The Thieves of Tharbad by AliceNWonder000137  

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Ours is but to do or die

Mercatur leads the expedition into the Yfelwood to eradicate the Blood-Wights and the mother of vampires.

Warning - a scene of intimacy.

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50) The Yfelwood - Ivanneth (September) 15^th, 1410

Mercatur

They moved along the old path towards Blogath’s Vale as the sun dipped down beneath gray clouds, a few beams of light cast upon the group.  This was the very path that they took after the Battle of the Tirthon in 1407.  Memories came flooding back to Mercatur after seeing the skeleton of one of Nasen’s men alongside the road, the lower jaw entirely torn away by Finculion when they tried to attack he and Alquanessë.  The bones of the hand that she had bitten off of another also lay there with the rusty dagger that the man had tried to stab her with.

Alquanessë pointed down at the hand from the saddle.  “I told him that he’d need that dagger.  Did he listen?”

Mercatur snorted.  He was in no mood to laugh, but that was pretty funny. “Shit, Dagar, you remember how it was snowing in summer when we came here?”

“Absolutely unnatural, good sir,” Dagar answered as he swished the reins of his horse to keep it from eating leaves from a nearby tree.

The elf looked up into the darkening gray sky.  “I have it on good authority that it was the Witch-King’s doing.  At least that is what I tore from Ethacali’s mind.”

The captain nodded.  “Heh, I figured.  Hey, Dagar, you even hear what happened to Nasen and his last stooge?”

Dagar shrugged.  “Last I heard they were running to Gondor to try and make a new life.  I lost track after that.  Don’t care either.”

Finculion pointed back at the skeleton. “Well, one of them is there. You’ll never lose track of him.”

Mercatur chuckled.  “Shit, you both are kind of funny.  You’re growing on me, you know that?”

Alquanessë looked back and bared her fangs for a moment in fun.  “Like a fungus, I’m sure.”

It was getting more and more difficult to see as it grew darker and a fog seemed to be forming in the vale.  “Damn, just what we need.  Fog,” the captain complained.  “I really want to press on, but I think we need to make camp.”

Hirgrim nodded.  “I really had hoped to finish this all by sunset, but we’d end up stumbling around in the night fog.  You guys start setting up.  I’ll set out some traps and warning devices,” he said, dismounting.

Mercatur dismounted too, patting the ranger on the back.  “Good man. I still remember running into you up ahead and I’m damn glad we didn’t fight.”

The ranger smirked, a scar above his lip stretching.  “I had you down cold.  I had an arrow drawn on your filthy beard.  But I’m not an idiot.  I wasn’t going down with Ethacali.”

The captain snickered.  “Ah, life in Rhudaur.  An enemy one day is a friend the next.  Hey, uh, what about the Cultirith?  Why are you alone?”

A dark look came over Hirgrim’s face, and he pointed up ahead.  “Them…they took them all.  I’m the last.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.  We’re going to get revenge for a lot of people.”  He knew that Hirgrim would’ve fought to the last moment of hope for his rangers.

The twelve members of the cohort began setting up tents and building fires as the four Guardsmen surveyed the ground for defensibility.  Silmarien placed glyphs and wards around with her staff as Hirgrim set up simple traps and natural devices to give warning if anyone passed.  “Won’t help against anyone coming from above, but if anyone walks by, pow!”

The fog began to float over them, a cool, moist feeling.  Jaabran waved his hand around as if it would dispel the fog.  “Bah, give me the clear, cold night of the Sîrayn Desert.  At least you can see the Mal’azaud coming. Here, they could be in your tent, snuggling with you and you’d never know.  Well, some of them are quite comely so, I guess that would be alright.”

“But they were all guys, though, right?” Mercatur quipped, getting a few laughs.

Jaabran had to chuckle.  “Eh, when they look that good, it doesn't matter.”

Elladan and Elrohir then rode up from the vale and dismounted.  “We scouted ahead and it’s quiet, but we can feel a malevolent presence.  They’re here,” Elladan told them.

Neldis and Coru had already brought out some of the rations and were preparing them and Silmarien started a cooking fire with a touch of her staff.  Alquanessë walked by.  “I think we might need some of that Silima tonight.  I can feel Blogath stirring.  We’ll be attacked in the early morning, I’m sure of it.”

The mage nodded and tapped her pouch. “I’ll have it ready.”

