For the previous chapter "An Oath lightly Taken",
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If I have one,
I require two.
If I have two,
I want three.
And if I have three,
I strife for four.
Where will it end?
So be content
with one.
If you loose it,
take a new one.
No matter from where.
- Viraïgon,
Dark Elvish Master of Picture and Word
North of Middle-Earth, Unmapped regions of Forodwaith, Late Third Age
Thangrineth galloped on the stolen horse along the overgrown path. Vines and bushes struck against them, but she drove the sweating animal mercilessly on. Since some time it smelled of turf fires without that she would have met any houses. Imagination?
She believed to have noticed the first numb spots on her fingers. The toxic legacy of Munugash's menace that soon would become even stronger.
On her way, the Dark Elf had listened to nomads by the fire and inquired about the exact way that she had to take to reach the mysterious being. That at least she concluded from the heard: The barbarians called the land to the north-west of the Ered Mithrim the Land of Endless Death and avoided it with their herds. The life, that the creator had set into the world would not be able to be sustained there and had yielded for something worse.
To Thangrineth it sounded as if this being was more than the Conclave would have been able to estimate and so she led the steps of the horse to exactly that region.
The signs on the road proved that she was right. She had been riding through forsaken settlements, had seen ruined buildings on the plains and had passed a fallen statue that was supposedly dedicated to an entity of light. Barbarians and divine powers had left this strip of land. And the barbarians had punished their gods as it seemed by destroying the revered places and throwing over their memorials.
Soon I will find this being, she thought to herself. Then comes my victory over Cadhalor and all Stars. We Comets will lead our kind into a future full of splendor. She rather did not dare to think about her own death. Thangrineth was convinced that she would accomplish more by ignoring the poison, instead of constantly waiting for the next sign. Alike unshaken was her conviction to return to her lands of home. She wanted her triumph, she wanted the blessing through the Conclave and she wanted to live the march of their host and through numerous victories climb up to be the leader of the Comets. Her name had to be mentioned in the legends of her people. My will protects me against the end, she said to herself. That is why I will live and Cadhalor will die.
The horse broke through a wall of thick leaves and Thangrineth saw two steps before her - an abysm!
In the same moment it became clear to her: Her far too quick-footed horse would not be able to be halted. Hence she rolled down over the back of the steed, loosened the saddle-bags and came upon the ground with her feet; the spear she used to secure her balance.
The horse yet tried to strike an evasion of salvation, but that was impossible to manage. Neighing it slipped over the edge and disappeared out of Thangrineth's sight.
The Dark Elf stepped forward, to the cliff and held her breath by the overpowering view.
Infront of her rose chains of mountains, not more than eight-hundred to thousand steps high, but softly ascending, without harsh walls. They were strung together in and behind one another, shimmered green and dark brown in the haze.
Smoke rose up at many spots, entire regions glowed dark red like pipe-weed and spewed out dark steam. The elevations, the flat parts in between, all the land was made of turf. And it had been lit ablaze!
The constant smoldering had burned deep holes into the earth, craters yawned like immense maws and send out more white shimmering smoke from the depths.
Thangrineth found the sight of disintegration tremendous. Unbelievable!
She saw a forest that was made now only of charred remains, right next to it stood the skeleton of a city whose houses were burned and fallen. They had been robbed of the very ground they stood on by the fire, the fundaments had failed.
The last time I saw such a picture were the lands around the Thangorodrim. Ages ago. Excitement caught the light-shunning Elf. Quickly she began her descend, passed the crushed corpse of the horse. By midday she hurried towards the city.
Thangrineth walked over ankle-deep ash. The ground beneath her soles radiated enormous heat. She could hardly see the sky through the smoke, the sun was nothing more than a dirty, glowing ball. The burned trees that she walked by were cracking and creaking. It was the only sound that she perceived.
Finally she reached the settlement.
Thangrineth saw numerous holes in the streets, they had opened between the houses; elsewhere the earth had lowered itself and brought buildings to kneel down and succumb to the sheer force. The Dark Elf was caught entirely in the spell of destruction in which she found a sense of morbid beauty. An entire city had turned into a art-piece of decay. I want to create something like that in Middle-Earth as well. She strode about, discovered ever again new forms and structures in the ruins.
She also met the remains of corpses, nothing more than charred bones.
Where do I find this ancient being? From her vantage point she had gotten the impression that those burning hills were stretching for miles into every direction of the sky. It would also not be easy to spot anything or anyone amidst the heavy steam. She was not even sure for what she was supposed to look.
The wind blew now from the south and surrounded Thangrineth with biting smoke. Coughing she bound a cloth before mouth and nose.
