Chapter 38: Ash nazg krimpatul
Note: Re-uploaded due to erroneous old entries in chapter.
A thundering resounded through the valley as thousands upon thousands of armored boots slammed one after the other down atop the soil. Row upon row that shone in the light of the day star and now glimmered in the nearing night marched with astounding unity and finesse. These men, dark were their eyes, and darker was their intent, but stalwart and strong, some would even say brave and courageous, these men of the East stood row upon row and stack by stack man to man, and brother to brother as their endless march carried forth.
Hundred fell and had fallen to beasts of screeching and scorching fire from the skies above. Elves, near myth to them had beguiled them with their mere existence as their arrows felled their number, and the city of Dale and its inhabitants along with those 'half-men' the Dwarves, all gave them resistance. Yet, now they cowered within this a singular mountain that had already seen great terror and turmoil in the last many years of this Middle-Earth. Dale burned behind them, cinders and smoke rose two beasts with screeching rider and screeching maw of burdened beast called and cried as squeaks and squeals of Orc and troll hollered like wraiths in a mothers tale to her children. For the city no longer was the domain of these Easterlings who poured forth from it in great a number to take their true prize and the object of the Dark Lord's northern fury, Erebor.
Úndrathill stood staring weary and tired, his body matted and dirty with sweat and dirt and the blood of nameless, faceless, fallen foe aplenty. The night, always the fell night came and it made him wearier still. His men marched and marched fought and hollered, brandished blade and readied shield when blown the horns were. And glorious they were for they signaled the rising tide from the east that would finally make low these man who placed themselves so firmly above all others. Their arrogance would amount to nothing, it is as it always had to be, and he reveled in it now. Yet, as he looked to those massive gates that stood before this mountain, either side guarded by a great Dwarf of stone, which he found mildly amusing in its irony, he knew this night would not be the one upon which these doors would be felled and the holds taken and those within made dead or slave.
"Captain." He intoned lowly and a man beside him stepped forward and bowed deeply at his hip in reverence and respect.
"Hail, Emperor."
"Have the men make camp. We have fought hard, but we will set watches upon these flanks to Dale, and watch for any incursion by those Woodland assassins. The men should rest, eat and drink. For, come morning the war is renewed and our splendor and glory rises with the that of the Dark Tower." Úndrathill looked with but a small measure of scorn back upon the city of Dale as Orcs thundered in armored boot upon the ramparts.
"Allow our allies to enjoy the spoils of their city and tend to its defenses. We will play our part when time come."
"Aye, Lord-Emperor, I shall inform all companies."
"Good...good, on your way." Úndrathill hailed and so too did the man as he stepped away and ran off to commit to the Lord's will. Dreams, many dreams filled his waking and wakeless dreams of sleep and daylight. Of Rhûn, a shining star of the east rising like the morning day star, and setting a shadow across all the west. For Rhûn to be safe and rich, and his people strong and prosperous. To appease the Dark Lord, Sauron, was to guarantee such dreams. All he need now do, was grasp at the final straws.
"For Rhûn, for the East." He intoned lowly more, and continued to carry on watching that lonesome, almost sad, and obviously pathetic, mountain before him.
He had raced, running, panting and sweating when news had come...
"The King, the King! He is come!" They cried upon his ears as men too old or boys too young to fight scampered in with the women deeper into the glittering halls of the Lonely Mountain. Yet, ill were these tidings even as Bard ran past them all he could feel it within his very bones as Dwarves lined in armor of stone and metal stomped towards the great doorway with him.
"Fallen, he is fallen! Brand our King, he is felled and all is doomed!" No, his father had not fallen! Not his father, not Dale, not again. He prayed to all things ancient and wonderful of beauty and goodness, but as he slammed his body younger still and more than capable of waging war against the doors of the gate even as the Dwarves pulled them apart, he was greeted with such a terrible sight. He wondered then if it was like this for his ancestors. Had Girion seen such a sight before he was felled by Dragon fire? Had Bard, his great grandfather beheld such terror when Dragon fire again stripped away Laketown and burned it to cinder and ash? For, he stood eyes wide and glittered with a watery depth as tears stung at them, and watched as great stacks of fire rose from fair Dale, and he stood looking to where he was born, where his feat and those of his children walked fell into nothingness. Blackened beast with blacker a rider hovered far above crying and wailing in wondrous praise and rapture at the deathly sight. Bard wondered were he dreaming should a Dragon surely follow? Should he too see the great malicious eyes of Smaug the Great as his roar and breath consume all that was alive and yet untainted by fire? He had little a heart left to break, but for then his eyes were turned away from fair Dale, as he indeed saw many a man running along through the valley, waylaid by black arrows of man and Orc from afar. Dwarves too among them scattered and broke any such rank to flee as he had days prior to Erebor, and his heart, he found, could break a little more still.
"Father!" Bard called as he rushed from the gates. Two men clothed in the armor of Dale ran with what strength they had, breaths heavy and limbs weary by look alone one could tell. They hauled Brand forward with both men carrying him each under one of his arms as his head hung low and his hair, matted and smeared clung to his face.
"Father! What happened to him?!" He demanded pushing against the men as they tried to gently lay him down as more men and dwarves came from within Erebor into the open.
"Hit by an arrow, boy. He will be fine if we get him to a healing keep!" Bard swung up to see poor King Dáin trotting forward seeming more heaving and tired than the men as he came to a labored stop and placed both hands upon his knees.
"The...the city is lost." He went on through breaths as dwarves rushed around him and pulled those running inside as well.
"Yer' father here sounded a retreat...and I was inclined to follow." The dwarf declared sounding as best he could to appear unhappy with the retreat. Though, knowing Dáin, Bard figured he was playing it up a bit. Both he and his fellow dwarves looked just as weary and worn as any among the ranks of men.
"So, we..." He took another gasping breath as he swung that hammer, he somehow carried with him all the way from Dale, over his shoulder.
"Best be getting inside for a little eh...rest and healing. Quickly now," Dáin went on beginning to walk towards the doorway and motioning for his men to follow.
"We got planning and dying to be getting to, all of us. Including you laddy, for your father and yer' people." Bard lowered himself and felt confused. He didn't even know what to do, or where to begin as he looked upon his father. His eyes were shut, and his breaths were barely audible, or there. The end of an arrow protruded from his shoulder and Bard chanced to place his own calloused hands upon Brand's armor, caked and soiled by black and crimson blood of many foes.
