Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me.
Author's Note: Again, thanks to all of you who took the time to review. . I have corrected an earlier error which I spotted but was too tired to correct late last night and which was spotted by Chisscientist. Thank you for pointing this out. I do realise that I have included a whole race of beings into the Tolkien world but their origins are in fact documented in various works ranging from the Book of Enoch, early archaeological and anthropological research in Iraq, the mountains of Kurdistan and the borders of Iran which took place in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Obviously such research was brought to a halt by the unsettled political and military events in that region of the world. My version of the 'angels' is based on five years of research and reading and is a mixture of fact and fantasy and should be accepted as such. The Book of Enoch deals with the angels who fell and who fathered the Nephilim and also with Enoch's trip through heaven in which he was escorted by Raguel. Those angels are referred to as Watchers (the word Grigori is a direct Greek translation of the word Watcher, meaning Those Who Watch and Never Sleep. They were also known as the Shining Serpents by the early peoples of Sumeria because of their physical appearance) The Book of Enoch is a set of very early writings by Enoch who was the father of Noah. It is very likely that the Grigori or Watchers themselves were not so much angelic or messengers of God, but an actual elder, more adanced, race who died out all bar a few, during the Ice Age. Which I think ties in nicely with Tolkien's view of elder races in his works.
And now...without further ado, on to the chapter. Thranduil finds himself in a tiny spotlight in this one.
"When you're up to your nose in the shit, keep your mouth shut."
Beauregard's Law
Dark Power Arising
Chapter 51 – Smile now, tomorrow may be worse
The Gilmalk Encampment, Twenty-first Hall
Orgrim stood on one of the Watchtowers at the encampment and looked down as the last of the patrols marched in through the doors, axes carried over their shoulders. This was the first time in a very long time that every single member of the clan, other than the three who were accompanying the servants of the Lords of the West of course, had been in the encampment at the same time. The heavy wood and iron gates were drawn shut with a great ponderous creaking and groaning, the females were preparing to fight alongside the men and the younglings were in the only room within the encampment, a room that was built of strong stone, with walls of at least three feet thick and which had one strong door.
And which could well become their tomb if things went ill.
"Is that the last of your clan Master Orgrim?"
Orgrim looked up at the tall silver-haired Nadiel. "That is the last of the patrols, although we will do a muster and a roll call shortly. Did you finish your...whatever it was that you and your brethren were doing successfully?"
Nadiel grinned down at the Dwarf. "We have placed a barrier around this area. None who are not invited will be able to enter. While you are doing your roll call my brethren and I will summon a guardian as an added protection. This protection will hold whether the Grigori are here or not and even were a thousand years to pass, the protection and guardian would still be here."
"Does this mean that none of us will be able to leave or anyone enter?" There was a slightly worried note in Orgrim's voice.
Nadiel shook his head firmly. "Indeed not Master Orgrim. Your people will be able to come and go much as they always have. The guardian will recognise all of those who live and are accepted here. It will only act if others try to enter who do not have permission. All of the Grigori residences and offices throughout the world have such protections."
Orgrim's face relaxed and sagged with relief. "Good...good. May I ask in what form this guardian is?"
Nadiel was silent for a moment as if thinking about how to describe the guardian and a small, slightly naughty smile hovered around his mouth. "Well...we are summoning what you might term as a lesser order of demon."
Orgrim nearly passed out with shock. "A demon? You are summoning a demon?" He grasped onto the handrail around the watchtower for support. "But demons are bad are they not?"
"All beings, both natural and supernatural lie under the command of the Source of all Power. (2)" Nadiel said gently, seeing that his flippant remark had shocked the poor old Dwarf. "And there are many such beings in the spiritual world. Most of the bad ones; the ones that cannot help themselves but to do harm live in the Void and yes, it would be very very bad to call on such a one to act as a guardian. However there are many others, spirits of the air, the forest and the water, even some of the fire who are neither good nor bad, they simply are. They serve a purpose in the ordering of the worlds in this universe and can work for either good or bad depending on how they are called. It is the job of my kind to ensure that they work for good. Demon is just a name for a spiritual being that is of a lower order. Unfortunately the religious and spiritual development of mankind has put an entirely different and more threatening connotation on the word and turned it into something to be greatly feared."
