Chapter Fifty: Help

Morgoth was waiting for Buffy at the top of the staircase. Nothing made him happier than seeing that bright smile on her face. He had waited so long for her to come willingly to him. Now, at long last, one of his greatest dreams had been realized; her visit clinched their eternal bond as it was intended to.

"I'd like for you to dine with me before you depart my Halls," he said as they entered the sitting room.

"Sounds good to me. I'm famished," she answered, before abruptly coming to a halt. The Slayer's gaze shifted to Morgoth's handsome face. "If you don't mind, Melkor, I'd like to get dressed first. You wouldn't happen to know where my clothing disappeared to."

"Are you referring to those soiled garments that you arrived in?" She nodded. "I had them burned." Before Buffy could reprimand him for destroying her clothes he added, "Do not fret, Melisse. I assure you that I'm not about to let you leave Angband in the nude."

He wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her into the bedchamber. As she sat on the edge of the bed, Melkor opened the mahogany wardrobe revealing many outfits that he had had made especially for her. He pulled out a pair of black breeches with a matching black tunic. He tossed those to her before retrieving undergarments from the bureau. Those too had been made just for her.

"I'm impressed!" remarked the Slayer as she began dressing. "It's like Melkor's boutique. I like it."

"Consider this home when you return from the war. I will see to it personally that all your needs are met, my sweet," he replied lovingly.

"That's nice to know," she replied as she pulled the tunic over her head. "Oh, by the way, have you seen my belt?" she asked as she glanced around the room. "I don't see it anywhere." Buffy narrowed her eyes at Melkor, giving him a questionable look. "Don't tell me you burned that too," she said teasingly.

"Never," he answered with a grin. Melkor pulled the item in question from one of his pockets, the little charms jingled at the movement. "I had it cleaned and repaired all the notches." After pulling on her breeches, he clasped the mystical weapon around her waist.

When the Slayer had finished dressing, she said, "I'm all set… So, what's for breakfast?"

"Whatever your heart desires." Morgoth grasped her hands tenderly in his and looked her over. "My beautiful, Melisse. The most noble, valiant and greatest of the Valier." He flirtatiously planted many kisses on the top of her hand causing Buffy to blush horribly.

The Lord of Angband then led Buffy to the dining chamber. Much to his delight, she once again sat beside him. As they ate, he gave her much advice on how to proceed in the forthcoming attack. She listened attentively to all he had to say, especially about the methods of slaying some of the more formidable members of Illyria's regime. Their firstborn may have managed to convince many to abandon Melkor, but he still housed the oldest and most powerful demons in his stronghold. Their powers were far greater than those of Illyria's minions. It brought the Slayer much comfort knowing that many of those 'people' would be fighting on her side.

After breakfast, Morgoth led Buffy into yet another chamber. It was not his armories, but it housed his favorite weapons. The greatest of these was Grond, the Hammer of the Underworld, a gigantic mace constructed from iron, molten rock and the darkest of magicks.

"Grond is one of my greatest treasures," revealed Melkor as he seized the weapon from its stone cradle. "This was the first weapon that I had made after the completion of Utumno ages ago. So great are its powers that it's capable of breaking the earth with only one blow." He offered the mace to the Slayer. "Take it! But I warn you, it's heavy." Buffy took the Hammer of the Underworld, handling it with little effort. "Never before have I allowed another to handle Grond… until now. I want you to use it in the war."

"Wow! I'm flattered, really I am," she said in awe. Buffy did not like the way the weapon felt in her hand. She only touched the handle yet she could feel evilness emitting from that cursed object. She could feel the wickedness contained within it creeping into her hand. When the tingling sensation reached her elbow, she handed Grond back to its Master. "Actually, I prefer using the weapons from the belt that you made for me. It's prettier and a hell of a lot easier to carry around." Her smiled widened. "Besides, you made it for me. Nothing beats that!"

Morgoth beamed at the Slayer. Her words touched him deeply. He wished that he could make that moment last forever. The way that his beloved was looking at him filled his heart with such joy. The only thing that hampered that perfect moment was his knowing that she'd be leaving Angband all too soon. He carefully placed Grond back on its stand.

"My darling, Melisse," he began as he pulled her into his arms. "My heart already aches knowing that you'll soon leave me."

"It's only for a little while," she answered reassuringly. Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'll be back before you know it. Promise!"

He pressed his lips against hers. Melkor longed to take her back to his bed, but time would not allow it. The moment was lost to the rapping sounds on the chamber door.

