Writer's Notes - We're introducing the characters bit by bit to hopefully get you to know them a bit better. Imagine Featur as an angtsy anime/manga kind of guy.

The Forging of the Court

Ardana

With her ebony hair tied in a pony tail, Ardana sat within the council chamber on the ninth floor of the Citadel. The massive construction project had taken several decades, but the fruits of labor were beginning to show. Walls of smooth, black stone with veins of gold encased the Seer in her studies.

We have come very far in so short a time. My mission for the Dark Lord is taking shape. Time and patience will be our allies.

In a circle around the Seer, eleven other thrones circled a central octagonal table forged of unmarred obsidian and each had its own, unique table. Ardana's throne was carved of black marble and was solid and blocky in design. However, this did not offset the throne's comfort as the plush maroon upholstery enveloped her like cotton. Before her throne was a smooth polished table of laen glass, tinted a translucent smoky black. Above her head was an iris in the ceiling that allowed starlight in, bathing the room in a warm glow.

She smiled, satisfied that things were going very well. Clad in his black robes, Valmorgûl, dubbed the Magician, sat upon his own throne as a floating quill took notes of their meeting on his transparent laen table.

Ardana stood and walked across the polished black floor. "As prescribed by the Dark Lord, I now have enough members to create a court. His inspiration has given me some bold ideas of how to organize it: There will be four groups, or suits, representing the major elements of Fire, Earth, Water, and Air," she said airily as the quill scribed her words. "These suits will be ruled by the 'Powers', composed of myself, Morthaur, you, and Morfuin."

The Magician nodded with a sense of confidence as he twirled the ringlets of his blond hair. "I am honored, M'Lady," he said. His talent for wielding Essence and his reputation for cruelty had earned him a high place on the Court. Ardana smiled at him and he returned the gaze.

I see the lust in him…the lust for power. Valmorgûl must know that my heart is already given to the Dark Lord and he is a jealous lover.

Breaking eye contact, she continued, "Each suit will have a hold dedicated to its purpose. We now have many dedicated smiths and miners who could labor in the creation of these fortresses." The Lady turned to look out of one of the long windows from the Citadel. "Where is Morthaur? I sensed his return."

"Indeed, he awaits your summons, M'Lady."

Ardana drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing her energy. Through the power of her mind, she mentally summoned Morthaur for the chamber. I hope he has brought good news. I am anxious to hear if the Master has approved of me plan and the organization behind it.

In a buzz of energy, Morthaur materialized behind his throne. His silver eyes shone brightly beneath his coal black hair, which matched his black robes, trimmed in silver. He bowed before Ardana. "Lady, I know you have been expecting me. I bring greetings from our master and excellent news," he said, taking a breath for dramatic purposes.

Ardana nodded, bidding him to continue. Morthaur took a moment to step around and sit upon his throne. He bore two sacks and laid them on the black table in the center of the room. Opening one, he removed several decks of cards. "The Master approves of your plan and took the time to create these decks for you. Their powers are awesome. There will be a deck for all our major members," he told her. "We will be able to channel power directly from the master."

Ardana was ecstatic and her face lit up like that of a little girl's. She silently gave praise to Morgoth - with his blessings she could not fail. Holding out her hand one of the decks flew to her grasp. She examined each of the 21 cards fashioned of a smooth white substance with a flat finish. The cards were large, but light and beautifully executed in color and detail. She withdrew the card with her likeness and gazed at it lovingly. She noted that it had the number 'III' on it and it was titled, 'The Lady.' Next to that card, she laid the number 'I', Valmorgûl the Magician, and the number 'IV', Morthaur, the Lord.

The Lord nodded his approval and opened the second sack, withdrewing the contents. Ardana looked up and the deck of cards that she had held so lovingly in her hands fell to the floor, scattering.

Morthaur smiled petulantly as he laid eight black crystals upon the table. "I knew these would get your attention," he said as he spread them out for her to see. Large, the size of a fist, they seemed to devour light. Ardana gasped, realizing what Morthaur had brought. They were gems, crafted by Fëanor himself. These were some of the gems that Morgoth had stolen from Formenos and fed to the demon Ungoliant. The gems had once been brilliant and spectacular, but now were warped. However, they still held great power.

