Nag Kath

by Gelansor

This is a sequel to The Lord of the Rings following a released prisoner at the beginning of the Fourth Age. He has to adapt to changes in his world and in himself as Middle-earth copes with life after the dark lords. All chapters have been loaded as of 2/9/2020. Reviews welcome. Thanks for looking, sh

69. Chapter 69 The Reckoning

Chapter 69

The Reckoning

~o~

She approached humbly, with grace and poise. At the appropriate distance, she bowed deeply and rose with a faint smile. Seated on matching thrones of surpassing elegance were two of the fairest and oldest Elves on earth; her parents. They both rose from their seats and embraced her.

Galadriel could not live here, but she had visited every ten years since she returned from Middle-earth. It had only been five years and this time she was without her husband. Lord Elrond and her two grandsons were quartered elsewhere in the magnificent palace of one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

Mother Eärwin smiled graciously, "Welcome back, child. We understand there are difficulties."

King Finarfin nodded before adding, "I am sorry it must follow you."

Galadriel smiled in reply, "Do not worry father. I am strong. I fear an old menace has returned."

Queen Eärwin said gently, "Come, tell us in our chambers. Your family will join us for the late meal."

~o~

The King and Queen did nothing quickly. Every movement was graceful and measured. They had not left the city in hundreds of years and even then, not very far. That was the last time they spoke with the Vanyar now living in the center of the continent. Decisions were slow in coming too. Thankfully Cirdan, every bit as old as they, was quick on his feet and would have sailed with most of Nag Kath's story the day after Elurín reached home. King Olwë of Alqualondë would know as well.

Galadriel explained what they knew. Morgoth, for all his wreckage, left these shores after destroying the trees and was primarily Middle-earth's problem. His power and cruelty became so great that most of the clans here joined the remaining Valar and captured him, destroying vast portions of the Middle-earth in the doing. The dark lord, most powerful of all the Ainur, was imprisoned in the void where he was supposed to be incapable of escaping.

That is a persuasive contention, made by those to be believed. But no vessel is inviolable, especially when untended. Why he wasn't ground into dust and thrown by the pinch to the winds of the world was never adequately addressed. King, Queen and Princess, their heir, sat in the private quarters for a conversation none of them wanted. But nor were they afraid. They were the very last full blood of the tragic King Finwë, thinly continued through Celebrían, the twins and now the lovely newcomer who would need much explaining.

Galadriel told them every last word. When she was done, Finarfin said, "Much of this we heard from Cirdan. He and his people are our eyes on the sea. There are other friends."

Eärwin added, "Lord Felaour is open. When we meet with Lord Elrond, he can add to our understanding. What is less certain is this Kath creature. Is he an ally?"

Galadriel allowed herself a smile. "Yes, mother, but a curious resource. Had you heard of him before?"

"No, daughter. He was an orc who became an Elf? I find that disturbing."

Galadriel allowed herself an even bigger smile. "Everyone does. He is a mix of Istari, Elf, perhaps a little remaining orc, but mostly a man. Nag Kath has done great service, including saving Celebrían from the grips of Morgoth. She sends her best and is now truly Lady of Harvién." She looked demurely at the King and said, "What is most disconcerting; he looks a great deal like you, father dear."

Finarfin was not amused, "Cirdan told me. He said he knew the poor ohtar too."

Queen Eärwin touched her daughter's hand to say, "We will discuss the hard things to be done after dinner. Now, tell us of your family, dear child."

~o~

Elrond did not visit often but he was a relative both by blood and marriage. Elrohir and Elladan were here frequently. Their great grandparents always gently mentioned that they were of a good age for marriage and, as the last of the line, what a joy it would be to welcome another generation. The twins agreed but had no news on that front. Now there was baby Inariel.

Dinner, by tradition, was also about family. One did not discuss items of contention or low company during the meal. After retiring to the sitting-room, they were deep in the details. The military situation seemed the easier, despite the numbers Meliath could marshal. And ten thousand was a guess. He had sixty thousand subjects, half male, all capable of wielding a weapon. If he and his minions could rouse the population to arms, it could be twenty thousand.

Morgoth was the unknown. He did not have orcs, or dragons or even many horses for his foul purpose. Even in the enemy's weakness, convincing the forces they needed was an uphill climb. Finarfin would go to the Vanyar himself if King Olwë would come. Only the Vanyar or Teleri Elves could approach the Valar. Finarfin was the 'clean' Ñoldorin, but that alone was not enough. And where was Gandalf? He sent the changeling into the wilds without saying why, after being in Eldamar, of all places. That was a year ago. It was possible he was with the Valar in their havens of the west but old Orórin was not disposed to a life of leisure. He was more likely already deep in the enemy's world and not available for comment.

