Lightning peeled open the sky and thunder boomed across the hellish landscape. Flames from the desperate push of armies lit the night sky as smoke billowed in green and red hues. The warrior, sword and shield raised, blocked the attacks of a dozen or more iron blades that reigned down upon her. The flash of a flaming blue blade eliminated half of the orcish arms that wielded them. Side to side the elves fought as one. With shields booming and blades flashing, the elves struck at the underbellies of the filthy, uncountable masses before them.
Suddenly, silence…
The orcs quailed and ceased their guttural shouts. The captain of the elves lifted her helm with alarm as the mass of orcs before her ceased to flail at her lines. Instead, like a checkered gaming board, backed up almost as one. The only sound roiling across the plain were thousands of breaths taken together as the elves had a brief respite. For many, it would be the last breath taken. Horns sounded a funeral dirge with a cacophonic wail and the ground shook as a new hell stormed ominously through the now open lines the orcs had created.
The Witch King of Angmar with his lieutenants rode forth. Darkness shimmered off their armor like an ominous mirage in a dark desert. He was clad in all black, spiked horns rose above his crown. Only piercing gleaming eyes could be seen beneath his helm. Gigantic and tall, the Witch King loomed over his lieutenants and the army of darkness he commanded. His breath hissed as he spoke.
‘Now is the hour upon which ye shall meet thy doom. This rabble is nothing to me. My dungeons will be filled with the lamentations of your people for daring to oppose me.’
‘Berio ven Eru!’ the elven captain muttered under her breath as the chill frost of the enemy paralyzed her troops. A sudden quivering in her lines told her something needed to be done or all was lost. Suddenly, she laughed, outright! Her laughter was like a white light contending with the darkness before her.
‘Behold this foul carrion of Sauron before us!’ She pointed Varyando, the protector, her curved blade at the Witch King.‘Is Sauron so craven he only has you to send to fight us? Thou art drowned vermin from Numenor. I knew thee when thou were flesh, dog of the darkness.’ She cried. ‘Thou art still the same in spirit! The lieutenants and orcs shivered at the power of the millenia old captain. The light of Valinor undiluted in her firstborn veins.
The Witch King thundered forward. The ground shook as he raised his mace and hurtled it down upon the foe before him. Nimbly she stepped aside. The mace shrieked through the air as the great strength of darkness raised it back up. Swiftly, Varyando, a trail of blue light in its wake sought to undermine the defenses of the Witch King but only found the sleeve of his robe which fluttered to the ground. The fell creature struck again and the captain raised her shield. The mace hammered into it with a tremendous gong. The elf’s feet actually sank into the ground from the force of the blow and her arm ached from the shock but she was unscathed. The Witch King, unbalanced, was vulnerable to the next attack. Varyando struck the shoulder of the dark knight, seeking to cleave through his neck but his armor held and he staggered.
Suddenly the trumpets of the hosts rang through the valley overcoming the rumbles of Orodruin, Mount Doom. Hope filled the lines of the Last Alliance of Middle Earth and combat resumed as they leapt again at the mass of orcs and the lieutenants of the Witch King. Simultaneously without fanfare Sauron himself strode forth.
The elvish captain, her heart quailing cried out.
‘A Elbereth Gilthoniel!’
Distracted, she did not see the blow as the mace of the Witch King struck the side of her helm.
Darkness…
Asmalinde’s eyes snapped open. The sound of the sea and gulls crying filled her ears. As did the perennial sound of elves singing. The half sleep of the elves faded away and she looked out the window upon the Gulf of Lune, Mithlond, The Grey Havens. Fully awake, Asamlinde dressed quickly. She fastened her weapons belt around her waist and slung her shield and satchel on her back. She left her quarters and went in search of Nowe, self named Cirdan the shipwright.
The slender curves of the elven city were bricked in marble and the gracefulness of the elven towers reached the sky. Grey moss hung from the eaves of buildings and the silver and pinks of the trees were welcoming and beautiful. Many elves crossed her path and many greeted her warmly with a wave and a cry of suilad and mae govannen. Others, disturbed by her mystery and wildness stared downward or looked away as she passed. Rounding the curved path that opened up to the harbor, Asmalinde saw a tall, elf standing by one of the jetties He appeared to be waiting for one of the sleek grey-hounded looking ships to make its way in from the Gulf of Lune. He towered over the elves around him. A silver beard was the only indication of his great age hung neatly down to his chest. His silver hair was pulled back behind his head and tied with a golden webbed material laced with tiny coral. His face was unlined and he looked as he did the day he first strode the earth. He was beautiful, and like the others on the council seemed to shine with an ethereal light.
Why the council had sent her here was still a mystery to her. One that would soon be answered.