Valandil of the Guard was speaking with Corporal Parven of the cohort, giving him pointers on fighting in formation. Mercatur walked the small perimeter, seeing hidden spikes and caltrops that Hirgrim had left.  The fog would better hide those against their enemies. He wanted to do something, anything to keep his mind occupied as it kept wandering back to his interaction with Nirnadel.  What foolish things he said.  He should have kept it to himself.  Now, he made himself weak and likely caused her to be the same.  No feelings, he told himself.  And of all places to have it happen, the hard heart of Rhudaur.  Shit.  He took a swig of Hirgrim’s firewater and passed the flask to the ranger.  He really wanted to press on into the vale and hit the temple now, get the damn thing done and over with but that would be stupid.  Just a waste of lives.  “Looks good. Thanks, Hirgrim,” he muttered as they went back to the camp.

The ranger pointed off to the east. “I left us an escape route if things go bad.  We head east, hit the forest and then we can either turn south, back to the Tirthon or continue to Castle Amrodan.  If we have to retreat, I’ll throw traps in their faces…buy us time.”

“Yeah, they’re likely to hit from the north, closest to the vale.”

Alquanessë joined them.  “I asked Silmarien to keep the Silima ready tonight.  I know that Blogath will come before dawn.  I can feel it.  When we’re in the temple we need to destroy the altar.  You remember it, don’t you?  It was the focal point of Sauron’s power here.  It’s where we performed the blood sacrifices to him.  I’m sure that was how they brought Thuringwethil back. It will rob them of much of their power. It might even destroy the great vampire.”

“Will it hurt you and Finculion?” the captain asked, concerned for their welfare.

She put a hand over her heart. “I’m touched, but no.  We rejected Sauron.  It’s the reason that Blogath is so much more powerful than we are.”

He smiled.  “That’s good to know.”

“As of now, though, only we Blood-Wights and Silmarien have the magic to destroy it.  You can’t just take an axe to it like you were hoping.”

Mercatur snorted a cynical chuckle. “There’s always a catch, isn’t there?”

“Always.”  The elf motioned back to the cooking fire that already had a pot over it.  “Shall we? I will bring about some music to soothe us and shield our minds from Blogath.”  They went back to sit as soldiers took their sentry posts.

The captain went to them briefly, telling the sentries that he would relieve them shortly and stand first and last watch through the night.  Alquanessë brought out her lap harp and began plucking notes that were visible as a golden mist, rising from the instrument.  A vision of stars forming in the sky appeared as Arda was formed, two massive lamps rising from the earth.  She paused for a moment and looked at Neldis.  “Come here, dear girl,” she said and the nurse came to her. The elf touched her face and blew a puff of air onto her.  “So much pain.  So much sorrow.  I feel your heart.”

The nurse gave a bittersweet smile. “Nirnadel told me your story when she was in the infirmary.  You’ve had your share too.”

“I have.  Like you, I was used.  My body was a mere tool for Sauron.  I know your pain.  I know that you desire to be a minstrel.  Search your mind now for the seed that I planted and let it blossom,” the elf said and then went back to plucking the strings of her harp.

A single tear ran down Neldis’ cheek. “I feel it.  I can feel it.”

Alquanessë played a melodious chord. “Let your voice be the music of the Ainur for tonight,” she said and Neldis began to vocalize in a soothing, mystical soprano.  There were no words as she blended in harmony with the harp, just highs and lows like a flowing stream that built into a powerful ocean.  The elf smiled.  “Let your heart be free.  Let evil know that we cannot be conquered.”

The people sat or stood, enthralled, absorbing the music into their souls.  Mercatur breathed deeply, feeling his pain, his doubt, his worry evaporate into mist.  Whatever happened between he and Nirnadel happened.  What might come, might come.  Right now, he was part of the cosmic stream, embraced by the vision of Illuvatar.

The voice and the harp died away and Alquanessë smiled warmly.  “Everyone, find your strength and spirit tonight for we will need them.  Our music will weaken our enemies and grant us power. But know that they are still dangerous and deadly.  I sense that Nirnadel knows this for I can feel her song unfolding now.  It will lessen Thuringwethil should she attack them tonight.  Perhaps that just might be the edge that they need.”

Neldis embraced her.  “I have received so many gifts recently.  I am truly blessed.  Never would have imagined bring friends with a princess and one of the Noldor.”

Alquanessë grinned.  “We’re not friends,” she said and Neldis looked shocked and hurt.  “We are sisters, you and I.  Though millennia separate us, we are of the same heart.  I was a whore for Sauron’s evil.  They called me a succubus, a corruptor of men’s souls and a demon of the night.  I did vile things and was degraded too many times to count…as were you.”  Neldis blew out a sigh of relief and they embraced again.

