So, first and foremost I need to clarify some information from the previous chapter, as I didn't say it quite right. So, I had said that they emptied Edoras and made for the Hold of Dunharrow only to divert to Helm's Deep. In the book his was not quite correct. Their intent was for the civilians to head for Dunharrow, and then the soldiers were going to reinforce the Fords of Isen, but they got word they were too late there and went to the survivors at Helm's Deep.
Now, that's not quite the exact thing that happens here, but as we know this is an AU, where weird shit has already happened, lots of people are acting out of their original character, which is fine due to some of the aforementioned weird shit that has gone down.
There was also a line that Théoden mentioned that Edoras had not fallen. This is also a little fudgie on my part. It had been looted before, as it was not really an ideally protected city. There was a wall, but walls are not impenetrable. I will be going back and making a minor edit to make it more accurate (I ended up just deleting his sentence. Everything flowed just fine without it). I say again, if I state something incorrectly, please let me know. I won't be mad I promise. I do research the major events so that the story flows well, but sometimes I can read things incorrectly, or just make a mistake. I'm human, lol. Anyway, onto the story. There's quite a bit of action-y goodness here.
Chapter 53 - I'm Wishing
Lily could sense the sadness of her rider, but could not understand why she was upset. Surely being safe was more important for her and her cubs? Master having pups would be ever so exciting. She would protect them as well, and help keep them warm when the weather was cold, and perhaps her Master could find her a good Wolf-mate and she could have pups of her own that could be of service to her Master's little ones.
The wolf seemed to skip along merrily amongst the harried and nervous Rohirrim, making horses uneasy and riders wary. It was not long after leaving the gates of Edoras behind that Cerena was flanked by Aragorn and Legolas. Gimli was holding onto the elf for dear life, clearly not as comfortable on a horse as he might have been on a pony.
"Hello, friends," Cerena said, sparing them all a small smile.
"There's something I want to ask you," Aragorn said. Cerena tilted her head towards him.
"Ask away," she replied.
"Why did you not ask about Frodo and Sam?" he asked. She felt her cheeks heat up a bit. Because she'd known they weren't with them. She'd only asked about the other hobbits to see how everything had panned out.
"I knew they would not be with you," she answered honestly.
"Did you know the Fellowship would break?" Aragorn asked, his voice sharp but not angry. Cerena looked at him more fully.
"Listen to me. Every part of the Fellowship was important for every moment it was together. It's like saying the sun isn't important because it goes away at night. Yes, I did know that at some point Frodo and Sam would set out on their own. I thought, perhaps, that I might be able to persuade them to take another with them, but….but I was not at Amon Hen. I was not with you all. So what I did or did not know was moot," she replied.
"Aye, but you might have given us some insight as to how to stop them," Gimli said, his voice a little muffled from his seat behind Legolas.
"Frodo and Sam were fated to go to Mordor by themselves. They can succeed. I have seen it," Cerena said.
"Is it certain?" Legolas asked. But Cerena shook her head.
"No. It hasn't been certain in a long time," she added.
"And this flight for safety? What do you know of it?" Aragorn asked.
"What I suspect and what will come to pass are not necessarily the same thing," Cerena said.
"You should alert the King if there is anything dangerous," Aragorn said. Cerena looked where the King rode, Théodred on one side of him and the two of them in conversation.
"It won't change anything. This group is on edge enough to face anything that might come," she said. Aragorn looked at her for a few moments, before going quiet.
"How do you feel?" Legolas asked after a time.
"I get nauseous every so often, but it feels like there's no rhyme or reason, no schedule. Quite inconvenient. Other than that…I don't feel much different," Cerena answered.
"Can you feel their spirits?" he asked.
"I…haven't tried. I don't know…if orcs are capable of it," she said honestly.
"It's all so fascinating. Such an obvious act of Ilúvatar," he said, a small smile on his face. Cerena said nothing in return.
A call came up from ahead, one of their scouts coming back in a hurry.
"There are orcs ahead, big ones, at least two hundred strong!" he said. There was uneasiness immediately in the folk walking, but Cerena directed Lily to the head, past the King's guard and up to the other side of him.
"Do they carry any standard?" she asked, before the King could speak. Big orcs could be hers or Saruman's.
"Oh…er…yes, I saw a brown standard with a paw print and-"
"Two stars. That's my standard. They are my orcs," Cerena said with a grin.
"Your orcs? What are they doing?" Théoden asked.
"Likely patrolling," Cerena said.
"There was…another standard. I have never seen the like. It was red as blood, with a moon facing down," the scout added. Cerena's head jerked towards him.
"A red field with an upside-down moon?" she asked. Théoden was watching her face.
"Who is that? Do you know?" the King asked. Cerena for a moment was quiet. Could it be?
"It's…It's King Durbûrz of the High Orcs," she said.
"Well, they are directly in front of us. We will come to them soon enough. Ride with me, Lady, so that we may treat with them if need be," Théoden said. So she rode at the other side of the King. It took nearly an hour to come up to the group, who was poised to meet them. She could see the banners before she could really make out individual faces. There it was, the banner of the Orc King, waving beside another banner, her banner. She could not help but smile when she saw them, feeling pride at what she'd managed to accomplish in such a short time.
