Flame of Gondolin, book 2: Miss Independent

CHAPTER TEN
Winter, 1000 SA

"Lift your sword higher – you will never block anything if you keep dragging it along like that!"

Tired, caked with dirt and dust, Anárië lifted her head from her position on the ground, where Lachuí had forced her to, and her eyes spoke murder. But she never complained or said anything during these sessions, so this one was no different, and she used her sword to help lift herself onto her feet again.

Lachuí had taken it upon himself to make her a proper warrior, or that was what he kept saying, at least. Since his almost humiliation at the marketplace, he had been working with the elleth every sunrise and sundown, making sure that she almost regretted her stubbornness and decision to join the warriors in the barracks.

Almost.

Her trainings with Maglor had been infrequent and short; Lachuí’s beatings were daily, longer, and harder. But she was spared total humiliation of defeat every time she managed to wipe the smirk off the ellon’s face, which was becoming more and more frequent now. It had perhaps taken her longer than it should have, but she had needed to push her body to its limits and accustom it to the daily beatings before she’d been able to actually learn something and make it her own.

So now she spat to the side and lifted her sword again, when at the beginning she would have simply stayed on the ground and let the Commander walk all over her to get his satisfaction.

Lachuí nodded; his appearance was not as pristine as it had been at the start either. She had gotten some hits in.

"Good; again. This time, you come at me."

The elleth was conscious of the crowd that had gathered; at the end of the day, those who were not tasked with the weapons came to see how these sparring matches would go. Most simply came to be amused, though she had found that the ellith, at least, seemed to come to see Lachuí thrown onto the ground.

Anárië did not wish to spoil their sport.

So she attacked, and he blocked her, but they were both weary at this point, and she sensed it would be their last duel of the day. He went into a wide arc which she jumped aside from, too weary to properly block him. But that did not stop her from going in for her own attack again, sending him quickly backwards if he wanted to retain his head. Their swords clashed and smacked against each other as they twisted and turned, trying to get the best of each other.

Her arms felt like lead when, finally, Lachuí lifted a hand and they both stood still, leaning heavily on their swords, and panted.

The crowd let out some hoots and cheers and jibes, and then began to disperse when the commander waved an arm to dismiss them. Then his weight went more heavily against his sword.

Anárië had her forehead against the back of her hands, the sword the only thing keeping her upright, and she peeked at the other Elf, exhausted beyond belief.

"You are almost ready," he finally said, his words breezy and halting as he fought to breathe.

She straightened with a groan: "Ready for what? The only thing I feel ready for is a bath and a bed, and you’ll never allow me to see the inside of a battlefield regardless of what you might say."

He did not answer her, but he did grin.

"Patience is a virtue."

The elleth groaned again, running a hand across her face and turning away: "You are intolerable, in case no one has ever told you this before.

No, wait, I take it back – Berien did, the last time you were in the same room together."

She heard a snort from behind, and knew she had hit a mark – Anárië had realised that Lachuí loved Berien, but whether the elleth in question returned his affection was still uncertain. It honestly could not be good when all they did was snarl at each other every time they were tossed together at one formal function or the other.

"Try not to believe everything she says – you seem to be coping well enough."

He had caught up with her, and they walked back to the main building of the barracks together. Anárië looked at him with a shake of her head,

"Would it be so difficult to simply tell her you care? She might look upon you differently then. Right now, you are simply the arrogant commander who likes tormenting a lot of her friends."

He did not answer with words, just gave her a look, and she relented, knowing she could do no more today.

"Tomorrow, you should come before dawn," she heard him say just as she was about to leave him, "the King is riding out with a hunting party. You are coming with us."

Anárië looked at Lachuí like he had grown a second head for a moment; yes, she had known about the hunt, but she had never actually thought they would take her along. The commander had chosen only a handful of his best warriors to ride with the King thus far.

He gave her a haughty look: "If we pause in your training for only a day, your muscles will go back to sleep. We cannot afford that."

But she saw, just for a moment, a small sparkle in his eyes the likes of which she’d never seen before, and she gave him a bright smile of thank you before turning and hastening away.

The feelings going through her were more than just joyful, they were ecstatic, because this was the first time that Lachuí had acknowledged her other than when he sent her to the ground and pushed her into the dirt. She would have skipped along if her tired muscles would allow that. So instead, she went slowly, and sighed in content when she finally reached her rooms.