“I am so sorry…so sorry,” the nurse said. “Thank you…my sister.”

Mercatur nodded.  “Hrmph, I had a soft spot for Dagar.  Cast off, disinherited, called a wastrel.  I always wanted to both please my dad and reject him at the same time, always chasing something that I couldn’t have or couldn’t be. We were one in the same.”

Dagar chuckled.  “Good Mercatur, while on the waenhosh, I could never figure out why you were so good to me.”

“Eh, I got a soft spot for hopeless cases.”

Alquanessë reached out and touched the captain’s cheek.  “You know, I think that this is the first time that you’ve been honest with yourself. And for your heart, what will be will be.  If it’s right, it will happen.  I may have found someone recently.  My life has been full of pain, loneliness and regret.  I just hope that I will be happy and loved.”

It never really sank in with him before, but she was right.  How was it that a being so ancient and so wise appeared to be so young and innocent? If anything, she appeared to be Neldis’ age.  It was impossible to fully comprehend their immortality.  He nodded silently, forcing a smile that he really didn’t feel.  He always thought that he was honest with himself: fighting, drinking, screwing and then getting up and doing it all over again.  But tonight, it felt like a weight had been lifted off of him.

He took a moment to look at the two women, comparing.  Like Nirnadel, Neldis was gorgeous.  If they wore the same clothes and didn’t speak or move, he could scarcely tell them apart.  At least with Galadel, he saw small differences.  And Neldis was smart and edgy.  Alquanessë was on a whole other plane, ethereally beautiful, otherworldly, standing a full head taller than Neldis and a touch taller than he.  She was one of the Firstborn and he had heard that her mother was one of the most fair of that race.  What was her mother’s name again?  Those damn Quenya names were all tongue twisters.  It even took him a while to pronounce Alquanessë’s name right. He grunted and took another swig.  Useless musings of an idle mind.

He ate some of the meat and cheese that Maelil gave them, stuffing them between two slices of bread for a makeshift sandwich.  He thought about another swig of firewater, but he would need his wits tonight.  He had learned when to quit.  Coru had just finished brewing up coffee.  Just in time.  She was a plump Eriadoran girl that been with the Houses for years now. Her hair was light brown and cut short, down the neck and she wore the gray nurse’s uniform with a white apron. She was quiet, mousy, always in the background but he had to admire her courage today.  When he said, hey, let’s go off into the woods and fight an ancient demon that drinks blood and rips people to shreds, she said ‘fine.’  Coru began passing out mugs full of the dark liquid. The smell alone was pure ecstasy. He chomped his meal down quickly and chased it with the coffee, then getting up to relieve the sentries.  “You guys go eat.  I got this for a while.”

He stood there, scanning out beyond the range of the lanterns, looking up and down for any sign of attack.  He figured that they would come from above but just how much warning would he even have.  The best hope was that the Blood-Wights could feel their siblings and sound an alarm.  But what about Thuringwethil?  Too many unknowns.

People were settling into the tents after, the cooking fire dying down to red embers, popping and crackling.  Valandil and another Guard stood at the other end of the camp, which was small enough to be able to stay in visual contact and the Blood-Wights took another corner with Elrond’s sons at the last.  At a larger tent, the cohort stacked their spears just outside for easy access.  He wished that he had a group of elite Raggers with him, but he had to make do, and these men here were brave, no doubt about it.  Either that or they were all fools for joining up.  Neldis walked up to him with a refill of coffee and had one for herself.  She handed it to him with a smile.  “What do you think our chances are?” she asked seriously.

“Honestly?” he said with a deep sigh, scratching his beard.  “Well, I want to tell you good, but I’m thinking slim.  You know, you never should have come on this.  You’ve just found a good life and…and we may never return. Or, I suppose that we could end up becoming more of that nut case vampire’s children.  How bad could that be?” he joked.  “Live forever, fly around naked.  What’s not to like?”

She giggled.  “No, I’m where I need to be.  So many people have given me so much.  How could I just shit on them and run away?  Trust me, I’m scared to death.  I want nothing more than to curl up in my bed in the Houses and have this all be a bad dream…well, a lot good and some bad.  But the bad is really bad.”

“You can say that again,” he said, taking a sip of coffee and then inhaling the aroma and warming his hands on the mug.

She drank a few sips, warming her hands as well and then wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders.  “You see, while much of me is filled with fear, it’s not fear of death.  A year ago, I would’ve welcomed it.  You don’t know how many times I wanted to jump off of the Iant Formen…have my body wash out to sea, never to be seen or heard from again.  People would think, hey, she escaped that life and is living high on the hog in Gondor,” she said with a sad chuckle.  “So, it was fear of living.”