She first saw Durbûrz standing with Hugi, and she saw the relief in his eyes when he spotted her among the Rohirrim. Then she saw two familiar faces standing nearby, one with shining white hair that was hard to look over, the other with pale golden strands that matched a member of their riding group.
"Gil-Galad! Oropher!" she gasped. Théoden took a moment to appreciate that the woman beside him, orc or not, was friends with a lot of influential people. Kings and elves and Lords…
The four approached their group, two on wolf-back and two riding horses. Cerena noted with interest that Hugi and Oropher rode the horses, while Durbûrz was riding Fleepaw, and Gil-Galad was astride a large black wolf. Its pale blue eyes shined out of its dark fur like dim stars.
"Well met, King of the Grasslands!" Hugi said.
"Well met, master Orc. What business have you in Rohan?" King Théoden asked, using Common tongue for the benefit of these visitors.
"We ride in defense of the Rohirrim, and those who cannot ride for themselves. There is an army amassing in Isengard, one that has set its sights on the fortress of the Hornburg. He seeks to take it forcefully from the troops collected there and seat his army in its place," Hugi said. She heard Théoden swear under his breath, but he seemed stalwart nonetheless.
"That fortress cannot fall to him. It is protected by several hundred at least," he said. He did not remember the exact number of men that were able to be called at the Deep, but it had stood for quite a while with no success in taking it.
"Who is there? What sort of forces can hold it?" Cerena asked. Here Théodred answered.
"The Hornburg has been a place of respite for many displaced by Saruman's forces. People whose homes have been destroyed have gone there to spare themselves. The men are usually armed and sons begin training with a sword," he said.
"So a bunch of farmers and boys," Durbûrz noted, his orange eyes scanning the faces of the group of Rohirrim. "Hmm. You seem to have a large amount of civilians with you. It would be unwise to bring so many unable to fight."
Théoden regarded the orc king. He was not of the same kind of stock of the orcs he was used to seeing. He was bigger, taller, smoother of tongue and face. His skin color was off, a greenish-grey that looked almost like dead flesh, and his eyes were the color of a bright marigold. At his side was a sword of dark steel that looked finely made, and beneath his tunic glittered a fine mail shirt. On his brow he wore a dark iron circlet, an upside-down crescent resting perfectly on his forehead.
"You are not one of Saruman's orcs," Théodred observed. Durbûrz looked down his nose a bit.
"I am not. I am a High Orc. We are the cleverest and strongest of Morgoth's creations, his masterpiece, if you will. We were recently ousted into the knowledge of the free peoples, and have an unwillingness to return to obscurity. We were alerted to the machinations of the white wizard by allies of the elves, and have traveled here in haste to assist," he said, gesturing to the two elves.
"These are the elves that campaigned with me," Cerena inputted.
"You trust these men?" Théoden asked. Cerena looked at each of them. Hugi, with his mottled face and red eyes, Gil-Galad and Oropher both with fair, pale complexions, and Durbûrz with his verdant skin and citrine eyes.
"At different points in time I have trusted each of them with my life. I would do so again in an instant," she said confidently.
"So what do you propose?" Théoden asked. Cerena was floored for a moment. She was struck with the heaviness of the situation. The King of Rohan was asking her opinion on how best to help his people. Not only was she an orc, but she was a woman. Women did not get authority around these areas. At least, not most of the time, and not women that were honorable. Around this point in history the women who took power for themselves tended to strike down men and women alike to get their own way.
But what to actually do? They were not that far from Dunharrow. Probably several hours walk at the most, with some of the older folk needing to rest more often. But Helm's Deep a hard day's ride.
"Send the civilians to Dunharrow for safety and then take everyone who can wield a sword and ride for the Hornburg. This will protect those who cannot fight and still give you a number of fighters to hold the fort," Cerena said. The King nodded, as if this was something he had thought of, or simply agreed with.
Between them they decided to send Éowyn with the civilians, as well as several female Uruks from Hugi's band. Hugi and Durbûrz together had a force of about two hundred, and Cerena knew that Gandalf would be coming with Éomer and Erkenbrand with nearly a thousand strong.
"And where will Cerena go?"Durbûrz asked. There were many eyes on her.
"I will go wherever I can be more useful. In this I will defer," she said.
"She's useless with the civilians," Durbûrz said.
"She cannot fight. She is with child," Théoden said. She saw the orange eyes of the Orc King on her.
"Will there not be women and children at the fort to be taken care of? You said families were there," Durbûrz said instead.
"Aye, she could go with us to the fort and then go underground with the others. Someone as highly respected as the Brown Lady would be a great boon to the morale," Théodred said.
"Morale isn't a reason to needlessly risk two lives if they can be safeguarded," Théoden said sharply to his son. The man was a great soldier, loyal and honorable, but sometimes he missed common things that had nothing to do with fighting.
"Then it will be so. I will go with Éowyn to the Hold and pray for good news and fortune for you all," she said. There was a moment of time for her to embrace her friends and receive a promise that they would talk from Durbûrz, before the groups began to split. Men, young men, and even a few that were barely breaking from puberty were split from their wives, mothers, sisters, and children. Cerena tried not to hear the crying of children too young to understand and the sobs of young wives who were heartbroken. Many of the older women gathered the young wives up, giving maternal support and silent strength.
