At War in Love. The Shadow over Rhudaur Part IV

Chapter 11. Winter Campaign Decided

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Cameth Brin. November 6, 1347, mid-morning.
Written by Valandil
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Tarnendur was interrupted in his anxious pacing by a knock at the door. He stopped and drew himself up as Orefim entered. Orefim bowed and spoke.

“Your Highness…”

“Yes?”

“Broggha has just arrived. The Council is all assembled.”

Tarnendur’s face showed a somewhat contorted smile – his lower lip pushed upward as if to force a frown, but the corners of his mouth turned up in an attempt to smile.

“Very well then. We shall go at once. Is Daurendil ready at last?”

“Yes, Your Highness. He has been found and made ready. He awaits you outside this very chamber.”

“Then let us go.”

The King came forth from his chamber and walked briskly down the hall and the stairs and on out into the November morning. His son and Heir stepped in just behind him, with various attendants falling into place as they passed. He strode proudly across the royal grounds and on to the Tower of Cameth Brin. He held his head high and kept his face forward, but his eyes darted around to survey all about and before him. Those in the courtyard stopped at their tasks and bowed as he passed them. Two attendants rushed ahead to clear the way for his coming and the guards stood aside and drew open the doors to the tower. On they passed toward the Council Chambers, where at last they arrived just as the announcement, “The King!” faded from before them.

As Tarnendur entered the chambers he saw that all present were standing, except Broggha, who only now slowly stood to his feet, as if grudgingly. Tarnendur pretended not to notice, nodded his head in acknowledgement to all and took his own seat as signal that they may now do accordingly. He then began the session without delay.

“No doubt you have heard already some form of what I am about to lay before you. Yestereve, I received a message from Captain Merendil – who was to escort the Lady Gimilbeth on the first part of… a trip she has taken, … as far as Brochenridge, and whose return might indeed have been expected yesterday.”

“Orefim – have the message read.”

Orefim signaled to a scribe who carried a small scroll. The young man opened it and read in a loud, clear voice:

“November 4, 1347

King Tarnendur,
While returning to Cameth Brin, have discovered that a band of Orcs, perhaps 300 or more, have infiltrated the land and had observed our earlier passage, and have since set off in a direction which might intercept Princess Gimilbeth’s party before they reach the Last Bridge. Had already assigned her 40 men – may not be sufficient. Am giving chase with all available men, in hopes of reaching her in time.
I know not from whence these have come, or how they breached our borders, nor if others are about as well. Having no time to ponder these things which you must, I turn only to the attempted rescue of your eldest child.
Regards,
Captain Merendil”

The scribe rolled up the scroll, laid it beside the King and stepped back. There was silence as the various council members compared this account with the versions they had previously heard. Next, the man who had delivered the message from Merendil was called forward, that any of the Council might ask him further questions. When these had been addressed, the King signaled Orefim to lead the messenger out. At this point, several of the attendants who had followed the King to the chamber were dismissed, leaving only the Council, Orefim, two recording scribes and the guards.

“Council members,” began the King, “You have heard the message from Merendil. My daughter’s fate we must leave in his hands, for she is now five days out from Cameth Brin. But what of these Orcs? What is their number, and what was their purpose? Has their purpose now become to attack my … daughter?” The King’s composure showed signs of breaking, but he mastered himself and regained it. He continued, “Are there others about? Where did they come from? Where did they enter into our lands? What harm have they already done?”

He then stood in his chair, still composed, raised his voice further and proclaimed, “This charge I now lay upon you, Council of Rhudaur – to take up this matter with me. The Kingdom of Rhudaur needs all your strength, … all your devotion, … all your wisdom! What say you to this? What are we… to… do?”

His voice beginning to break at the end, the King lowered himself slowly to his seat. He placed his hands on his lap, below the table, for he could no longer contain their shaking. He lowered his head gravely as he waited for someone to speak.

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Cameth Brin Tower. November 6, 1347, mid-morning.
Written by Angmar and Elfhild
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After King Tarendur resumed his seat, the council members were in shock at the alarming news. When the full realization of the gravity of the situation dawned upon them, the men murmured angrily among themselves. Faces turned expectantly towards General Nimruzir of Fennas Drunin, the Head of the Army of Rhudaur.

