Somewhere in the North High Pass, Third Age 2462
Two years after the end of the Watchful Peace
Day 6, Late Watches
The fire smoldered and simmered to mere glowing ashes as the moment drew on. Hallothel sat on a near-frozen log, watching as the embers pulsed, blackening the kindling and melting the snow underneath where the fire had been burning on for the past hour. With the skies now cleared, she could see the beauty of the evening sky illuminated in it's full glory. The Star of Eärendil, brightest at this hour, shone on vigilantly, and she could see that the Cerch i-Mbelain1, Sickle of the Valar, was still present as ever. Hallothel reached into the neck of her doublet and drew out a small, green gemstone embedded into the curved tendrils of a silver filligree. She mused on how the beryl had acted similarly to Eärendil's Star a few days ago, guiding the trio of scouts out of an unpleasant fog and into the fresh, clear air that surrounded the peaks of the Hithaeglir2.
She glanced at the tents that had been set up by the fire, made of soft wool and woven to withstand the wrath of the mountains. Her older twin, Díllothel, and Himmaethel had gone inside to rest, and she was put to watch-duty as the bearer of the stone. It was now six hours into her vigil - Ithil was waxing, a part of it's face obscured by the shadow that Arda cast on it's silvery surface. Himmaethel would be awake soon to take over her watch.
As she toyed with the stone in her hand, her thoughts idly began to drift back towards the pleasant autumn air of Imladris, and the smile of her beloved Cendir. She briefly took off her glove to stare at the silver betrothal ring looped around her middle finger, and her heart ached with a dull pain as she peered up the mountain face that the trio had opted to camp beside. With the troubled times the days seemed headed to, and the numerous deployments being made to track down growing darkness, she was worried that they would eventually have to delay or even cancel the ceremony altogether. Her finger brushed over the delicately engraved silver.
"Are you worried for the wedding, sister?" A voice came from behind her.
Hallothel looked up. Díllothel had emerged from her tent with a soft, white linen cloak draped around her shoulders. She sat down next to Hallothel, sweeping her cloak under her rear to use as a make-shift cushion.
"I do not deny that my thoughts have gone to Cendir as of late." She admitted, tucking the beryl gemstone underneath her doublet again, "With the troubling reports coming from the east, I wonder whether it would be a good idea to postpone the wedding to a later date."
"All the more reason to keep the original time of day, I would say." Díllothel replied, putting a hand on her sister's shoulder, "You should not let ill tidings prevent you from enjoying that which you have now, sister. It has nearly been two years now since you announced the engagement."
"You speak as if you have been aged by hardship." Hallothel replied, a small, mirthless smile on her face, "Remember that we were only born mere moments apart."
"My, Hallothel, are you sure 'tis not your tongue that will bring hardship?" Díllothel playfully shot back. She patted her younger twin's wrist, "Remember that we still have an unfinished canvas at home that will need to be completed."
Hallothel pouted, unable to come up with a witty reply. It had always irritated her that Díllothel could so easily keep up with her in a verbal spar.
"Is Himmaethel still resting, sister?" She asked, glancing back to the tent from which Díllothel had emerged.
Díllothel nodded, "Still, but she gave a strange expression when I exited the tent. Almost as if she was having a bad time of it."
"Something that she has been having with greater frequency." Hallothel observed. It was true that, ever since their ascension into the mountains, Himmaethel was more restless in her sleep than the other two, but even then, she was willing to wager that all three of them were rather tense since they passed Whitcleft: Hallothel's own dreams had become void of anything but an oppressive blackness that she found herself wandering through blindly whenever she laid down to rest, "I worry that it may be an ill omen for things to come."
"Himmaethel should wake soon, it is nearly time for her watch." Díllothel said, frowning slightly as she seemed to consider Hallothel's statement, "Get some rest, siste--"
The loud, deep bwong of a horn echoed in the distance.
The sisters sprang to their feet in an instant. Hallothel lifted the bow that had been resting against a nearby tree-trunk and scrambled for the quiver beside it, nooking an arrow and pointing the bow towards the cover of trees that shielded their campsite from view. Díllothel had already hefted her two-handed blade from within her tent, pulling out a bewildered and alarmed Himmaethel with her.
"Ai!" Himmaethel hissed, her voice barely more than a whisper, "The horn! The enemy is mobilizing!"
"Quiet, Himmaethel." Hallothel ordered. Her keen, blue eyes beheld the presence of an ominous cloud of black moving across the icy slopes, far beyond the border of the fir forest that kept them protected from malicious eyes, "I see movement within the hills. A black cloud, hastening in the direction of Goblin-town."
"A hunting party?" Díllothel speculated.
Hallothel merely shrugged her shoulders, the string of her bow still drawn back, "Perhaps so. They are moving quite quickly..."
Her twin was at her side soon enough, putting a hand on her shoulder and peering off into the distance herself. Her eyes widened, "Amarth faeg3! They are headed this way!"
Hallothel took a moment to inspect the black cloud closer - a pit in her stomach formed when she realized that it was indeed moving towards the forest they were camping in, "What?! How? I made sure this location was secure!"
The string quivered. How, just how was it that they could have been discovered like this? She had made sure that the entire forest was devoid of the Enemy's servants before declaring it safe to camp! Fury rose in her and her heart pulsed quicker -- had she missed something, anything, as they came up? She recalled that the air had briefly become chill as they entered the Northern High Passes, but she and Díllothel supposed that it was simply foul wind that came from Goblin-town, as they, at one point, passed dangerously close to the entrance -- had they been wrong?
She was swiftly brought back to reality by her twin's arm-nudging.
"We must have been spotted as we came up!" Díllothel hissed, "Sister, ready your string and prepare to move swiftly, your arrows must fell as many of these accursed yrch4 from the shadows as they can!"
1 Cerch i-Mbelain - Sindarin name for Valacirca, the Sickle of the Valar. This is the same constellation that Frodo saw from his room in the Prancing Pony during the Fellowship of the Ring.
2 Hithaeglir - Sindarin name for the Misty Mountains
3 Amarth faeg - lit. "Evil fate!"- Sindarin cursing phrase.
4 Yrch - pl. form of Orch. Simply means "Orc" in Sindarin.
https://realelvish.net/ is the source for most of the Sindarin seen here. Also the source for an essay on Elven Weddings
Critique and feedback welcome.
