The party moved southwest, cutting a diagonal path through the woods instead of venturing straight out to the Sirion. Some complained about doing this, but it meant that they would not emerge from the woods until nightfall, which would give them the aid of night’s cover to gather water and perhaps even bath or wash some of the clothing and bedding. The army was much less regimented now and moved more as a wandering caravan than a group of well-trained warriors.
Ecthelion did what he could to boost the morale by keeping the flutes of the House of the Fountain heard, though of his original army less than one hundred fifty remained and the music was thin. The pace was slowed by those who were injured, kept at the center of the group in case of an attack. Rog had disagreed regarding this idea, believing that the injured should be made to walk at the back and those who could not keep pace should not be waited for. Turgon overruled the idea, and noted that among those of Rog’s army, there were few injuries to those who remained and none so horrible to require a healer’s care.
When they did reach the river, sections were marked off for specific functions. Bathing and washing were to occur downstream near some piles of boulders and low caves that were positioned offshore and would have provided for sunbathing had it been daytime. Cooking and drinking were assigned to where the water was the clearest, and where flat ground nearby could allow for fires to be built. Somewhere between these the horses were led to drink, and the cats who had managed to remain since the start hunched down and lapped at their reflections.
A rotation was designed to keep the flow of people organized. Two battalions would refill their waterskins and get water for cooking while two quickly bathed. The others would stay ashore and keep watch, though camp was not to be set up. After everyone had made it through both stations, there would be time for the last group to finish eating and then they would move again. The entire process was to take two hours at most, and Turgon was nervous every minute of it.
The houses of Duilin and Glorfindel were assigned together. Once all of their soldiers were in the water, their lords joined them. Glorfindel waited until Duilin’s hair was full of suds to use the opportunity to interrogate him. “Alright, what is going on between Rog and Erestor?”
“What?” Duilin pretended his ears were full of water and caused him not to be able to hear the question.
Glorfindel lathered up his own hair, which was proving to be quite a chore. He chose a try a different technique, and lowered his voice so that he could not be heard by anyone but Duilin. “Talk about a perfect view. A thousand hard-bodied soldiers, with thick, strong muscles. Just look at them, dripping wet, skin slick...” When Glorfindel looked to see Duilin looking down at the water impassively, he said as seductively as he knew how, “If I dropped this right now and had to bend over to retrieve it, I think it might excite someone. I bet that might surprise a few people.” He looked at Duilin’s shaft and smiled when it twitched.
He let his fingers slide away from the soap he was holding, but Duilin grabbed for it and caught it before it hit the water. “You win,” he said, handing the soap back. Duilin sat down in the water, affected though Glorfindel did not entirely carry through with his threat. Glorfindel did the same, settling on the rocks next to Duilin. “All I know is that early this morning after you left the healing tent, Erestor came out in a rage. He was shoving Ecthelion’s shoulders around and when I managed to stop him briefly, he slapped me. I shoved him back, though, so Turgon told me he and I have to sort that ourselves. As far as I am concerned, we were both having a bad day and it is water under the bridge now. I have no idea what he said to Rog, but I did overhear Rog talking to Ecthelion about whether Ecthelion had ever seen Erestor abuse Aranel.”
“What? That is ridiculous! Erestor would never do something like that,” defended Glorfindel. “Rog should have come to see me about that – Ecthelion does not know Erestor as well as I do.”
“Maybe Rog thought you would lie for Erestor if you had to,” suggested Duilin.
“I have no reason to lie about it. Erestor is very chivalrous when it comes to ellyth.” Glorfindel began to design in his mind a list of the top reasons why Erestor was such a respectable elf so that he could confront Rog with it later. As he sat thinking on this, he started to wash the soap from his hair and panicked when he reached around and found less than he had remembered there being.
Next to him, Duilin was noticing the same thing. “Damn, Glorfindel... you are shedding all over.” The two of them stood up amid matted chunks and errant shorter strands of gold that were washing past them now. “Turn around and sit down again.”
