62: Battle in the Licweg

"Here," Gilhael said, pointing at one part of the cavern wall. "See how the soil here appears to be a lighter shade than the rest of the wall? And look. It only extends this far." He passed the torch before them and they could see how the lighter soil appeared to be the height of a door but slightly wider than two men standing together.

"I think you are correct," Aragorn said as he pulled out a knife and began digging at the soil in the middle of the patch, which was looser than the soil surrounding it. It only took a minute or two for him to dig a hole and then they heard a dull thud and the blade went no further in than half way to the hilt.

"There’s something behind here," Aragorn said. "Gilhael, see if you can breach the opening on that side and I’ll try again over here. Denethor and Wídfara, go back up the tunnel and see if there is any sign of someone coming. I cannot believe that whoever summoned the barrow-wight will not come to investigate its disappearance."

The two men nodded and made their way back to the upper tunnel while Aragorn resumed his task of opening the wall. They were doomed to failure though. Almost at the same time he and Gilhael both encountered an obstruction. Wordlessly they began to attack the wall again in different places, now pulling the loosened soil away until they found themselves confronting a brick wall. Aragorn tapped the wall with the hilt of his knife, trying to gauge its thickness and permanence. He shook his head in dismay.

"They must have replaced the dirt from the hole they had made so that at first glance it would not be obvious from this side that anything was amiss, then they built this wall to protect the secret of the tunnels."

"Could we dig along an edge and see if we can loosen the bricks enough to open the way?" Gilhael asked.

"We can try, but I suspect that it might not work." He gestured for Gilhael to take the right side of the brick wall while he took the left. They attempted to insert their knives where the bricks appeared to meet the unbroken wall, but after another frustrating minute or two they realized that the builders of the wall had extended the bricks past the actual opening.

"It’s no use," Gilhael said. "Even if we had the equipment it would take too long to break through."

"I wonder why they decided against using the licweg as part of the tunnel system," Aragorn mused as he sheathed his knife.

"Probably superstition or simple fear held them back," Gilhael replied. "Or perhaps an innate respect for the privacy of the royal family and their dead."

Aragorn nodded and started to comment when they both heard a loud hiss from the tunnel. They turned to see Wídfara there, motioning for them to join him.

"Denethor thinks he can hear someone coming," the Rider whispered. "I thought I heard something but couldn’t be sure. What of the tunnel? Can we not go that way?"

The two Dúnedain shook their heads. "The opening is blocked by a brick wall. We have neither the means nor the time to break it down. Come. Let us go to Denethor."

The three men made their way back along the tunnel a few tens of paces to find the Gondorian crouched along the wall, his sword drawn. He turned slightly at their approach. Aragorn knelt beside him along with Gilhael and Wídfara.

"I count at least three or four men," Denethor whispered to them, "but there may be more. The echoes are deceiving."

"What do you suggest?" Aragorn asked.

Denethor gave him a surprised look but answered readily enough. "By now the battle before the gates will be joined if our friends were successful. There’s no point going out. We should see what mischief we can make within Meduseld itself. If Thengel cannot take Meduseld, all will be for nothing."

Aragorn nodded, then looked to the other two men for their reactions. Gilhael gave a single nod of his head while Wídfara simply grinned, the light of battle glinting in his eyes.

"So the question is, do we take the fight to whoever is approaching or wait for them here?" Aragorn asked.

"They have the advantage of terrain," Gilhael replied. "They can defend the stairs while we would have to approach them one at a time."

The others nodded and Aragorn gestured for them to move back into the cavern. "Then we make our stand here," he said. "Douse the torch, Cousin, after we are in position. I suspect they will be bringing their own light with them so we won’t need ours. Wídfara, you and Denethor stay to the left of the tunnel. Gilhael, stay to the right. Try not to be seen until all of them are fully within the cavern."

"And where will you be?" Gilhael asked, his expression one of amusement.

Aragorn gave them a grim smile. "I’ll be right here," he said, going to stand before the altar where Éolind’s ashes still lay, leaning nonchalantly against the stone, his arms folded before his chest and his legs crossed. "After all, it’s only polite to greet our host, is it not?"