Eärwen wanted to hear more about Inariel. She had never met Arwen or Aragorn but had heard of them through returning firstborn over the years. There were their two mortal great, great grandchildren as well. An exciting innovation; Elrond brought pictures of them drawn by the queer changeling. This was what people actually looked like! There were other pictures too; including the valley and the wraith Talifür. Finarfin studied the sketches intently before taking his rest.

~o~

Olwë was of the first moment. High King of the Teleri, he should have some nominal control over the renegade Meliath but Meliath was Morgoth's creature now. Attacking the mountain gardhs was a ruse. The dark lord was not interested in taking ground and coming to accommodation with his neighbors. It was a question of who was next. It always had been. The Elves responded better at some times than others.

Olwë had more overall subjects than Finarfin and they were less fractious than the Ñoldorin had been. They were also spread further. If Meliath's Teleri still counted, those were furthest from Alqualondë. Felaour's large fief next to Elrond was densely populated and had good reason to mistrust Naitë Mélamar. Cirdan was of that clan and there were ports and towns sprinkled along the Bay of Eldamar long held by Teleri, Ñoldor and Sindar mixes. The difficulty was that Olwë stayed to Alqualondë or his island fortress of Tol Eressëa and seldom spoke with the other Elvish houses.

Elrohir was dispatched the following day with a convincing escort to plead for the King to come to Tirion and thence to the Vanyar living inland. If he came here, round trip to the Golden Elves was two months at best. It had to be done. If Olwë could not commit his peoples to plugging the leak in the void, it would be a desperate fight in the south.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Nag Kath surmised that was happening. Lords have councils, they make decisions, they move deliberately and maybe they do something. He had his hands full baiting traps. Celeborn gave him a stout wagon to ride into the shamed village of Attëa Súlë. With him he brought piles of local weeds.

The changeling tainted two batches of wheat. The first was a Lostorin base poisoned with ground root of palmath which made a working binder when cursed with a deeping spell. He had to make hundreds of pounds of it and slept every night for a week until it was prepared. That had to be carted to Naitë and dumped on the grain reserves in the staging area.

Next he conjured a trigger with ground grains of amanthage under a confusion spell. That was mixed in water and sprayed on another five hundred pounds of wheat. When mixed with the binder from Naitë, it should make the soldiers confused, dizzy and desperately loose in the bowels. Both batches should be added to tons of good wheat as evenly as possible.

Inside Naitë was harder. Before he left the last time, he asked his new friends of the Aelius Company to 'borrow' drover uniforms from the local Naitë militia. They got him one that fit. He and Harthorn took the two-horse team the long way around to the granary depot and arrived just late enough the next afternoon to catch the militiamen hungry for dinner.

Harthorn did the talking since he was of these folk. The lanky Elf called to the Sarn't, "Got another shipment for you. Where does it go?"

"What is it?"

Harthorn drawled, "Wheat, this year's crop."

"Put it with the rest."

They didn't know where the rest was but no one was to be asked more than one question if possible. A trooper with his boots off was trying to make sense of what used to be a pair of socks. Harthorn called again, "Where is the wheat storage?"

The ohtar pointed at two block silos before attending his foot-sores.

Harthorn smiled and thanked him but his gut twisted. This was the Castle-Turn Militia and ohtars' socks were rags! Everyone knew Meliath was a miser but this was the army! What Nag Kath would tell him on the way home, provided they made it, was that the barefoot lad was two or three steps closer to being an orc than he was before the hated mountain-lords of Middle-earth blighted these Undying Lands. Naitë people had slowly stopped living like Elves. The low gave and the high kept. Thousands of farmers were forced to hope someone harvested their crops while they practiced stabbing people none of them disliked. They were closer to the start of the dark road than the end, but it only went one way.

~o~

That was all to the good for the Aelius sabotage team. Naitë used the sort of silos that were built into a hill with the exit door in front and the loading chute up an easy grade behind them. They backed-up the rise to shovel their wheat into the top of the first silo.

In a healthy Elvish community, a half-dozen hearty folk would help them unload the wagon. No one was there. This was too good to be true. Against an opportunity like this, Nag Kath mixed a secondary taint in a pair of ale barrels tied to the wagon rails. It was just water and salmoë extract which would mildew everything it touched within days. With no one even watching, they poured the drums in, threw dry wheat over the surface and replaced the silo cover. Then they backed the team to the other silo and shoveled in their palmath-tainted wheat. It took two hours, alone and in silence with wet gauze around their faces. Hartharn closed the lid and they rode home. Nobody paid them any more attention on the way out than in.

