Shadows Over Lasgalen
Chapter 7: Lightning From a Clear Sky
by
Jay
of Lasgalen
First
> Previous
> Next
At Lasgalen, concerns were rising. The patrol, which had departed
several days ago, had not returned, and were now two days
overdue. While not that unusual, it did not augur well. Tensions
were mounting. Tirnan found it difficult to concentrate on the
minutiae of reports and duty rosters, and by now very anxious,
went up to the lookout point. The caves of Lasgalen were built
into the side of a hill, crowned by a rocky outcrop, bare of
trees. It made a perfect vantage point to view the forest, and
there was always a sentry on duty.
Tirnan made his way up the hill, and hailed the guard. “Is there
any news?”
The guard saluted him. “There is still no sign of the patrol,
Lord Tirnan, but I can see a lone rider, approaching from the
west. I sent a messenger down.”
“Show me.” As he looked in the direction the guard indicated,
Tirnan could see a magnificent grey horse and a rider, wearing a cloak
and a pointed hat. He did not recognise the horse, but the rider
seemed vaguely familiar. “I think I know who it is. I
will ride out with Mithrilyn. Keep a watch on the south and
west. Report any further news immediately. Anything.”
Tirnan went back down the hill, looping round to the stables to find
Mithrilyn. The horse looked up at his call, and whickered
softly. Mounting swiftly, Tirnan rode out towards the western
borders. The rider he had seen was about two miles away, riding
slowly. They should catch up with him before he got much closer
to Lasgalen.
As Tirnan rode out under the beech trees, he wondered if the traveller
would have any news. They could hear him coming long before they
could see him, for he sang - not very well - as he rode. Tirnan
halted Mithrilyn and waited for the singer to come into view.
“Mithrandir! I thought it might be you! We have not seen
you here for nearly ten years. It is good to see you
again.” Tirnan smiled as he greeted the wizard, now a rare
visitor to Lasgalen.
The wizard raised his head and gave a nod of acknowledgement to his
escort. “Tirnan. The last time I saw you, you had taken an
arrow through your shoulder at the Battle of Five Armies. I must
say, you look better now than you did then. What news is there of
Mirkwood?”
Tirnan’s face was grave. “We fear one of the Necromancer’s
minions has returned to Dol Guldur. We sent a patrol out over a
week ago to investigate, but they have not returned yet.”
Mithrandir sighed. “Alas, I feared there was a new shadow on the
forest. I came to find out what you knew of it. Is there no
news of your patrol?”
Tirnan shook his head. “None. They are two days overdue
now, and I feel uneasy in some way.”
The wizard was silent for a moment, deep in thought, then looked back
at Tirnan. “I must greet Thranduil, and you can tell me
everything you know of this shadow. Will you take me to him?”
~*~*~*~
The three remaining members of the patrol crested the pass and began to
drop down into the northern forest. Ahead, in the far distance,
they could just see the tall oak trees that marked the boundaries of
Lasgalen. As they descended, they left the bare pass, studded
with pine trees, and came into mixed woodland. About two thirds
of the way down the line of hills they came to a point where there was
a clear view out over the forest. They gazed out over the trees,
relieved that they were nearly home.
As they moved off again, Taniquel noticed a flicker of movement and
light far below, then another, off to the right. She called a low
warning. “Look! Down there! What is it?”
They looked at the area of forest she indicated. Far off, but on
both sides of the path they must take, and converging on it, companies
of orcs gathered. “They got in front of us,” said Taniquel
unnecessarily. “Any ideas?”
Alfiel looked thoughtful. “Do you think we can outride them?”
Legolas sighed. “We will have to. It seems to be either
that, or - ” he turned and looked up at the pass behind them.
“Oh,” he said expressionlessly. “We will have to,” he repeated.
In the cleft of the pass, silhouetted against the skyline, they could
see the shapes of orcs crossing the path behind them, cutting off their
retreat. They rode the horses as swiftly as was safely possible
down the remainder of the hills into the forest. As soon as they
cleared the steep, stony ground, they urged the horses into a
gallop. Pavisel and Lithuin, both riderless, were just as swift,
sensing the menace behind them.
Taniquel glanced back over her shoulder at the pursuing orcs.
“How did they get in front of us?”
