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Not
the feather
is more powerful.
Also not
the word.
The will
defeats all
even
the reason.
- Dark Elvish Wisdom
North of Middle-Earth, North of the realm of the Kraggash, End of the Third Age
During a forced rest through the weather in a cave that was tightly enclosed by thick oaks, did Cadhalor observe the slave, who, despite her blindness, tried to write down notes. She did so quite adept, by using a rock with a sharp edge with which she was scraping fine lines into the paper. Ever again did she check with the tips of her fingers whether she could decipher the letters.
Thangrineth stood by the entrance and held watch. In the meanwhile she ate some of her provisions; her mount she had left outside in the rain, it was smelling too much to her. A bit deeper in the cave did Sardaï feast on a coney that he caught himself. The cracking and splinting of the fine bones made clear that the fiendish steed was eating the animal whole. The scent of blood hung in the cool cave air.
»You know to help yourself«, Cadhalor said to Inúr.
»I have lost my eyes, but not my mind, milord«, she replied lost in her thoughts and blushed because she became aware how insolent that must have sounded. »Forgive«, she stammered, »I ...«
»It shall be forgiven«, he said lightly.
The more Cadhalor got to know about Inúr by simply observing her behavior, the more astounding he found her. No bickering with fate or her owner, who had called her infront of her simply expendable. For a barbarian, she possessed an open, wake mind and a pleasant being. To an Elf like Thangrineth she was a waste. A slave like her, moreover from the tribe of Farron had much value. The blinding had taken much of that from her, but it was still lying far over that of a usual barbarian. And then there were also her feelings to her owner: devoted love, without any condition.
Cadhalor decided to win her trust, instead of remaining upon his exalted status. Her loyalty was of more worth than her obedience. She was the sister of a barbarian chieftain. The situation conjured up the need to think in a more political way than usual. Quite possible that Inúr would find herself suddenly at the top of the hierarchy and a vast host. Such a number of able arms could be of use to them. Hence she should remember him later, and in good memory.
»You should try to draw in that way.«
Inúr did not stop to scrape letters. »It is certainly harder and would not meet the beauty in the slightest. They would be travesties and I would not want that. Rather do I describe with words, milord.«
Cadhalor regarded her pensively. At the moment he was still convinced to complete the task, the one from Munugash just as the one from the Conclave. But what, if they would die from the poison? He wanted to let her feel some trust and lure her. »Say, Inúr, what would you do for your lady?«
»Anything, milord«, she answered immediately.
»Would you be inclined, under certain circumstances to take a great burden upon yourself upon which the lives of many Dark Elves would hang?«, he inquired.
Inúr raised after old habits her head to look at him. Behind the band lay the empty eye sockets, but upon her face he could read perplexion. »I am awaiting what you wish to tell me, milord.«
He was uncertain himself how far he should go. »The moment has not come yet«, he evaded after a few moments of thinking. »But should it become clear that Thangrineth and I will not return alive to our lands then you will take over for us.«
She got up and bowed deeply. »That would be the greatest honor that would ever have been bestowed upon me, milord! I am glad for your trust ...«
»... to a blind?«, Thangrineth called in disbelief from the entrance. »Cadhalor, get your own slave with whom you can forge plans and let mine in peace, understood? It stopped raining. We should go on.«
Inúr rose up in fright like under the strike of a whip. It appeared as if she would feel caught because she had spoken with Cadhalor.
»To the contrary of you, I try to figure out how we can bring our adventure to an good end in case of our failure«, he gave back wholly unimpressed.
»We will not fail«, Thangrineth sounded condescendingly. »No, I will not fail. To guarantee for you would be as certain as laying your hand into the maw of an hungry Orc and hope the creature would not bite.« She bit into the finger-long piece of dried meat and chewed slowly. »She only is a blind slave, nothing more. She could never do what is meant for us. Without us she would already lie dead in a hole or in parts in a cauldron of Orcs or other creatures. Do not put nonsense in her head that might let her think that she would be useful.«
Cadhalor was glad for Thangrineth's arrogance for a change, that made him appear nicer. Even though his rival was right when it came down to principles, they could not count out anything, as the meeting with Munugash had proven. Through the poison the two might have been dead already as well, if the Kraggash would have wanted it so. »I see it differently«, he answered harshly.
»She still lives because of that«, Thangrineth replied, »because she is one of the Farron and her brother is on the march to gather a host. Otherwise I would have parted her head from her body for her recent mistake. Remember: Escape of a slave! Other slaves die for just the attempt, yes, alone for the utterance of the word escape!«
Cadhalor saw that Inúr's face had lost all its glad beaming. In one point Thangrineth was right sadly: She was not his slave.
