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The Journey Home  by Fiondil

26: Hunting

It took them nearly two days to reach the southern flank of the Emyn Beraid, which had curved eastward the further south they went. They each took turns with the pacing and so it was that Maglor and Arthalion were in the van counting their paces as they rounded the last of the hills.

“….one thousand fifty-six… one thousand fifty-sev….”

Arthalion stopped counting even as Maglor came to a halt, the two of them staring at the Ered Luin some fifty miles away rising into the heavens, their weathered peaks wreathed in snow. From this distance there was a blue cast to the stone of the mountains, hence their name.

“Why did you stop?”

Both of them turned to see Saelmir, Celepharn and Gilgaran a few hundred feet behind them. For an answer, Maglor simply pointed. The other three Elves began trotting, their expressions ones of concern. Gilgaran even went so far as to pull his sword from its sheath, but stopped with it halfway out when he realized that neither Maglor nor Arthalion had drawn their own swords. He pushed the sword back into the sheath with a grimace. In the meantime, they came abreast of the other two and stopped to see what Maglor was pointing at.

Gilgaran’s eyebrows shot up and Celepharn went completely still. Saelmir just scowled. “It’s not as if you haven’t seen them before,” he said. “Now where did you leave off?”

When neither Maglor nor Arthalion answered, he punched Maglor (being the closer) in the arm. “Wake up!” he shouted with frustration. “It’s just the mountains. Now where did you leave off or do we have to backtrack to the last stop and recount?”

The other four Elves stared at him in surprise, but Saelmir was not impressed. “Well? Which is it? Did you lose count or what? Honestly, what is wrong with you people?”

“What is wrong with us?” Maglor asked, looking more amused than angry even as he rubbed his arm where Saelmir had punched him. “What is wrong with you? Can you not see?”

“See what? Mountains? Yes, I see them. Very pretty, I’m sure, and no doubt quite impressive in their own way, but we have work to do and even I can feel the storm approaching. I would at least like to have the southern flank of these hills mapped before we have to deal with it.”

Gilgaran actually rolled his eyes. “Are we sure he’s an Elf?”

That set the others sniggering even as Saelmir continued to glower at them. Arthalion saved the day (in Saelmir’s eyes at least) as he started counting. “One thousand and fifty-seven…move Maglor… one thousand fifty-eight… one thousand fifty-nine….”

No one said anything more until Arthalion reached the next stopping place. “… thousand one hundred and eleven. Happy now, Saelmir?”

“Immensely,” Saelmir said as he made a notation on the map, taking another five minutes or so to draw what they could see of this edge of the hills, then he capped the glass of ink and looked about, his eyes falling upon the mountains in the distance, his expression one of feigned surprise. “Oh look! Mountains! Are they not spectacular? Oh and so blue. Why even the snow looks… Ow!”

He ducked as more than one person attempted to swat him upside his head or punch him in the arm and he danced away from them giving them a merry grin. “There is a time for work and a time for sightseeing, my friends. Back there,” he jerked his left thumb toward the east, “we were still working.”

“And now?” Arthalion asked with a grin.

“And now that we’ve all admired the mountains, it’s time to get back to mapping,” Saelmir replied.

Gilgaran had other ideas, though. He glanced to the west. “Anor will be behind the mountains within the hour. We might as well stop here and camp for the night, have a little celebration for finally making it all the way down without any mishaps. How extensive are the hills south of the settlement then?” This last was directed at Saelmir, who consulted the map, doing quick calculations.

“We’re about eight leagues as the craban flies, but we’ve certainly traveled more than that as we’ve skirted the flanks.”

“And I would guess that the mountains are about fifty miles from here,” Maglor said, nodding westward. “We could easily reach them tomorrow if we wished. You only need two people to count the paces, Saelmir and it’s Gilgaran and Celepharn’s turn now. Why don’t Arthalion and I go to the mountains while you continue mapping this part of the hills? We’ll see if we can find any traces of those cat-creatures. By the time you come around this flank and head north again, we should be back.”

“I hate the idea of us splitting up,” Gilgaran said, still acting as their leader, “yet I can see the wisdom of it. It was one reason why Denethor wanted us to come this way, to see if we could track those creatures down.”

