Hellrien ran along the forest path, down the staircase on the cliffside and rushed north along the Way of Kings, towards the tomb. She didn’t know where she had gotten the strength for this final stretch from, and it was possibly the dumbest thing she had ever done. She had not informed the Rangers of her intentions, and she had no way of knowing what would await her in that tomb, or how many tomb-robbers were potentially hiding there. She remembered the lesson Burwod had taught her with the giant – never attack before you know your enemy. Hellrien had not forgotten it, she just had never learned her lesson. Perhaps she never would. The thirst for vengeance was too great, the fear of somebody else killing Ernil too much to bear. Her temples were pounding with exultation, her mouth had retreated into a bestial grin.
Ernil would die by her hand – she would get her retribution!
She ran forward, keeping her eyes fixed on the ornate gambrel roof. Finally she arrived to a spot where a path diverged from the main road between willow trees. It sloped down towards northwest through a channel of water and rose into a small islet, where the tomb stood against the sky.
Hellrien walked slowly past the willows, waded through the channel and sneaked behind a dense bush.
Now she saw the whole building – in all it’s splendor.
The mausoleum had been built of white marble blocks, eroded by time. Wide marble staircase led up to an enormous door facing the Way of Kings.
The mausoleum was quite big, perhaps fifty yards long and about twenty high. Hellrien wondered which of the ancient kings of Arnor was resting here his final rest. She was sure such things had been taught to her in the Sworn Brotherhood Stronghold during one of the history lessons, but she couldn’t recall it now.
Sun beamed it’s shine on the grass. Some of the blades were beginning to straighten already. Hellrien stood there, staring at the tracks on the grass, moistened by the morning dew.
Two sets of footprints! Leading towards the stairs.
Did she hear voices? She dashed the remaining fifteen yards to the gable of the tomb and peaked around the corner. She saw a cart there, and two horses harnessed before it. Some luggage had been strapped behind the drover’s seat.
Hellrien turned, walked over to the stairs and climbed them. Now she could hear the talking voices clearly. They sounded like they were coming from a temple. The acoustics inside the tomb, Hellrien thought. Cautiously she sneaked over to the enormous door. It had been left ajar. The interior looked dark, looking from the outside in.
Hellrien heard the voices ever more clearly now.
Ernil’s voice.
Gradually Hellrien’s eyes adjusted to the dim light from inside. She slipped into the tomb, walking on tiptoes to avoid making any kind of noise on the hard marble floor. She could discern obscure movement from ahead and hid behind a column.
She took one side step and peaked.
The sight was incredible!
Massive fire bowls illuminated a huge round hall, almost fifty yards in diameter. Above there was a gently arching ceiling: a beautiful, divine sight with it’s red-veined marble surface.
In the middle of the room stood a huge altar and on the altar an extraordinarily huge monument of an ancient king, reaching for the sky with his hand.
Two figures were standing on the dais next to the altar, straight ahead from the column Hellrien was hiding behind.
Ernil and Avice.
The man was just putting something in a leather satchel. Hellrien craned her neck to see better. Ernil was picking up things from a hole on the floor! A flat shining stone slab was leaning against the altar. A treasure chamber!
And now Hellrien could see what was in there: jewelry, rings, brooches, pearl necklaces, nephrite stone objects, daggers with silver handles and black sheaths of an unknown metal; beautifully adorned fans carved from the same strange metal, and golden caskets adorned with jewel insets, pearls… piles and piles of immeasurable riches.
Hellrien could hardly take her eyes off these treasures. Her thoughts went back in time to that ancient, magnificent civilization that had produced all these breathtakingly beautiful artefacts.
On the dais next to them there stood three crates, already packed. Ernil was just packing away the rest of his treasures.
Hellrien looked at the woman. She was standing with her back towards Hellrien, wearing nephrite green velvet garb. She was just saying something as she turned halfway around. Her words echoed in the chamber.
”…of course I will marry you, Percy!”
Ernil raised his head and laughed. His red hair seemed to fade against the marble background. His face looked like a white, obscure splotch to Hellrien. Something was about to erupt inside her – something violent and hungry. Her eyes narrowed into shining streaks – then she stepped forth from behind the marble column and yelled.
