[Envinyatar]

Early Spring - before the first thaw/Lindon - S.A. 1696

The last of the snows had been a fortnight ago. It had been a light one, but still the icy layers lingered and no warm wind from the west had come as yet to melt the frigid crust that locked in solid the dirt beneath. Hénsirë jabbed hard at the ice with the sharp point of his practice stave, taking his frustrations out on it. Winter had been too long a fearsome guest in this northern land and timid Spring had not yet dared a challenge.

‘Lighten up a bit!’ Ondomirë hissed at him beneath his breath. ‘By the One - set a good example for your troops these last few moments we must idle here!’ Hénsirë straightened, resting his stave against his shoulder and looked casually about at the assembled Elves. Their eyes he noted were not on him, but on the Elf who had just stepped up to the raised platform to stand next to Lord Elrond. Hénsirë’s heart gladdened at the sight of him. It was Gil-galad, and in his fist he bore his spear, Aiglos – ‘Snowthorn’. Its great length he held aloft as he greeted the assembled troops and it caught the sunlight, gleaming like a radiant, deadly-pointed icicle. Hénsirë’s men raised their own spears and shook them in greeting, giving forth a mighty roar of recognition as they did so.

Ondomirë nodded toward Geldion as they and their troops greeted the High King with a welcoming shout and a show of raised sword and bow. He could feel that old first thrill of setting out on a campaign. A few words from Lord Gil-galad, a last directive from Lord Elrond; then, they would be heading toward Eregion and the city of Celebrimbor.

Lord Elrond, Ondomirë noted, had begun to make a few welcoming remarks. The usual litany of praise and sword rattling phrases as others of his rank had done to stir up the spirits of those under their command. His voice drifted into a dull buzz in Ondomirë’s mind as the Commander of the Elven Bowmen took stock of his own men. One hundred and fifty of the best bowmen Lindon could muster stood at rest, their attention of Elrond. Ondomirë felt a swell of pride as he looked at them. Most were already seasoned warriors, and those new to the ranks had brought considerable skill with them.they would do well, he thought, against any foe who dared face them.

Geldion and Hénsirë also had a good body of warriors they each led. Two hundred swords formed Geldion’s command; one hundred spears followed Hénsirë. Each type of weapon division was broken into small fighting units of ten Elves each, captained by seasoned veterans. They had trained hard and long in the winter compound and all were now ready to see Lord Elrond’s plans come to fruition.

Plans . . . hmmm . . . Ondomirë shifted from foot to foot as he stood on the ice, his toes feeling the creep of the cold through his boots. Beyond the initial phase of getting the small army and their supplies moving, there really had been no discussion of plans. Perhaps it was a function of not knowing the lay of the land where they would be fighting; perhaps Lord Elrond was one to keep secret his larger plans, waiting until whatever stage he decided had been accomplished before letting the next small set of instructions be implemented. Ondomirë shook his head as a pernicious line of thought crept in . . . Perhaps there are no real plans at all and he thinks to make them up as he goes along . . . which would not prove all that ill, save for the fact that this is his first engagement as a leader and really he has no experience . . . oh, let him not be playing this off the cuff as it were . . . too many of my men and those of Geldion and Hénsirë have families that I would like to see them return safely to . . .

He cast a glance down the line at the other two commanders. What were Geldion and Hénsirë’s thoughts on this he wondered . . .

The voice buzzing at the edges of his conscious mind had changed, he noted. The High King was now speaking:

“I speak to you in this solemn hour for the life of our Kingdom here in Lindon, of our kinsmen in the east, of their allies, and, above all, of the cause of Light against the encroaching shadow. A battle is raging in Eregion, focused on the Elven city of Ost-in-Edhil. An old enemy of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth has arisen. Sauron, the foul whelp of Morgoth Bauglir, has raised himself up and is looking to bring all lands and people under his dominion. His wrath is turned upon the Elves of Celebrimbor, and he would slay them or worse yet, enslave them to his dark purposes if he may . . .”

Gil-galad’s sonorous voice gathered in the Elves, holding their attention as he laid out the grave situation in the eastern region of Eriador. Ondomirë could feel the martial spirit kindling in his breast as the High King spoke on. His speech, in sum, was not too long, it kept his listeners nodding ‘yes’ with vigor at his words and vowing silently in their hearts that he would not be let down.

The King paused, his voice falling into the silence of his attentive listeners. The cadence of his speech had been like a drum beat, and now it fell into a slower and more somber rhythm:

“Today is the day we Elves of Lindon stand against him. Ages ago words were spoken to be a call and a spur to the faithful servants of Truth and Light: ‘Arm yourselves, and be ye men of valour, and be in readiness for the conflict; for it is better for us to perish in battle than to look upon the outrage of our kindred and the loss of all that is fair and good in Arda. As the Will of Eru is in Aman, The Blessed Realm, even so let it be here in Endóre, Middle-earth."

There was deep silence as his last words were spoken, then the Elves raised their weapons to him as one and facing westwards, cried out in accord that it would indeed be so. Ondomirë, too, found himself lending his own voice to the resonant harmony of the others.

It was Elrond, then, that raised his sword and taking his place at the head of his army of five hundred warriors, led them out of eastern Mithlond. He turned south as they reached the eastern foot of the Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains, intending to continue to the end of that short section of the chain. From there he and his followers would head east across Minhiriath toward Eregion.