In those days, the shield of good over evil was a fine veil. All the lands
were plausible segues for a siege and all of its inhabitants were pawns for
the most powerful. Middle-Earth was the prize. 10 years had slowly crept by
since Rakal and his legions were vanquished in the woods of Tamlot on the
Bruinen. 10 years did Sauron retreat into the dark mountain and wail; his
bitter defeat at the elf haven of Isodor still stinging in his unclean
soul. The fires of Mount Doom roared in open fury. And for those unlucky
enough to witness the outpouring, if they came away unscathed from the mere
sight of it, they knew the depth of Sauron's rage and humiliation. It was
as one watching a great tumult of lava and fire spewing into the air from
too close a perch. It was menacing, fearful, anger without restraint. 10
years. It was but a drop of water in the vast oceans of timelessness to the
immortals who wandered Middle-Earth then. Yet, for some, it was an
eternity. Time was a cage from which there was no escape. It trudged on,
oblivious to those that took notice to it. Time was a dream denied, an
opportunity gone, and a moment never again to be savored. And for the Dark
Lord Sauron, every instant that Middle-Earth did not despair in his iron
grip was a wretched constraint upon that which would not be controlled. Yet
the price to be paid by the one was not without reward to others. Peace and
tranquility fell once more into Middle-Earth's waiting embrace, and this
was a welcome respite to the guardians who stood vigilant watch over the
very heart of the world's destruction.
Then came a day when a strange occurrence happened that made the highest immortal beings of light quell with fear in their hearts. Barely perceptible it was, and to the untrained eye it was but nothing at all. But early on that overcast day, high upon a peak in somewhere in Ered Lithui, Gandalf the Gray sat upon his horse, Caildar. Surveying the intensity of the fire, which spewed from Mount Doom, he perceived that Sauron's eternal rage had somehow lessened. Spurring his horse, he galloped down the rocky slope, with all possible speed. For in that brief moment of dread, he discerned the danger of a new evil which was about to be unleashed upon the world, and he feared in his heart for all of Middle-Earth.
In the early hours of a bright summer morning, a lone girl came running down the barren pathway of the hidden mountain of Goldorma. Her breathing labored as she jumped nimbly over large stones set along the tiny path, but still she did not think to remove the sparkling silver mask that covered her face. The mask was set at the back of her head with many long strings of red garnets. Her long auburn hair was tied tightly to the garnet strings as well. To remove the mask at all would require cutting her hair off. She was dressed in red trousers overlapped by a long, white tunic that almost fell to her knees. Along her waist was a broad, leather belt with a silver sheath attached to each side. Each sheath contained a single, highly ornamented silver dagger. The knives bounced off her sides as she sped through the forest. She did not look behind her, and no fears of being chased enveloped her. Her urgency lay to a much more serious matter, and she had no time. Her name was Ishil, and she was a loyal servant of the Fendowan Order (Guardians of the Stone), a devoted warrior sworn to but one cause, to defend the ancient gem of Anor.
Past all remembered history the secrets of the Stone of Anor lay protected by the Fendowans. Each warrior vowed their life to the keeping of the stone, which was rumored to be a possible sister stone to the very Silmarils themselves. Long hidden from any eyes, even the highest of the elves were not positive of its existence, for all contact with the outside world was forbidden, lest the Fendowan, and therefore the stone, should be discovered. Rumors and myth prevailed of its impossible strength and magic. Though many searched for the secret mountain, few found it. The very power of the stone kept Goldorma (Mountain of the Fendowan) safely hidden from all eyes. This is not to say that people did not try. But those who did manage to find the secret Fendowan encampments were, without exception, found out and taken prisoner. They were bound and led to a small crack within a cliff wall. The luckless were then forced, by virtue of Fendowan law (and the Fendowan acknowledged no other law of the land, but their own), into a new ordeal: the stairway or outright death. It was a test of worthiness and courage, and all those who survived the elements and capture were subjected to it. All prisoners who dared the rite of the thousand stairs were told the same thing:
"At the end of this sacred stairway lies the treasure you seek. Emerge here with the Fendowan token in your hand and you will have life, treasures, and honor unimagined. But if you turn back halfway and emerge as a coward, you will die."
Many took this statement to mean "Emerge with the Stone of Anor in your possession", but they were sadly mistaken. None, not even the guardians themselves were ever allowed to remove the stone from its ancient resting place.
Disappearing into the blackness was a tiny 2000-foot flight of steps, carved into the living rock of the mountain. This was the only entrance and exit, and no less than fifty alternate stairways tangled the labyrinth as they descended in the twisting, turning darkness. No torches lit the passageway. To take the incorrect path might result in stepping off a cliff into an endless chasm, or perhaps falling into a pit of wooden spikes. All was death but for the one way. And in all of history, none but 10 took the correct route and were eyewitness to the stone's glory, only to be taken into servitude by the stone itself and made its guardians. It was said by the Fendowan that the stone chose them and guided them to it. As they stood awed and beguiled, the light of the Stone of Anor would pour forth and envelope their very thoughts and minds. In attaining the alter room and bearing witness to the Stone of Anor's immense powers, the hunter became protector. Then, bent low within the alter room, the few who succeeded were thus awarded the Fendowan tunic, daggers and in the presence of the stone, their mask was placed onto their face, never to be taken off again. Emerging once more into the brightness of daylight, their daggers in hand, the newest chosen warrior was then welcomed into the Fendowan ranks. Only a Fendowan was ever permitted to leave the cave alive, it was the law. There was no other way.
