99: Death on Four Feet

There was no dawn the next day, though the snow had stopped. Glorfindel made his way up the cliff to check the land. The sky was thick with black snow clouds that threatened to unload their burden at any moment. All around him was white and even the wind had died down to a bare whisper so that there was nothing but the sound of the surf sullenly hitting the beach below him. The near silence was eerie and Glorfindel couldn’t help but shiver though he was not cold.

He returned to the camp, shaking his head as he settled before the fire, accepting the cup of tea that Mánatamir handed him. “It looks as if it will snow again any minute now,” he said with a deep sigh. “I think we should stay here until we know for sure that the storm is over.”

“A wise decision,” Mánatamir said as he took a sip from his own cup. “I do not know what your hurry is all of a sudden. After all, you said you had twelve years before you had to return for your friend’s wedding.”

Glorfindel gave him an arch look but the guileless expression that the other ellon gave him was too much and he found himself grinning. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “Yet, for some reason I have this feeling deep inside me that I am late. I do not know why. Late for what? I keep asking myself, but I find no answers, just this need in me to keep moving north, ever north.” He shook his head and sighed again. “I never thought I would return this way again.”

“It must be troubling,” Mánatamir said sympathetically.

Glorfindel shrugged. “It is what it is.”

Silence stretched between them and then without preamble Glorfindel began speaking about his trek across the Helcaraxë and the nearly fatal hunt with Calamandil that had sealed their friendship. He never looked at Mánatamir as he spoke, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the fire before them, his voice almost devoid of all emotion, as if reporting something that had happened to someone else. Mánatamir, for his part, remained still, hardly breathing as he listened with amazement and horror to Glorfindel’s tale. Neither one of them seemed to notice when the snow began falling again.

****

While the storm appeared to have weakened, they decided to wait until they were sure, so the day, the ninth since the two ellyn had met, was spent idly. At low tide they both went out to look for whatever could be had for their dinner. It had stopped snowing some time before and there were actual breaks in the clouds so that they could see patches of blue here and there.

“Perhaps by tomorrow the clouds will have moved on and so can we,” Glorfindel opined as they returned to their camp loaded down with clams and mussels.

“Perhaps,” Mánatamir said, his tone noncommittal. “Let’s wait and see.”

Glorfindel smiled faintly at his friend, not at all put out by the ellon’s attitude. Mánatamir had a streak of pessimism that was foreign to Glorfindel’s outlook on life, no doubt born of lonely voyages where things like storms tended to occur with wearying frequency. Glorfindel, however, could never stay pessimistic for long. He was not sure why but he suspected that dying had altered his point of view dramatically, so that it was difficult to maintain a hopeless outlook for very long.

****

Dawn was still an hour or so away when Glorfindel woke to find that Mánatamir was already up, busily stoking up their fire and speaking softly to Cundu. The ellon turned at the sound of Glorfindel stirring and gave him a bright smile.

“A fair morning to you, my friend,” he said cheerfully. “Come and have some tea while I warm up the remains of last night’s stew and then I think we should be on our way.”

Glorfindel gave him a surprised look and Mánatamir’s smile grew broader. “Look,” he said, pointing up. “The sky is clear of clouds. I went to the top of the cliff just a while ago and the entire sky is clear. Only stars and Isil low to the west.”

Glorfindel stepped away from the cave and the fire and glanced up and saw that Mánatamir had spoken truly. The sky, still dark, was ablaze with the light of the stars. He could not see Isil from where he stood, for the cliff behind them blocked the western view. Automatically, he looked to the east but nothing had changed there. Mánatamir glanced his way.

“It’s there, I promise you,” he said as he had said every morning since their journey, at least when the stars were visible in the pre-dawn sky.

Glorfindel nodded and returned to the fire to break his fast. Afterwards, they began breaking camp and by the time Anar was fully up, they were back on the cliff top and making their way through the snow field. As the sun continued to climb the sky the air turned warmer and they could see the snow melting, for here and there were patches of bare earth. Their spirits rose with the sun and Glorfindel even started whistling a tune that had been popular in Gondolin.

By noon the snow was almost gone and their progress was easier. They noticed that the landscape was beginning to change. There were fewer coves and these were much larger and deeper than the ones to the south. The sea cliffs were not so high and surprisingly, there were trees, not very tall and all of them firs of one type or another. They also came across a couple of streams rushing toward the sea. They were shallow enough that they could easily be forded. The land was still devoid of animal life and that disturbed Glorfindel, though he kept his misgivings to himself, keeping his senses — all of them — alert.

