Author's Note:
This second chapter begins to set the tone for the struggle ahead. it also gives a different perspective on Gandalf from the enemy's POV and fills in a little of what happens before Sam and Frodo wake up in Ithilien. Hope you like it.
Mythwin floated through time, dreaming of her first meeting with Sauron the Great. He was not called Sauron then. His name was Mairon. He was of the Maia, strong and dedicated to order. She could recall the first time she saw him, there at his forge, great muscles heaving as he helped to craft items of wonder and power. It had been so long ago, she didn't remember why she fell so hard. He was certainly a handsome man, but she'd never cared for outer beauty, her own or any others. It was Mairon's spirit that won her heart. His shining eyes, piercing through every pretense, every barrier, looking deep into her soul and seeing what she laid bare for no one. She loved him, yes she could admit that now that he was gone, she loved Mairon.
"But he is gone," the thought shocked her to consciousness. The wind swept her hair behind in a dark morass of curls. Her pale skin seemed paler. "Am I dead?" she asked, a faint glimmer of hope as she focused her vision. Is my Mairon here somewhere? The thought brought her to, fully awake now. The ground far below whisked by, like the scroll of an artist, flashing scene after scene of drab fields of decay, barren rocks and desolating brown and yellow tundra. She blinked her eyes, getting them used to the rush of wind buffeting her face. She was used to riding her fellbeast at great heights and at great speed. She adjusted quickly.
Mythwin twisted her shape, trying to see what held her. Great talons gripped her tighter, squeezing with terrible force. For a brief moment she panicked. Was she a captive of the accursed eagles? She shook her head, the beast didn't smell like an eagle or any other living beast on Middle Earth. After a moment of confusion came recognition, she didn't need to look up to confirm, it was her faithful fellbeast. She was alive and it had saved her. Perhaps the creature did deserve a name.
Mythwin wasn't sure if she should be grateful or not though. She wanted to be with her love. Yet she was glad to be alive. All their plans were in tatters now. The Black Tower was no more, the ring destroyed, Sauron would never return. What a mistake it had been to create the accursed ring at all. To pour his power into it. It gave him strength, but in the end made him vulnerable like nothing else ever could. Sauron's Bane she would name the ring, for it truly was his downfall.
Mythwin closed her eyes, letting tears flow. She had not cried in centuries, but she wept now as if making up for time. When the tears would no longer come Mythwin allowed herself to calm, a small sob now and then the only evidence of her suffering. She still lived, and as long as she lived, so did Sauron through her. Perhaps there was even a way to bring him back. He had died before.
Her fellbeast bellowed, straining to push its pace. Where was it taking her? She looked up, peering forward against the rush of wind. The rising sun made it almost impossible to see, but she thought she caught a glimpse of eagles wings many fathoms ahead. Could it be true? Had her steed followed the very eagles who held the two children in their wicked talons? She wanted to call down lightning, release her power on their fragile wings, but her power wouldn't come. With Sauron gone she had nothing. She might as well have been a mortal.
The fellbeast suddenly slowed, then dived for a stand of trees far below. "Don't stop!" she shouted up at the creature. "Take me to them so that I might exact my revenge." With her farsight she could see the two children nestled in the talons of two great eagles and there on the back of the largest, his white hair blowing in the wind was the object of all her hatred, Gandalf the Grey. She wanted him right then, she cared not for her own life, the grey pilgrim must die. Preferably a horrible death drawn out over years of torture, but barring that, a quick death by her hand.
"Hold your pace!" She cried to her fellbeast, but the creature continued to slow, heading for a copse of trees rushing up to meet them. She was about to release an epitaph of curses at the creature when, looking forward, she noticed that the eagles too were slowing, circling down toward earth. If her beast hadn't acted, they would have been seen.
The beast hovered just above the ground, releasing her gently to the earth before setting down just next to her. She watched the creature as it watched her. Fellbeasts were never known for their loyalty, they did not love their masters, they were beaten into submission by them. At best it could be said they had a grudging respect for their rider. This fellbeast had shown what could almost be considered a tenderness towards her. She stared into the eyes of the beast. Something had changed. Her mind tried to puzzle it out, but not too long. She had a mission to perform now. The secrets of fellbeasts would have to wait for another day. Before leaving she did pause for a brief instant.
"Thank you," was all she said but looking up at her beast she almost thought it smiled at her. Considering its teeth and serpentlike appearance it looked more like a snarl than a smile but nevertheless it was a smile. Mythwin took a staggering step back. Something had definitely changed. "Stay here," she commanded. The beast nodded its long head and crashed to the ground, curling up its wings around it to rest.
As Mythwin crept through the trees in the direction of the landing spot for the still circling eagles she put all thoughts of fellbeasts out of her mind. She was on a mission now, in her element, on the hunt. Her prey would be landing just ahead soon. She had just a few minutes to surprise them. Gandalf would die first, then the children would suffer. Oh how they would howl for destroying Sauron's bane.
Mythwin could move at very fast speeds when she wished, so she moved from cover of tree to tree, spanning several miles in less than minutes. She stopped underneath a large oak, with new shoots of leaves sprouting on all of its once dead branches. Nature itself seemed to be celebrating the fall of Sauron.
From underneath the oak Mythwin spied a sight that made her heart sink. An encampment, as large as the army that had attacked the black gate waited for the descending eagles. A curious flag flew from the topmost pole in the center. Black with a silver winged crown over a white tree with five white stars. It fluttered in the wind majestically. She'd heard the reports from the few captains who had returned from the disaster on the fields of Pelennor that the king had come unlooked for from the south on the fleet of Umbar. But to see it up close, flying majestically in the wind gave her goose bumps. She wished she could set it aflame right then, but her mystical powers had died with Sauron. She needed to keep her temper in check. Patience was her greatest ally now. Her revenge would not come swiftly, but that would make it all the more sweet.
The eagles were almost on the ground now and a great crowd gathered in the center of camp, waiting for their arrival. Even the guards had left their posts to await the arrival of their heroes. Mythwin used this to her advantage, slipping into the camp, eventually mingling with the crowd as they cheered the arrival of the children and the grey rider.
A great roar erupted from the crowd as the eagles set one then the other of the children down. They were both unconscious, gaunt and looked near death. One had an obvious wound on his hand, hastily bandaged but still dropping now and then a bit of blood. They were dirty, their skins burned from too much sun. They were a filthy mess and yet the crowd cheered. Mythwin pushed through, inching closer. She wanted to see these heroes of men. Perhaps she could discover what power they had to walk through Mordor right up to the forge of Sammath Naur and destroy Sauron's Bane. How did they escape its allure? Mairon had placed a powerful protection upon the ring. It would not allow a weak minded child to cast it into the fiery abyss. What special quality allowed these children to do the impossible?
As Mythwin inched forward the crowd cheered anew as Gandalf the Grey leaped from the back of an eagle to the ground, but this was not Gandlaf the grey, this was Gandalf the White. The glory of his visage hurt her eyes, shining a light into her soul that burned with more than the sun. This light exposed her for what she was, an agent of darkness and evil. Mythwin recoiled in fear. She could not hope to slay the wizard on her own. His glory would burn her before she closed within a dozen steps.
The light of the white wizard only seemed to effect her. The crowd surged forward, eager to touch the him and bask in his brightness. The wizard shook off the adoration and gently lifted the injured child into his arms, cradling him like a babe, while instructing a guard to do the same with the other. In an instant they were whisked away into the largest tent in the camp. Away from the crowd, away from Mythwin and her dark designs.