And so the endless vigil of the sect continued. Each Fendowan took their turn at descent into the blackness until the light of the alter room could be seen. The only entrance to this room was through a short 4 ft. doorway, from where 2 such Fendowan warriors kept a 24-hour vigil. To one the side of the alter, heaved into the rock were several vertical handmade cracks that disappeared into the ceiling. Below the cracks lay a tiny keystone, over which a Fendowan's hand rested at all times. If an attempt was ever made to remove the gem from the alter, the Fendowan guardians were sworn to pull the keystone from its resting place, resulting in a cave-in of half of the mountain on top of the room, thus preventing anyone from obtaining it. Only when one Fendowan appeared from the dark recesses of the passageway could another be relieved of their duty. The only relief from the stifling tiny space of the alter room was back into the blackness of the deadly stair.
And when the Fendowans were not standing guard, their entire energies were engaged in training for battle. Every Fendowan was said to be a master of blade and bow. They were stealthy and relentless. And when the subject of a new search for the stone was discussed by battle-hardened men in the small towns, and they talked of the great myth: that to the keeper of the stone came the riches of the world, women clutching onto their children would turn and quickly walk away. It was rumored that even talking of the stone or the sect would result in sickness or death. No one who had ever left to seek for the stone had ever returned. For untold time then, the stone lay quiet and safe on a golden alter, and it saw neither the cool moonlit nights nor the warmth of day.
Ishil pressed on. Springing through a babbling stream, water splashed into the air. She clawed her way up a hill to a long stone building with a thatched roof, which served as home to the Fendowan great warriors. These were of the highest rank amongst them, the bravest, the wisest, and the most deadly with a dagger. Two Fendowan women stood guard at the front door as she breathlessly ran past them. They did not attempt to stop her. They did not move, but only looked directly ahead. The business of a Fendowan warrior was not to be inquired after. Her devotion to her order was without question.
Once inside the building, Ishil sprinted down a cold and damp hallway, until she came to a set of large, heavy wooden doors. On either side of the doors were two more guards, dressed as Ishil, but with their silver daggers in their hands, crossed over their chests. However, Ishil was not detained here either. She flung the doors open and staggered into the room. The chamber was sparsely furnished, but at the same time, it was surprisingly pleasant. Several heavy tapestries covered the walls, depicting long forgotten battles. Neatly sewn at the center of each tapestry, was the shining stone, behind it, a line of 10 masked warriors, one arm and dagger raised to the stars, the other menacingly pointing a dagger directly at the onlooker. There were furs on the floor, and urns of herbs, and a small wooden bed in the corner. The whole of the space was warmed against the cold outside air by a roaring fire. Two women, with golden masks, fashioned as Ishil's, sat at a smallish round table. Both were dressed in white tunics and trousers, both with their own golden daggers sheathed at their sides. To the back of the room stood another Fendowan, dressed as Ishil, obediently holding a small basket of fruit in one hand and a small pitcher of water with the other.
For an instant, the two women paid no attention to the Ishil's intrusion. She stood there, saying nothing, trying to control her need for air. At last, Melune, the woman on the right, gazed up slowly at Ishil, who immediately fell to her knees, bowing her head. At first, Ishil did not know if she should speak or not. She waited for Melune to make a gesture or movement, but the high warrior returned only a hardened gaze at her, and said nothing.
Presently, the other woman, whose name was Kizea, and also a Fendowan master, stood up from her chair. Her eyes darted at Melune, and then rested back upon Ishil. She walked around the table until she stood before the breathless girl, who instantly moved backwards on her knees, she bowed so low that her nose nearly touched the floor.
"What news have you brought us Ishil?" she asked in a gentle voice. At last the girl felt she could heave air into her lungs. She breathed in deeply before speaking.
"The stone!" she cried, bending down even further. Almost hysterical, the girl began to sob, and then immediately choked back her outburst.
The woman bent down on one knee and gently touched the girl's trembling shoulder.
"What of the stone, Ishil? Tell me what has happened?" she said again. The frightened girl looked up into the woman's eyes, placing a sweaty, white hand upon her.
"Master Kizea, the stone is gone! It is stolen from the alter!"
The woman sat for a moment and gazed into the frightened girl's eyes. No hint of deception was there, and yet she was speaking of the impossible. Kizea felt a sense of guilt for even questioning Ishil's demeanor, but how could such a thing be? By now Melune was standing before them. She too bent down on one knee.
"You must tell us what has happened," Melune said in a serious tone, "How can the stone be gone?"
Ishil did not like looking at Melune, who had come to the order from years beyond count. Yet time meant so little to the Fendowan who served in privilege. No face of the Fendowan was ever revealed; such was the law. Yet Ishil often pondered over Melune face and her true age. Hidden beyond her golden, gem-laden mask were startling black eyes. Ishil was often frightened when conversing with the high warrior, for she never could perceive any white in Melune's eyes, only a vast blackness that penetrated Ishil's very being. When Melune was not guarding over the stone, she trained, as did every warrior. Neither arrow nor blade could pass even close to her body but that she could divert it or destroy it altogether. Like Kizea, Melune was small in stature, but fast beyond measure of the eye with her daggers. She possessed the wisdom of an age, yet the body and skill of a hardened warrior in her prime of life. Without question, Melune was perhaps the most skilled and quick of all of them, and certainly the most mysterious. Ishil gazed down and did not look up.
"Where are Karemwen and Codesea?" Kizea asked, "For they should have been in the alter room."
"Both dead, master," said Ishil. Her voice trembled and she kept her gaze to the floor.
"The keystone was not pulled! They were overtaken somehow. I do not know how. And the stone is gone!"
Kizea and Melune stood up, but Ishil remained on the floor, not knowing what to do. She feared the inevitable wrath of the high warriors at such grievous news, and thought her moment of death had come. Earlier in the day, Ishil had descended the stairs, as she always did, to relieve Karemwen of her duty. She only thought it odd when she perceived no light towards the end of the stairs. She entered the alter room, only to find the two guardians lifeless on the hard, cold stone in the pitch black of the tiny chamber.