When they finally stopped for the night Mánatamir opined that they had probably gone a good twenty or so miles that day. “We should be fairly close to the cove,” he said as the two ellyn went about the business of putting a camp together. “We may even find it tomorrow or certainly the next day.”

“I think so as well,” Glorfindel said. “Have you noticed that the land seems less of a desert? Perhaps the Valar arranged it thus to discourage the casual traveler coming this way. But now, if we are truly close to Elwing’s Tower, the land is becoming more hospitable. I would imagine they would have to have some land for farming, else how would they live if there is no commerce with Aman?”

“That is a point I had not considered,” Mánatamir said, “and it certainly makes sense that they would need arable land. The cove must be fairly protected from the northwest winds which seem always to blow.”

“We will find out soon enough,” Glorfindel said and the topic was dropped.

****

Glorfindel took the first watch that night but nothing untoward happened and he was glad to rouse Mánatamir and take to his bed. His dreams, however, were disturbing and he felt a darkness hovering over them. He woke suddenly in the dead hours before dawn to find himself in a cold sweat. Mánatamir, sitting beside the fire, whittling on a piece of driftwood he had picked up in the cove where they had waited out the storm, looked up in surprise.

“Is something wrong?” he whispered. “What is the matter?”

Glorfindel shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs of his dream. “I am not sure. My dreams were disturbed and I felt something threatening us.”

“And now?” Mánatamir asked, putting down his knife and the piece of wood to stand and gaze around them.

“I... I am not sure,” Glorfindel replied with some hesitation.

“I will add more sticks to the fire just to be on the safe side,” the Teler said, bending down to do just that. “Cundu sleeps still and I think if there were anything threatening us he would sense it and would waken immediately.”

Glorfindel nodded. “It was just a dream,” he said, but he did not sound convinced even to himself.

“Dreams sometimes have a way of coming true,” Mánatamir said. “Will you sit up for what is left of the night or try to get more sleep?”

“Nay,” Glorfindel replied, standing to stretch. “I am no longer sleepy. Why don’t we make some tea and watch together, or you can reclaim your own bed and I will remain on watch.”

“Tea sounds like a good idea,” Mánatamir said with a smile, reaching for the kettle, and soon the two were sitting side-by-side before the fire in companionable silence, sipping on the hot brew and watching the sky lighten with the dawn. They decided to breakfast early and get on their way so that Anar was barely peeping over the horizon when they set off once again.

In spite of the brightness of the day, there was a cloud of worry over Glorfindel’s mind and he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. His dreams had been very troubling, though he could recall no actual details and so could not say just why. He only knew that his unease was growing, not diminishing. Finally, after they had been traveling for about two hours, Glorfindel called a halt.

Mánatamir gave him a puzzled look. “What’s the matter? You look a bit pale. Are you well?”

Glorfindel just shook his head. “I... I need to scout. Something is not right but I do not know what. Wait you here with Alagos and I will do a circuit of the area. It may not be anything, but it would ease my mind somewhat.”

“Just stay in sight,” Mánatamir said. “I do not think I would feel very comfortable out here alone with just Alagos and Cundu.”

Glorfindel took his bow and quiver of arrows and handed them to Mánatamir. “Here, just in case.” And then he was off before the other ellon could utter another word.

He headed west, for that seemed to be where the darkness lay, though he could not say why he thought that. He meant to make a wide circuit of the area, going only about a mile from where Mánatamir stood waiting. The land was flat enough, save for the occasional small hillock, that the other elf could easily keep him in sight. He had not gone far, though, when he came upon animal tracks, the first he had seen for some time. He bent down to examine them more closely and noticed that they were the same as he had found around the pool. So, something lived here, yet why hadn’t there been any other signs? He eyed the direction from which the tracks had come. South. The tracks were perhaps two days old. Two days. He and Mánatamir had been holed up waiting out the storm two days ago when these tracks were made. Obviously, the storm never made it this far north or the tracks would not be there for him to find. He followed the direction in which the tracks were headed and it appeared that these animals were heading straight north.

Completing his circuit and finding no other evidence of animal life, he returned to the waiting Mánatamir and told him what he had found.

