morn to you, Lord Longbeard!" He said with the best smile he could muster. A glint of humour showed in Huthorin's eye's. "Yes,...well.." Was all he could answer. Elrond swiftly pressed ahead. "We break camp soon, to begin the Northward march." He began. Overus ducked back in the door flaps, looking askance. Elrond nodded to him. Overus turned and half left the entrance again.
A few quiet words and he turned and came in all the way, clearing the way for another Elf to enter. This one wore the raiment and look of a scout. "Tierowyn, my lord." introduced Overus. The scout that he'd brought was a woman. Long fair hair braided almost to her waist, wound about by a leather thong. An eket, scabbard tied down to her leg above her knee, hung low at her side. A large hunting knife rode the opposing hip and throwing knives the front of her baldric. An Elvish longbow rode her back, along with a full quiver. Dressed in green and brown, with soft leather boots, she gave the impression of being able to disappear at a moments notice. Elrond knew of her skills. She was almost legend.
Beautiful, hale and proud, she snapped a salute, clenched right fist over her heart with a satisfying thump, back straight, feet snapping together. Elrond didn't much care if it was a he or she, as long as they could do the job! Overus was reading his mind it seemed. "Master, she is fleet of foot, hard to track, and likens to catching the wind! She is the quarry that graduates our students!" Elrond studied her another moment. "You are known to me." he said to her. Then waved her over to the table, indicating the map. "This is your mission." he said to her. She became instantly serious and professional. "You will travel to Minas Tirith, and deliver this report to King Meneldil's hand, personally."
So saying, he turned to hand her a tightly rolled and sealed small bundle. "Let me give you up to date details of our plans. We march North to follow the Orc forces and discover their mission and leader. I will personally search for Valandil and Dournil, then catch up to our Army. I have sent a message to Imladris for more forces to join us." Now he turned towards her and continued. "I don't have to tell you that this is valuable information. In the event of capture you must do what is necessary to protect it!" He looked deeply into her eyes to see if she understood. Awareness was readily apparent. Indicating the map he asked "How do you plan to travel?"
She didn't look again at the map. "I will cross thru the mountains farther South, then build a small raft and travel by the Anduin, to Osgiliath. I estimate a half moon of travel, am I to travel alone? Two can ride a raft non-stop, but for necessaries!" Elrond considered briefly, "Have you someone in mind?" "Yes, Lord!" she answered immediately. "Then I leave it to your experience. Leave when you are ready!" She took this as dismissal. "My life for my people!" With a salute she whirled and strode purposefully from the tent.
Elrond watched her go, and thought to himself, The spirit of a warrior is beautiful to behold, but must have proven a difficult road for any woman to tread. Women warriors are nothing new to Elves and Dwarves, but were much harder for Men to accept. Pity.
Overus stood nearby. He cleared his throat, seeking Elrond's attention. Elrond nodded to him to begin. "Lord Huthorin seeks council with you my lord." "Now is a good time, show him in." Huthorin strode thru the flaps. "Lord, I wish to take council on our plans." Huthorin stated. "Have you something in mind?" asked Elrond. Only that I wish to go in three directions! What do you plan? Elrond considered briefly then answered. "At dawn our army moves to follow the Orcs. At this time information is what I seek. We will pass well away from the mouth of the pass. At that time I will leave the host to check on the scouts and hear their report, then I will follow the Prince's trail until I find him."
Care you for another set of hands and eyes? Asked Huthorin. But I am torn between searching for the Prince and Elder Dournil and making sure that not only did my people receive and believe your messenger, but have taken appropriate action. Sending an army is what I believe this situation calls for! "Let us see what the day brings first, Master Dwarf, Then your course will be more clear.
Moves
Gandemere was brushing Myras. Speaking softly and slipping her treats. She was all he had for family. He had survived a goblin raid on his village at the age of 14, and had helped lead the surviving women and children to the High King's tower. There he had gained notice of King Elendil and had been offered a position as stable boy. As he matured, he'd joined the army of House Elendil and climbed thru the ranks during the War of the Last Alliance. He'd fought in the battle of Dagorlad, seen the battle in which Anárion had fallen. Then a season later the very earth had cried out when Gil-Galad and Elendil were both lost in the same battle. Yet that day had been the most momentous ever! Isildur struck the One Ring from foul Sauron's hand and felled him, and the siege of Barad-Dur had ended with the breaking of the tower!
