82: A Night of Crisis

They returned to the villa to find all in an uproar with people yelling and running about.

“Be silent!” shouted Olwë over the din that the servants were making. “Cease this noise at once!”

Such was the force of his command that everyone stopped and stared at him with various degrees of consternation.

“What is the meaning of this?” Olwë then demanded.

“Where are Eärnur and Iorlas?” Finrod asked almost at the same time, for he had noticed that neither was there in the crowd of elves.

“For that matter, where are Laurendil and Manwen?” Glorfindel then asked, his eyes narrowing as he swept his gaze about. “However they might be feeling at this moment, Laurendil would surely have been out here insisting on calm.”

Finrod, Gilvagor and Haldir nodded in agreement. Olwë spied the villa’s chatelaine and motioned her to step forward. “Mistress Faelivrin, perhaps you would be good enough to explain.”

The elleth gave the king a brief and nervous curtsey, wringing her hands, her face full of distress. “Lord, we tried to stop them, but there were too many and....”

Olwë held up a hand, “Mistress, from the beginning.” He glanced around, seeing the other elves belonging to the villa as well as the servants from the Progress with equally distressed expressions. He now noticed that a few were sporting bruises and several were even bleeding from various wounds. There were even three lying unconscious or — but no, thank the Valar, he could see them breathing.

“Let’s have the wounded tended to,” he ordered. “Mistress, I think we’ll remove ourselves to the dining room where you may tell us what has occurred here.”

Faelivrin nodded and led the way with Olwë and Arafinwë following. Finrod stopped long enough to issue his own orders to Edrahil, Eregil and Mithlas, asking them to stay and help with the injured. Being warriors they were used to treating wounds. Urundil and Eäralato remained behind to help as well. Everyone else who had attended the garden party made their way to the dining room. Calandil and Elennen stationed themselves at the door to prevent any interruptions.

“Now, Mistress,” Olwë said once they were all settled. “Start from the beginning.”

Faelivrin nodded. “It happened only a short time ago,” she explained softly, keeping her eyes on the floor before her. “I don’t know where they came from but suddenly there were two score or more ellyn, brandishing swords and knives, invading the villa, demanding to know where the Amanians were.”

“What sort of ellyn?” Finrod asked.

“Most of them were Noldor,” the chatelaine answered, looking up, “though there were a few Sindar in the mix.”

“Did any of them wear warrior braids?” Glorfindel asked then.

Faelivrin shook her head. “None that I saw, but then, I cannot claim to have seen all of them.”

“Is that significant?” Ingwion asked Glorfindel and the ellon shrugged.

“So what happened next?” Olwë enquired.

“Before I had a chance to answer, not that I would have told them anything to their advantage, mind you,” and she said that with a sneer and several of her listeners smiled grimly, “Lord Laurendil came out, apparently having heard the noise of the invaders shouting. At once, several of them leaped upon him, taking him down. Then the one who seemed to be the leader ordered the villa searched. By now, our own people were trying to fight back, but as I said, there were too many. In minutes, they were dragging Lady Manwen out and then Lord Eärnur. They even brought out that poor ellon who is ill and his friend and bound them along with the others. They seemed rather put out by the fact that no one else of importance was here and I refused to tell them where you were, though the leader threatened me with a beating. ‘I was a slave of Morgoth, toiling in the mines,’ I told him, ‘there is nothing you can do to me to make me tell you what you wish to know.’”

There were several raised eyebrows at that revelation and looks of admiration at this particular elleth who had survived so much horror.

“Then what?” Arafinwë asked tightly. “Did they take our friends?”

“Yes, lord,” she answered, “We were told not to follow or their prisoners would be killed. I do not know if that was an idle threat or not but I dared take no chances, so I ordered our people to stay where they were.”

“Do you know which way they went?” Olwë demanded.

She shook her head. Before anyone else could speak there was shouting outside the room. Faelivrin gave a startled gasp. “That’s Berethrandir!”

Finrod stood up and went to the door and opened it to see the young ellon arguing with the two guards who were holding him back. “Let him in,” he ordered, reaching out and taking Berethrandir’s arm and pulling him into the room before shutting the door.

“Where have you been, youngling?” Faelivrin demanded.

“Following the orcs who took our friends,” the ellon replied smoothly.