“We promise not to do anything… rash,” Arthalion said. “I do not wish to face even one of those Morgoth-spawned demons-in-fur, but we do need to find their lair if we can so that in the spring we can launch an attack and get rid of them.”

“After you and Arthad encountered them, did you see them again?” Maglor asked.

Arthalion nodded. “Yes. There is or was a small colony of them that made their home in the Shire, or at least, they liked to hunt there. That’s where we encountered them at any rate when we went exploring in that direction once.” He paused for a moment, giving them an embarrassed look. “I was complaining that Mithlond was boring and I wanted to see something else besides crumbling stone or one more cave in the system of caves that we had discovered and where we had moved to. So we went toward the Shire. If we had stayed in Mithlond….”

“They may still have found you, eventually,” Maglor pointed out. “Do not play the “what-if” game, my friend, it will only lead to madness and despair. I know. I played it for a very long time after… well, after.” He stared down at his right hand, which was clenched and a spasm of pain and regret marred his visage.

There was an uneasy silence for a long moment and then Gilgaran cleared his throat. “You are correct, Maglor. It only takes three to do the mapping. Saelmir is quite capable of drawing what is before him and he doesn’t need any of us breathing over his shoulders watching him draw. So, you and Arthalion can go on ahead of us and see what you can find of these creatures. Saelmir, based on our progress so far, how long do you estimate it will take to cross this section of the hills and head back north?”

Saelmir frowned slightly in thought, staring westward along the flank. “It must be close to forty miles if it’s an inch. Barring unforeseen mishaps and based on our rate of walking so far, I would say that we should be at the other end two days from tomorrow.”

Gilgaran nodded. “It will take you a day to reach the foot of the mountains from here. We will be heading north two days after that. Allowing a day for you to cross back to these hills, let’s say that you’ll meet up with us six days from tomorrow.”

“That only gives us four days for searching,” Maglor pointed out. “That’s not a whole lot of time.”

“Agreed, but I do not wish for us to be separated for too long. I would be happy if you came back to us sooner than that, but I don’t wish for you to be any later. Just find evidence that the creatures do indeed haunt the mountains and are using the hills only for hunting. We can worry about just where they are located at a later time.”

“Good enough,” Maglor said as he pulled his haversack off him and dropped it to the ground. “I’ll build the fire and get dinner started.”

Everyone nodded, removing their own haversacks, and an hour later, as the sky darkened to midnight blue and the stars shone out, they were enjoying Maglor’s fish stew.

****

Maglor and Arthalion set off an hour or so before sunrise while the sky was just turning a pearly gray, wishing to arrive at the mountains with a good hour or so to spare before nightfall. “We’ll see you in six days if not sooner,” Maglor said. “The storm will probably be upon us by then.”

The others nodded and wished them good hunting. Maglor told Arthalion to set the pace and the two began running easily as they headed directly west, keeping the southern flank of the Emyn Beraid well to their right, for they were making a straight run rather than following the curve of the hills as they had been doing while mapping. Except to stop every couple of leagues to take some water and look around they did not tarry and they did not speak. For several hours the mountains did not appear any closer and their features were indistinct, but by midmorning they were able to discern certain features.

“We should be there well before the sun sets,” Maglor said when they stopped for a drink and to check the land around them. “That is, if we make a straight run from here, but I want to go closer to where these hills begin to bend northward. I want to see if there are any traces of those creatures that we can follow.”

“That makes sense,” Arthalion said. “If we continue as we have we’ll actually be well south of the closest point between the hills and the mountains. It seems more logical to think that those creatures would cross at the narrowest point.”

“Let’s go then,” Maglor said and they set off once more, but now angling north of west, following the shoulders of the hills. About an hour or so past noon they were rounding the hills and could now see north and west. The bulk of the mountains now lay behind them and only about ten miles separated them from a spur that jutted out into the plains. The land stretched flat before them as they looked toward Mithlond, though the ruins lay beyond the horizon. Maglor pointed to the right toward the hills. From the west, their slopes were not as sheer but they still loomed over them, dark and brooding.