Glorfindel numbly did so, and felt Duilin untangling his hair as he mumbled ‘shit’ a lot. “The good news is, some of it still almost reaches your butt. The bad news would be that most of it is breaking off higher up. Were you fighting any of those balrogs?”
“I might have made the acquaintance of one,” mumbled Glorfindel.
“I think it toasted your hair.” Duilin pulled away another singed clump and tossed it aside where Glorfindel could not see it. “I saw Ecthelion’s soldiers were fighting those beasts, and some of them were burned to death. When we get back someone will need to fix this for you. It seems like the rest will at least stay intact until then.”
With their allotted time drawing to a close, Glorfindel and Duilin hurried to finish and herd their soldiers from the water. As they walked to the shore, Duilin came up just behind Glorfindel and said in a low voice, “Just to be sure, if you ever threaten to drop this again I will not stop you and then we might both get a little surprise from it.” Duilin put what was left of the soap into Glorfindel’s hand and winked at him before stepping ashore.
As Glorfindel’s feet moved over the sand, he passed by Erestor, for the next groups to use the bathing area were Rog’s and Galdor’s. “Holy shit,” was all Erestor said in greeting.
“Fucking balrog,” replied Glorfindel as he followed the others in search of linens that were not entirely drenched.
While taking his turn in the water, Erestor kept his distance from everyone else, especially Rog. When Laiqalasse splashed his way over and tried to engage Erestor in conversation, Erestor smiled politely and did little more than nod.
After five minutes of more or less talking to himself, Laiqalasse dipped down under the water and stood up to shake off. He stepped in front of Erestor and placed his hand on the older elf’s shoulder. “If you want to talk about anything, I want you to know that I am willing to listen. I will be praying for you,” he added before he headed for the shore.
Erestor opened his mouth and almost called Laiqalasse back, but he caught sight of something in the sky. At first he thought it to be a fallen star, but the glimmer dipped down before shooting back up again. “Laiqalasse!”
The Sinda turned around and started to walk back, but Erestor instead pointed toward the sky. “What do you make of that?”
Laiqalasse scanned the night sky and was about to question what Erestor had thought he had seen when he focused on something approaching fast. “It looks like a bal—no, wait. A wyrm, and he is moving fast!” Laiqalasse ran directly to Turgon while Erestor dove into the water and swam to where Rog and Galdor were holding a conversation in order to alert them.
Not far away, Glorfindel and Duilin joined Galdereth, Mirdirin, and Egalmoth, who were gathered around one of the many small fires that had been started. It proved a quicker way to dry off than finding a towel to dry off with would be. Galdereth was in the midst of one of the many stories he often entertained with. “So, then the head cook came over, because nothing was coming out of the kitchen. Well, Nellothien, she was the pastry chef, she knew she was going to have a lot of people who were going to want dessert. So she decided to make all of these little cakes ahead of time so that she would just have to pour the topping on them when it got to that point. She wanted to get out as fast as she could. Well, the same dishes that she was using for those were the ones that were supposed to be used for the—“
“Dragon!” someone shouted as they ran past.
“—dragon that... no, that is not right, who would want to eat dragon?” Galdereth looked for the soldier who had interrupted him, but instead saw the beast that was closing in on them. “Oh, shit!”
The group scrambled to their feet and ran toward their respective areas. Chaos ensued as elf ran from the water and across the temporary encampment in every which way. Half of them were caught undressed, which meant not only finding their clothing, but getting back into armor as well.
As all of this was going on, a volley of arrows came at them from the forest. The ill prepared soldiers scattered, some of them hit as they ran. There was panic among the horses and if not for quick thinking on the part of Erestor to begin calling for them to be mounted and repositioned many of them would have been hit and perished in the second round of arrows. Out of the forest charged a group of snarling orcs. They waved swords above their heads and squealed in delight as they reached the elves and started to hack through the camp.
Erestor had managed to gather a good number of Glorfindel’s cavalry around him. It was against protocols, but at the current time with everyone scattered and no one taking charge, he did what he had to do. “Cavalry! Ready your weapons! Aim for the front of their line! Fire!”