A dour expression upon his face, the general rose to his feet and looked over the assembled members. "Your Majesty, honorable lords and dignitaries, fellow council members," he began in voice strong despite his many years. "We have all heard the contents of the letter from Captain Merendil, and know the great peril which now faces our beloved Princess Gimilbeth." He gave the king a sympathetic look. "You ask how this thing has happened and what is being done? I am just as shocked as the rest of you, but I promise you that our princess will be returned! Everything possible is being done to see to her speedy rescue. Dispatches have been sent to our posts in the area, ordering all available troops to be dispatched and sent to her aid. But there are few troops to be spared," his voice rose, "for our forces are spread woefully thin!"

Lord Belzagar leaned towards Lord Elured, who sat beside him, and whispered in his ear. "He has said nothing of any substance, but what does he ever say? The old general is in his dotage. He should have been retired long ago. A younger man should be found to replace him before the old man's growing mental deterioration and ineptitude compromise our security."

Elured nodded gravely and muttered, "Unfortunately, I must agree with you. He has been saying the same thing for years. He should be removed and a better found to take his place."

The general looked over the crowd before continuing. "But as I have maintained for years, it is not great numbers of men in the army that win the battles - it is the resolve in the men's spirits and minds that tell the tale! And the heart has gone out of our army!" He slammed his fist on the table, causing goblets and drinking vessels to rattle. The assembly muttered at his words, some agreeing, some disputing.

Belzagar murmured low under his breath to Elured, "When there is nothing to be offered but excuses, the old sycophants always resort to histrionics." Elured nodded.

Nimruzir went on, his voice growing louder as his face grew redder. "And why you might ask has the heart gone out of our army? It is not for want of leadership, for there are no finer officers than ours in all of the North. It is not for lack of devotion upon the part of our soldiers. Nay, they are all good and brave men who journey over the long, lonely marches." General Nimruzir sipped from his goblet of water and then resumed.

"I could cite the fact that none of the officers or men have had a pay increase in the past five years as an explanation. I could say that many of our people are more interested in making profits than supporting the military. I could tell about the young men who shun military duty in favor of a life of parties and high living at court." He riveted Prince Daurendil with a piercing stare.

"I could say many things." The old man's eyes blazed with fury. "While all these play a part, this is not the explanation. We have faced just as bad in the past." He turned his gaze on Broggha and stared coldly at him. "We have forgotten who we are, the descendants of the Numenoreans, a once proud people. Our ancestors forged a great empire from the South to the North! But in the years that have elapsed since then, we have faltered and become prey to fear. In our weakness, we have taken counsel with those who do not share our vision."

A muscle twitched in his cheek as he clenched the table with one hand. "We have allowed ourselves to be influenced by lesser men! We, the sons of Numenor, must reclaim a sense of who we are and forge our own destiny without the influence of outsiders! Only then will we return to greatness!" The general bowed his head. "My prayer is that the princess will be returned safely to us and that the Valar will give us guidance. I have nothing more to say. Thank you for listening to me." The old general sat down amidst an angry mutter of voices.

A faint smile spread across Belzagar's face as he looked from General Nimruzir to the pale face of the king and then to Broggha. "The old fool challenges the great Broggha. He has just signed his death warrant."

Lord Curugil waited for calm to return before standing to his feet. An obesely large man, he had to scoot his chair back slightly so that his ponderous girth would not bump against the table when he rose. Clearing his throat, he scratched his stomach and gave his doublet a sharp tug forward so that the buttons would not gape so widely. The man's fat face was ruddy, and his breath reeked of wine and garlic.

"Your Majesty, esteemed lords, members of the council," he looked around, blinking when his vision blurred and doubled, "this is indeed a dark day in our history. Never before have the orcs made an attack upon a... a member of the royal family! My heart goes out to the.... king and the queen and their children!" His words were slightly slurred, as he had arrived at the meeting mildly intoxicated, and intensified his inebriated state with each subsequent goblet he had consumed at the meeting...

"How did we allow such a thing to happen? Orcs within our own borders? An impossibility! But yet it is true! We have failed! Our vigilance has faltered, and these bestial creatures have come into our country to terror.... terrorize our citizenry. This is only another - hiccup - woe to... add to a long line of woes! They have crossed the... where was it again?" He looked down to Huramir from Dol Aglardin, who was sitting beside him. "Ah, yes! The mountains!" In a low voice, he thanked Huramir and slapped him on the shoulders, causing him to pitch forward. "Then Dol Hithaer was taken by the enemy, a terrible thing..."

