Chapter 8

The warriors set out with a slightly larger party than intended for ellyn from the Chieftain Sûllindo’s settlements insisted on coming, too, led by Chieftain Sûllindo’s eldest son Sûlion. Haldir had no choice but to accept the additional company though it angered him considerably having to bring along such a liability.  He had argued against it, but Saelon over-ruled him, claiming it a matter of honor for that other settlement to let the others join the hunt. Before they departed, Haldir thought he had made it very clear that he was in charge and that everyone needed to obey his commands in order to better assure the safety of the entire party.

From the outset, Sûlion questioned everything Haldir did.

“Why do we travel in this direction?”

“Why do you carry such large weapons? Is that not inefficient?”

“Are you certain this is the most efficient way to track the creatures? Anything could have made those marks.”

“Why do you always include ellyn from Lothlórien in each scouting party when the ellyn of Celos Galen know the land better? Do you not trust the ellyn of Celos Galen? Are you ellyn of Lothlórien wanting all of the glory of the kill for yourselves?”

Observing a white-knuckled, red-faced Haldir taking deep breaths after yet another challenging question, Ferevellon made a tempting offer in loudly whispered Sindarin, “I can incapacitate him and make it look like an accident.”

Haldir glared at his soldier in response, then gestured in what he hoped was a fervent enough plea to all of the Belain when the next questions immediately came.

“What is that tongue I keep hearing you speak? Why is the tongue of the Galadhrim not good enough for you?”

Ferevellon quietly slid back to his position in the ranks, declaring loudly now in Quenya just to rankle the annoying ellon even more, “I am available if you should need me, my Captain. I will be discrete. All you have to do is ask. I promise.”

“Now who obviously has spent too much time among the Noldor?” Angaril wistfully asked no one in particular, switching back to Sindarin and earning himself snickers from Haldir’s brothers.

For the next great while, Haldir contented himself with considering the many different ways in which Ferevellon could carry out his offer should Haldir give the word. It certainly made the rest of the march that much more tolerable.

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The lair was in a cave as Haldir suspected it would be – dank and foul-smelling just like every other breeding lair of spiders Haldir had ever encountered. He hated spiders, probably more than he hated orcs, if truth be told. For one thing orcs were easier to kill. For another, orcs did not produce hundreds of offspring at a time like the spiders sure did. He hated having orcs as neighbors on the borders of Lórien, requiring so many of the ellyn to patrol and fight to defend the borders constantly. It would be far worse having spiders as neighbors here in Celos Galen.

Once the new recruits had been shown what to look for, they proved themselves very skillful in spite of the annoying Sûlion and his band of hunters. The ellyn of Celos Galen truly were exceptional trackers and hunters and Haldir told them as much. He did not give his praise lightly, but these ellyn certainly deserved it. He was proud of what they had learned in the short time he had been teaching them and he knew that Saelon was, too. Surprisingly, he could not readily determine whose approval meant more to his new recruits and that secretly pleased him. He hoped he would continue to be worthy of their loyalty and trust, and successfully completing this mission would go a long way toward solidifying that.

Success in this mission would earn him many things in Celos Galen. It would make his voice in the councils more important. Having the knowledge he did of the future meant that he might be able to keep these folk safe when the orcs finally arrived in Beleriand and it became necessary to move the folk of Celos Galen to the safety of Doriath. Success also would help assure the continued existence of a trained fighting force in the community and perhaps enable the people to stay in one place for longer periods of time and perhaps even expand in number as well.

This brought something else to mind as well, something he did not wish to influence him as much as it was…his feelings for the lovely Gilwen. It was unclear to him how many months he had known her. It may even have been more than a year now.  The time simply did not matter. For as long as he had been here in the past, she had been with him, a comfort, a strength, a constant companion, a source of much needed guidance, and a joy. Parting from her to go on this mission had been far more difficult than he had expected. And it irritated him greatly.

He simply did not have time for something like this in his life!  He never had and was perfectly content with it remaining that way. Then again, he was perfectly content with her by his side and even more so with her in his arms, for such was the direction their relationship had taken of late. It was exceedingly irritating. He did not need this now with so many things of far greater importance needing to take precedence!

He could still taste her sweet mouth, still feel the press of her soft lips. And that annoyed him most of all. 

She was a distraction he could not afford.

And yet…if he succeeded in all he was striving for in Celos Galen, Saelon her chieftain and Damrod her adar just might approve of that distraction becoming his forever.

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Orophin and ten of the new recruits remained outside on guard alongside the “extra baggage” as Fereveldir had rightly named the ellyn of the other settlement. The darkness in the cave was absolute so Haldir ordered lit the torches he and his soldiers had brought along.

