This is a small story depicting events before Hwethlenn returned to the Mithdirith.
Belfalas, 130 miles south of Dol Amroth, Late Third Age
Hardly to be made out by the mere eye, a shape approached from the horizon, sometimes vanishing for a heart-beat among the waves of the great sea. And when one would expect to catch it again, it was gone. And yet the ship was there.
The fluently formed bow made from Mallorn wood cut seamlessly through the water, parted the waves without reducing its breath-taking speed. Hull and stern made a perfect transition with but a fine curve upwards where wooden beams suspended light-blue sails over the ocean's surface and led them to the mast. The wind pressed with all its power against the fabric granting the vessel such velocity.
The silver-white color of the planks, adorned with blue adornments on the hull made the Gondolin practically invisible on the open water and against the horizon. The ship sailed under the flag of Mithlond.
Maethor Thannor required no spyglass to see what lay between the heights that the waves could reach. He squinted his eyes against the sun that threw a shine on his golden hair and let it stand out against the eagle crested mariner uniform. He held himself at a rope that led up the mast. The leaf-shaped form of his ears indicated that his sharp sight was no mortal feature.
»Anything?«, came the inquisitorially shout from beneath him.
»Nothing«, Thannor called back. With an astounding nimbleness he slipped down on the ground, until he felt the white planks of the Gondolin beneath his feet. »We have been sailing along this part of the bay for nigh three weeks now and found no sign of the Corsairs at all.«
The first mate Barhador gave his friend an encouraging slap unto the shoulder, before returning back to the rudder. »We will float on about then until the lords in Mithlond are satisfied. Gondorian mariners reported many fisher and merchants going missing around here.«
»Probably fallen victim to storms or the southern drift.« Thannor walked up to the railing, observed the other crew-members as they scurried about the deck or disappeared below, climbed up to the sails to make adjustments or to look out themselves. They were twenty-five able Elves on this frigate. All of them experienced mariners that had been chosen to go against the Corsairs of Umbar. The Gondolin would make an explicit example for the other ships. Easily it could ambush hostile vessels or close in to attack and then speed out of range quicker than the enemy could follow.
»Do not misunderstand me«, Thannor said after a moment. »I am not keen to cross swords with the Corsairs in every moment possible, I would be infact glad if we didn't find anything.«
Barhador had set his gaze on his friend. »But you think we are wasting our time.«
»Aye, that I do.«
Silence followed these words. Barhador could understand what moved Thannor.
He had lived and was born in Edhellond that was now in enemy hands. The force there was too great as that the Elves alone could attack and the Gondorians were pressed themselves.
The crew of the Gondolin was part of the fleet that should put that situation to an end. By reducing or even removing the pressure laid on the gondorian naval forces, the Elves and Man could form a single fleet to not only liberate Edhellond, but to launch a strike against Umbar itself.
But that lay far in the future. A future that was not even certain to exist.
»Cruiser starboard!«, a shout came suddenly from the crow's nest. »They seem to have spotted us!«
Thannor could not believe what he heard. He turned and ran up to the side of the ship, looked where the lookout had reported the sighting. Indeed, the black form of an umbarian cruiser was set clearly only half a mile away from them. Where did it come from? »Impossible! No mortal eye can spot us against the sky.«
The whistle that cut through the air should prove the Maethor wrong. Under thousandfold splintering and crashing, a volley of enormous javelins pierced the hull on its mid-height, punched through the light wood; others hit the reinforced front and splintered. Though even these small parts caused damage among the crew. Struck Elves fell to the deck, most of the personnel managed to get behind cover.
Before Thannor could give orders, the second volley rained down on them, and this time it brought flaming arrows.
»Put these fires out or we signal our position to them like a bonfire!«, Barhador's call erupted over the Gondolin. »Thannor, go and get the Callon!«
The Maethor wasted no moment. He already heard the order to prepare a counter-attack and the buzzing of the next volley of flaming arrows on his run to the door that would lead him below deck. His feet trampled down on the stairs that brought him to the heart of the ship. On his way he passed those of the crew that rushed up, armed with swords and high towering shields.
Small fires had spread here and there, but the true problem was the stern. It was set ablaze. Through the smoke and the day-light that fell into the hole in the hull and into the room, Thannor made out the uniform of the Callon.
»Glingaeril!«, he shouted and had to jump out of the way, otherwise an Elf with a bucket of water would have run into him.
Around turned an Elven maiden. The black hair was only slightly to be seen beneath the helmet. Green eyes looked at him like a pair of emeralds. »Is Barhador holding his position?«, Hwethlenn Glingaeril asked him, without awaiting a report. She knew the situation at hand.
»Aye, Callon. It may be the safest course if we would prepare the rescue boats.«
»We need everyone's hand on maneuvering the Gondolin and firing precise shots«, the Callon objected, grabbed another bucket and emptied it over the flames to douse them. Immediately grey steam rose up, made it even harder to breathe.