Another team of the Aelius had spiked the secret granary with instructions to wear wet swaddling around their mouths and noses and bathe afterwards. The rats would know better than to eat that wheat. His work done, Nag Kath opened a third barrel he brought with more wholesome contents.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

High Lords were less successful. King Olwë was deeply sympathetic but would not start a war over Meliath. The involvement of Morgoth was inconclusive. Even if he was slowly leaking into Valinor, he had yet to appear. His Highness did agree to let Lord Felaour build his forces, which he was already doing, and gave Lord Cirdan complete autonomy for his conduct, which he always had. Meliath's ambassador in Alqualondë resigned when he heard Talifür was chancellor and stayed there with family. That should have told all.

All this scotched the Ñoldorin embassy to Valmar. Neither Finarfin nor Galadriel had been involved in the Kinslaying but they were blood kin of those who had, which limited their influence among the Golden Elves. It was a four-hundred mile ride each way to sip tea and likely hear the same sympathy they got from Olwë.

High King Finarfin searched his soul. Most of the Ñoldorin, apart from Lindareth's lot, either lived near Tirion or along the coast. Upon hearing of Olwë's refusal, he sat in his garden and looked at the same stars his great, great grandson-in-law pondered with the astrologers of Arnost. Queen Eärwen joined him in silence. Knowing he wanted to think she left him a mug of cold tea. Was the changeling right that Melkor was behind this madness?

The King asked Galadriel, Elrond, Elrohir and Elladan to join him and his Queen after breakfast. The four trooped in not knowing what to expect. His Highness made his own formidable Elf-Lord face and said, "I will raise an army of three thousand and cross the Valaduin by the end of May. If I can persuade any on my way, I will bring more. Galadriel, your mother will remain here and govern in my stead in hopes of victory and an end to the sundering. I prepare in secret. Look to my coming in June. May the Valar bless our noble cause."

There was absolute silence in the room. The Queen broke the spell, "We would be greatly helped if one of our great grandsons could stay and acquaint us with your methods Lord Elrond." He bowed. "We suggest you return home by way of Lord Felaour's lands where may be found support and good counsel." He bowed even deeper thinking that to mean ground had already been plowed to ask for troops.

They stayed another three days, some because they were family and some for the grinding detail it takes to organize a great host of winning soldiers. They did not get what they wanted, not even half, but it gave them a fighting chance.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

The embassy returned to Harvién in the first week of November. Celeborn rode with his top army advisors and a stout escort to meet them. Nag Kath and Inariel remained in Thornost. They were used to not being in the highest councils by now and did not begrudge their exclusion.

Nag Kath had a sizeable troop of slow-sword ohtars for dawn practice. Some of them were poetry in motion, better than the changeling. His movements were a compromise of being slow yet retaining the memory of speed. They were flawless at any speed and he learned from them. Nag Kath also kept an eye on the tainted Lieutenant Aurthil who did not join in swordplay. The changeling was very careful not to show any magic to him or anyone else here. In his absence, Celeborn gave Chief-of-staff Lord Odalimrin command of the army. The civil administration was unchanged. Nag Kath's talents were hidden. Odalimrin considered him just another junior officer who married above his station and left him alone.

Inariel kept busy with several babies due shortly. Somehow the world creates more children when war is in the wind. All were perfectly healthy. The children of men had the difficulties. She enjoyed the company of women preparing for birth. In that role they saw her as more adult than precocious child and were glad of her.

~o~

Well north, Elrond, Galadriel and Celeborn visited the realm of Formenhobas, long home of Lord Felaour. Declared neutral since the Ring War Elves arrived, he was slowly allying with his newer neighbors. It was not so much a shared bond as the growing threat of Meliath. His close friend Cirdan sent emissaries to tell him of the darkness. As far as he was concerned, Morgoth vitiated the strained Teleri chords of the past. His northern lands on the Valaduin River already had a great many Sindar, Ñoldorin Elves, none of whom seemed determined to re-steal Silmarils.

Felaour agreed to send a thousand infantry across the bridge into Penethornost to join the host when King Finarfin's troops arrived. He would raise militias on his side of the river in the event Meliath crossed to reach Harvién. The mountain Lords said they thought they knew the attack route but that was no guarantee any of Naitë's troops would take it, much less all of them. The allies returned to Harvién pleased with the outcome. There had still been no word from Thranduil or his neutral neighbor Benamtilith along the southern coast. Gandalf was still unearthed.

Celeborn and Galadriel were home in March with senior staff from both Elrond and King Finarfin. Preparations were satisfactory here. Most of their time was spent inspecting troops and fittings for a push eastward. They did not want to reinforce their eastern border too soon. Galadriel went secretly to the contested lands for a look herself. Nag Kath's new ears along Naitë reported no heavy troop concentrations but the camps a hundred miles southeast had not released their militias.