Orgrim found he was interested despite the initial fear. "And of what nature is the guardian summoned for us?" He asked curiously.
Nadiel laughed softly. "We spoke among ourselves and sought instruction from Lord Sariel and the Grigori Shamans in Vevey and it was suggested that a spirit of fire be used. They thought the fire aspect was in keeping with who and what you are. You will not be able to see the Demon once invoked, but it will appear to the trespasser." He shrugged. "Of course by that time it is usually too late for them."
Orgrim didn't like to ask how they had sought this instruction, he had the distinct impression that it would be better for him not to know. There was much about these beings that spoke of earthy, deep and powerful magic. The fact that they were more than happy to use such protections made him wonder just what the Istari of old, like old Tharkun (1) for example, could have been capable of had they exercised their full true power. These Grigori or whatever they called themselves did not seem to consider themselves to be under the same constraints that the Valar and their servants considered themselves to be. It was both unsettling and strangely reassuring.
So instead he grunted and nodded and agreed with the notion that a Fire Guardian was indeed appropriate for those whose lives revolved around fire of some sort. After all they seemed to know what they were doing.
He harrumphed, took a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose thoroughly. The tall shining being beside him made no movement to show he was even aware of the Dwarf's embarrassment and feelings of vague trepidation but Orgrim suspected that not much was hidden from him, especially when it came to mortals.
"Hmm. Shall we go then Master Nadiel?" Orgrim turned and headed for the stone steps built up to the watchtower indicating that the Grigori should follow him. The two Dwarves who were on watch keeping duty bowed respectfully to their clan leader and stared in awe at the tall, beautiful and imposing Nadiel. "I can do the mustering and you can get on with summoning your...harrumph...guardian or whatever he...it..or she is."
"They have no gender. They are simply spiritual creatures who can take a bodily form of any kind, much as we Grigori would be able do in our natural habitat and if we were not earthbound. The fire guardian being summoned most often resembles a much fiercer version of a mythical bird called the Phoenix, however the Phoenix itself is actually not so mythical. The one we intend to summon as guardian is called Urobach." Nadiel responded calmly as he followed the hurrying little figure of the Dwarf down the stairs. The Grigori seemed to glide everywhere as if he was on wheels rather than had feet, as they all did, but Orgrim knew that when they did move it was so swift as to be barely visible to the naked eye.
It was on the tip of Orgrim's tale to say that he really preferred not to know the demon's name or really anything at all about it, but instead stayed silent in case Nadiel thought he was ungrateful.
He sighed inwardly. Perhaps getting used to a demon guarding the encampment instead of leaving it open to attack by Mahal knew what was by far the lesser of the two evils.
ooOoo
A scant hour later and Orgrim was beginning to wonder what actually was the lesser of the two evils.
He had mustered the adult members of the clan at the opposite end of the encampment near to the dining and kitchen area. Far at the opposite end was where the four Grigori stationed themselves. Right in front of the main entrance with its huge wood and iron gates. Orgrim had watched the Grigori assemble in a line directly in front of the gates and then had left them to it. After all, they hardly needed his input. It was only when one of the younger Dwarves drew his attention back to their erstwhile protectors that he looked their way and was taken aback, just as everyone else was when they craned their necks around to see.
The four Grigori were standing side by side in front of the large gates. Around them swirled a nimbus of bright silvery- blue light. Their eyes were closed and their heads thrown back, facial features had lengthened and shifted until they resembled an elongated slightly diamond shaped head of a snake. Cheekbones had lengthened; become more prominent and eyes had become almond shaped. Their hair, previously neatly braided in a long queue down their back, was now eldritch, loose and billowing around their heads as though the nimbus of light itself was filled with some cosmic breeze that eddied and swirled around them. Even from where the Dwarves stood they could all feel the that power as tendrils of the light wove their way outside of the immediate power circle.
It was altogether indescribable and the Dwarves were rooted to the spot in both fear and awe.
"Look at their fingers!" Whispered one of the Dwarves. "It's magic."
"It's power." Orgrim snapped to them all in general as he watched the tiny blue flames crackling from each of the fingertips. The Grigori all had their arms by their sides but slightly lifted so that they stood fingertip to fingertip and the flames crackled from one to the other in a mutual exchange. "They are connected with one another and they share their power to summon protection."
