The Court of Ardor by AliceNWonder000137  

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Tumhalad - Part 1

Turin leads the riders in skirmishes to trap one of Morgoth's armies on the Plains of Tumhalad but scouts find another army hidden in the Woods of Nuath along with Glaurung.  Turin launches the decisive battle of the Kingdom of Nargothrond.

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47)  Tumhalad – Part 1 - Year of the Sun 495 Yavannië (September)

Morelen

It took a few days, but Telepta Company sighted the massive army of orcs marching west towards the Narog, likely searching for Nargothrond.  They had to stop it at all costs before it completed its task.  Morelen could see the dust trails ahead on the plains of Talath Dirnen and then the cruel spears of the orcs.  Messengers rode back to Lord Mormegil to inform him of the presence of the enemy.  As ordered, they shadowed the orcs, a larger force than they had seen in a while.  A stream of messengers came in from Orodreth that the infantry force of Nargothrond was on the march along with supplies.

“This seems too perfect,” Líreno said, pointing to Morgoth’s Army that seemed to just crawl along. They had picked off a number of stragglers and even captured some orcs for information.  “It’s like the prisoners are just telling us what we want to hear; yes, they’re looking for Nargothrond, yes, they think it’s west, yes, they’re disorganized and demoralized.  It just feels too convenient.”

Morelen watched the enemy moving towards the Narog in a ragged horde.  She was a little annoyed with Líreno’s constant second guessing of Lord Mormegil.  She knew that was just his personality, but the enemy army was vulnerable and almost right where they wanted it.  “I’m sure that Túrin has already accounted for that and has the best course laid out for us.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” he quipped.  “I just have a bad feeling.”

“You always have a bad feeling,” she answered, trying to make light of the situation.  She pushed her annoyance aside.  “I know you’re just looking at all of the information. That’s who you are.  But they’re ripe for a determined attack by us.  I just want to get this over with, you know, and get back to our lives.”

“So do I, Morelen, so do I. I just don’t want us to be caught by surprise.  I’ve been fighting since I got to Middle Earth and we have had too many bad surprises. I would love for us to live in peace, just being vigilant but Morgoth wants only destruction.  You know, Notaldo and I knew him…well, when he was Melkor.”

“Wait, what?  You knew him?”

He nodded.  “Most of us did.  He was brilliant, powerful, full of wonderful ideas.  He was released from imprisonment in the Halls of Mandos, repentant…supposedly,” he said with a cynical laugh.  “You see, interaction with the Valar was an almost daily thing. They were our mentors, teachers and guides.  We rode with Oromë.  We watched Vairë weave.  We pledged our loyalty to such as Finwë, the High King, and were part of the drama between Fëanor and Fingolfin.  These names may just be legend to you but they’re as real as you and I.”

She wondered about this. Far into the future would she and people like Fingon and Fingolfin just be legends?  It almost seemed as if the two High Kings were already that.  She imagined some distant time where bards would be amazed at names like Morelen, Notaldo and Líreno.  “All I know of Morgoth is how hideous he was when Fingolfin fought him.  I cannot forget that.  It was as if he were rage personified.  I know that he was not always like that, right?”

“No…but he was always a narcissist, full of himself.  I didn’t like that at all,” he said, making an expression of distaste, one side of his lip curled up.  “He always knew better than Manwë.  Manwë was asleep at the helm, he’d say.  If he were the Lord of the Valar, it would be so much better and nothing bad would ever happen.  Anything that went wrong was Manwë’s fault.  Anything that went well was his doing and he had the answer to all problems. Everything had to be done his way, or he wanted to destroy it.  We see that now.”

“I wonder how the Court of Ardor became enamored of him.  He repulses me.  I am still ashamed that I did not fight to save Fingolfin.”  She would never follow the spirit of rage that she saw slay the High King.

“Morelen…you would have just been killed too or worse.  You have to understand that he was charming.  To many of the Eldar, just to bask in the glow of his power and brilliance was a gift,” he said with a faraway look.  “But you know me, I’m skeptical about everything.  I never fully bought into his allure, but I understand why others did.”

“A skeptic, huh?  I would never believe that,” she said in playful sarcasm.  It made sense though.  As a Vala, Morgoth wielded vast powers and even their form was malleable, being spirits originally, taking shape to interact with the Children of Illuvatar. She wondered about Arien and Tilion, the Maia who guided the sun and moon.  While no one in Middle Earth knew for sure, it was said that they surrendered their form in the vessels, only to return to their “bodies” between journeys. There was even legend that Melkor desired Arien for a wife and was refused.  In his rage, he sought to ravish her but was scorched by her fire and retreated.  It was even said that Tilion loved her and often pursued her in his erratic flight. “I never would have guessed that you’re a skeptic.”