"Fa...father...da..." Bard felt more than heard his voice crack as he placed both hands upon him and lowered his head. Tears stung at his eyes and he felt ashamed. No man, no man in battle should be weeping like a wee boy! He was aware the men around him and the dwarf King looking back on him.
"Now come on laddy, he can make it through! Tough bastard ya' father there, seen it with me own two eyes! But, we got to get inside now, before those buggers over there get any funny ideas! And I need ya' so do yer' people for what's to come." Dáin carried on after re-approaching the knelt man whose hands clung to the chainmail of his father's tunic.
A searing anger rippled through him and Bard twisted his head upwards as he looked to fallen Dale. His fists turned hot white with pain as he crushed them into balled fists and felt the chainmail bore into his flesh.
"I'll kill the bastards!" He hollered climbing up onto his feet in a flash.
"No sire!" Cried one man that was quick to grasp at his shoulder from behind. Bard quicker than he threw the man aside and his grasp as he snatched at his sheathed sword and brandished it.
"I will slay all within our city! I will not allow them to do this to us! Damn you, curse you into the fires of Mordor from which you come! Curse your sons and all those who bore them!" Bard screamed in frightening a display into the far distance even as the deathly wail from that beast's rider met his ears and made his skin crawl.
"Aye, they are a right rabble of bastards, but let's not go around cursing at em' when we could be readying to fight em' with our wits about us." Dáin continued sounding more controlled in breath and manner than Bard even thought possible.
"I won't let them just...just burn Dale to the ground Dáin of Erebor! It may not mean much to you, but it is our city! Our blood and our men died for it, and for what?! For our King...my father to be laid out on the dirt in front of your damnable mountain!" The men near Bard recoiled some and looked uneasy about their Prince's words. The dwarves...well they seemed a bit displeased. Dáin, however, just placed his hammer-axe to the ground and leaned upon it looking sternly into Bard's eyes.
"Plenty a' good dwarf died within those city walls too, boy. Needn't you go forgetting that wee fact. Nor, should you forget who the King is, laid our before my more than welcoming mountain hold." It almost sounded a threat, but seemed more an invitation, or so Bard thought as Dáin motioned to the still open gates.
"Your father, he made the retreat, and ya' know why? Because he wanted be saved not your cobblestone, or yer' silks and houses, but these here people. For your sake, and their sake laddy. He's hurt sure, but he took that arrow like a dwarf I'd say, one of the toughest too! Ya' think he wanted to see this city burn again? But, that sure isn't the legacy of Bard the Bowman, now is it? No, that's the legacy right here," He pointed with harsher and more stern a voice pointing his axe to Brand.
"And here," He swung it around towards the men around Bard who all looked still uncomfortable with the two as they exchanged words.
"Better still, right here!" Dáin pointed to Bard whose eyes softened and turned away, almost appearing ashamed.
"Wasn't no city Bard was worried about, but his people. His family, and there ya' go trying to run off to get yerself killed, and make your father's work mean a whole lotta nothing. Well, go on then! Run off to Dale all by yer' lonesome or with any fool stupid enough t think yer' people live and die by that city! Break yer' father's heart right as he lay bloodied and hard fought to keep not just you, but your bloody people alive! I'll personally break it to him too!" Dáin declared smacking his axe against the ground leaving Bard to keep his face turned to the ground. Silence then passed, and it seemed as though it would last an eternity as Bard slowly turned back towards Dale.
"Don't let yourself give em' what they want laddy." Dáin went on, and though Bard would never tell the old dwarf, he sounded a lot more calm and wise than he was used to.
"They want ye' to lose yer' wits and give up. Fight and die without a trace of ya' left but what they stack on a bone pile. Ya' fight and die, so what? Who cares? Oh ye' die for the good cause, but do it so it matters, not because yer' angry. Hell, I'm angry! Yer' father is one of the best men I've known, and I've been alive...well too log for anyone to need be knowing now." Now Bard wasn't sure if that was a joke, or a very slight hint of vanity.
"You fight for yer' people, and ya' do it even when it looks like it won't matter hidden in me welcoming mountain. Don't throw yer' life away, but give it away for something that matters. This fight surely matters, but a mad dash at that lost city is no way to do it. Yer' people, as yer' father told yer' men, is more than just the walls of that there city. It's all these people, laddy! So long as a one of ya' live, the men of Dale will see that city again, and it will look good as new, especially if we dwarves got a thing or two to say about it!"
Bard turned to look down upon his father, and he felt his shoulders give from under him, or so it seemed as he slumped them downwards.
"It's cruel a thing, that I should make you to suffer more, father." Bard intoned as he weakly sheathed his sword.
"Take him to the nearest healers."
"Aye, Lord!" One man replied as he and three more rushed toward the fallen King, grasped gently at him and hoisted his unconscious self upwards and then, through the waiting gates of Erebor.
"You wait and see laddy," Dáin went on softly as he made a slight turn towards the doorway once more. His own dwarves forming in to prepare shutting the heavy gates.
"This will be over soon enough, and all will be for the better, I feel it in me bones!" He gave a hearty reply in the end and some of his more hearty dwarves hollered in agreement as Bard looked upon Dale, for what he thought would be the last time.
"All is to dust and ash then. So mighty and worthy a tale of men. To be made low so many unfortunate a time. So, is the legacy of the Kingdom of Dale." He whispered as he turned away from the city and retreated into the keep along with all the men and dwarves beside him.
And so he remained standing watch upon the ramparts looking out into the valley beyond. A sort of malformed and false peace befalling all those within and beyond the Lonely Mountain. As the day dragged on and Bard watched as thousands, turned to tens of thousands seemed to flood out from the western gates of Dale now ruined and made a hunting ground for Orc and beast. They gathered hollering, blowing horns, and hailing their doubtless victory to come. No arrows were loosed from either side, a reprieve it would seem, and a false one. He waited until nightfall, and watched as this lie would appear to carry on. As many tents were pitched and some manner of warfare continued beyond his sight against Dale. That, he had not bothered to inquire of.
