11: Strategies from the Past

The next morning Hilderic met with Aragorn, Gilhael and the three Elves, along with his second-in-command, a taciturn older man named Heruthain. They were gathered in an inner chamber of the fortress which the Marshal had converted into a private study and office. There was a large map of Rohan hanging on the wall behind his desk. The villages of the Westmark and the Westfold were clearly marked. It was an impossibly large area to cover with only a single éored.

"You can see the problem I have right off," Hilderic said without preamble when Aragorn stood in front of the map and sighed. He nodded.

"You need twice as many men as you have," the Dúnadan said, "and even then it might not be enough, especially with Dunlendings attacking outlying villages."

"Most of the raids have been here between the Royal Road south to the mountains before one enters the Westmark proper," Heruthain commented gruffly, pointing to several villages that spanned the northern border where the River Isen flowed westward to join with the River Adorn. It was a narrow stretch of land, perhaps no more than twenty leagues in length where the distance between the White Mountains and the Isen was the shortest. "These villages have been set upon since the beginning of summer. Always they are attacked after our men have been past the village and always when they are just far enough away to be too late to effect a rescue. It’s almost as if someone is able to tell the Dunlendings where we are."

"Spies?" Aragorn asked. It was the most obvious answer, though he could see problems with it almost at once.

Hilderic shook his head. "None that we’ve detected and I can vouch for every man under my command. None would betray Rohan to Dunland. None have any reason to."

"What about scouts on the other side of the Isen?" Gilgirion asked, but Thandir shook his head.

"No cover," he answered. "Beyond the Isen the land remains flat for miles and there are few trees. My guess would be they are coming from the Westmark itself. Its people have never fully accepted the overlordship of the King of Rohan have they?"

Hilderic shook his head. "It was my first thought as well, but truly, I do not think that is where the main threat lies. The people of the Westmark are of mixed blood, true, and while poor, thrive well enough in their lands. They have no need to raid into the Westfold. No, I don’t think we need concern ourselves with the Westmark."

"And yet, the Dunlendings are getting their information from somewhere or someone," Aragorn stated. "From the sound of it, these raids are too organized."

"Especially for Dunlendings," Hilderic said with a snort. He sighed then. "My men are already stretched to the limit and the level of frustration keeps rising. The men my uncle sent with you will help but not that much. I need more men."

"Thengel has other concerns beside the Westfold, my friend," Thandir said slowly, gazing at the map. "You will have to make do with what you have."

"Fine advice, Elf-lord," Heruthain said with a sneer. "Any suggestions?"

"Heruthain! You forget yourself," Hilderic reprimanded sharply and his second blushed but did not apologize.

Thandir, for his part, merely smiled, lifting an eyebrow. His two companions’ expressions were unreadable. "Split the éored. Have them come from opposite directions. That might confuse whoever is directing the Dunlendings in their raids."

Hilderic shook his head in dismay. "We are too few to risk it. Even had I three times as many men it would still not be enough."

Thandir shrugged dismissively. "Well, that’s my suggestion. What about you, Thorongil? Remember you the lessons you were taught in Elrond’s halls?"

Aragorn gave the Elf an appraising look. "Better manners, for one."

Thandir threw back his head and laughed. "But entirely useless against Dunlendings, I imagine. Come, child, you can do better than that. I did not idle away a summer tutoring you for no good purpose when I could have spent it engaged in more important, and more interesting, pursuits."

"Such as?" Aragorn said with a challenging smile.

"Why, speaking to the trees and singing praises to Elbereth, of course," Thandir countered in a tone that implied that he was stating the obvious.

The other Mortals stood in open-mouthed bewilderment at the verbal sparring match between Aragorn and Thandir. Even Gilhael was shocked and feeling not a little nervous for his cousin. Elves, he knew, were a temperamental lot at best and did not always follow the rules of propriety that Mortals held so dear. He well remembered one incident while on patrol with Lord Glorfindel that even now, two decades later, left him feeling faint whenever he thought about it. Looking at his cousin, though, he realized that Aragorn had no fear for himself in that regard. Apparently, growing up among the Elves had inured him to such things. Gilhael wondered briefly if that really was a good thing.

"As I recall, you did that anyway," Aragorn said dismissively. "I do not see how you were discommoded, especially when you volunteered to tutor me that summer."