“Hah,” he chortled. “You’re actually kind of humorous and smarter than you look.”

She snickered back. “It’s a gift.  Well, my father spoke of the Court of Ardor and how their leader, Ardana, fell for his manipulations.  He says that she is a true believer in his right to rule the world and destroy the sun and moon. She’s a powerful astrologer, a former student of Varda’s, able to harness the energy of the stars.  My mother has seen Ardana incinerate others with that magic.”

“That is frightening. Let’s hope we never face her in battle.”

“I second that,” she said. “But I fear that the ritual must be stopped and it will be my duty to join my parents in fighting it.”

He pulled his chin back and made a face.  “Face Ardana or allow the sun and moon to be destroyed.  Tough choice.  Well, count me in to fight her…assuming we’re still around.”

“My father thinks that there’s a boy who is the catalyst to the ritual and can be saved.  If so, we can stop the ritual altogether.”

“Really?” Líreno asked. “That seems to be the easier way. I like easier.”

Notaldo approached them. “I need one of you to send a message back to King Orodreth.  You’ll have time to stop at Nargothrond if you want.  The enemy is moving very slowly.  We’ll continue to shadow them until Lord Mormegil rejoins us.”

Morelen pointed at Líreno. “Why don’t you go?  You’ll have a chance to see Telerien.  And grab us some of Throim’s ale while you’re at it.”  It was almost as if the impending battle was nothing more than an inconvenience.  Líreno rode off with a three of the troopers as they decided to make camp.  Riders removed saddle bags for equipment and tents were set up.  Notaldo sent out pickets and set up sentries to ensure that they were not surprised.  As always, he and Morelen stood the first watch so troopers could get food and rest.

“I don’t know if they can see us yet, but I doubt it as we’d be shielded behind their dust cloud,” Notaldo said, gesturing towards the enemy.  “Still, there’s no way we’re going to be surprised while we’re the tip of the spear.”  He took pride in his work and was always diligent and thorough.  Very little was left to chance for him.  His seriousness was both endearing and dismaying for Morelen though.  She missed the playful trooper that he had been before.  It seemed that responsibility did that.

“Did you need a scouting run?” she asked, merely wanting to do something.  “We could grab more prisoners.”

He thought for a moment and then nodded.  “Yes, that’s never a bad thing to gather more information.  I’ll put the sergeants in charge here,” he said and then relayed orders to the men below them.  They set off at a gallop across Talath Dirnen, Lindarion speeding ahead, lighter and faster than Notaldo’s horse.  In spite of the situation, it was almost exhilarating.  It had been a while since they were truly alone.  She inhaled deeply of the fresh air as stars lit the heavens brightly in a moonless night.

“So, this is what Ardana wants,” she said as they slowed to a trot.

“Huh?  You mean the Astrologer of the Court?”

She turned and smiled, raising her visor.  “Yes. Sorry, Líreno and I were just speaking about her.  She’s a true believer in Morgoth’s…vision.”

“Hmmm, he told you that we knew him…Melkor that is.  That was one time where Líreno’s skepticism paid off.  I’ll admit that I was tempted.  He pulled me back.”

Morelen was horrified for a moment.  “Are you serious?  I did not know that.  So, how do you mean?”

“Melkor presented an alluring vision…purely an illusion, of course, but we didn’t know that at the time. He offered simple solutions to complex problems, making sure to lay blame for any troubles on Manwë.  He had a way of knowing how to reach you…of knowing what to say and tapping into your grievances.  The Valar are the real problem, he would say.  They’re going to give away your birthright to the humans. Look at how you’re being held back…oppressed.  He was going to change the world for us.  I almost fell for it.”

“Well, almost is better than did.  I would hate to fight you in the south, you know.”

He snickered and then nodded as he scanned around.  “Definitely. The thing was that Melkor was so…over the top it was unbelievable if you thought it through.  Everything good was him.  Everything bad was Manwë.  He was the chosen one.  He was the only one who could fix it.  He would fly into a rage any time he didn’t get his way.  Once Líreno showed me who he really was, I never saw him the same. He’s just a narcissistic bully…a very powerful one, unfortunately.  Sometimes it helps me to imagine him as a toddler…just for my peace of mind.”