“This spur is too steep for even those creatures to climb,” he said. “Let’s see if there are gentler slopes further north. I imagine that these creatures would run a straight path between here and the mountains, or as straight as possible depending on where they are living. See? The closest part of the mountains is actually south of us but I think they may be inhabiting the northern flank. You can see where the mountains are lower here and more worn looking than further south.”

Arthalion agreed and they set off again, spreading out slightly to cover more ground. Maglor estimated that they had moved a couple of miles northward before they discovered any evidence that anything lived in the area. It was Arthalion who found the tracks. It was, in fact, but a single paw print that had been frozen and was not completely covered by snow.

“This is heading toward the mountains,” Arthalion pointed out when Maglor approached. He looked to his right, trying to gauge distance. “I think that crevice there is where they enter the hills.”

Maglor looked to where Arthalion pointed and nodded. “Let’s check along this path.” He pointed first at the mountains. “I’ll go this way and you backtrack to the hills. Sing out if you find anything and I will do the same.”

Arthalion nodded and set off, keeping his eyes on the ground. Maglor did the same, going in the opposite direction. This time, he found what they were looking for. “Arthalion, here.” Arthalion turned and came swiftly. Maglor simply pointed down at the spoor, clearly visible.

“This looks fairly recent,” he said.

“I suspect it’s barely a week old. Shall we see where it goes?”

Arthalion nodded and they headed southwest, taking a direct route to the mountains. They were now north of the most eastern spur of the range and Maglor thought that the peaks were even more eroded than he recalled from the last time he had lived in this area, long before the ice came. Not for the first time he wondered if a colony of Dwarves had somehow survived through the ages in spite of the ice. Belegost, as he recalled, lay well to the south and, though it had been mostly destroyed in the cataclysm that had sunk Beleriand, a small section of it was later reoccupied sometime late in the Second Age. The colony of Dwarves prospered well enough, even more so when the Dwarves of Erebor made their way there after the coming of Smaug and joined with their kin. He recalled meeting Thorin Oakenshield by chance, as they say, when that worthy happened to be making his way toward Mithlond to pick up the East-West Road. Maglor had encountered the Dwarf prince along the way for he was making his once-a-century pilgrimage to Imladris. Neither had spoken of the reason for their journeys but it was sometime later that Maglor heard rumors of a battle far to the east and the death of Thorin Oakenshield.

Well, that was a long time ago and no longer of importance. He vaguely wondered if he should add Thorin to his forgiveness list but after a moment’s reflection decided that the two had not been in each other’s company long enough to warrant it.

“Look!”

Maglor pulled himself out of his memories to see where Arthalion was pointing. They had come halfway to the mountains by now and they could clearly see where there were dark slits that he thought had to be the entrances to caves.

“Where now is the Gulf of Lune, there once existed the ancient Dwarf city of Nogrod before the cataclysm that destroyed Beleriand,” Maglor said. “Those caves could well be what are left of the mines.”

“If they are not infested with those Morgoth-spawned creatures, we might be able to use them to mine for metals,” Arthalion said.

“And even if they are infested, we can still use them once we eliminate them,” Maglor rejoined. “Let’s approach with caution. Any creature hiding in those caves can probably see us coming.”

“I hate that there are no trees or even some scraggly bushes to use as cover,” Arthalion said.

Maglor grinned but did not comment as they set off again. As they got closer, Maglor could see that the dark slits, of which he counted four, were not cave entrances at all, but narrow crevices that were open above and reached back into the mountain range. The two Elves stopped and looked about, trying to find any evidence that the creatures were about. They ranged along the mountain shoulder but did not find any spoors.

“This makes no sense,” Arthalion said in frustration when they met up again on the plain. “We saw that one track heading here. We saw no other tracks along the way, but it just seems improbable that we would not find other tracks closer to the mountains.”

Maglor shrugged, not sure how to answer the younger Elf. “Let’s examine these crevices,” he suggested. “Maybe we’ll find something within them.”

“Do you want to split up?”

“No. I do not want to risk coming upon these creatures alone. Pick a crevice, any crevice.”