Men and dwarves stood on either side of him as he looked outwards. A constant guard standing in the waiting with bow and arrow, or spear and axe. All standing ready and waiting for the inevitable. He took a shaky but low and hidden breath as he sadly found himself looking to Dale more than he had thought he would. It burned still, and he knew its ashes would fall for days to come. As all in the world now seemed gray and dreary, and he held no such glimmer of foolishness for the future. But, alas, awaited the inevitable. Sauron's march, and the rise of darkness over all Middle-Earth.
"I have irrefutable proof Master, and I would have thought you more receptive to this...this...abominable information than any other among the most esteemed council!" Master Windu raised his left hand to calm the man before him and gave him one of his more slight but stern faces of disapproval. The Jedi physically calmed and raised both his hands as though to show he was relaxed before anything had even been said.
"Your concerns are heard and I understand fully, trust me on that, Kolvori. However, now is not the time where I can so freely explore your...as yet unproven allegations."
"They are unproven only because you have yet to see my report details." The Knight Kolvori retorted quickly, almost feverishly. The younger man, of dark but finely groomed hair, and blistering blue eyes held up his datapad. The sunlight shining through the open panes of the Temple shone across the datapad shining that light upon half of his fair toned face as it turned skewed and hard with righteous indignation. Mace gave a faint sigh as he looked beyond Kolvori to see Master Yoda waiting patiently down the hallway. Almost seeming intrigued by the little back and forth he had stumbled upon from afar.
"I will read through your reports, Kolvori. However, with certain...other matters concerning the War at hand it may take me some time to broach the issue with the rest of the council. Have patience, and you will see that we will conduct ourselves and ascertain the level of truth you've dutifully presented for us to sift through." The younger man searched Mace's face for a moment, but try as he may Master Windu was often known for fully being able to hide his true thoughts and emotions. So, Kolvori relented and bowed respectfully.
"I understand, and appreciate your candidness, Master. I only hope the council look into these...disturbing findings soon. Lest we end up fighting this war for the safeguard of little more than a lie." Mace only gave another nod and bowed in kind signaling the end to their conversation. Kolvori turned on his heel and quickly made down the hall. Being sure to bow low and respectfully to Yoda as he did so along the way.
Mace traveled down the same hallway and soon came up alongside the small Grand Master who gave a slight but welcoming chuckle.
"Concerned, young Knight Kolvori is?" Mace figured Yoda already knew the answer to that, but humored him and nodded holding up the datapad.
"Kolvori...he's always been one of our more...concerned prospects. Strong in the Force, but staunchly adherent to the Code. In a way I admire him, he's a model for one can only hope a Knight to be."
"Yet, concerned, you are." It wasn't a question and Mace gave a half shrug and sigh as he pocketed the datapad.
"A quickness to jump to conclusions befalls him. This would not be the first time he's presented false claims to myself, or other members of the council regarding activity unbecoming of Jedi amongst his peers."
"Unbecoming? Claim he does, those among our Order, turned away from the Code, they have?" Mace found himself somewhat unsure what to say and held his hand up making ready to gesture, but he found the words still not coming to him.
"It's...not so much that they turn away from us, Master Yoda. It's more that Kolvori claims there are Knights...and Masters who do not respect our code. Who have engaged in...more intimate than permissible relations with either fellow Jedi or those outside our Order. He has always been very adamant that we enforce the Code to the fullest extent. Ever since he was a boy he's been so...sure of himself, and disdainful of the tails of Nomi Sunrider and Ulic Qel-Droma, or...others among the Order who one could say fall outside the norms of conduct." Yoda hummed thoughtfully and nodded, his ears dipping ever so subtly.
"Understand, I do. Adherence to the Code, greatly important to him, it is. Seeing others, real or imagined, disturbs him it does, if breaking the Code, they are. Care, he must take." The older Master warned motioning his small paw like hand from his gimmer stick.
"If unfounded, a claim is, dangerous a position, he may find himself. Tensions, high they are, because of the war. Reminded, Kolvori need be, that shadow of the Dark Side, arrogance is." Mace understood Yoda further still and nodded in agreement.
"I understand, Master. I'll try to assuage his concerns given some time. However, if there are Jedi breaking the Code so blatantly..."
"Then care, we too, must take." To that Mace furrowed his brow ever so slightly.
"Warp feelings and mindsets, war does. Temperamental, and untested, many Knights are. Only recently knighted, many are. Lost too many Masters upon Geonosis, we did." Master Windu bowed his head at that memory. It wasn't shame...he didn't know what it was. But, whenever that day, all those years ago, was ever mentioned he felt a tinge of something prickle at his insides. Indeed, too many Masters yet to fully train their apprentices, who were some of them Masters now themselves, left a sort of generational gap in the Order. Of course, he was happy some had made it out. Some who he considered to be friends, great allies and great Jedi. Obi-Wan, Master Mundi and Secura. But still there was a loss, a wound in the Order. Yoda, he saw, had a point.
"What should I do, Master?" Mace asked sincerely.
"Investigate give time, you should. To the Council, this matter should be brought. Case by case, a correction, we should make."
"Correction, Master?" He repeated.
"Know what to do, when the time comes, we will." Mace almost felt as though Master Yoda himself wasn't sure what the answer might be to such a question. If so blatant and vast a problem this had become what was the Order to do to fix it? While a galactic war raged on with some of these Jedi beyond official control of the Council...for now at least. Mace had an idea what Kolvori would like see done, but...the boy was just passionate in his devotion to the Code was all. He knew, in a way, how he felt.
"Either way, we should attend to...more pressing matters first."
"I agree." Yoda nodded as he began pulling himself down the hall, gimmer stick first in his movement.
"We should announce officially the mission being sent to Kashyyyk to assess any and all reports on Separatists activities in the system. We cannot afford to allow another Mid-Rim world to fall into the hands of the enemy. Especially if what we've heard is true."
"Rumor, so far, it is. But, if on world Grievous is, a firm hand, there may need be."
"We should wait until a full council can be gathered on this matter. We're still assessing reports that he has been spotted near Cato Neimoidia and this Nelvaan world."
"Agreed." Yoda nodded as Mace slowly paced alongside him, and the two passed two knights who bowed respectfully.
"Of Master Kenobi and Knight Skywalker, Master..."