As she approached Cirdan turned and looked. His eyes opened wide in astonishment at his visitor. ‘Asmalinde, the rumors were true. You have awakened.’ he said in Sindarin.
Asmalinde frowned, ‘I am at a loss my lord Cirdan. Elrond has told me some of my history and that you and I were friends. I am afraid I do not remember.’ she replied sorrowfully. Cirdan sighed and grief appeared in his ageless eyes. He approached Asmalinde slowly and drew her into an embrace. She stiffened but allowed herself to relax and hugged him back, feeling it was important to her old friend. Cirdan pushed her back, hands on her shoulders and looked in her eyes. ‘You truly remember nothing?’ He asked.
‘Asmalinde shook her head. ‘Nothing.’ she said. ‘Some memory returns in flashes or dreams but I cannot place them together.’ She told him of her dream that morning. While I visualize the events it is another person I see in them. I dream of starlight, hosts of elves. I remember the walls of a great city and the horizon. There are times I see flashes of flame and myself falling. But I always wake up and my life does not feel any different.’
‘That is a shame Asmalinde. I was horribly grieved when you fell.’ Cirdan said. ‘The healers worked very hard to keep your spirit from the Halls of Mandos. Too many of us had fallen. After you were struck the Witch King tried to take you away but your company refused to allow it. While Sauron was battling the great captains they died to the last to save you. It was only the dark lord being struck down that prevented your capture. Although you probably would not have lived. And if you had, you would have been tortured and twisted most evilly.’
Cirdan released her and gestured for her to follow beside him as they walked along the piers and jetties of the great shipyard of the elves. Beautifully carved figureheads adorned the front of each. The masts where the great sails were lifted were intricately carved with the elven symbols of hope and of the Valar. ‘You saved so many when Glorfindal was struck down by Gothmog. You were bitter that you could not fight with him but someone had to lead the refugees here. You lost not one. I have missed your council old friend.’ He said as he walked towards a small building at the end of one of the piers.
The structure was cunningly built and was not as small as it seemed. Asmalinde admired the way the building was constructed. It appeared to have no support to the upper layers of it at all. Murals adorned the sides. One was of many beautiful ships surrounding an island. There was no sun or moon. Only bright stars and runes adorned the sky above the ships. Waves curled and the foam of the sea lapped the vessels. The Teleri, she thought. The Teleri before the kinslaying. Elrond had given her some of her history and gratefully she did not take part in what had occurred and therefore had not the guilt of most of the Noldor.
The other mural was of a king in a golden cave. Gold and gems glittered on the walls. The king wore a brilliant necklace with a gem that gleamed brighter than the sun in the middle. Dwarves and elves were bowing before the king. Asmalinde felt a tugging in her memory but the pieces were like shattered glass and clarity would not come. Cirdan said nothing as he led her into the building.
The entryway opened up into a huge room and patio that was opened to the sky. Looking up she saw the sun and bright clouds floating over the great opening. She gasped. ‘This must be beautiful at night with the stars.’
Glancing round she noticed points of reference in the room. ‘My star chamber.’ Cirdan said. ‘Within the confines of this space I can measure the seasons and the solstice. I keep records in almanacs for our sea captains and growers of our food.’ Amalinde touched the runes and her fingers moved over the symbols engraved in the metal. Her face lit up, understanding.
‘The runes are made of mithril!’ She said in awe.
‘Indeed they are.’ He replied. ‘Other than the new homes and markets you see on the hills, Mithlond is the same since I first came here. The dark lord has never fouled this place with his gaze. Nor has any of his minions. We are much like Imladris and the woods of Lorien. We have been under siege but never trod on by the feet of the enemy. The havens are the last refuge of Eriador. If Lorien and Imladris fall, the elves will come here for refuge and to sail home.’
‘I wish I could remember my lord.’ She replied.
‘Asmalinde, do not call my lord. You and I were friends. Comrades in arms. Never feel you should bow to me in any way.’ He said, and placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘Come, let us see to the reason you were sent so many leagues to the havens.’ He led her to a study tucked away down the hall from the star chamber. The open view of the harbor was lovely, especially with the high crags of a cliff behind it with stairs leading to an abode at the top.
Cirdan walked behind a table covered neatly with scrolls and different kinds of correspondence. Not one thing was out of place. No dust covered the chairs, tables or reclining couches. Everything was immaculate despite its great age. All was as new. He reached down and released the latch on a chest covered in mithril runes. An engraving of an ancient elven house symbol adorned the top. One one side was an anvil with a hammer floating over it. On the other side, gems floated above a greatsword and Orion’s bell shone over all. Everything vanished as Cirdan opened the lid. He reached inside with both hands and brought out a platinum case. Reverently he sat the case upon the desk. The runes and sword reappeared when he closed the lid.
