27: Hunted

“Where are they going?” Arthalion whispered to Maglor as they ran behind the pack. They were perhaps half a mile behind the creatures, which, until then, had been making a straight run to the hills, whose peaks were just visible as dark humps on the horizon limed in starlight.

“They’re veering south,” Maglor pointed out the obvious, not having any real answer.

“They’re heading for that section of the hills where it comes around,” Arthalion said, never slowing. “Why have they suddenly—”

Maglor nodded grimly, having come to the same conclusion that the younger ellon had hit upon.

“But we’re not to meet up with them for another two days at least,” Arthalion protested.

Maglor shook his head. “Saelmir said it would take three days to reach the western end of the southern flank. They should be there now. We were simply to meet up with them somewhere along the way as they made their way north.”

“You think those creatures somehow sensed them even from this distance and that’s why they turned aside from wherever they were originally planning to go? Is that even possible?”

Maglor shrugged, his expression turning even grimmer. “Possible or not, that seems to be where they are heading. Our friends will not be expecting them. We need to catch up with the creatures before they find the others.” With that, he put on more speed and Arthalion kept pace with him.

Even under starlight, Maglor could make out the creatures running silently before them. The gap was closing so now they were only a quarter of a mile from them, but in that time they had crossed most of the terrain separating the mountains from the Tower Hills that now loomed large before them. It was obvious to the Elf that the creatures were making straight for the spur of the hills that jutted out as if reaching for the mountains. Somewhere were three unsuspecting Elves and he feared that he and Arthalion would not be able to warn them in time.

“Look!” Arthalion cried though he kept his voice to a near whisper as he pointed to the left.

Maglor stole a quick look and resisted a sigh. From the north he could see dark clouds piling up over the hills and heading due south. The predicted storm had found them. Perhaps that would aid them. It was unlikely the creatures would care to be hunting in it however tempting.

“Do you see any sign of a fire?” he asked Arthalion, for the younger ellon had keen eyesight, keener than most. If they could spot the fire that the others no doubt had lit they would have a better idea where the creatures would strike and could somehow warn them.

“Not yet,” Arthalion answered. “I have been looking for it but… wait! There, just where the shoulder of the hills turns northward, there is a gleam of light. Do you see?”

Maglor looked, straining to see. “Where? There is nothing.”

“Look up not down. Do you see? They must have decided to move into the hills rather than stay on the plain. Perhaps they already knew of the storm’s approach and sought shelter.”

Maglor nodded, realizing the truth of the ellon’s words.

“So, what is the plan?” Arthalion asked. “How do we warn them?”

“The plan is to attack these creatures from behind and hope our friends understand what is happening and come to our assistance.”

“Oh, all right. I suppose that would work.”

Maglor grinned. “Unless you have a better idea?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. We’ll go with your plan. I just wondered. Do you want to take the ones on the left while I take the ones on the right?”

Maglor actually chuckled even as he drew his sword, never slowing down. Arthalion followed suit. By now, only a few hundred yards separated them from the creatures, which never slowed, but now they were not quite so silent, for they could hear growls between the creatures as if they were communicating with one another. Ahead, he could see the hills looming and he had lost sight of the fire, hidden behind a fold of the earth. He wondered just how to warn their friends of the imminent attack and as the distance closed between them and the creatures he did the only thing he could think of: he sang.

The very unexpectedness of his raising his voice in song brought Arthalion to an astonished halt and caused the creatures running before them to swing around in snarling rage and Maglor was swinging at the nearest one even as he continued singing and what he sang was the Noldolantë, which he had composed shortly after the Noldor had settled in Beleriand. Even as he slashed at the first of the creatures he raised his voice so that it echoed into the hills. He thought perhaps Arthalion would join him in singing but the ellon did not, too busy dealing out death to the creatures that were attacking him.

Maglor thought that perhaps his singing confused the creatures, for they did not attack him all at once, as if they were trying to decipher the meaning of his words. He, on the other hand, did not falter in either his song or his killing and when he slew a second cat, the others seemed to break from whatever spell his singing had cast over them and they launched themselves at him, practically ignoring Arthalion.

Now he fought in desperation but he never stopped singing. For some reason, he needed to sing, sing as he had not done so in too long a time. The words poured out of him like water and even as he continued to fight, knowing that perhaps he would not live to see the dawn, he felt a lightness of heart and for a brief, oh so very brief, moment, he rediscovered joy, as if all his life had been a prelude to this very moment.