"Something new to say, have you?" Yoda inquired immediately.
"N...no Master." He relented not wanting a repeat of the elder Grand Master's warnings and postulations from the other night. Though, he had of course given thought to them.
"I merely wished to ask if any further news has been received of them. After all we also have Masters Koon and Fisto on world and both could be invaluable in other theaters already in operation."
"Expecting a report from Master Kenobi this day, I am. If anything new, learn it there, we will." Yoda declared with a measure of finality to him that Mace relented to and nodded as the two continued in relative, but content silence off towards the council chambers, for a more appropriate meeting with those Master who were available across the galaxy, as the war raged on.
"Whatever do you mean, Isard?" The Supreme Chancellor asked with a creased and seemingly disturbed brow of worry and concern. The smaller holographic of Director Isard fumbled slightly and tensely straightened himself where he stood.
"I've requested logs from all ships among the fleet over this Arda, and within the last several hours I have no record of any cold storage cargo boarding any vessel. I am aware you wished...discretion concerning this package, so I did not raise any further concerns. However, I am unsure as to what to do next considering the lack of on-hand personnel, or lack of adequate storage checks and crew logs. The recent battles on the planet and in orbit have left another hole in our logs on both crew and materials, your Excellency."
Palpatine averted his eyes for a moment. They turned upwards to face his office doorway and he allowed a momentary sneer to form across his lips. A slight stuttering of his lips only for a second gave pause to any who could have seen him. For in an instant the slumbering monster beneath reared his head, but in the very next it was gone, and the old man relented a grieved sigh of exhaustion, but understanding.
"An unfortunate turn of events I should say Director. I would like a full report come the next routine check-in from the fleet of all personnel left and materials. We shouldn't encourage our men to mismanage such logs for the future. Such things are needed to be known in war, after all." Isard bowed his head.
"Yes, of course, your Excellency. I shall see to it all is set in order once the fleet makes an appropriate log recall to the command apparatus here on Coruscant. But..."
"Yes, Director?" His voice dropped in tone for but an instant and Isard cleared his throat uncomfortably as he placed his hands properly behind his back.
"Of your package, what are we to do? Surely there will be men who noted my explicit order and request for storage and care. I do not pretend to know what has happened, but...if too many questions are asked-"
"Then we will be sure to inform all proper and necessary channels of the log request error. After all, this is war Director. Such logs and materials often find themselves...in holes." To that sudden turn of his own words Isard nodded his full understanding.
"Of course, your Excellency. I shall see to it all such future errors are...corrected."
"As you should, Director." With that Palpatine bowed his head and Isard knew to end their connection, allowing his figure to fade away and leave Palpatine alone within his office.
In silence and within the 'comfort' of this little office he contemplated. He didn't dare make another attempt to reach out through the Force. Whatever that 'thing' was he didn't want it poking around back on Coruscant again. He already knew well that the Jedi on world had sensed its presence, and were none too pleased with it. Though he figured, correctly he thought, that the Oneness of Skywalker would more importantly catch their attention.
His fingers twined themselves together and the man leaned back into his seat. His face became the vision of ponderous thought and silent twisting and turning of those gears within his mind. His eyes remained blank and looked to the walls opposite him lining either side of the hallways leading both out and into his office. He turned his eyes down only upon hearing a curious noise. To which he saw one of his legs bouncing up and down from the floor. He smirked darkly. The sight of his actions while in thought amused him. He hadn't been so fiendishly intrigued in some time. Better still, this machination had nothing to do with the works and tests or ploys of his old Master, unlike dear Skywalker, or so he knew at least.
Still, he was left wondering just what to do. He stood from his chair, and clasped his hands behind his back as he shuffled away from his table only barely and off to its side, his robes twirling around him as he did. He was torn, as he looked out across that ever present and active skyline and cityscape. On the one hand, the war had once more been put into motion. With Grievous' return and the imminent return of Skywalker and that Council lapdog, Kenobi. However, that power...that radiant but blotting strength of imminent doom and pulsating ancient power, so unlike the Force and the dark Side, but able so easily to affect and contort it even from untold billions of miles away from the point of impact! It was exhilarating as it was...frightening. The Jedi had felt it too. He was no fool, and he knew what was to come of that world and that presence upon it. War was to be swiftly fallen upon them all, and in vain attempt by the Order to speedily resume and 'finish' their own war. To the expense of another, and that brought a curled and twisted smirk back to his aged face. But, with what Grievous had told him, and Dooku had been able to gather, that little Dark Jedi, one of many untold and unimpressive fallen acolytes and failed Jedi, this Vica, Palpatine knew she had firsthand knowledge and experience with whatever this power had been. Dead or alive, she would be his best bet, to get as close as possible to seeing, testing, and experiencing it, even if only from afar and for a mere second. It was too good an opportunity to allow slip past his fingers.
He turned and quickly snapped one boney but pointed finger upon his desk's holoterminal unit. Within a second one of his adjutants, a loyal and benign figure who had proven himself fanatically loyal to receive his position, answered and bowed his head.
"How may I be of service, your Excellency?" The man asked, in as unimpressive a display of fealty as ever.
"Yes, I would have you provide me the nearest location of a Special Operations unit to the location of General's Kenobi and Skywalker. I think, based on recent reports, that our friends on world may be in need of further support from more well trained and directed clone operatives than the base soldiers on planet currently. I have special directive to give to this unit and would like to personally see them off with my orders."
"Of course, Chancellor. Allow me to simply check our most recent report logs from the nearby Systems and Sectors. It should only take a moment."
"My thanks." Palpatine replied as he pulled himself back into a full and regal stand and waited in near uncomfortable silence for this man to sift through the logs and report. The man could be seen shuffling over an unseen terminal, his eyes scanning massive lists most likely. Until finally he lit up and turned back to Palpatine with a smile of self satisfaction with himself.
"I've found a recently rerouted ARC trooper squad moved to Rhen Var for simple patrols duties, your Excellency. After the reconquest some time ago, as I am sure you remember, there have still been found pockets of resilient droid units still in some of the lower valleys. This squad, ARC Squad Alpha-13 is part of that routine patrol duty, but are due for transport to the Mygeetan front in a few weeks time. Will they suffice Chancellor?" Palpatine smiled appreciatively.