»But Callon, what if we loose ...«
Hwethlenn shot around, frowning. »There's no time to debate. I need everyone at their sharpest. Tell Barhador to get us out of the smoke and into charging position. Now, go!«
Another volley of javelins shot straight through the room, nailed an unlucky Elf against the wall. Thannor and Hwethlenn were just able to get behind the mast that was leading through the entire ship. »That's an order!«
The Maethor had hardly vanished, there Hwethlenn how the Gondolin moved below her feet, took up on speed and leaned portside to evade the next blow of the enemy. The waves that were shattering against the intact wall of the hull were evidence to the risk of such a sudden and quick maneuver.
As soon as the remaining crew had managed to bring the fire under control, Hwethlenn lost no further moment. Quickly her feet brought her through the Gondolin and up on deck. The enemy ship lay now further away from them. They were out of firing range.
»Sail around them and present them our portside. Every ballista must be armed and ready to fire on my command«, she called out.
»Aye, aye, Callon!«, Barhador answered her and nodded. They were lucky to have him. Hwethlenn knew no other Elf who could make a ship of this size sail like this. It almost seemed as Barhador had known no other ground beneath his feet but the planks of an elvish frigate.
Now he let the rudder turn, while Thannor coordinated the counter-attack.
The smoke was gone, the wind blew in their favor. They would meld into the waves and suddenly come out from the very void in a thirty-degree angle behind the enemy.
Hwethlenn took up position next to Barhador. Already was the Gondolin set on course and cutting through the waves.
Five-hundred steps parted them from the umbarian cruiser. They could make out the black flag and the men that ran up and down the length of the ship, having donned tattered armor and no uniform at all. Heavy plating on the cruiser's hull made it hard to maneuver and sail, but also almost impenetrable. The corsairs spotted them as they had closed in on three-hundred steps. Turmoil broke out aboard.
»Hold your course. Engage the enemy on my command.«
»The ballistae await your sign, Glingaeril«, Thannor called out in response and raised a arm as sign that all Elves should be ready.
Two-hundred steps.
The cruiser began to turn. Creaking and groaning the metal was pressed against the wooden hull in a struggle of the ocean's power and that of the vessel. A single shot of this ship with its catapult could destroy a frigate like the Gondolin easily. If it managed to actually strike the nimble vessel.
One-hundred steps.
»Attack!«
The ballistae were fired with an almost ear-deafening impact of string and wood that accelerated the javelins to tremendous speed. They cut through the air faster than the projectiles of the Corsairs; their tips reinforced by the finest elvish steel.
Those who were unlucky to stand in their path were perforated or hammered against the planks of the own ship. Many struck the cruiser but only few managed to pierce the metal skin. All what the Gondolin had inflicted were puncture holes.
»Keep firing«, Hwethlenn ordered and turned to her first mate. »Bring us on distance, Barhador and then keep the pressure on. Do not let them turn their broadside against us.«
Quickly the Gondolin altered its course to sail past the cruiser and out of its reach. Flaming arrows that were fired into their direction were either vanishing sizzling in the sea or deflected by the high shields of the crew. The tide seemed to turn.
Until the next moment.
A roar as if the sky itself would have broken apart flew across the ocean and a stream of fire hailed down on the elvish vessel.
The bow was instantly lit aflame, planks were ripped off, the mast threatened to shatter under the impact of the projectile that the cruiser had fired. Screams of men mixed into the devastation.
»I cannot direct her any longer«, Barhador called over the storm that was now raging. His knuckles turned white as he tried to steer the rudder. »Callon, we must abandon the ship!«
»No! Set course for the open sea! We can still save the Gondolin!«
»Do not be foolish, Glingaeril!«, Thannor held against the order from below. His uniform seemed scorched, but the Elf unharmed. »The ship is lost. Going down with it will not change that.«
Hwethlenn's eyes roamed over the blazed deck. How could have anyone expected that from a cruiser of the corsair. Never before had they encountered a ship that could fire flaming projectiles of that size on such a distance.
»Board the lifeboats and get the crew to safety«, Hwethlenn gave order finally. It hurt her to speak these words. The Gondolin was a magnificent vessel and to loose her meant accepting a great rift dealt to the naval forces. »You, too, Barhador. I will take over the rudder.«
»Forgive me the insubordination, Callon but I choose to ignore that order. We are in this together.«
Instead of arguing with her first mate, Hwethlenn grabbed the rudder, helped the Elf to stir the ship away from the enemy cruiser. They had to buy the crew more time.
The first boats were already set down on the waves.
Then a second eruption followed from the Corsairs. The mast of the elvish ship was shattered, splinters flew against Barhador and Hwethlenn, tore them off their feet.
Lifted into the air, Hwethlenn knew not where was up and down, until she hit the surface of the ocean. The impact with the water was like landing on glass, robbed her lungs off the air before the waves came crushing over her.
A dull roar met her ears as the Gondolin broke into half.
The vision of the young Callon faltered. Slowly she drifted out of consciousness.