»What about your wonderful plan to destroy the realm of the Kraggash?«, he asked and sounded scoffing. He was in the mood to rile the ambitious, aspiring Elf. »Where do I fit into that?«
»Not at all«, Thangrineth hurled disdainfully against him. »I will not need you for that and I just decided to lay nothing of it open to you. In the end you present the plan as your own to excel me before the Conclave.«
Cadhalor laughed pitying.
Thangrineth rose suddenly up and grasped after her spear, then she retreated a step into the cave and laid a finger unto her lips.
»Be silent«, Cadhalor whispered to the slave. »Someone is coming.« He put the string on the bow, took the quiver and went up to Thangrineth.
He heard and smelled what drew closer. Judging the heavy steps and the deep throaty voices, a horde of trolls marched through the forest. It had to be about ten, their weight brought the ground to shake and the small wigs of the oaks to dance.
Cadhalor understood the simple sentences, complex word structures were not lying within the abilities of the simple beings.
»Gold!«, roared one of the monsters. »Gold I want to have!«
»Meat is better«, called another. »But nothing tough. Want something tender again. Baredoes are best.«
»Yes, Baredoes! Hopefully he has them«, roared the first troll excited.
Baredoes were women. Trolls called them so because the race of Man had in contrast to trolls almost no hair on their bodies. The dialect, Cadhalor could not put a finger on. It certainly were not trolls from the North of Middle-Earth. What the hairy creatures missed of reason, they evened out with brute strength and growth.
»'s will work«, roistered another troll. »We get into the fortress. She promised it.«
»Aye«, one did agree loudly. »Aye! No one made it before us. We crack him. And tear off his arms and legs like a bug. And then we eat him.«
Loud cheer sounded up. »And break in his house«, they roared. »All his towers. Fall apart likes pebbles.«
That made the Elves attentive.
The horde passed the entrance too far away as that they could have seen what kind of trolls marched there through the forest and thicket.
Thangrineth made her way first.
»Wait for us« Cadhalor said to Inúr. »They are too broad to enter the cave.« Also he made his pursuit now.
He could not see Thangrineth anymore already. The Elf used the silence of their people to sneak up on the monsters through the thicket and the sheltering brushwork. Only the slight swinging of a twig told him where she had vanished.
Cadhalor decided for the way through the crowns of the trees.
Quickly he hung his bow on his back, climbed up the next trunk and jumped in a height of seven steps from branch to branch, leaped in short but strong jumps and overcame quickly a quite great distance. The skill lay in foreseeing a path in which he would not get entangled with his bow and fall. That would be dangerous and a shame at that, even though no one would likely witness it.
Soon the white back of the last troll came into the vision of the Elf. Around the hips it wore a loincloth reinforced with iron plates, its legs were enfolded by thick rope that most likely was supposed to protect them from blade attacks. Its weapon was a coarsely forged, long handled mace, at which end protruded seven hand long iron thorns.
The size of the trolls, Cadhalor found strange: Not more than four steps in height, but instead far more muscled than those he had seen before and killed. They must have come from another region of Middle-Earth, maybe were wandering or maybe followed a ritual where they had to prove themselves as warriors before they were allowed to return.
»Ho! Make slower!« The troll complained loudly. »Cannot go so fast no more.«
As answer he received a small rock hurled against the head.
»Shut up, you clods!«, it echoed as order through the forest. »The Galran Unuk isn't deaf.«
»Aye. Good. Understood«, the white troll roared back.
Cadhalor could only shake his head. Stupidity and ugliness everywhere - that was Middle-Earth away from his home.
He hurried over the heads of the trolls, without that they would perceive his presence and overtook the heavy horde that was walking in wild chaos and displayed neither discipline nor a march order. They relied entirely on their brute strength.
Cadhalor sat on a branch ten steps before them and studied them from the front.
These monsters would have a devastating effect on common enemies, when they were rolling about with their yellow eyes and the goat-pupils and opened their disgusting jaws. The faces were coarse and covered with thick beards in which hung dirt and filth. Padded lips, rubbery eye-brows, broad jaw-bones and outstanding, long teeth.
They stench disgusted Cadhalor.
The troll at the front marked the leader and to the contrary of the others did he wear an entire armor, that was covered in rust and seemed to be made of several iron pieces of the protection of defeated enemies that had been put together with iron wire. Of course, Cadhalor did not discover anything that would indicate a defeated Elf.