"They would be lovely, please connect me directly to their commanding officer...at once." He added and the man nodded as he began forming a long range connection. This took another few moments, and Palpatine ignored him as he connected with one of the new officer types spreading throughout the galaxy...courtesy of his own machinations of course. Until he finally seemed to make contact with the squad in question and turned back to Palpatine.
"Your Excellency, I present you with ARC Captain Alpha-13. Another small hologram materialized with an audible warbling as the terminal produced a new small figure upon Palpatine's desk.
"An honor, Chancellor." The un-helmeted man greeted with sweaty a head and accented a voice much as Jango Fett's had been. It was both mundane and always a bit strange to see so many Fett's waltzing around. Though, he had always known it would be this way, once in practice it had proven to be no less surreal.
"Yes, an honor indeed..." He turned to the adjutant.
"Leave us."
"As you wish, your Excellency." He bowed his head respectfully and faded from sight leaving only the small figure of the ARC trooper before the Supreme Chancellor.
"I will forgo all surely dull and trivial formalities for a soldier such as yourself." Palpatine began again as he paced ever so slightly before the table. Making himself out to be concerned as he furrowed his brow and carried in his voice an unreleased sigh of exasperation with every spoken syllable.
"I am in need of soldiers for an...operation. One in which the Senate nor the Jedi need be concerned with its meaning and purpose. It is a sensitive matter that I feel would greatly benefit the Republic's war effort and help ascertain information from our enemies."
"If it's a tough job you need done, Chancellor, then me and my boys would certainly be capable of that." Alpha-13 responded with strong and puffed a demeanor. Palpatine turned his head, a small shadowy glimmer of a smile upon his lips as he loosed a deep and thoughtful sigh.
"I am happy to hear your enthusiasm, Captain. However, I should warn you, this mission will require the utmost discretion on your part if it is to succeed. Meaning the need to...be less than forthcoming if any such hard questions are asked of you."
"We've done black ops before, Chancellor. Me and my men are more than capable and willing to do our part to win the fight. Just name it." He went on with his thick accent. Palpatine nodded happily then.
"Good...good. Very well then, I will order your squad's transfer to the location of General Kenobi, Skywalker, Koon and Fisto. You will be officially on a stop over to your next destination, however, you will re-purpose yourselves for any combat needs required of you locally. In doing this you will provide for yourselves an important pathway for which you will be able to seek out a single enemy combatant."
"Whom, may I ask, Chancellor?" Palpatine relented and gave a wave of the hand.
"The local enemy commander...it is unknown if they have been killed or captured. You will not relay what you have or have not heard in this matter. All that matters is that you seek out this enemy leader, a one Vica. I would have you bring back her person...dead or alive." The ARC trooper looked only momentarily puzzled before shrugging and nodding.
"If that's what's needed for Intel then so be it, your Excellency, sir."
"It is, Captain, trust me. Do not doubt that. She is of great importance to our...understanding of Separatist activities beyond that one world. However, with Jedi business...we can never be too sure how our friends within the Order would react to having her body taken, dead or alive. There is much yet we could understand, much we could ascertain beyond the confines of the dogmatic natures of the Jedi. But, it is best we do not insult their delicate sensibilities."
"As you say, Chancellor, sir. Me and my squad will get on transport for the designated fleet stop over, and report back only after we've acquired the target. No matter the shape and order we will get it to you."
"Excellent. Once you have done so for m...for the Republic, Captain, you will await instruction for cargo transport following reestablishment of contact with one of my subordinates."
"Yes sir, right away." The Captain saluted in stiff and precise a manner and Palpatine bowed his head thankfully.
"You have my utmost confidence, Captain. I thank you."
"Just doing my job, Excellency." The Captain gave a final bow and both men sensed the conversation had indeed met its end. Thus, Palpatine again snapped closed the transmission and found himself utterly excited with intrigue. He gave another self satisfied smirk all to himself as he turned away and heaved within his lungs a mighty and contented breath. He looked out over his city, and his world beyond. Thoughts ruminating within his mind, hungry and anxious, so unusual and rare a sensation for him, of what was to come, what could come of it all.
"I suppose I'll just have to wait and see." He gave a faint cackle.
"Kill him now!"
"That is why you must help us, Anakin."
"I'm appointing you to be my personal representative on the Jedi Council."
"Is it possible to learn this power?"
"I want more, and I know I shouldn't."
"Only through me can you achieve a power greater than any Jedi."
"You will not take her from me!"
"You've failed, Your Highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me."
"Anakin help me!"
"Enough!" He hurled forward and loosed a scream that rattled his vocal chords and reverberated the room around him. Sweat poured down his body and matted his simple undershirt to his frame. His breaths were labored and his head swooned by the speed in which he threw himself forwards and up from his bed.
"Oh...Force." Anakin intoned as both hands came up and ran up along his face through deeply matted blonde hair. He closed his eyes as he felt himself spin for a moment or so longer as his adrenaline pounded and body shook. Images, flashes of sounds and voices rattled. Some less discernible than others. Some he didn't even recognize but fought with furrowed brow and painfully shut eyes to remember and listen harder. Yet, the more he tried to concentrate on them the fast he seemed to forget! He could hear Obi-Wan, and...Padmé...
His eyes opened and his face turned to a dreadful and pained sight as he remembered her screams, cries for help. What was he doing?! Why were these horrid nightmares here, why now?!
"Force give me...give me a break." His head continued to pound, and he had a sudden flash of his...of his mother. Her pain, her screams, her weak calls and pats along his face as she went limp in his arms.
"Kriff!" He slammed his right fist down upon his bed, more a fancy cot, and he heard a thud ring out as his strength carried his metal hand through to the beds frame. He hated these damn memories thrust to the forefront, and they hadn't left him alone now for longer than he was used to. He threw his legs over the side of his bed, and shook himself as he fought to purge such thoughts and shove them down and out of mind. Ever since that...that damn encounter his mind hadn't left him alone, and now it had infected his damn dreams...again!
