Chapter 10
The wolf-spawn and her kin were not traveling toward Gundabad, as Túrthogor had instructed. As soon as they had left the shelter of the Witch's forest they turned northwest and traveled along the Celebrant, to what end it was not certain.
Túrthogor narrowed his eyes as he listened to the report of his grey-feathered spy. Could it be that the sword had been hidden in the depths of Moria? No, that could not be it. The wolf-scum had no ties to the dwarves there. He supposed he would just have to wait. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed his spy. The small bird fluttered its wings and took to the sky through a gap in the cloth covering the makeshift throne room.
He sat back in the dark wood that was his temporary throne, a frown on his lips. He doubted the elleth would return to her people to warn them of any threat – such would not be in the nature of her blood. She would try to challenge him on her own, and to do that she would bring the sword as he demanded. The problem, however, was the amount of time he gave her. The Blue Moon was too far away, and he wondered why he had listened to his advisor's counsel. Should the elleth find the sword soon enough she could have the time to raise up her own force and present an irritating problem. He hadn't been expecting her to visit not just the elves in Imladris, but the elves in Lórien, too. Should they band together then he certainly would have a difficult time ahead of him. And worse, Mirkwood was not too far from Gundabad.
"Trouble, my Lord?" a gruff voice asked from the corner of the room.
He glanced to the side where the general of his army stood, a dark cloak covering all but the frown on his lips. Alagos rarely showed his face without the cover of darkness.
"It is nothing," he responded.
Alagos just grunted. "As you say. But what exactly do you plan to do as you wait for the wolf-spawn?"
Túrthogor stood from his throne and exited the tent.
"What else is there to do but ensure that our forces are ready for the coming extermination?" he asked at the entrance. Alagos followed him moments after.
Black walls of stone rose around them on all sides, save for a crack ahead of them that went all the way through the mountain. They walked through this, their footsteps echoing ominously in the enclosed space before it opened up to reveal a large clearing dotted with the tents of their troops. The crashes and clangs and shouts of warriors training filled the air with the chaotic sound of organized forces.
"Two thousand strong," Túrthogor mused as he stopped on the ledge that overlooked the rocky clearing. It wasn't even half of his actual force. He hadn't the need for any more than that in the beginning – but with the girl's present actions, he could no longer be sure. Still, his army outnumbered the filth in Narmo Rilli ten-to-one – including the wolves.
"It was a necessary judgement. Any more and there would be risk of your kingdom being overrun while we are away."
Túrthogor scowled at his general's mention of the threat that lingered near his home – the one he had left his queen to see to.
"They are more a nuisance than a hindrance," he snarled. He certainly desired it to be so, but the rogues were encroaching too far upon his lands, and their numbers were growing.
"For now," Alagos agreed, "but they have the ability and the numbers to cause more than enough trouble should they see the need. And though they may not follow either of the Wolfkin kings, I do not imagine they would sit idly by as we wage war."
Túrthogor glanced at him, unsure at that point whether Alagos was trying to give counsel or doubt. Perhaps both. He turned back to the clearing and said, "Then we strike before they have the chance to react, as I have planned."
Alagos stepped forward to stand next to him, lifting his head so that his dark eyes were visible beneath his hood. "And should they find the time to fight back? Andaër's people are far enough away that the rogues have a chance at reaching them before we do."
Túrthogor's scowl deepened. Even though his general had his title because of his accomplishments, he tried to prove his own king a fool far too many times. Probably more infuriating than that was that he always seemed to be right.
"Consider it a trap then," he snapped. "We are never sure of their location, and surely an attack on Narmo Rilli will bring them out of hiding."
Alagos grunted in response. As much as that was true, they had no real way of assessing the strength that the rogues might bring to either kingdom. It could mean defeat for Túrthogor's army, and that wasn't something either of them were willing to risk. If need be, Túrthogor would wipe out the elves of Narmo Rilli and then again bolster his army and wait to catch Andaër off-guard. One thing was certain – should the rogues strike this small portion of his forces, the battle would be much harder than he anticipated. There was still a chance, however…
"As long as the wolf-spawn brings the sword our victory is assured," he said finally. "That is, if the stories are true."