"Enter!" he declared, as he affectionately caressed his beloved's cheeks with his blackened hands.

Sauron entered the room; he was dressed entirely in black iron armor.

"My Lord, we are already a quarter of an hour past schedule. The men are anxiously awaiting the Lady," announced the Necromancer.

"So the time is upon us at last," said Melkor with a sigh.

He changed into his monstrous form before accompanying them outside where his armies patiently waited. Sauron informed the Slayer that Illyria's forces had already broken through the walls of Bela and were invading the city. The three of them discussed possible strategies as they descended the many stairs and passageways. They concluded that they would divide their forces: some would be teleported within the wall of the city while the majority would be placed outside the gates, behind their foes. It was known as the hammer and anvil maneuver, a favorite of Morgoth's.

"Listen," began Buffy when they had reached Melkor's armies. "I need to go and inform my people that I'm bringing reinforcements."

"You have not told them?" asked a flabbergasted Sauron.

"No! I wasn't sure that Melkor would help me or not." She turned to the Lord of Angband. "Since you've agreed, I really need to let them know. It would kinda defeat the purpose if my people attacked yours as soon as they arrive. Do I have your permission to teleport from you lands?"

"Yes," answered Morgoth. "Hurry back." He then undid the spell that would prevent any to come and go in his realm as he or she wished.

The Slayer disappeared in a blink of an eye.

Sauron had been right; Illyria's forces had indeed broken through the wall of the city in numerous places. Many buildings were burning beneath the jet-black sky; screams and cries of despair reverberated throughout that entire region. Her firstborn had stationed her own war machines along the northern and southern boundaries of the wall. Huge boulders and other wicked objects were hurled over the barrier, destroying many of the feeble structures contained therein.

The Slayer used her telepathic ability to communicate with all her generals and chieftains. She notified them that she was about to return with Melkor's minions, and forbade all from harming those demons in any way. Many were disturbed by that news, especially the elves, but Buffy didn't care. Without Morgoth's armies, the allies would totally be crushed by Illyria's forces.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," she had declared before vanishing again.

Melkor had been very generous in providing Buffy with legions of his most potent beasts. Out of seven hundred thousand 'men,' only a hundred thousand were yrch, the balance was Balrogs, vampires, and demons of the most nefarious kind. Their objective was to bring Illyria to total ruination. So great was Morgoth's love for the Slayer, that he left very few to guard his stronghold in northern Beleriand. Now would have been the ideal time for the Elves to make war with the Dark Foe, if only they knew of his current predicament.

It was not long afterwards that the Slayer departed Angband along with Sauron and the demonic hosts. It was agreed to beforehand that the armies would be dispersed along the perimeter of the city as well as inside it. Buffy's magics rapidly depleted as she teleported her newfound forces to their appointed destinations. The acolytes of Illyria were greatly dismayed by the sudden arrival of Morgoth's armies. The Lord of Angband's minions viewed their former brothers as traitors and showed them no mercy. The hatred of their Master filled them with such contempt that the enemy fell before them in greater numbers than previously.

The allied forces recommenced their assault causing the enemy to flee from their positions. Morgoth's minions went to work either destroying the hurling engines located outside of the wall or using them against their foes. Those that had entered the city earlier had nowhere to run. The monsters and men had them trapped, killing every last one of them.

As Buffy stood on the southern wall with Sauron, she watched the enemy begin their retreat. Things had finally shifted in their favor. Her strategy was to move their renewed forces south to the city of Bâb-edh-Dhrâ. They would annihilate all that stood in their way; whether they fled the depths of Angband with Illyria long ago or were bred in captivity at Vahla ha'nesh. The Slayer had no intention of harming the men that dwelt in Numeira, regardless of how evil they were. She would deal with them in her own way, when time allowed. Everybody presumed that the final confrontation would be between mother and daughter. And nothing would please Buffy more than defeating her firstborn in her own city.

Although the Slayer was in a weakened state, she refused to stand idly by to watch the action from afar. She wanted to be a part of it! She returned to her pavilion with Sauron and ordered the chariot hitched to the lions. The evil Maia was dumbfounded when they took to the air. He had never before seen flying lions. He knew that Melkor would have killed to gain control of those magical flying beasts. No matter how much his lord tried, he never mastered the ability to fly in bodily form. It was just not destined to be.