He managed to kill another cat but three others were already attacking him and these were the largest of them, the leaders of the pack. He spared a glance at Arthalion, who was beset by two of the creatures, having killed one. The other six creatures were holding back and Maglor thought these were the youngsters in the pack, not yet fully grown, but still a danger. He did not know if he and Arthalion would hold out against all of them before their friends came to the rescue, assuming they had heard his singing and came to investigate. As he slashed at one of his attackers, he felt something wet on his cheeks and then he found himself fighting in the midst of snowfall that had worsened from a few soft flakes to icy sleet in a matter of minutes as the wind picked up. He did not bother looking to where the storm was barreling down on them all; he did not have that luxury.

Somehow in the course of the battle against the creatures, he had moved closer to the hills, their dark slopes a bulwark behind him. He continued singing, though he was fast coming to the end of the lament and wondered what else he could sing, wondering where Gilgaran, Saelmir and Celepharn were and why weren’t they there helping him and Arthalion. Then, he suddenly lost his balance when a gust of wind drove snow directly into his face, blinding him and he stumbled, falling even as two of the creatures leaped at him. That both saved his life and nearly ended it, for as he flailed about, trying to regain his balance, he fell sideways so that his back was exposed. Faintly he heard something hiss past him, a sound he knew but could not immediately identify. There was a strangled snarl and then something fell on top of him, ripping his back to shreds. He screamed and even as he heard another hissing sound he spiraled into darkness and knew nothing more.

****

Pain was the first thing he felt, a fire that was both hot and cold all down his back and he wanted nothing more than to slip back into the blessed darkness where the pain could not touch him. He might have made a sound, a whimper or a curse, he never knew, but then someone was by him, lifting his head and pouring something cold down his throat.

Water! It felt so good and he did not realize how parched he was, yet only a few sips and then he was retching and the pain intensified until he could take no more and he spiraled down into darkness again, hoping this time he would never wake up….

“…out of this storm.”

“…our camp… not far now…”

The voices were about him and he felt himself moving though he made no movement himself. It took several seconds for him to realize that someone was carrying him. The pain was now a dull throb that beat against him like an inexorable wave and he wanted very much to scream but he no longer had the strength.

“Here… cave near…”

They had stepped out of the raging storm which Maglor had felt only as a freezing wetness upon his skin, but it had never really penetrated his consciousness. Only when they stepped into the cave did he register the fact that he was no longer being drenched in icy sleet. There was light and a sense of warmth but he did not open his eyes.

“Let’s see how badly he’s hurt,” he heard someone say though it was too hard to bother identifying the voice.

They laid him face down as gently as they could and he felt the rough texture of blankets and someone placed their fur cloak under his cheek as a pillow. He whimpered as fire rolled up and down his back.

“I’m sorry,” he heard the person say. “I’ll try not to hurt you too much. Get the water boiling, will you Celepharn? Saelmir, see to Arthalion.”

Then Gilgaran — he now recognized the ellon’s voice — began to strip him of his shredded tunic and this time he did scream and then succumbed to darkness once again….

Warm… he was too warm… He tried to throw off the blankets but his arms would not obey him and he couldn’t seem to move.

“He’s burning up.”

“Let’s try to get more water in him so he does not become dehydrated.”

“Carefully. We don’t want to spoil all our good work. That’s it. Easy now. Arthalion, lift his head. Just a sip. That’s it. One more. Good. We’ll give you more later, Maglor. We don’t want you to be sick again. Gently now. That’s it.”

All the while, Maglor had lain there, letting the others do all the work for him. He never opened his eyes, too exhausted to try as he attempted to sort out the voices and put names to them. He couldn’t do that, either, but the sound of his friends speaking was a comfort and he basked in it. It had been too long since anyone had tended to him. He frowned, or thought he had, trying to remember when he was last so injured to need tending by others. It was too much and he sank into oblivion once more even as he tried to ask the one question that burned in him: where in the name of the Belain were they?

That question met him when he woke to find himself in a cave. He was lying on his stomach. There was a fire nearby and at first he thought he was alone but even as he moved his head a fraction someone was there kneeling beside him, placing a hand gently on his head.

“Maglor, try not to move yet,” he heard Gilgaran say.

“I may have no choice,” he managed to say, though it came out in a rough whisper that didn’t quite sound like his voice.

There was a momentary pause. “Oh. All right… um… Saelmir… a little help here.”