Hugi spared three Uruk ladies from his group, and they brought up the rear of their group of civilians, while Cerena and Éowyn rode at the front. It did not take long to get to the Hold once they had separated, and Cerena was quite impressed with it. The fort was built high on a mountain's face, with a winding road that acted as a natural defense. It was steep, but not overly so, and Cerena imagined that some well placed water during cold weather could make this place nigh impenetrable. It was no wonder they had set out for this place.
When all of the people were gathered into the hold, there was an uncharacteristic quiet through the place. With so many people crammed into this place one would think it would be more boisterous, but it was not so. The atmosphere was heavy. Cerena busied herself with Éowyn, putting away supplies that had been gathered in haste and seeing to the infirmary. There would be many injured at Helm's Deep and once the army of Rohan had mustered and marched for Gondor, all able healers would likely be dispatched there to treat the wounded. She supposed if she were still caught in Rohan she would go there to help them.
Damn Saruman and his delusions of grandeur. She wanted to go home and be held. Every day that passed here was another day she wouldn't be with Elrond, and another day closer to her delivery date…and her possible death. The longer it took her to attempt to get back to Rivendell the more she was thinking that being stuck in Gondor to give birth was what she was fated to do. And that made her incredibly angry, because it did not give her a chance to even save herself, to change a vision with an unsavory outcome. Damn the Valar for their meddling!
By the time the sun set she was exhausted. Haldir had shadowed her all day, making himself busy with the same chores she was doing, whether it was seeing to the moving of sacks of food, folding of bandages, or guarding her when she broke in the middle of separating sacks of corn and flour and sobbed in a corner. It was an uneasy night, and despite her ire at the Valar she sent up a prayer for her friends and those who were to be fighting Saruman's army. As a matter of fact, she also prayed for Merry and Pippin, who would be dealing with Isengard about now.
She sighed softly when she was finally able to wind down for a bit. Éowyn had gathered her and brought her to one of the only private places in the Hold, which was a handful of rooms for the most important visitors or the King himself, should he be in the Hold. Cerena was extremely grateful. She was also grateful for silent Haldir, who stood outside their door with his arms crossed.
"If there is enough supplies, I'll make a pallet on the floor," she told the Lady of Rohan. Éowyn actually looked offended.
"Think you that I am a barbarian? Nay, you will sleep in this bed with me! It's actually for a married couple, but there's no reason we can't sleep back to back and both be warm and comfortable," she said reasonably. Cerena was secretly relieved. She did not dress down much, and neither did her companion, removing only her shoes and the wraps on her feet before crawling into bed. Éowyn did not come immediately, sitting at a table nearby and making a few notes on supplies. The steady scratching of the quill slowly lulled Cerena off to sleep.
She awoke to the sound of giggling. At first she thought it was Éowyn, and was going to wring her skinny neck, but slowly realized there was more than one voice. Alarmed, she tried to steady her breath to make it seem like she was still asleep.
"We know you have woken, little one," came a melodious voice. Cerena opened her eyes and noticed she was outside, the night sky incredibly bright and the stars twinkling impossibly. She sat up from the soft cool grass and looked at those who had spoken.
"Where am I?" Cerena asked. She noticed her body had a slight fading tinge, a bit like when she was with Mairon.
"Your spirit is in our home,"
There were three ladies, all of beauty and light. One had skin that was dark and smooth like silk, and seemed to have a highlighting glow that twinkled like stars. Her hair was white as snow and sparkled like it had been washed in diamonds. Her eyes were the color of a galaxy, swirling with blues and purple. Another had skin pale as cream and hair like spun silver, with expressive, soft brown eyes. The last lady appeared almost younger than the others, yet still had that feeling of ancient wisdom about her. Her skin was peachy pink with a youthful, dewy look. Her eyes were a fetching shade of an almost painfully pale lavender. Cerena studied them, trying to figure out who they were.
"Lady Varda," she said, looking at the woman with dark skin. The Lady smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. Cerena looked at the other two. The youngest looking one giggled softly. "Vána, the Ever-young," Cerena guessed. Vána clapped her hands and laughed. Cerena looked at the last lady, but could not determine any obvious clues about her identity. The lady stood fluidly from her sitting position and twirled like a ballerina. She was as fluid as water, moving in an arc before bowing to Cerena. "Lady Nessa," Cerena said. Nessa smiled and then returned to her seat in the grass.
"Come, sit with us, child," Varda said. Cerena approached them nervously, feeling incredibly unworthy to be in their presence. Varda patted the grass next to her, and Cerena eased herself into a sitting position there. "You are having quite the time," Varda said simply. Cerena looked at their faces, beings who had literally seen the world being formed and helped in its formation, and did the only thing that seemed sensible: she burst into tears.
"I can't do this…I want to go home…and I don't know what you all want me to do with Mairon….he doesn't want help…and now I'm pregnant…and I'm so angry, and hurt, and scared…and I don't want to die!" Cerena was crying great, gulping sobs that made her shudder and turned her face into a flushed, ugly thing.
Varda could not gather the girl into her arms as she wished to, simply because they had not come to her on the path of dreams. She simply wasn't there.
"Oh, you are a brave one to bear so much. Please have faith that the Father will not abandon you," Vána said. "You are doing so well!"
"Well? I'm destroying it all! I'm not even able to fight right now," Cerena snapped.