He sharply gestured for them all to disperse to their assigned posts, which they did, but not without much muttering and askance looks at the four alien creatures now practising their craft. Doubt mingled with fear among them and Orgrim could not find it in him to blame them.
"It's not natural." Whispered one of the Dwarves to another as they hurried to their post. "It's just not. Magicks should not be used like this, there will be consequences and we will be caught in the middle."
"We're caught in the middle anyway." The scornful voice of one of the women, Hifur's mother who was called Fis, cut through the mutterings of the menfolk. Orgrim recognised her voice and smiled grimly at her practicality in the face of such things. "What difference does it make as long as we survive? Or would you rather we just handed ourselves on a platter to whatever creatures are out there? Hmm?"
The others had no answer and their mutterings subsided. Hifur's mother gave a scornful laugh and she shook her head as she verbalised the age old cry of the female gender towards the idiocy of men.
"Men! I'd be hard put to find out what they are useful for. Superstitious bumbleheaded dolts and idiots, the lot of them." She grumbled under her breath as she headed towards the room where the younglings were being kept to check on whether they were all present and correct. Dwarven children were born so infrequently that every single child was as precious as jewels and mithril to them. Much more precious in fact.
As Orgrim stood watching the Grigori, biting his underlip and chewing on his beard with misgiving, he saw the nimbus of light grow until it enveloped the four beings completely. He moved closer in terrified fascination and noticed that the members of the guard who were standing near to them had the selfsame expressions on their faces as he did; awed terror. He found that his feet had crossed the ground towards them as though he were being attracted by the force of what was happening, like iron filings to a magnet. As a result he was quite close when the guardian demon of fire Urobach made his...its first appearance.
First there was an acrid smell, very similar to that during a thunderstorm when the lightning was fierce. Modern scientists called it ozone and it was a very distinctive aroma which wrinkled Orgrim's nose. Then, to his utter astonishment, what looked like a small, very grey and very angry looking, storm cloud appeared over the gate in front of the Grigori. His mouth dropped open for what must have been the millionth time since he had met Seth and his brethren as a bolt of white and blue lightning arced from the middle of the cloud and stabbed the ground at the feet of the Grigori who remained silent and completely immobile. The air around them was now filled with the smell of ozone and the Dwarven guards had moved back well out of the way of whatever was coming with alacrity.
And it was clear that something was coming. The air surrounding the encampment was thick enough to slice with an axe.
Orgrim found that he could not move. Oh, he wanted to all right, it was just that his feet wouldn't obey the instructions his brain was giving them. He shuddered with fear and let out a small cry of distress which immediately attracted Nadiel's attention. The Grigori's head swivelled around and Orgrim almost sank to the floor when he saw that the blue nimbus that surrounded them was actually coming from the Grigori themselves. Silvery-blue light leaked from Nadiel's eyes and his face looked utterly alien. Orgrim moaned with both awe and terror and sank to his knees. A moment later he was within the light itself. Nadiel had seen his distress and realised that he could not move away as the others had done, so his long, strong arm had snaked out and snatched Orgrim into the nimbus with them. He then resumed his concentration at the same time as holding the Dwarven leader up with one hand and with little or no effort at all.
For himself, Orgrim felt the fear leave him the moment he was joined into the communion between the four Grigori. Once he was there, instead of fear, a feeling of intense love and compassion filled him and he felt tears spill over and into his beard. The air around him was peaceful and did not smell of ozone. It smelled of roses and there was starlight so bright and so close he felt as though he could touch it. These alien looking creatures were nothing to be afraid of, unless of course you were the object of their anger. They were light, pure, simple and immensely powerful and yet at the same time Orgrim knew that this was not a full demonstration their power.
He basked, afloat in the safety of this wonderful light and feeling of well-being and as he did he saw pictures in his mind's vision and realised with great pleasure and excitement that he was being shown the past of the Naugrim, from their awakening by the work of Mahal, the gentle sleep invoked by the supreme maker until the Firstborn awoke at Cuivenen, he whom the Elves called Eru Iluvatar and thence onto the eventual awakening of Durin, the Deathless One.