"Considering who the stories are about I wouldn't be too sure," his general muttered. They both cringed in mutual aversion before Túrthogor turned and left the cliff that gave vision to the troops. Alagos trailed behind him as he descended to walk amongst the ranks, and as soon as the ellyn saw the two of them coming they picked up the pace of their training, fearing a harsh punishment should they be caught slacking. And, with the murderous look in Túrthogor's eyes, there would be no shortage of those.
xxXYXxx
Fanuidhol was not far away from Lórien, thank Isilmë. Lorelei might have stabbed something if she had to travel as far as she had from Imladris. As it was, it only took a few hours of swift walking and occasional Ishta-riding. They had reached the base of the mountain by the time the sun was just starting to light the sky, though Ishta got the sense that Lorelei really didn't know where to look. She stood in one place for a long time, just staring at the mountain. Ishta tried to say something a few times, but was silenced with a glare or ignored completely.
"East," Lorelei said finally. "It will be on the eastern side of the mountain."
Ishta cocked her head to the side skeptically. "By what means, exactly, have you come across that assumption?"
"Upon her back the sun brings new hope," Lorelei answered as she began trudging forward once again, Ishta trotting leisurely by her side. "It is a verse from the poem. It references the dawn, I believe."
"That still leaves us half a mountain."
The comment once again went unnoticed as Lorelei continued on, determination in her eyes. The two of them climbed the slopes, keeping an eye out for anything that was remotely root-like (meaning they stopped at about every tree they came across which were not few and far between). It wasn't until the sun was halfway through its descent that Lorelei once again stopped with a frown.
"I should have inquired Galadriel as to the location of the sword."
Ishta looked up at her with alarm. "You mean you did not question her in your mind?"
"It was not in the front of my thoughts at that particular moment."
"But there is a possibility that she knows where the chamber is hidden, and perhaps she was even there when Yaban hid the sword, and you didn't even think to ask her?"
"Indeed, that is what I said, Ishta. Let us move on."
Ishta just sighed roughly, which almost came out as a growl. "All these years and I still haven't a single idea what to do with you."
A small pebble tumbled down toward her in the next moment and barely missed her nose, unlikely an accident. Ishta rolled her eyes and followed grudgingly. If they were supposed to find the sword and bring it to Gundabad by the Blue Moon then they could ill afford the time it would take to thoroughly search half of an entire mountain. Still, Lorelei hiked onward.
After a while, Ishta noticed that Lorelei no longer stopped at the trees with roots above the ground… or any tree at all, for that matter. She didn't even seem to glance in their direction. Ishta waited for a few trees longer before she said anything.
"If we are supposed to be looking for roots then why are you not doing so?"
Lorelei looked back at her with a small smirk. "I remembered something."
Ishta cocked her head to the side. "Care to share?"
Lorelei paused a moment to catch her breath, during which she pointed up to the top of the mountain, which was concealed by clouds.
"Fanuidhol. In Silvan that means 'cloudy head.' The very first line in the poem – 'The blood whistles in the mist' – indicates that our destination is the top of this mountain. Blood Whistler will be found in the thickness of the clouds."
Ishta frowned as Lorelei once again began to climb the mountain, though she kept pace with her partner.
"You keep relying on verses from a poem that might not have anything to do with the location of the sword. What if the poem was just supposed to let our people know that it still existed, should any of them come across Muzrad?"
Lorelei huffed. "Nonsense, no one would give their life for a little detail like that. I am sure the orc already knew it existed and he was probably torturing Muzrad to obtain the location."
"Sure, are you?" Ishta muttered. She wondered if Lorelei was perhaps sure only because she did not want to be proved wrong. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.
Still, it wasn't as though Ishta had any better ideas. She did not mention anything further as they traveled the next few days, climbing higher and higher. The already cool weather turned icy, and soon they had to brave the slopes thick with the snow that had already covered the mountaintop. Thankfully there was no sign of a storm, though the sun hardly reached through the covering of clouds overhead. Ishta was hardly bothered by it due to her thick fur coat, and both she and Lorelei lived with icy winters in Narmo Rilli. Though Lorelei wasn't dressed for the weather, she could handle the chill. As long as it didn't snow or become too windy she would be fine.