“Well, the world would be poorer without you in it.”

She smiled.  “That is kind of you to say.  It was Îuldis who kept me from jumping…well, and I kept her from jumping too. I really miss her.  You know, I like that elf lady,” she said, changing the subject.  “She gets me. Nirnadel told me about how Sauron and her sister forced her to kill children and prostitute herself to grow Sauron’s minions.  I had it bad, but that…that is…I don’t even have the words.  If she can survive that, shit, I can survive anything.”

“You don’t know how glad I am to have you all out here with me,” he said, making eye contact.  He paused for a moment and then looked away to take another drink.

She took a breath, continuing, “When I had finally made it into Tharbad from the Shanty Town, which cost me just about all of the money that I had, I was squatting in an abandoned house on the North Bank.  Just a bunch of teens there like me.  Snow was falling in through a hole in the roof, and we all huddled together for warmth.  My dress was rags by that time.  I…ummm…got together with guy named Thang, just for warmth, really.  But he had a girlfriend, Sulwen, nasty bitch.  Threw me out on my ass in the snow.  Yeah, she never blamed him.  Well, they ran with a gang in the Shanty Town that would ambush travelers.  Never saw them again though.  I heard half of them were slaughtered by some soldiers returning from the war.  Nial and Eudail-”

“Did you say, Nial and Eudail?” he asked, thinking.  She nodded. He could have sworn he heard the names before.  Oh yeah. “Aww, shit, Valandil and I killed them. We were the soldiers returning from the war.  Firiel was with us.”

She put her hand over her mouth. “Well, I’ll be.  Small world.  Well, I went from abandoned house to abandoned house, spent my last coin on drugs. I just wanted to not think of how bad things were and they made me numb.  I thought about running back to the blacksmith but his son…oh, his breath and he…he…did things…I,” she shook, but this time it was in rage, not sorrow.

Mercatur put his hand on her shoulder and wrapped his cloak around her.  “When we’re done here, you give me his name and location.  I’ll do things.”

She nodded.  “I’ll do just that.”  She took a long drink of coffee.  “And by then, I was hooked on the drugs.  Hey, you know, those are the very drugs we use at the Houses.  They’re all illegal except for medicinal use.  Funny how something so dangerous can also be helpful. So, with no money…I used my body to get more.  Leave this world mentally…pretend it was all fine while I walked around like the undead, drooling on myself.  Funny thing, this one guy does me in a back alley for Gort and then he tells me he can get me cleaned up, work at Artan’s, I’m so beautiful and all that.  Well, the rest is history.”

He rubbed her back.  “Well, you’ve heard my tale.  Bargeman on the Gwathló.  Hauling cargo and barfights were my life until I came across Captain Telchanar and he said I would make for a good mercenary.  Dad had dispossessed me so I figured, why the hell not?  I spent ten years running up and down the Dunnish Track, escorting caravans, raiding caravans, defending towns, sacking towns. Yeah.  You know Hirgrim?  He and I have fought together and against each other a dozen times.  In Rhudaur, your enemy of today is your friend tomorrow…and the other way around.  It’s almost nothing personal.  We see each other on the opposing side and try not to kill each other.”

“That sounds…absolutely crazy.  I’m a Cardolan girl through and through.  I don’t get this Rhudauran shit.”

“Once the kingdom fell apart, it’s mostly tribes and mercenaries out here.  So that’s me.  Just a jumped up bargeman in a uniform that’s too big for him.”

Corporal Parven and another mercenary came up to them and saluted, fists on their chests.  “We’re here to relieve you, captain.  You get some rest and have a good night, both of you,” the corporal said. He was a stocky, swarthy kid, likely in his early 20s with a brown beard that was little more than peach fuzz.  The other kid looked like he was barely into his teens.

He patted them on the back.  “Stay frosty, lads.  Alquanessë thinks that they’ll hit us early morning.  I’ll be back up by then.”

They headed to the tents, him tossing what little coffee he had left.  “Thank you, Neldis.  I enjoyed our talk.  Just a pair of poor, lost souls, making their way.”  He turned to go.

She stopped him, pulling his hand. She pulled his head down to her and kissed him.

“What was that for?” he asked, narrowing one eye.

She paused a moment.  “I haven’t been with a man since I left Artan’s.  I just want it to be my choice now.  I know that you’re in love with Nirnadel…I mean, who isn’t?  Dammit, I love her too.  I don’t know. Maybe I’m stupid.”