The other three grinned ferally, then Gilhael threw the torch to the ground and stamped on it and they were plunged into darkness.

"Keep your eyes half closed," he whispered loudly so they could all hear him, "so you are not blinded by the torchlight when the enemy enters the cavern."

Then they waited, but not for long. Perhaps five minutes passed before even Wídfara could hear the muffled tread of several men moving towards them. The tunnel was brightening with torchlight and the three on either side of the opening crouched as far back as possible to avoid being seen immediately, keeping their swords under their cloaks so the light would not fall on them and give them away. Aragorn never moved.

Denethor’s estimate turned out to be somewhat short of the truth. When the enemy entered the cavern, Aragorn could see that there were more than a dozen armed men led by one who appeared unarmed, though he suspected this was not the case. What surprised him was the fact that some of the men were clearly not Rohirrim, but had darker features, perhaps those of Harad, though that was pure supposition on his part, never having seen any of the Haradi. The one leading them was also a surprise, for he could have passed as one of the Dúnedain from his looks, though he was an inch or so shorter than Gilhael and his features were somewhat darker. He wore a dark robe the color of blood and his face was contorted by an evil glare as he spotted Aragorn before him.

Aragorn smiled. "Good morning. I’ve been expecting you." On a hunch he deliberately spoke Adûnaic and saw a fleeting look of surprise on the leader’s face which was quickly replaced by anger.

"Who are you? How did you come here?"

"Oh, I was just wandering about," Aragorn said lightly, "and decided to do some spring-cleaning when I found your barrow-wight. I’m assuming it was yours. Rather careless of you to leave it lying about for just anyone to find."

"You insolent pup!" the man screamed, the fury in his eyes making them smolder. "I will enjoy hearing you beg for death before I finish with you."

"I think not," Aragorn said coldly, uncrossing his arms and legs and reaching for his sword. Even as he drew it the other man gestured to his henchmen.

"I want him alive," he said. "He will do just as well for a sacrifice as did the old hag."

Swords rang out and Aragorn moved forward to engage with the two men who had flanked their leader. Torches were thrown to the ground as their comrades reached for their own swords, their light casting an eerie glow over the scene of the battle.

"Elendil!" Aragorn cried as he crossed swords with one of them, then ducked as the other came at him from his left. He quickly parried the attack and soon only one henchman was left standing.

The other men started forward but when one of them screamed, falling into their midst they turned in shock to see three swords slashing at them. Instantly, it became a melee. Gilhael had been the one who had taken the one henchman from behind, forcing the others to defend themselves.

"Eorl!" Wídfara yelled as he entered the fray, slashing with controlled fury at one of his own kinsman.

Denethor and Gilhael refrained from shouting anything, but went about the business of killing with grim determination in their eyes, their skill with the blade evidently greater than their opponents, for in short order, four more men were dead. Wídfara accounted for his man but came to grief when his rage made him careless and he missed a parry from another. His opponent, one of the dark-featured men, taller than he by a head, grinned evilly as he thrust past Wídfara’s sword and stabbed him. Only the fact that at the last minute Wídfara was able to twist his torso so that the sword slid into his left side rather than into his belly saved him from an agonizing death. The pain was beyond anything he had ever experienced and his screams echoed through the cavern. His opponent snarled in disgust at having missed such a clean shot but never got a chance to rectify his error, for Denethor was upon him, standing over the fallen Rider and with a quick flick of his wrist the Gondorian had the man unarmed.

"Morgoth take you," he said scathingly as he beheaded the man. Before the body even began to fall, he reached down and dragged the now unconscious Wídfara away from the fray, standing before him to protect him while the enemy came at him. He could see that Aragorn had taken the second man and was fighting a third, obviously trying to reach the red-robed leader whom Denethor had recognized as a Black Númenórean from Umbar. By now eight men were down, but that still left eight more. Three were attacking Gilhael all at once while Aragorn battled with two. Denethor had two as well while one remained at the Umbari’s side, acting as a guard.