A slight knock on the door momentarily distracted Melune. Another warrior, on her knees, beckoned the great warriors from their council. Melune said nothing, but stepped lightly outside to the front of the building where Karemwen and Codesea were only now being carried. Melune stood silent as their bodies were placed at her feet, all the Fendowan warriors then bent to one knee and waited. Melune moved to look over Karemwen, her bluing hands still clutching a silver dagger. Reaching out a slender hand, Melune pushed the dead girl's head from one side to the other. Her eye caught sight of something glimmering in a scant ray of sunlight that edged its way through the forest canopy. Moving aside the warrior's hair, Melune pulled a tiny dart from the girl's neck and examined it. Then she returned to the chamber where Kizea and Ishil waited.
"Ishil," Melune said finally.
"Master?"
"You may stand. Gather every warrior to the gate. Kizea and I will be out shortly."
"Yes, master."
The young girl rose and walked out quickly. The two guards now closed the creaking door shut, leaving Kizea and Melune inside. Melune waited patiently for the room to empty before she spoke. When the door was completely shut, Melune walked close to Kizea and held out the tiny needle that she had pulled from Karemwen's neck.
"This is how they were overtaken," Melune said solemnly, "Twas a poisoned dart. I am not sure what was used, but it worked fast enough that there was no time to pull the keystone from the wall."
Kizea scrutinized the tiny pin in her outstretched hand.
"I am suspecting one of our own has done this deed," Melune whispered. Kizea's head jerked up sharply.
"That is not possible," Kizea said, astonished, "I can believe that of no Fendowan."
Melune looked back at the door as if to make sure it was tightly shut before leaning closer to Kizea.
"The guardians were overtaken before they were aware of what happened. Only Karemwen had time to pull a single dagger before she was killed. Whoever did this knew well the labyrinth passageway, and was able to approach the guards. I suspect it was someone they knew, someone from within. Perhaps even Ishil."
Kizea walked away quickly shaking her head, as if she wished to hear no more.
"I tell you it is not possible. What purpose could they have in doing such an act?" Melune moved slowly to where Kizea stood and whispered again.
"You know as well as I the temptation. To the user of the stone comes the world."
Kizea's eyes shot up. Melune continued,
"The Fendowan are gathering at the gate. We must go and ascertain if anyone is missing. If all are present then perhaps the Anor stone is not far. It may be concealed."
"You are wrong, I tell you. It is not possible. I think perhaps it may have been a wizard or some other stranger with knowledge and good fortune to their side. Some new evil has descended upon us. Let us hurry my friend, every moment we tarry, the greater the risk to Middle-Earth."
"Come then," replied Melune, "Let us not waste precious time."
The two women walked quickly out to the great stone gate that hailed the entryway to the Fendowan compound. To the passing eye, it was but a stone crevice, veiled in ivy and forest mosses. However, on the opposite side of the entryway, there emerged a clearer pathway on the vast forest floor which led to the Fendowan houses, if indeed, they could be called houses. They were more like Hobbit houses really, some no more than a wooden doorway that led into the recesses of underground chambers. These were done more from necessity rather than from lack of skill. Each chamber led in some way (through underground pathways) to another so that all could be accessed. The only building then to stand aboveground for all to see, was the home for the high warriors. At a mere glance, the entire Fendowan camp looked no more than a mere cottage deep in the woods.
At last, Kizea and Melune stood at the great gate, surveying those Fendowan who had gathered. Present were Ishil, Rundien, Aldunen, Sasgal, Tragora and the only Fendowan man, Valnin. The man was, in fact, Kizea's half-brother. There was no law amongst the Fendowan declaring the order was solely for women, but to manage the labyrinth, one had to be, by necessity, physically small and yet powerful in stamina. Valnin was but half a hand's length taller than Kizea, and had taken his appointment as much a matter of devotion to his sister, as to guard the stone. This was not to say that Valnin did not take his position lightly; as with the others, he trained, he lived alone, and he took his vital role as a Fendowan to the utmost center of his heart. Kizea, being relived, remembered no past thing of her former life. But Valnin remembered all. And though Valnin offered to explain their former existence to his sister from time to time, Kizea expertly circumvented the issue, for now there was only the stone, and nothing else was of consequence to her.
Valnin and Kizea were, by far, the newest members to the Fendowan sect. As with many others, Valnin had heard the tales of the Stone of Anor's immense powers. But it was not until his sister's untimely death that he actively searched for the Fendowan mountain of Goldorma. So devoted to her he was, that he could not bear living in the world without her. Bearing his sister's body on his steed, Valnin ventured deep into the Misty Mountains and followed a single tale he had heard tell of the stone's location. Whilst in an unexpected company of elves, he had overheard them discussing the mythical pathway that led to the stone.
"In the Misty Mountains lies the pathway of golden light. Follow it, and there might be found the fabled stone."
He searched tirelessly, and just when he thought he would be forced to give up his quest and bear his sister away to her burial, he spied late one night a distant shining on an, overgrown and forgotten pathway. And in following it, he quickly found himself captured with knife and bow at his head. But in given a prisoner's choice, Valnin had happily accepted the thousand stairs, with one condition: he begged to bear with him his dead sister, and it was agreed. Down into the bleak recesses of the tunnel he went, dragging Kizea's lifeless body after him. He would stop and breathe and pray to the stone for salvation.
"I ask not to see your glory for my own sake, and nor would I take you from your appointed resting place. But I would humbly ask to see my sister alive again, for she is of the purest and bravest heart. Lead me to you, oh flame of Anor! Or let us both perish to the depths of oblivion!"