He cocked his head.  “Uh, how did you know?”

She looked at him like he was an idiot. “Shit, Merc, I see the way that you look at her, the way that your voice softens when you speak to her.  We ladies see this, you know.”

He shorted out a soft chuckle. “Damn, I thought you were a mind reader like Alquanessë.  Well, it’ll never be,” he said with a shrug.  “She’ll become Queen of Cardolan and marry King Araphor of Arthedain and reunite the two kingdoms and I’m just a former bargeman, sweating for a living.”

She tugged his hand again.  “No, not just a former bargeman but a captain of mercenaries, a man who risks all for his friends and wins battles.  You held me by the shoulders and burst into the quarantine room, knowing that you couldn’t leave and would get the curse because you had to help Firiel and make it right.  I saw you with Îuldis, the way you helped her, the way that you wept when she passed.  The way that you reacted, when you thought Firiel was gone…Nirnadel holding you.  I saw it all,” she said in a soft voice full of empathy.

“I was just being kind, that’s all,” he lied.  “You don’t know what I am, deep down.”

Well…just give me this one night to feel something because we may not get another,” she gazed up into his eyes, hers full of pain and sadness, but also longing and hope.  She straightened her back and performed a well-practiced curtsey, almost ready for the Cardolan Royal Court.  “Tomorrow, we go into Blogath’s lair.  Only one side will leave.  So, you can pretend that I’m her.  I praythee, good sir, if you would kindly indulge a lady one small favor, I would be most appreciative,” she said in a decent royal accent.

He gave her a sly grin.  Did he even see this coming?  It didn’t matter.  “You don’t have to pretend, Neldis.  I like you just the way you are,” he said, letting her pull him to the tent.  “You’re smart, a wisecracker, edgy…I like that.  We mesh.  I could talk to you for hours and never run out of things to say.  Nirnadel…she’s out there.  It’s like…it’s like trying to get to the moon,” he said, pointing upwards. “Alquanessë would be like trying to get to the sun, it’d be hot, but you’d end up fried, or like screwing that Varda woman or whatever her name is.  Neldis, you’re down to Middle Earth like me.”

They went inside the tent where Jaabran was snoring.  She pushed him down on the cot.  “Oh, shut up, you big dumb mercenary,” she said as she pulled off her stained nurse’s apron.  She slid on the cot next to him and hiked up her simple dress and then undid his belt.

He pointed his thumb at Jaabran and gave her a quizzical look.  “Umm?”

“Merc, I’ve umm, been in a room full of people when customers asked for that.  One sleeping almost priest doesn’t bother me.”  She yanked his breeches down.  “Your still having armor on isn’t a big deal either.  Had that before.  Full plate, even.  Tough to reach.  And I know you have to get up and fight at any minute.”  She held him for a moment and then bent over him.  “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He tried to laugh, but stifled it, groaning instead.  “Go gentle on me,” he said with a smirk.  “It’s been a while.”

Neldis giggled.  “I never thought I would ever say the same thing.”

How strange was this…being with someone he actually cared about without money changing hands.  His thoughts quickly dissolved as she climbed onto him. Now, he was worried about waking Jaabran.  Oh screw it. He wouldn’t care.  Mercatur opened his eyes and thought he’d see Nirnadel, but he only saw Neldis.  She leaned down on his chest, her black hair brushing on him, tickling his face, the sweet smell of lilac mixed with a little sweat and dirt from the day’s travel.  He grabbed her by the shoulders and moved her back a bit.  “Let me see you.”

She made a faraway smile, eyes closed as he grabbed her waist and pulled her tight.  How did he miss this?  He was looking at the stars when something was right in front of him.  She pulled her dress down from her shoulders and he gazed at her as she rocked back and forth.  Time seemed to stand still.  It was like the music, floating in his head, building, intense.  He dug his nails into her waist, and she moaned in satisfaction, still looking up, eyes dreamy.  She threw herself onto his chest again, panting, quivering as he shook, squeezing her body with his hands.  Their breathing merged, becoming one.

She pushed hair out of her face, gazing at him through dangling tresses.  “Thank you,” she said, breathlessly, just above a whisper.

He snorted, gasping for air.  “Why are you thanking me?  I think you owe me a gold crown.  I’m cheap.”

She snickered, still rocking on him. “Nah, you’re only worth five silver.”

“Make it five silver and five bronze and you have a deal.  I think I should’ve negotiated price first.”