He concentrated on keeping himself from being skewered while protecting Wídfara whose ragged breaths told him the Rider still lived. He did not know how serious the wound was but hoped the youngster would live. He had seen the mutual love as between brothers which Thorongil and Wídfara had for each other and knew that the Rohir’s death would be a great blow to the Ranger.

The Umbari was standing in the midst of the carnage, the fury he had exhibited before replaced by cold calculation. Denethor wasn’t sure, but he thought the man was mumbling something. Whatever it was, it could not be good. He gave a yell of frustration even as he ducked under the sword coming at him from the right and kicked out with his left foot at the other attacker, sending him into the wall. Coming up, he slashed at the midriff of the first man, sending him into death’s embrace, then did the same with the other man who was struggling to regain both his breath and his sword. Then, he picked up a rock and hurled it at the Umbari, hitting him on the side of the head.

The man gasped in pain as he lurched forward, saved from falling by his guard who grabbed him, then dragged him backwards toward the tunnel, yelling, "The lord has been hit. Retreat!"

At once the two men still fighting Gilhael and the one fighting Aragorn broke off their attacks and fled after the guard and their lord. Both Gilhael and Aragorn made to go after them, but Denethor stayed them with a shout.

"No! Wídfara has been struck down. He needs aid."

Aragorn gasped as he went to the Rider, for he had not known that Wídfara had been wounded. The young man was still unconscious, his life’s blood seeping out of the slash on his side, staining his leather vest and the ground beneath.

"Wídfara!" Aragorn cried. "Sweordbroðor!" But Wídfara did not stir, though he gave a soft moan when Aragorn attempted to examine the wound. "It missed the vital organs," he said in a whisper to Gilhael and Denethor, "but he must be tended to immediately. He’s lost too much blood."

"We can’t take him with us if you mean to follow the Umbari," Denethor pointed out.

Aragorn gave the Gondorian a surprised look. "Is that what he was? A Black Númenórean?"

Denethor nodded. "We of Gondor have had long dealings with the pirates of Umbar."

"They have ever been in league with Sauron," Gilhael said. "I sensed some black power in this one. I deem he may be a practitioner of the dark arts."

"Be that as it may, we must think of Wídfara first," Aragorn said, staring down at the younger man, his expression troubled as he attempted to staunch the flow of blood. "We need to get him out of here."

"Yet, if you will abide by my rede," Denethor replied, "the Umbari must be stopped. He was attempting some spell when I hit him. He could still do much harm to Thengel’s men if allowed to roam free."

"What then do you suggest?" Gilhael asked.

"One of us takes Wídfara through the cemetery entrance while the other two go after the Umbari," Denethor said.

"I will take Wídfara, then," Gilhael offered, "and open the licweg to Thengel’s men. The enemy won’t be expecting an attack from this quarter."

"Are you sure?" Aragorn asked with some concern.

Gilhael nodded, already hefting the still unconscious Rider onto his shoulder as he stood up. "Thengel’s men know me. Hopefully I can convince them not to shoot before I am able to identify myself to them."

"Go then," Aragorn said, rising as well. "iMelain ah ci. Warn the men not to disturb the ashes on the altar as they pass through."

Gilhael nodded. "Araw ar Tulcas dirir i megil gîn,’ he said, then took the torch that Denethor had retrieved for him and set off.

Aragorn watched his cousin disappear down the tunnel with Wídfara, his eyes dark with worry for them both. Denethor, meanwhile, had retrieved a second torch. "Come," he said, handing the torch to Aragorn. "There is a necromancer we must stop before he has a chance to do more harm."

Aragorn nodded. "Let us go, then," he said. Together Dúnadan Chieftain and the future Steward of Gondor strode back up the tunnel, leaving the dead behind.

****

All words are Sindarin.

iMelain ah ci: ‘The Valar be with you’.

Araw ar Tulcas dirir i megil gîn: ‘Oromë and Tulkas guard your swords’.