"And? Your influence…your kindness and strength have moved mountains," Nessa said. "Look and see what you have done,"
Cerena wiped her eyes to see Nessa holding a silver bowl in front of her. She leaned a little closer to the lady and could only see clear, swirling water for a moment, before the water changed to show a scene before her. It was the fighting at Helm's Deep. It was like watching the movie again, except the picture rippled with the water…and… She could see orcs fighting with Men of Rohan, instead of against them. The water flashed and she could see Durbûrz fighting, even intercepting the sword of a Dunlender before he could strike Aragorn. The Ranger looked at the Orc-King and gave him a nod before moving off in another direction. Gil-Galad and Oropher were back to back, swirling like a whirlwind of death. Oropher was using both swords to cut a broad swath of destruction, while Gil-Galad was using his spear to cut up underneath the helmets of the enemy, knocking them clean off as his spear-tip erupted through the top of their skulls.
Her Uruks were fighting with even more of the broad, dark-skinned Uruks. There were more Uruks there now then there were when they had set off for the fort, even an occasional, smaller snaga twsting to get a pot shot in on one of the larger cousins. Cerena gasped.
"They took some of Saruman's Uruks. They betrayed the wizard and turned against the host army. My god, there must be three hundred orcs fighting with Rohan!" Cerena said in awe. Then the scene changed again, and she saw the inside of the Hold of Dunharrow. One of the she-Uruks that had come with them was rocking a crying young girl while the mother comforted the little one's brother, a smile on her face as the children finally started to calm down.
The water swirled and Cerena saw Uruks carrying humans and other Uruks on their shoulders, hitting the hills just as the dam of the Isen was destroyed, and the pits of the wizard were filled with water, drowning those unfortunate enough to not have gotten the message to flee. She caught a glimpse of a golden-haired Hobbit sweeping an orc babe into his arms before the scene faded again.
Arwen tucked the covers over a sleeping Visht, giving him a kiss on his forehead, before walking quietly from the room and closing the door.
A broad Uruk dressed uncharacteristically in the farmer's garb of the Rohirrim wrapped his arms around a golden-haired woman of Rohan, resting his chin on her head and his palms on her belly, which was round with child. He was missing an eye, the socket heavily scarred down his cheek and neck.
Two twin girls of orcish descent play with their dolls on the floor while their mother, pale skinned with brown hair, sews in a chair nearby. She had four large scars that ran from her hairline, over her face, and to her jaw, likely the result of the swipe of a claw. A human man with tanned skin comes through the door with a bow in hand and a brace of rabbits over his shoulder, a teenage boy with the same tanned skin trailing after him holding his quiver. The two girls get up and run to the door to greet him. He picks each of them up and kisses their laughing faces, before they return to their mother's feet on the floor.
"These are not scenes that would have come to pass without your influence," Vána said. Cerena reached up and wiped away tears she wasn't aware that she'd shed.
"As for Mairon, that naughty boy, you tell him that we are vastly aware of what he did. Perhaps of anything you can tell him, tell him Arinrossë has returned to us," Varda said. Cerena gasped.
"She did? What happened?" Cerena said. But Varda shook her head slightly.
"Tell him that she told us what he had planned to do. It was foolish to try and match his wits against Melkor," Varda continued.
"Yea I told him that, too. I told him you all would forgive him if he'd only ask for it. That's…that's true isn't it?" Cerena asked.
"Mairon did a lot of bad things," Vána said, looking sad. "He began with a good intention and slowly was changed into something altogether bad," the Valier said, looking vexed.
"Yes, he did bad things, and I don't think he should get away with them…but the incredible torture he endured under Morgoth…" Cerena shivered as she remembered the sight of him, flesh in tatters as Morgoth tended his wounds. "He created that stupid Ring to try and lock away the corruption that had crept into his soul, but it ended up overpowering him and breaking his mind in two. Mairon is still there…but Sauron wants that Ring back," Cerena finished.
"He must not get it," Varda said.
"Well I'm certainly not giving him the fucking coordinates, thank you ever-so-much," Cerena snapped caustically. Then she realized who she was bitching at and looked rather sheepish. "M'sorry," she muttered.
"I normally would not appreciate such insolence, but seeing as you are under an incredible amount of stress, I suppose we can make an exception," Varda said wryly.
"Do you have any advice?" Cerena asked. Vána giggled slightly, looking mischievous.
"You seem to be shaking everything up just fine on your own,"the Ever-Young laughed. Cerena sighed. Again, no guidance. No support from them, who heaped and asked and expected but had nothing to give to her.
"Sweet child," Varda intoned. "We broke a lot of rules to bring you here. We saw the suffering in the world. We saw what had become and were only able to choose a single point in which to break the stride of history," Varda said.
"And you couldn't choose the moment Melkor sang in Discord? You couldn't choose the destruction of the Trees? You chose this moment, when Arda was already marred, already suffering? Why?" Cerena could not fathom it.
"The decision gave us peace. So much is dependant on this particular moment in history. Many changes that should have been made were left behind, and some that should not have come to be were done," Nessa said with a slight, elegant shrug. Cerena sighed again.
"Please, there must be something you can give me, tell me, help me with! Anything," Cerena implored. The three Valier looked at each other, and Cerena saw the twitching of several eyebrows as they seemed to communicate without words. Varda reached forward and her fingers disappeared as though into a pocket of nothingness, and when she drew her hand back there was a small, glittering item in her fingers. She held her hand towards Cerena, opening her palm to reveal-
"A ring? Are you all daft? Have you been snorting stardust? So much of this shit started because of a ring and you are going to just casually pull one out of the fucking fabric of reality?" Cerena seemed a little hysteric.
