The Court of Ardor by AliceNWonder000137  

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The Fire of the Dragon - Part 1

A look at Morelen becoming a rider of Fingon's Company.  

18)  The Fire of the Dragon – Year of the Sun 260 Yávië (Autumn)

 

Morelen

It had been over a hundred years since Morgoth’s forces raided Hithlum and were utterly defeated by Fingon, Fingolfin and the forces of the Noldor.  Morelen grew swift and strong in the service of Fingon, and she always made sure to polish her silver armor and hone Melima, her sword. Fencing, riding and archery were her passions, but she also learned the songs that Lysa sang with her and the illusions that her father had taught her.  She missed him dearly, but the joy and thrill of patrolling Ard Galen with the company of riders kept her focused.  She often thought about Ty-Ar-Rana and The Three who had mentored her so well.  In the armory of Fingon’s riders, she turned back to her armor and noticed a small splotch between the intricate designs of stars and moonlight on her breastplate.  She dipped a rag into a tin of polish and began buffing again.  The strong smell of solvent was like an old friend, comfortable and well-known.

“Are you going to polish your kit all day?” Notaldo asked, a smirk on his face.  He stood with his hands on his hips and shook his head in disgust.  They had been riding together for decades now, and he always tried to get under her skin. It always seemed to work these days.

Morelen snorted in irritation and blew her black hair from her face.  “I, for one, want to make a good impression, Notaldo.  Fingon says we are riding out again later today.  The prince’s force can’t look shabby.”  The design on her breastplate was ever so finely crafted by master armorers.  If she could just get that splotch out, it would be perfect.  She was starting to find Notaldo annoying.  He was always looking for some distraction.

Notaldo sighed audibly. “Valar be praised,” he said in resignation.  “I was hoping that you’d come to the game in the courtyard.  I was told that it would be enjoyable.  You know what that word means, right?”

“I am enjoying making sure that I don’t look shabby.  I find looking sharp enjoyable.”

“We’re also planning to travel to Nargothrond soon.  I hear that the caverns are a marvel.  Lord Finrod has made it a wonder to behold.  I think you should go.”  He turned to another warrior.  “Líreno, help me to convince Morelen to travel with us to Nargothrond.  It would do her good.”

Líreno waved his hand dismissively.  “Trust me friend, I’ve tried.  I think she’s in love with her armor.”

Morelen felt stung by the words.  She was the only woman in the company, and she had to do it three times as well to not feel inadequate.  Everything she did, she did by the book and then some.  But then she recalled a time where she sang and danced in the gardens of Ty-Ar-Rana and imagined Lysa’s warm smile at her performance.  It was a time of peace, and she felt safe in the arms of her father.  She closed her eyes and thought for a moment.  What would it hurt?  Then, she let out a grunt and put the rag down.  “Fine.  Fine. Where is this game and when do we leave for Nargothrond?”

The two men looked at each other in shock, eyes wide open.  Notaldo looked back at her, his mouth slack.  “What? Ummm…that’s…that’s great.  Let’s go.  The company is playing coron mittarion in the field.”

Morelen furrowed her brows. She had not been one for pastimes lately.  “What is that?”

Líreno rolled his eyes. “It’s only the sport for the company.  Look, there are three teams.  One team has a ball and tries to put it in a basket on a mound.  Fairly simple, but there are rules as to who can carry the ball and move it.  The defense teams try to take the ball and then do the same.  It’s a lot of fun and we always bet on the winners.  And there are…consequences for the losers.”

Notaldo slung his blue cloak around his shoulders.  “Morelen, you’re really fast.  You should play some time.  And we leave for Nargothrond in a fortnight.  I, for one, look forward to the hot springs.  I hear they are magnificent.  You will absolutely enjoy it there.”

She put her finger to her lips and imagined the caverns, beautifully carved stone with lush gardens and brilliant lights.  Songs and music would fill the halls as her father had shared.  “Maybe…  You know, that actually sounds nice.  My father visited Nargothrond after the attack on Hithlum.  He couldn’t stop raving about it and he’s not one for leisure time.”

Líreno rolled his eyes again.  “I see it runs in the family.  Come along. We’re going to introduce you to a whole new world,” he announced proudly, hands on hips.