The days passed relatively quickly and with little words – Lorelei focused all her energy on making it to Blood Whistler. Ishta noticed, however, the weariness behind her eyes, and that she quite often winced when she used her arm to help her climb. When Ishta had asked how her shoulder was healing, Lorelei just smiled and said it was fine. The fact that Ishta still couldn't feel any pain from it discounted nearly anything Lorelei told her. But truly she could make no objections, for Lorelei seemed fine for the most part. Until it harmed either of them, the loss of their connection could be overlooked. They had more pressing matters.
When they finally reached the first wisp of cloud, Lorelei slowed their ascent so they could more easily take in their surroundings. This slower march went on, seemingly endless. There wasn't a tree in sight so high on the mountain. The snow-covered rock was the only scenery, aside from the grey mist that dampened nearly all their senses. Ishta couldn't smell anything but crisp air, and every once in a while she caught a whiff of something she couldn't place. The mist dampened her hearing, too, and she feared that something might be able to surprise them if it was quiet enough.
"I cannot see the sun to know if we are on the right side of the mountain," Lorelei grumbled at one point. Ishta couldn't help but think that either way it wouldn't matter since the amount of ground they had to cover was no small task. It would be pure luck to stumble across any sign of the sword the way they were searching. Still, Lorelei trudged on. She had not stopped for rest aside to eat and it was evident in her movements, though she would never admit such a thing.
"Lorelei," Ishta said one night. "It is hardly possible to see my own nose. We should rest while we can."
"Your nose is black, of course you cannot see it," was the response she received. And on they went.
They traveled five days on the mountain in total, making their entire journey thus far a day short of a week. Though it was not so long a time, it still whittled down the window they had for any mistakes. Ishta worried that the time until the Blue Moon would be half over before they found Blood Whistler. What would really happen to their people then? What shadow was it that threatened to befall them? Lorelei knew more than she did – she could feel it – though she couldn't say why or how. All she could do was follow and hope the elleth knew what she was doing (in hindsight: a terrible idea altogether).
It was during the afternoon of their sixth day on the mountain that Ishta realized something was terribly wrong. She stopped, looked around, and put her nose to the ground in curiosity. She trotted over to the side and found another pair of tracks running parallel to the ones they had already made. To her dismay, they were of Lorelei's boots and her own paw prints.
"Lorelei, we are going in circles," she said loud enough that the princess might hear.
She received no answer. She looked up, irritated at first, but then worried as she realized she couldn't see Lorelei. Surely she could not have fallen – Ishta would have heard that, at least. Still, she wasted no time in bounding through the fluffy mounds of snow, no longer caring whether she fell through to the stone below or not. She followed Lorelei's tracks and came to a rock that jutted from the side of the mountain a little farther than the rest. The footprints, to the wolf's surprise, seemed to disappear behind the stone, though at first it seemed attached to the mountainside.
She trotted forward tentatively to find a small crack in between the rock and the cliff wall. She squeezed her way through easily enough, and the passage opened into a small ravine. There, on the side opposite the entrance, stood an old, grey oak tree. Its roots twisted above ground before they delved deep into the mountain for nourishment – Lorelei stood next to it. Ishta came to her side with utter disbelief. In all honesty, she had not expected to find it. Yet, her kin never ceased to amaze.
The wall before them was ancient but the carvings in the stone were clear as day. The words, decreasing gradually in size, swirled and converged to a single point. The words were in several different languages, many of which Ishta could not read. Those that she could, however, seemed to be different lines of the poem. In the center of that circle of words was a hole just large enough to fit, perhaps, a key.
As if reading her thoughts, Lorelei produced the now-completed key from the pack on her belt. She held it up to the hole, paused, and then fitted it into the port. It slid in easily, though the sound of scraping metal against rock was a little harsh. Still, she turned the key to the right and the door lurched to life. It shifted and particles of dust fell away to reveal its outline. Then, it swung inward. Both Lorelei and Ishta stood, amazed at it.
"He must have had help from the dwarves," Lorelei said softly. How else could there be a door so completely hidden in the wall of the mountain? The days before she was born certainly were more peaceful. The dwarves were nearly as distant as Galadriel now.