And after toiling some hours, the light of the alter room penetrated the blackness, and Valnin bowed low on his knees and begged once more of the Fendowan guardians to allow him to draw near to the stone with his sister's body. And so astonished were the guardians that he managed the stairs without mishap, that they granted his request. And as he drew close to the stone, it suddenly blazed a golden hue upon everyone present, and Valnin's sister opened her eyes, and her skin was shining and young again. Yet in receiving such a gift, a high price was exacted. Kizea knew not of her brother or any past thing of her life. All she knew was her dedication to the stone. And so Valnin and Kizea were brought into the Fendowan order, equal and honored.
However, it soon became clear among them that Kizea now possessed many new and powerful skills. And all knew, because of her new abilities, that she had been particularly favored by the stone. Yet Kizea was not the only one who had displayed such prowess. Melune also had been brought to life by the stone, long before any tale could be recalled of how this came about, and she too exhibited such skill and leadership. And so both she and Kizea were made high warriors of the sect, and all the Fendowan honored Kizea and Melune in their own rite.
Now there stood 6 warriors gathered, each bent on one knee to show respect to the leaders which now stood silently before them. All were accounted for. Kizea gazed at each mask, each set of eyes downcast, before she broke the silence.
"Karemwen and Codesea are dead," she began somberly, "And the stone of Anor is stolen from the alter." A small gasp rose up from several warriors.
"Has no one seen anything? Was there no forewarning?" Kizea asked. Each warrior looked at the other, until at last Valnin spoke.
"I don't know if I saw anything, great Kizea, perhaps it was nothing."
Melune's eyes rested upon Valnin and she walked directly up to him.
"What did you see? Speak now!"
Valnin lowered his gaze.
"I was gathering berries in yonder forest early in the morn, barely at daybreak, when I saw a Fendowan running through the forest."
Kizea walked up to her brother and knelt before him. Her reassuring presence was a relief to him.
"Who was it?" she asked.
"I could not tell," he replied earnestly, "I only thought it odd when I called out to them and they did not stop, but continued running. They headed northward, that is all I know."
Kizea stood up.
"Who then was in the wood near the thousand stair this morning?" Melune demanded. None answered.
Kizea motioned to Melune, who approached her.
"If this were a stranger who has come to us with great knowledge, they could have disguised themselves as one of us. We must embark to all ends of the forest at once!"
Melune eyed her for a moment through her shining mask. Kizea turned suddenly towards the group with the intent of a new address, but Melune stepped in front of her once again and leaned in to whisper.
"Let me go with my own sentry." Melune said, "There is yet a need to stay within the compound, for if the thief is among us now, then the stone may be nearby, and they may yet be discovered. I will take several with me and we will find the trail. It may indeed lead back to the compound."
A small gasp rose up within the ranks. For Melune to even suggest such a possibility was unthinkable. Kizea looked deeply into her black eyes. Her countenance betrayed no feeling of urgency or doubt, but only her strong will. But Melune was not addressing a mere pupil. Kizea thought of Melune as no more of a higher being than she thought of herself as one. They were on equal levels, and Kizea, in her own arrogance, took heed only of her own council. If Melune was resolute that Kizea and a company of the Fendowan should stay, Kizea was equally as resolute that ALL of them should endeavor to go. Kizea sidestepped past her friend.
"No," Kizea replied, "We must ALL go. This task falls to us all. It would be foolhardy to leave the stone so close to its keepers. If the thief knows the way through the labyrinth, so must they know the penalty for discovery. I believe the thief even now hastens to the end of the forest for more hospitable ground. For in the dark regions of Ryalan, we are the masters. Valnin has said the stranger headed north, but I think only a great fool would lead themselves away from the valley regions. We will not fair so well hunting our quarry in the surrounding territories."
She walked around the tall, dark Melune and faced the other Fendowan, who were yet bent down upon one knee, waiting for their commands. Melune eyed her slowly and then the others. They, all of them, listened intently as Kizea began to speak. Melune listened Kizea and with a sense of jealousy and admiration, for she truly was a commander. A small flush came to her face, and she pursed her lips. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, her anger subsided and she hinged upon all of the high Fendowan's words as well.
"We will divide and search the forest. With the stone's grace, we shall return it to the sacred alter before the sun sets in the West, and bring the thief to our justice." Kizea announced.
Several of the Fendowan glanced sideways at one another, and seemed puzzled by her words. When a warrior was accepted to the task of guarding the sacred stone of Anor, they did not venture outside of the woodlands of Ryalan again for the remainder of their lives. But then, the situation was desperate. The Stone of Anor had to be returned and the perpetrator punished, of this they were all certain.
"Aldunen, Ishil, Rundien," Kizea said sternly, "You shall accompany me."
The three Fendowan stood up immediately, each placing a hand on their daggers in a sign of devotion. But as Kizea turned to walk away, she halted and turned her head once more at the group.
"Valnin. You also shall accompany with me."
Underneath his silver mask, a smile came to her brother's face as he stood to his feet. The others remained on one knee, their heads bowed.
"Melune," Kizea said. The Fendowan master looked up at her counterpart, her black eyes seemingly staring at nothing. It was a look that Kizea had become accustomed to over the years, and she had always thought little of it. But now, Melune's blank lifeless eyes unsettled Kizea, for there was not the slightest bit of urgency or worry in Melune's countenance.
"Take these, the rest of our order into Ryalan. Search you to the West and North. I am for the South and East. Bid you good fortune in your quest, and may you find the Stone of Anor before the blackness of night descends onto the woods of Ryalan. One more thing, if you should find them first, I want the thieves brought before me alive."
"Be assured, great Kizea," Melune replied earnestly, her black eyes glistening. There seemed to be a touch of admiration in her voice. "By our journey's end, the Stone of Anor shall be in my very hand. But to bring the thieves back untouched will not be such an easy task. When they are found, they will surely know what awaits them and take their own lives."