Notaldo smiled broadly and gestured to the door.  “After all, nothing, I mean nothing has happened in over a century.  We fought off that attack in Hithlum and it’s been quiet ever since.  Now we train. We patrol.  We clean.  We train some more.  We whipped him so good I think Morgoth fell asleep or maybe he just fled back east. Either way it’s going to be a boring week again,” he said as they descended the stairs from the armory. His words made a lot of sense.   

The courtyard was alive with activity, shouting and drinking.  Members of the company were dressed down, wearing only wrappings around their waists and chasing an elf carrying a white ball.  At first, Morelen couldn’t tell who was on what side or even what the goal of the game was, but the elf carrying the ball dodged all attackers and slammed the ball into a basket on a green mound.  The players were all dirty and covered in sweat, but they were all smiles and laughter.  She found that she liked the energy.

Notaldo pointed at one team.  “See them? That’s the Mísë, the Grays.  They are the reigning champions.  This is all for fun, but the losing teams have to serve them at dinner after.  Plus, some gems change hands.”

“Oh, I see,” Morelen said, watching the action more intently.  “I think I’m starting to understand.”

Líreno pointed to another team.  “That’s great because our company team, the Telepta, the Silvers, need some replacements. That means us,” he said as he wrapped his arms around their necks and pushed them forward.  The Telepta looked beaten.  They were out of breath with slumped shoulders and long faces.  “Hey Ruscano, we’ll swap in,” he told the company captain, an elf with broad shoulders and ruddy hair pulled back in a braid.

Ruscano looked them up and down and narrowed his eyes.  “You lot,” he said skeptically in a deep, gravelly voice.  With a sour frown, he pointed at Morelen.  “This one I don’t know.  And you are?”

“Morelen, daughter of Fëatur,” she said proudly.  “I’ve been riding with this company for more than a hundred years.  I fought in Hithlum.”

“Why have I never seen you? Do you hide?”

She started to speak when Notaldo stepped in.  “She’s very diligent.  I think her sword is the sharpest and most polished in the company.  She rarely comes out of the armory.”

Ruscano snorted.  “I don’t think I have a choice here.  Our team is tapped out.  Fine.  You’re in, Polisher.”

Morelen felt stung. “My name is-”

“I don’t care what your name is girl.  Just stand over there and try not to let the Mísë put the ball in the basket.  And don’t let the Morna, the Blacks, take it either.”

Notaldo tossed his cloak to the ground and then pulled his shirt and pants off, leaving him in only a simple loincloth around his midsection.  “You don’t want to get your stuff dirty, do you?” he said and Líreno did the same.  Morelen’s mouth fell open, but she followed suit, bare chested as the rest.  She covered her upper body with her hand at first and then rolled her eyes and joined the team.  Being in a company of all men, modesty wasn’t always a priority. Standing in the group, she felt small, being so thin among hardened warriors.

The Telepta took the field, and Morelen looked around to try and determine who was who and what was what.  In an instant, the field was a blur of motion and shouting as the ball carrier dodged and weaved around blockers.  She moved towards the Mísë and tried to take the ball from him but slammed into someone and they both fell to the ground in a heap.

Morelen winced on impact and found Notaldo on top of her.  “I didn’t see you,” she said as she caught her breath.  “I’m sorry.”

“No time for sorry!” he said.  “Let’s get back in the game.”  He pulled her up and they came face to face.

She stared into his blue eyes for a moment and froze.  “I…I…” she started when the call of ‘goal’ rang out and the Mísë cheered.

Ruscano grunted loudly in frustration.  “This is what I get for letting you lot on my team!” he yelled as he shook his fists in the air.

The captain of the Mísë strutted by them, the look of victory written on the strong features of his face, a straight nose and a prominent forehead above chiseled cheekbones.  He flexed his powerful muscles and gave the Telepta a toothy grin.  “I want our table spotless tonight.  Not one crumb.  Not one stain.”

Líreno grabbed himself by the crotch.  “I have your stain right here, Tintallo.”  Then he got between his two friends.  “And you two.  Break it up or get a room.  We need to focus.  I don’t want to be scrubbing pots tonight.”  He pointed at Morelen with a smirk.  “You, however, would make a great scrubber.”