Now the elven arrows shot back and gave those on the ground the chance to regroup while the orcs turned their attention on the riders. While most of the cavalry continued to use bows, Erestor led a small group of them around the camp and with them charged the orcs from the side. “Swords!” he shouted, and those who had them drew out their sabers and sliced through the orcs while their horses trampled the hideous creatures.
“Take them all! Bring them all down!” shouted Turgon as Erestor and the others came around. Two elves and one horse had gone down during the first pass. Turgon leaped onto the free horse and came through with them on the second pass. Riding beside one another Turgon and Erestor plowed their way into the orcs, who were more ready this time than they had been. It did not help the orcs much, for the might of Turgon in battle was great and the death of his brother still forward in his mind.
The plans of the orcs were soon to be foiled and they attempted to escape back into the wood. Turgon took charge of the cavalry he was riding with and led them to chase down the orcs who ran. The remaining cavalry closed in at the front while those still on the ground finished putting on armor or gathering weapons and began to plan how to deal with the dragon that was almost upon them.
From the forest, Turgon, Erestor, and three other elves still on horseback burst forward and rode hard to make it back to the encampment. “There is a second wave in the woods!” shouted Turgon to Penlodh as he slowed his mount and slipped off. Turgon held his left arm close to his body. The leg of his pants and his sleeve were soaked in his own blood. “Take your men in and destroy them! We cannot let a single one return to Morgoth with the news of our position! Find Galdor, and have him send scouts into the trees with slings and arrows.”
“Aye, sir!” Penlodh began to bark orders as he left the area.
Erestor pulled on the reins of his horse and looked down at where Turgon stood. “Your orders?”
“Keep the horses here until we know the situation in the forest. Fire at the orcs, and keep the horses scattered!”
“Sir!” Erestor tugged Dragonsong back around to join in the battle once more, carrying Turgon’s orders with him.
On the ground, Glorfindel was fighting hard against the oncoming tide. His sword was broken by a mace, but he fought on with the short shard that was still attached to the hilt. It meant fighting closer than he liked, and taking a few extra cuts and scrapes. When he saw a horse stagger out of the woods, he shoved and slashed his way to her and climbed onto her back. He had to fight off two orcs who started to hiss and claw their way up her haunches, but eventually he managed to make it back behind the elven line.
“What are you doing without a weapon?” called out a familiar voice. Glorfindel looked up and saw Turgon nearby.
“I lost my sword in the battle!” he shouted to Turgon as his horse trotted up beside one that Turgon was sitting upon.
“Here; use mine.” Turgon moved his arm out of the way so that Glorfindel could reach across him and pull Glamdring out of the sheath. As he did so, Glorfindel saw that Turgon’s arm was hastily wrapped but bleeding through the wrappings. As this was taking place, Erestor charged the horses against the orcs again, which made Turgon stall Glorfindel. “I told him to hold those horses back! Get over there and show him how to follow orders!”
“Yes, sir.” Glorfindel rode along the shoreline of the Sirion and came up behind Erestor. “Erestor! Pull back!”
“If we pull back, we will not be done with the orcs before the dragon gets here! We can only fight one enemy at a time, or we shall have our backs at one of them!”
“Erestor, these are Turgon’s orders! Pull back!” Glorfindel turned away from Erestor, and began to shout to the rest of the cavalry, most of which were his soldiers. “Pull back! Let the infantry through on this end!” Glorfindel managed to round up the riders and draw them back to the river. They spread out to give the orc archers a difficult time at shooting them, and finally Erestor pulled his mount out of the battle as well.
Now that the infantry had full access to the orc line, they pushed through without worry of hitting their own cavalry. The fear of the dragon’s approach was growing, and some of the captains began to plan their attacks against the great wyrm as they continued to fight the orcs. The dragon swooped down, and as it dived down it opened its jaws and from its throat burst forth a stream of flame. It seemed not to care whether it killed elf or orc, and it incinerated a dozen of each before the great wings beat and lifted it up again.