The ride in the clear night was enjoyable and it cleared her head.  Oftentimes, Notaldo was tight with his feelings, but this seemed to open him up.  Like Líreno, they used humor to shine over emotions.  But she had to appreciate this quip.  “Toddler Morgoth!” she said with a laugh.  “I’m going to keep that image.  I wish I could forget the horror of his visage when he fought Fingolfin. That is forever emblazoned in my mind.” She sighed.  “He was unhinged rage personified.  I was telling Líreno that, if I told our stories far into the future, would anyone believe me?  Would we just be legends to shorter lived races like men?” she asked.  “Oh, Notaldo and Morelen,” she said in a mock, singsong voice, “they were just fairy tales.”

He reached out his hand, and she took it as they rode along in perfect synch.  “Well, you’re my fairy tale.  I was just another trooper when I met you and now look at us.  I would never have dreamed…,” he said.  Then, he pointed off in the distance.  “Look, a small group of orcs.  I think we’ve found our prey.”

She trained her eyes on them, maybe a dozen or so.  No match for two of the Noldor.  She drew her bow and took two arrows from her quiver as he did the same.  They could take down four before the enemy even knew that they were there.  He signaled her to ride in the opposite direction, and they would pincer the orcs from two sides. If anything went wrong, they were to fall back to the north, away from the camp and Nargothrond and then regroup. They had been at this a long time.

Morelen raised her gloved hand and focused her energy, creating an illusion that they were just deer. Notaldo put his hand out in a knife edge and Morelen tapped her heels on Lindarion, accelerating into a gallop. As an elf, she could see as well at night as she could in the day.  From what she knew, orcs were close but not nearly as good and her eyesight was exceptional, even for an elf.  At a range beyond that of orc bows she nocked her first arrow with the second ready to go. She released her thumb ring and the shaft darted into the neck of one orc sentry, the tip protruding out the back. Another fell right next to him, a victim of Notaldo’s shooting.  She nocked the spare arrow and let fly at one that had turned to face her husband, and the arrow went clean through the base of his neck, continuing out his throat.

The orcs were scrambling for weapons and turning in all directions, unable to see who was attacking them.  This was more sport than battle, but they could not let their guards down.  She changed directions to spoil their aim and let fly another arrow, this one piercing the eye of an orc and it pitched over backwards.  Orc arrows were flying randomly now, landing impotently in the grass as she turned straight at them, drawing her sword, Melima.  Lindarion surged forward and an orc’s eyes widened as she thrust the tip into his face, knocking another over as she rode by.  Notaldo crossed through them next, lopping a head off.  He stopped, wheeled his horse and brought his sword down on another’s shoulder, cleaving it to the breastbone.

Morelen spun about for another charge, but the two remaining orcs threw down their weapons. “Get on the ground now!” she ordered and they threw themselves down.  Notaldo covered her while she tied them up and they threw one on the back of each of their horses and headed north to throw off any tracking.  Lindarion did not like that and stomped her hoof but settled down as Morelen stroked her nose, feeding her a sugar cube.  The orcs growled and grumbled.

“You will get yours soon, she elf,” the orc snarled at her as he bounded on the back of the horse.  

She sighed and decided to indulge him.  After all, she did not want to talk to Notaldo in the presence of prisoners or they could glean something important, something like their relationship, which could be used against them.  “What will I get, he orc?”  Part of her wanted him to shut up but part of her was curious.  She had a conversation with her mother about orcs and Yavëkamba believed that they could be redeemed and it was a powerful, evil leader that made them this way.  She wasn’t sure that she believed that but knew that their origins were originally as elves and perhaps men.

“When our lord conquers you, you will see.  You will be snaga for the orcs, slaving in the mines of Angband or, better…breeding stock for stronger orcs so we can enslave you all.  You will beg our lord for death,” he growled at her, struggling to get free.

“If that happens, I’m sure I will.  But why do you even want that?  Why are you out here?  Why does Morgoth want to destroy us?  If he left us alone, we’d leave you alone.”

He snorted indignantly. “Leave us alone?  You slaughter us, curse the great name of our lord and attack our home!” he shouted.  “We will destroy your kingdom before you can destroy us.”

She slowed Lindarion and looked back, incredulous.  “What? You…you actually believe that?  We fight you because you invade us and attack our homes.  You just said that you will enslave me and use me as breeding stock.  How are we the ones attacking you?”

“You came with the bright one…the one you called Fëanor.  You attacked us in the beginning!”

“Well, I wasn’t there,” she said, pushing Lindarion faster again as they crossed a stream to hide their path and turned southwest towards the camp, “and we can go back and forth like this, but Morgoth is lying to you.  Everything that comes from him is a lie.  He is corrupt…a deceiver.  All he wants is power and for you to worship him.  He wants to destroy us because we won’t bow to him.”  How was this orc so delusional?  Is this what they believed or was he just an anomaly?  Something in her wanted to get through to him.