She decided to climb up one of the softly ascending hills and to make her presence known with the help of a horn. If the being came, the better. If the tones would lure barbarians to her position, also good. She could ask them, then.
Her march led her over dried, hot earth and even as she attempted to take the first height, she still felt the heat beneath her. Everything seemed to be penetrated by fire.
Small flames danced over narrow chasms, gases were set aflame without warning and meant a new threat to Thangrineth who was thoroughly minding her step.
The ground crunched at times like thin ice and even sank beneath her low weight. She imagined that beneath the fragile crust waited a deep abyss in whose depth was burning a red inferno.
What bizarre world, she said to herself and saw the flat peak appear before her in the clouds of steam.
Gently she climbed to the top, took forth her horn and set it unto her lips; strongly she blew into it and repeated the tones several times. They flew over the mountains away, caused echoes and created a somber canon that was fitting to the landscape. If one could just place tones into paintings, she thought and let her gaze wander.
It had become darker. Thick drops struck her, splashed on the horn and then a rainfall began that soaked Thangrineth down to the skin.
The earth around her hissed in protest. Fire and water created immediately steam that rose up and devoured the hills.
The Dark Elf had difficulties to breathe, pearls of water gathered on her face, her armor, the hair and the cloth before the mouth and nose was in a few heartbeats drenched. Her lung seemed to cook within her through the ardent hot air. Stars danced before her eyes.
Who are you?, she heard from somewhere.
Thangrineth startled. That had been no illusion or trick of her own mind. The voice had not met her ear and yet she had perceived it. »And who are you?«
I asked first.
»Show yourself, so that I can see who you are, instead of hiding from my eyes!«, she called challenging.
You will not see me as long as the thick steam surrounds us. My body is not like yours. My flesh is made of night-sky and star-light. But who are you now, and why are you making such noise?
The being! It had found her! »I greet you«, she coughed more than she spoke. »My name is Thangrineth Egledhron from the feared, powerful and undefeated kind of the Dark Elves from the East.« She stood upright and proud, the head raised and the voice filled with velvet tones to impress and to delight. »My masters, the Conclave and ever living guides of our kin, sent me. I sought for you and have the honor to be allowed to propose an alliance to you.« By all exertions and all exhaustion she would have loved to celebrate: The success of the mission was so close! My sole success. She thanked the creator for his assistance.
The Dark Elves? What is that supposed to be?
The question surprised and insulted her. »A race.«
Like Man?
»Never! We are better than any other race. Even better than our brethren from Valinor«, Thangrineth answered boastfully.
And why do you need an ally then?, spoke the voice of the being amused. If you are better than all the others?
»My masters offer you the reign over your very own realm beyond the mountains«, she simply continued. It was not going as she had imagined. That this being had not even heard of her kin made her almost angry. Or is it a sort of humor. Is he teasing me intentionally to see if I am worthy? »There you can rule over Man as you desire. The Conclave will support you with a host like the North has not seen it before.«
The voice around Thangrineth laughed. How do they imagine that I would want to rule?
She did not understand that question at all. »Is it not everyone's wish to rule over something? You, yourself Being, have claimed this land as your own and defend it and the men that lived here you have killed or driven off.«
It is nothing more than fate that I am here. I could have just as well sought for a place to live in the east or in the south. That what has happened, I did not want to cause. It happens often when I remain for long. I cannot prevent it. It is a curse that I was afflicted with.
It did not sound to Thangrineth as if the being would be very much inclined to go to Middle-Earth. That irritated her. That irritated immensely even. And she no longer believed that this all was a test. What is the use of a bored, slow ally?
»What do you wish for instead if you would lend us your aid?«, she replied without a clue to a better answer.
The rain ceased and a strong wind blew the steam away, so that she could see the being before her. Tall like a man, but more alike to an Elf, it stood there. It seemed indeed to be made of star-light and night-sky, as Thangrineth could almost see through it, or so she believed. The plain clothes of grey complemented the mood of the being. Mildly unspectacular for a spirit that had witnessed the creation of the world.
Can you sing, Dark Elf?
»Of course. What shall ...?«
The play with the horn was to my liking, but a voice can move me deeply. If you bring me complacence, Dark Elf, then it could be that I would think about visiting your Conclave and negotiate with them.
Thangrineth showed her astonishment blatantly. She had already haggled with gold, weapons and provisions, had traded one piece of art for another, but that a song should bring such an important decision for her kin? How good that she was a passable singer. »Then hearken to me. You will hear the tune of Black Tears.«
Thangrineth raised her voice and sung. She sung like she had never sung before in her millennia long life.
Tears, shed by regret,
heavy falling by,
black and full of woe.
Blackness from the sky,
shed for us,
in Ages long ago.