As Ardana and Valmorgûl marveled, Morthaur continued, "The Dark Lord theorizes that these gems hold the power to destroy the Sun and Moon. However, the power of the gems must be released simultaneously while both orbs are together in the heavens. Also, there must be a sufficient catalyst to unleash the power of the gems."

He twirled one of the crystals in his hand and Ardana could sense a chill from them. Morthaur then looked her in the eye. "We consulted Morthrog the Seer, however, he was unable to divine a proper catalyst. We must make this knowledge our top priority," Morthaur informed her.

By now, Ardana's composure was gone. She rushed around the table and held the gems in her arms, weeping with unholy joy. "Truly, I hold the Dark Lord's favor."

With a wave of her hand, the scattered cards reassembled and floated to her hand. She gently placed them in a silken purse and tucked them in her sleeve. Then, she gathered the cursed stones and returned them to the sack. "Come, we must put our thought to this question of the catalyst. We will consult the heavens and the stars shall show us the way."

Valmorgûl went to a panel on the black wall and turned a switch. Eight pillars that flanked the room, along with the thrones and the table, began to float upward, disappearing into the ceiling. The iris at the apex of the ceiling then shut, closing off the light of the Moon and stars.

They walked together and down one level to the Council Lounge. Ardana stepped out onto plush blue carpet and sat in one of the luxurious chairs, made from Mallorn wood far to the North. A servant opened one of the glass cabinets and retrieved a bottle of spirits and poured several drinks. Ardana's goblet floated to her hand as Morthaur and Valmorgûl took their seats.

"What news from the North?" asked the Lady.

Morthaur's characteristically sullen expression returned, his face pinched up with his lip slightly curled. "The news is dire there, M'Lady. Fingolfin, the High King of the Noldor, continues to lay siege to the Dark Lord at Angband and our comings and goings there are fraught with danger. Since the Third Battle, the Dagor Aglareb, the Noldor hold the lands of Beleriand and our minions have been beaten and scattered by the fury of Fingolfin."

"Fingolfin…." Ardana mused out loud. "A mighty warrior…none could stand against his sword, not even Fëanor."

"Indeed…should Angband fall, Fingolfin would surely come here and gain the allegiance of the Three. All our work would be for naught."

The Lady fixed him with a piercing gaze and Morthaur shuddered. It was said that her eyes were unnerving, like black pools against her deathly pale skin as one could not differentiate the pupils from the irises. "Do not doubt the Dark Lord or our task. The Noldor's attention to the matters in Beleriand far to the North fills out purposes. We are free to do as we please here in the South."

Morthaur bowed contritely. "I meant no disrespect to the Dark Lord. I fulfill his purposes." He knew it would be useless to caution her on matters such as this. Her fanaticism for the task was without end.

"As do we all, My Lord. Do you not wish for these bright and offending orbs in the sky to be ruined so that the Elves may once again enjoy the stars unsullied?"

Morthaur raised an eyebrow. "I do indeed, M'Lady."

"Then we shall destroy the Sun and Moon that so obscures our beloved stars."

"So be it."

Ardana turned away and let the fire of her quest fill her heart. Her first patron, the Vala Varda, would thank her when her stars were the sole occupants of the heavens once more.

They are only misguided, she thought. Our master will show them the truth.

Lesh-Y

Deep in the subterranean hold of Ithilkir, the powerful demon, Lesh Y, passed his hand over the new forge he had created and a white flame burst forth. Standing over seven feet in height, he cut an intimidating figure. His golden eyes and red skin belied his otherworldly nature and his leopardskin kilt and bald pate lent him a savage appearance.

With a deep breath, he stepped back to admire his work. Within the hall, Elven smiths were bringing in tools and raw materials. The Noldorin smith, Laris, stood at his side, admiring the progress on the smithy, a great octagonal room for the forging of weapons. In the northwest sector, Dwarves assembled a hotforge for the working of metals. Mithril ingots were piled to the ceiling, awaiting a master's hand. In the northeast sector, a coldforge stood, ready to work the volcanic glass called Laen, which was harder than steel and could hold a razors edge. A tool area and another hotforge rounded out the smithy.