Inside, she found a hot bath already waiting for her, and Berien sitting in a chair by the fireplace.

"To what do I owe this honour?" she asked, amused, closing the door behind her.

The other elleth smiled: "I thought you might need something like this – there is lavender and chamomile oil in the water, to help with sore muscles. You should get in while it is still hot."

Anárië smiled more, and did as she was told. Once she was soaking in the tub, she turned her head back to her friend: "Is everything alright, or do you need help with something?" She had grown close to both Berien and Wilvarin since their trip to the Dwarven kingdom, and loved them dearly.

The older of the sisters unfolded her willowy frame from the chair and came to help wash the golden hair that looked like something might have died in it among all the dirt.

"I hear you will accompany us tomorrow."

Anárië sighed: "This city spreads news faster than they are formed."

Berien tugged at her hair playfully: "No – Lachuí spoke of his intention a couple of days back, actually. He is very impressed with your progress and believes you will benefit from the experience."

Did she dare ask just how her noble friend and the Commander managed to speak together for long enough so that came up?

Berien seemed to read her mind, and shook her head: "My cousin is a commanding officer, remember? Lachuí spoke to him."

This placated her enough so that she relaxed further and allowed the oils to work their magic through her sore muscles. She and Berien spoke of unimportant things for a while as she bathed, and finally dressed, curling on the bed while her friend sat back in the chair. When Elrond came to see whether his mentor was still alive, he found the noblewoman gently pulling the covers over Anárië’s sleeping form.

"Lachuí drives her too hard," he commented softly, lightly touching her forehead and smoothing a frown she wore in her sleep, "I wish he would not be so on her."

"It is the only way she will learn," came the whispered reply of the elleth, "and she is stronger than you give her credit for. Come; we all need our rest before tomorrow."

They left the rooms as quietly as they had entered them, leaving Anárië to her rest and seeking their own. An hour before dawn she woke with a start, pulling Tuor’s knife from under the pillow and sitting up in bed.

Lachuí lifted his hands and stopped mid-stride.

"When I said you should always be ready to defend yourself, I did NOT mean that you should stab me!"

"You would deserve it sometimes!" she snapped, relaxing and placing the knife back, running a hand across her face, "What in the name of Varda are you doing in here?"

"I had a hunch you would not wake up in time if I did not come for you personally," he explained, crossing his arms over his chest, and she noticed the clothes he was wearing were less ornamental than normal when he was in the palace, but practical.

And then she remembered the hunt when she saw a pile of the same at the foot of her bed.

Lachuí chuckled when she jumped from under the covers hastily: "Gently! We are not riding until Arien sails, but horses need saddling. Be quick about dressing."

She was, as soon as he left the room; she braided her hair quickly and joined him in the hallway when she was done. He moved without a word and led the way down to the stables, where they went in search of their horses. After Raumonóna, Anárië had had many others, all from the same, unbroken line that had come from Gwainar, and from him from over the sea. Her current mare was a spitting image of her forefather, slightly stockier, but swift and steady.

The others who would be riding as an escort today began to arrive, and muted conversation took place through the stables as they worked. The elleth rubbed her mare’s muzzle as the horse snorted and nuzzled against her cheek, happy to see her and to be heading out.

They were all in the courtyard with the horses waiting for the King and his entourage when Gil-galad appeared. With him were Berien, and some other ladies of the palace, with some of his friends and advisors. Elrond was to be in charge of the city while they were gone, and while Anárië was worried about him, she could not ignore a direct command.

The King patted his stallion and pulled himself into the saddle, and his escort did the same. When the first rays of the day touched Lindon’s white walls, they rode out onto the plains.

Anárië and Lachuí rode on the same side, and he explained how this would take place, to her and all the others who were there for protection:

"We are not here to hunt, so if it is a wild animal, leave it be unless it goes for the King. We are here to ensure that none of the stray vermin from the North come across our path. There have been strange sightings in the land again."

They spread out among the party after that, trying to cover as much ground as possible and protect all of the participants. Anárië rode with Berien and one other elleth, but she spoke little as her attention did not go further than their surroundings.

Some hours after sunrise, one of the outriders rode hastily back and reported solitary wolves in the vicinity; the game was set, and they moved.

Anárië manoeuvred her mare closer to Lachuí again.

"Is it normal for wolves to be this far away from the mountains?" she asked him over the sound of hooves.