Buffy was able to regain the Gloves that belonged to Olofin and Marto. They surrendered their weapons to her despite their better judgment. They both loathed the fact that she entrusted that mystical weapon to the hand of Sauron. Yet who were they to deny her? She was the commander-in-chief. Her word was law. All had to swallow their pride and put aside their hostile feelings if they wished to achieve victory. If that meant fighting alongside the monstrous creatures of Morgoth, then so be it.

The Slayer had shown the Necromancer how the Glove worked, leaving him totally mystified by the device. He was quite surprised to learn that Buffy herself had designed that extremely powerful weapon. It appeared that Melkor was right all along. She possessed an incredible gift for crafting extraordinary implements of war. That alone showed him how important it was that his lord's plan come to fruition. They needed Buffy as much as she needed them.

Sauron didn't know how much time had passed before he insisted that Buffy land the chariot and rest. He could sense her weariness. One of his greatest attributes was his ability to read people, more particularly, the Slayer. She didn't protest, and soon they found themselves ground level at the northern part of the city. The evil Maia followed her into her pavilion, refusing to let her leave his sight. He was not about to violate the orders of Morgoth. As the exhausted Slayer crawled into bed, the Necromancer removed his armor and sat in a nearby chair.

As Buffy drifted to sleep, Sauron examined the Glove that he had wielded in battle. After seeing that weapon in action, he longed to keep it for himself. He was beginning to understand why many in Angband called her Ishtar, for she truly did possess an innate knowledge of things that brought about death and destruction. He wondered if Aulë had shared the many secrets of Arda with her many millennia ago, secrets that he didn't share with his own servants. It seemed apparent to him that the Slayer had no idea how extremely powerful she was. Even though her powers had increased over time, she hadn't even come close to reaching her full potential.

The Slayer stirred in her sleep, disrupting the evil Maia's thoughts. Slowly, he rose to his feet, the Glove still in hand. Sauron stood next to the bed; he saw how weak and vulnerable she was. Now would have been the perfect time for him to blast her to smithereens, but the Necromancer did something quite different. He laid the mystical weapon back on the chair and crouched beside the bed. He reached out a calloused hand and began stroking Buffy's short golden hair. Softly, he began to sing. His voice appeared to have a calming effect on her.

When Buffy remained motionless for a while, he began to wonder about the words of his Lord:

"The connection is now complete," he had told him the morning after she had arrived in Angband.

Sauron wanted to see that for himself. His hand slid down her neck, her skin felt so soft and supple beneath his fingers. He had started to pull the neck of her tunic down when he heard a voice from behind.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked a shocked Úrion. His eyes bore into the evil Maia.

The startled Necromancer leapt to his feet. He turned toward his co-conspirator, angry by his sudden appearance. "That is not your business," he hissed before hastily leaving the chamber. The evil Maia needed some air. Once Úrion had determined that Buffy was alright, he immediately took off after Morgoth's lieutenant.

While Sauron had thought that his soothing song ended the Slayer's restless sleep that was in fact not the case. It was the music from Ulumúri, the great horn of Ulmo, that had accomplished that task. For Buffy had begun to experience one of those supernatural dreams…

She found herself cloaked in black beside the mystical pool in Ossiriand. Sitting on a flat stone by the water's edge was Salmar, playing the most enchanting melody that she had ever heard. It had been a long while since Buffy had last seen the servant of the Lord of Waters. She remained in a trancelike state, listening to the captivating tune. The sights, sounds, and smells of her beloved homeland overwhelmed her senses. It was a hauntingly beautiful moment.

A loud plopping sound broke the spell; Salmar had dropped the instrument into the spring. The aquamarine robes that he wore shimmered beneath the moonlight as the Maia slowly rose to his feet. Buffy stood there quietly as the old man approached her. She wasn't sure if he harbored any ill will towards her in regards to their last meeting. They had not parted on the friendliest of terms.

"Greetings, Dagnir."

"Salmar," she replied with a slight nod of her head. "It's been a while since you've invaded my dreams." She folded her arms across her chest, eyeing the Maia cautiously.

"Indeed it has." Both his face and tone were grave. "I know that you are not one for small talk, so I'll get right to it. Ulmo has sent me. He wants to know about your breast… "

Buffy's eye brows nearly disappeared into her hairline. "What?" she queried with a laugh. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"My Lord wants to know if his vision has come true, that the Mark of Morgoth has disappeared from your flesh."

"What?" queried the confused Slayer. At first, she thought he might have been joking in order to break the ice, but it soon became very clear that he was serious.

