Treasure hunters delving into the necropolis of Tyrn Gorthad were held to be disreputable and base for pilfering ancient tombs of grave goods. But, Laicamiril reflected as she picked her way over a flying bridge over an unplumbable chasm, how was this any different than anyone who trespassed in Hadhodrond? The place was a colossal tomb. Like Tyrn Gorthad or the ruins of Eregion or any number of places where the dead and heaps of hoarded riches had been cached together by grim chance or solemn purpose, Moria was indeed as non-dwarves disrespectfully name it a 'mine'. In the the same way any vein of ore was. Here could be found vast riches for any who had a mind to risk life, limb or sanity to take them.
Laicamiril had no pangs of guilt over the sack of gold she had secured to her back.
The dwarves were never going to get this place back though they had established a handful of little camps here and there. Even if the unknown horror that had laid waste to Durin VI's kingdom and put his people to flight were destroyed, the sheer number of orcs who had moved in rivalled the hives of Gundabad and at times it seemed, Mordor itself. So the coins and ingots belonged to those bold enough to take them. And with the trove of gems she had already liberated from the cache hid a thousand years before by a cousin of Nain, whose family had loaned her a map in exchange for returning some precious heirlooms which she dutifully did. The rest was to be her fee for the job. With the money, she could raise an army from the disparate bandit gangs and woodland tribes of Anduin Vale and liberate Dorwinion from the easterlings. She and her husband Arthandron would of course then rule over it. On behalf of the White Council, naturally.
The plan satisfied not only her own ambition but also fit the purposes of the White Council and the Kingdom of Gondor, which would be much relieved to have the Easterlings ejected from the land. It would certainly prove a thorny distraction to Sauron. She was certain she could weld the hardy people into a proper army in a reasonable time. Regular victuals, good pay and the promise of future riches and plunder would suffice to hold the loyalty of mortal men. Victories would bind them to her. She had lived the pattern before in the wars against Angmar and Umbar.
As she padded in silence over a long narrow causeway bridging a chasm whose dimensions were difficult to even guess, though her feet were guided by a small lantern of the kind used by wardens of Lorien. She had travelled widely in Hadhodrond in the prior age in its glory and knew the main paths well enough but it was difficult to recall with much certainty wither led the multitudinous side passages. An echo sounded. Too close! A hunting horn groaned. Somewhere, not far, a fight was happening.
Far enough, hoped she. She wore loose hemp tunic over a light mail corselet and loose leggings with supple leather low boots, so her only thought was to make the journey quickly as may be and without any fighting. She had given slip to mobs of bickering goblins and troops of orcs. She knew where the clean water was to be found. And the habits of the vile oversized centipedes which infested many of the tunnels were well enough known to her that she had only been forced to slay a couple of them. Quietly. Viper, her sword rent their rigid exoskeletons like a staff through dried ear-corn husks In autumn.
The treasure cache had been close to the grand hall of the kings. Naturally after the fall of Moria and after Durin's Bane seemingly settled in for a nap, the orcs had looted Moria as thoroughly as they could do. Centuries later they still prowled in bands, looking for rumored treasures or raiding rival groups of goblins. Any dwarf they caught would be put to harsh torture because the orcs were certain that somehow every dwarf knew were long lost wealth had been sequestered when in sad truth, most of the little bands of dwarves who now ventured within had no idea where anything was.
The hoard the map revealed to her was most expertly concealed. A floor panel of marble at the foot of a balustrade could be pulled loose to reveal a hidden space beneath. A fabulous torque of pure mithril graven with spells of power in the secret language of the dwarves. A fearsome and impossibly ancient war mask such as dwarves are wont to affix to their helmets set with precious jade from far off lands. A small casque filled with rings made millennia ago in Gabilgathol by her sponsor's forefathers. These precious things she arranged carefully in a special velvet sack secured in a leather pouch at her belt cushioned against misadventure. The rucksack was also stuffed with gold coins and trivial jewelry. She had carefully loaded as much as her stout leather satchel would hold safely then replaced the panel. Now she was bound for the east gate and out. Still under the west slope of the Silvertine, she had a ways to go. Two days more at the pace she was forced to make.
Fortunately, the darkest passages had now given way to the dim luminescence of the hanging crystals which allowed her to move carefully without the little lantern.