“That was very foolish....” the elleth began but Finrod cut her off with an impatient gesture.

“Reprimand him later,” he said harshly. “Berethrandir, what did you learn?”

“They went north through the woods for some ways and then headed northwest,” the youngster answered.

Gilvagor gave a startled oath. Finrod turned to him. “Is that significant?”

The ellon nodded, grimacing. “There’s only one place they could be heading for and that’s Cirith Amlug.”

“And are there actually dragons hiding there?” Sador asked with a disbelieving look.

Gilvagor shook his head. “No. It’s just the name of it. The cleft is a pass through the hills that run to the sea there. Someone decided that the shape of the hills suggested a sleeping dragon or something.” He gave them a shrug as if to say he had nothing to do with it.

“So what’s so significant about it?” Glorfindel asked. “Where does the pass lead?”

“Only to the sea,” Gilvagor answered. “There is a shallow cove and a shingle beach, nothing more and no boat would go there for there are jagged reefs and dangerous currents all along that part of the coast. But I don’t think that’s where they are heading. Those hills are riddled with caves. They could easily hide in them and it would be difficult for us to find them or flush them out. Also, they would be able to see us coming from far off.”

“How much of a lead do they have on us?” Finrod asked Berethrandir.

“Perhaps a couple of miles by now,” the ellon answered. “I only followed long enough to figure out which way they were heading, then came back here. There are no paths through those woods and they are burdened with prisoners who are bound and blindfolded, so they are forced to move slowly. And that poor ellon, Lasgalad, has to be carried, for he was only just coming out of healing sleep and is still too weak to walk on his own. I overheard one of the captors suggesting that they just leave him behind, but Eärnur pleaded with them, saying to do so would surely cause his death and if that happened they would receive no mercy from you, lord.” Finrod raised an eyebrow and Berethrandir nodded. “Eärnur told them Lasgalad was a friend of yours and under your protection. That seemed to give them pause.”

“A couple of miles, and they are burdened with prisoners,” Glorfindel mused, giving Finrod a significant stare. “We could catch up with them.”

“How far is Cirith Amlug?” Finrod asked Gilvagor. “Could they reach it before us?”

“It’s at least three leagues from here as the crebain fly,” Gilvagor answered.

“And longer by foot, no doubt,” Finrod mused. He glanced at his atar, as if seeking his permission though no words passed between them.

“Go,” Arafinwë said. “I will return to Lord Morcocáno and apprise him of what has happened.” He turned to Faelivrin. “Did you recognize any of them? Do you know whence they come?”

“They’re not from Avallónë,” Berethrandir replied before Faelivrin could give an answer. “I heard one of them say something about Tavrobel.”

There were exclamations of surprise and consternation all around. “Well, we’ll worry about that after we’ve rescued our friends,” Finrod said decisively. “Let’s gather our people and head out.” He opened the door and yelled down the hall, calling Mithlas’ name. The ellon came running, giving Finrod an enquiring look. “Mithlas, they’re heading for some place called Cirith Amlug.” The ellon muttered an oath, clearly understanding what that meant. “Berethrandir can show you where they left the estate. Track them for us.”

“I’ll go with you,” Beleg said, his voice brooking no argument.

“As will I,” Glorfindel said. “The Maiar taught me some interesting tricks with regards to tracking.”

Finrod nodded. “Go, then, and we will follow shortly.”

Beleg and Glorfindel left with Mithlas while Finrod set about organizing who else would accompany them. “If they number two score or more, we’ll need reinforcements,” he said.

“That will take some time to organize,” Ingwion pointed out. “Can we afford to take that time?”

“Do we have any choice, though?” Sador asked. “We’re too few here to be able to take them and we must remember the prisoners. They will be the first casualties.”

Finrod nodded. “That is my primary concern. We need to overwhelm them with superior numbers before they reach the pass or we will lose all advantage.” He turned to Faelivrin. “How many of Lord Ithildor’s people are former warriors?”

She shrugged. “Not many, perhaps a dozen or so.”

“If we send out a general call for arms throughout the city....” Sador suggested.

“It would still take too long,” Finrod said with a frown, “but it is our only option. We need warriors.”

“Then you shall have them.”