She slapped him playfully.  She sucked her teeth and gave him a skeptical look. “I don’t know, I did all of the work. But eh, I’m rolling in gold so done. Delivery comes in two weeks.”

He rolled her to the side and slid his arm under her neck and pulled her close.  Her warmth, her scent, he was…happy.  At least, right now he was.  He could hear Jaabran still snoring.  Thank Manwë for small favors.  “Can we stop time right here?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I was hoping for back fifteen minutes.  Oh, wait a minute,” she began with a sly grin.  “You’re the Mal’azaud, that Jaabran was warning us about?  I should have listened.  Too foggy, I never saw you coming.”

A sleepy voice sounded from the other cot.  “That’s why we want to be in the Sîrayn Desert.  Now please, go Mal’azaud someplace else or keep it down.  The mercenary needs some sleep.  You’re giving him nightmares.”

Neldis’ mouth opened wide and then she covered it with both hands.  They both burst into uncontrollable laughter.  He felt like a kid again, safe, cared for.  It felt…weird.

Jaabran raised his hand in what Mercatur thought would be an obscene gesture, but he only raised his index finger. “Blessed Tayee, Master of Sands, dreamed and from his slumbering thoughts the world was created.  Now Tayee can’t make shit if he’s not slumbering so please let Tayee make shit.”

Mercatur and Neldis snuggled on the cot as Jaabran went back to snoring.  Maybe there was something to this settling down nonsense.  He knew that he shouldn’t get his hopes up though.  Life had a way of knocking you down when you were standing high.  Eh, it was time to get some shut eye.  The Blood-Wights would make sure he was up for last shift.  Then, tomorrow, they would dare to challenge a Maia.

As he dreamed, he could sense something pushing along the edge of his consciousness, like fingers probing his memories.  He shuddered and his mind went to the golden mist that floated above the lap harp.  He sighed and the probe lessened and faded into nothing.  Someone shook him awake.  It was Finculion.  “Get ready,” the elf said.  “They’ll be coming soon.  We can feel it.”

He extricated himself from Neldis and rocked her awake.  “Hey, it’s time.  Get with Coru and prep for casualties.”  It was still dark with the sound of crickets.  The air was moist, likely ready to rain.  By the time he was a teen, he could tell the upcoming weather just by feel.  It was always something that served him well in Rhudaur.  In Cardolan, the air was screwed up, but here.  This was his home and nobody messed up his home.  He went to pick up his axe, but something held him back.  “Neldis, you gotta let me go get ready.”  He looked back at her, and she shook her head.

“Not me.  You gotta pull your pants up, tough mercenary.”

He looked down and groaned, rolling his eyes and yanking his breeches up.  “What you do to me,” he said with a sigh.  He turned back and kissed her and then picked up his barbute helmet.  “I’ll be right out here.  Be ready.  I don’t know what they’re gonna do.  If we have to retreat, go east, remember.”  He had a million other things to say, but now was not the time.

He walked out to the smoldering cooking fire, where Alquanessë and Silmarien stood, eyes searching the night. The elf gestured to the north.  “I feel them.  Not just Blogath and Balisimur…others…a lot.  I don’t…I don’t feel Thuringwethil though,” she said softly, eyes never moving from the night sky.

Silmarien held up her staff slowly. “When they attack, I’m going to clear the fog and light up every torch and lantern in the camp.  It’s only temporary but it’ll give us an edge up front.”

He looked back to see the men of the cohort coming out of their tent, grabbing spears.  The sons of Elrond were already at the flanks, ready to fight and Valandil had the Guard up and armored in their silver plate.  Jaabran came out in his red and gold lamellar coat, gold-colored scales, interlaced together for better protection.  He put his turbaned helmet on with the chainmail aventail rolled up over his eyes.  Dagar was with Neldis and Coru, holding the crossbow that Mercatur gave him back on the waenhosh.

Alquanessë tapped him on the chest. “I suggest that you deploy your men to the northeast.  They’re coming.  Two in the air and many on the ground.  If need be, we’ll take to the sky to keep them off of you."

Mercatur raised his hand.  “Cohort to the northeast!  Line of battle!  Lock shields! Guard, protect their flanks!”  Corporal Parven rushed ahead and put the tip of his sword on the ground and the dozen men ran up along the imaginary line and held their spears at the ready with a shout.  Everyone peered out into the foggy night, waiting for battle.