“Arrrrr, you lie, elf. It is only our lord who tells the truth! You should bow to his might and power. He might spare you…give you a place like he did those other elves.”

This was like a lightning bolt to her and her eyes widened.  “What other elves?  Tell me!” She was tempted to beat the truth out of him, but she would be no better than the minions of Morgoth herself.  She would use subtler methods.  “Umm, perhaps I might take you up on that,” she continued, her voice softening.  “These elves…they live under the protection of your lord?”

“Yes, she elf…they do and they prosper in the south.  When the world is under our lord’s protection, you would be honored as they are,” he said, seeming to calm as he tried to persuade her.

“That’s intriguing.  I’m curious…where did these elves come from?”

“They came from that land to the west,” he said as if teaching her.  “The foul one, Manwë, defiled the land and these elves sought the protection of our lord in Angband.”

As difficult as it was, she did her best to sound sympathetic towards him.  “Oh, that’s terrible.  Sounds like they did the right thing.  Tell me more about them.”

“Heh…you are more wise than you appear,” he said approvingly.  “Heh, our lord gave them the south so that they can bring the world back to night so that we can live without the pain of the light.”

“You mean the ritual, right?  Where they destroy the sun and moon?”

“Yes, yes!  She elf knows!  You are not as dumb as you look.  Our lord even gave the lady astrologer a child…two children for the ritual. But one died.  The boy will power the ceremony and bring the lights down to save the world,” he said, positively excited.  “We could then live in peace, you and I, under the loving, powerful hand of Morgoth.”

Children?  She remembered speaking to Prince Fingon about the possibility that the Valar could father or bear children.  “You mean Ardana?  She bore…two children?  One died?” This was something that she did not know.  The spawn of Morgoth would surely be evil monsters to be destroyed.  Thankfully, one was already dead.

“Heh, yes…yes, the girl did not live past birth.  The boy will be the vessel for the ritual, yes.”

“This sounds fascinating. I would hear more later.  What is your name?”

“I am Gorka.  I was saved by an elf, years ago and I do not hate you, but you defy our lord and seek his destruction.  We must stop you.  Heh, if you would just listen to him, you would see.  You elves are deranged but you can be saved too.”

“You were saved by an elf?” she asked, a strange feeling in her gut.  “Who was it?  Describe them.”

“One of you elves shot me with an arrow during the battle,” he began.  “Our leaders were also elves, one was the son of Great Lord Morgoth.  Afterwards, an elf with bright eyes healed me.  She wore blue and had dark hair like you. She was…kind, with a soft voice. Our leader was hurt too.  He was shot by a she elf like you too.  The healer put me to sleep before I saw what happened, but I heard that she healed him.”

Morelen tilted her head back as if struck.  She realized that it was her mother, Yavëkamba, who had healed him and she was the one who put the arrow in the elf.  This was during the invasion of Hithlum, hundreds of years ago, her first battle. She envisioned the elf, who asked her why she fought against them, thinking that he was on the side of good and she, the evil one.  She suddenly felt glad that she did not kill this orc and felt the need to try and let him see the truth.  And that elf…he was the son of Morgoth.  She should have killed him then and there.  She would not make the same mistake again.  Still, the elf looked…normal, not the abomination that she thought he’d be as the spawn of Morgoth.  And what if that girl had lived?  What would she be like?  It was better that she had died, whoever that infant was.

They arrived back at the camp where troopers took the orcs to a guard tent and secured them there.  “Don’t hurt them,” she ordered.  “I wish to question them more later.”  She went to the small cantina, grabbed some bread, meat and cheese and went to the tent where they were being held.  The orcs were chained to a post, and she sat down in front of them and held out the platter of food.  Perhaps some empathy might help.  “Here, you may be hungry.  I don’t know what orcs eat but I brought something.”

Gorka took some and passed the platter to his compatriot.  “You are kind, like the healer elf,” he said, still eyeing her suspiciously, but taking a bite and then gobbling the food down.

“As long as you do not try to hurt us or escape, we will not hurt you.  You have my word.  I am one of the leaders here.  My name is Morelen.”

He looked at her closely, narrowing his eyes and sniffing.  “The orcs…we do not have female leaders.  They are only to produce the next generation of soldiers.  That is their purpose.  The ones who went south…the elves, many of their women lead.  I was…I was one of the first…first of the orcs.  I don’t remember now.”

