Searching for the Hidden City
~The road to Doriath is long, and Aerneth must first find Gondolin and Nargothrond.~
oOo
Tuor by Jenny Dolfen
Searching for the Hidden City
The firth of Drengist was a channel of the sea, leading into Hithlum like a triangular wedge between sheer cliff faces on either side, ending in a narrow, tunnel-like passage. Soon after the tunnel they cast anchor, wishing to avoid coming too close to the inhabited parts of Hithlum, which was controlled by the Easterlings nowadays. Instead the messengers would continue on foot along the southern highlands that circled Dor-Lómin all the way east to Sirion, and on the other side of that river they hoped to find the path into Gondolin.
Taking leave of the sailors, Aerneth and her two companions disembarked on a barren strip of beach with a rough cliff wall looming over them. They carried only little; lembas of course and a change of shifts, but not much else. No weapons, as neither of them were warriors.
When they climbed the cliff, Arminas had some misguided notion that Aerneth was a frail elleth who needed support. He repeatedly turned back to her, reaching out a helping hand. It annoyed her to the extent where she put all her strength into recklessly speed-climbing past the ellyn, arriving at the top first of all.
When Arminas' head became visible over the edge several minutes later, she held out her hand. "Here, let me help you," she said, hiding a smirk.
It was beautiful at the hilltop, with an astonishing view on all sides. Behind them was the open sea, and at the mouth of the firth they could see the swan ship that had brought them, already looking like an elfling's toy. Further south were the ruins of Eglarest, her childhood home; they had passed them by a couple of days back.
To the north, the fertile soil of Dor-Lómin unfolded, where the humans later in the year would grow crops and vegetables after their habit. The fields gave the ground a striped appearance from above, and columns of chimney smoke showed where there were settlements. It looked peaceful, but Aerneth was not fooled by it. The Easterlings had made thralls of the original inhabitants, taking the women as wives and mistresses and forcing the males to slave away on the fields – all according to Thranduil, who had heard it from Túrin, the boy he had raised.
Turning southeast, she looked at the Guarded Plain where the many arms of Sirion and its tributaries cut through the sparse pine woods and heathlands. The one closest to them must be Narog, the river that led to Nargothrond. Further east a mass of hazy brown and pink showed where the bud-covered trees of the forests of Brethil and Doriath began. Somewhere in there was her husband.
With a chill, the full impact of Ossë's foresight suddenly struck Aerneth. If he was right, all this would be gone. Sunk under the sea.
The thought was unfathomable. Could it really be true?
A movement much closer drew her eyes, and a blond man came out from behind a large oak. His clothes were tattered and stained, his chin covered in a bristly beard after the fashion of humans. He smelled horribly, like one who had not washed himself for weeks.
"You are elves," he stated, and greeted them the polite way with a bow and a hand across his chest.
"We are." They returned the greeting, all three regarding him with curiosity.
"I am Tuor, son of Huor, of the House of Hador, if those names mean anything to you?"
"Nay." Arminas and Gelmir both shook their heads, but Aerneth squinted and looked at him more closely. He reminded her of another human with those golden tresses and the sky blue eyes. Then she remembered.
"Huor! He fought with his brother Húrin in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, right? I only ever saw Húrin, but you look just like him."
"Húrin was my uncle, aye. They were both killed in the war, and I was born shortly after, so I never met either of them. And my naneth died when I was very little. I was raised by the elves in Mithrim, but then I got caught by the Easterlings and was forced to work three years for them. I recently escaped."
"I am sorry to hear that." No wonder he looked so harrowed.
"I have been trying to find the tunnel from Dor-Lómin to the sea. You don't happen to know where it might be?"
"Oh aye, it is down there. We just came through it." Gelmir smiled and pointed.
"Thank you." He bowed politely. "I must continue, then. They are probably searching for me." Soon his golden curls disappeared over the edge and he was gone.
"It is strange how fast humans grow," mused Aerneth as the three elves continued east. "It felt like hardly no time has passed since I saw his uncle, and then this man was not even born yet."
"Imagine having elflings who grew that fast. You could be a grandparent before your tenth decade day!" Gelmir chuckled.
"I will never have elflings," said Arminas bitterly.