“Here they come!” Parven called out as crazed tribesmen climbed over the wooden palisade, followed by shambling corpses, pale and drained of blood.  Dagar and Mercatur fired crossbow bolts, striking tribesmen, knocking them back over the wall. The Guard followed with four bolts, unable to miss with the mass of enemy coming over and arrows struck true from the sons of Elrond.  Some tribesmen fell over screaming and holding their feet as they stepped on caltrops left by Hirgrim.  Others fell into shallow pits, filled with spikes.  Parven made a downward chop and spears stabbed into bodies with a battle cry. The tribesmen beat on the shield wall, but spears pulled back and thrust again with a shout.  Bodies began to pile up in front.  Even the crazed attackers paused.  This would be no easy win for them.  The fog hurt and helped both sides.  It was hard to know who was who and where anyone was.  You had to be careful.

Mercatur reloaded his crossbow, scanning the sky which was mostly just damn fog.  He wanted to wade in with his axe, but he knew what was up front was just a distraction.  He heard shrieks overhead.  Alquanessë and Finculion cast off their robes and leapt into the sky.  He could just make out the two slamming into Blogath and Balisimur, four bodies tumbling through the air.  Alquanessë raked her claws down her sister’s side and they screeched at each other like angry birds.  Blogath pushed her palm out and a shockwave threw her sister spinning away, but Alquanessë unfurled her wings, stabilized and then charged right back.  Blogath knocked her away and then dove at the ground, ripping one of the cohort into the air, blood streaming down from the limp body. This was like when Gamrid was killed. This was the Tirthon all over again. Mercatur felt his nerves wavering as he fired another bolt.

Finculion and Balisimur faced off, a black hand and a half sword in Finculion’s hands and a great two-handed maul held by his brother.  This was like a battle of the gods.  Flying, they circled for advantage, probing cuts and strikes to see any weakness. Finculion was fast, almost a blur, but one hit from Balisimur’s maul and it would be over.

The cohort was stunned by the attack from Blogath, and another man was seized and pulled away from the shield wall, daggers rising and falling on his chest as tribesmen tore him apart.  Hirgrim rushed in, eket and dagger, slicing and stabbing in a futile attempt to save the soldier.  Someone grabbed the ranger from behind and a dagger rose, but Mercatur shot a bolt into the attacker’s eye.

Silmarien came by with one of the metal cannisters.  “Show me your axe!” she called.

He took it from his belt and held it out. “Hey, we just met.  You think I’m that easy?”  Weapons had been drawn.  This was his element now.

The mage put a few drops of the silver paste on the cutting edge.  “I know you’re that easy.  Now, go fight!”  She ran over to the Guard and the others, putting a few drops on each weapon.  “Glȃncala!” she called, invoking an incantation, and pounded her staff into the ground.  With a snap, the fog evaporated and all of the torches and lanterns flared up, casting the whole camp into light.  The defenders were ready and covered their eyes while the tribesmen winced and even some of the corpses collapsed, twitching.  Spears and swords struck the blinded enemy.

Blogath dove on the mage, snarling. Silmarien was too powerful to leave alive.  But a gull-feathered arrow sank into the vampire’s chest, and she howled in pain, spinning away as Silmarien put her staff out, a beam of light engulfing the Blood-Wight, who writhed in agony.  “Fagwaer!” she called out and Blogath’s skin sizzled, smoking.  Alquanessë then slammed into her sister, and they spun to the ground, hitting a tree and then falling into the grass, swan and falcon wings flapping wildly.

Finculion and Balisimur tumbled to earth, crashing into the ground with a thud!  Raven and eagle wings were tangled up together as the two rose, brandishing weapons.  Wings folded in as the older brother swung his maul into a tree, shattering the trunk. Finculion darted around as the tree began to fall and cut Balisimur deeply down the arm.  Blood sprayed down but with a howl, the older brother held his arm out and the wound faded into nothing.  Finculion spun around to the other side of the falling tree, but Balisimur was ready and struck him in the face with the butt of the maul, knocking him back into the trunk as the branches collapsed on him.

Mercatur charged into the horde of undead, likely slaves created by Thuringwethil for her bidding, poor people kept barely alive and forever in need of blood to keep their horrid existence going.  With the Silima, his weapon clove through them like butter, the blade sizzling as it passed through undead flesh.  Mithril longswords from the Guard stabbed and sliced in a coordinated effort, piling up bodies in front of them.  These tribesmen and the undead were Macha Mur, from Lumban’s people.  They were here for vengeance too.  Mercatur slew their leader at the Tirthon.

Alquanessë flew up and landed beside him, tearing the head off of an attacker.  “The Tirthon is under attack!  Thuringwethil is after Nirnadel!  The Princess is her prize, I have to go!”