Avice froze still.
Ernil stood up slowly and turned towards the dark figure standing ten or twelve yards away, holding a war hammer and a spear in her hands.
Ernil grinned. The black hole in the middle of the once shining rows of teeth looked repulsive.
”Mae carnen, Miss Hellrien – my congratulations on a new splendid surprise appearance! Don’t you ever get tired of appearing in the most inappropriate times?”
Avice lifted both of her hands in front of her mouth. Hellrien saw her chewing on her fingernails.
”Avice”, she said hoarsely.
”Shut up!” Avice screamed – suddenly furious. ”I thought you died… why couldn’t you just stay dead?”
Ernil’s shoulders rose a little. Hellrien saw the masterfully crafted Dúnedain greatsword he was carrying under his light, white cloak. She focused all her attention onto him. He knew he had to settle things with Hellrien once and for all.
Hellrien could hear her own heart beating in her ears like thunder. She counted the heartbeats automatically. The warhammer and the spear were a poor match against a greatsword.
One – two – three…
Ernil drew his sword. Hellrien climbed the steps to the dais and the two began to circle each other, looking for weaknesses in each other’s defenses. Ernil attacked.
Hellrien had never before performed a movement so fast, so masterful. It was almost as if an external force was working through her – spear and hammer flashed through the air, faster than a thought.
Ernil’s sword slipped from his grip and flew in an arc and clanged on the marble floor far away. He stared at Hellrien in disbelief.
”Who in the name of Sauron are you?” he whispered. The words echoed in the chamber. ”Who are you?” he repeated – and again, in a desperate snivel: ”Who are you – you wraith!”
”My name is Hellrien.”
”Hellrien?” Ernil yelled. ”Hellrien – and who the hell is that?” His voice was now maniacal – there was a furious glint in his eyes, and his mouth was frothing.
”Nobody”, said Hellrien quietly. ”Nobody at all. It’s over.”
Ernil’s eyes gleamed like arrowheads. He inched towards the altar. His eyes glanced at something on it, and Hellrien followed his look. One of the tiles was lighter in color than the others. Suddenly Hellrien remembered her adventures in Agamaur – all the elaborate traps they had encountered retrieving the artefacts for Dorvairse’s family crest.
”Stop!” Hellrien screamed, but before the echo had answered, Ernil had punched his palm on the tile.
There was a rumbling sound, like a thunder. The whole tomb quaked. Ernil began to laugh maniacally. Suddenly there was an enormous crack and a great big boulder came down from the ceiling. It crushed Ernil and Avice under it – blood and pieces of jewelry splurged around, glimmering angrily in the light of the fire bowls.
A deafening thunder – and the ceiling seemed to jump on it's columns. The columns lurched… and big blocks of the ceiling began falling down on the floor, raising mighty clouds of dust…
Hellrien came to and found herself lying amongst shards of marble and dust. She began to cough – blood streamed from her mouth and nose, and there was intolerable pressure on her chest and back. She moaned quietly and began crawling from beneath the shambles. It took it's time, she couldn’t move very fast.
Big chunks of the ceiling kept raining down, falling on the floor with thundering rumble and created new clouds of dust and shards.
Hellrien crawled towards the erratic hole where the hallway had been. Dust was choking her to death. She saw blood dripping from her mouth on the floor. The blood was almost black: my ribs are broken, she thought dully. Her fingernails broke against the floor. Inch by inch she kept crawling ahead. Suddenly she remembered what she hadn't remembered before: she was in Eärendur’s tomb.
I will be buried with the last king of Arnor.
Another column broke with a crash. A torrent of shards rained on her. One sharp rock tore a wound to her scalp. Blood streamed into her eyes, blinding her. The rest of the ceiling broke. Hellrien turned her head. She knew it would crash down any moment now. She let her muscles relax – she could take no more. She just wanted to die.
She heard voices calling her name, or maybe it was just her imagination. Everything seemed to be so far away now. She rolled to her back. A big crack had appeared on the ceiling above her. She closed her eyes and smiled. Sleep would come so easily now.
It was so easy to just let go. It felt so good to finally rest.