They all looked up to see half a dozen Maiar standing by the tall windows that overlooked the gardens. Ingil was there along with Manveru, Erunáro and Fionwë. Finrod recognized one of the other two Maiar, Ulcuroitar, who had been at the hunting lodge during the Hunt for him and Glorfindel. The other, wearing the blood-red surcoat and silver sword emblem of Lord Tulkas was unknown to him.

“Ingil?” he asked.

“Lord Irmo takes a dim view of his people being kidnapped,” the Maia explained. “He... um... asked to borrow some of us warrior Maiar to help with the rescue.”

“You could just go and....” Sador started to say but all six Maiar shook their heads in denial.

“We were told to play the game by your rules,” Manveru said with a smile. “Rather like when we went to Beleriand.”

“Then it’s too bad Lord Eönwë isn’t here to act as our captain as he once did,” Arafinwë commented with a wry grin.

Fionwë gave a short amused laugh. “Our esteemed captain is far too busy recording the oaths of Lord Laurendil and young Eärnur to help out.” There were amused chuckles among the other Maiar.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Sador exclaimed. “It’ll only take me a couple of minutes to change into more appropriate garb.”

“Me, too,” Alassiel said, rising from where she’d been sitting.

Ingwion gave her a jaundiced look. “Alassiel, this is no time to....”

“Findaráto has trained me to use a sword,” she said angrily, turning on her cousin. “I will not sit idly by when I can be of help.” Then she turned to Finrod in appeal. “Did you not tell me that Lord Oromë called me a warrior-maid?”

“A fierce one at that,” Finrod said with a smile. Then his expression sobered “Very well, Alassiel. You may come... as my squire. That means you stay by me and you do everything I tell you. Is that clear?”

Alassiel nodded, her eyes shining brightly. “Just let me change.”

“You don’t even have a sword,” Ingwion protested.

“She can take one of Ithildor’s swords,” Finrod said, but when Ingwion started to protest further, he shook his head. “Enough, Ingwion. We’re wasting time.” He went to the door and flung it open. “Calandil, gather all the warriors we have in the front courtyard. We’re moving out in five minutes.”

The guard saluted and Elennen went with him. The others started filing out of the room. “I will send word to Lord Morcocáno,” Arafinwë said. “He and the others need to know what has happened.”

Finrod nodded and went to change and grab his weapons. It was actually closer to ten minutes before everyone was gathered together. Besides Finrod, the others who would accompany him and the Maiar were Ingwion, Alassiel, Sador, Gilvagor, Haldir, Edrahil, Eregil and Urundil, plus the ten warriors belonging to Lord Ithildor’s household who had not sustained injuries. Lindarion wanted to go with them, but Olwë forbade it, stating that the ellon had no proper training in fighting and would only be a hindrance to the others. The ellon looked decidedly unhappy about it.

Finrod gave him a hug to comfort him. “Stay close to Atto and Anatto,” he whispered into Lindarion’s ear. “Help Calandil and Elennen to keep them safe for me.”

Lindarion gave him a questioning look but, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, nodded, seemingly resigned to staying behind.

By now night had fallen and the sky was brilliant with stars. None of the elves had any trouble seeing their way. Manveru indicated the place along the estate border where the kidnappers had fled with their prisoners and Finrod noticed a notch on a tree that one of the three scouts had left to show them the way. Finrod indicated for the Maiar to lead, but Manveru shook his head.

“We will flank you but you are the leader in this venture, Findaráto, by our masters’ decree.”

“Very well,” Finrod said and then he plunged into the forest with Alassiel right behind him as he had ordered. Sador was striding next to her and the others ranged themselves in no particular order. There was no actual path, so they spread out, making their way through the woods as best they could. Finrod kept his eyes open for more signs from the scouts, but it wasn’t really necessary. The invaders had not been careful in their passing through the forest and there were signs of broken branches and trampled underbrush that clearly pointed the way in which they had gone.

They had traveled thus in relative silence for nearly an hour when Finrod stopped, raising his hand. Everyone else came to a halt. Then they heard the trilling of a bird that did not live on the island, but could be found in the Forests of Oromë and in the Woods of Lórien. Finrod repeated the call and in a few seconds they saw Glorfindel loping towards them. If he was surprised to see six Maiar standing with Finrod, he gave no sign.