"There will be much work to do here, Laris," the demon said in his unearthly voice. "Deep in the jungles of this land we call Ardor; the mines have yielded much precious metal. The discovery Mithril here will give impetus to my requests to improve the site."

Laris watched as Elves and Dwarves worked together to install the equipment that would build their empire. "Rilia, the Mistress of Naurlindol, will make that decision, but I am confident that your logic will prevail. I am astounded that you were able to recruit Dwarves as well. They are notorious for their mistrust of others," the Elf said, speaking about the Children of Aulë the Smith.

The demon raised an eyebrow. "The Dwarves have a great love of forging and creating and were easily swayed by my demonstration of skill and promises of knowledge. Whatever their shortcomings, the Dwarves are hardy, enduring great suffering that would easily kill any Elf," he said with a smirk toward Laris.

The Elf grunted, but made no other display of emotion. "Well, they also have incredible skill at the forge, creating items of great beauty and power. They seem to take to Ithilkir readily, thriving in this underground environment."

And indeed, they would serve Lesh Y well. Soon the sound of hammer on metal would echo the halls for another fifty centuries.

Rilia

Miles to the South, work was progressing on Naurlindol, the Mountain of Fiery Pools. This was to be the fortress of Rilia and home to the Suit of Staves. It was a complex of tunnels and halls of dark grandeur situated on an active volcano contained by the magic of Rilia.

The Sorceress, as she was now called, stood, looking out over the flowing magma. She leaned onto the polished indigo stone of the window ledge, feeling the warmth of the inferno. The dancing glow of the fiery pits reflected off of her fair complexion. She was tall, standing at six feet and her tawny amber eyes shone beneath her dark red hair. Her red and orange robes were cut to look as though she were on fire, rippling as she moved.

The Mistress of Fire looked back to a lithe woman of Sindarin descent. "Play us a song, Linsûl."

The bard brushed back her wavy blonde locks and leaned against plush cushions to pick up her harp. Luxuries beyond imagining filled Rilia's chamber, but the Sindarin paid them no mind. Linsûl was originally one of the Arana people and had once served the Three. However, her dark side had been tapped by Rilia and the promise of power prevailed. Her enchanted songs were now used to deceive, delude, and even to kill.

Linsûl plucked the harp with graceful fingers, bringing the instrument to life. Beautiful, flowing tones echoed in the halls, a juxtaposition to the infernal setting. Fountains of lava shot up past the windows, scattering over the mystical shield that preserved the halls of Naurlindol.

"Magnificent, is it not," proclaimed the Mistress of Fire, proudly waving her hand at the fiery kingdom that she had created. "The knowledge that the Dark Lord has instilled me with has paid dividends."

Linsûl yawned. "You Noldor…always in a quest for power and knowledge. We Sindar know how to enjoy life and appreciate the wonders of nature." That was ever the burden of the Noldor, to seek knowledge and to master the things around them – it was the undoing of Fëanor, the mightiest of the Noldor.

Rilia snorted, turning her nose up in a characteristic display of aloofness. "Remind me why I keep you around."

"I'll let my harp answer that," the bard said with a seductive smile.

"One day, I may forget," the Sorceress said coldly in contrast to the raging fires beyond the window. She turned and her gray wooden staff flew to her hand. She strode across the deep carpet and her robes fluttered like the flames of the volcano outside. "Continue playing. I shall return soon."

Linsûl nodded, never missing a note.

Rilia departed the room, past two Elven guards. They bowed low before the Sorceress, but she merely waved her hand at them. She descended a wide staircase cast in orange glass until she arrived in rough-hewn tunnels, excavated by orc miners. Several of the beasts scrambled away at the sight of the Mistress.

Pathetic beasts…why must I endure their company? I must secure some of those Dwarves from Lesh-Y. I hear that they are much more efficient…and cleaner. I do not know what the Dark Lord sees in these orcs beyond the fact that they are his creation.