A bird-like whistle let him look to his right. Thangrineth had hidden herself there in the ferns and gave her location to him with the sound. Fear of discovery the two had not to have, the high tone would not be perceived by the trolls by something other than a nightly bird.
»Futok«, called the leader and a troll with a bearer frame on his back, on which he carried something square beneath a blanket, came up to him. »Put down and walk. To the end of forest. Want to know where tower is«, he gave order.
The monster grunted and put down the frame; rattling it met the ground. Cadhalor heard a repressed groan. The blanket had been sliding off a little by the impact and he saw iron bars. A cage!
»Stinking clod-nose!«, the leader was insulting the other growling. »Not so hard. Or it breaks. Need it for getting in tower! Said often enough.«
»Stinking clod-nose«, a second roared and took up a branch that it hurled after the carrier.
Loudly complaining, the scolded one began his way, while the remaining horde lay down their bags and gathered around the leader. Very quiet - at least for their customs - they were conversing of how to go against the tower and that astounded Cadhalor who still sat on the branch: There would be no assault.
»Clods, all of you!«, the leader was muttering at them. »Will be easy. It knows where door to tower is. But is secret. So no one knows.«
Cadhalor could not image a secret passage through which a grown troll should fit. And why should it tell them how to pass unnoticed the defenses of the Galran Unuk, if it wasn't intended to be a trap for the monsters!
One way or another: He was not happy about what the trolls were intending to do. Their invasion would be noticed and when the guards of the Galran Unuk would be alarmed, it would just make it harder for the Elves. Cadhalor came to the conclusion that the trolls must not be allowed to reach the tower. After the it, one could look later.
Hence he climbed the tree to the top and looked towards the North-east and saw the immense building!
Six towers stood in a distance of fifty steps from each other, about two miles away from him. They protruded up against the sky, got thinner the higher they grew and probably would an arrow shot for the stars not reach the top of them. By the first glance, it appeared like a chaotic mess, but at the second the strange esthetics became clear that spoke to Cadhalor's sense for beauty. And caught him more and more. As if the gods would have rammed towers into the ground. He wanted to see these immense constructs close up.
Another bright whistle interrupted his reverie. Thangrineth called for him.
So he climbed back down and returned just in the very moment in which the scout-troll came back from the edge of the forest. Cadhalor whistled to the hidden Elf that she should be prepared for an assault and laid an arrow unto the string of his bow.
As the confirmation sounded up, he aimed for the right eye of the leader and gave the shaft free; while the projectile was still on its flight, he grasped quick as lightning after a second and fired it right behind the first. More than three heartbeats were not lying between them, Man and most Eldar could not compete with his marksmanship and also not his accuracy.
The first arrow penetrated the eye and stuck deep; there the second arrived and destroyed the other iris. On this short distance the projectiles had not lost any of their power and destroyed the back of the skull. The leader fell against two trolls, his right leg was twitching uncontrolled.
The monsters roared up and raised their weapons, ducked and looked into every direction after the insidious archer.
You are so stupid, you do not even realize when you are dead. Cadhalor shot the next one with two arrows through the throat, without that they spotted him, after that a troll fell through a single shot in the neck and already fell another with two hits into the heart to the ground. The fifth he slew with a perfect aim into the wide-open jaw.
The monsters still knew not what happened around them.
Cadhalor was glad to be able to decimate the entire horde from his hide-out out. He regretted that he could not take the powerful bones with him. His great passion was the carving of bone and so he would probably not be able to resist to take at least a shin. As memory and for Esmonäe's collection. Out of the many bones he could have made a nice instrument.
But he had not counted in Thangrineth. Was it her need to prove herself before him, her jealousy or her will to fight - she jumped out of her hiding and attacked the five remaining trolls with her spear. Her target was: The cage.
Thangrineth slit a troll throat during her leap, the parry of the monster came far too late. In a mix of coughing and gargling, her enemy fell, while black blood gushed from the wound.
She stood amidst the four remaining creatures, two have them had their backs turned to her. They were not dangerous yet, hence she would take care of the enemies first that were growling and charging her.
So she enjoyed it! Why should she leave the entire fun to Cadhalor? Besides, she wanted to know what in the cage was. Best before her rival.
Thangrineth was sliding through the legs of the first troll; doing so, she hooked her spear between them and brought the creature to fall. Lying on the ground, she rolled with her weapon several times around her own axis to evade the angry strikes of her foe. The impacting club was leaving deep holes in the earth, dirt flew up and fell down on her.
»I have pain for you!« The long, slim blade shot beneath the loincloth, drove from the right to the left and the troll gave a shrill call of agony, let his weapon fall and put both hands against his crotch. Blood shot down his legs.