"ALIVE, Melune!" Kizea repeated angrily, "Make no mistake!"
And the other Fendowans stared with much wonder and amazement when Melune nodded her head slightly to Kizea. Then Kizea placed a tiny hand on Melune's shoulder and her demeanor eased.
"Bid you good hunting, my friend," Kizea said, "The stone shall return to the alter, and the world will be safe once more."
Kizea turned and walked away, followed by her small entourage. Melune stood silently until Kizea and the others disappeared beyond the gate. Then she turned to the remaining Fendowan who awaited her orders, and she smiled at them all.
Then came a day when a strange occurrence happened that made the highest immortal beings of light quell with fear in their hearts. Barely perceptible it was, and to the untrained eye it was but nothing at all. But early on that overcast day, high upon a peak in somewhere in Ered Lithui, Gandalf the Gray sat upon his horse, Caildar. Surveying the intensity of the fire, which spewed from Mount Doom, he perceived that Sauron's eternal rage had somehow lessened. Spurring his horse, he galloped down the rocky slope, with all possible speed. For in that brief moment of dread, he discerned the danger of a new evil which was about to be unleashed upon the world, and he feared in his heart for all of Middle-Earth.
In the early hours of a bright summer morning, a lone girl came running down the barren pathway of the hidden mountain of Goldorma. Her breathing labored as she jumped nimbly over large stones set along the tiny path, but still she did not think to remove the sparkling silver mask that covered her face. The mask was set at the back of her head with many long strings of red garnets. Her long auburn hair was tied tightly to the garnet strings as well. To remove the mask at all would require cutting her hair off. She was dressed in red trousers overlapped by a long, white tunic that almost fell to her knees. Along her waist was a broad, leather belt with a silver sheath attached to each side. Each sheath contained a single, highly ornamented silver dagger. The knives bounced off her sides as she sped through the forest. She did not look behind her, and no fears of being chased enveloped her. Her urgency lay to a much more serious matter, and she had no time. Her name was Ishil, and she was a loyal servant of the Fendowan Order (Guardians of the Stone), a devoted warrior sworn to but one cause, to defend the ancient gem of Anor.
Past all remembered history the secrets of the Stone of Anor lay protected by the Fendowans. Each warrior vowed their life to the keeping of the stone, which was rumored to be a possible sister stone to the very Silmarils themselves. Long hidden from any eyes, even the highest of the elves were not positive of its existence, for all contact with the outside world was forbidden, lest the Fendowan, and therefore the stone, should be discovered. Rumors and myth prevailed of its impossible strength and magic. Though many searched for the secret mountain, few found it. The very power of the stone kept Goldorma (Mountain of the Fendowan) safely hidden from all eyes. This is not to say that people did not try. But those who did manage to find the secret Fendowan encampments were, without exception, found out and taken prisoner. They were bound and led to a small crack within a cliff wall. The luckless were then forced, by virtue of Fendowan law (and the Fendowan acknowledged no other law of the land, but their own), into a new ordeal: the stairway or outright death. It was a test of worthiness and courage, and all those who survived the elements and capture were subjected to it. All prisoners who dared the rite of the thousand stairs were told the same thing:
"At the end of this sacred stairway lies the treasure you seek. Emerge here with the Fendowan token in your hand and you will have life, treasures, and honor unimagined. But if you turn back halfway and emerge as a coward, you will die."
Many took this statement to mean "Emerge with the Stone of Anor in your possession", but they were sadly mistaken. None, not even the guardians themselves were ever allowed to remove the stone from its ancient resting place.
Disappearing into the blackness was a tiny 2000-foot flight of steps, carved into the living rock of the mountain. This was the only entrance and exit, and no less than fifty alternate stairways tangled the labyrinth as they descended in the twisting, turning darkness. No torches lit the passageway. To take the incorrect path might result in stepping off a cliff into an endless chasm, or perhaps falling into a pit of wooden spikes. All was death but for the one way. And in all of history, none but 10 took the correct route and were eyewitness to the stone's glory, only to be taken into servitude by the stone itself and made its guardians. It was said by the Fendowan that the stone chose them and guided them to it. As they stood awed and beguiled, the light of the Stone of Anor would pour forth and envelope their very thoughts and minds. In attaining the alter room and bearing witness to the Stone of Anor's immense powers, the hunter became protector. Then, bent low within the alter room, the few who succeeded were thus awarded the Fendowan tunic, daggers and in the presence of the stone, their mask was placed onto their face, never to be taken off again. Emerging once more into the brightness of daylight, their daggers in hand, the newest chosen warrior was then welcomed into the Fendowan ranks. Only a Fendowan was ever permitted to leave the cave alive, it was the law. There was no other way.
And so the endless vigil of the sect continued. Each Fendowan took their turn at descent into the blackness until the light of the alter room could be seen. The only entrance to this room was through a short 4 ft. doorway, from where 2 such Fendowan warriors kept a 24-hour vigil. To one the side of the alter, heaved into the rock were several vertical handmade cracks that disappeared into the ceiling. Below the cracks lay a tiny keystone, over which a Fendowan's hand rested at all times. If an attempt was ever made to remove the gem from the alter, the Fendowan guardians were sworn to pull the keystone from its resting place, resulting in a cave-in of half of the mountain on top of the room, thus preventing anyone from obtaining it. Only when one Fendowan appeared from the dark recesses of the passageway could another be relieved of their duty. The only relief from the stifling tiny space of the alter room was back into the blackness of the deadly stair.