Maglor felt himself almost grinning at the discomfiture he sensed in the ellon’s voice but then he concentrated on not screaming as Gilgaran and Saelmir lifted him up. Waves of nausea swamped him and everything started spinning and he fought not to be sick as the two ellyn led him away from the fire to the back of the cave. He just managed not to pass out again and was able to do what he needed while his friends held him in place. He tried to apologize, feeling embarrassed by it all, but Gilgaran just shook his head.

“Not the first time. I have done my share of nursing in ages past.”

“Do you think you can eat something, Maglor?” Saelmir asked as they led him back to the fire.

But the very thought of food made him feel ill and he shook his head, hissing at the pain that simple gesture caused him.

“Perhaps you can sip on some broth,” Gilgaran suggested as they helped him back down on the blanket. “You need to stay hydrated and keep up your strength.”

Maglor could only nod, too exhausted to say anything. He closed his eyes, listening to the soft sounds of the two ellyn puttering about the cave. Further away he heard the howl of the storm still raging. Opening his eyes, he took in his surroundings.

“Where are Celepharn and Arthalion?” he asked as he realized that those two were missing from their group.

“Out scouting,” Gilgaran answered. “Those creatures, or at least the ones who escaped us, are still out there. Celepharn and Arthalion are checking to see where they may have gone.”

“Surely they are not still in these hills?” Maglor asked in disbelief as he accepted the bowl of broth from Gilgaran. “I would think any who survived would have gone directly back to the mountains.”

“So you would think,” Saelmir said, “but Arthalion seems to think otherwise and….”

He was interrupted by the sound of someone approaching from outside and Maglor looked to see Celepharn and Arthalion brushing out the snow from their cloaks as they came toward the fire. Both ellyn smiled in relief at the sight of Maglor sitting up and sipping on the broth.

Before either could speak, Gilgaran began questioning them. “What news?”

“They’re out there,” Celepharn said with a grimace. “They didn’t go far, just to the ridge south of us where they can oversee the cave.”

“They are watching us,” Arthalion added, “and they are waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Maglor asked.

“Waiting for us to make the next move,” Gilgaran answered. “We cannot stay here for very much longer. We’re running out of food and this storm does not seem to want to let up.”

“That may be in our favor,” Celepharn commented. “Arthalion and I were able to approach the creatures far closer than we could have without the storm concealing us. If we leave while it’s still raging, those creatures may not even realize it until it’s too late.”

“Yet, we have Maglor to consider,” Saelmir said. “He can barely stand and we cannot carry him. It’s a pity we have nothing with which to make a travois, then he can at least travel, but as it is….”

“You can always leave me behind and make a run for it,” Maglor suggested.

“Are you mad or still fevered?” Arthalion demanded. “We leave no one behind.”

“I cannot run,” Maglor said in a reasonable tone. “If you leave everything behind and travel light you may win out and reach the settlement for help. Those creatures seem disinclined to venture into this cave, so I’m likely to be safe enough so long as the storm and this fire lasts.”

“What if I stay with Maglor,” Saelmir suggested. “He’s going to need help in tending to his needs.”

‘We all go or none go,” Gilgaran stated.

“Then we can only hope that the storm will last long enough to force those creatures to give up the chase,” Arthalion said.

“They do not strike me as the giving up sort,” Celepharn rejoined with a grimace.

“We will go,” Maglor said.

They all looked at him as if he were out of his mind and perhaps he was, but he knew that they could not stay in the cave forever. They needed to leave as soon as possible.

“You cannot even stand by yourself….” Gilgaran started to say but Maglor cut him off.

“We will go. Give me a little time and I will be well enough.”

“You cannot run, not in your condition,” Saelmir objected.

“Then we will walk, but we will walk together,” Maglor retorted with no little heat. “To remain here is to court only death.”

“And braving this storm and those creatures when you cannot even lift a sword to defend yourself isn’t?” Arthalion demanded, looking disgusted. “And everyone thought I was insane.”

Maglor grinned at his friend. “That is why you are here, to protect me. I do not say we should leave immediately. I must rest more and heal as much as possible, but we should not delay our journey for long. I suggest we abandon as much as we dare to lighten our load. Only Saelmir’s map should not be left behind. That is too valuable. Now I must sleep.” He handed the empty bowl to Arthalion who happened to be the closest and attempted to lie down but needed help in doing so, sighing with relief as he settled on his stomach and drifted off to the sound of the others conversing softly, no doubt discussing his mental state rather than his physical one.