Without another word she stepped into the dark cavern that the door led to. She paused for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the minimal light – it seemed the cavern was a tunnel that extended far into the mountain. She realized then that the tunnel was not nearly as dark as it should have been, even with the light from the door. The rock that made the cavern, whatever it was, seemed to glow with the muted light the mist allowed through. Even as she walked forward, there was enough light for her to make out the walls.
She didn't know how long she walked, Ishta's claws tapping lightly on the stone behind her. The light that the entrance provided was nearly depleted – the stone only able to reflect it so far. Just when she thought she was going to be plunged into darkness, the light suddenly became brighter. Curious, she quickened her steps, and sure enough the tunnel opened into a wide cavern that could house perhaps a hundred elves. A small light shined down from the ceiling and when Lorelei looked up she found a small crack in the rock above. It was too small for anyone to fit into and didn't stretch across the entire cavern, keeping the sword still hidden.
Lorelei dropped her gaze to the wall across from the entrance and noted that the only thing unnatural about the alcove was the writing on the wall. There was no place for the sword to be kept – no chest to contain it nor peg to hang it from. She went up to the writing and studied it. As she did so, the curious look in her eyes grew dark and she frowned.
"It's just the poem," she said. "It's the poem written in Narinos – nothing more."
Ishta, too, was confused by that. Weren't there any directions at least to find the sword? Perhaps a riddle to solve before it was revealed? But, no, Ishta read the words and that's all they were – the poem.
"Perhaps you should recite it out loud," Ishta suggested, though she had no real desire to hear it out loud. It was poor enough written down.
Lorelei said it anyway.
"The blood whistles in the mist, and upon her back the sun brings new hope. Warrior, warrior, light the way ahead. Bring peace to the nightingales, black with sin's dark dread. The gnarled root, the view of past glories and future tales. Just north of the Great Mine, just south of the peace unclouded by tradition's veils. Warrior, Warrior, blow your trumpet and eat up your enemies like kindling on fire. The battle won, victory done, come only again when the need is dire."
Once she was finished reciting it, she and Ishta waited in anticipatory silence. They waited a full minute but nothing happened. Not even the tiniest particle of dust stirred. Lorelei narrowed her eyes and just glared at the wall. Then, she turned and made her way around the entire cavern, closely inspecting every inch of the rock. Ishta went around the other side to speed up the process, but she found nothing. When she and Lorelei met at the other side of the cavern, she just shook her head. Lorelei frowned and turned back to the writing.
"It makes no sense," she said. "The poem was supposed to be the map. It was supposed to lead to the sword. Does that mean Muzrad died for nothing? Is this only where the map is hidden? Does it point somewhere else?"
Ishta shook her head. "I don't know. The poem is not explicit – perhaps you interpreted it wrong."
Lorelei debated this for a moment before she let out an irritated huff and plopped down on the cave floor with her legs crossed. She folded her arms over her chest and stared at the wall before her.
"I know this is it. Unless Yaban wished to lead me to a dead end, this has to be it. I just need time."
Fortunately, they were still only a week shy of two months away from the next Blue Moon. It would take a month to travel to Gundabad if they only walked, which was ideal. Lorelei needed to be at her full strength to confront whatever would be waiting for them there, and that meant that Ishta had to minimize the amount of time she was in her larger form. That gave her at least a week if she was willing to narrowly make it there by the time of the Blue Moon.
After a while, Ishta laid down at Lorelei's side and placed her chin on her paws with a soft sigh. She, too, tried to puzzle out what it was that the poem meant. She kept drawing blanks and eventually gave up. The coolness of the stone eventually crept through the warmth of her coat so she stood and paced the room a few times. She stopped next to Lorelei, about to ask her a question, but paused with surprise.
Lorelei was still puzzling the poem, it seemed, but Ishta saw a single line of sweat trickle down her brow. She was doing well at hiding it, but her breaths were strained. Ishta's mind flashed back to the time she had collapsed in Lothlórien, and though it had only lasted moments it was still worrying. Ishta had attributed it to a lack of rest, and surely they hadn't had much rest as they traveled the mountain, but what if it was more?