He saw Moria in its heyday, lit up with the crystal lamps and the massive reflective mirrors working to fill the massive caverns with light. He wept afresh as he saw Durin cut down by the Shadow and the Flame and then much later, the subsequent outpouring of goblin kind into the beautiful mansions, gardens and plazas of Khazad-dum bringing with them desecration and destruction.
He finally felt Tharkun's despair as he was about to be dragged down into the fiery abyss by Durin's Bane during the flight of the Fellowship. He heard the whispered "Fly, you fools. Fly." and then there was nothing but the light and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he trusted these Grigori to protect them. He knew his tiny clan, all that was left of the once mighty Naugrim, would be all right because the deep, kindly voice in his mind told him it would. He felt at peace for the first time in a very long time.
As the lightning stabbed down and hit the dusty floor nothing happened for what seemed like forever to those watching, but it was in fact only seconds. They were still filled with horror at the sight of their leader being seemingly drawn into the light and then consumed. Their attention was caught by a small dust devil which had spiralled up from the floor. It merrily danced along the dusty ground back and forth and one of the younger Dwarves let out a giggle of delight at the sight, whereupon the dust devil stopped dancing and started to grow. From a spiral it became a small column, from a small column it grew into a large column of red light and they could see the bright orange and red flames flickering within it. It revolved, swiftly at first until the flames were large, bright and crackling and then a figure began to appear within the flames.
Only the Grigori and Orgrim saw the guardian clearly as the spinning column slowed down gradually to a halt. All the others got was the impression of a monstrously large cross between a flying reptile and a bird with huge claws and bright basilisk eyes in the midst of which small red flames flickered. Its plumage appeared to be a mixture of feathers and fur, gold, red, orange and yellow in colour, but it had a bright helm of purple feathers like a Mohawk down the middle of its head. It was, all in all, nothing like anything any of them had seen ever before.
The creature stood in front of its summoners and cocked its head on one side, as though it was listening to commands or speech only it could hear.
And then it was gone and the air cleared.
Orgrim found himself standing alone by the gates. Nadiel and his brethren were conferring earnestly with each other to one side of the encampment. He blinked slowly and tried to sort his befuddled thoughts out into some semblance of rationality. As he struggled to come to terms with his unearthly experience, he felt someone grasping his arm with some strength and urgency.
"Orgrim." Fis's voice hissed in his ear, demanding his attention. "We have a problem. One of the younglings is missing."
ooOoo
The Chamber of the Crossroads
Eönwë stood quietly with Ezekiel and Thranduil in the shadows waiting for the signal from Seth to move in on the creatures waiting for them up ahead. The Herald had one thing to his advantage over everyone there and that was his ability to disincarnate, however as much use as this would have been in Seth's battle strategy, it was his abilities learned with the British Army Special Forces as Gary Matthews that he was about to utilise. As Thranduil so rightly pointed out, appearing just behind one of the creatures that stood guard was probably just as likely to make them cry out before they could be silenced.
No...in this particular instance, getting up close and personal and silencing them before they could squawk or so much as breathe heavy was a much more effective strategy.
He eyed Thranduil who was now wearing a black woolly hat courtesy of Carver Grissom to cover his bright hair and his face was also blacked out, as was both the Herald's and Ezekiel's. A small smile hovered around Eönwë's lips. This Elf was becoming something to be reckoned with. Eönwë hadn't failed to notice his easy familiarity with Seth and the other Grigori. They didn't phase him at all and his background with Mercenary forces and other armies of the race of Men down through the centuries had honed his battle skills to the point where there was little he didn't know about military tactics, both overtly offensive and those of the more sneaky variety. To be truthful, if it hadn't been for his delicately pointed Elven ears, there would be little to tell him from Ezekiel or even himself. Somehow, instead of his sojourn during the millennia in Middle-earth causing him to fade, it had actually fortified him, unlike Maglor who although he had assimilated himself neatly into the world of Men, had not fared quite as well as the Elvenking. Of course that could, in part, be due to the fact that he was living in a marred state due to his actions in the First Age.