As the third torch was lit, Angaril softly commented in Sindarin, “Makes one miss the Noldor even more, does it not? I would dearly love to have one of those Feanorean lamps right about now. Just raise the shutter for light. Very efficient. They were very useful whenever we had to go into Moria. ”

“I am not so sure that you were not raised by dwarves, Angaril,” Rúmil observed cheekily earning himself a swat on the head from the quick-handed smith in spite of ducking behind a confused warrior.

Haldir smiled, grateful to his brother for the much needed levity. He had to admit, he missed the Noldor and the Feanorean lamps, too.

A musty dank darkness met them as they moved deeper into the low-ceilinged cave. Swords drawn and torches held before them, they stooped, moving single file with Haldir in the lead. Occasionally the torches hissed as droplets of water oozed and dripped from the ceiling. Small stalactites hung down, eliciting a slight hiss or moan every now and then when one of the taller ellyn bumped his head. A ways inside, the passage way opened up enough for them to stand upright. Haldir looked back and noticed that the twins, Rúmil, and a few others sported scraped foreheads with lingering drops of blood on their brows. Giving them a small smile he turned his attention back to the way ahead.

Haldir slowed the pace, looking around more carefully as the musty stench grew to one of decay. Wispy, filmy threads of sticky white silk stuck to the walls in places, occasionally clinging to their boots. However, the only sound was the constant drip of water seeping through from above.

The passage turned abruptly to the left. He halted a moment as the reek almost physically overpowered him. Dead animals hung suspended from the roof of the cave: birds, rodents, a couple of foxes, and some things which were so badly decomposed he could not readily distinguish the species. The stink of rotting flesh was horrendous. He silently gave thanks that he had not eaten in many hours or he knew he would lose the contents of his stomach.

A few moments later, he heard the sound of retching and looked back to see two of the new recruits lose the private battle with their bodies. Haldir called a halt for a few minutes, giving them the chance to regain their composure before continuing on.

The passage way twisted and turned with a noticeable downward slope. Animal bones littered the floor, crunching underfoot, and the bodies of larger animals hung from the ceiling or lay suspended in horror against the walls.

When the way opened up into a wide room, Haldir suddenly stopped. Brethil a grandson of Lord Saelon sidestepped to avoid running into him and cursed and swore angrily as he became enmeshed in the thick webbing on the wall. Angaril and Fereveldir patiently struggled to free him, commenting, “We have been in your position before, friend. A lot of soap and a dip in the stream will get that stuff out of your clothes and hair.” 

Too annoyed to find any humor in the situation, Haldir looked about, then motioned with his torch whispering, “The sacks hanging over there are different from the rest.”

Others cautiously moved forward to investigate. The floor was deep with webby residue, causing them to lift their feet high with each struggling step they took. Poking and prodding with their swords, many softly swore as realization dawned.

“What is it?” Brethil asked.

“Egg sacks,” Ferevellon replied. “But how many?” He walked further into the darkness to the left. “Sweet Eru!”  Then he let out a string of expletives.  

“Ferevelleon?” Haldir called very concerned. “What is it?”

“A lot more egg sacks and I stepped into something foul which oozed and gave way beneath my foot. I really do not want to know what it is,” came the anguished reply. “Gah! It is disgusting!”

“Then step out of it and come back over here where the floor is less obscured,” Haldir ordered.

“You were right, Haldir,” observed the awed voice of one of the new recruits named Galadin, the eldest adar of his family line. “They are storing up food to feed a whole new generation of trouble for Celos Galen and the other settlements as well. But can the eggs be destroyed?”

The sounds of swords swishing through web and hacking at sacks which plopped into the webby mess on the floor echoed off the walls as Angaril and the twins demonstrated a most effective method of destroying the egg sacks.

“Very well then,” Galadin grinned maniacally in the flickering light as he raised his sword and found himself joined by all of the others in the group gleefully chopping egg sacks to bits.

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A thorough search of the cave revealed no more threats, so twenty-five ruined egg sacks later, the warriors found themselves back outside and engaged in a fight for their lives. At least they managed to escape from the cave before the first of the spiders attacked. The short bows of the “extra baggage” proved mostly ineffective unless the spiders were struck directly in an eye. The long knives of the same ellyn provided little defense let alone offence forcing the ellyn to flee.

Orophin and the new recruits proved themselves to be much more effective fighters, swinging swords to hack off spider legs and stab between joints. They dispatched four by the time Haldir and his troops successfully joined the fray. Working together the new recruits managed to destroy a fair number of the creatures on their own. Fortune smiled upon them in that the spiders did not all return at once. This gave the new recruits the time they needed to observe and develop their own strategies for fighting the horrible creatures.