The quiet grew heavy as he was left alone with nothing but his breathing, and it too slowed and calmed within a few moments more. He let his hands fall away and hang before himself down off the bed as his head also looked down to the finely crafted and cold floor below where he rested his feet. Only then did he realize just how tired he still felt, and both hands came up to rub either temple as his head swam and pounded with more weariness. He rolled his shoulders and ran his left hand along the base of his neck to his skull as he felt every muscle tighten and contract with whatever those dreams...those nightmares had been. The intensity and stress of those images, sounds and feelings having wore away at his body even in sleep.
He tilted his head upwards just a little, through squinted and heavy eyes he strained further as he noted the daylight that fought against the curtains hung within his rather lofty room. Blue, and vibrant in hue as they folded back and forth in the cold high breezes that flowed from down the sides of these mountains Minas Tirith was placed against. The room was all a shade of white, but a sort of natural egg white...or he guessed anyways. It wasn't sterile in color or lack thereof like most ships in the fleet were. The bed had fine silks and what felt like wonderful cloths that had adorned his body, now some more soaked in sweat than he would have liked. It honestly pulled his mind back to Rivendell, where this whole misadventure had begun. Though, he didn't regret it...most of it really. He couldn't believe it had all come to this...him, alone, within a finely maintained and breezy room that looked rustic, but regal and far above his credit worth. Abut to go out into some unknowable escapade with his old friend and Master there to help with a bundled group of fellow minded and goal oriented people.
And yet, through all that repetition, all that rhyming, he was still here. Alone, breathless, head pounding, swimming, and tormented by visions and sounds born of his mind. Or, at least that was what Obi-Wan and the others within the Order would have him believe about his 'dreams.' Even if he damn well knew better.
As he loosed another calming sigh and relaxed his shoulders some he heard his comlink blare off to his right. It rang and dinged upon a small table set near the bedpost. He groaned lowly and stretched over for it swooping it up and swiftly activating the call without caring to see who was calling.
"Anakin, are you up?"
"Seems that way, Master." Anakin replied still sounding intensely groggy. Which wasn't helped by his constant rubbing of his forehead and eyes to will the weariness away further.
"Right." Obi-Wan retorted knowingly.
"Well it's good you're up anyways. We've got work to do, and we need to do it quickly and efficiently. I've got the fleet to send all capable LAAT gunships and transports planet side. They are all here in camp and await order and protective transport to begin pickup and relief efforts for Pelargir, and to scout out Aragorn's needed manpower. Though, I think he wanted us to take some men with him as liaisons."
"Makes sense." Anakin intoned rising to a stand and stretching himself into readiness with a further shake of his head and still somewhat damp and cold hair.
"Would you trust a bunch of men armored in shining white descending from the skies in flying metal monsters, as being heralds of the newly come King?"
"Well, when you put it that way..." Obi-Wan chuckled causing a smile to finally worm its way across Anakin's face.
"Right, I'll find Aragorn. Just give me a few to get myself more...presentable. Send a ship will you?"
"Already on it." Obi-Wan noted.
"Have Aragorn get his men ready, and be sure he lets them know it's gonna be...strange. Meanwhile you and I have some battle plans we need to look over for the coming assault into Mordor."
"Anything I need hear about now?"
"No, not particularly. But we need to work out the initial phase, secondary, landings, so on and so forth. I'd like t have you here beside me mapping such details out. Cody is, after all, still confined to medbay after the...'incident.'" Anakin immediately paused. His skin broke out in bumps and he felt a chill in the air that he knew had to be psychosomatic. He tried shaking it off, but that unease once more flowed over him causing him to grit his teeth behind his lips.
"Right, will he be okay?"
"Yes, yes he'll be fine, Anakin. However, they have confined him from battlefield operations and have moved him with some of the more badly wounded to the fleet for recovery in more appropriate accommodations. Not that I'm sure he'll be happy about that when he wakes up, but he'll have to make do."
"Right." Anakin intoned as he dipped and scooped up a tunic he had been using the day prior that he had managed to toss lazily upon the ground in his frenzy to finally drop into sleep the night prior.
"Let's get to it then, Master."
"Very well. May the Force be with you, Anakin."
"You as well, Master." Anakin nodded and the connection swiftly cut. The Jedi Knight pulled the shirt down across his body and rustled it as it fell with a sharp coldness form the floor upon him. He closed his eyes and tried, ever as he did, to center himself within that indefinable and endlessly possible Force. But, as expected, he opened his eyes with a thin frown.
"As usual." Was all he intoned as he turned and made for the door from his room.
There was nothingness, a vast an empty void forever gone on and unimaginable, unbreakable and indefinable. No matter where you turned there was darkness and it was cold, and sullen. A static sense of melancholy pulsated around you and the emptiness within the pit of your being nearly made you sick as you tried to move amongst the blackness. A step forwards sent an unfathomably loud, but infinitely quiet echo through all the void until it finally receded in its endlessness far away and became as empty and nothing as the darkness itself.
A turn left and a turn right showed nothing until finally a scream hollered throughout, but ears...the ears began to howl in pain and you fell to your knees, or what you thought were your knees, in pain from the sound as it cursed and became crooked gnawing away at you. Eyes reopened through grit teeth and scowling face as the emptiness began to eat at you. Even moments felt as eternity and you wanted to cry and beg for release. This was nothingness at its pure heart and it was terrifying.
Until, there in the distance you perceived it. A shining light that burned bright even from afar its whipping winds and tendrils of cooling flame seemed to call and welcome you, but the apprehension kept them back and away. Until that light grew dimmer and dimmer with the passage of time, and waned away seeming afraid of you, or you afraid of it. Either way you pulled back into a stand and ran as hard and as fast as you could pleading with unheard a voice for it to come back until it finally grew brighter and brighter.
The charge for it took mere minutes and many years until a hard stop came and feet clawed at the formless ground to come to harsh and sudden a stop. For a sound was then heard. Eyes darted around as the fire now formed upwards, downwards and began to envelop you, welcoming and soothing as it brought you into this, its Kingdom. Prickling lights, like exploding stars burst around you within this veil of beauty and fiery display. Breathless was they who looked into this and swung around they did in rapture at so awesome and nauseously peaceful a sight it was. A smile, crooked and uncommon in this fashion etched its way onto that face, for the sound it had heard as noise then turned into music.