"Do you bear the Mark or not, Bella?"

"Of course I do," she replied tersely. Salmar gave her a questionable look. Buffy frowned in return. She turned around, her back facing the Maia, and peeked down her top. She couldn't see; it was too dark. "The light's not strong enough or something. I mean, I know it's there… it's been there for years." She tilted her body at odd angles, trying to get the faint light from the moon to shine down her tunic.

"For Eru's sake!" exclaimed Salmar with an air of frustration in his voice. "Just show me!"

An irritated Buffy glanced over her shoulder. "I'm not gonna show you my boobs!"

The Maia shifted his feet nervously. "I only ask on behalf of my Lord. He must know whether you continue to bear the Mark. I would not ask if it were not of the utmost importance." The urgency in his tone made Buffy feel highly uncomfortable. She turned and faced him before thrusting up her tunic, revealing her bosoms.

"It's kinda dark," she said uneasily. "I don't know if you can see much in this light." As Salmar took a step closer, his body began to emit a soft white light like Buffy's had done on numerous occasions in the past. "Oh damn, I can do that too," she added, feeling stupid that that thought hadn't occurred to her before. Despite her attempts, she did not go aglow. "I guess my magics haven't returned yet." The hunched over Maia looked at her breasts with squinted eyes. Only moments later, his eyes glistened with dismay, as he stood upright again. Buffy glanced down; her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when she noticed that the Mark was gone. "How can it disappear? What does that mean?" she asked anxiously, pulling her top back down.

A dejected-looking Salmar silently walked back to the flat stone beside the pool and sat down. He crossed his legs, before burying his face in his hands. He then wept. Buffy didn't know what to make of the situation. She knew that the Mark's vanishing had to be bad, but had no idea how bad it actually was. Obviously, it must have been pretty bad to bring Salmar to tears. She sighed heavily before joining him.

"We had assumed that you were still under his thrall," mumbled the old man between sobs. The Slayer remained quiet, staring at the ripples on the waters surface.

"This has to do with my visit to Angband, doesn't it?" she asked in a composed voice. From the corner of her eye, she saw Salmar nod, his face still concealed by his hands. Buffy was sure that it meant something ominous, but, in all honestly, she was relieved that the Mark was gone. "So, what does it mean? 'Cause I gotta tell you, Salmar, your reaction really kinda killed what should have been a happy moment for me. I've always despised having that black Mark. As far as I'm concerned, it's good riddance!"

The old man lifted his head; he turned his tear streaked face towards her. Buffy met his gaze. "You don't understand, Dagnir," he began. "Your union with Melkor goes beyond flesh. You're now bound to his soul. The Mark is no longer relevant. It goes much deeper than that. Your fates are intertwined. His fate is yours." He wiped his eyes on his shimmering sleeve.

Salmar's revelation had very little effect on her. She had always assumed that the Mark meant that she was bound to Morgoth, that wasn't anything new. It seemed apparent that the Valar had just figured that out, or at least, some of them.

"Don't worry about it, Salmar." She patted his knee comfortingly. "You haven't told me anything that I didn't already know. Life goes on." She smiled. "Besides, I've been known to thwart a prophecy here and there. Don't underestimate my abilities. I am the Slayer after all."

"I suppose that it is I who lack a true understanding of what that truly means," he replied. "I cannot fathom what you must have to deal with. Neither Ulmo nor I condemn you for any of your past deeds. There are many in Valinor that believe in you, Manwë no less." He rose to his feet before helping the Slayer to hers as well. "I must say that I rejoice in seeing that my words do not alarm you."

"So, if Manwë's on my side, does that mean that the Valar are ready to help me?" she queried.

"I'm afraid not," he answered with a shake of his head. "Even though Manwë Súlimo is King of Arda, he will not go against the will of the Council. However, that does not mean that my Lord has forsaken you. His love for you is great and he has asked me to deliver a token of that love to you." He gave her a small smile before walking to the edge of the pool. A second later, a long, silver three-pronged object shot out of the water like a rocket, the Maia snatched it with his hand once it cleared the surface. He laid the weapon on his open palms. "This is the Trident of Ulmo," began Salmar. "Long ago, it proved pivotal in defeating Melkor in the War of the Powers. This was the instrument responsible for bringing about the downfall of Utumno, thus delivering the Elves from evil. It only seems appropriate that the weapon used to deliver the Eldar should also be used to deliver Mankind. Consider this a mighty gift from the one of the greatest of the Aratar."