Now Celegrýn got into the act. "Estel, Thandir only volunteered because he managed somehow to break his leg and Lord Elrond refused to let him go back on patrol. It was either tutor you or spend the rest of the summer peeling potatoes." He laughed, as did Gilgirion. Thandir tried to look affronted but was not able to maintain the front and joined in the laughter. Aragorn grinned, but the other three Mortals just looked on in confusion at the swift change in moods.

"Regardless, child," Thandir finally said. "I know you know the answer. Quit stalling."

Aragorn turned his back on the Elf and stared at the map. No one else moved or ventured to speak. Finally, the Dúnadan nodded to himself, then turned back to face Thandir.

"Beren."

Hilderic gaped in confusion. "Your father?"

Aragorn turned to the young Marshal with a smile. "I am speaking of Beren son of Barahir who wrested the Silmaril from the Iron Crown of Morgoth, but before he did that..." He turned his attention back to Thandir who had stood there smiling patiently. "The Westmark is not Dorthonion and the Dunlendings are not Morgoth’s orcs."

"And yet..." Thandir said encouragingly.

"And yet," Aragorn nodded in agreement. He stole a glance at Gilhael and straightened somewhat, giving his cousin a hard glance. "Gilhael! Lasto na bith nîn! Echuio ar atholo ammen!" The timbre of his voice deepened with these words and there was a sense of power in them that the two Rohirrim had never felt before.

Gilhael responded as if someone had thrown cold water on him. He suddenly came to himself with a gasp and he swayed from the shock of it. Celegrýn grabbed his arm to keep him standing. Thandir frowned and went to stand before the Ranger, holding Gilhael’s head between his hands and gazing intently into the Ranger’s eyes. Gilhael tried to look away, suddenly frightened, but Thandir did not release him.

"No, child. Do not fight me. Let me see." Gilhael gave a slight whimper of resistance, then stilled, sinking into Celegrýn’s embrace as Thandir continued to gaze into his eyes. After what seemed like an eternity but was only a moment or two, Thandir released him, placed a hand on the Ranger’s forehead and said something too low for the Mortals to hear. Gilhael gave a shuddering gasp and then fainted outright. Celegrýn caught him and picked him up as if he were no heavier than a child.

"What should I do with him?" the Elf asked.

Thandir looked at Hilderic, who stood there in shocked amazement, unsure what was happening. "Is there someplace where he may rest?" the Elf asked.

The Marshal nodded. "My room is just across the hall," he said in a strangled voice.

Thandir nodded to Celegrýn. "Stay with him until he wakens." Then Celegrýn left with his unconscious burden and Thandir turned his attention to Aragorn. "That was not the first time."

Aragorn shook his head. "It’s happened once before while on our way to Rohan. I was able to call him back to himself, but it was not easy."

"Do you remember what triggered the last episode?" Thandir asked with a frown.

Aragorn shrugged. "We had camped for the night and were sitting around the fire. It was too early for us to set watches so we were both up. I started singing part of the Lay of Lúthien when I noticed Gilhael was no longer ‘there’. It took me some time to... er... find him."

The Elf nodded, deep in thought. "Do you recall what part of the lay you were singing?"

Aragorn shrugged again. "Lúthien dancing before Morgoth."

Thandir had a rather pained look on his face at that, as if he were remembering something, then he shook his head and sighed. "He was nearly at the Gates of Mandos before I was able to reach him and pull him back."

"But that makes no sense," Aragorn protested. "He is not dying and why would mentioning Morgoth..."

"Or Beren," Thandir rejoined. "Or the Silmaril. It could be any of these or none of them. I don’t know, but you will need to keep an eye on him."

Aragorn thought for a moment. "Do you think I should send him back to Imladris? If he is ill..."

"It is an illness not even Elrond can cure, Thorongil," Thandir said with certainty. "Sending him back will not help him. All it will do is shame him."

"But if he is a danger to us..." Hilderic broke into the conversation.

Thandir gave the Marshal an appraising look. "I doubt that he is, but certainly caution must be taken to ensure that he does not suffer such an episode while on patrol."

Hilderic nodded. "That’s easy enough to remedy. Since joining my éored, Gilhael has proven himself a good tactician and I have kept him here at Helm’s Deep with me planning strategy while Heruthain leads the patrols. I will continue doing so."

"He will not like it," Aragorn said. "I suspect he’s merely been waiting for me to join you before insisting on going out on patrol when I do. He’s very protective of me, you see." This last was said with a deprecating smile.

