In the Great Hall the retinue gathered around the big command table, laden with maps and strategic plans. On the table there were also the fragments Hellrien had found in the Lone-Lands and Archet. Ordmir called for Ranesora, Jorgon and Jarlor, and a short while later they appeared from the doorway to the mess hall: grey and sickly, Ranesora was still too stubborn to accept help or show any outward signs of weakness, loudly arguing with Jorgon, his son, who looked like a younger version of his father. They were followed by an intimidating figure of the Beorning regent Jarlor Esketh, a head taller than Jorgon and Ranesora, and twice as wide.
”What happened, old man? Shot yourself in the foot?” Aaverie asked in a sarcastic tone. Ranesora ignored her and growled:
”Must we do this now? Is everyone really in such a haste to get themselves killed?”
”Quit your squabbling, both of you, and allow me to speak”, Ordmir interrupted. ”To those of you who don't know me, I am Ordmir Ordthrain, father of your leader Dorvairse Ordthrain. I have traveled here from Gondor to help you find your leader, my son.”
The old man looked Hellrien evenly in the eyes. ”Hellrien, I have heard a lot about you. Thank you for putting Dorvairse's life before your own to find these relics.” Ordmir bent over the table and started putting the relics together, until they formed a crest-like image on the ancient, white stone.
”What you see here are the three fragments of the First Heirloom of my family - the Crest of House Ordthrain, forged in Númenor in the late Second Age, just before the massacre of Elenna, by my late grandfather, Orthric.”
Ordmir grasped the crest and slowly turned it over, revealing a detailed map carved on it's back. ”Etched to the stone you can see a map showing the way to the ancient Ordthrain Stronghold and Fortress, where lie the bones of many of my ancestors and their treasures, along with many more heirlooms. We have kept it a closely guarded secret for many centuries that our House is in fact directly descended from Elros, the First King of Númenor. In other words the same blood as Isildur's heir runs in our veins.” Ordmir paused for a dramatic moment, letting it sink in. ”This is why King Elendil requested our fortress to be kept a secret when he gave our House the workers to build it in the mountains of Gondor. Any questions before I continue?”
”Have you ever visited the stronghold?” Aaverie asked.
”Everyone of the House Ordthrain has been there”, Ordmir said.
”Except me”, muttered Burwod, crossing his arms.
”And you suspect Dorv might be there?” Aaverie pressed on. ”Couldn't you just lead us there?”
”My old body has become too weary and fragile for journeys such as this. I will remain here until the end of my days, and hopefully be buried with my ancestors in the Ordthrain Stronghold when my days are outnumbered. Are the assassins still after our groups?”
”I would say so”, Ranesora cut in in a grating voice.
Ordmir nodded. ”We need to eliminate their threat first, then proceed with finding Dorvairse. I believe we will be safe here for now, as long as we stay within the Stronghold.”
”What about me?” Hellrien piped in. ”Can I do anything? Do you still think I require more training, Bur?”
Ranesora snorted. ”Child, you need many years more training! Had Burwod not been in Archet when he did, you would have gotten us both killed.”
”Hey!” Hellrien protested. ”How come I'm to blame for everything? I did what I could, and retrieved the artefacts, didn't I?”
Fidgit chuckled and produced an apple from a pocket in his cloak, taking a large bite from the side. It made a startlingly loud sound, echoing from the walls of the Great Hall. ”I missed supper”, he explained under Burwod's disapproving glare.
”Hellrien, would you please show Fidgit to the mess?” Burwod said.
”If they got attacked, how can you be sure they don't know where we are now?” Aaverie pressed on.
”This place is only known to the members of our Order”, Burwod tried to assure.
”I'm afraid this is not the case anymore”, Ordmir countered gloomily. Hellrien couldn't hear what was said after that as he lead Fidgit to the mess hall. Fidgit spooned a plate full of pork stew and Hellrien took advantage of the opportunity to have a bite of something herself. They ate in silence. When they were finished, Hellrien winked at the little hobbit.
”Check out the keg too, it's good stuff there!”
They both filled tankards with the strong, soupy, dark brew from the keg and chugged it down, as fast as they could.
When they returned to the Great Hall, Hellrien sensed that something bad must have happened as Ordmir looked like somebody had just punched him in the belly.
”I have just received some very dire news”, Ordmir began quietly. ”Something much more dangerous than a mere band of assassins is arriving this hour. Korgaano will be too late to help us.”
Aaverie smirked at the news. It was hard to tell what she was thinking.
”A man from Mordor is coming”, Ordmir said, pale as a ghost. ”None of us here, nothing in this Stronghold is powerful enough to stop him. There are only two who could, and neither are here.”
”My... mother...?” Burwod stammered. Ordmir nodded.
”This man is a powerful sorceror”, he continued. ”I suggest no one will try to engage him. He is the one behind the assassins. He's followed by four hundred men, all cloaked in magic so the dwarves have not seen their approach.”
”I guess we should get ready to give them a warm welcome, then”, Burwod said grimly.
”We do not have enough manpower to defend against a force of four hundred. There is only one thing we can do. We must hold. Hold, until either Korgaano or Haschirgael arrives. They are both on their way here, but I don't know if they will be on time. We don't have much time left. We must shore up our defenses. We must gather all our arrows, quivers, swords, shields, everything we've got - and be ready to fight for our dear lives. Go! Raise our defenses! I will direct from the outside. Out! Make haste!”
Hellrien walked slowly across the yard. It was always dark in these caverns mined inside the Blue Mountains. The sun never shined down here, so it was easy to lose sense of time. She looked at the sturdy barricades and the hustle and bustle of soldiers. Aaverie was loading quivers with arrows. Burwod dragged another crate full of arrows from a depot. Ordmir sat on his knees, counting the arrows. One... two... twenty... fifty! He stood up and started walking towards another barricade.
”Hellrien! Light the braziers!”
Hellrien picked up a torch and walked from brazier to brazier, lighting them up. Burwod dropped another crate behind another barricade. Ordmir was unloading swords and banners. Burwod grabbed a barrel full of spears and dragged it across the yard. Ranesora and Jorgon appeared from somewhere, carrying loads of military equipment. Jorgon planted himself near a barricade, immobile like a piece of equipment himself. Ranesora leaned against a wall near the door he had come from, waiting. Jarlor, the gigantic Beorning, stood silently near the open gateway. Waiting for their visitors to arrive.
A checkered cat was licking it's paws, staring at Hellrien with it's yellow eyes. Cats... they could make their home anywhere. It stretched entreatingly, then darted across the yard and disappeared into the shadows.
Hellrien lit her pipe, pulled smoke inside her lungs and allowed it to puff out of her nose. Time seemed to stand still. Hellrien's nerves relaxed and she was ready for a fight.
”Hellrien?”
”Yes, Bur?”
”Stay by my side.”
”Alright.”
”Child of my blood!” Ordmir's yell echoed from the cavern walls. ”I will go scouting to see how close they are!”
The old man jumped on his horse, amazingly agile feat for someone his age, and rode out of the gateway.
”Fidgit, take the right side!” Burwod commanded, staring into the darkness. Time stood still. Smoke was slowly billowing out of Hellrien's pipe. She had lost her sense of time. She leaned over the barricade, her bow in one hand, an arrow in another. Suddenly she was startled by a movement from a corner of her eye. There was a thin squeak and the cat jumped in front of the barricade. A mouse was struggling in it's teeth, it's shrill squeaks sounded horrible inside a stronghold inside a mountain cavern.
A cat and a mouse, Hellrien thought - was it a bad omen?
