~The great war against Morgoth begins and Aerneth tries to do her part from the colony in the mountains.~

Chapter warning: graphic injuries

oOo

Host of the Valar

Ered Luin (the Blue Mountains), First Age 545

Uinen's beautiful features were distorted with agony in Aerneth's water bowl. "I soon cannot help you any longer; evil is everywhere," she whispered. "The enemy knows the resistance is gone and has opened his gates to let everything out. Orcs as countless as grains of sand in a river bed; and..." She shivered.

"Dragons?" Aerneth was afraid to hear the answer.

"Nay, but nearly bad enough. Balrogs. They terrify me. And the misdeeds of the orcs, too... They have chased the humans out of Brethil and whenever they catch one they... play with them. Torture them until they die. Women, children... no one is safe."

"We have seen it too. Survivors come here every day. Their wounds are... sickening."

"They throw the mutilated corpses into my rivers. I cannot stand it." Uninen shivered again, taking off her coral circlet and twirling it in her hands. "I have withdrawn my presence from Beleriand. From the tainted waters... I can only give you tidings from the coast now."

"What about the Gelion? Have they reached it yet?"

"They had not when I left it just now. But I will not stay to see them ruin that last river also. I just cannot."

Aerneth slowly exhaled, feeling slightly less tense. "I understand. Thank you for this, at least. Any sight of Eärendil's ship?"

"I am afraid not."

"He will return. I trust what I saw in Galadriel's mirror."

When she left her house, Aerneth's eyes were drawn to the road where another group of refugees slowly made their way up to the colony. She stopped, observing them breathlessly until they were close enough that she could pick out individual faces.

Women. Children. Bearded men.

No elves.

Aerneth could not stop watching the road; waiting, hoping to see familiar faces as Oropher's people finally rejoined them. Every day the past seven years she had looked. Every day she became hopeful only to be disappointed when there were only humans.

Pushing down the usual tangled web of guilt and worry over leaving her husband behind, she continued to the high king with her tidings. What was the point in wondering where Thranduil was and why he had not come? She had no way of knowing why. All she could do was continue waiting.

Gil-galad lived in the largest house of the colony, a timber palace with a grass roof, woven of corn straw. On the way there, Aerneth passed a field where rows of green sprouts were poking up.

They grew corn on both sides of the mountain with good help from their human allies. Despite the altitude, the mountains had turned out to be fertile. The climate was dry on the western slopes and rainy on the eastern ones, but they had diverted a part of the Ascar river to irrigate the western fields and thus both plantations yielded bountiful harvests that Galadriel turned into stacks of finest lembas.

The council was gathered in the palace's main room; Celebrimbor, Círdan, Celeborn and Galadriel, waiting for Uinen's tidings. Aerneth briefly filled them in, though there was not much they could do with the information. At least the enemy was still keeping to western and central Beleriand. They were still safe here.

"I hate to just sit idle." Galadriel curled her hand into a fist. "Who knows how much longer it will take for Eärendil to return? We ought to strike back."

"I agree," said Celebrimbor. "If only we were not lacking metals... I wish I could have forged more weapons and armour."

"We would still be too few," said Gil-galad firmly. "Be patient."

"What shall we do when the enemy comes this far?" Círdan cut in. "Our colony is not hard to spot. We are an easy target. I think we ought to continue east, to Eriador, the lands of my youth."

"And be flooded there instead?" Gil-galad retorted.

The room grew silent as they pondered their situation for probably the hundredth time. If they had a way to know that only the lands to the west would be flooded, moving east would perhaps be the safest option, but they did not. The visions in Galadriel's mirror had never shown the fate of the rest of Middle-earth.

"Maybe we could fortify ourselves," said Celeborn after a long while. "The cliff behind the colony has many cracks and hollows. We could widen them and dig tunnels to hide in."

"Too dangerous," Galadriel disagreed. "If enemies decide to block the tunnels we would starve."

"Not if we make several exits and hide them. I think it could work. Tunnels are easier to defend than open land."

"I second your idea," said Gil-galad. "Take what workers you need and start on a small scale. Once you know whether the rock is safe to excavate, you can expand. Hopefully we will not need the precaution but better safe than sorry."

oOo

The little girl wailed in her mother's arms when Aerneth unwrapped the blood soaked bandage, revealing the stump that was all that remained of the baby's arm. Someone had wound it tightly to stop the bleeding.