They gave us valor,
granted us infinity,
set our hopes new aglow.
Fallen divinity,
given to us,
in Ages long ago.
Blessed and risen,
stand we above all,
Following the Night below.
Heeding the somber call,
when we stood above all,
like in Ages long ago.
We are now eternal,
no more will tears be shed,
black and full of woe.
Our hearts in pride instead,
the same pride,
in Ages long ago.
The world belongs to us,
and tears shall others cry,
Laughter we will not forego.
An echo of the last sigh,
Of those we slew,
in Ages long ago.
The last tone came over her lips and still sounded between the mountain chains. Thangrineth found her performance quite successful and held no second thoughts at all about whether or not she had persuaded the spirit. She sank before the being on her right knee. »Now let me describe how you find the land of my ...«
I felt no complacence, Dark Elf.
»What?« Thangrineth was certain that she looked dumbfounded at the spirit.
You touched me and I lost myself a little in your voice but the tune was not to my liking. Too many dark tones. Too sad. The spirit let the head hang and spread the shimmering arms. Look around. Do I need more desolation than this? Something buoyant, would have been more appropriate.
Thangrineth could not believe how this thing, however ancient it may be, could dare to fell such a verdict over singing skills. Before she could reply and propose another song, the shape of the being became light as a feather and was caught by the wind, vanished between the smoke of the turf fires. The rain had not been sufficient to extinguish them.
Go back, Dark Elf, she heard the voice saying as farewell. It was a pleasure to meet someone brave. However, I advise you to leave my refuge before you must experience the curse that hangs on me. The mortal men had to pay a bitter price, ere they learned.
»Wait!«, she called and attempted to pursue the being. But it became one with the smoke and dispersed. »Spirit, you mustn't do that!«, she called in desperation. »Spirit? SPIRIT?«
She listened, heard the hissing of the earth and hoped for the voice to return.
But the world around her remained still.
»By the seven black curses!«, she screamed and rammed the spear into the ground. »What do I do now?« My dreams fail at my singing skills. At the choice of the song. Thangrineth uttered a loud that expressed all her helplessness. I have to think of something! I have to!
Boot steps behind her let her turn around.
Seven figures came over the peak, heavily armed, with shields and swords, a gathering of different races, from barbarians over an Orc to a Goblin. The black-skinned southron among them was a welcomed variety.
Thangrineth pulled the spear out of the ground, threw down her saddle-bags and held herself ready. That is no coincidence. Those different creatures would have never banded together, not even here, far in the north, unless they served someone who was able to force them to do so. »What do you want?«
The seven spread out and the barbarian, whose bearded face could hardly be made out behind the closed visor of his helmet stepped forward. »Besides from your death, Dark Elf, give us the vial that you stole from the fortress of my lord, the mighty Galran Unuk.«
»It is not in my possession. My companion had it«, she lied. She was angered that she did not discover that she had been followed the entire way. Well, she had not really wasted a thought of pursuers and trusted that she would leave no tracks. She did not, but her horse. A negligence for which she could pay now. As the seven had left the same hindrances behind them as she had done, they had to be quite good.
»The second troop that followed him will come to know about that«, the barbarian replied.
You think, you will best me? Thangrineth laid playing thoughtfully a finger against her lower lip. »Wait! I think the Obbôna took it. She knew what it was.«
The barbarian shook his head. »I do not think so.« He drew his sword. »I think it is more likely that you know exactly what you took. Otherwise you would not be here and we would not have found you, wouldn't we?«
Thangrineth's curiosity grew. Certainly she had looked at the vial sometimes when she rested and felt that something was slumbered within, but never concluded what it was good for. Judging the words of the barbarian, it would have something to do with the spirit. »Possible«, she answered vaguely and let the spear rotate.
»Then we begin with your death and look for the vial ourselves.« The barbarians gave the signal and the other six began their approach.
To Thangrineth's dismay did the Goblin take forth a blow-pipe and put a small arrow inside, while the others spread further and sought to surround her.
The Dark Elf did something that she had done only once during her entire life as a warrior and only because she had been ordered to do so: She turned abruptly around and stormed down the hill; doing so she performed one evasive maneuver after the other so that the projectile of the Goblin would not hit her. And be dumb, follow the order of your lord and run after me!
Her speed gave her an edge. Thangrineth would look for suitable spots of attack and not oppose them in open combat. For a good reason: The feeling of numbness traveled already up her arms and made her insecure, brought her precision into danger. Hence she would prepare ambushes for them.
She forced the hand of the henchmen of the Galran Unuk, they wanted the vial and her life and had to follow her.