Buffy looked at the proffered weapon with wonderment in her eyes. She was eager to take the blessed object, but hesitated. "I'm not worthy of receiving it," she said faintly. The Slayer shifted her gaze to Salmar. "I can't accept it."

"Nonsense!" barked the Maia. "Ulmo deems that you are worthy, otherwise I wouldn't be here! It would insult my Lord if you did not take it."

"But Salmar… "

"I cannot take no for an answer." He forced the weapon into her hand. She instantly felt its powers course through her body when her fingers clasped the long silver shaft. It was similar to what she had experienced when she held Grond, except for the fact that the Trident emitted wholesome and goodly magics, not wickedness. From that moment on, Buffy knew that she would never part with that hallowed object again.

"Give Ulmo my thanks," said the grinning Slayer. "I'll treasure this always." Only a moment later, the Trident vanished from her grasp. "Hey, where did it go?" asked a startled Buffy. She glanced all around in search of the mystical weapon. Salmar chuckled.

"This is but a dream, my dear. Look in that copper trunk of yours when you wake and you shall find it housed inside," he replied. "My time is up. I must return to my Lord. I wish you good fortune in your endeavors." He turned his back on her.

"Salmar," she called. The Maia looked over his shoulder. "Do the Valar still want to put me before the Ring of Doom?"

"That depends," he replied coyly.

"On what?"

"Whether you succeed or fail in your war. Farewell!" He then dove into the pool and disappeared from sight…

Buffy opened her eyes only to find Sauron leaning over her, his hand grasping the neck of her tunic. She had no time to think. Her slayer reflexes automatically triggered its own defense mechanism; she punched the Necromancer on the side of the head, sending him reeling into the pole in the center of the room.

"What are you - some kind of pervert?" she exclaimed as she jumped to her feet, her balled fists at their ready.

"OW!" The Necromancer rubbed the side of his head as he used the pole to help him to his feet. "You didn't have to hit me!"

"Then keep your foul hands to yourself!" A wicked grin came to her face. "Or perhaps I should just tell Melkor that his devoted servant was trying to cop a feel of his Lady."

Sauron's eyes widened. "There's no need to do that!" replied the horror-struck Maia. "I… I… "

"Get out!" she yelled. He didn't need to be told twice. He quickly left her bedchamber.

Buffy shook her head. She knew what he was doing. Sauron, like Salmar, wanted to see whether the Mark was still there or not. The Slayer hoped that she wouldn't have to contend with any more people trying to sneak a peak at her breasts. She immediately went to her copper trunk, undid the lock and looked inside. The coveted Trident of Ulmo rested at the bottom. She closed the lid and re-locked it before leaving to get an update from her generals.

The Slayer had learned that the evildoers continued to flee south with her people in hot pursuit. They were now several miles south of Bela. She decided that the time had come for them to move their encampment further south. As they packed their belongings onto the wagons, additional mortal forces arrived from the north. These newcomers were greatly dismayed by the never-ending darkness. With no sun, they could grow no crops, and their people were starving. They were told that if they joined the wars to their south, they would hunger no more. It was whispered amongst them that the Mother Goddess would provide for them, if they aligned themselves with her. That is why they came. The followers of Melkor chose to side with Buffy. In return, she fed the mortal hordes lembas, which the good people of Folkvang still churned out on a daily basis.

The men from the northern cities were instructed to collect the weapons and gear from those that had fallen in battle, for the Slayer no longer had any more weapons to give them. All those great people set out from Bela, some on horseback, most on foot. Buffy rode along with the generals; they were surrounded by many banners including that of Morgoth's (sable - unadorned.)

Thousands upon thousands of dead bodies in various stages of decomposition littered the plains. The stench was repulsive. Many of the soldiers had wrapped perfumed drenched cloths around their faces (similar to cowboys in old western movies from 'modern times') in an attempt to keep the vileness from penetrating their nostrils. The mortals from the north had the most unpleasant task of having to remove the mail and armor from the rotting flesh of the fallen. It was the grossest thing that Buffy had ever witnessed.

It was not long afterwards that the allies reached the outskirts of Numeira. Some of Illyria's minions sought refuge within the walls of that city while most continued to flee to Bâb-edh-Dhrâ. Buffy summoned the potent demon Ollok to come forth from Melkor's troops.

"Use your magicks to confine those within the city. I don't want any to escape," she ordered.

"Why don't we just kill them all and be done with it," suggested the towering monstrous figure.