He looked at her with a worried expression, which told her all she needed to know, and she fell back at a sign from him to help him cover the flank he was guarding. Ereinion urged the company on, his spear now in his hands, and the hatred he held for wolves plain on his face.

The creatures sprang from the undergrowth when the horses drew near, and fled from the onslaught, but the hunters gave chase, and rode in pursuit. The horses almost snarled as they smelled the fear of the prey, for they had been bred to carry their masters anywhere and to anything if need be. They did not shy away from challenges.

It was only after the ground suddenly dropped and then levelled out that Lachuí’s call sent a chill down Anárië’s spine: "My lord! Not the gorge, steady your horse!"

But the King had almost speared a wolf by this point, and did not hear. Anárië kicked her horse to go faster, bumping Berien aside as she did so and managing to throw her horse out of its hunt-crazed ride.

They were headed for a narrow crack in the rocks now, and she could see what the commander was afraid of – if they got caught in there, anyone could take them from above. Even kill them.

Lachuí was trying to reach the King to stop him, but even as he did so the ellith who were with them suddenly gave a shout, and Berien’s voice rose high:

"Lachuí!"

Anárië pulled her horse back at the cry, cruelly commanding her as the commander turned back, the animal slamming into the goblins that had slid down the slope behind them, and pulled her sword out, snarling at the creatures.

Up ahead, one of the wolves suddenly turned and went straight at Gil Galad. One of Lachuí’s soldiers bumped the King’s horse away despite the spear in his hands; he was too precious to lose in a skirmish like this. Lachuí had to choose: his heart or his King.

Anárië pushed Berien’s horse backwards as she kicked her mare ahead of it to block her from the goblins, her sword slashing down across the face of one as she did so.

"Berien, back, turn back! Ride as fast as you can!" she called across her shoulder. Her friend was no swordswoman, but she was also no coward; she would lead the others out of this if need be.

But suddenly they were surrounded, and Anárië cursed in frustration as the pesky maggots in front tried taking hold of her mare’s head; the horse suddenly had enough and bolted through them with a neigh, stomping and bucking as she did so, forcing her rider to hold on for dear life. In doing so, however, they had left Berien open for attack.

The goblins seized their chance and went for her, but a roan charger suddenly dropped among them, sowing death wherever he turned.

"Berien, ride back and do not stop until you reach the city!" Lachuí ordered over the commotion. The battle tide had turned the forces around, sending him straight towards the women. Whatever happened to Ereinion, the skirmish itself had forced the Commander to obey his heart.

A warrior cut a path through to them: "Commander, I will ride with them – you are needed here!"

"The King!" Anárië suddenly screeched and Lachuí turned his head to see Gil-galad pulled out of the saddle.

He was too slow.

A fury with golden hair and upon a horse half-crazed with pain from a slash wound across her side threw herself across and into the fray, landing beside Ereinion and shielding him so he could regain his footing. Anárië forgot about everything and everyone else except the ellon who was almost underneath her horse, and the Flame of Gondolin shone in the light of the sun as she unleashed its wrath upon the creatures that once again dared stand in its path. He was not her charge, but he was Elrond’s family. That was enough.

Ereinion managed to catch his breath and his hold when the elleth turned and offered her hand: "Quickly!"

He took it, and she helped him mount behind her, and her horse went through the goblins standing in its path, her master’s sword cutting down those that opposed her. They were not numerous, but they kept on coming it seemed, and she could not see anyone of the guard near her.

"Hold on," she instructed the King, still dazed from the fall, as she guided her horse as swiftly as she could or dared.

Suddenly a path was cut to her, and Lachuí and another of his men flanked her.

"Ride!"

She did. She had never ridden like that before in her life, but she did now, and they managed to pull out of the gorge and gain more speed across the grass under the trees, leaving the goblins behind.

Halfway back they were met by a platoon of soldiers; Berien had been smart enough to immediately send one of the party galloping swiftly back to the city to send aid.

"Commander!"

They encircled the retreating group, and Lachuí quickly gave out orders, sending half of his force back to clear out the goblins they could find, and the rest remained with them.

Anárië breathed heavily and halted her mare as this went on, rubbing the horse’s sweaty neck as she did so and checking her wound, which was not deep, before turning to look at Ereinion who was still lightly holding on to her with one arm.

"Are you alright, Your Majesty?"

His blue-grey eyes met hers, and after a moment, he nodded.