“And you don’t recognize the tracks at all?” Mánatamir asked.

“No,” Glorfindel said. “But come, let us go on. There’s no point standing here any longer.”

“Do you still sense a threat?” the Teler enquired.

“Yes, but it is too vague for me to say what it means,” Glorfindel replied.

****

They had gone another hour or so when the land around them began to rise into a series of hills which were covered with fir trees. These hills ran northeast to southwest, coming almost to the coast so there was just the narrowest strip of land between them and the water. The sea cliffs had disappeared some time before so that there was now only a gentle slope leading to the beach.

“Odd. I don’t recall these hills,” Glorfindel said.

“Another barrier?” Mánatamir ventured. “Do you think that means we are closer to Elwing’s Tower than we thought?”

Glorfindel shrugged and was about to answer when a shadow passed over his heart and he tensed, going completely still. He had felt this twice before and both times....

“Evil stalks this land,” he whispered.

“Wh-what!?” Mánatamir sputtered, glancing around as if he was expecting an attack.

“Something evil abides here,” Glorfindel replied, his eyes narrowing in concentration. “There, somewhere in those hills.” He pointed unnecessarily ahead of them.

“Are you sure?” the Teler asked, giving him a dubious look.

“Yes,” Glorfindel responded with a definite air about him that brooked no doubt. “We should try to avoid it if we can.”

“How?”

“I think we will have to risk the sea,” Glorfindel replied, “and I do not think we should wait for the tide to go out.”

“There is only a narrow beach and it is very rocky. Alagos may have difficulty treading it, though you and I and Cundu would have no trouble.”

“I know, but I do not think we have a choice,” Glorfindel averred. “I do not think we should go by way of the hills.”

“Very well,” Mánatamir said. “Lead on and I will follow.”

They angled their way to the right and made a careful climb down to the beach which was a mixture of sand, gravel and stone with broken bits of seashells mixed in. Glorfindel stayed close to Alagos while Mánatamir and Cundu ranged ahead to scout the best path through the jumble of stone. The hills loomed to their left, dark and brooding. The nearest sloped down towards the sea in a series of falls of land and it was evident to them that in some distant past there had been a landslide, forming a sizeable barrier. The beach narrowed to just a couple of feet as they reached the bottom of the landslide and the water was lapping against them. Mánatamir came back after taking a quick scramble over the rise and assured Glorfindel that on the other side the beach widened and it was mostly sand.

“Though the hills continue northward following the coast,” he added.

Glorfindel nodded and with Mánatamir on the other side of the horse, the two elves guided the steed around the landslide. Cundu simply scrambled to the top of the slide, barking encouragement. Mánatamir had to scold him into silence, for Glorfindel did not want their presence to be noticed by whatever lurked in the hills. They were forced to walk further into the surf to get around the barrier so that the waves washed over their boots. Alagos rolled his eyes and snorted but otherwise allowed Glorfindel and Mánatamir to guide him. Ten minutes later they were on the other side, pulling off their boots and dumping the water out of them.

“I would like to stay and get a fire going and dry out,” Glorfindel said, “but I would prefer to get as far from these hills as possible.”

“That may be difficult,” Mánatamir said, “for look you how the hills parallel the coast at this point.”

“Still, whatever evil I sensed may remain where it is and not attempt to follow us,” Glorfindel responded.

“And perhaps tomorrow morning you will finally see Eärendil’s Star,” Mánatamir retorted with a shake of his head.

Glorfindel just smiled. “Stranger things have happened. Come, let us not tarry here.”

With that, they set off again, keeping to the beach. Yet, as they made their way Glorfindel felt the threat of evil increase rather than decrease, though he said nothing to his companion, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily.

“We are being followed,” Mánatamir suddenly whispered, looking towards the hills.

“Yes,” Glorfindel said, keeping his eyes before him, slowly undoing the ties on his sword hilt. “Keep the bow at the ready,” he ordered the other ellon and Mánatamir nodded, stringing the bow and pulling out an arrow. “Keep walking,” Glorfindel added, “but let us quicken our pace just a little and make for those rocks over there.” He jerked his chin towards the left where the beach curved seaward and there was a jumble of black volcanic rock towering over them. Some were like shapeless pillars standing alone or leaning against one another with the sea washing their bases.