Weaving on his feet, he took another sip from his goblet to shore up his balance. "My friends, this is the hour of crisis! We must arise to the occasion and drive these rogues from our borders!" He raised his wine goblet in the air and shook it for emphasis, some of the crimson liquid sloshing out and hitting Huarmir in the face. "We must never let this happen again! We must be more willing to support our army in every way possible! My friends, before I take my seat, I leave you with this humble suggestion. Ahh... ahhh...." Pausing, his besotted mind tried to remember what he was going to say. "Ahh, yes! The levy of taxes must be increased!"

Belching loudly, Curugil sat down with a great thud and looked around, beaming drunkenly. A few members of the audience clapped, more for politeness than anything else.

The assembly turned expectantly to Jarl Broggha, Count of Pennmorva, who was just rising from his seat. As bulky as a great bear, his broad shoulders covered with a fox cloak, the redhaired giant inclined his head to the king before looking around the table at each man. "Your Majesty, honorable lords, distinguished colleagues, how I am saddened to learn that the beloved Princess is in peril, and perhaps faces grave danger at the moment we speak." He paused for emphasis.

"I am equally saddened to hear the words of General Nimruzir, who seems to have woefully misjudged those who would only be friends and offer succor in a time of need. I have done everything in my power to bring our two peoples together and foster a spirit of felicity and harmony between them." He glanced towards General Nimruzir, who sat stiffly in his seat, his spine like a battering ram as he glared at Broggha.

"I am a forgiving man and not easily offended. In my desire for cooperation between our peoples, I will allow this slight to go overlooked." A smile played over Broggha's full lips, but his blue eyes were like glittering ice. "My lords, I will not take much of your time, for I know there are many other important matters to be discussed at this meeting. I will not bring you endless words this day, promises that mean nothing! I bring you more than hope, for hope is fleeting. I offer you far more than that. What say you to the offer of two hundred trained and well-armed men to aid in overcoming this crisis? Perhaps General Nimurzir would object to the fact that they are led by my own officers. Hillmen, aye, and perhaps what the general would call lesser men, but each one has a sharp eye, a steady hand and swords of the sharpest steel. Your Majesty, my lords, I await only your word."

As Broggha bowed his head in false humility, all eyes in the chamber turned to the king.

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Cameth Brin Tower. November 6, 1347, mid-morning.
Written by Serenoli and Gordis
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The king stood up.

In a terse voice - he seemed to be holding in much anger - he said, "I thank you, those who have tried to address the crisis we are facing. I called this Council in a state of much fear and anxiety... knowing full well that any action we take now may be too late to help the Princess, but determined all the same that swift actions have to be taken, firstly, to aid Captain Merendil in any way in rescuing her... and secondly in driving out these orcs and taking precautions that they never come back.

"I did not call this Council to ask for an explanation from anyone, though General Nimruzir felt compelled to give one anyway. And the explanation amounts to this - he wishes for a pay rise for his army and he resents the fact that there are those present at this Council who are not descended from Numenor. Lord Curugil on the other hand, has proposed we increase taxes. And Lord Broggha has offered me two hundred trained men.

"I have thought hard about this," he could not resist being a little bit sarcastic "and I have decided that - while there are obvious attractions to paying an army for letting a horde of orcs come into the country and attack their princess, and while I can entirely see why the orcs, frightened, perhaps at the thought of paying more taxes, might chose to leave the country of their own volition - despite all that, I have decided we can do no better than accept Lord Broggha's offer of armed men to help us."

Tarnendur turned to Broggha and addressed him directly, his old grey eyes meeting the Hillmen`s blue ones levelly. “Aye, I accept your offer, Lord Broggha. But I say to you, the Kingdom is in peril and utmost sacrifice is required of everyone. It is time to prove your worth, Broggha of the Hillmen!”

“You offered me two hundred fighters. It is not enough. You can do better. Take five hundred Hillmen and lead them yourself under the King`s banner with my blessing. If in three months you bring me the keys of Dol Hithaer, a rich reward will await you. Every one of your men will be counted in the Army of Rhudaur with full pay and subsistence that only Dunedain guards now have. But make haste, as winter gales are at hand.”

“Help you will have. Once in the lands of Imlad Mitheithel, make sure to contact Lord Dinen, Seneschal of this land. He will rally his men and send at least a hundred with you, maybe more.”

“Lord Belzagar here...”- the King`s heavy gaze fell on the young councilor, who rose to his feet - ”Your lands of Duniath are close to Imlad Mitheithel and also threatened by the orcs of Gundabad, so it is only fair if you send a hundred men to help Lord Broggha to reclaim Dol Hithaer, unless you choose to go there in person. As for me, I will send Captain Merendil north with some reinforcements, once he is back.”

“What say you to that, my Lords?”