Rilia turned her chin up as she strode past the fawning orcs and walked deeper into the inferno. A red glow danced off of the wall, but Rilia seemed immune to the heat. She boldly walked into a massive cavern filled with flowing lava. Choking vapors swirled about the cavern, but the Mistress of Fire was unfazed. She walked across a long, narrow, bridge to a central platform, cut in an octagonal pattern. Eight black stone columns rose up from a dias, surrounding a throne of black marble. Golden veins lined the throne, glowing with red light from the magma.

The Sorceress went to the throne and with a wave of her hand, a lever on the arm rest moved. "Do not be impatient, my Durclax. I know you desire my scent."

She crossed over another bridge and a massive metal door parted to let her pass. Down a short tunnel, her Durclax awaited – a horrible winged beast, part dragon, part lizard, it shrieked its delight at her approach. Razor sharp fangs filled its maw and its six-inch claws dug into the soft, volcanic soil. Rilia cooed and stroked Durclax's gray hide. She pulled a saddle from a rack and placed it lovingly over the creature's back. "Come, my friend, let us tour our domain."

An unearthly wail emanated from Durclax's throat and together, they took wing.

Lesh-Y

Over the next two hundred years the Court of Ardor was ceaseless in it's building of holds to dominate the region. One by one they arose: Aurax Dur, the Deepwater Darkness; Taurang, the Iron Tree; Tirgoroth, the Watch of Terror; Misigoroth, the Delving of Jewels; Angkirya, the Iron Mine; Menelcarca, the Fang of Heaven.

"Our raid went well. We achieved complete surprise," the captain of Lesh Y's troops declared. The Elf was arrayed in golden armor, much like that of the Noldor. He laid a bloody Arana banner at Lesh Y's feet on the white marble floor of the gallery. "Our losses were light and we have many captives," he continued.

The demon stood, towering over the captain, his red skin glistening in the enchanted light of the room. He picked up the banner and looked at it impassively.

"Excellent work. You and your troops have done well," he said.

"Thank you, Excellency. After all, I was once a soldier for Arana. I know their strategies and methods," the captain stated proudly.

Lesh Y nodded. "I am aware of that. How many captives do we have?"

"Thirty two. One of them is a group leader. What do you wish me to do with them, Excellency?" The captain asked.

"Take them to the chamber to await my presence."

"As you wish, Excellency," the captain said with a bow. He walked backward several steps and then departed through smoky glass doors, which parted magically at his approach.

The demon stroked the red skin of his face for a moment, thinking. Being a spirit of fire, he could not 'feel' in the same manner as the Elves. Emotion was such an alien thing. He could not understand the concepts of pain, fear, and terror. With amused detachment, he gathered his forging instruments – the tools of his trade were good for more than just forging…they were tools for extracting information.

He held his Mithril hammer in his massive hand and felt its weight. "It is equally effective in destroying as it is in creating…curious."

Tucking it into his leopardskin kilt, he marched off to his chambers.

The Concern of the Three Grows

Fëatur

In the hidden enclave of Ty-Ar-Rana, the Three gathered to discuss recent events in the area. In an underground reception hall, a heated debate took place.

"This is the fifth attack this month," Lyaan said gravely, the hem of his white robe gripped tightly in his hand. Lysa and Lyrin nodded quietly. Lyaan turned. "The raids have been very costly to our people - over one hundred killed and more than that missing. There were mostly undefended settlements, but most recently a military garrison. The raiders never left their casualties so it was difficult to assess their losses or origins.

"As we said a hundred years ago, this will not go away, Lyaan," Lysa stated.

Lyaan put his hand over hers, "I was a fool," he said. The others remained quiet. "Only a true fool learns not from his mistakes. I only hope my insult to Fëatur can be forgiven," he continued. Lysa gazed at him, smiling in understanding. He had come to a decision and his face was set. Lyaan then looked at Lyrin and nodded. Between the psychic link that the Three held, Lyrin instantly understood. Rising, Lyaan called to the attendant, "Send messengers out to find Fëatur and contact the Starseer Enclave. We need to meet."

Early next year, the three hundredth after the rising of the Sun, a meeting was held in Ty Ar­Rana. The Three along with the Starseer Enclave were in attendance there. Fëatur was also present, subdued, wearing his traditional black robes. Another group came also, known as the Guild of Elements.