Eönwë decided that he would speak to Lord Namo about Thranduil. Perhaps he could shed some light as to how Thranduil had not faded and in fact had almost gained stature on a level with the Maiar. This almost seemed like a deliberate act on the part of Eru and one which had not been foreseen by anyone, not even Thranduil himself.
Finally the Herald's eyes passed to Elrond, standing quietly between Glorfindel and Elladan. To Eönwë, the link between Elladan and his father were almost tangible. The lad was sending out his love and support and Elrond did look better for it. Glorfindel stood, the eternal guardian, on the other side quietly offering his own support which was considerable. Eönwë had known Glorfindel both as an elfling and as one of the Reborn, his escapades had been the talk of Valinor and many were the times that either Eönwë and the Maiar of Lord Manwe and Irmo or other Maiar were sent to either get him out of trouble or assist him because he was in a difficult situation. It had finally been a finely honed, disciplined Maiar-trained Glorfindel who set sail back to Middle-earth as the guardian of the line of Earendil with the blessing of the Valar.
Eönwë noted with approval that the peaky, distracted look had started to leave Elrond's eyes and indeed he seemed to be anticipating a good fight just ahead as his fingers hovered over his sword.
Are you ready? Seth sent the question to Eönwë by thought.
Eönwë lifted his hand, a signal which both Ezekiel and Thranduil saw and the three silently moved into the shadows, each headed for their target.
Thranduil slipped into the easy, silent movement of someone long trained in special tactics. To Eönwë he resembled nothing so much as a great golden predator, moving silently from shadow to shadow, barely perceptible even to the Herald's sharp eyes.
Ezekiel meanwhile had disappeared into the shadows altogether, although Eönwë could see his aura quite plainly. It had darkened to almost purple and he knew that his own had done the same. He knew that he was invisible to Thranduil but that Ezekiel could see his aura also.
Seconds later and the deed was done. Eönwë slid his strong hands around his target's thick leathery cheek and chin, then with effortless ease he gave a sharp twist and the creature slid bonelessly to the floor with its neck snapped. He caught the body before it hit the floor and carefully dragged it back into the shadows of the passage, giving a quick check to the pulse just to make sure it was actually dead. A soft movement showed both Thranduil and Ezekiel doing the same with theirs. The group around the camp-fire didn't even notice and neither did the two goblin-like creatures mounted on their wargs.
Thranduil looked at Eönwë and grinned, his teeth showing a bright white in the darkness. "Three down, ten to go." He whispered.
"There is another standing away from the others, but not as close to us as these three." Ezekiel's voice sounded low in the Herald's ear.
"How possible is it to take him out quietly?" Eönwë asked softly.
Ezekiel thought for a moment. "I am thinking that we could bring the others up quietly, then perhaps if you disincarnate just behind him and do the business, it then won't matter if he does manage to cry out and warn the others because we will all be ready to attack."
"They look bored to me." Thranduil said. He wiped his knife off with a cloth from his webbing. He had chosen to silence his by slitting its' throat. "They are not alert. They're just sitting around a makeshift camp-fire and squabbling with each other. I imagine their Captains are actually inside the Chamber of the Crossroads. They will come once the others are engaged, but they are not on their guard. Taking these out..." He gestured contemptuously at the three slumped bodies. "...was just a piece of cake."
By this time they had reached Seth and the others.
"I gather you were successful?" Seth raised an eyebrow. He had a look on his face that Eönwë had seen many times on the face of Tulkas.
"Affirmative." Ezekiel answered for all of them. "There is one other who stands a little away from the others. I suggest that we move up a little further and Eönwë disincarnates to deal with him. By that time if they do get wind of us then it will make no difference. We will be close enough to mount our attack."
"I'll say one thing." Thranduil interrupted. "The one that's standing away from the others seemed different to me somehow. It's as if he doesn't actually belong with them. For a start he isn't wearing armour. You and Ezekiel might not have seen this Lord Eönwë, but my target was closest to him and I got a good look. He is not carrying a sword. He's carrying a side-arm and he's dressed more like us than them."
Eönwë and Seth looked at each other. "A servant of Herumor." Eönwë said grimly. "He could well be the creature that drove Herumor at that reception Kim and I attended. I caught a glimpse of him earlier opening the car door for Herumor when they arrived, but the General's Aide de Camp hurried us in so fast I never got the chance to look at him closely. Kim got a better look and she said that he looked like an orc."