He gestured for Asmalinde to sit before him and he sat down in the chair behind the desk. ‘You probably do not remember much of Eregion and its sack and fall. Or of Sauron in the guise of Annatar or the making of the rings of power.’ He said.
Asmalinde nodded. ‘Lord Elrond taught me much when I awakened. It seems I am a living history lesson.’ she said wryly. I have lived events sung in the Hall of Fire and by minstrels everywhere. Yet my name is absent and my thoughts are empty. What I have learned since my awakening stays with me.’
Cirdan smiled, ‘Your sense of humor Asma, has stayed with you at least.’ He said, finally comfortable with using the shortened version of her name. Formality faded and a sense of friendship filled the room.
Before Eregion was sacked. Before Sauron decided he wanted the three rings. One of Celebrimbor’s smiths.’ He searched Asmalinde’s face for a sign of recognition. ‘His name was Aegrod, and was a master jeweller.
‘Aegrod suspected all was not well with Annatar. However, he did not realize he was Sauron in fair guise until the end.’ He grunted in no satisfaction. ‘You do not remember but I was very wary of this being and would not allow him entry into Mithlond but I digress. Aegrod suspected something foul and manufactured something else. He did this without Sauron’s knowledge and without any of the power Sauron used in tainting the three. He sealed it in this case and ere the destruction of Ost-in-Edhil sent it to me with great haste.’ He paused, his fingers traced the case. His forehead wrinkled.
‘The scroll he sent with it was destroyed to remove evidence that any such item might have escaped Sauron’s net.’ He said. Asmalinde stared across the desk and watched the great turmoil of emotions moving across Cirdan’s face. He closed his eyes and continued.
‘I am sorry old friend but I may not reveal to you what is in the case but it is very dear. It was made with great care and for one greater than I.’ He opened his eyes.
Asma stared thoughtfully. ‘I am confused, Cirdan.’ She said. ‘I do not understand any of this.’
‘As well you shouldn’t Asmalinde. None of us on the council, least of all me understood until certain circumstances came together. However, Aegrod’s daughter’s name is Calidis, formerly of Imladris. We hope that she may be able shed light on this and be able to give us the answers.That being said, we would like you to deliver the case to Calidis where she is living in Belfalas on one of the islands.’
Cirdan returned the platinum case to the casket and closed it, setting the latch back into place. Asmalinde replied. ‘Of course, I have been at the council’s service since I left the houses of healing in Imladris. What do you expect of me once I deliver the chest?’
‘We leave that in your hands Asmalinde. It may be that you deliver the item and return to the council. However, we cannot rule out that you may be a part of why this is being sent to Calidis. We shall have to wait and see.’ He said.
Cirdan crossed his fingers in front of his face in a thoughtful pose and looked across at his old friend. ‘I must warn you however. The island of Tol Lochu is inhabited by one Xanderian, known as the Monk of Osgiliath. She is shrouded in some mystery even among our own kind. She seems to have attracted a merry band of humans and elves who live on the island with her, Calidis included. She was once a jeweler in Imladris, trained by her father. She was one of the refugees who fled there after Eregion was put to the flame. We do not know what she has been doing now that she is with Xanderian. I believe one of your former charges lives there as well. Addiela of Rohan.’
Asmalinde smiled at the memory of her safekeeping journey with the young sorceress of Rohan. She had travelled with her from the Haunted Inn to the bridges of Imladris. ‘She was lovely and well educated for an edain. Addiela had much latent power within her she had not discovered.’
‘One other thing Asma.’ Cirdan warned. ‘The sister of Xanderian, Xandilif, so called Banshee, knight of Dol Amroth is another story. She is a mighty warrior but is also mighty uncouth herself. She is brash, insulting and feckless. However, she has done much to hold back the might of Sauron in Gondor. Despite her gruff demeanor and divergent thinking we believe she will cleave to what is needed for the greater good. You are slow to ire which works in your favor as well.’ He chuckled, ‘That and the fact you are mighty as well. You stood with the witch king and survived.’
She frowned when he said the words witch king. Asmalinde touched the side of her head subconsciously as the unfamiliar names were spoken to her. ‘I will do my best, Cirdan. I will leave as soon as I have broken my fast.’ she stood to her feet and picked up the chest Cirdan had slid across the desk to her.
‘Asmalinde’ he said, ‘I do not know if there is any rumor of this.’ He tapped the chest with his finger, ‘But I suggest you travel as if there is. Do not underestimate Sauron, or his spies. We have done that too much in the past and it has cost us much.’
Asmalinde nodded. She tucked the chest under her arm as Cirdan rose from his chair. He put one hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye. Whatever might have been between them was lost to the ages. She turned and walked out of the room.