Haldir on the other hand found himself Fortune’s fool or more like Fools guardian for he constantly had to drive spiders away from the elves who had tried to flee, twice saving the life of the annoying Sûlion who was pinned by spiders and stabbed in the arms and legs.

The warriors of Lothlórien dispatched the majority of the spiders, but the ellyn of Celos Galen all proved themselves well. By the time the last spider fell, all of the warriors were the worse for wear (as were the ill-prepared elves who fled), but few of the injuries were serious.

The most able-bodied ellyn worked long after the battle, gathering spider carcasses for burning and watching over the putrid flames until the last ashes went out. The remaining elves rested, tending and recovering from wounds. In an effort which redeemed them greatly in Haldir’s eyes, the poorly armed elves from the other settlement did the majority of the work required of the able-bodied in spite of their own wounds. Few of them would meet the eyes of Haldir or the other warriors in conversation afterward, but they did gaze on them with newfound admiration and respect and not a little envy.

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Two turns of the stars later, the weary elves started the journey back to Celos Galen. The long slow walk allowed Haldir time to make mental notes of skills which needed honing and to plan for the teaching of such skills. He also, as Orophin had reminded him when the last spider fell, needed to plan the braiding ceremony for twenty new warriors had just earned their braids. Haldir smiled at the absurd happenstance that this same ceremony which he and every warrior he had ever known had experienced actually might well be a tradition started by him and his comrades.

“Captain,” Angaril called from behind, still heavily favoring his left leg where a crude bandage covered a long gash. 

Haldir dropped back to join him, putting an arm around him as added support. “Are you ready to give in and let me help you make it back there?”

Angaril grimaced as he stumbled again nearly falling on Haldir, but shook his head no. “And that is not why I called out to you, either. I wanted to let you know that when we started training the new recruits, I made a sigil e-hereg in anticipation of needing to initiate new warriors.  I did not have any mithril to work with, but I did my best with what was available to me. Being the eldest warriors, you and I are the ones who will be initiating the new warriors first.”

Accepting some of Angaril’s weight, Haldir smiled his gratitude at his weary comrade. “I’m glad you thought to make one. I was planning to use my own knife, but now it looks as if we will be able to do this properly. What pattern do we use?”

Rúmil came over to them and slipped an arm around Angaril’s other side further easing his discomfort.

“Could not help overhearing. Not that you asked me,” Rúmil smirked as Haldir scowled. “but I think we should use the same braid we use… used – sorry – in Lórien. Celos Galen will not even be around when Anor finally rises, so what harm is there if they copy us? Besides it makes their warriors look like us when they are striving to be like us – helps in the striving for, and it makes our job easier not having to come up with a new pattern.”

“I agree with Rúmil,” Angaril said, “And friends, while I greatly appreciate the help getting back to Celos Galen, I want to enter the settlement under my own power. Otherwise I will never hear the end of it from my lovely Nélliriel who made me promise her I would not get hurt.”

“You got that wound protecting her brother. That has to count for something,” Rúmil commented. “Besides you are bleeding again and Brandir will tell her what happened anyway. Just enjoy her attention and let her take care of you.”

“Is that what Haldir will be doing with that wound on his arm which is directly on top of the scar the orcs gave him at Helm’s Deep?” Angaril looked over at his Captain. “Gilwen will not be happy with you messing up her fine sewing.”

“No, she will not,” Haldir readily agreed. “But at least her naneth and aunts allow her to tend me alone and do not dote on me as well like Nélliriel’s dote on you.”

“Hence his reluctance to sport injuries in Nélliriel’s presence,” Rúmil summed up.

“Do not worry, Angaril,” Brandir grimaced, painfully adjusting his sling. “My arm and shoulder will keep them busy enough to give you plenty of time alone with my sister. I’ll see to it. It is the least I can do.”

“Thanks,” Angaril grinned.

Rúmil looked less certain. “Perhaps you should not be so comforted that Brandir is so willing to buy you time to be alone with his sister. I am not so sure that I would want you left alone with my sister – if I had one.”

“Which you do not,” Brandir panted with a smirk, still struggling with his sling. “If it should eventually come to it, I will not mind having Angaril as a brother. He is far more tolerable than anyone else who has sought her companionship.”

“More tolerable?” Haldir echoed flatly. He patted Angaril consoling. “Good luck if it should ever come to that, my more tolerable friend. I think you will need it.”

Snickers echoed from all around.

But Sûlion was silent the whole way back.

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