And when the Fendowans were not standing guard, their entire energies were engaged in training for battle. Every Fendowan was said to be a master of blade and bow. They were stealthy and relentless. And when the subject of a new search for the stone was discussed by battle-hardened men in the small towns, and they talked of the great myth: that to the keeper of the stone came the riches of the world, women clutching onto their children would turn and quickly walk away. It was rumored that even talking of the stone or the sect would result in sickness or death. No one who had ever left to seek for the stone had ever returned. For untold time then, the stone lay quiet and safe on a golden alter, and it saw neither the cool moonlit nights nor the warmth of day.
Ishil pressed on. Springing through a babbling stream, water splashed into the air. She clawed her way up a hill to a long stone building with a thatched roof, which served as home to the Fendowan great warriors. These were of the highest rank amongst them, the bravest, the wisest, and the most deadly with a dagger. Two Fendowan women stood guard at the front door as she breathlessly ran past them. They did not attempt to stop her. They did not move, but only looked directly ahead. The business of a Fendowan warrior was not to be inquired after. Her devotion to her order was without question.
Once inside the building, Ishil sprinted down a cold and damp hallway, until she came to a set of large, heavy wooden doors. On either side of the doors were two more guards, dressed as Ishil, but with their silver daggers in their hands, crossed over their chests. However, Ishil was not detained here either. She flung the doors open and staggered into the room. The chamber was sparsely furnished, but at the same time, it was surprisingly pleasant. Several heavy tapestries covered the walls, depicting long forgotten battles. Neatly sewn at the center of each tapestry, was the shining stone, behind it, a line of 10 masked warriors, one arm and dagger raised to the stars, the other menacingly pointing a dagger directly at the onlooker. There were furs on the floor, and urns of herbs, and a small wooden bed in the corner. The whole of the space was warmed against the cold outside air by a roaring fire. Two women, with golden masks, fashioned as Ishil's, sat at a smallish round table. Both were dressed in white tunics and trousers, both with their own golden daggers sheathed at their sides. To the back of the room stood another Fendowan, dressed as Ishil, obediently holding a small basket of fruit in one hand and a small pitcher of water with the other.
For an instant, the two women paid no attention to the Ishil's intrusion. She stood there, saying nothing, trying to control her need for air. At last, Melune, the woman on the right, gazed up slowly at Ishil, who immediately fell to her knees, bowing her head. At first, Ishil did not know if she should speak or not. She waited for Melune to make a gesture or movement, but the high warrior returned only a hardened gaze at her, and said nothing.
Presently, the other woman, whose name was Kizea, and also a Fendowan master, stood up from her chair. Her eyes darted at Melune, and then rested back upon Ishil. She walked around the table until she stood before the breathless girl, who instantly moved backwards on her knees, she bowed so low that her nose nearly touched the floor.
"What news have you brought us Ishil?" she asked in a gentle voice. At last the girl felt she could heave air into her lungs. She breathed in deeply before speaking.
"The stone!" she cried, bending down even further. Almost hysterical, the girl began to sob, and then immediately choked back her outburst.
The woman bent down on one knee and gently touched the girl's trembling shoulder.
"What of the stone, Ishil? Tell me what has happened?" she said again. The frightened girl looked up into the woman's eyes, placing a sweaty, white hand upon her.
"Master Kizea, the stone is gone! It is stolen from the alter!"
The woman sat for a moment and gazed into the frightened girl's eyes. No hint of deception was there, and yet she was speaking of the impossible. Kizea felt a sense of guilt for even questioning Ishil's demeanor, but how could such a thing be? By now Melune was standing before them. She too bent down on one knee.
"You must tell us what has happened," Melune said in a serious tone, "How can the stone be gone?"
Ishil did not like looking at Melune, who had come to the order from years beyond count. Yet time meant so little to the Fendowan who served in privilege. No face of the Fendowan was ever revealed; such was the law. Yet Ishil often pondered over Melune face and her true age. Hidden beyond her golden, gem-laden mask were startling black eyes. Ishil was often frightened when conversing with the high warrior, for she never could perceive any white in Melune's eyes, only a vast blackness that penetrated Ishil's very being. When Melune was not guarding over the stone, she trained, as did every warrior. Neither arrow nor blade could pass even close to her body but that she could divert it or destroy it altogether. Like Kizea, Melune was small in stature, but fast beyond measure of the eye with her daggers. She possessed the wisdom of an age, yet the body and skill of a hardened warrior in her prime of life. Without question, Melune was perhaps the most skilled and quick of all of them, and certainly the most mysterious. Ishil gazed down and did not look up.
"Where are Karemwen and Codesea?" Kizea asked, "For they should have been in the alter room."
"Both dead, master," said Ishil. Her voice trembled and she kept her gaze to the floor.
"The keystone was not pulled! They were overtaken somehow. I do not know how. And the stone is gone!"
Kizea and Melune stood up, but Ishil remained on the floor, not knowing what to do. She feared the inevitable wrath of the high warriors at such grievous news, and thought her moment of death had come. Earlier in the day, Ishil had descended the stairs, as she always did, to relieve Karemwen of her duty. She only thought it odd when she perceived no light towards the end of the stairs. She entered the alter room, only to find the two guardians lifeless on the hard, cold stone in the pitch black of the tiny chamber.
A slight knock on the door momentarily distracted Melune. Another warrior, on her knees, beckoned the great warriors from their council. Melune said nothing, but stepped lightly outside to the front of the building where Karemwen and Codesea were only now being carried. Melune stood silent as their bodies were placed at her feet, all the Fendowan warriors then bent to one knee and waited. Melune moved to look over Karemwen, her bluing hands still clutching a silver dagger. Reaching out a slender hand, Melune pushed the dead girl's head from one side to the other. Her eye caught sight of something glimmering in a scant ray of sunlight that edged its way through the forest canopy. Moving aside the warrior's hair, Melune pulled a tiny dart from the girl's neck and examined it. Then she returned to the chamber where Kizea and Ishil waited.