The imposing leader of the Guild, Chrys Menelrana, introduced himself and his group. "I am kinsman to Finrod Felegund, now King of Nargothrond in the North." Standing nearly seven feet tall, Chrys was attired in a fabulous robe of red and yellow and his blond ringlets hung over his shoulders. At his hip was a sword with gold and mithril hilts. He pointed to a young man, next to him, who was surely a kinsman as well. "This is my son, Laurre."

"And here, we have the others of the Guild, Carnil Ravire, Talan, Ralian, and Elerior. These Elves are the best and brightest of the region."

Without standing, Fëatur spoke, transferring the attention to himself. "That's good," he said with a hint of mockery. "What do you plan to do with yourselves?"

Chrys took a step back and narrowed his eyes. He was clearly not used to such blunt speech. "You are… Fëatur I take it?"

"Indeed. Now, are we here to establish a plan of action or just talk?"

"The Guild was created to thwart Morgoth's plans in the South and is known for its ability to take action."

Fëatur finally stood and walked by the towering Chrys. "Then we shall have no problems, you and I."

They walked back to a meeting room through smoky laen doors that parted at their approach and Lyaan opened the meeting. Dressed in his white tunic and pants, he created an impressive sight. He raised his arms and lowered his head as he spoke, "Fellows, my shortsightedness has caused the urgent need for this meeting. I wish to express my deepest apologies to Fëatur, whose wisdom would have gone far in preventing this travesty. I ask you all now to come together and face this new threat. My people and I are all willing to commit maximum resources to this effort," he said earnestly. Fëatur remained expressionless while the rest nodded and murmured agreement.

Chrys rose to take the floor and Lyann sat. "We thank Lyaan for inviting us to this secret hold of Ty Ar Rana. The Guild understands the attacks that your people have endured. Can you say who is behind this?" he inquired.

Fëatur sighed, again drawing attention to himself. "You have something to say?" Chrys asked, somewhat irritably.

Fëatur rose slowly, looking at each person, a grave expression on his face. "This is obvious. I have been saying this for more than nearly two hundred years now…This is the work of Morgoth. How can you not see it?" Some looked at him skeptically and Fëatur took notice of these disbelievers.

"How do I know? I'll tell you. I was once a servant of Morgoth!" he yelled. The crowd gasped and Fëatur slammed his fist on the table for effect. "I followed the Dark One, believing his lies until I heard of the death of the Trees. It was then that I saw through his evil and gave my spirit up to the Valar. I begged Mandos to destroy me for what I had done, but I would not be released," he said, pain obvious on his face and his lips twisted in inner agony.

"To my dismay and redemption, I was sent back to defeat the plans of Morgoth in this region. My twin sister is still a part of his scheme and I know she is in the area. I also know that she is one of those responsible for the attacks."

A pregnant silence filled the room. After a long minute, Chrys spoke, "If what you say is true...That you were a servant of Morgoth and that your sister remains so, how can we then trust you?"

Lyaan rose and raised his hand as a vote of confidence for Fëatur. "We can trust him. He has my support." Lysa and Lyrin nodded solemnly in agreement. Lyaan continued, "I propose we form an alliance. The Starseer Enclave's support would go a long way in divining the purpose behind these attacks and the plans of the enemy. The Guild is known for its military prowess and can teach our people to better defend themselves. Fëatur's understanding and dedication can better lead us to overcome the enemy. How say you all?"

Universally, there was agreement, except for Fëatur, who remained motionless. Chrys looked at him in confusion, his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. "You disagree? I thought this is what you had been working for?"

"I agree with all except for me leading anything. For my crimes, I have no right to lead anyone. I will join, but only as a follower," he said.

Lyaan looked over at him, observing him with new respect. "Very well. So, it is done. I propose we call ourselves the Luingon Alliance." Again, agreement was universal. Chrys drew his sword and held it above his head. "I give my oath to uphold and defend this alliance. As a token of faith, the Guild will remain here for awhile to fight and train the Arana People." The Starseers also affirmed the oath and would return home to ascertain the motives of the enemy. When the group began to break up and depart, no had noticed that Fëatur had not taken an oath, having already been bound by a higher promise.