Aerneth clenched her jaw and silently wowed to keep her mouth shut the rest of the journey.
oOo
"Can't we just give up?" Aerneth wiped her forehead and rested her back against a crooked pine. They had been climbing among the rocky cliffs east of the Pass of Sirion all day in the pouring rain, and yesterday too, and the day before that. For weeks they had scoured the area for a passage to the hidden city.
"Nay! The entrance must be here somewhere," growled Arminas, who was trying to braid his soaked hair out of his eyes. His gallantry from the first days of their journey had disappeared entirely, and it even seemed his feelings for her had subsided. Travelling over rough landscape in rainy spring weather, while sleeping on the ground and eating only cold food tended to do that to people.
"Well it clearly is not," Aerneth retorted sourly. She knew they had to warn Turgon, or she would have refused trying to find Gondolin at all. Both because she suspected it was futile – after all, it had been hidden for over thirty decades without anyone finding it – and because there was a certain blonde warrior living there who she hoped never to meet again.
"Let us try a few more days at least. We owe it to Turgon." Gelmir was cowering under a juniper. Then he sat up straighter. "What is that?" He was looking at a point below, and then he gasped as he lifted his gaze further.
Aerneth squinted through the shower, until she saw it too. A huge orc army came marching over the Anfauglith wastelands, even greater than the one she had seen during the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, and it was heading straight at the Pass. The first companies had already reached the river. If the weather had been clear and the sounds not muffled by the rain, they would have discovered them much sooner.
"Damn. It's beginning!" She jumped up. "We cannot linger here. This is it. The army that will destroy Doriath and Nargothrond! We must warn them."
"But what of Gondolin?" Arminas had gotten on his feet too.
"Ulmo said it would fall last of them," said Gelmir. "Maybe it will remain hidden."
"I hope so." Arminas clenched his fists in frustration.
The rest of that day and all through the night, the three of them hurried south over the mountains as stealthily as they could. Every now and then they tried to get a glimpse of the orc movements. They seemed to be gathering at Tol Sirion, the island where Sauron once had kept Beren prisoner, and where his tower still remained. Maybe they would regroup there, and use the island as base for their assault. It was a spot easy to defend – as if any elvish realm had enough warriors to match that host.
After another couple of days they had finally reached the end of the mountains, and began descending a steep slope full of rocks and loose stones. Below, they saw the Ford of Brithiach.
"That is Doriath." Aerneth pointed eagerly. "We should go there first, it is the closest!"
"But Nargothrond will fall first," Arminas objected. He seemed very reluctant to go to Doriath, possibly because he knew Aerneth's husband lived there.
"I agree with Arminas," said Gelmir, and Aerneth was downvoted.
At least now they were walking on more even ground, and could follow the Old South Road all the way to their destination. The weather had cleared too, and south of the road the ground was covered in sweet smelling wood anemones under the Brethil trees. If they had not been in such a hurry, it would have been a great spot to set up their camp, and perhaps try catching a fish or two in the river and have a warm meal for a change.
Instead they trudged on, day and night, postponing sleep and most meals until later.
They were spotted very soon after they crossed the Teiglin, another of Sirion's many tributaries, and came out onto the Guarded Plain. Not for naught was it called so, for apparently Nargothrond had scouts all over the place. Within a few hours a small guard company on horseback came galloping up at them, asking who they were and what their errand was.
"We must speak with King Orodreth," said Gelmir. "We bring an urgent message from Lord Círdan."
"We shall take you to our commander," said the guard.
They were given spare horses and brought by a couple of the guards to a large camp, with many tents and rows of colourful banners billowing in the breeze. Behind the camp rose a hill, where a stone bridge led to a set of huge double gates. A roaring sound came from under the bridge; the river Narog.
So this was what Uinen had spoken of. The once secret city of Nargothrond had become wide open and inviting, and the river which could have protected it from attacks had been spanned. If the multitude of orcs they had seen came here, they would effortlessly take the city.
In the largest of the tents they were met by a tall person with raven hair, looking so much like a Noldor it took several minutes until they realised he was actually a human.
"You are not Orodreth" said Gelmir.
"I am his counsellor. You can speak to me." The man even sounded like an elf, and his chin was smooth. Had he no beard, or had he cut it off?