Arthalion chuckled and randomly pointed to the second one from the right. Maglor nodded and they headed to it. Where they entered, the crevice was wide enough for the two to walk abreast of one another but within a few hundred paces, it narrowed and became twisty so that they had to go single-file and Maglor made sure he was in front, his sword already drawn, for there was no room otherwise. Arthalion followed his example. They had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile (though it was hard to estimate distances in the twisting passage) when they reached a dead end.

“Well, they obviously don’t live here,” Arthalion said, sounding almost put-out and Maglor smiled, though the other ellon could not see.

“Can you turn around or will we be walking backwards all the way?” he asked.

“Hmm… that is the question, isn’t it? I’m going to hand you my sword,” Arthalion said and did just that as Maglor reached back with his left hand. “I’m going to walk back a bit. There was a section just a few feet back that seemed wider than here.”

Maglor just nodded and he turned his head slightly to see the other ellon slowly backing up then disappearing around the last bend. A minute later he saw him returning, but now his back was to him. “Tell me when to stop,” Arthalion said. “I’ll take the swords and then you come at your own pace.”

“Stop,” Maglor said when Arthalion was barely a foot away. “I’m going to hand you back your sword first.” He did so and Arthalion took it. “And now my sword.”

“Got it. I’ll start out. You can turn around easily enough about a hundred paces along. Take your time. I’ll meet you at the entrance.”

Maglor did not bother to answer, merely waited until Arthalion’s footfalls were distant before moving. As promised, the crevice widened just enough on the other side of the bend for him to turn so he was facing back toward the entrance. He advanced more rapidly and was reaching the entrance just as Arthalion did.

By now the sun was well to the west and they decided to make camp in the crevice which would afford them some shelter.

“Do you think they are all like that?” Arthalion asked as they set about building a fire and putting together the night meal. Maglor had suggested they go back a way into the crevice to where it started to narrow, thinking that if anything threatened them they would have an adequate barrier against attack.

“Who knows? We’ll have to investigate them all. These must have been ancient seams of the mines surrounding Nogrod.”

“Did you ever visit them?”

“Once. I traveled to Nogrod to consult with the Dwarves about fortifying my citadel which lay between the arms of the Little and Greater Gelion. That was our weak point in the Leaguer, for the hills that spread along the southern border of Lothlann between the Ered Luin and the highlands of Dorthonion failed at one point. They named the gap after me, for some reason. At any rate, it was through that gap that the Orcs managed to enter East Beleriand before the Dagor Aglareb. Afterwards, my brothers and I decided we needed to strengthen the fortifications along the gap and I went to Nogrod with my brother Caranthir to ask the Dwarves for help, which they gladly gave.”

He paused and gave Arthalion a resigned shrug. “Not that it did any good and in the end it all came to naught.”

“I know,” Arthalion said. “I listened to the tales of those times sung by others, for I was too young to go to war myself. Even Arthad was barely old enough to hold a sword in his hands, though he acted as my adar’s squire during the War of Wrath. Yet, when the call came for us to return to Dor Rodyn, neither of us felt the need to go. Ennorath was our home, after all. We knew no other.”

“And though I was born and raised in the Blessed Realm, I feel the same. Or, at least, I did. Lately I have begun to dream of my life in Dor Rodyn before it all went wrong, before my adar’s exile to Formenos. We were happy, oh so happy, then. We had the love of the Belain and there was all of Valinor to explore.” He sighed. “I do not know why I am being summoned to return now.”

“Perhaps the Belain miss you,” Arthalion said softly.

Maglor looked up sharply at that, but Arthalion was not even looking at him, but was staring into the fire, his own expression pensive. He was tempted to offer a retort to what he thought was a ridiculous statement, but in the end he merely said, “I’ll take the first watch,” and left it at that.

****

The next morning, once their fast was broken and the fire doused, they began checking the other crevices. They started with the most western one and, like the first one, this too came to a dead end after only a few hundred feet. This crevice remained wide enough all along that they had no trouble turning around.

“Two down, two to go,” Arthalion said.

“Could we be wrong in our thinking?” Maglor asked. “Could those creatures be further south?”

“We won’t know the answer to that until we’ve looked,” Arthalion countered, and to that Maglor could not disagree.