“I thought the ones that flew breathed no fire!” shouted Glorfindel to Erestor.
Erestor shook his head and answered, “Who knows what other hells Morgoth has yet to unleash?” He clipped his heels against his horse and rode to join with Rog’s forces.
At the end of the line where the dragon was coming around again were assembled the majority of the soldiers of the Heavenly Arch. Egalmoth was out of arrows, but was grabbing them from one of his lieutenants’ quivers as he barked orders to the rest of his troops. “Someone set up a catapult! And find some rope!”
“Bring some rope!” shouted Duilin down his line, and the message was carried along until one of Galdor’s soldiers ran behind the line, carrying a coiled length of hithlain with him. Egalmoth directed him to where the catapult was being set. “Watch out!” he shouted as the dragon took another dive. A line of fire ignited across the ground, the catapult in the path. Three soldiers, all of them from the House of the Fountain, were burned to death almost instantly.
With the first catapult destroyed and the acrid smell of flesh permeating the air, Duilin ran over and retrieved the dropped rope, stomping on the burning end of it. “Set up another catapult!” he shouted to Egalmoth.
“Three of them!” Rog had managed to break through the group of orcs that his and Ecthelion’s troops were battling after being surrounded. “Spread them out! Do not give him a central target!”
“Clear the area,” advised Erestor as he rode forward. “Make sure damages are minimal if he comes around again!”
All around, chaos was closing in again. Glorfindel held his troops back, heading Turgon’s orders to keep the horses safe. The orcs were gaining on the position of the Gondolindrim and pushing them back.
The back end of the Gondolindrim was now close to reaching the Sirion, and Glorfindel saw Galdereth among those vainly attempting to hold them back. Glorfindel dismounted, leaving his horse in the care of another rider. “Galdereth, come with me!” he shouted. “Leave your horse!”
The two of them ran to one of the groups of boulders that separated them from the battle on the other side. Glorfindel took the spool of fishing line that Tauniel had given him out of his pouch and handed the end of it to Galdereth. “Hold this. When I give the command, stand up and pull it tight, and whatever you do, do not let it go.”
Glorfindel then took the spool and ran to the next group of boulders, letting the line unravel as he went. He took a firm hold of it when he was crouched behind the rocks, then whistled for Erestor. The Noldo was over in an instant. “Call for them to retreat, and have them come through here into the water.”
“But the horses are here, and—“ Erestor took note of the fishing line that snaked across the ground. “Ah. Good plan. Kill two birds with one stone. Just a moment.”
Erestor rode back to where Rog’s army was still doing battle. Ecthelion had called for his troops to come around to help with the dragon, as they were still armed with arrows and Rog’s army was far handier with swords than most of the companies were. Erestor fought his way to Rog’s side, explained quickly, and then pulled his horse out of the way. “Fall back! Back to the river!”
Rog’s army backed up, with the orcs they had been fighting following after them. Blindly they came, and once the last of Rog’s soldiers had crossed past the boulders, they were attacked as they were tripped by Glorfindel’s trick. The elves closed in on their attackers and in the confusion wiped out the middle part of the orc army.
Shouts of excitement came from Rog’s army as they came out of the water and ran back to aid their comrades. “We did it!” shouted Glorfindel. He grinned and looked over at Galdereth. “We—“
The line was still held tightly in his hands, but Galdereth’s eyes were dim and a thin line of blood was drawn from the corner of his mouth to his chin, where it dripped down onto his hands. Glorfindel dropped his end of the line and crawled over the bodies of the orcs between them to find a sword lodged in Galdereth’s back between his shoulder blades. There was another wound lower and a gash in his midsection.
Glorfindel lowered himself down next to the soldier and took a deep breath as he sniffled and passed his hand down over Galdereth’s face to close his eyes. “Sleep well, my friend,” he said as the salt of his tears touched his lips. He hastily brushed them away as he stood up, now wielding Glamdring in one hand and Galdereth’s sword in the other. He would see every last orc on the field dead, even if it was the last thing he saw.