Aerneth's stomach churned with powerless rage. She had become used to seeing nasty orc bites in various states of inflammation, but this was such a small, innocent child. The one who did this was a sick monster.

Swallowing down the anger, assuming a serene mask on her features that she had learned would calm her patients, she began to gently wash the stump with an antiseptic herbal tea, made of Athelas and yarrow. The baby's wails turned into a tired moan; she was so weak from blood loss she had not even the energy left to cry.

Lately, Aerneth had become chief healer of the colony. Though most elves knew a bit of healing, only Galadriel and Aerneth had trained under Melian the Maia, and in that, at least, Aerneth did better than her friend. Galadriel had fought in several battles and taking lives made healing harder. Instead she baked lembas and guarded the premises with her husband and other warriors.

Aerneth had killed people too – though not as many – and her training had been centuries ago in Doriath, so she was certainly no healer expert. But it was better than nothing. She knew the basic cures and potions, and a spell to close wounds. 

At first it had been nearly too much. The sheer evil of the orcs' deeds had overwhelmed her, and empathy with the patients' suffering made it hard to do what she had to – for, many cures briefly increased the pain. But somehow she managed, doggedly continuing until at last she became used to it. She found a way to disconnect her feelings and just do it.

Nowadays she often found that despite having to see gruesome wounds on a daily basis she actually enjoyed the task. It made her feel needed and important, and took away part of her loneliness. When she was busy in the healing hut there was no time to endlessly worry about her former husband.

It was time to seal the baby's wound. Aerneth spoke in a soothing voice while she worked, telling the woman what she was doing and why. "I am now using a salve to stop the festering and take away some of the pain. Next I shall sing a few words, it is a healing spell created by Estë the Vala. It will close the injury before I remove the bonds. It was well thought of you to bind your daughter's arm like that but it is dangerous to leave it on much longer."

The mother had not said anything the whole time and did not open her mouth now either. The look in her eyes was dull and her face closed off in a way that reminded Aerneth of Thranduil. It was the face of one who had witnessed such horrors she had to repress her emotions or she might lose her mind.

Aerneth had seen many such faces lately. Sometimes in her own mirror, too.

She sang the spell, watching the uneven mess of muscle and severed tissue slowly grow over with a thin layer of new skin, red and fragile. When it was covered completely she unwound the severed arm. No bleeding, thankfully. It had worked. Humans were less resilient and harder to heal than elves and sometimes the spells had little or no effect on them, but not this time. The baby would be scarred and marked for life, but at least she would have a life.

There was a gentle nudge in Aerneth's mind; someone reaching out to her. Her heart skipped a beat in the vain hope it was Thranduil, though it did not feel like him. It was unlikely he would want to contact her after everything anyway, even if he was still alive, but hope had a tendency to linger.

She left the baby to be bandaged by a woman working alongside her in the healing hut, who had been her village's midwife before she fled. She could not do spells but was capable at nearly everything else which was a blessing. Aerneth was only one person, after all, and there were often several patients needing treatment at once.

It was not Thranduil who called, of course. Instead Uinen's beautiful face appeared in the bowl, smiling triumphantly.

"They are here!"

Aerneth's heart jumped again, but with excitement now. "Eärendil returned?"

"Not him, but the ones he went to fetch. The Host of the Valar has come and Morgoth's spawn flees before them! At last!"

"The Valar themselves? That is wonderful news!"

"Aye, Oromë and Tulkas, and countless elves. The Maia Eönwë is leading the host."

"It sounds amazing. I wish I could have been there to see it."

"There is a spell I can use to borrow the eyes of a seagull. I can show you everything it sees. Do you want me to?"

"Of course! But wait... I should tell the high king. I am sure he wants to see that too."

Aerneth hurried over to the palace with the news and soon the council was gathered. Because they were so many, Galadriel suggested they use her new mirror instead of the small bowl. The mirror was a round, stone paved pool she had dug beside a creek and walled in the surrounding area to create a rocky garden. She used it often, trying to catch more glimpses of the future, but so far it had only shown the same visions as before.

Now Aerneth used it to summon Uinen again.

"Greetings, Lady Uinen." Gil-galad bowed deep, visibly stunned at the sight of her. Not many elves of Beleriand had seen a Maia face to face.

She returned the greeting, then her face disappeared and they heard her sing a complicated spell. With each verse a picture materialised, hazy first, but gradually more clear.