"If this is so, then my guess is he will have placed himself so he can disappear quickly and quietly if things go badly for them. "Seth said quietly. "He won't want to risk being captured. Not if he needs to report back to Herumor."
"Whatever we're gonna do we'd better do it quickly." Carver nodded towards the passage. "I believe we're about to have a few more guests for that late lunch we were planning."
Seth's face altered form so swiftly that it even took Eönwë by surprise and the Elves saw straight away that the Herald was as wigged out by the change as they had been when they first saw it.
Interesting. Thranduil thought and filed that away for future reference, but he had no more time to ponder this interesting fact before he saw what Seth had seen. The very creature they had been talking about had appeared and he was not alone. Besides the other orcs that followed him brandishing their ill made weapons, Herumor's orc had a struggling, weeping young Dwarf of the female persuasion in his strong grasp and he held a long wicked looking knife at her throat. It had already dug into the tender flesh and a trickle of thick blood was beginning to run down her neck. Her russet hair had come loose of her braids and her clothes were torn. There was a bruise across her cheek and blood on her lips as if someone had slapped her repeatedly over the face and mouth.
"Come any further and I will kill her. Or perhaps I will let these others have her...in the biblical sense of course before they have her as a meal. She smells sweet for the get of a filthy Dwarf and I imagine she is untouched." Herumor's orc spoke perfect English. "Surrender to us, we are many and you are few. My friends are very hungry for both pleasure and food."
"Alydd!" Arras cried out in fear at the sight of one of his friends being held captive, only Hifur's hand on his arm and a shake of the older Dwarf's head stopped him from saying or doing anything else that could get her killed or worse. Hifur and Bofi wore grim, angry expressions on their faces at the molestation of one of their younglings.
Eönwë felt the same deep black rage that Seth had felt at the sight of that young defenceless child in the grasp of something so sickening it had no right to even exist. It was so deep that he almost failed to control any physical changes properly, but the strength of it and desire for it made him tremble from within and he seemed to be seeing everything through a red mist. He had never felt this way during the War of Wrath. Yes he had killed these creatures, but always from a standpoint of disgust or even sometimes pity knowing that as a being he was far above them. Never from a rage that welled up from some deep untapped place within him. He did the only thing he could think of under the circumstances and disincarnated in order to control his hroa better.
Go and get her now Eönwë while you are disincarnated. Seth's calm golden tones sounded in his head. We have your back and will deal with this creature and his cronies. We can help you deal with what you are feeling once we secure this area and reach the Chamber.
Eönwë needed no further urging. He felt a sudden control over the primal rage he was feeling and realised that Seth himself was helping him achieve it. Seconds later he had materialised directly in front of Herumor's orc and his captive. The orc squawked in dismay and dropped the Dwarf in order to defend himself better. Eönwë immediately disincarnated with the young Dwarf slumped in his arms and materialised again behind his group who had already moved in on the creatures.
"Leave her with me, my Lord, I can look after her and defend her if need be." Arras said quietly as Eönwë gently laid his burden down on the tunnel floor and checked her pulse to make sure she was still in the land of the living. "Go and help the others."
The young Dwarf drew his axe and stood next to his friend who had fainted dead away with fright. There was a determined look on his face and Eönwë needed no further urging. He leapt into the fray firing at point blank range at anything orc-like that made the huge mistake of getting in his way.
Whatever Herumor's servant and his orc friends had expected it wasn't the sight of a number of beings with terrible, fell faces and huge swords that had small blue flames crackling up and down the blades. Behind them came those disgusting Elves with the light of battle on their fair faces, firing guns of all things and behind them came the Men. Not the kind of men Herumor's servant had become accustomed to. These were men with grim fell faces and they also carried guns. They were quite unprepared for these things of metal spewing out death in an instant.
He saw one of the Elves, a big bastard with eyes alight with green fire and a mane of golden hair, revealed when his black hat slid off, come swooping towards him, this time with a sword and he decided that he had already hung around far too long. It was time to leave. He turned and pushed one of the smaller warg-riders off his mount and jumped on it, even as Thranduil swung his long sword around in a wide arc. The orc ducked, but the downward slash of the arc neatly severed the warg's head from its neck and it fell to the ground with a crash. Herumor's servant squeaked in alarm, struggled to his feet and dived through Thranduil's legs, but he wasn't quite quick enough. A strong arm reached down, gripped him by his throat and lifted him clear off his feet. He hung there terrified and choking with his legs kicking madly.