"No! I want them trapped. I'll deal with them later. Do as I say or you'll pay dearly!"

"As you wish, Lady Ishtar," replied the demon with a nod of his head. "I will place a bubble around the city." A bubble was what most people in 'modern times' referred to as a force field. The monster uttered his incantation and only moments later, an invisible barrier was placed around the city. None could depart whether by foot, portal or teleporting. They were in their own self-contained prison. Despite the fact that Buffy's armies besieged the walled city of Numeira, the degenerates continued to pursue their acts of depravity with renewed vigor, fearing that the End would soon be upon them.

Buffy instructed her hosts to continue their march south. She had no interest in dealing with the wicked mortals at that time. The demonic creatures of Illyria had to be eliminated first. When they reached the great hill between the two most evil cities in the East, the Slayer chose to make her encampment on that great mound. The visibility was excellent and she could observe the goings-on in both Numeira and Bâb-edh-Dhrâ with ease. Only she and her generals were permitted to erect their lodgings on that site, the others set up camp at the bottom of the mount, healers to the north, warriors to the south.

Sauron had become Buffy's chief advisor during that time. He had a mind for warfare, like she, and after the incident with her tunic, he had been on his best behavior. His advice was sound and the Slayer found that she and the Necromancer saw many things eye to eye.

"You are the commander of these armies," he said to her. "Do not waste your energies fighting any longer. It's time to see what your men are made of. Only with experience does one become great."

Buffy mulled his words over in her head. She believed them to be true. This was not just her war; it belonged to her people as well. The time had come for some of those men to fulfill their destinies, to become the heroes that they were fated to be.

When the command post was set up, the Slayer had her throne placed outside her pavilion where she could watch the battle from the hilltop. Sauron sat to her right, Luthor to her left. Many generals and their messengers milled around, waiting to deliver Buffy's instructions to those on the battlefield.

Most of the survivors from Illyria's armies managed to reach the safety of the walled city of Bâb-edh-Dhrâ. Buffy's firstborn was infuriated to see that her numbers had diminished greatly. Her agitation grew when she witnessed the numerous hosts of her mother encircling her own city. She had had enough. It was time to bring out the big guns.

Already, the engines of Bâb-edh-Dhrâ were flinging large stones or spiked balls of iron that exploded upon impact, spraying the allies with smaller balls of fire. Those implements of war caused Buffy's men to back off from the northern gates of the city. Illyria's true purpose was to position one of her greatest warriors at that location - a tall, blue menacing creature with black eyes.

The flickering flames from the bright lamps atop the towers cast eerie shadows along the white stone barrier. A series of bells rang out in the darkness, signaling that it was time for that monster to rise. As the beast climbed the steps to the bulwark, the men in the towers shot flaming arrows at the allies. Buffy's troops worked feverishly assembling their own engines that they would employ against her firstborn. The battering ram was the first implement to be completed. Under the cover of many shields, her men moved the device closer to the iron gates.

Buffy and the generals watched the scene with nervous anticipation. None had any problems seeing the action from two leagues away. The Slayer gasped when she saw the towering blue demon step onto the battlement above the gateway to the city. Immediately, her mind flashed back to her time in Angband when she was under the yoke of Morgoth, and pregnant with Illyria:

The pregnant Slayer excitedly showed Melkor the many demonic creatures that she had brought into being on her own. As they lay in an enchanted sleep, she showed him the monster that she had made in mockery of one of the Valar.

"This one is especially evil, lover," she had said with a wicked laugh to the Lord of Angband. "He's the total package. Only those with hatred in their hearts can withstand his powers, as he is judge, jury and executioner rolled into one. He is the counterpart of Námo, for I call him The Judge. He is the destroyer of all things righteous, and he is my gift to you, my beloved husband."

"He is beautiful, Melisse," Morgoth had replied. "My, how your talents have grown… "

"Shit!" she exclaimed as the blood drained from her face. Buffy had developed a tendency to ignore the things that she had done when she was evil. Now, it was coming back to bite her on the ass. Big time. She only hoped that her men recognized that demon from the books of lore and the tales that were told numerous times of the past foes that she had encountered or defeated. The Judge was capable of causing great harm to her mortal armies. She was eager to join the others on the battlefield to help eradicate that spawn of wickedness.

"It is time for your men to rise to the occasion," informed Sauron, as he placed a comforting hand on hers.

Luthor shook his head in dismay. "The world is doomed," uttered the old man.