With a pang of longing, Aerneth recognised the Falas unfolding below her, and the sad ruins of the once beautiful cities of Eglarest and Brithombar. Her homeland. The bird whose eyes they used was languidly circling the hill where she had grown lembas corn.

The mouth of the Nenning river was crowded with ships, large ones, much bigger than Círdan's, and both onboard them and on the shore were elves, tiny like ants from a bird point of view. It appeared they were rebuilding the lookout tower in Eglarest.

Further inland she noticed more elves, walking in wide, ordered rows along the old road to Nargothrond. Their armour reflected the sun and made them sparkle like a myriad of crystals.

There was no sight of orcs. The host must have either scared or driven them away.

Círdan indicated the banners on the ships. "Are these Teleri? It is hard to see details at this height."

"They are," Uinen replied. "I talked to them when they arrived. They plan to fortify the Falas and wait there, for they refuse to fight together with the Noldor after what they did in Alqualondë. The only reason they are here is because the others needed the use of their ships."

She was referring to the First Kinslaying, when Fëanor and his sons – and their followers – had killed Teleri elves for ships to sail from Aman to Beleriand. That had been shortly after Morgoth stole the three Silmarils.

Aerneth regarded her Teleri relatives, feeling a certain connection despite having never met them. She had survived a kinslaying of her own now and could easily understand why they still resented the Noldor even after so long. Elves fighting elves was despicable.

"Can you get us nearer to the host?" asked Galadriel eagerly. She was leaning so close to the surface she almost fell in. She probably wondered if anyone she knew was there; she had friends and family in Aman and had been parted from them for over five centuries.

The bird obediently flew closer, circling the walking elves, gradually coming lower.

The army was huge. Spreading out in all directions, with far more elves than was possible to count. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands had come.

"I have never seen so many warriors," breathed Gil-galad, staring wide-eyed at the amazing sight. "I had no idea Aman was so populated."

"Well, most who were killed on this continent must have been reborn there, and add to that all those who never left," said Celeborn. "It appears Eärendil must have made an impression to summon so many; I would not be surprised if nearly everyone has come."

"Even ellith," Aerneth pointed out, having noticed several among the ellyn.

"I see Noldor and Vanyar banners – and there is even the King of the Valar's," said Cirdan in an awed voice. "Is he here?"

"Nay, Eönwë the Maia holds that banner," said Uinen. "He carries Manwë's own sword and leads the host in his stead."

Two impressive figures went in the front troop with Eönwë, twice as tall as him, their faces vaguely elven but bursting with power. One rode a white horse with a pack of long-legged hounds in tow and the other ran effortlessly at his side.

Gil-galad drew in a sharp breath. "Are that–"

"Oromë and Tulkas," said Galadriel. "And his horse is Nahar. I met them in my youth."

"I did too," said Círdan.

"I see Adar," Galadriel suddenly exclaimed, and now she really did fall into the pool in her eagerness.

"Finarfin leads the Noldor and Ingwion the Vanyar," Uinen confirmed.

Galadriel distractedly wrung out water from the hem of her dress. "We should go there. Join them in battle."

Celebrimbor agreed. "There is no honour in hiding."

"We cannot," said Gil-galad. "Scores of orcs and balrogs are between us and them; we are much too few and too weak to fight our way through. And even if we did... just look at them. They do not need us. A handful of poor, wing clipped refugees with neither proper armour, nor weapons."

"That is not true." But he sounded like deep down he knew it was.

"They seem to be using the Nargothrond road," said Celeborn thoughtfully. "That will lead them over the Talath Dirnen heathlands, via the Crossing of Teiglin to the Pass of Sirion. On their way they are sure to be either killing the orcs that fester the plains and Doriath or drive them back to their holes in Angband in the north. If we monitor the progress of the host we will know when the lands are safe enough for us to join them."

Galadriel brightened. "That is an excellent idea, husband."

"I cannot help you watch them," said Uinen. "This spell is hard to uphold for long, and I will not go with the host. The waters are tainted."

"Then we use scouts," said Galadriel firmly. "And our eyes. We will not sit idle and let others fight our war."

Aerneth was silent. She was no warrior, and even if she wanted to join a battle again, she did not want to leave this place. She had told Thranduil she would wait for him and the others in the mountains and she would keep that promise. Even if she had to do it alone.

❈ ❦ ❈

A/N:

In the next chapter you will find out what delayed Thranduil. It's nearly finished and I will post it on Sunday.

Thanks for reads and votes! Your support means a lot.

Image Credits:

The Witcher II