How did he not see that coming?  “Go!  Go!  We’ll hold here,” he commanded and then landed his axe into a tribesman’s face as she flew off.  Blood sprayed onto him, and he snarled as he saw Balisimur moving to finish Finculion off.  There was nothing that he could do for Nirnadel except focus here and finish the job. He swept up his crossbow and put a bolt square in the enemy Blood-Wight’s back.  It groaned, arching its back, eagle feathers forming and fading as it turned and growled at him, rows of razor teeth flashing.

Balisimur stomped towards him, crushing a mercenary with his maul, one blow leaving a bloody paste on the ground. Sergeant Cedhron moved in and sliced the Blood-Wight on the flank with his longsword.  The vampire shrieked, looking skyward in agony.  The sergeant pulled his sword back for a thrust, but Blogath flew by and ripped him off of the ground, sinking her fangs into his neck, shredding his helmet.

“No!” Mercatur cried and put a crossbow bolt into Blogath’s gut, and she tumbled to the ground, Cedhron’s body slamming down nearby.  He was gone. Finculion tackled Balisimur, claws tearing each other to pieces.

Hirgrim grabbed him by the arm.  “Mercatur, we need to fall back east!  We’ll head back to the Tirthon!”

He shook his head and pointed to the vale.  “No, this ends now!  I’m going into the temple.  Follow me or don’t!”

Hirgrim groaned but nodded.  He already had a good gash down one cheek, just another scar for his collection.  “Fine, let’s go.”

Mercatur circled his axe over his head. “This way, follow me!” he yelled. “Dagar, this way, bring them this way!” His friend slung his crossbow and ushered the two nurses to him.  The three remaining Guard didn’t miss a beat.  Valandil had them tighten the line, slicing and stabbing between their shields in a controlled manner.  Though their friend and sergeant was gone, they continued to move slowly back to screen the retreat of the cohort, who was beginning to waver.  “Stay behind us!” Valandil ordered Corporal Parven.  “We’ll cover you!”

Mercatur and Jaabran then hit the attackers from the flank, slicing off arms and cutting flesh, any undead sizzling from the Silima.  The Macha Mur fled back and there was a break in the fighting as Elladan and Elrohir jogged up to them, trying to pick up any arrows that may have fallen.  They made the enemy pay dearly, but none of that mattered while the three vampires still flew.

They moved slowly east, Hirgrim tossing caltrops behind them as the fog rolled back in and the torches faded.  A light rain started and then intensified. The ranger made a hand signal for south and put his hand over his mouth as if he were yelling, then he moved his hand to the north and nodded.  Mercatur understood.  He and Hirgrim played this game many times in the woods when they fought with and against each other.  Jaabran smiled as Mercatur waved everyone deeper into the line of trees.

“Fall back to the Tirthon!  Fall back to the Tirthon,” Jaabran commanded. “Good order now!”

Mercatur and Hirgrim kept herding people east and then north, away from the Tirthon, Elladan and Elrohir guarding the back of the line.  “Finculion’s drawing them away too,” the elves whispered and took a knee, bows trained back at the enemy, rainwater pouring down their faces.  Angry howls sounded from the camp as the tribesmen headed south after phantom prey.  The captain slapped the ranger in the chest with the back of his hand.  “Good call.  I remember I had you running in circles last time we met though,” he whispered.

Hirgrim scoffed.  “Come on.  A mercenary outsmarting a ranger in the woods?  Give me a break.  I keep telling you Cagh and I had to make it look good.  If I took you out, who’d I have left to fight every other year?”

Neldis huddled down next to them.  “What is it with this, fight you one year, hug you the next thing in Rhudaur?  I don’t get you rock heads.”

They both snickered.  “Looks like they all headed south.  Time to make for the vale,” the captain said.  “We finish this tonight.  I just hope Alquanessë makes it in time to help Nirnadel.  If we can get to that altar before they find out, maybe…”

Silmarien came up next, having put a few wards on the ground in their wake.  “Well, unless our Blood-Wights rejoin us, I’m the only one who can destroy it so I’m going to need a good escort.  And I think they’re going to know the moment we enter the sanctuary.  I know I would set glyphs there.”  She peered through the trees to the north.  “Yeah, there’s the vale.  Come on.  Nobody goes rushing in until I’ve looked at the entrance.”  She wiped her face of water and then beckoned with her hand.  “This ends tonight.”

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Chapter End Notes

I thought I'd throw a new direction into the romance angle.  But who knows where any of this will lead?