He found himself staring into a pair of silvered eyes and a face one could only ever had seen in nightmares and that only a mother could love
"Don't kill me!" He croaked in terror. "I can tell you... things...many things."
"Oh I won't kill you...yet." Seth turned to Thranduil. "Let's secure this bugger shall we? I rather think we will be having a cosy chat with him a bit later."
"An interview without coffee?" Thranduil flashed the Grigori leader a huge grin as he grabbed the orc, cruelly stretched his arms behind his back and snapped a set of handcuffs on him. "I like the sound of that! I bags first go at him."
Seth laughed and to the petrified orc the laughter had a terrible sound to it that boded ill for him. "Perhaps we'll let you soften him up."
The battle was short-lived. Herumor's servant had led these creatures to believe that the race of Men were soft and that the Elves had lived too long in that disgusting realm of the gods of light to be any use with weapons any more. They certainly hadn't bargained for a bunch of godlike beings with them and none of them would be telling anyone else any time soon since they all lay dead at the feet of Seth and his party.
All except for Herumor's servant of course and he was going nowhere fast.
ooOoo
The Halls of Lord Manwe Sulimo, Oiolosse, Taniquetil
"Is Eönwë right?" Manwe turned to Raguel who was standing beside him watching events unfold in Moria through the tall window that faced east towards Arda Marred.
"About Thranduil?" Raguel smiled that enigmatic smile which secretly drove Manwe to the point of wanting to strangle the emissary of the Timeless Halls.
"No...about the Dwarves...yes of course I mean Thranduil." Manwe said irritably.
Raguel chuckled. "You should take a walk around Ulmo's delightful fountains in your gardens Manwe. Flowing, tinkling water does a great deal for the choler, or so I have heard."
"It just makes me want to go to the toilet." Manwe retorted immediately. "And you are not going to distract me that way. What's happened to Thranduil and should I be worried about it?"
Raguel sighed and sat down on one of the thickly cushioned marble seats. He patted the seat beside him. "Come and sit down Manwe, you'll give yourself hypertension fretting and pacing like that."
Manwe reluctantly sat down beside him and Olorin immediately appeared with a tray which had a carafe of the pale gold sparkling Teleri wine, some goblets and a tray of sweetmeats on it. He set the tray down on a small marble table.
"Thank you Olorin." Manwe smiled up at the Maiar. "Most kind of you."
Olorin inclined his head to his Lord and left the room, leaving the Seraphim and the Elder King alone.
Raguel took a sip of the wine and leaned back on the seat with a blissful look on his face. "That wine is superb. Now, where were we? Ah yes, Thranduil Oropherian. I am not really sure that it's wholly my task to speak of him. You really should ask the Source...Eru...yourself. Or ask Namo. He knows things."
"If I ask Namo he will just become more inscrutable than he usually is and he'll then come out with some unintelligible doom nonsense and then I'll want to kick him squarely in the shins." Manwe said shortly. "Eru will probably tell me I need to ask Namo and then I find I'm on a nice little merry-go-round where everyone else knows everything and I know nothing. And nobody will tell me anything. So...I am asking you instead."
Raguel's fair brows were knitted together in concentration as he tried, and failed, to unravel Manwe's declaration. Finally he shrugged. "Thranduil is a strong willed rebel. To be honest he should have faded. However, since he didn't Eru was prepared to allow him to survive the Ice Age intact, but he was supposed to sail West with Glorfindel, Elrond's twins and Celeborn. He is without a doubt a stubborn, bloody-minded old Elf and refused to budge. So Eru decided that he would play a part in the development of the modern age of Mankind, right along with that stubborn old coot Radagast who refused to come back here as well. Only to do that meant that he had to be graced with certain attributes to help him survive. It was discussed with Lord Anu, who was of the Ainur who came back down to earth from the Halls and set up the stronghold in Kharsag. Lord Anu was, understandably, reluctant to send Seraphim to fetch Thranduil by force and that stubborn fool would not come willingly so it fell ultimately to Lord Sariel and Lord Semjaza to travel to where Thranduil was. Aspects of his genes were duly subtly altered so as to give him extra abilities not dissimilar to those displayed by the Grigori and he was our contact with the developing bloodlines of mankind for a great many years through many of the great civilisations of antediluvian times and after. It was only when the Egyptians decided that he was the god Horus personified that he travelled north and went underground because he felt, rightly so, that he was interfering with course of their civilisation."