She narrowed her eyes. Was he one of the elves who was captured by Morgoth, enslaved and tortured?  Was he once an elf?  His speech and manner were not as debased as other orcs that she fought.  He looked different too, not as wretched and dirty. If she looked hard enough, she would see some resemblance to his elven past.  “Do you remember anything from that time?  And tell me more about the elves, especially the son of Morgoth.”

He looked up.  “I…I remember stars…water.”

“Lake Cuiviénen,” she said, astonished.  He had to be ancient.

“I don’t know that name, but it sounds familiar,” he said, thinking.  “Then there was just pain, screaming, begging.  That is all.  The elves that you want to know about are called the Court of Ardor.  They left Angband long ago and a balrog went with them.  The son…he has black hair, is tall and strong, a bright elf like you.  He will be the center of the ritual, but I know nothing else.”

She felt sorry for him and pushed her mind into his to allay her suspicions of deception. “Hmmm, I see that you are true. Not what I expected, Gorka.  You are reasonable.  Thank you.  I will bring you more food and then let you rest.  I am…sorry that we had to fight.  I wish it were otherwise.  Please tell me where you look for our kingdom.  Is this your whole force?” she asked, hoping for information useful to their army.

“You are kind, Morelen, but I will not betray my people.”  He then sighed.  “I will tell you that we have a good idea where Nargothrond is.  You may wish to get your people to safety.”

This chilled her and she inhaled sharply but she was surprised that he told her that.  She knew that she had the power to rip the rest of the information from him, physically or mentally, but she stopped herself.  “I…I will do that,” she said and left, anxious to report her findings.

Morelen then went to the small command tent for the company and was surprised to see Túrin and Tintallo there with the officers of Misë and Morna.  “Welcome, Lord Mormegil,” she said, getting their attention.  “I was able glean information from the prisoners that the captain and I captured,” she said and reported what she was told.  “I think we need to prepare to evacuate Nargothrond,” she added forcefully.

Túrin waved her off. “Nonsense.  We will destroy this army as we have with all of the others.  We won’t be responsible for spreading panic. You did well so far, but this now needs a man’s touch,” he said, staring her down.  “Let me question the prisoners.  I will get what we need.”

She felt stung by his words.  “Please Lord Mormegil, I questioned them thoroughly.  That is all that they know.  I am with you in this fight,” she said, trying to redeem herself while protecting Gorka.  She wasn’t sure why.  He was just an orc after all.  “Let me interrogate him more,” she said, using a stronger word to convince him.

He nodded slowly.  “Then I suggest that you come back with more or I will have to do it myself.”

She hurried back to the guard tent and knelt.  “Gorka, Lord Mormegil is here.  I need to bring him something more or he will talk to you himself.  I…I don’t want to see you hurt,” she said, not fully knowing why she cared.

He blew out a breath, struggling over what to say.  “Very well, Morelen, the elf.  I will tell you that another army lies in wait.  We were to lure you out.  Glaurung leads them.”

Her blood ran cold and her mouth hung open for a moment.  “Glaurung? Where is he?  Where is this army?”

He sighed again. “They are hidden in the Woods of Núath. You will be surrounded.  That is all that I have.”

She pursed her lips. This was a huge development.  “I see.  Thank you.  I would not see you harmed while you are here.  I don’t know why I care, but I do.”  He was definitely not like other orcs, thoughtful…intelligent.  But could he be trusted?

He nodded, clearly feeling torn.  She wondered if there were other orcs were like this or was he unique or rare. Still, she could not put her full faith in him.  She went back to the command tent to reveal her information.  “Glaurung awaits in the Woods of Núath with another army,” he said and Notaldo gasped along with many others.

“All the more reason for us to attack now!” Túrin barked.  “This changes nothing.  We strike the army on the field and scatter them before Glaurung can deploy.  We defeat them in detail.”

She was stunned. This seemed to be a dire development that would best be met with caution.  “My lord?”

A grin spread across his face.  “King Orodreth is near with the full might of Nargothrond.  Our opportunity is ripe to destroy two armies and the dragon.  We’re holding nothing back,” he said clasping her shoulder.  “You’re with me, right?”

“Of course I am, my lord. I am with you,” she said in a voice full of confidence that she did not entirely feel.  But she trusted him and he had never failed.  This would be no different.

Scouts were returning from reconnaissance and hitched their mounts outside of the command tent.  They rushed in and bowed to Lord Mormegil and Tintallo, saluting Notaldo.  “Sirs…Morgoth’s Army is on the march again and fording the Narog.”

Túrin made a loud clap. “This is it.  This is the time to attack the first army as they are fording the river.  Tintallo, prepare the riders.  Have messengers sent to the King to coordinate.  We hit them before noon!” he declared with infectious excitement.