“They are about two miles ahead,” he said softly. “Beleg and Mithlas are keeping them in sight. I came back to let you know that they do not intend to go all the way to the pass.”

“Oh?” Finrod said.

Glorfindel nodded. “We overheard them speaking. There’s a dell or a ravine further along. They mean to go there, though I’m not sure why. From what I heard it seems this dell is more westerly than the pass.”

“Gilvagor, do you know this dell of which Glorfindel speaks?” Finrod asked.

Gilvagor shook his head. “No, but I am not entirely familiar with this part of the island. Cirith Amlug is well known to all who live between here and Kortirion, but as for any place else....” he shrugged.

“What about you Maiar?” Glorfindel asked. “Do you know of this dell or are you just here for show?”

“Insolent as ever,” Manveru said with a grin. “In point of fact, we do know about this dell and it’s more of a ravine that runs due west. It was an old river course long before any of you were born, but now it’s dried up.”

“Does it lead anywhere or is it just a good place in which to hole up?” Finrod asked.

“If they follow the ravine far enough, they will reach a place called Angobel,” Manveru told them. “It’s a small village consisting mainly of miners. The hills surrounding the town are rich in iron ore and other minerals.”

“Berethrandir said he heard one of them speak of Tavrobel,” Sador said then. “Do you think he mistook it for this Angobel?”

“Possibly,” Finrod averred, “but it’s not important. What is is that we need to reach them before they enter the ravine....”

“No,” said the Maia in the blood-red surcoat whose name they had learned was Cassantur. “You can travel above them. There was a forest fire on the north side of the ravine some time before anyone came here. The trees are still thin and there is little to obstruct you.”

“Will they not see us?” Gilvagor asked.

The elves could clearly see the Maiar all smiling even in the dark. “Not with us to hide you,” Manveru said.

“Then let us go,” Finrod said. “Glorfindel, lead the way.”

Glorfindel nodded and turned to retrace his steps, the others following. They went silently through the woods, moving as quickly as they dared in the darkness. About a half an hour later they met up with Mithlas who told them that Beleg was still following the kidnappers. “They turned west and dropped into a ravine,” he reported, “using ropes to bring themselves and our friends down to the floor.”

“Find Beleg,” Finrod ordered. “Tell him we’re moving to the north side of the ravine to follow. The two of you meet us there.”

Mithlas nodded and gave them directions before disappearing again into the woods. They followed and soon they came to where an ancient watercourse had plunged over a cliff. Mithlas and Beleg were waiting for them and without a word they crossed the old streambed to the other side of the cliff and then loped along the ravine’s edge. As promised, the way was clear of trees and they moved swiftly and silently under the indifferent watch of Varda’s stars with Cassantur now leading.

“For I know a good place for an ambush if we can reach it before they do,” he told them.

They made good time. Finrod kept hoping they would actually see the party making its way along the old riverbed, but the ravine widened out and they saw no sign of them, though the Maiar all insisted that they were somewhere below. Finally, Cassantur stopped and gestured.

“There,” he said, pointing. “That’s the best place for an ambush.”

Finrod and the others looked and saw how part of the cliff face on this side had crumbled, so it was lower than the rest of the ridge on which they had been moving. The rocks tumbled down towards the floor of the ravine and Finrod could see large boulders behind which they could hide. Across from them the south cliff was sheer. There would be no way for the kidnappers to make an escape that way.

“Can we block either end?” he asked.

“No,” Manveru replied, “but that will not be a problem. Erunáro and I will station ourselves unclad to the west and Ulcuroitar and Fionwë will be to the east. Once they pass that spur of rock they will be trapped.”

Finrod nodded. “Let us get into position then,” he ordered and shortly thereafter they were hidden behind boulders. Finrod kept Alassiel and Sador with him, while Glorfindel and Ingwion joined Ingil and Cassantur behind another boulder. Beleg, Mithlas, Haldir and Gilvagor were higher up, all four carrying bows. The rest were scattered about, only dimly seen by their fellows.

“Now comes that hardest part,” Finrod whispered to Alassiel who nodded, knowing exactly what the ellon meant.

****

Words are Sindarin.

Cirith Amlug: Dragon’s Cleft.

Angobel: Irontown.