"He doesn't look any different." Manwe was bewildered.
"Nor is he." Raguel poured himself another goblet of wine. "He is of the Eldar still and all of his physical attributes are the same as any other Elf. However, he is stronger and faster than the average Elf and his mental capacities, which were already quite considerable, were increased. The present-day Grigori know of him and respect him greatly even though they remained hidden from him after the fall of Semjaza and the recall of the others back to the Halls. In latter years he has concerned himself only with assimilating himself into modern society, but he has seen all of man's triumphs and many of his follies and taken part in many of them. He is an exceptional Elf. He no longer grieves for his wife who, as he rightfully surmised, did not answer the call of Mandos on her death. Her fea preferred to wander the forests of her birth until eventually she faded. He will not settle properly here in Valinor and Eru has decided that once this business with Herumor is finished, Thranduil will be offered some sort of situation as a liaison between the Timeless Halls, Arda and here. The exact duties have not been decided. In the meantime he is where Eru wishes him to be. He is more use to young Seth than he is here in the Blessed Realm, even though his son is here and his son's family. Does this answer your question?"
Manwe nodded slowly. "I suppose it does. We...the Valar...should have known of those left behind. We should have brought them here, not left them to survive an Ice Age. We should have known, but we did not. We have made so many bad decisions, it's a wonder Eru has not had us all bounced back to the Halls for punishment."
Raguel put a comforting hand over Manwe's. "Stop beating yourself up about this Manwe. Eru knows that you did the best under very difficult circumstances. It was not meant to have been this complicated and our brother Melkor has a great deal to answer for. The problems you encountered can be laid squared at his door. Perhaps your only folly was to capture him and then let him go, assuming that he was completely penitent. You are...were...his brother. It is only natural that you would want to assume that he truly had repented of his earlier destructive acts, but truly, once set in motion, both here in Valinor and in Arda, events had moved on and there was little you could have done to stop them."
"I suppose so." Manwe said quietly. "Legolas will be disappointed if his father does not come here. He has longed to see him...to introduce him to his family."
Raguel's eyes twinkled. "I did not say that Thranduil could not visit. Just that he would not be comfortable settling here. Legolas's family will meet him and he will be reunited with his mother and father as well." He got up. "I must go. I promised that I would meet with Irmo in Lorien and I should have been there an hour ago. Try not to worry, Thranduil will prevail. He is strong. It is the Peredhil who should concern you more since his blood is mixed with that of the Ainur. Seth and the others will do their best to help and train him, but it should have really been addressed when he first landed here."
Manwe flushed to the roots of his hair. "We truly did not think it was a large enough strain to make a difference and he needed much healing. He had all but spent himself in Arda. We didn't want to make it harder for him to heal."
Raguel nodded. "Ah well, he will be fine now. He has his son to add strength to his bond and he is with one of our most extraordinary young Kerubim in the form of Seth Falconer. He will look after him."
He dematerialised only to materialise back a few seconds later and make Manwe nearly jump out of his hroa.
"That young Herald of yours...Eönwë . I am very impressed with him and with his lovely wife and indeed with all of your Maiar. You and the others are to be congratulated. I think my report to the Source will be a most favourable one indeed."
He then dematerialised again leaving Manwe feeling giddy with relief.
ooOoo
(1) Demon, Defined as a lesser spirit of God or a 'devil' in Christian mythology.
Literal meaning for Demon = "replete with wisdom". Derived from the Greek word: "Daimon" meaning divine power.
(2) Tharkun, n, was the name given to Gandalf by the Dwarves in the north. He was known as Mithrandir to the Elves and Gandalf to those in the Shire and Bree. The Rohirrim called him Gandalf Greyhame.