Tintallo pounded his chest in a salute, a huge smile on his face.  “My lord,” he said and rushed outside and began barking orders.  There was a flurry of activity outside with the pounding of hooves heading out.

Lord Mormegil put his hand on Notaldo and Morelen.  “This is it, my friends.  I trust your information, Morelen, but it does not matter.  We crush the first army and then catch the second on the march.  All we need is a swift horse, a strong sword and a straight ride to glory.”

As the cavalry assembled, Morelen could see the enemy army had put about a third of their force across the river.  Túrin was right.  This was a golden opportunity…if there wasn’t a second army lurking nearby with a dragon. Notaldo called for scouts to head towards the Woods of Núath.  “Sergeant! Take a group and scout the edge of the woods.  Do not engage.  I want to know if anything is hiding there.  Be careful.  I don’t want any losses on this.  You’ll be needed in the battle.  Go!”  A group of ten tore off into the overcast morning.  One trooper was tasked with guarding the orcs.

The tension was rising as the camp was taken down and packed up and Morelen gritted her teeth. Her sergeants, Sanamo and Ringion, sounded off and did a head count.  “Captain Notaldo, my section is all present and accounted for,” she called out. “Lieutenant Líreno should be returning soon, and his section is all present and accounted for except the ten scouts.  We stand ready to ride.”

Túrin was in his saddle at the head of the Misë, lances at the ready.  “Telepta, take the right flank on the north and screen the advance! Misë and Morna, on my command, form wedge and charge,” he said, pointing south.  “The King’s force nears.  He will join us in the battle.  Have heart, my friends!  The end of Angband nears.”

They moved out at a trot, an easy pace to keep the horses fresh since the fording of the Narog was a slow process for the orcs.  The banners of Orodreth could be seen marching north along the Narog, glittering spears raised and waving like rows of wheat as the soldiers trod forward. They would catch half the enemy force on the near side of the river.  Excitement was building.  There was a real chance of a big win here.

Túrin pointed his sword, Gurthang, at Notaldo and nodded.  “Hit them, Telepta!  My father’s face shines down upon us!” he called as the enemy began to turn, surprise on their faces but brandishing cruel polearms, jagged and notched.

The company drew bows and accelerated to the right.  Bowstrings were drawn and released and clouds of arrows shot into the orcs where dozens fell. Another volley arced into them and more collapsed, shafts sticking out of throats, chests and eyes.  Ragged groups of orcs surged forward to attack, firing weak bows and throwing javelins and spears which all fell far short.  Morna crashed into them, lances forward, skewering swaths of the enemy just as Misë charged into the main body on this side of the Narog.  Gurthang rose and fell, slicing and cutting.  The force on the opposite side tried to cross back but Telepta continued to pour arrows into this group and arrow-filled bodies floated down the river as it turned dark with orc blood.

In the face of the cavalry onslaught, orcs began to flee, throwing themselves into the river, casting weapons away.  “Spare none!” Lord Mormegil ordered.  “Drive them into the water!  Let them drown!”

Telepta wheeled, sheathing bows and drawing swords and plunged into the left flank of the enemy, horses crashing into orcs, steel clashing, screaming, horses rearing and blood flowing. Morelen drove the tip of her sword into one’s eye as Lindarion kicked another into the river.  She blocked a glaive coming at her head and then cut the shaft of the weapon in two, wheeling her horse to knock her attacker over and trample him.  Three orcs had dismounted one of her riders and were ready to finish him off when she slammed into one while slicing the neck of another.  The last orc looked up just in time for the tip of her sword to drive into his mouth.

“Get up!  Get back on your horse and head to the rally point!” she commanded the rider so he could fall back and clear his head.  Orc resistance was faltering and Túrin was driving a portion of them into the river, some drowning and being carried away by the water.  Others tried to turn and fight but the muddy bottom made moving difficult and spears and arrows cut them down.  It was becoming a rout.  Then, Orodreth’s infantry arrived to complete the destruction.  The enemy on the opposite bank decided it wasn’t worth it to save their brethren and retreated onto the Plains of Tumhalad.

Hundreds of orc bodies lay on the banks with hundreds more floating down the river with about a dozen riders slain on the field.  Not a bad trade in Túrin’s book.  Morelen blew out a sigh of relief.  Lord Mormegil was right and all of her fears were unfounded.  She raised her visor and smiled at Notaldo, who was riding up. “This went better than I thought,” she said.  “I was wrong to question Túrin.”