"Lord Círdan specifically said the message was for the king's ears. You must take us to him."
The man waved at a nearby ellon, almost casually. "Get him."
He nodded and left, presumably to fetch Orodreth.
"What is your name?" asked Aerneth. She suddenly had a horrible suspicion she knew already. A man – looking like an elf – living in Nargothrond. Could it be anyone else?
"I go by many names here – Mormegil, after my sword, or Bloodstained, son of Ill-fate, which is what my name should have been."
"You are Túrin, Húrin's son," she said.
His eyes widened in surprise and then he frowned. "Who told you that?"
"Thranduil, my husband."
He flinched and suddenly looked terribly guilty. "Oh. I did not know he was married. Did he... What did he say about me?"
I did not know he was married. How could those words hurt so much? Thranduil had loved this man as a son, but apparently never once mentioned her existence to him. "He told me everything." If she hurt, he could hurt too, and she knew why he seemed nervous.
"Everything?" He suddenly straightened up, and the commanding air returned. "So then you know not to cross me. Keep my name a secret, or may Morgoth take you and burn your tongue!"
Aerneth stared at him, surprised over his outburst. But before she could reply, a group of elves approached, one of them wearing a thin circlet on his brow. King Orodreth was blonde like his aunt, but apart from that he did not look much like Galadriel. His face was more narrow and he had a weak chin.
"You have a message for me from Círdan? Then why do you come from the north? That is suspicious, don't you think so, Mormegil?"
"Indeed." Túrin glared at Aerneth.
"We were searching for Turgon, my lord," Arminas explained. "For Gondolin, his hidden city."
"Then you have gone wrong. There is no Turgon here." Orodreth turned as if he wanted to leave again.
"Wait, my lord!" exclaimed Gelmir hurriedly. "A great host coming hither. The whole of Anfauglith was littered with orcs."
"I do not fear orcs."
"Nargothrond will fall, the Vala Ulmo has foreseen it, and Círdan Shipwright sent us to invite you to his realm, where you can be safe. The following words are from Ulmo: 'The evil of the north has defiled the springs of Sirion. You must close your fortress and cast the stones of your pride into the river.'"
The king turned to Túrin. "What do you make of this?"
"Let Círdan deal with what he knows best – boats," he sneered. "If Ulmo has a message for us, he ought not speak in riddles."
"That is what I thought also."
"He is talking about the bridge." Aerneth could not keep silent. "'The stones of your pride.' The bridge. Cast it down and close your gates. Let Morgoth clash against them in vain, thinking you are in there, while you bring your people south to my adar."
"Círdan is your adar?" Túrin's contemptuous look disappeared. "My apologies for belittling him, My Lady. But we will not abandon Nargothrond, and Morgoth is welcome here with his troops! This is what we have been waiting for; a chance to finally end him."
"Indeed." Orodreth smiled and nodded at the man.
Were they stupid? Did they think they could resist the entire host of Morgoth? Unlike them, Aerneth had seen it. His dragons, his balrogs... One dragon alone would burn this camp with all the tents and banners into a crisp.
She met her companions' gazes, and read the same shocked disbelief in their eyes.
"We are grateful for Lord Círdan's concern, and you must thank him upon your return," said Túrin. "The hour is growing late, however, and you look weary. Allow us to reward your troubles with our hospitality. Let us share a pleasant supper, and you can tell us more about your travels in the north, and have a comfortable night's sleep in our guesthouse. Now you must excuse me, I have much to discuss with my captains." And with that, they were dismissed.
After a brief conference among themselves, they decided to accept the offer. They were weary, and hungry, and a night in a guesthouse sounded very appealing.
Tomorrow they would continue to Doriath, where they would hopefully get a better reception. There was of course the overhanging threat of the orc host, but hopefully they could afford to stay here one day.
❈ ❦ ❈
A/N:
Mormegil that Túrin is called in Nargothrond means "black sword" in Sindarin.
Oh, and Tuor whom they met on the way is Túrin's cousin, and unlike the messengers from Círdan he actually found Gondolin and fell in love with an elf there, fathering a certain Eärendil with her. Eärendil will be important later in this story. :)
Image Credits:
Tuor by Jenny Dolfen, goldseven.wordpress.com
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