Chapter 23: On to Angband

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Over the following days, the Hunters made their preparations, gathered supplies, checked their weapons, and steeled themselves for what they were about to undertake.  They reassured each other that Telemire was yet still alive and that they would find him and bring him back.  But these reassurances always seemed to ring hollow.  To willingly be captured by Angband was not an act of courage, but of stupidity.  All knew that their chances of survival, let alone success, were nil.  They would all die, and they knew it.

All except e'Narmire.  He had become obsessed with finding his formal pupil.  If he knew that he was going to die, he did not show it.  His demeanor had changed.  He no longer showed the reserved and calculating wisdom that was his nature, but rather, he seemed as if he were possessed by some personal demon that could only be exercised by Telemire's salvation.  He had become short-tempered and would not tolerate even the slightest delay, often flying into a rage over the most trivial of matters if it meant he had to wait one more second before departing.

Finally, when everything was ready, the Hunters bid farewell to Curucam.  The Gate-warden, too, knew that he would never see his friends again, but wished them good fortune in their endeavor anyway.  The encouragement was half-hearted, but sincere, and was genuinely appreciated.  Tears rolled down the battle-hardened warrior's cheek as he watched his comrades disappear down the mountain road to the plains below.  He made no attempt to hide them.


The journey was easy going as the Hunters followed the Dwarf Road eastward for the first two days, wishing to avoid any orc patrols that may be skirting the mountains.  When they finally turned north, the Hunters travelled over open ground of low hills and shallow valleys.  Being well into spring, everything was in full bloom and the vibrant colors served to bolster the spirits of the Hunters.  Each had a special appreciation as they knew that this may be the last time they would enjoy such beauty and wonder.

For the first few nights, the Hunters rested easy, posting only a minimal watch.  As the major trade route between Beleriand and their holds in the east, the Naugrim patrolled the Road regularly to keep it open.  When the Enemy began increasing his presence east of the Ered Luin, the Naugrim began increasing their patrols along the Road.  The Hunters, aware of the vigilance of the Naugrim, knew that there was little threat of orcs within two days' march of the Road.

With each passing day, e'Narmire heightened the tempo of the march with an increased pace and fewer, shorter, rest periods.  As they moved north, contact with orc patrols became more frequent.  The Hunters never engaged, but simply moved away and avoided them.  The further north they went, the more often these encounters became, and the more difficult it was to avoid them.  Despite the increasing risk of detection, the Hunters maintained a steady pace and, after nearly a month-long trek, had remained unseen.  They were now well north of where the Iron Mountains joined the Blue.  It was now time to turn back west and cross into Angband.

Moving back to the west required the Hunters to slow their pace, being forced to avoid as many as three or four orc patrols each day.  Shadow-bane, being driven by his determination, began putting the Hunters at greater peril, and with each encounter, the risk of detection became greater than the last.  He would not move away from a patrol to avoid detection, as they had done previously, but would halt and lay low, or circle around to the rear, hoping they would not be seen, and wait until the foul creatures passed.  Often, this would bring orc warriors to within mere steps of the crouching Eldar.

Muscles would tense as hands gripped the hilts of weapons, ready to strike should they be discovered.  But none of the orcs noticed the presence of the Hunters.  It was as if they were distracted.  They were driven by some unknown force or purpose.  For the first time, everyone besides e'Narmire began to think that they might be successful.  They began to believe in e'Narmire.

It took more than four days of the deadly game of hind-and-seek to backtrack to the west and reach the base of the mountains.  Relief came over the Hunters as they could now use the rocky crags to hide from detection.  It was in one of these crags, while avoiding a party of particularly boisterous orcs, that the Hunters found a surprise.

Taurensil was the first to spot them, and not knowing who they were, gave a warning.  The others closed in, ready to quickly dispatch them if they should give an alarm.  It took the ranger a couple of seconds to realize what he saw, but Shaelina was quicker and stayed the ranger's sword.

Crouching and trembling just inside a small hollow in the side of the hill, a young Eldar maiden desperately tried to avoid being seen.  Once she realized her efforts to be futile, she snatched up a rock and prepared to defend herself, and her charge, as best she could.  Lying behind her, propped up against the wall of the cave, was another young Eldar, an adult male, not much older than the maiden, and obviously wounded.

Shaelina held out her hand trying to coax her out of the cave.  She spoke softly to the young maiden, reassuring her that they meant no harm but only wanted to help, but the girl would not budge.  She began cursing at Shaelina, mixing the beautiful language of the Eldar with the vile, guttural snarls of the orcs.  It was the Eldar tongue that Shaelina focused on.  The minstrel began singing a soft lullaby as she moved closer, an inch at a time.

After several tense moments, Shaelina was able to calm the young girl down and take her hand.  Pulling her closer and embracing the girl, Shaelina led her out of the cave.  Seeing the young man still propped against the cave wall, she motioned to Taurensil.  The ranger knelt down beside the Eldar, but knew it was too late.  His wound was too grave, having been nearly disemboweled.

The maiden was emaciated, having eaten very little for several days.  The carcasses of small animals and the dried blood smeared across her face told Taurensil that what she had managed to forage and catch had been eaten raw. Her hands and bare feet were also bloody from cuts and scrapes caused by treading across the rock-strewn mountainside.  Her clothing was in rags, barely covering her body.  She was almost animal-like in her mannerisms and posture and this worried e'Narmire.  She had been subjected to the Torture.  The Enemy had begun to transform her into one of his vile minions.  How much of her true soul that remained was hard to guess.  If she was too far gone, she would have to be destroyed.  But there may also still be a chance to save her.

"What do we do with her?" asked Taurensil. 

"We can't take her with us," added Edelhos, "She will only slow us down."

There was a long pause as everyone thought.  Shaelina could not believe what she was hearing.  "What, exactly, do you suggest we do with her?"

"Same thing we did the last time," suggested Taurensil coolly.  "She has been subjected to the Torture.  She is no longer Eldar."

"We cannot . . ." Shaelina's voice trailed off, remembering what had happened the last time.  She pulled the girl closer to her.

"We must," replied Taurensil sternly.  "It is no longer one of us."  The ranger began to pull his blade from its scabbard as he stepped forward toward the cowering maiden.

"Not yet."  Shadow-bane's voice stayed the ranger's hand.  "She is not entirely orc," he said as he knelt beside the trembling girl and looked into her eyes, "nor is she entirely Eldar."  Shadow-bane reached out to touch her hand, but the maiden shied away, burying her face in Shaelina's shoulder and pulling her tattered cloak over her head.  "It is not her time yet.  She may still prove to be useful."  e'Narmire stroked the girls hair as he continued to study her.  "Then again, she may also prove to be our undoing."