When he came to again, it seemed nothing had changed. He glanced about to see Arthalion sitting beside him, staring into the fire in contemplation. The others he could not see from his position. The storm still seemed to rage outside, though it sounded less virulent and he thought perhaps it was dying out. That would not serve them if they meant to sneak away. He attempted to sit up but did not make it very far before the pain became excruciating.

“Here, let me help you,” Arthalion said and after a couple of awkward moments Maglor found himself sitting up, two cloaks pillowing his back as he leaned against a nearby boulder.

“Thank you,” he gasped, trying to stop the world from spinning. Arthalion handed him a bowl which he had filled with water and Maglor took it gratefully. When the world had steadied, he asked, “Where are the others? How long have I been sleeping?”

“They’re out scouting the best way to go from here and you’ve been sleeping, as far as we can tell, for two days.”

“Two… how long have we been here?”

Arthalion shrugged. “My guess, close to a week, perhaps more. It’s hard to tell night from day with this storm and you were rather out of it for several days, burning up with fever. We even had to pack you in snow at one point.”

“I don’t remember,” Maglor said, closing his eyes.

“I would be surprised if you did,” Arthalion said. “How are you feeling now?”

“Weak, but clear-headed. If I need to, I can leave now.”

“It would be better if you could wait a couple of more days and….”

“We may not have that luxury.”

Maglor and Arthalion looked up as Gilgaran came into the cave followed by Celepharn and Saelmir.

“What do you mean?” Maglor asked.

“This storm is abating,” Gilgaran replied. “In an hour or three it will have passed over. We need to be away from here before then.”

“Help me up,” Maglor ordered, already struggling to rise. Arthalion and Gilgaran grabbed his arms and lifted him. He hissed from the pain, but forced himself not to black out, taking deep breaths. The others looked upon him with concern and neither Arthalion nor Gilgaran let him go. “I’m all right,” he said. “Just give me a moment.”

“Douse the fire,” Gilgaran ordered.

“No, don’t do that,” Maglor countermanded. “Arthalion and I were able to see your fire from the plains. If we leave the fire burning, those creatures may think we’re still here.”

“That may buy us some time,” Saelmir said in agreement.

“Take only what we need and leave the rest,” Gilgaran ordered. “It will be a long, cold and very hungry journey, but that cannot be helped.”

“Let us hope that the journey does not end with us dying either from the elements or the cats,” Celepharn said with a mirthless smile.

“It will be what it will be,” Maglor said philosophically as he attempted to walk a few paces unaided. It was difficult but he managed to stay upright and the more he walked the less fiery his back felt.

Within minutes, they were ready or as ready as they would ever be. Gilgaran insisted that Saelmir and Arthalion stay on either side of Maglor and help him. “We need to climb down to the plains and the going is rough.”

“Should we not stay in the hills?” Maglor asked. “At least then we have more shelter. The plains are too open and the cats will be able to outrun us.”

“They can outrun us either way,” Gilgaran retorted, “because we cannot run at all with you injured. I deem the plains will give us a smoother trail and we will be able to travel more quickly. Come. Let us not waste time in arguing. Did you not say I was the leader? Then let me lead.”

To that Maglor had no argument and he simply nodded, allowing Arthalion and Saelmir to help him with a cloak. It was Arthalion’s for Maglor’s cloak had been shredded. When Maglor protested, the ellon insisted he did not need it. “You forget, I lived here for a very long time and wore precious little. I am more inured to the cold than you and you are injured. Now, stop arguing. We must go.”

Maglor gave in with as much grace as he could and kept silent as they exited the cave. The storm seemed as vicious as he remembered it from earlier and was nearly as blinding. From the darkness he assumed it must be night. They made their way down a treacherous path and Maglor was grateful for the help. By the time they reached the plains he was drenched in sweat but he refused to let them stop.

“Go! We cannot linger,” he shouted against the storm.

The others nodded and they set off at a pace that was more a quick walk, but at that moment it was all that Maglor could manage and he had to grit his teeth to prevent himself from screaming. Arthalion and Saelmir never left his side, but helped steady him and it was not long before they were practically dragging him along, for he felt himself retreating into himself as they struggled on. He wondered vaguely if his cousins who had suffered the Helcaraxë had done something similar.

And somewhere behind them, there was more than the howling of the storm on the wind.