"This is no Ring of Power. This is simply a light. Like a candle for you. To remind you that even through the darkest sky the stars still shine. You told the young Lady of Rohan that for every dusk there is a dawn. Here is your reminder of dawn, young one. I know you wish we would show up with powers blazing and the fury of the Father himself on the world, to take Mairon by his ear like a recalcitrant youngling….but our time in Arda is over. At least, for now," Varda said comfortingly. Cerena looked at the glittering ring.
"So it's just a light?" she asked.
"It produces light," Varda replied. Cerena hummed.
"No crazy magical signature that will attract creatures of ill repute like a moth to flame?" she asked.
"This ring produces a light to see by. It has no Will of its own. I give you my word as one who watched the world be knit into place that this artifact is simply a low-magic trinket," the Star-Kindler said, her navy eyes twinkling. Cerena had a strange feeling like she was missing something, and narrowed her eyes at the Valier. But she reached forward and gingerly took the ring. Her hand did not touch Varda's, as she was not really there, but she did pick up the ring. She was very tempted to ask how it happened.
"Magic," Vána laughed. Cerena quickly thought of a dirty thought, like Morgoth masturbating to two Wargs mating, and the Ever-young yelped and slapped her hands over her eyes.
"Yea that's right, stay out of my head," Cerena grumbled, and slipped the ring onto her finger. It was too big for her index finger, but then it wasn't, sizing itself perfectly. The twinkling faded and it looked like a plain, tarnished metal band. Unimpressive and unlikely to cause interest.
"How do I use it?" Cerena asked.
"Simply will it to light," Varda answered. Cerena held her hand out and wished for a light. A small, star-like light appeared in her palm. It felt slightly warm, almost like holding her hand towards a flame, and was no brighter than a torch. The light was pretty and blue-white, instead of the amber-yellow of fire. She wished it to go away and the light winked out, leaving the tarnished ring in its place.
"Fine. I've got a nightlight. Any suggestions?" Cerena asked. Varda raised a dark eyebrow.
"Use it to light the dark," she said simply, and before Cerena could reply, the scene before her went black and she sat up in bed with a gasp, nearly slamming her face into Éowyn's.
"They have sent word from Helm's Deep that we can return to the city, they were victorious over Isengard's hoard!" the Lady said urgently. Cerena was up, quickly putting on her boots and wrapping up in her cloak. On the way out of their room, she happened to look at her hand to see a plain, dirty-looking ring sitting on her index finger. She kept her hand at her side, not willing to draw any attention to it.
If the Valar thought they were being funny then she would tell them where they could put their jokes. She didn't think it was particularly amusing.
Mairon gagged as the slammed down the mug, the overwhelmingly bitter taste of herbs making his mouth dry up. He immediately picked up another cup, taking several long drags of water. The effect was noticeable but not impressive. He felt some strength return, but it was so far from what he normally was that it was almost laughable.
The medicine man before him looked at him expectantly through the eye-slits of a mask.
"I do feel some measure of strength returning. As promised, the gold will be given to you and supplies sent to your village," he said, his voice soft but powerful. The man bowed low, the tall fathers on his mask nearly sweeping the floor.
"Your generosity is boundless, Lord, and I am eternally honored for having been the one to bring you a useful potion," he mewled.
"Yes, well, I sincerely hope you realize the delicacy of this situation, and appreciate what might happen to a tongue that is too loose. I've heard it's difficult to cast spells with no internal organs," he returned, his voice still soft and sibilant. The man nodded, mask trembling.
"Oh yes, Lord. On pain of death I will not murmur a word of this," he said.
"See that you don't. Now get out," he hissed. The man turned and fled as quickly as he could while still maintaining some modicum of dignity. He looked at the recipe for this strengthening potion, wincing at the lurid ingredients. He could not deny their efficacy, but even still…
Did that damn man realize how hard it was to get the heart of a calf born under the full moon in Mordor? At this time of year? And the fresh herbs?
It was a whirlwind as the army returned, victorious and proud. The most pressingly injured had been left at Helm's Deep to recover, and some of the more mildly injured had returned to Edoras to celebrate. The casualties had not been insignificant, but the sheer surprise of a percentage of the host army turning and fighting against them had been enough to keep Saruman's hoard on edge until the arrival of Gandalf with Éomer and Erkenbrand. Cerena had a fleeting thought that either the book or movie had done this differently, and for the life of her could no longer recall which. Many elements of this story were starting to fade a bit as she lived through the reality of it.
She was regaled with battle stories from the Three Hunters. Even Aragorn had a vibrancy in his countenance as he recalled the battle. Gimli and Legolas were still arguing over who had killed more orcs, and Oropher and Gil-Galad were nowhere to be seen. Durbûrz and a couple of the Uruk captains were celebrating in the Meduseld, while there was apparantly quite a raucous party going on outside the gates of Edoras, where a hasty encampment had been set for the surviving traitors of Saruman.
Cerena had grabbed both Merry and Pippin in a bear hug that left them winded when she'd seen them.
"Oh, Lady! It's so good to see you!" Merry laughed. "But I thought you were heading back to the elves?" Cerena grimaced slightly.