Legolas glanced at her. “I think it was those things we saw, the
flying creatures. They must have been ferrying the orcs over the
mountains, waiting for us.”
Desperately they rode through the trees, heedless now of spiders and
the other perils of the forest. Alfiel felt sticky strands whip
his face, but brushed them aside. In places brambles crossed the
path, barbs snatching at them, raising angry red weals. Taniquel
had a long scratch across one cheek, but barely felt it.
Suddenly Mennaty stumbled on an unseen hole, and Taniquel, unprepared,
went flying over her head. She landed breathlessly, rather dazed,
but had already picked herself up when Legolas and Alfiel swung back
for her.
Alfiel dropped to the ground, helping her to her feet. “Tani, are you
all right? Is Mennaty?”
Taniquel nodded, panting. “We both are. She was not
hurt.” Her wrist was wrenched where she had landed on it, but it
would not stop her riding. She scrambled back onto Mennaty and
they resumed their desperate flight. They were nearing Lasgalen now,
but the orcs pursuing them were closing in, moving faster than the
elves had ever seen them. Now the orcs lining the path were
getting closer, moving ahead, trying to cut them off.
Legolas realized, with a sense of futility, that they might not make
it. If the orcs managed to block the path, they were
finished. And the horses were tiring …
He hoped fervently that the lookout at Lasgalen had seen the orcs and
the pursuit, and would raise the alarm so that the warriors were at
least prepared. If Lasgalen was taken unawares by the orc
assault, the entire realm could be destroyed.
~*~*~*~
Mithrandir refused to speak any more of the threat until he and Tirnan
returned to Lasgalen. Instead he told his escort of his latest
journeys and the strange places he had seen. He had come from
Rivendell, and had paid a visit to Beorn, who lived in an isolated
house near The Carrock, a tall rock in the middle of the Anduin.
Tirnan had only seen him once, but now heard rather more than he wanted
to about Beorn, his home, and his marvellous animals. After a
while Tirnan stopped listening, wondering what had befallen the
patrol. The danger of Dol Guldur must be even greater than they
feared if Mithrandir had come himself to investigate.
In frustration, he wished he had gone on the mission himself, or that
they had sent a larger patrol. He knew there was nothing he could
do that Legolas and Alfiel could not do just as well, but still…
Reluctantly, Tirnan acknowledged that his restlessness was because he
felt totally helpless, an unfamiliar sensation. If there was
still no news, then tomorrow he would take out a search party. He
would need Thranduil’s permission, for it would leave Lasgalen without
any of the three senior commanders - but somehow he doubted it would be
refused. Having made the decision, he relaxed a little, and
listened to the end of Mithrandir’s long, rambling tale.
At the gates Tirnan delegated a groom to look after the horses, then
led Mithrandir to the great hall, which Thranduil used to greet his
guests. Tirnan turned to the steward, Tionel. “Find the
King. Tell him Mithrandir has arrived. I hope he will be
able to help us.” Tionel nodded and turned away.
Tirnan poured the wizard a cup of wine, but he had only sipped it when
Thranduil entered the hall. “Mithrandir! Welcome back to
Lasgalen. We have not seen you since you and your - companion -
rode with us back from the battle. We are honoured by your
presence.”
The wizard inclined his head in greeting. “Thank you, my Lord.
But I fear I come on a grim errand. Tirnan has already confirmed
my fears that something, some dark shadow, has returned to Dol
Guldur. I was hoping to find out the nature of the threat.
You have sent a patrol?”
Thranduil looked grim. “A scouting party of six. My son leads
them but they have not returned. They should have returned two
days ago.” He drew a breath. “Mithrandir, can you
help us?”
“That is evil news indeed, but I will do what I can.” The wizard
knew that Thranduil must be deeply concerned. Proud and
strong-willed, it was not in his nature to ask for help.
From outside the chamber, a shout could be heard. Tirnan went to
the door, and there was a hurried conversation. He turned back to
Mithrandir and the King. “There are orcs approaching, very many
of them. They have come north of the mountains!”
Thranduil’s whole attitude changed. His concern was replaced with
decisiveness, as he gave a stream of commands to prepare Lasgalen for
battle. “Tirnan, rally the army. Put your captains on alert
to prepare a defence. Then come to the lookout point with
me.” He turned to Tionel. “Find Tirana, and tell her to
gather her helpers. I fear we are going to need the healers, all
of them.”
