„Get him, Velco! Get him!“ cried the elf with the long brown hair.
„Noro lim, Belegmairo!“ the stallion rushed towards the fleeing enemy. The heavy war-bow was drawn during the wild pursuit. A long arrow hit a leg, penetrating tissue and bone, pinning the limb upon the ground. The foe fell on his knees, grunting.
„Finish him, finish him!“ shouted the brown-haired elf from a distance, running as fast as he could upon the surface of the snow.
Macilvelco descended from his horse, still frowning upon his inaccurate shot and made his way to the defenseless prey, drawing his Andamacil.
The scout was twisting and fidgeting, trying to pull the arrow out of the earth and free his leg.
Looking down at his opponent, the elf with the raven black hair and grey-golden eyes was suddenly seized by compassion.
„Who has inflicted this misery upon you? What were you, before you became what you are now?“
he said in a low voice, using the common tongue.
But the orc answered with a disgusting sound, the face twisted in a grimace of pain and fear.
„Velco! À Nahta! À Nahta!“ he heard his companion’s voice from afar.
He tightened his grip and put the tip of the blade against the scout’s throat.
„Do it, Golug Pûsh! Just do it!“ slobbered the orc, hatred in his broken voice.
„If I killed you, I would free you from your master’s grip. And I would free Valariandë from your misery. But I also could release you. There is kindness in this world, not only resentment“ said Macilvelco, calm like a tree in a winter’s night.
„Velco! What are you waiting for?!“ cried the brown-haired elf, running. He was already close.
Macilvelco hesitated.
Win or lose
The difference is hesitation and decision
In times of war
there is no place for mercy
only the relentless, only the strong, only the suspicious
will survive
„Help me!! Over here!“ the scout screamed suddenly, drawing a dagger and stabbing the thigh of the elf. Chain mail and thick leather stopped the impact, and the short blade fell into the snow.
In that very moment, a longsword pierced the orc’s head and pinned it down upon the earth.
This time, the scout remained silent, eyes filled with terror wide open, face and chest sullied with black blood. The snow around the orc’s head was growing darker slowly.
„For Endórë’s sake, Velco. What were you doing?“ said the brown-haired elf and pulled his blade out of the corpse.
„I… do not know, Felyo.“ Macilvelco lowered his head.
„He could have killed you!“ frowned Felyanáro.
„And besides, what is the point in sparing the life of an orc? Are you hurt, by the w…“
But he did not finish.
They heard voices from the east.
„Curse it! We drove too much attention,“ hissed Felyanáro.
They ducked.
„They just saw our horses“ whispered Macilvelco.
A stocky figure clad in thick white clothing approached Belegmairo. He held two very long objects in one arm.
He muttered something and extended his other arm to grab the reins.
The stallion shook his head and nickered.
That was enough. That stranger tried to steal the horse.
Macilvelco stood up.
„That is my horse, you fool!“
The man fell back, shocked by the sudden appearance of the elf and the sharp, commanding voice. Quickly he got up and ran towards a nearby hill.
Macilvelco reached Belegmairo. He looked down at the two long objects the man had dropped. They were made of large bones, and shaped in a manner that they appeared flat.
The elf shrugged. He had never seen anything like this.
„Velco, he escapes!“ said Felyanáro.
Both hurried to catch up with the running man.
It was not that hard. They grabbed him and pinned him down.
The man tried to resist, but very quickly he realized he was astonishingly weak compared to the two Noldor.
„Who are you?“ asked Macilvelco in a rough voice.
„This is no Orc, that is for sure“ said Felyanáro.
„But what is he then? He is too big for a Casar.“
The man shook his hands as a sign of surrendering and uttered a few strange words. Indeed, his beard was short and thin, not comparable to that of a dwarf, and his skin was reddened by cold air and physical effort.
„Do you speak the Common Tongue?“ asked Felyanáro.
The man answered something, but they could not understand.
„Do you remember Laerwë talking about the Apanónar in Estolad? Maybe this fellow belongs to them!“
„But Estolad is far away from here.“
„He must be one of the Apanónar. Maybe a different branch. A different people.“
„I do not trust him. He could be a spy of Angamando“ said Felyanáro, eyeing the man.
„He does not look like a friend of the Orcs but rather like a wanderer of these wild lands. I do not think he would do any harm to us“ argued Macilvelco.
His companion muttered something, but in the end they helped him up.
The man spoke quite much, although they could not understand a word. But suddenly he stopped and began staring at their feet.
„What is he looking at?“
„No idea. Looks like he is studying our boots.“
The man looked up a few times, his mouth slightly open, and there was confusion in his face.
Then he pointed at their feet, and said something.
„You shall not have my boots. I still need them“ warned Felyanáro.
But Macilvelco understood.
„Look! His feet are completely buried into the snow! Just like the Casari.“
He pointed at the man’s legs, invisible below the knee, and then at his own feet, with a smile.
The man said something and smiled too, and there was a glimpse of admiration and respect upon his face.