"Ishil," Melune said finally.
"Master?"
"You may stand. Gather every warrior to the gate. Kizea and I will be out shortly."
"Yes, master."
The young girl rose and walked out quickly. The two guards now closed the creaking door shut, leaving Kizea and Melune inside. Melune waited patiently for the room to empty before she spoke. When the door was completely shut, Melune walked close to Kizea and held out the tiny needle that she had pulled from Karemwen's neck.
"This is how they were overtaken," Melune said solemnly, "Twas a poisoned dart. I am not sure what was used, but it worked fast enough that there was no time to pull the keystone from the wall."
Kizea scrutinized the tiny pin in her outstretched hand.
"I am suspecting one of our own has done this deed," Melune whispered. Kizea's head jerked up sharply.
"That is not possible," Kizea said, astonished, "I can believe that of no Fendowan."
Melune looked back at the door as if to make sure it was tightly shut before leaning closer to Kizea.
"The guardians were overtaken before they were aware of what happened. Only Karemwen had time to pull a single dagger before she was killed. Whoever did this knew well the labyrinth passageway, and was able to approach the guards. I suspect it was someone they knew, someone from within. Perhaps even Ishil."
Kizea walked away quickly shaking her head, as if she wished to hear no more.
"I tell you it is not possible. What purpose could they have in doing such an act?" Melune moved slowly to where Kizea stood and whispered again.
"You know as well as I the temptation. To the user of the stone comes the world."
Kizea's eyes shot up. Melune continued,
"The Fendowan are gathering at the gate. We must go and ascertain if anyone is missing. If all are present then perhaps the Anor stone is not far. It may be concealed."
"You are wrong, I tell you. It is not possible. I think perhaps it may have been a wizard or some other stranger with knowledge and good fortune to their side. Some new evil has descended upon us. Let us hurry my friend, every moment we tarry, the greater the risk to Middle-Earth."
"Come then," replied Melune, "Let us not waste precious time."
The two women walked quickly out to the great stone gate that hailed the entryway to the Fendowan compound. To the passing eye, it was but a stone crevice, veiled in ivy and forest mosses. However, on the opposite side of the entryway, there emerged a clearer pathway on the vast forest floor which led to the Fendowan houses, if indeed, they could be called houses. They were more like Hobbit houses really, some no more than a wooden doorway that led into the recesses of underground chambers. These were done more from necessity rather than from lack of skill. Each chamber led in some way (through underground pathways) to another so that all could be accessed. The only building then to stand aboveground for all to see, was the home for the high warriors. At a mere glance, the entire Fendowan camp looked no more than a mere cottage deep in the woods.
At last, Kizea and Melune stood at the great gate, surveying those Fendowan who had gathered. Present were Ishil, Rundien, Aldunen, Sasgal, Tragora and the only Fendowan man, Valnin. The man was, in fact, Kizea's half-brother. There was no law amongst the Fendowan declaring the order was solely for women, but to manage the labyrinth, one had to be, by necessity, physically small and yet powerful in stamina. Valnin was but half a hand's length taller than Kizea, and had taken his appointment as much a matter of devotion to his sister, as to guard the stone. This was not to say that Valnin did not take his position lightly; as with the others, he trained, he lived alone, and he took his vital role as a Fendowan to the utmost center of his heart. Kizea, being relived, remembered no past thing of her former life. But Valnin remembered all. And though Valnin offered to explain their former existence to his sister from time to time, Kizea expertly circumvented the issue, for now there was only the stone, and nothing else was of consequence to her.
Valnin and Kizea were, by far, the newest members to the Fendowan sect. As with many others, Valnin had heard the tales of the Stone of Anor's immense powers. But it was not until his sister's untimely death that he actively searched for the Fendowan mountain of Goldorma. So devoted to her he was, that he could not bear living in the world without her. Bearing his sister's body on his steed, Valnin ventured deep into the Misty Mountains and followed a single tale he had heard tell of the stone's location. Whilst in an unexpected company of elves, he had overheard them discussing the mythical pathway that led to the stone.
"In the Misty Mountains lies the pathway of golden light. Follow it, and there might be found the fabled stone."
He searched tirelessly, and just when he thought he would be forced to give up his quest and bear his sister away to her burial, he spied late one night a distant shining on an, overgrown and forgotten pathway. And in following it, he quickly found himself captured with knife and bow at his head. But in given a prisoner's choice, Valnin had happily accepted the thousand stairs, with one condition: he begged to bear with him his dead sister, and it was agreed. Down into the bleak recesses of the tunnel he went, dragging Kizea's lifeless body after him. He would stop and breathe and pray to the stone for salvation.
"I ask not to see your glory for my own sake, and nor would I take you from your appointed resting place. But I would humbly ask to see my sister alive again, for she is of the purest and bravest heart. Lead me to you, oh flame of Anor! Or let us both perish to the depths of oblivion!"
And after toiling some hours, the light of the alter room penetrated the blackness, and Valnin bowed low on his knees and begged once more of the Fendowan guardians to allow him to draw near to the stone with his sister's body. And so astonished were the guardians that he managed the stairs without mishap, that they granted his request. And as he drew close to the stone, it suddenly blazed a golden hue upon everyone present, and Valnin's sister opened her eyes, and her skin was shining and young again. Yet in receiving such a gift, a high price was exacted. Kizea knew not of her brother or any past thing of her life. All she knew was her dedication to the stone. And so Valnin and Kizea were brought into the Fendowan order, equal and honored.