"Aye, I was. My chore to save the Prince of Rohan ended up causing me to miss the window to return before Rohan was assaulted," she said.
"And now? What prevents you from leaving now?" Pippin asked. Cerena was genuinely surprised for a moment. The Rohirrim would muster when Gondor lit the beacons…she could not remember what day that was, but knew it was not long. Once the Rohirrim mustered, they would ride to Gondor and arrive at the battle of the Pelennor, and things would progress quite quickly. If she was not mistaken, the whole damn thing would be done before the month was over. The thought made her shudder.
"I suppose…there's nothing. I will speak with Haldir and see what he thinks we can do. I want to avoid all fighting from this point on, thank you very much," she said matter-of-factly. The Hobbits both snickered, before abandoning her to find more drink. She stood and regretted it, a feeling of nausea and dizziness making the world spin for a moment. The room was too hot and she walked slowly from the Hall, taking the way through the back to find the Garden she and Éowyn had once eaten in.
Flowers did not sleep, per se, but they were always much quieter at night due to the lack of light. The garden was cool and blessedly quiet, and Cerena took a seat on a stone bench.
"Are you alright?"
She looked up to see Haldir standing at the door.
"I'm fine, I just got a little warm and wanted some fresh air," she replied. For a moment there was silence between them. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Gandalf," she said suddenly. He looked at her and tilted his head. He walked more fully into the garden, his elf-skin taking on the same dewy glow under the light of the stars as was common of his people.
"You must understand, Cerena. We mourn differently than mortals. For those who are gifted with death, it is common. Jarring, yes. Permanent, yes. But you are familiar with it. For elves…death is unnatural. It is the opposite of us, it is anathema. And so when someone we care about dies, it is not just our emotions that suffer, it is our very souls that feel the pain. We…we mourned Mithrandír. And then to find that with a word our pain could have been avoided, it seems most cruel," Haldir said honestly. Cerena winced.
"I'm so sorry to have not been able to relieve that pain. But the Fellowship had to believe that Gandalf had gone on. And in a way, he did. Gandalf the Grey died. When he returned it was not the same," she said. Haldir nodded, but still looked irked. "I wanted to run an idea past you," she said softly. He looked up, bright eyes catching the starlight and glowing dimly. "To the best of my knowledge, we should be safe to make a run for Imladris. There should be no reason for us to run across any more or less enemies than we would have before Saruman turned out Isengard against Rohan," she said.
"I see no issue with this plan, but I would like to discuss it with Mithrandír. He might have some insight that others would not," Haldir said. Cerena nodded.
"Of course," she said. Again there was silence. "Um…Haldir?" she finally said. He looked at her expectantly. "I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me. For coming with me, for putting up with me…" she said. Haldir gave her a friendly smile.
"You are not so bad, Cerena. You have a kind soul and a bright spirit. Your language can be a bit coarse at times, but if that's the most negative thing about your personality, I think you've got few problems," he said genuinely.
Cerena woke with a gasp, looking around and cursing when she realized where she was. She had hoped she would not have to deal with Mairon or Sauron for at least a few days, but whoever was mailing her soul like some kind of midnight fucking postcard apparently had other ideas.
"Oh joyous day," came a dull voice. She looked over to see Mairon at his desk, pouring over paperwork.
"Yes, well, your ugly mug isn't the highlight of my evening either. I could be dreaming about butterflies or kittens, but no. I get you," she snapped. He raised a thick, dark brow at her. "Hmph. You seem in better spirits," she said. "Did you sacrifice a goat in the name of your old Master and use its strength to sustain you?"
"You are a mouthy little chit, aren't you?" he asked sharply. Cerena stood from her place on the ground.
"Well, yea, that's probably one of the only things I'm really good at. That and sewing. Would you like me to make you a tunic? I can embroider little eyes on the hem," she said.
"I hate you," he replied calmly. Cerena laughed.
"Oh, the feeling is mutual, trust me," she replied. She approached his desk, looking at the parchment. "Oh neat, is this Mordor's taxes?" she asked, looking at the numbers and tallies.
"What do you know about taxes?" Mairon asked incredulously. What even was this girl? The fact that she even recognized numbers made her uncommon for a woman, especially an orc woman.
"Well, where I come from we have a saying: there's only two things that are certain in this life; death and taxes," she said wryly. She saw a twitch at the side of Mairon's mouth, but he did not respond otherwise. Cerena gave herself a mental victory tally. "Killed anyone interesting recently?" she asked.
"Go away," he said without heat.
"Any fun prisoners in your dungeon?" she asked. He looked at her.
"I don't really keep prisoners long. They tend to pass quickly under the tender ministrations of the stewards of the dungeons of Barad-Dûr," he answered.
"Ha, gross," Cerena said flippantly.
"However, there might be an elf down there. I haven't checked in a while to see if he finally died. He was captured before I returned from Dol Guldur and has been clogging up one of my cells since," Mairon said off-handedly. Cerena did a little mental math on what she could remember.
"That's over eighty years!" she hissed.
"Yes, well, elves are immortal, and unique in the fact that they can eject their souls from their bodies as a defense mechanism. The fact that he hasn't makes him strange, and I think the stewards mentioned him liking the treatment after a time, so it's likely some outlier atoning for some sin he's imagined for himself. Or he's gone mad from not seeing he stars. With elves it could really go either way," he said, before making another mark on his paper.