The Goblin dies first. She took the Agarthul from the sleeve of her mantle and closed the silvery thread within her gloved fist, ran straight through the thickest clouds of steam, threw herself into one of the smoldering holes and held her breath.
Thangrineth sank in the ash, warmth was about her like water and increased. She could withstand the heat for a short time. She trusted on her armor and her will to ignore the pain for a certain time.
Soon after she perceived the steps of her pursuers. She was able to allocate the different enemies to their individual steps. As she heard the quietest steps stopping next to her, she rose up a little, opened the fingers and blew the Agarthul from her glove. Fly and look for something to eat.
The breath was sufficient to send the hungry thread on its journey.
First it seemed as if the creature would lower itself on the armored shoulder of the Orc that was accompanying the Goblin, but the curious being of the small creature became its doom. The Goblin grasped after the silver thread. A light breeze blew one end unto the face.
Instantly the Agarthul was stuck and the Goblin screamed like an old woman. His companions hurried towards him and wanted to help the unlucky thing. Only the barbarian called that the Goblin was done for and urged the others to vigilance.
How easy you are to trick. The confusion that had arisen was of use for Thangrineth. Still from her hide-out, she penetrated the thigh of the southron with her spear and pressed the elevation at the shaft.
The artificial air pressure blew up skin and flesh, caused it to tear. Shreds and blood flew about, the Dark Elf saw the bone.
The man fell with a cry of agony and tried in desperation to still the bleeding, but to no avail. The death came too fast and robbed him of his life. It had taken less than sixty heart-beats before no more blood was gushing from the wound. There was nothing to be seen from the other pursuers. They hid somewhere in the smoke.
Five. Thangrineth jumped up and ran on, deeper into the clouds and leaving a trail of glowing ash and sparks. Five are doable. Even in her weakened state.
Suddenly she received a strike against her back that caused her to fall. She heard the laughter of an Orc and a loud call.
»The Elves used to be faster«, the enemy ridiculed her with a throatily, thundering voice.
Thangrineth heard the buzzing and rolled to the side; the sword missed her. She did not feel her arms anymore, but at least they still moved and did as she commanded them. »Fast enough to kill you«, she said overbearing. Her movements were jolting, without any elegance. The Orc had no trouble to parry her spear-thrusts.
On the right appeared the barbarian and struck with his sword after her head.
Thangrineth caught the foe's blade with the shaft of her spear and led it on, against the Orc. That one blocked the strike with the shield.
Does nothing work anymore? Thangrineth's fine ears perceived that the ground was cracking under her soles. Without hesitation, she rammed the spear-tip into the ground and triggered the dwarven mechanism again. At the same time, she jumped back.
The high pressured air brought the crust to tear open and a hole opened in which the barbarian and Orc disappeared. Clouds of sparks rose up, a red flame reached for the sky. Another barbarian who had wanted to come to the aid of his companions fell into the depths, as well. The earth had opened itself too quickly. The heavy armor tore him down.
It works after all. Thangrineth landed away from the dangerous hole and ran on. Two remain ...
From the nothingness the edge of a shield appeared and hit her against the chin.
Thangrineth was lifted into the air, held for a moment her flight, ere she came down again. The spear slipped from her fingers and disappeared into the steam, she could not breathe anymore and thought to have broken her lower jaw. Luckily, the bone was still intact.
Spewing blood, she rolled away and drew her long-knife.
There she got a kick into the side that drove the air out of her lungs and heard a triumphing call. The ugly distorted face of an Half-Orc looked down on her; the tower-shield he held infront of himself and hit it against her face.
Now Thangrineth screamed, the pain was too great. Dark blood sprung from torn open cheek and lips. And it came even worse: Her arms and legs surrendered, she could no longer defend herself against the crawling effects of the poison. It did its effect at an unthinkable bad moment. Winds of the East, grant me your will, or I am lost. Her picture of a new triumph over her enemies got visible cracks.
»Here! To me!«, the Half-Orc called and rolled the Dark Elf with his iron-plated boot unto the back. »Here, I am! I have her!«
»There is only one more of you left«, Thangrineth croaked and tried an evil laughter. It pained her incredibly and so she did not make another attempt. With her arms and legs robbed of their power, she did not know how to defend herself against the impending defeat. So close. All because of a hesitating spirit!
»That is all the same to me«, the Half-Orc answered from above. »The important thing is that I have got you, Elf.« He raised his large foot and hammered the heel into her stomach. »Let me see what you ate«, he said and laughed mean.
Thangrineth's armor caught a good deal of the murdering strong kick. But the pressure increased and she thought her ribs would break. She thought to suffocate and groaned under agony.
Then she heard the quiet cracking of glass.
Seething hot were the shivers she experienced: The Half-Orc had destroyed the vial.