However, it soon became clear among them that Kizea now possessed many new and powerful skills. And all knew, because of her new abilities, that she had been particularly favored by the stone. Yet Kizea was not the only one who had displayed such prowess. Melune also had been brought to life by the stone, long before any tale could be recalled of how this came about, and she too exhibited such skill and leadership. And so both she and Kizea were made high warriors of the sect, and all the Fendowan honored Kizea and Melune in their own rite.
Now there stood 6 warriors gathered, each bent on one knee to show respect to the leaders which now stood silently before them. All were accounted for. Kizea gazed at each mask, each set of eyes downcast, before she broke the silence.
"Karemwen and Codesea are dead," she began somberly, "And the stone of Anor is stolen from the alter." A small gasp rose up from several warriors.
"Has no one seen anything? Was there no forewarning?" Kizea asked. Each warrior looked at the other, until at last Valnin spoke.
"I don't know if I saw anything, great Kizea, perhaps it was nothing."
Melune's eyes rested upon Valnin and she walked directly up to him.
"What did you see? Speak now!"
Valnin lowered his gaze.
"I was gathering berries in yonder forest early in the morn, barely at daybreak, when I saw a Fendowan running through the forest."
Kizea walked up to her brother and knelt before him. Her reassuring presence was a relief to him.
"Who was it?" she asked.
"I could not tell," he replied earnestly, "I only thought it odd when I called out to them and they did not stop, but continued running. They headed northward, that is all I know."
Kizea stood up.
"Who then was in the wood near the thousand stair this morning?" Melune demanded. None answered.
Kizea motioned to Melune, who approached her.
"If this were a stranger who has come to us with great knowledge, they could have disguised themselves as one of us. We must embark to all ends of the forest at once!"
Melune eyed her for a moment through her shining mask. Kizea turned suddenly towards the group with the intent of a new address, but Melune stepped in front of her once again and leaned in to whisper.
"Let me go with my own sentry." Melune said, "There is yet a need to stay within the compound, for if the thief is among us now, then the stone may be nearby, and they may yet be discovered. I will take several with me and we will find the trail. It may indeed lead back to the compound."
A small gasp rose up within the ranks. For Melune to even suggest such a possibility was unthinkable. Kizea looked deeply into her black eyes. Her countenance betrayed no feeling of urgency or doubt, but only her strong will. But Melune was not addressing a mere pupil. Kizea thought of Melune as no more of a higher being than she thought of herself as one. They were on equal levels, and Kizea, in her own arrogance, took heed only of her own council. If Melune was resolute that Kizea and a company of the Fendowan should stay, Kizea was equally as resolute that ALL of them should endeavor to go. Kizea sidestepped past her friend.
"No," Kizea replied, "We must ALL go. This task falls to us all. It would be foolhardy to leave the stone so close to its keepers. If the thief knows the way through the labyrinth, so must they know the penalty for discovery. I believe the thief even now hastens to the end of the forest for more hospitable ground. For in the dark regions of Ryalan, we are the masters. Valnin has said the stranger headed north, but I think only a great fool would lead themselves away from the valley regions. We will not fair so well hunting our quarry in the surrounding territories."
She walked around the tall, dark Melune and faced the other Fendowan, who were yet bent down upon one knee, waiting for their commands. Melune eyed her slowly and then the others. They, all of them, listened intently as Kizea began to speak. Melune listened Kizea and with a sense of jealousy and admiration, for she truly was a commander. A small flush came to her face, and she pursed her lips. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, her anger subsided and she hinged upon all of the high Fendowan's words as well.
"We will divide and search the forest. With the stone's grace, we shall return it to the sacred alter before the sun sets in the West, and bring the thief to our justice." Kizea announced.
Several of the Fendowan glanced sideways at one another, and seemed puzzled by her words. When a warrior was accepted to the task of guarding the sacred stone of Anor, they did not venture outside of the woodlands of Ryalan again for the remainder of their lives. But then, the situation was desperate. The Stone of Anor had to be returned and the perpetrator punished, of this they were all certain.
"Aldunen, Ishil, Rundien," Kizea said sternly, "You shall accompany me."
The three Fendowan stood up immediately, each placing a hand on their daggers in a sign of devotion. But as Kizea turned to walk away, she halted and turned her head once more at the group.
"Valnin. You also shall accompany with me."
Underneath his silver mask, a smile came to her brother's face as he stood to his feet. The others remained on one knee, their heads bowed.
"Melune," Kizea said. The Fendowan master looked up at her counterpart, her black eyes seemingly staring at nothing. It was a look that Kizea had become accustomed to over the years, and she had always thought little of it. But now, Melune's blank lifeless eyes unsettled Kizea, for there was not the slightest bit of urgency or worry in Melune's countenance.
"Take these, the rest of our order into Ryalan. Search you to the West and North. I am for the South and East. Bid you good fortune in your quest, and may you find the Stone of Anor before the blackness of night descends onto the woods of Ryalan. One more thing, if you should find them first, I want the thieves brought before me alive."
"Be assured, great Kizea," Melune replied earnestly, her black eyes glistening. There seemed to be a touch of admiration in her voice. "By our journey's end, the Stone of Anor shall be in my very hand. But to bring the thieves back untouched will not be such an easy task. When they are found, they will surely know what awaits them and take their own lives."
"ALIVE, Melune!" Kizea repeated angrily, "Make no mistake!"
And the other Fendowans stared with much wonder and amazement when Melune nodded her head slightly to Kizea. Then Kizea placed a tiny hand on Melune's shoulder and her demeanor eased.
"Bid you good hunting, my friend," Kizea said, "The stone shall return to the alter, and the world will be safe once more."
Kizea turned and walked away, followed by her small entourage. Melune stood silently until Kizea and the others disappeared beyond the gate. Then she turned to the remaining Fendowan who awaited her orders, and she smiled at them all.