In mere seconds, those in the hall had left to follow their
orders. Tirnan found two of the army captains just outside the
halls - they had heard rumour of war and had already come to find
him. He gave rapid instructions and dismissed them, then, with
Thranduil in the lead, they left the halls and climbed up to the
hilltop, where several others joined them. Tirnan gazed
southwards. Beside him stood two of the lookout guards, but
judging from the horror on their faces they did not wish to be the ones
to relay what they saw.
Behind him stood Thranduil and Mithrandir, both trying to see what was
happening, but he knew that the wizard would not be able to see that
far, and that the King was no longer as sharp-eyed as he had been in
the past. The attacking army of orcs was still several miles
away. Fleetingly, through the trees, he could see horses riding
hard for Lasgalen. Behind them, trampling everything underfoot,
came the orcs. Hundreds of them. They had spread out and
managed somehow to get ahead of the patrol, and were about to surround
them and cut them off. The army captains were already
leading out riders and archers, all that could be mustered at a
moment’s notice. The rest of the warriors were deploying to
defend Lasgalen itself. But it was painfully clear that the
reinforcements would not get there in time. Tirnan sighed
and began to relate what he could see.
“I can see the patrol returning. Five horses. The orcs are
pursuing them, they seem very close.” Then, after a moment or
two, he added, “There are only three riders.” Silence followed
his last report. Questions raced through Tirnan’s mind. Only three? Who were they?
What had happened to the others? Where was Taniquel? Where
was Legolas? He strained his eyes, desperately trying to
see more, to identify the three riders. There was no mistaking
the pale gold and cream of one of the approaching horses. Very
reluctantly, he added, “One of the riderless horses is Pavisel.”
Apart from one or two gasps, the silence that followed was even more
intense.
Tirnan risked a glance at Thranduil. His face was stony,
impassive, but there was a deep anguish in his eyes. The King
returned his gaze steadily. “Tirnan, keep watch. Tell me
what happens.” Then he turned and left abruptly.
Tirnan’s gaze returned to the south. The pursuing orcs had nearly
reached the fleeing elves. They halted their horses and turned to
face their enemy for one last, desperate stand.
~*~*~*~
As more orcs appeared in front of them, the three halted the horses,
drawing into a defensive circle: Legolas, Taniquel, Pavisel,
Alfiel, and Lithuin. This time they were surrounded, and hopelessly
outnumbered. Taniquel moved closer to Legolas. “Any ideas?”
she murmured.
He shook his head in despair. “Not this time. But I will
not go down without a fight.” He raised his bow, ready to fire,
but never got the chance. A searing bolt of light arced down from
a clear sky. It struck the ground in the middle of the path,
leaving a black, smoking hole. They were deafened by the
concussive blast, dazzled by the brilliant flash. Lithuin reared
high in terror, as did Mennaty and Pavisel. Legolas, by some
miracle still clinging to Bahnfrei's back, spared a glance at the
sky. It was cloudless, with no sign of storm or thunder.
This was some new devilry of the Nazgûl. There was no
thought for any of them to spare for the two riderless horses, it was
all they could do to stay on their own. They still struggled to
control the panic-stricken animals when a second flash, even brighter
than before, lanced down, stunning them all and throwing them to the
ground.
After a long moment of complete confusion, his head ringing, Legolas
became dimly aware that he was on the forest floor. It was
difficult to breathe. Faintly, as if from far away, he could hear
the horses screaming. With an immense effort, he managed to turn
his head fractionally and could see Taniquel and Alfiel nearby,
unmoving. He tried to lift himself, and crawl to where they lay, but
nothing worked. The blast had caused a creeping paralysis,
leaving him unable to move. The ringing in his ears was quieting
now, and the stars dancing in his vision were blurring and
dimming. All senses were fading, and his final coherent
thoughts were of total, utter, despair. They had failed.
They had come so far, and were so close to Lasgalen, but he had
failed. He had failed his task, his companions and his
people. He had failed his father. There was also a faint
surprise - he had always thought death would be brutal, but this was
peaceful, so very peaceful …
He sank into darkness, silence, and deep oblivion.
First
> Previous
> Next
top