"God you're boring. Sitting here doing taxes. What an uninteresting specimen you are," Cerena complained.
"Do you think being a Dark Lord is a continuous rain of fiery brimstone onto the heads of those that cross me?" he asked, still looking at the paper.
"Well," Cerena admitted. "I guess I'm just glad to see you not horking up an internal organ, or trying to set me on fire because you're mad I saw you in a moment of weakness," she replied. He pushed the parchment aside.
"What are you wanting to accomplish, here?" he asked her, looking at her intently with bright amber eyes.
"Look, I don't know why I'm here. I don't know who's sending me. It's got to be someone of some kind of power, to simply pluck someone's spirit up and send it not only halfway across Arda, but through whatever protections you leveled on this place. Am I supposed to help you? I don't know," Cerena said.
"There are days when I feel the weight of my sins bowing my shoulders, and I wish nothing more than the soft darkness of Before, when there was nothing. And there are days when my rage takes me over, and I cannot see straight because I am so angry at what has happened. Angry at myself, angry at the world. This Kingdom I built for myself was once magnificent. It is still impressive, but like me it is a dusty relic of an old time. I am…tired," he said. Cerena was surprised at the raw honesty.
"What you have gone through is monstrous. What you have done is, as well. Can you see that?" Cerena asked. He looked away from her.
"You have seen some of the deepest, darkest secrets of my soul. There is none alive in Arda who can say that. But I have had nothing if not much time to think about…everything. I came to Arda with intentions that I thought were good, but they were misguided and arrogant. That arrogance was quite literally beaten out of me. I was crushed and the dust was turned to clay and used to remold me. Then I was fueled by spite and anger. Jealousy…bitterness," he spoke. Cerena could see the weight of regret in the lines of his face.
"Okay, well then what are you going to do about it?" she asked. His clawed hand gripped at the table.
"What can I do? My body is stitched together with magic that is bound to this tower. If I left here I wouldn't stay solid for very long. But my spirit is bound to….my Ring. Even if I gave up this physical form I cannot leave the circles of the world without breaking the bond. I could break it if I had it with me," he said, speaking more to himself than to her.
"Could you? If someone came to you right now and presented you with your Ring, could you honestly pick it up and not use it? Could you put it on and resist its allure?" she asked. He frowned.
"It would be difficult, but I have started casting aside the other me more and more," he replied.
"Then what would it take? What, in all of Eä could give you the strength to stand up to yourself?" Cerena asked, exasperated.
"There is only one who held my heart so tenderly," he told her. "But she is lost to me-"
"Arinrossë returned to Valinor," Cerena interrupted him. He stood so quickly that he almost flipped the table.
"What are you on about? How do you know?" he barked, his voice strained. There was suddenly a red tinge in his eyes, a glimpse of real emotion.
"Well….you know how I appear here before you?" Cerena asked, not really sure how to explain her visits with the Valar. He looked at her expectantly. "Since I've come here, I have in similar ways met with some of the Valar," she said tenderly. "And I recently met with the Ladies Varda, Vána, and Nessa, who told me that Arinrossë had returned, and told them of your, and I quote 'foolish' plan," she said. Then he sat weakly back in his chair.
"But why now? I searched…I looked everywhere for her," he said.
"What made her so hard to find?" Cerena asked curiously. There had to be something she was missing. A Maia's soul didn't just disappear. Something terrible and powerful had to have happened for her to be so locked away from even Mairon's power.
"He…he changed her. Like the others, twisted her into something ugly and unnatural. He would not let me even see her after that. And that bastard Gothmog kept making lewd comments. Oh, how I hated-"
Wait.
"Gothmog? The Balrog captain? She was changed into a balrog?" Cerena asked, feeling as though several pieces were suddenly falling into place. Magic powerful enough to make a Maia's spirit and physical form be locked into a monster's shell.
"Yes, but he hid her. I was not able to find where he-"
"Moria," Cerena said. He looked at her sharply.
"Moria? The piss-pit of the dwarves?" he asked.
"Yes, yes. There was a Balrog in Moria! That had to have been her! If her spirit was just found, then that means she had to be the Balrog that Gandalf-" then she shut her fucking mouth, realizing who she was talking to.
"Gandalf? What has he to do with this? Did he find her? Girl, don't you dare withhold information from me," he said, standing again.
"Gandalf was traveling through Moria," Cerena said. His face twisted and she saw the outer edge or his iris begin to glow like embers.
"Why?" he hissed.
"It doesn't matter! His presence woke the Balrog there. He confronted it and they fought, and fell from the bridge of Khazad-dûm," she said, her voice trembling.
"You speak as though you were there, little one," he said, narrowing his eyes at her.
"I was not," she answered honestly. "He told me of it," she added.
"I see. And when he regaled you with the tale of the mighty balrog, what did he say happened to it?"
"They fought, and he cast the balrog down. Then he died from his wounds and exhaustion," Cerena said. Then Mairon twisted his head slightly.
"Ah, and then?"
"Well, seeing as he told me the story he didn't exactly stay dead. Let's just say that Saruman is no longer the leader of the Istari order," Cerena said. Mairon sat again, looking at her with a mixture of predatory curiosity and anger.
"And the army that I was promised by my brother?" he asked.