Before she could say anything, Lorelei stood up with sudden determination. She repeated the poem out loud, though this time she spoke in the tongue of men. Ishta doubted the answer could be so simple. When nothing happened, she wasn't surprised. Lorelei tried again, though this time with a slight variation in the translation. It sounded, Ishta mused, exactly like the way Muzrad had relayed it to them…
The words etched into the wall began to glow an eerie blue. Ishta stared wide-eyed with disbelief. That was it? They just had to recite the poem in Westron?
The answer was yes, obviously, and again there was the sound of a great stone shifting against another. A rectangular crack formed underneath the etching of the poem, and the stone pushed forward but a few inches from the wall before it stopped. Lorelei stepped forward curiously and eyed it, then grabbed hold of each of the top corners. She pulled at first with no effect, but after a little bit of coaxing the stone crawled forward. Then suddenly it came out fully and dropped to the floor – Lorelei gasped and jumped backwards just in time. The stone lay still on the floor, and where it had been in the wall was a dark chamber just large enough to fit a sword still in its scabbard.
"There, see?" Lorelei asked with a smirk. "I told you it was here."
Ishta just rolled her eyes as the elf stepped forward and reached into the hole. The blade she pulled out was larger than Ishta had expected. It was not quite a great sword, but it was definitely longer than the dual blades Lorelei wielded. The scabbard was curved at the tip and made of black leather, the ends held together with gleaming silver. The hilt was also wrapped in black leather, though a few swirled, silver designs enfolded it. Ishta watched with her head slightly tilted as Lorelei grabbed ahold of the hilt and pulled slowly. The ring of the steel sliding out of its sheath was almost musical, and the delicate curve of the blade was decorated with twisting lines, almost like tendrils of ivory. One side of the blade was sharp along is entire expanse while the other stopped halfway to allow for the design. It was elegant, unlike much of the sturdy weapons the narmo-nosse had taken to forging in the recent years.
"Blood Whistler," Lorelei breathed, taking in its beauty.
A sharp stab of pain exploded in her shoulder. She felt fire spread out from her wound. She let go of the sword with a gasp; it clattered to the ground with its scabbard. Ishta felt the slightest twinge of pain, but nothing further.
"Lorelei!" she barked in alarm. At first Lorelei made no response, but after a moment she relaxed and breathed out a deep sigh.
"Forgive me, that took me by surprise. I am fine."
"You are fine, my snout! Lorelei, what is going on?"
"Nothing!" Lorelei snapped, her teeth bared. Ishta stepped back with shock. There was a brief moment of silence, at the end of which Lorelei sighed, and it seemed as though all of her weariness of the past days and more fell onto her shoulders. "Forgive me, Ishta. These past months have been long."
Ishta was unsure what she should respond to that. Of course the past few months had been difficult, but… it still was far out of Lorelei's realm of reactions to shout at her for being concerned about her. Well. Sort of. In this situation, anyway.
"What is it, Lorelei?" she asked quietly. "You know you can confide in me anything."
Again, Lorelei sighed but she did not answer. She instead knelt and grabbed the sword and its scabbard. She sheathed it quickly and let go of the hilt, then waited a few moments as if to be sure her shoulder would not pain her again. When it was clear that it wouldn't, she stood.
"We should be on our way quickly. I want to end this threat as soon as possible."
Ishta let a small growl escape her throat as Lorelei walked past her, but she said nothing. Their descent down the mountain was more direct – it took them only three days to reach the bottom. Then, their path turned north alongside the mountain range. It was a long journey ahead – one with an outcome that worried Ishta. She hoped Lorelei knew what she was doing, and judging by past experiences, that didn't tend to turn out well.
xxXYXxx
Túrthogor's eyes alighted with dark fire as his spy related what it had found. The wolf-spawn had found the sword, and she was making her way to Gundabad at that very moment. The sword was so close to his grasp… Before he could celebrate too deeply in the moment, however, the bird squawked and informed him more news.
He narrowed his eyes and demanded, "A Wolfkin passed over the mountains? When?"
A few days ago, it said. His spy had spotted the wolf-scum but could not report for fear of losing the one with the sword in the wilderness. Apparently the wolfkin was headed toward Mirkwood – grave news, indeed.