So they moved east until they came to the third crevice. This one did not look any more promising than the other two. Indeed, the entrance was just narrow enough that they had to go single file from the first, but they dutifully entered, knowing they had to check out all possibilities. They only got a few dozen feet in when Arthalion, who was in the lead, stopped so suddenly that Maglor nearly ran into him.

“Smell that?” Arthalion whispered.

Maglor sniffed, suddenly aware that he had been smelling a musky odor ever since entering the crevice, though it was so faint and elusive that he had initially dismissed it. Now, however, it was more evident and he wrinkled his nose. Without speaking, he tapped Arthalion on the shoulder and began walking backwards, for there was no room to turn around, or rather, it would have created too much noise if they had. Arthalion began following him and in a few minutes they were back out breathing fresh air.

“Let us check the other crevice just to be sure,” Maglor said and that was when they found the real first evidence that the cat-creatures were actually inhabiting the mountains, for they immediately saw paw prints frozen in the ground and the rank smell was stronger.

“That other seam must connect to this one in some way,” Maglor said, “but this appears to be the main entrance.”

“So what do we do?” Arthalion asked. “We’re not due to meet up with the others for another four days. Now that we know where to find these creatures, should we just leave and deal with them later?”

Maglor looked about, examining the mountains rising above them. He pointed to his right. “Do you think we could climb that? I would like to see if we can follow the crevice from above and see if we can observe these creatures. We can then get an idea of how many there may be.”

“We can but try,” Arthalion said and they moved back to the west and after a few minutes of close examination, began to climb. It was not particularly difficult, for there were plenty of handholds and the face was not sheer. Still, it took them the better part of an hour to make it to where they could see down into the crevice and now their path was more chancy, for a single slip would send them to certain death.

They followed the crevice as well as they could, though sometimes their path was blocked and they had to detour around before returning to the crevice which seemed to extend well into the mountains. However, the further into the mountains they went the narrower the gap until they could have easily jumped the distance. And then the opening ceased to exist where a shoulder of the mountain rose before them. Yet, looking down they could see that the seam continued on but now it was covered.

“Well, there’s no going on,” Maglor said with disgust.

“Let’s go back down then and find a place where we can see but not be seen or smelled,” Arthalion suggested. “There’s been no actual sign of these creatures and I want to see if any of them show themselves before we have to meet up with the others.”

“We’ll go down the east side then,” Maglor said and they made their way across and headed back down. It took them longer for this side was more rugged and steeper and part of the mountain fell away into a valley of stone that had not been obvious from the other side. Thus, it was well after noon when they finally came back down into the plains and they spent some time hunting for a hiding place that would let them see the entrance of the crevice without them being seen.

“This section of the mountains isn’t so sheer that those creatures couldn’t climb up,” Arthalion pointed out.

“But they would have to do it one or two at a time which will give us the advantage,” Maglor countered. “At any rate, we will not be here long. I’ve decided not to linger any more than a day. We’ll go back to the hills the day after tomorrow and wait for the others.”

“Do we risk a fire tonight?” Arthalion asked but Maglor shook his head and they settled themselves as well as they could and chewed on some deer jerky while taking turns keeping an eye on the crevice entrance.

It was well after dark, perhaps an hour or so before midnight when they noticed movement. Maglor was taking the watch while Arthalion walked the Path of Dreams, but with a single touch of Maglor’s finger on Arthalion’s thigh, the ellon was wide awake and joining Maglor where he lay looking down. In the fitful light of the stars which were occluded by clouds now and then, they could see several of the creatures slinking out of the crevice and loping off toward the hills.

“I forgot that they may be nocturnal,” Maglor whispered in Arthalion’s ear. “We’ll let them get well ahead before we follow them.”

Arthalion nodded. They counted fifteen of the creatures and some were not as large as others. Maglor thought they were either females or young males joining their elders. They waited a good half hour before Maglor signaled to Arthalion and then they were making their slow way back down from their perch and in a few minutes they were running as silently as the pack before them, following their trail.

****

Note: The Dagor Aglareb, or the Glorious Battle, was the third of the great battles of Beleriand.





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