A sound, and a song, a chorus of emotion and thought unlike anything given from mortal mouth and mind. Sweet and strong, powerful, booming and wondrous as it cascaded outwards in all directions as thought and manner given to formless, meaningless song was carried with it weight and energy. A single prickling instant and a one orb of flame then bloomed into a wonderful flower that never ceased growth but the music did not stop, nor did it fade. Voices, formless, and faceless, sung without manner or meaning, but in choral purity and temperament unlike anything ever made by living creature, beast or man.
This being looked around themselves and looked then, and beheld that those that sung so beautifully did so, not from their bodies, for indeed they had none. Rather they were about her, in countless and numerous a wonderful party and band. Each prickling light set about this veil and tapestry of flame was in and of itself thought and manner with music that spilled from it. Each carried a light, now seen more closely that was different even if similar than every other set there. Pulsating with light and meaning all its own, they were in peace and harmony as they sung out, but perceived it was, that they were in chamber. For they were set in domed a manner all circling about one space that had yet to be seen.
So it was, that they traveled forward, the music drowning out most thought and feeling and replacing all such emotions and intentions with warmth unlike anything yet known. Peace seemed found here, and it was a peace unlike any. All need and want gone in so harmonic and melodic a song. No words could be derived for no tongue was recognized in this dialect of beastly bellows, and soothing tempos. All swirling and swooning in delight as the meaning poured out and spread forth seemingly unseen to all but this travelers eyes. But, they carried forth willing to see that which had yet to be noted at the center of this display, the object of song and center of the stage.
Fevered became this pitch to lay eyes upon it. Intent made real as feet burned with lessening strength, for the desire to fall and rest was stronger than ever. Even still, it felt almost unnatural and unexpected their passing even as no song was disrupted and no tempo missed or given hiccup and error. Breaths, or the feeling of breaths labored and the need to look strengthened and strengthened until the dome seemed to dip downwards like a swirling cyclone with the chorus spread about looking down into the center that beheld that which had yet to be seen.
They paused, and eyes grew wide as excitement replaced concern and need. For a burning light shone out that blinded all but given a dip of perception and change of outlook and belief one could nearly see into this light as it shone out and blinded all. All sensations prickled with laughter and wonder, as a flame could nearly be seen wrapped therein, and a form could almost be made out, for a throne was set there, but they upon it were yet to be seen, and it was needed, desired, craved that this being set upon the throne be given form and face, and so they neared it for closer a look.
A sound like a trumpet blared out and ravaged all sound and song, and the pitch and tempo of the music was forever changed as discord thrashed through the expansive meanings and intents. They who traveled here fell to their knees as their being shriveled and bent in contort as pain replaced happiness and peace. This sound then joined the song and made it harsh and unheard. A meaningless thing, a hateful thing, and brutal ravenous hunger. All sensations of want returned, all needs and quandaries, all desires and thrills pulsated quickening and sickening as all hope was stricken replaced with an unquenchable thirst.
They turned swiftly and there beheld a new figure. Seen but layered in a thick black fog. Terrible and tremendous the very definition of power given form, for they held up their hand and flowed from it that terrible discord that swept through all music and gave it offset and wrong a key. It alone showed no connection to the lights set round this unknowable place but it too gave no mind to the music that it so ravenously destroyed as all hatred filtered from it. But, so too came power that disseminated and echoed through all time. It was born of hunger, and yet fed on the emptiness, never to fill.
Another sound then came and seemed to meet this discord, and they who traveled here spun around as that light now rose into more prominent and bold a swirl of colors. But before here was then shown a blackened mass, wreathed there in fire that blotted out all there was before. A sound like howling beasts came froth and burned at their ears and all sights and sounds from before faded away into nothingness and all became black once more.
"You travel to thoughts and memory imperceptible! Begone from here!" They looked and beheld a Great and burning Eye.
Her eyes blasted open. Wide and full of fear as pupils dilated to mere dots set about the brown and common color. Bubbles morphed and traveled up alongside her face, as breaths, though labored, hissed with every intake and pulsed with every outtake. Her mind swam and head became light as sensations, sounds, and memory of what had come seemed to be what was and then a memory of a shadow on the edges of mortal perception.
Her face twisted and a renewed old horror took shape there as shaky and blurred vision turned outwards and beheld cold and sterile an environment beyond the muddled greenish hue set about this warm liquid. On either side stood familiar beings of metal and unmoving rigidity. Her eyes turned down right and shook with a violence and unspoken cry of authority as she lifted upwards a shriveled and pale hand. Another harsh series of bubbles loosed from the breather set upon her as she looked to this withered and perceptibly cold thing before her.
One of the guards set outside her tube turned and looked upon that sound. It recoiled some at her alertness and she burned with hateful a glare down atop it. She tightened her left hand, ignoring the burning sensation that ripped through her as as metal dug into flesh there into the palm of her hand. A shuddering loosed and the tube began to shake with violence and raw unkempt fury as the Force echoed and wailed in thunderous welcome. Her head shook and her shoulders labored with mighty and terrible a wrath as flash of flash played before her. Fields of green and brown, fire raining down, and smoke billowing around her, being of her, descending and cracking the air and winds as the march of death sounded forth like a...chorus of the unfathomable. Her eyes desired and fought to remain open but something pulled her back. She cursed lowly even as a harsh wail sounded of metal shaking and loosening from its unseen binds as something powerful crippled and tore at them. Something burned inside, and something need be loosed, something was awoken there, or had been seeping and she wanted out! She needed it, she needed that...that thing! It called to her, and she had to find it, she needed to find it, it had come to them so close, it had been so close!
All turned misty and veiled as shadows seemed to dominate her vision then. But she needed out, and needed it, she had to find it. She had to find that so precious a thing. She needed to find the Ring.
Her eyes shut, and body went limp and all was again lost of her.
"Inform the Captain, Lady Vica has shown movement. Recommend removal from bacta tank unit immediately."
"Roger, roger." One droid spoke to the other as they began to do as they were programmed to do.
Three horses approached. Bard stood ready and looked down upon them as men and dwarves stood at either side of himself. The morning had now come, and the birds yet remained silent. Before him was set a tremendous army, and even as the sounds of war carried on from Dale afar this sight took all attention. For there were rows upon rows, and little room left for even a single man to enter into what had once been a vast and open valley.