He'd gained a commission as Captain during the seven year siege of Barad Dur. When he'd heard of the disaster of the Gladden fields, he'd applied for and received command of Valandil's guards. He then set about building the company in to a fine fighting force, and made sure Valandil's instincts were properly honed. House Elendil had been his family for so long that he felt that this was where he belonged, swearing to himself that he'd see Valandil come in to his own. He'd never forgotten Elendur and Ciryon's kindness the day they came to assist the survivors of his village. Unfortunately, his blood family hadn't been among them.
His hate of the dark races knew no bounds and he was glad to kill as many as possible. One day they would kill him, he knew, so he wanted to take as many with him as possible. He hid this hate well, but some could see through his facade. Elrond, Dournil, Valandil, Overus and lovely Tierowyn, to name a few. He wanted to repay House Elendil for all they'd done for him, employment, keep, decent treatment as a mere stable boy all the way up to his present position.
This is loyalty! Now by seeing Valandil in to his own, he felt that, maybe, if he still lived, when Valandil didn't need him as a Captain anymore he might retire to some small holding and raise horses for him. And here was his first brood mare, he thought patting Myras. It would be hard to find her a worthy stallion!
He did have one secret, or so he thought, Tierowyn. With a fiery warrior spirit to match his own, he was quickly losing his heart to her. He smiled as he patted. He would have been appalled to learn that fully a quarter of the combined army knew this "secret . " He had been trying to keep it hushed up. She hadn't. Though it was unusual to see elf and man in this way, it wasn't unheard of. Now, a new, unknown threat to peace had raised it's ugly head, and plans of a peaceful life ended. The dark ones again! How many could there be in this world! The sooner killed, the better! His rage began to stir .
"Fair Morn, Captain." His reverie was broken and he turned to behold a footman of infantry. "Fair morn, how mayst I be of service?" he replied. The man held a folded message out to him. "A message from the scouts, Captain!" Gandemere accepted the message. "My thanks Goodman!" The soldier gave salute and wheeling, marched off. His rage forgotten for the moment, he opened the message and read in a woman's flowing script;
Guard Captain Gandemere
Dear heart, please bring thy golden thisps to the rear of the officers mess with all dispatch. I must away on a mission of length and importance.
T
Suddenly the day seemed brighter, false dawn seemed like noon! And the sun not up yet! He stowed his gear and departed. As he strode through the camp, his mind was far away from faces that turned toward him searching for some sign. A sign of hope or news. Some might have known the direction of his thoughts by the slightly vacant expression and the length of stride. The earliest risers were waking and starting about their mornings as the sky lightened in the east. Soon all would be up and breaking camp. "What news , Captain?" called one of the men, as Gandemere passed. Gandemere didn't answer because Gandemere didn't hear.
At the officers mess, several junior officers snapped salutes as he passed. As he disappeared around the corner, they rushed back inside, pushing and shoving, laughing silently. They rushed silently to the rear wall and quickly found seats. Affecting great innocence, they waved for hot drink and settled down with open ears. This wasn't the first meeting behind the tent.
Gandemere rounded the rear corner, a cloaked and hooded figure stood a few rods away. Gandemere's heart began to beat faster, and his blood ran hotter in his veins. The figure turned to him and waited. He stopped in arms reach. Slowly the cloaked figure raised it's arms and lowered it's hood. It was her, of course. With the light of tenderness in his eyes and care in his touch, slowly, as if to make linger the moment, he reached out to caress her cheek. As his fingertips brushed her cheek, she appeared to tremble ever so slightly, her breath caught in her throat momentarily. She clasped his hand, nuzzling into the palm with her eyes closed. Then she returned his deep, searching gaze. Then they came together, lips seeking, finding, meeting.
