The Grey Pearl (Of Caladuin: Volume Two)

25

Caladuin reflected on the events of the last eight erielin as he hurriedly packed his meagre things. His steel and flint, the iron fist, his knife and a few wash things. He had left a long trail of blood behind him and though they were needful deaths he still felt pangs of guilt for each of them. If the slaying of kin was the gravest sin then he was indeed a sinner.

He shouldered his pack and walked to the stairs where he heard a lyre tinkling in one of the rooms down below. At the kitchen, dinner was being prepared; he leaned through the doorway and asked one of the cooks for some bread and cheese for his journey.

After settling his bill, he walked out into the street and looked up at the sky. A thin veil of cloud obscured the fading Rossiaur. Along the street, Tathariel was striding towards him, leading a horse. Noenion walked with her.

"Did you buy a new bow?" she said as she neared.

"I decided to wait until my return to Eglarest."

"Noenion has kindly secured you passage on the Aerlinn. The guards will meet you at the harbour."

"Good. But what of your wound? It is a long ride to Menegroth."

"Rest easy, Caladuin. I have had it redressed. Hopefully, I will arrive there before the orcs."

"And you, Noenion. You will make a fine Governor. Your town deserves one."

But there was doubt in his eyes.

"Rest easy, friend. Círdan is wise and kindly. My account will include a favourable recommendation."

"I cannot thank you enough," Noenion stuttered. "Both of you. For everything you have done. Not only for me but for the town."

"Think nothing of it," Tathariel said. "If anything, we should be thanking you."

Noenion threw his arms around Tathariel and hugged her tightly before glancing at Caladuin with brimming eyes. "Farewell. To both of you." He turned and strode off down the street without looking back.

They turned and even though they both knew there was need for haste, they strolled towards the harbour. "Will he make a fine governor?" Tathariel said as she wiped away a tear.

"As fine as Ethirost needs at this time. He is better placed here than in Eglarest. We still do not know how much he knows."

"Indeed, there is goodness in his heart. I trust that he will do his best for the town."

They walked in silence for a while, passing the last of the townspeople who were returning to their homes and their families.

"We should part ways, Tathar. You must be away to the North."

"Gwaelos is swift and hardy. We will make good headway before star-rise." She beamed up at him. "You do not rid yourself of my company so easily, Cala."

He smiled and again they lapsed into silence. There was only the clip-clop of Gwaelos' hooves and the screeching of gulls, wheeling and tumbling above the rooftops.

At length she spoke again. Her voice was soft and uncertain. "I wonder if our paths will cross again, Cala."

He took her hand and softly squeezed it, before letting it go. "I am sure they will, Tathar."

* * *

Thus began the Wars of Beleriand. The full account of the First Battle of those Wars is written elsewhere but let it be known that with heavy loss, it was hard fought by the Eldar. In the east, Thingol led the Sindar from Menegroth and assailed the orcs at Amon Ereb. With the aid of the Laegrim of Ossiriand and the Dwarves of Ered Luin, the orcs were utterly routed.

In the west however, the greater host of Morgoth swept across Beleriand, cutting off Círdan from his Sindarin allies. He it was who led the Falathrim against the orcs but was driven back behind the walls of Eglarest. The Havens were besieged until the Return of the Noldor drew the orc-host north.

If songs have ever been sung of the part Caladuin of Ossiriand and Tathariel of Arvernien played in that First Battle, they were sung in Ethirost, for none ever reached the ears of the Eldar of the North.