Thangrineth came unto her feet, jumped unto the creature that she had brought to fall and rammed the entire long blade of her weapon into the mighty neck. Instantly the powerful body went limp.
The Elf used the spear-shaft to push herself up, tore the weapon from the neck of the dead and whirled it over her head what conjured up a dark, buzzing sound. Then she grabbed the spear at the end and let her arm shoot forth to drive the blade through the throat of the already wounded enemy. The troll dropped backward.
Thangrineth loosened the mechanism and held upon landing a short spear in her hand. Elegantly she turned around to the last foe. It was the clod-nose, the scolded carrier.
The yellow eyes moved left and right, the shocked look met the many dead and he uttered a pitiful sound: The monster was deathly afraid. It even made several steps backward and pointed the weapon against the Elf to hold her on distance.
Thangrineth laughed evil and used her powers to increase the fear of the troll further. He should suffer. Black wisps came upon the foe, seemed to be breathed in and dyed his face grey.
»Is the little, ugly troll suddenly all alone?«, she purred with mock pity and played with the short-spear. »Come and try to kill me, clod-nose. That was your name, wasn't it?«
The creature turned around and ran off, away from the Dark Elf.
Thangrineth just wanted to pursue him, there it buzzed.
An arrow struck the exact center of the clod-nose's head, a second the neck and a third from behind into the heart. With a last huff he stumbled into the thicket and lay still.
Cadhalor jumped to the ground and closed in on the cage in which it had remained quiet. The prisoner seemed to wait what was going on beyond the blanket and the iron-bars. Enemies of trolls were not always friends.
Thangrineth pulled with some effort the front part of her spear from the corpse, cleaned it on the fur and put the weapon together. »You stole my last foe«, she greeted him reproachful.
»It did not appear like you had planned on killing him. Furthermore did I believe that you tried to be first at the cage.«
»So, that you thought, yes?« Thangrineth removed the blanket with the spear-tip and blurted out an appalled curse. Also Cadhalor showed nothing but abhorrence; he laid an arrow on the bow and drew the string.
They looked down on a very slender, young woman whose clothes were tattered. Beneath the half-long brown hair stood leaf-shaped ears that however had been cut into form and had not grown as that. Her face was also slim, showed scars at the cheekbones and an unnatural, slightly askew form.
Cadhalor knew what they had met: An Obbôna.
The scars certainly derived from a brutal procedure that she had undertaken to make her face slimmer. She had probably cut her skin open, let her cheekbones be broken and taken out the splinters.
The Obbôna looked at them from big green eyes.
»The winds sent us a flesh-thief«, Thangrineth spew out. »I propose, we will let her feel how it is when someone is skinned alive.«
»I propose«, Cadhalor lowered the bow again, »we leave her alive. She knows how to get into the towers.«
»The trolls said that. Who knows whether that is true.«
»You too want to enter the towers?« The Obbôna slid forward in her prison. »It will be an honor to me to lead two exalted Elves!«
»You insult our ears!« Cadhalor shouted at her.
»Forgive«, she called submissive and cowered down.
»Who says that we require her knowledge?«, Thangrineth wondered. »She is only a burden.« She raised the spear and wanted to deal the deadly strike.
»I was a servant of the Galran Unuk«, she replied quickly. »I know every tower, every hallway and also the secret entrance, through which I fled and walked into the arms of the trolls.« She smiled and showed stainless white teeth. »What do you wish to take from him? His life or his treasures? Of the latter he got so many that he thinks about building another tower.«
Cadhalor showed Thangrineth to follow him, then they turned away from the cage. »We should try it with her.«
Thangrineth shook her head, the black hair was swinging with the motion. »Too uncertain. She will lure us into an ambush to kill us and wear our skin.«
»I have seen those towers, Thangrineth. We will not be able to enter without her knowledge.«
»When and where did you see them?«
»Just now, from the tree on which I sat.«
Thangrineth regarded him. »How far?«
»Two miles ...«
»Out of two miles distance you can see that we would not find a way. Your eyes I would like to have. Your faintheartedness however not.« Thangrineth raised her brows, her mouth displayed a mocking smile. »I will look at the towers from the near, after that we think about what we do with the flesh-thief.« For her the conversation had ended. She left Cadhalor standing there and walked past the cage, let the end of her spear rattle against the bars and disappeared in the brushwork.
Cadhalor turned around, looked after the Elf. »I should kill her now«, he muttered. »It would be of more use to me instead of constantly dealing with her attitude.« Sighing he followed her, covered the cage with the blanket, didn't regard the calls of the Obbôna. She could be glad that they had heard the trolls, otherwise he would have taken his revenge upon her already for all the crippled Elves.