Ruscano gathered the Telepta.  “Except for these three…replacements, we’re tired.  We’re behind, but not by much.  The Morna are just a bunch of losers, so we don’t have to worry about them.  We need to buckle down and focus.  The ball is ours for this play, so I’ll handle Tintallo. Hurinon, you’ll be the carrier. Everyone, protect him. Understood?”

Everyone nodded and the huddle broke up.  Hurinon, a thin Noldo with a long face, sharp features and brown hair took the ball and knelt.  On the signal, he began to dash in a zig zag to elude the defense.  Notaldo blocked one Morna and then flipped a Mísë on his back, letting Hurinon exploit a gap.  Ruscano tried to block Tintallo, but the Mísë captain was too fast, and he slammed into Hurinon, knocking the ball into the air.  A Mísë reached up and grabbed the ball, but Morelen leapt and took it from his grasp.  She landed, surprised that she had the ball.  Then, she saw Tintallo rushing at her, a look of satisfaction all over his face.  Then, everything began to move in slow motion.

Morelen sidestepped, letting Tintallo crash into his own teammate.  As they fell over, she dodged a weak attack by a Morna and ran towards the mound.  Three Mísës moved to surround her and drove in as one.  Seeing no way out, she flicked the ball to Notaldo who slammed it into the basket.  In another moment the three knocked her over and her breath left her.  She closed her eyes as they crashed to the ground.

Underneath the pile of bodies, Morelen winced and blinked her eyes.  It felt almost as bad as when that elf nearly crushed the life out of her. “Off please,” she said painfully. Everyone moved slowly until she saw Notaldo’s hand reaching down to her, which she gratefully accepted.  She felt a tingle in his grip.

“You were magnificent,” he said with a giant smile, his lips practically ear to ear.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone move that fast. That was better than Hithlum.”

Ruscano rushed up with a face full of wonder.  “That was…that was incredible.  Watching Tintallo crumple over like that when you dodged him…  You…are…fast.  It’s like you have the blood of Nessa in your veins.”  He had a big, toothy grin and his hands gesticulated wildly with his words.

Notaldo laughed out loud and then nodded.  “All I saw was a blur as Tintallo piled into his teammate.  He’ll never live that down.  I think we make a great team,” he said as he grasped Morelen on the shoulder.

Ruscano patted them both on the back.  “I was wrong about you lot… I mean you riders.  You can play for the Telepta anytime,” he said to Morelen.  “Now, we’re only one behind and have the momentum. Morna has the ball now.  Come, let us-”

A loud horn blew, interrupting the game.  A sentry leaned over the wall of a nearby tower and blew the horn again.  “To arms!  To arms!  There is an attack on Ard Galen!  Angrod and Aegnor are hard pressed and falling back with losses.  A great beast of fire and terror leads the attack!  To arms!”

Morelen’s throat tightened, and her heart skipped a beat.  “What new horror is this?” she said to Notaldo and his eyes flashed fear for a moment.  She had never seen him afraid before as he was always full of sarcasm.

Then he seemed to force a smile to cover his earlier expression.  He had noticed her look of concern at him.  “It’ll be nothing again.  Just like Hithlum.  No force can stand against the might of the Noldor.”

Morelen nodded stiffly. Her first battle was horrific enough. She could still envision the field of mutilated bodies with arrows and spears sticking out of them.  She reached out and grasped Notaldo’s hand briefly. “I trust you.  We’ll be alright.”

Ruscano was already yelling at the top of his lungs.  “You heard the herald!  To arms! To Arms!  Get your lazy asses moving!  To Arms!”  His iron gray eyes bored in on them.  “This means you two!” he yelled in his gravelly voice.  “Ten minutes!  Back in the courtyard in ten minutes!”  He waved his arms at the stable grooms.  “Mounts ready to ride in fifteen!  Move it!”

Morelen released Notaldo’s hand.  She found that she liked the feeling and wanted to do it again.  But for now, they had to ride and ride quickly.

Chapter End Notes

I made up the game, it being like basketball/soccer with three teams.  Guess who the dragon is.  I want to showcase the relationships in the company and move Morelen's character arc along.

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