“No, we need to question our leaders.  Not questioning is what Morgoth wants.  He would fly into a rage if someone even insinuated that he wasn’t right or all knowing. That’s not us.  Keep questioning…even me.”  He was serious.

She nodded and then thought that she needed to regroup her section.  “Rally on me!  Sergeants, I need a head count!”  In under a minute of shouting, Sanamo and Ringion, rode back to her.

“Lieutenant, no riders fell.  Two have slight wounds and one horse was killed,” Ringion said.  This was good news.  She looked over to see Caladiel reloading her quivers and breathed a sigh of relief. She was going to keep that woman safe. They made eye contact and the younger woman nodded with a smile.

The orc army retreated from the Narog, deeper onto the Plains of Tumhalad, allowing Orodreth’s force to ford the river in pursuit.  Thousands of elven soldiers, arrayed for battle, held spears high and proud. Silver helmets glittered under the dim sun that shone through clouds.  Crows and vultures circled overhead, awaiting a feast when the army moved on.  They made sure to bury their fallen properly, leaving the orcs for the birds.  Morelen knew that she shouldn’t feel this way, but she felt remorse at leaving them for the carrion feeders.  They were just orcs, the sworn enemy of her people who would slaughter them all for sport.  She had bigger things to worry about.

The army had completed its crossing uncontested by late afternoon and began to set camp.  They were within striking range of the enemy and Telepta had been scouting all day to screen the advance and prevent any ambushes. They fought a smattering of skirmishes against stragglers but this time there were no prisoners in fights to the death; the enemy’s resolve was stiffening.  The cavalry returned to report their findings to Túrin and Orodreth where a sense of excitement was brewing.  Maps on the wall of the command tent showed the enemy with their backs now to the river.  They would push them into the Narog or the Ginglith tomorrow.  There would be no escape for Morgoth’s forces.

“We will then turn and defeat the army in the Woods of Núath the following day,” Túrin declared as Orodreth watched on.  “Glaurung may be with them, but I have Gurthang,” he added, drawing his black sword and holding it up to cheers.  “Have heart, everyone!  Once we defeat this host there will be no stopping us.  We will call upon Turgon to join with Nargothrond and drive the enemy back to the gates of Angband!”

If this could happen it would change the whole nature of the war back in their favor.  It had been mostly disaster and grief for decades now. Morelen wanted nothing more than to see Morgoth suffer for all of the suffering that he had caused.  She wondered how those who followed the Vala could be so deceived and delusional.  Any objective viewer could see how evil he was.  What did he promise the Court?  How did they fall into such a…such a cult.  Cult?  That was the only way she could describe it.  The whole reason behind the Court bothered her.  It was nothing but destruction and chaos and it made no sense to her.  Could they even be reasoned with?  Her father seemed to think so and her mother was proof of that.

Túrin laid out the plan of attack for tomorrow, pointing to the map on the wall of the tent.  Telepta would screen the advance as always, picking off enemy leaders and breaking up formations with arrows for the general assault. “The infantry will attack under the cover of the archers with cavalry protecting the flanks.  Once the enemy begins to break, the riders will lead the reserve cavalry in to finish them and drive them into the river.”

Notaldo raised his hand. “My lord, what about the army in Núath? Do you want me to keep our watch on them?”

Lord Mormegil shook his head.  “No, my captain.  Recall all of your scouts to the north.  We need everyone on this attack.  We will defeat them quickly and then swiftly turn north to defeat that army.  Fear not.  I will handle Glaurung.”

Notaldo paused for a moment before tapping Morelen.  “Recall the scouts,” he told her loudly with a short shake of his head.  “I’ll take responsibility,” he then whispered into her ear, and she knew what he meant.

She left the tent and went to her sergeants.  “Leave the scouts in place near Núath.  Just pretend to recall them,” she said, nodding.  She felt terrible for defying Lord Mormegil but she trusted her husband.

“There are ten scouts still deployed, Morelen,” Sanamo told her.

“Good.  Leave them there for now on my orders.”  She looked over to the company tents.  “I see the stables are set up well.  How are the riders?  Are they ready?”  After years of feeling like she was not fit to lead she was growing into the role.  She understood what it took to train and field cavalry now with so much work going into the care and feeding of the horses. Your life depended on your mount and they all had to be in top form for the battle.

“We are ready for tomorrow,” Ringion added confidently.  “Lord Mormegil has lead us to victory after victory.  We are sure that this will be no different.”

She nodded, her confidence not entirely complete.  “Just remember that Glaurung is out there,” she said.  “Be prepared for anything.”

“We will be, Morelen,” Sanamo said.  “You can count on it.”