"Yes, thanks to you."

She shook her head to clear her tired vision, her muscles aching from the shock and the adrenaline: "Lachuí’s quick notice saved us, Majesty. I simply got lucky."

"In the right place at the right time," the Commander’s voice reached them as he guided his horse in close; the force he had sent out against the goblins was seen riding away, "Are you hurt, Your Highness?"

"Just winded, I believe," came the answer; Anárië steadied her horse as she side-stepped slightly.

Lachuí nodded: "We will get you to the healers soon. There are no spare horses, so I will have to ask you to ride with Anná to the city."

The use of her informal nickname made her lift her head and look at him in wonder, but his expression was unreadable, and she simply nodded, clicking her tongue to get her horse moving, and they rode back towards Lindon in greater haste than they had left it that morning.

News had spread like wildfire, and they were all out to see whether the King was unharmed, and Lachuí had to send riders ahead to push a passage through to the palace. Elrond was anxiously waiting for them there, with the rest of the hunting party that had managed to escape during the first flight. Berien and Lachuí looked at each other, and both relaxed, but did not close the distance between them.

Anárië waited for the King to dismount before she did so herself, and Elrond looked frightfully relieved when he saw them.

"When we heard the news I feared the worst," he confessed, embracing Ereinion and then the elleth, holding on to her for a moment longer than necessary.

She patted his side: "We were lucky, but do not get too close – I stink of goblins and sweat."

To this, Ereinion laughed and clasped her shoulder: "Better that than your own blood! Your mentor has grown to be a fine warrior, Elrond – Lachuí was right in training her as hard as he did. I will have no qualms having her beside me."

Anárië looked at the King with a frown, and then to Elrond to see whether he knew something that she did not; he was as much at a loss as she was, however, and lifted his shoulders to prove it.

Ereinion smiled: "Lachuí has pointed out an interesting and useful piece of information – if I am to be protected at all times, it would be prudent to have a female do this, since she could stand in as a companion and partner whenever she was needed. Out of the ellith in the barracks, the commander has personally recommended you."

She turned to look at Lachuí who had just joined them, and he inclined his head: "I told you that patience was a virtue – and now you are ready. If you accept, you will guard the King, for you can be closer than any of us without arousing suspicion. This way you will also always be close to the son of Eärendil."

She could hardly believe it! After all the times she had had to practically eat dirt and suffer through endless humiliations from the commanding Elf, he was now positioning her higher than himself! Her incredulity seemed to show on her face, for Lachuí laughed:

"Yes, you will answer only to the King now, which will make us almost even – but at the end of the day, you obey my commands. That has not changed."

Elrond nudged her discreetly, helping her to nod, too stunned to speak, and Ereinion patted her shoulder again as they moved into the palace and out of the way.

"Good; you will report to Lachuí tomorrow morning and he will tell you all you need to know. Then, you shall join me."

Beside her, Elrond was practically bursting with joy on her account, but she was more or less still in shock – until she saw a roll of parchment in her charge’s hand, forgotten in the moment.

"Elrond, what is that?"

He looked down, and suddenly remembered: "Oh! My King – forgive me, I was to give this to you upon your return."

Ereinion frowned and took the roll; Elrond continued: "It was sent here just after you left this morning, by falcon." His voice had dropped, and his eyes were serious now. Anárië had a bad feeling about this.

The King read through the script, and frowned more: "The lands east of the White Mountains have been settled."

This drew a collective frown from them all – it was Lachuí who spoke: "Across Anduin? The desert begins there, as far as our scouts report, those who have ridden that far."

Elrond and Anárië looked at each other, then back at the King, who was not happy about this news: "Elrond?"

All eyes now turned to him, and he shook his head: "I understand very little, but everything inside me screams against welcoming this news; something is happening that we do not yet understand."

This did not bode well; Anárië had learned to trust Elrond’s instincts more than her own because of his Gift. She met his gaze again, and he shook his head.

The King ran a hand through his hair: "Commander, be on the look-out; for now, that is all we can do. Perhaps tomorrow will bring another counsel."

He left them at that; Lachuí went with him, but Anárië touched Elrond’s arm.

"I see darkness, Anná," he whispered at that, "a terrible darkness. Something is prowling closer, like a wolf on the hunt. I do not trust this void in my sight, like someone knows how to play with it. Something is about to begin that none of us can control.

Whatever happens, stay close to the King."