"Perhaps," Hilderic said with an answering smile. "Let us wait to see how he fares before making any decisions. What I want to know is what just happened."

Aragorn gave Thandir a sideway glance before turning back to Hilderic with a sigh. "I think he is suffering from...delayed shock. Last year... one of our villages was destroyed by... orcs. Gilhael...."

Hilderic raised a hand to forestall Aragorn, his expression a combination of shock and sorrow. "You need not elaborate, my friend. We will do what we can to keep him busy. Now, why don’t you tell me what you meant about this Beren and Dor... dorth..."

"Dorthonion," Thandir supplied. "A region of Beleriand that fell under Morgoth’s sway. Beren and his father, along with some others, became a band of outlaws who refused to leave their home and harrassed the orcs who now ranged through the highlands. Eventually, though, they were betrayed and only Beren survived."

"How does that help us with the Dunlendings?" Heruthain asked skeptically.

"We can play the same cat-and-mouse game with them that Beren played with the orcs and other fell creatures of Morgoth," Aragorn supplied.

"You mean, turn the tables on the Dunlendings and start attacking their villages?" Hilderic asked in surprise, a look of displeasure on his young face. "There is no honor..."

"There is no honor in dying at the end of a barbarian’s sword, either," Thandir retorted. "But I would not countenance attacking villagers, only the men who are raiding."

"If we can find them!" Hilderic said with some heat, his frustration evident.

Thandir suddenly smiled and Gilgirion said something in Sindarin that made Aragorn’s eyebrows go up.

"Leave that to us, Lord Hilderic," Thandir said. "Give us leave to join your next patrol and we will find your raiders for you."

Hilderic gave the Elf a jaundiced look then turned to Aragorn for confirmation. The Dúnadan nodded in affirmation. "I will go with them." It was not a question, nor did he seek permission.

Hilderic glanced at Heruthain for a brief moment and then turned to the Elves and Aragorn again. "The next patrol leaves tomorrow at dawn."

****

Aragorn was sitting by the bed smoking when Gilhael awoke.

"How long have I been sleeping?" he asked, taking in his surroundings.

"Half the day," Aragorn said, puffing on his pipe. "It’s past noon."

Gilhael scowled as he started to sit up. "Well, that’s just great!" he said in disgust. "Hilderic and the Elves must have loved my little performance. I shouldn’t have agreed to come with you, you know." His tone and expression was one of shame at showing such weakness before others, especially before his Chieftain and the Elves.

Aragorn stared at him steadily for a moment before he took his pipe out of his mouth. "You have had your moment of self-pity, Cousin. I will not permit you to indulge in it any longer."

"You won’t permit it?" Gilhael gave his cousin a scathing look then remembered to whom he was speaking. He closed his eyes and lay back down. "Forgive me, my lord. I fear I’ve forgotten myself. I meant no disrespect." He opened his eyes and looked at Aragorn bleakly. "Are you going to send me away?"

"Gilhael, I’m the last person to condemn you but self-pity does neither one of us any good. What happened, happened. I do not know what triggers these episodes, but I will not send you away. Thandir assures me that not even my adar can cure you. You must come to terms with what happened yourself. That is the only way you will find healing."

For a long moment there was only the sound of Aragorn quietly smoking. "So, what now?" Gilhael finally asked.

"You will remain here in Helm’s Deep," Aragorn said, then raised his hand to forestall Gilhael’s protest. "Nay, Cousin. This is not a punishment. Hilderic tells me you’ve been very helpful to him. You know our history as well as anyone. I want you to dredge up every scrap of knowledge you have about Beren and the outlaws. Thandir thinks it’s important and so do I." He gave Gilhael a piercing look. "Beren survived the horrors of Dorthonion alone before he found himself in Doriath. I want to use what he did against Morgoth’s minions to our benefit."

"And what are you going to do while I remain here?" Gilhael asked suspiciously.

Aragorn smiled. "Why, I’m going on patrol with the Elves. After all, someone has to keep an eye on them. You know how flighty Elves are even at the best of times."

Gilhael threw back his head and laughed. "Flighty indeed, and Thandir’s the flightiest of them all."

Now both men were laughing.

Standing outside the room on guard, Celegrýn smiled broadly at nothing in particular.

****

Lasto na bith nîn! Echuio ar atholo ammen!: (Sindarin) "Listen to my words! Awake and return to us!" [athol- "return", from ad- "back, again"+ tol- "come", with soft mutation and assimilation].