"Anything else to report?" he growled, but the bird said there was nothing and flew away. After which, Túrthogor stood and paced the room ferociously. What on earth could it mean? Aside from the foolish wolf seeking the sword, none had wandered so far from their territory in centuries, aside from scouts and messengers. It was possible it was only a messenger. Yet, there was also the distinct possibility that they were going to Mirkwood for aid. Why had he not caught wind of this sooner?
He let out a frustrated snarl and slammed his fist into the mountain wall behind his throne. He turned his glare on Alagos.
"Send the wargs after her. I want the wolf's carcass abandoned and the wolf-spawn for myself."
Alagos nodded, not surprised by the order. He turned and left the tent, then moved through the ranks of the soldiers, paying little attention to their stares and training exercises. He passed out of the small portion of elven warriors Túrthogor brought – about eight-hundred in total – and came to the much-hated section of orcs. There were fights between the two often before Alagos ordered a wall to be set up and warned the orcs that if any of them passed through without permission, he would personally chop its head clean off. It had worked so far, but they hadn't been stationed there for very long.
Alagos didn't need to tell the archers at the top of the gate to be ready. As soon as they saw him they took up their positions, ready to fire at the orcs if they tried anything.
When Alagos stepped through the gate, he was greeted with sneers and growls and hoots of amusement, but none of the filthy beasts dared come to close to him. He had no doubt that they would if they felt like it, but the prospect of raiding Narmo Rilli kept them in check. So, he walked mostly unhindered until he came across the orc he knew to be in charge of the others. The foul creature jeered at him, or perhaps it was actually trying to be civil. Either way, Alagos didn't care. He stopped in front of him and held his head high, looking down at him with slits for eyes and a silent dare for the orc to challenge his authority.
"Have you still a taste for wolf-blood?" he asked, to which the orc just laughed and brandished its weapon. Alagos didn't blink.
"Is it time?" the orc growled out.
"Not just yet," he stated, and the orc's glee faded. "But I do have a task for you."
The orc eyed him suspiciously but ultimately barked, "Go on."
"There is a wolfkin girl making her way to this mountain – you will find her somewhere along the east side of the mountain range. I want you to capture her and kill her wolf. You will bring her to me and be certain she is alive enough to walk on her own."
The orc grunted, a contemplative (well, murderous) look on its jowls.
"Is it the same one you wanted us to attack on the High Pass?" it asked.
Alagos nodded. "Yes, that is the one."
"Why are you so interested in that one?"
Alagos was surprised at the question, but he narrowed his eyes dangerously. "That is for me to know, orc. Either bring her to me or you will never taste elf blood again."
The orc grunted, obviously unimpressed by the threat, but asked, "By what means do you want us to bring her?"
"Any means necessary. Send your strongest riders, if you wish. But send no more than twenty – we cannot afford to alert the elves of our presence."
The orc bared its fangs. "I will see it done myself, my Lord."
Alagos ignored the way the creature mocked his title, and nodded with a glance at the other jeering orcs. "Good, I expect news by the end of this month."
With that, he turned around to go back to his troops and make certain that his plan was foolproof, no matter who challenged him. The crowd of orcs that had gathered around opened for him to pass, and as he walked he heard the orc leader shout, "Listen up, scum…!"
He did not hear any more as he passed through the gate and it closed with a crash behind him. He stood there a moment, eying the elves that were standing around him. They wanted to know why he went in there. They wondered if it was time for battle. Alagos lowered his hood so that the soldiers could see his face. His black hair fell neatly about his shoulders, and his forest green eyes burned darkly.
"War is near," he said. His voice resonated throughout the enclosed space of the camp. "Our enemies will fall beneath our blades like ants in a rushing river. But do not be fooled! The wolfkin are strong and will defend their home to their last dying breath. Use what limited time we have left to sharpen your skills and strengthen your wills. On the night of the Blue Moon, we go to war!"
The cheer that rose from the warriors was deafening. Alagos let his eyes wander the eager faces of the men in silent pleasure. After he allowed them time to exult he slipped his hood back over his head and returned to his king. He had much work ahead of him.
(A/N): Well... I promised chapters more often, and this counts. So there. I'm a terrible person, I know. But at least I'm posting now? Yes? ...Review?