All the men and dwarves too stood with bows ready and arrows notched. Bard felt his jaw twitch, and with unsteady and unworthy feeling a hand, he gazed down. For within his hand he carried his father's most prized possession, and that of all within his household. The bow of Bard I, King of Dale, Dragon Slayer. He loosed uneven and lost a breath as he raised this most amazing a weapon and notched one arrow his own. He aimed down and out into the valley upon the three horses that neared. Two carrying banners of their Lord, and one carrying a banner of treating and momentary peace continued.
"Oi, the buggers have come along have they then?" Bard didn't move but nodded as he heard Dáin's son, and a good friend of his own, Thorin III Stonehelm.
"Aye, the bastards. They want to treat, so it seems."
"Ah good, then we can given em' what our fathers did."
"That being?"
"A whole lotta' nothing, but blood and sweat!" Thorin intoned as he seemed itching to fight as his father had the night before. Bard could not wholly repress his smirk but it was soon gone, as he looked out and beheld a sea of men glittering and glinting in golden armor, high piked spear, and ready blistering shields. Batteries of war, siege weapons, and archers in the thousands stood ready.
Either way a horn sounded that blared and rung in Bard's ears as he squinted but did not waver. Nor did any of those around him even if the thudding of their hearts could collectively be sensed more than heard or felt.
"Hail, Prince of Dale!" One of the men on either side of the main horse and its rider called out.
"We've come once more to offer terms of surrender. For your people and those who dwell under the Mountain! Your father would not treat with us as equals, and alas the city of your Kingdom's namesake lay burning within the grip of the Dark Lord in Mordor. Will you not listen?!" This man, heavily accented spoke as his real master remained planted, his mouth covered in their seemingly ceremonial face cloth. He eyed Bard, or so he thought from his vantage point, and remained sat comfortably upon his black steed.
"What is there to treat?! When my city and that of my people is already on fire?! What good is there in becoming a slave now, when the slave masters already will to commit pain and death?! Be it by way of war or by torture of slavery! Do you think us fools?! I will not treat with your or your master, or HIS master within the Black Tower to the south!" Every man and dwarf around him hailed including Thorin.
"How painfully willing must your people be," The man set upon his steed began low, near inaudible but growing in range and voice. The Emperor of these men spoke once more.
"To allow these noble Lords to throw so willingly their lives into the reeds? Is it so hard a thing to fathom a little want for war? After all, we are all men, grown of the same stock and tree. I have ventures elsewhere, and war to be made beyond in stranger lands than these sparsely mountains places! There are forests to burn of their Elvish brood, and rabid southern horsemen in need of quieting! Will not even those dwarves within hear of this?! Will you not allow for us to make war on old an enemy for yourselves?! For the Dark lord has spoken to me, and has let me hear all past grievances. I am no Orc and wish no more unnecessary death and trial if we can avoid it! Let us be ended in this war, and make peace! Build then a world side by side free of the influences of these men from afar! Free of Elvish lords and their waylaying men of the seafarers blood!"
"Oi, the day I listen to a single word that comes from your hidden mouth is the day I think me poor mum' has gone and become an ogre ten feet tall!" Thorin so eloquently put it and every dwarf hailed in jeering laughter.
"Then, it is death you have chosen for not yourselves, but all within this keep? Will you be so full of greed and uncaring as to see all hidden within this one Mountain die for the protection o mere falsehoods? Your freedom and gold? Meaningless before the rising tide of the order that is to come! Against the power rising in the East there is no victory!" An earth shattering hail sounded as every man set beyond cried out and drowned the men and dwarves of Erebor and Dale. The walls themselves shook and all felt but an ounce more unsure and of kilter.
"Oi, leave your forked tongue out of this party!" Thorin turned as Dáin came running up the stairway and slammed his body against the wall of the rampart and looked out over the display. His men cried in joy at his coming in spite of the terror that was before them all.
"I've had enough of ya' blabbering! Pretty yerself' up, and get ready to fight and die for what ya' believe in! Cause' so will we! To that last dwarf, to the last man, and to the last inch of ground here within, and upon this Lonely Mountain!"
Another cry sounded out, and this time it flowed from the rampart and those many hundreds of men and dwarves hidden behind the doorway into the main entry hall and keep of Erebor who heard Dáin's loud and frothing speech.
"So be it, King Under the Mountain. So be it Bard of Dale. So be it all, who were given a chance for peace, and would have us make war."
"Yeah yeah, I've heard it all before!" Honestly Bard figured Dáin was telling the truth considering their peoples own...strained history. Though it appeared now so far for the better.
"Very good then!" The Emperor cried and snapped his reins forcing his steed to turn with a loud neigh as did his two men. A pulsing silence came over all then. Bard felt his insides twist and mind grow blank with unknowing. He figured that was how it was for all the others as well, but he remained shaking, and standing with his great grandfathers bow, aimed ready for war.
"Let it not be said, that I died in the company of fools and cowards!" Bard heard Dáin begin as Thorin nodded and mumbled his clear agreement.
"We die together if we must lads! Man and dwarf alike, for better or worse! Let us give em' a good hammering! Let us fight like devils on the battlefield, and let us die with purpose! Today, I fight with nobody better! I fight and I die with every dwarf of Erebor and every man of Dale willingly. Will you do the same for me?!" Every man and every dwarf hailed readily and Bard closed his eyes with a sickening sensation. Opening them to see thousands upon thousands ready their bows and arrows.
"Will you do the same for the good King Brand?!" Again another massive hail resounded and the Easterlings pushed forwards catapult and horns blared from the back that traveled towards the front.
"Will you do so for your Prince Bard?!" Another hail sounded and bard pulled his arrow back just a little further.
"To death lads! To death!" Bard returned and a final hail sounded that became as thunderous as it was rapturous. As thousands of arrows loosed, horn blared, and the cries of war once more churned within the valley.
Authors Note: Once again, any and all grammatical errors can be pointed out to me, and I will do my best to fix them in a timely manner. Or, if not that, then I suppose I can only say try your best to ignore them for now. I know they're likely in there, but I cannot comb through a chapter five to seven times over and over before I genuinely stop caring. I did my best anyways. Yes, an early post so close to another. I know, it's almost like I really want to get this story done.
But I digress, let me know if you have anything to review. Until the next.