He was small, measured by elven norms, but in front of the two Noldor who stood upon the surface of the snow he almost appeared like a dwarf.
„Careful, there is more of them“ said Felyanáro, as another man clad in thick white clothing appeared nearby the hill.
He almost immediately drew a short axe and charged at the elves.
„See what I meant? Now we are in trouble“ sighed Felyanáro and drew his sword.
„Felyo, wait!“ Macilvelco grabbed his arm.
The man with the reddish face stepped forward, palms raised, speaking insistently with his companion. But he could hardly stop him.
„Come here, Atan! Are you a servant of Angamando? My blade is hungry for Moringotto’s minions!“ cried Felyanáro, this time using the Ancient Tongue of the West. He raised his Andamacil.
Before it could all escalate, Macilvelco threw himself at the charging man, grabbing his axe and hitting his chest with an armoured shoulder. The attacker was hurled backwards into the snow, and the impact took his breath for a moment.
The man glanced upon the elf, gasping for air, and there was fear in his eyes.
The red-faced Atan pulled his companion up again, speaking to him, pointing at the elves.
„You spared the life of our enemy once more“ frowned Felyanáro.
„I think he just wanted to defend his friend“ answered Macilvelco, slowly approaching the two men.
He nodded shortly, and offered the axe to its rightful owner. The man looked up at the tall elf, his fingers slowly grasping the handle of the axe, but he could not find any hostile expression in the grey eyes of the Noldo. Finally, he took the axe, then tapped his shoulder twice and lowered his head. Perhaps a gesture of thanks?
„No need to worry, Atani. We are not your enemies“ said Macilvelco calmly, using the Common Tongue again.
The man with the reddish face smiled and said to his companion: „Ngolo!“
Glancing at the elf, he said again: „Ngolo!“
Felyanáro sheathed his sword.
It started to snow again.
„Hmmm…I think he is referring to us“ said Macilvelco. He nodded and said in Sindarin: „Ngolodh“.
Pointing at himself and his companion, he added: „Ngolodhrim“
The red-faced man smiled and repeated: „Ngolo.“
Macilvelco pointed at his chest with his thumb and explained: „Macilvelco.“
Both men raised their eyebrows. The one with the axe finally said: „Felgo.“
He placed his palm on his chest and added: „Noru“. Placing his palm on his companion’s chest, he explained: „Tukka“. Drawing an imaginary circle in the air, he finally said, with a solemn voice:
„Tula“. The red-faced man repeated: „Tula, Tula“. He then grabbed Macilvelco’s arm and pulled him gently, pointing to the east, speaking enthusiastically, mentioning „Tula“ many times.
Felyanáro frowned. „I am tired of this nonsense, Velco. We have a task to accomplish. We should leave“ he said in Quenya.
But Macilvelco raised his hand dismissively. „Wait, Felyo. These people might have information about the enemy and the movements of its servants in the northeast. It may prove useful for Lothlann. Let us go with them. I suppose Túla is a country or a place. it must be nearby, since they are not geared for a long journey.“
„You will get us both captured or killed. Or captured and killed“ frowned Felyanáro.
„We will come with you to Túla. Lead on!“ said Macilvelco to the two men.
„Trust me, Felyo“ he said to his companion while grabbing the reins of his stallion.
„Even if this is the first time we encounter mortal men, I know these Atani bear no evil in mind. After all, are they not the Eruhíni as well? Are they not our younger brothers and sisters?“
---
[Notes and translations:
Eruhíni - Children of Eru (Quenya). Meaning elves and mortal men
Atan / (pl.) Atani - Man / men (Quenya). Referring to man as a race
Tula - invented word. Fictive word for some place or people in the northeast of Beleriand, north of the place that was later called Forochel
Lothlann - "wide and empty" (Noldorin/Sindarin). Referring to a wide land in the northeast of Beleriand
Ngolodh / (pl.) Ngolodhrim - Noldo / the Noldor (Sindarin)
Ngolo - barbarism of either Ngolodh (Sindarin) or Golug (black speech), in the tongue of a tribe of the Forodwaith (invented word)
Andamacil - longsword (Quenya). A popular weapon among the Noldor
Angamando - "Iron Gaol" (Quenya). Known as Angband (Sindarin)
Apanónar - the "After-born" (Quenya). Referring to mortal men as a race
Estolad - "the encampment" (Sindarin). A place in eastern Beleriand where several tribes of the Edain had settled for a while
Casar / (pl.) Casari - dwarf / dwarves (Quenya). Adapted from "Khazâd" (Khûzdul)
Valariandë - Beleriand (Quenya)
Golûg Pûsh - "elf (Noldo) excrement" (Black Speech)
À Nahta! - "kill him!" (Quenya)
The men in this story belong to a tribe of the Forodwaith. Although not much is known about them, one can assume they were a hardy folk that lived in constant threat by Angband's power, especially those on the west side of the Northern Waste. After the destruction of Beleriand and the forming of the bay of Forochel, these tribes may have moved east and south, some of them eventually becoming part of the people called the Lossoth]