“Here,” he said, pointing to where three of the huge pillars met, forming an alcove into which they could just fit. “Whatever is following us will have to come at us from the south.”

“Do you think whatever it is will attack?”

“We’ll find out soon enough. The threat has been growing in my mind all morning.” He began unburdening Alagos of their supplies. “Alagos will fight better without these,” he said, dropping their haversacks to one side out of the way.

“Cundu will fight as well,” Mánatamir said, patting the hound’s head. Cundu, in fact, had been growling steadily for some time now, only his tail moving as he stared intently in the direction from which they had come.

Then, without warning, several large shapes came out of the hills to their right a few hundred feet away, slinking through the trees and running along the beach, snarling.

“Valar!” Mánatamir cried even as he raised his bow. “What are they?”

“Alatyauli,” Glorfindel answered grimly, now understanding why the sense of evil had felt familiar. “I have met them before, but I have never fought them. Be wary, for they have an intelligence to them that is beyond what one would expect of beasts.”

As if to prove the ellon’s words true, there was a coughing snarl nearer to them and looking to their left they saw two of the creatures moving around the rocks, apparently having come from the other side, their eyes glowing with a preternatural light and with evil intelligence. Before anyone could act, Cundu gave an ear-shattering howl and leapt at the two creatures. All at once, those that had been coming from the south increased their speed and were upon them in a matter of seconds. Mánatamir had only enough time to release two arrows before he had to stop and pull out a short knife from his belt. It was actually a skinning knife and the only weapon he had. Glorfindel stepped forward to take the brunt of the attack to protect his friend, his sword swinging. Alagos snorted and screamed and rushed out to meet the cats, rearing up on his hind legs and crushing the skull of one of the creatures who had gotten too close.

There were a dozen or so of them, though Glorfindel suspected that there were more hiding in the hills. He spared a glance at Mánatamir, who, in spite of only having the knife, had managed to kill one of the creatures that had come to them from the left; Cundu had killed the other and was already attacking another threatening his beloved master.

One of the cats bounded up onto one of the shorter stone pillars and was leaping down on Glorfindel who managed to duck in time and thrust his sword into the creature’s belly as it went past. His sword was jerked out of his hand, forcing him to his knees.

“’Ware!” Mánatamir screamed and Glorfindel glanced up in time to see another of the creatures leaping at him. Before he could move, though, a white blur leapt before him, intercepting the great cat and bringing it down. Cundu and the cat rolled back and forth, both of them snarling and kicking one another, but finally Cundu was able to get on top just long enough to reach down with his powerful teeth and rip the cat’s throat out.

Glorfindel, meanwhile, had scrambled over to the other cat and pulled out his sword. Seven of the creatures lay dead while the remainder fell back, snarling, obviously not expecting such resistance from their prey. To his dismay, though, he saw several dark shapes come down from the hills and join their fellows on the beach. He gripped his sword tightly and wondered how many he would be able to kill before he was overwhelmed. He did not fear for himself, for he had been down this particular road before and it held no terror for him, but he regretted that Mánatamir would meet his end here and he grieved that Alagos and Cundu would also die, and for them there would be no return from death. He spared a glance at his faithful steed who was standing over the corpse of one of the creatures breathing hard, dripping with blood where the cat had managed to claw him before being killed. Cundu was limping back towards his beloved master but seemed otherwise unharmed. Glorfindel did not look behind him to see how Mánatamir fared, but kept his eyes on the creatures ranged before them, forming up to attack.

“Farewell, Mánatamir,” he said, shifting his stance slightly to better meet the onslaught that was sure to come at any moment. “In Mandos we may meet but we will not know one another. I regret that in choosing to accompany me on my quest you will meet your death today. And now I will be unable to keep my promise to Findaráto to be at his wedding. I hope he will be able to forgive me someday.”

“Do not abandon hope just yet, Glorfindel.” And the voice was like yet unlike Mánatamir’s, but Glorfindel had no time to ponder what that meant or even to give his friend one last glance, for now the cats were attacking with four of them coming right at him. He raised his sword but the cats were now leaping and there was little time to counter. He managed to slash at the one directly before him, bringing it down, but the other three were on him almost at the same time and he went under their combined weight. At that precise moment there was a searing flash of light and he heard unearthly screams and then there was nothing.

****

Alatyauli: Plural of alatyaulë: Great cat, a species of prehistoric saber-tooth cat.