While she felt immense pride in her people, she forced a smile, a growing sense of nerves in her gut. “You get some rest now.  The captain and I will take the first watch,” she told them and they gave her a sharp salute before departing.  Discipline and morale had always been high among the riders since before she joined.  Fingon had forged an elite force to be feared.

She wondered how their scouts were faring.  Was Glaurung actually in the woods?  The very thought gave her chills, and she remembered the maw of the dragon open with fangs the size of swords and Ruscano’s bloody arms flying by her face.  Could she face him again and not flee like she did before? She knew that she was a coward deep down who only fought when her friends were behind her.  Well, she had a lot of friends behind her now.  She squeezed her stomach to find courage. Was this all just a show for her father? She always wanted to make him proud. She knew that her fears were irrelevant; she had to fight.  Morgoth would not stop until the elves were dead or enslaved for his pleasure.

Notaldo walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, his armor clinking against hers. “You were thinking about the dragon. I could tell,” he said, burying his face into her hair.

“Hrmph.  No, I wasn’t,” she lied and then groaned. “Well, yes I was.  I don’t know if I can face him again.  He was terrifying.”

“He is that,” Notaldo said, understanding.  “I just pray to the Valar that Lord Mormegil is right, and we defeat this force quickly. I want to advocate that we fall back after and take the win.”

“What about the bridge over the Narog?  It’s big enough for Glaurung to cross,” she said with a hint of panic.  She had a vision of the dragon on the great bridge, blasting down the gates.

“We just have to trust that this will all work,” he answered.  “You think too much, you know that, don’t you?”

She turned her head to look at him.  “Oh, look who’s talking, Captain Notaldo, who is up every night with duty schedules and scouting routes.”

He reached down and raised the armored plate over her groin and loosened the ties that held the flap on her pants to relieve herself, letting it fall open.  “I’ll give you something else to think about for a little,” he said, moving his fingers around.

Morelen’s breath caught in her throat and she winced in pleasure.  “Oh, captain, we need to…oh we need to…nevermind,” she said as she pushed the back of her head into his neck.  “You will…will need me to return…uhh…the favor when our…our watch ends,” she continued, her breathing quickening as he played.  She tried to reach down but he grasped her arms and held them behind her.  She felt helpless but it was so exciting and she gasped as he nibbled on her neck.  This was something so spontaneous and unlike the regimented captain and she wished that the world would just fade away and that Morgoth would just have been a bad dream.

He began nibbling on her ear and his pace quickened and it was as if arcs of electricity shot up through her body and she bucked against his hand and her legs wobbled, nearly unable to keep standing.  He reached down and caught her by the waist.  “I think you liked that,” he whispered in her ear and she nodded, unable to speak.  He then retied the flap on her pants, making sure to linger.

She turned and kissed him. “You are in for it later, captain,” she said with a wink, her breathing still shallow and rapid, her skin tingling under her armor.  “I’m ready to get out of this metal skin though.”

He pointed back out onto the plains.  “Hey, you’re supposed to pay attention,” he joked.  “The enemy is out there, not down there,” he said, pointing to her midsection. “I think you were distracted,” he added as she slapped his shoulder.  They looked up to the stars and laughed.  The watch was quiet and afterwards they were able to sneak off to the river to bathe and clean their gear.  And she did pay him back.

Morning came all too quickly as horns sounded the muster.  They roused, downing cups of strong tea with a platter of fruit for breakfast. They quickly donned their clothes and armor and headed out to see riders scrambling out of tents as the sergeants pushed men into formation.  Líreno had not yet returned, which was something concerning.  Plus, their ten scouts were still near the woods to the north. Notaldo mounted up, followed by the company.  The lancers held their weapons high and proud as did the infantry.  The enemy had not moved last night, something that Morelen found strange.

“Why are they just sitting there?” she asked Notaldo.  “After the thrashing that we gave them, you would think that they would move north towards their other force.”

He blew out a sigh. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. It makes no sense to me.  And you noticed that we’re still missing people.” He composed himself and then grinned at her.  “And you did get me back last night…several times.”

She grinned back and was about to say something when the horns sounded.  Túrin rose up in his saddle, holding Gurthang up above his head. “My friends!  Today, we conquer on the Plains of Tumhalad!  Go forth to victory!”  The horns sounded again and the army began to move towards the enemy. Thrill, excitement and even dread filled the ranks as a drum beat out a march.

As they closed the distance to the enemy, hoofbeats sounded to the north and Líreno led the ten scouts at them at a full gallop.  His face was full of urgency.  “The northern army is on the march, led by Glaurung.  It’s massive and closing quickly!  We need to fall back!”