Finally, breathless at the last, they parted. Their arms remained wrapped around each other. "Dear heart, I leave for Gondor before the sun. I do not know when I shall set eyes on you again! I bear messages to King Meneldil." She whispered breathlessly. "We shall see each other again do not fear! This I know to be true with all my soul!" Gandemere came back. Smiling, She shot back. "Well are your instincts known! So, too, shall I trust! Her smile dazzled him, as usual! The scent of her caressed him, filling him. She had a way of making him feel like a whole, virile man. He loved her for that and many other reasons. Soul mates, unspoken but always recognized!
Catching up her hand, he raised it to his lips. Strong and soft at the same time, like a fine grain leather, he marveled over it briefly. He lifted his eyes to hers and chose words carefully. "My Lady, I shall miss you terribly! My very heart breaks at the thought of your absence. The longer we come to each other, the fonder I have become of you. With your leaving, I find I needs must speak my heart. Never have I found a lady I hold as dear! I have been considering discussing plans of a peaceful life. But again, they are snatched from me, seemingly!" Gandemere paused for breath.
"Speak more plainly!" she implored him. Her eyes burned with focused intensity. She knew what was coming! "Know then lady that I love you as the Eagle loves the air, as the bee the flower! The Moon the Sun! As The One loves his children!" Once begun, his feelings tried to pour out at once." I'm not practiced at smooth speech and gentle words, but I love you!"
Now Tierowyn pushed forward slightly, emotion burning in her eyes like a torch in high wind. There has been so little time for us to grow together! Know, my soul mate, that I too, have come to love! I love you, there is no doubt in my heart! A life of peace seems a dream from long ago or the unseeable future! I had no thought of it for so long! You have kindled that dream again for me. Glad I am to hear you speak to me of love and life! If we should survive that which is before us, then this dream mayhap shall come to pass!"
"Aye, let us survive first, my Elven Lady! Though other thoughts wanted to express themselves, he wrapped her up once again and they crushed each other in a long and passionate kiss. Gandemere continued, smiling. But my love will carry me through! I have enough for two!
"I have my own and need no more! Keep yours for our next meeting! Keep this as well!" She pressed a chain and locket into his hand and closed his fingers around it. He raised her hand to his lips once more,
"Think of me when the chance occurs." Tierowyn faced him with a direct look. "Though I bid you do not think less of yourself if you find the chances come but rarely. For I would that survival came first!"
Gandemere slid a wide silver bracelet from his wrist, wrapped in leather for battle. An Orc blade had scored it during the battle of Dagorlad Plains, saving his hand, and probably his life. "This was given to my mother by my father, she to me. I give it to you as a token of the truth and love between us!"
Tierowyn stepped back, clutching the bracelet to her bosom with both hands. Words of refusal failing, she managed to stammer. " Now our duties call us to service! Think of me and the words that have passed between us, dear heart! Remember hope when all is dark." Emotion rippled across her face as she spoke.
Gandemere replied. "I shall never forget! We will meet again! This world or next. I shall find you out. "I will hold you to that vow!" She graced him with her dazzling smile. Flipped up her hood and faded away into the camp.
As he rounded the corner, Gandemere paused to fasten the chain of the locket around his neck. He noticed as he did, the mountings for the chain were wrapped with golden-brown locks of hair. Her presence engulfed him. And the smell of her, like new leather, a mountain vale of wildflowers and woman all rolled into one. A dream, he thought. I have lived to love! When I had thought all I'd ever have was vengeance, hate and killing. But more evil has reared up to foil my plans! Orcs and half men and their allies will pay dearly, when the time comes.
Perhaps a quick cup of coffee or something hot before the tent was broken down. Entering the tent he noticed a group of young officers at the back, looking quite subdued. One or two raised their eyes to him and averted them again, quickly. He was barely conscious of one who held his hand to his brow, covering his eyes, elbow on the table. Children, he mused momentarily. Probably about to heave up his food. Scared to be facing battle. He'll get over it, I was younger and got over it. He really didn't mark any more of their actions as he raised the locket to his nose a took a deep breath, smiling gently.