As Ahmo felt her way ahead with her spear into a round chamber, she heard a sudden crash, as if a large body hitting a stone. Then the cry of a pack goat. Some dwarf has been caught, she thought to herself. As she decided the best course was to find a spot to lay low, there came a sudden rush of feet from behind. Some dozen goblins in rags rushed up, as though to pass her by, then ringed her round, others rushing past from another tunnel. She realized she was caught in the middle of an ambuscade aimed at some other secret sojourner!
Eduwiges of Faldham swore as she looked down on the large dying goat. Orcish arrows stuck out of its hide like a pincushion. The dank, matted, fur dripped blood from each of the wounds as sap would ooze from a damaged tree. Suddenly, with pathetic bleats, the animal breathed its last. The gurgling air from the beast’s lungs hissed as it choked off with finality. Eduwiges kicked a rock in disgust and began to strip her gear from the ridiculous saddle she had ridden on while attempting to give the slip to the orcs that pursued her. Muscles strained as she had to heave the dead beast up enough to retrieve her bow out from under the carcass. However, her quiver of arrows had been lost from its strap in the headlong flight. The orcs had boiled out of hidden passageways and surely would have overwhelmed her had she not fled. Suddenly, treasure hunting and doing odd jobs for the Orc-watch no longer seemed like such a good idea.
Eduwiges looked down at her armor. Slime and filth covered her from where she had fallen to the ground after the goat collapsed. Her face was scratched and she could feel the burn from where one of the black arrows had grazed her neck. The light poison from the arrow seethed viciously causing an angry welt. She cursed again as she flicked her hands towards the stone ground to remove some of the muck from her heavy gloves. Edu was a long way from running water she supposed, not that she had time to wash anyhow. Orcs could be on her at any moment. She finished stripping the animal of her gear and hurriedly put together a makeshift pack to sling over her shoulder. She looked at her bow and swore again. It was useless to her now and with Badu Druit, her sword, already strapped to her back there was no room for it either. She cut the bowstring from the weapon and tossed it into a crevasse. There was no use trying to break it but at least the orcs would not have it either. The bow had been a gift from the Nightthorn, one of the watch commanders of Imladris. Eduwiges muttered to herself, ‘I could be back in her bed, training with the watch and pulling guard instead of this mess, whatever was I thinking?’
She moved away from the dead beast and purposefully strode through piles of stacked rocks and broken earth. Edu’s gate was bowlegged as only a horse-mistress from Rohan could be and being from Faldham, more than most. She leaned forward as the floor ramped up like an earthen dam. Walking became a bit more strenuous as she moved to the top of a stone apron where the ground evened out. Crystaline lights dangled from nothingness and shone dimly on the mosaic floors. A large abyss loomed towards the distance. Eduwiges paused for a breath and wiped the sweat away from her forehead. She reached behind her and pulled a water skin from her makeshift pack, popped the top off, and filled her mouth. The first drink she swished the water around and spit it to the ground. Edu took several deep swallows before pouring some onto her hands and rinsing them off. She capped the water skin and replaced it on her pack. Eduwiges checked her equipment and prepared to move on. Hopefully in the direction of where the Orc Watch was.
Suddenly, she heard several elvin battle cries in the distance.The flaxen haired woman cocked her head to hear better and could make out the clamber and clash of arms and the grunts of many orcs. A lock of hair had fallen across her face from under her helm, strands of spun white gold.
Ahead, up the apron and close to the abyss a furious melee was taking place. A troupe of orcs, slavering in their intensity, were doing their best to bring down a lone elf. From the distance Eduwiges could see the whirl of a dun cloak and the flash of a spear. Gongs rang out like the smiths of Eregion, as the elf deflected the black swords of the brutish creatures and her battle cries could be heard echoing through the chambers of the poorly lit hall. She moved closer, silently gauging her moment to join the fray and bring respite to the outnumbered elleth. Orcs were falling, pierced through and through by the fierce thrusts of the elf. Suddenly, and hardly to be believed, Eduwiges was mesmerized by what she saw before her. A lone orc carrying an ancient relic of a crossbow took aim as his comrades rushed the valiant fighter. The warrior tossed her spear high in the air as she blocked sword thrusts with her shield. As the spear was in the air, the elf’s boot knife appeared in her hand and was launched into the orc with the crossbow’s throat. Choking and gagging on his black blood he tumbled to the ground like so much refuse. Eduwiges could not believe what she had seen as the elf snatched her spear back from the corpse and slew another enemy.