"Utterly destroyed by the Rohirrim, rogue Uruks, the Ents and huorns," she told him. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose for several moments.
"But you were told that Arinrossë's spirit had returned to Valinor?" he asked, looking up at her. Cerena nodded.
"It changes little. I still need my Ring to be able for my spirit to leave," he said.
Cerena was about to answer when there was a flash of light from the other corner of the room. Mairon stood quickly and strode to where she could see a round, glass ball sitting on top of a plinth perfectly designed for it, an image swirling on the surface. Mairon reached forward and touched the stone, and Cerena saw it alight with his swirling eye, its slitted pupil wreathed in flame.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice strong but deceptively soft. Cerena made several strides to cross the room.
"What are you doing?" she asked. He had an intense look on his face as he concentrated on the Palantír.
"I see you, little one. Tell me your secrets," he hissed. She heard a sound though the Palantír, like a shuddering sob. "You have seen my Ring. Tell me!"
"Leave him alone!" Cerena said. Mairon's eyes were suddenly alight, swirling and seething with fire as he touched the stone. She reached out and tried to touch Mairon's hand, but her hand went through his wrist.
"I will raze the world of men to retrieve what's mine!" he shouted. Cerena was frightened by the dark look in his eyes.
"Mairon!" she called. He still did not heed her. She wished desperately that she could interact with him as she had with the ring Varda gave her. She looked at her hand where the tarnished band sat, said a short prayer, and brought her hand down on the Palantír with a shout.
The orb was knocked from its pedestal, striking the floor with heavy glass sound and rolling. The image went out and the dark orb rolled. She was then crowded by the Dark Lord, who was lost as Sauron.
"How did you do that?" he asked angrily.
"I don't know!" Cerena gasped. He looked at her hand and inhaled sharply.
"Where did you get that ring?" he asked, his bright anger turning into a hot, simmering fury.
"Varda gave it to me…" Cerena said softly. His eyes widened and for a moment he looked simply shocked, before he let out a bellowing scream that shook the walls of the room. Every lantern and sconce exploded with fire clear to the ceiling, scorching the wall behind them. Flames danced in his eyes and over his hands, crawling up his arms and lighting his entire body on fire for several moments.
"Get out of my presence!" he cried. Cerena was cowed by his anger, no longer willing to play games with the Dark Lord.
"You know I can't come or go willingly," she said quickly. There was another explosion from him, this time shattering all of the lanterns and spilling their oil and flame down the walls. The entire room was surrounded by spits of fire. She could almost feel the heat. She closed her eyes and desperately wished to wake up.
One moment she was there and the next she wasn't. Mairon took several gasping breaths, the energy he had expended suddenly winding him. His strength and anger bled out of him like a barrel with its bottom blown out. He sank to his knees, resting on his hands as oily fire burned under his palms from one of the lamps. He felt hot, grimy tears on his face.
"I am undone. I am undone. What do I do? Arin, what do I do?" he asked the empty room. He opened his eyes and saw the blank Palantír and remembered the little one he'd seen. A Hobbit had his Ring. It had to be that one, so close to the Orthanc stone. A cold calm came over him as he knew what he had to do.
The little one had seen him, and he'd threatened the creature with the burning of Gondor. He'd just have to make that a reality. Long had Minas Tirith stood between his army and conquest of the world. To break his own spirit from its bondage to this world he had to get his Ring. And to get to that creature he needed to be able to march his army forward.
The City of the Tower would have to fall. It was time to muster his forces.
Cerena rolled so fast from the bed that she fell off with a yelp. She scrambled, grabbing her cloak to hold about her and dashing barefooted to the room where the Hobbits were. She was not the only one there. Already Gandalf had Pippin in his arms, the Palantír away from them and covered with a cloak. Legolas was at the edge of the room, looking bewildered and a little startled. Aragorn looked rather grave, and Gimli looked like he hadn't quite woken up yet.
"I saw…Him…" she heard Pippin say.
"Did you tell him anything?" Gandalf asked sharply. Pippin was shaking his head.
"No but…I saw…something else…" Pippin shuddered, trembling like a leaf. Cerena felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "I saw…someone there…with him. It was…Lady Cerena…" he said.
All eyes were suddenly on her in the worst way possible.
A/N: So. Sauron did think that Pippin may have been the one to have his Ring. He was not aware of multiple Hobbits traipsing about the world. So this is accurate.
The ring given to Cerena by Varda. It is not a Ring of Power. While it does have power, it is not the same scope as the Elemental Rings, or the One Ring, or anything like that. It filled a need I had for Cerena to be able to physically interact with her spirit visions. Now, what connection it has to Sauron/Mairon we will have to see.
I've mentioned before that Tolkien himself said that Sauron was not totally evil. The only being that fit that description was Morgoth. Sauron suffered from arrogance and a misguided attempt to make things better because he felt he knew better. I'm using this to my advantage. He is literally torn in two between the angry, vengeful Dark Lord and the more curious, reasonable Mairon. He's still not quite the same Mairon that came to Arda. He is changed, but he still refers to himself by that name in that mindset.
If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me or ask in a review and I can reply in a PM. I do a lot of my updates really late at night where I am, so sometimes tired eyes miss things. :) I'm so glad you guys seem to be enjoying this story. It makes me happy to provide somethings unique and enjoyable. Lol maybe I should adapt it into a novel like Fifty Shades did.
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