Cadhalor stepped into the cave where Thangrineth sat already by the fire. It was her friendly manner of saying she would not continue guard-duty. Cadhalor remained by the entrance, leaned against the rock and observed the surroundings.
Inúr walked up to him and brought him his water-skin that he had left earlier. »Milord, what has happened?«, she asked carefully.
»Did your owner not want to tell you?«
She shook her head.
Quickly he summarized what they had done to the trolls, where he remembered that he had completely forgotten to take a bone from them over the surprise with the Obbôna.
»Flesh-thief«, Inúr repeated and shook herself. »That sounds unpleasant. Why do you call them so?«
»They have but a single aim: To be like the Elves«, he explained and took a long sip from the water-skin. »Long ago they had been allies to our kin, when the old kingdoms of the Ñoldor still stood. They worshipped us and looked up to us in reverie. But the Dark Lord corrupted them and in their growing confusion they began to cripple themselves to make their growth appear like our. Their sick desire let them do things that earned them the eternal hostility of the Elves. The Obbôna did not even halt before hunting our kind and cut off their limps or solitary parts, to sow them unto themselves.«
The slave shuddered, her mouth stood open. She looked horrified. »By the gods!«
»Others were satisfied by covering themselves in dried pieces. Elven skin and hair was the most harmless amongst those. After the Fall of Beleriand and the Dark Lord they were believed to be destroyed. I would not have thought to meet one.«
»That stealing of limbs«, she asked disgusted, »did that ever work?«
»No. That made their deeds even more grotesque. They killed our kin, even though they knew they could never be like us. Not even in parts.« He looked at the slave. »Now go back to your lady.«
»As you wish, milord.« Inúr bowed and walked slowly back to Thangrineth who had observed them.
Shortly before she had reached her, the Elf jumped up, grabbed her harshly by the slave collar and pulled her up to the cave entrance.
»Here!«, she called quick-tempered and hurled the coughing woman before Cadhalor's feet. »I give her to you. As you find such a liking for her.«
»Milady!«, Inúr wheezed shocked and got a kick into her side.
»Silent, you!« Thangrineth glared at her rival. »As I said: She is yours.«
»I do not want her«, Cadhalor answered taken by surprise.
Thangrineth drew with one hand her dagger, with the other she grabbed the woman's hair. »Then it will be the best if I kill her. Then she can tell no one what we ...«
»Fine.« Cadhalor nodded at her. »I take her, before you kill a slave from the tribe Farron that will be useful to us in time.«
»Useful, bah! We have always been victorious against barbarians.« She looked at Inúr. »Do not shame me and serve him better than me. Your eyes have been taken from you already. I would not risk any more parts of your body.« Thangrineth cut her heraldry from the collar. At the free spot, under which free skin could be seen, she cut Cadhalor's symbol. The slave inhaled sharply, while the blade was penetrating her skin and drops of blood came forth. »With that you belong to him.« She returned to the fire and lay down to sleep.
Inúr knelt before Cadhalor's feet, sobbed quietly. She did not cry of pain, that he was perceiving, but because she had lost her owner, the Elf, who she had followed by her own choice into serfdom, into exile from her people. Given away to another, who did not even want her.
»Stand up«, he said softly, far too softly for an order to a woman without rights. Less friendly he repeated: »Up with you!«
Inúr obeyed him.
It was a fascinating sight, how the tears were pearling through the band. In the warm light of the flames, the slave acquired something elvish, a not to be denied attraction, born of melancholy and pain. Cadhalor knew he would not tire to look upon that image and wished, he could hold that moment. But he missed the talent. He was a good carver, not a painter. »Lie down. You can take Sardaï's blanket should you freeze.«
She bowed her head. »As you wish, milord.«
Inúr was about to turn away, there his hand shot forth and opened all three buckles that lay around her throat. Perplexed she stood still.
»Do not forget that you must eat«, he spoke almost fatherly. »Eat and drink. Tomorrow you will wait again, while Thangrineth, the Obbôna and I will take a closer look at the towers.«
»If the Obbôna is still alive then, we will see«, Thangrineth commented from the fire out without turning around. »Some scavengers will take care that the troll corpses will be gone. The cage will need to withstand so some attack.«
As if her words had required proof, all three of them perceived the horrified scream of the Obbôna, followed by the high-pitched screeching of birds and the roar of a predatory beast. It would become a hard, and very long night of survival for the hated flesh-thief. And Cadhalor did not feel a grain of pity.