The orcs lunged forward, eight left standing, the rest dead or dying on the apron of flagstones that crumbled into nothingness. A cavern lay at the end of the crevasse, the age of centuries decaying the craftsmanship of the dwarves. Eduwiges was about to launch herself into the remaining eight orcs when the sound of iron shod feet added their noise to the clambering battle. Unable to look behind her, the elleth was not able to see the ten fresh largzuhm rushing in on her blind side. Quickly, before they could deploy for battle, the unseen Eduwiges leapt from her position and shouted her own battle cry, ‘Elbereth and ruin!’
Stunned, the orcs looked for the source of the shout as the shield-maiden slammed into their ranks with the sound of a thunderclap. Two went down immediately as Baedu Druit sent their heads to the flagstones, teeth chattering as they rolled into the abyss. The elf never paused despite her shock at the young warrior exploding into her enemies. She grabbed up a fallen orc's round shield and blocked the blow of a black sword and pirouetted. Her sword took an orc in the eye and as she completed her turn broke another orc’s forearm with the edge of her shield. The beast howled as his numbed hand dropped his weapon and black blood poured from the stump of his shoulder as the elf's lightning follow through took off its arm. The orc bled profusely, turned and staggered away as quickly as he could before succumbing to the blood loss,collapsing. The elf uttered a shout of her own, ‘Lacho calad! Drego morn!’
Her eyes flashed with wrath and golden light seemed to reflect off her revealed mail vest and steel tipped spear. The remaining orcs did not stand a chance as she made swift work of them. One, with the aid of her boot, sailed into the open chasm like a vulture sailing from a cliff.
Eduwiges had turned swiftly as the remaining orcs raised their weapons to attack this new threat. The greatsword gleamed in the dour light of the cavern and flashed as another enemy fell dead. Two orcs rushed her to try and negate the reach of her sword. Eduwiges was too canny to allow it. She stepped quickly to the left. The blade sang and another of the orcs fell with a cloven head; the other was stopped in his tracks by a boot to the chest. The orc flew backwards and landed on his spine. The remaining seven moved into a semi-circle and together advanced on the furious warrior. Eduwiges grinned through her helm and prepared to meet the onslaught. Suddenly, a hissing sound screamed through the air, and like a comet the mighty elf’s spear went all the way through the orc closest to Eduwiges.
The two women side by side, separated by generations upon generations were joined together with common interest, the joy of battle. Each of them relished the moment as they danced through the remaining six orcs. The elvish knight’s recovered spear and the shield-maiden’s greatsword seemed to synchronize together as they slew the enemy until only one was left. The orc Eduwiges had kicked. He stared at the women wide-eyed and slavering. Shivering with fear he promptly threw his spiked mace to the ground and fled. As he ran the orc screamed his horror into the halls of the great cavern. They watched him flee and Eduwiges walked among the bodies and made sure the last twitching largzuhm was dead. After taking a breath she turned her green eyes to the face of the elf she had aided. A grim smile was on the elleth’s face as she cast off her hood, revealing a stunning visage in the way only elves are beautiful. She had a prominent jaw and brow, cheekbones angled as glass and full lips. Her eyes flashed with the smile, a brilliant green. The smile turned into a laugh and she raised her sword to salute the shield-maiden’s valor. Eduwiges’ green eyes twinkled as she joined the elf in her laughter. She brushed her hair back with her left hand and wiped clean her greatsword on the tunic of one of the dead orcs. She sheathed the weapon and brushed her almost white hair out of her face. She turned to the elf and introduced herself. ‘Eduwiges of Faldham, at your service.’
The elf awkwardly removed a heavy sack from her back, adjusted the straps, then replaced it, her face etched with concern. Her brilliant green eyes, like emeralds, shined with some inner light, twinkling merrily as she allowed herself a laugh. For a brief moment this struck Eduwiges as arrogant but the grin was very genuine and warm. “In mortal lands I am called Ahmo. So go with that. I think they found me, looking for you.
I suppose you were the one who lost a goat?”