After the flush of her Ladyship's return, Nag Kath asked Galadriel for a private conversation. She readily agreed. They were the magical Elves. He started, "My lady, do you know confusion spells?"

"I know of them, but they were ken of the mannish witches."

He explained how some of those witches used binders with their spells in attempted coups in Dale and Dol Amroth. With a grin he added, "I dosed Morgoth's man in Farnëmar with a massive amount of Lostorin. That is a binder to condition or retain other spells. If I teach you the spell, can you use your far-speaking to confuse him?"

She was silent. He continued, "I used the unbound spell on a general of Mordor to countermand his lord's order. He sat in camp and they lost the battle."

Her eyes sliced into him before commanding, "I would know this spell!"

It took her only minutes to learn, summoning beyond his experience. Even with Nenya reduced to jewelry, she had experience and residual drawing far superior to his. A wary volunteer was deeply confused. Just as quickly, Nag Kath showed her the clarity spell which also fascinated her.

"My Lady, if you, or we together, can convince Vantieth to sit or attack trees or do anything but drive over the bridges for even two weeks, it will be of the greatest moment. He is already under dark control, so he is susceptible and likely easy to find. Please, Lady Galadriel, give me your hand." She did without hesitation. He showed her the pulse Selvas sent before the massive response by Morgoth. "If you feel that, you know where to find him. Morgoth too."

She gave him her wry smile knowing he had been underestimated again. Unknown to the spy in camp, her engineers and artillery troops were already at the southern foothill bridge, ready to destroy it at need. That could not be done in the lordless, contested lands, but that seemed a less likely place for Lindareth to cross since his strategic purpose was to hug the foothills rather than cross over rougher terrain in the barrier hills. Much depended on the angry Lords taking the easy path.

~o~

Arnost was busy as well. There would be no more foolishness with diamonds or possessions. Meliath was brought in full service of the dark ones. Selvas had a stronger body. His powers were greater. He could instruct Vantieth, not in words, but intentions were clear. In April, Vantieth rode with his black escort to Arnost for consultation. Farnëmar would settle with Cirdan after Thornost was burned. Their soldiery was incited to blood-hate. That was not a natural Elvish view. As Selvas infused his darkness into heralds and selected officers, they preached to the public. Those who disagreed were taught the error of their ways. Two lesser drawing healers were slain, but they never found Daelor.

More to the moment, regular army and militias in mostly northern Naitë were raised and started moving west along their northern border, still well back from sight. No merchant traffic was allowed to leave. They had adequate grain to mass before the strike but not enough horses to pull supply wagons across the badlands if they wanted cavalry for skirmishing. Ohtars would have to carry what they needed to the contested lands. Planners counted on two full silos near the border to get them well inside the lordless territory before they needed to forage.

~o~

Similar, if more merciful, arrangements were underway with the allies. By the first of May, resident armies were nearly assembled but kept well clear of the borders. There were no raids or probes-in-force. Everyone tried to look like nothing was happening.

As promised, King Finarfin crossed the Valaduin with his three thousand troops on June first. Felaour's thousand would trickle over a bridge further east and stay quietly inside Thornost's upper forest for further instruction. As solemn as his progress was, Finarfin allowed himself a short stay in Harvién to visit his only grandchild Celebrían. He met her in her madness when she was first escorted back from Middle-earth and could not bear to see her again until now. After all those terrible years, she was restored and gradually adjusting. It gave him hope for the future. Two weeks later, his host arrived in the capital of Thornost. For several days, even the orderly Elves were rushing about trying to shelter, feed and provision three thousand more soldiers preparing for the march east.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

A larger council was called that included Nag Kath and Inariel. They were presented to the King and his advisors. His Lordship was delighted to see his great, great grandchild, a baby in so many ways. He was polite to her husband who he thought did not resemble him. After introductions, the Kaths were kept to the background.

Late in the meeting, the changeling gathered his predicted path to the valley of the mirror had lost sway after discussions with Felaour's scouts' assessment of northern Naitë troop movements. Since Meliath was coming in from the north, experts didn't see the value of a mere child's strategy and thought the original battlefield of the Ring War veterans was the more likely place for Naitë to strike. Galadriel's troops had won there by guile and experience but would have lost if Naitë knew its business. Felaour's forces would hover conveniently above the first battlefield.

The changeling did not jump up to remonstrate. Only Galadriel saw his concern. Later in the day, the Lady of Lorien found him sitting by one of the little streams. She sat next to him without him rising first. Staring at the water he said, "They do not understand, do they?"

"Where the enemy will come?"

He shook his head, "No, why."

She asked softly, "Tell me."

"Meliath could take these gardhs anytime he wants. It wasn't until the darkness that he had the stones to try." She was not offended at his language. "He has no reason to include Lindareth in the spoils."

His blood came up, "That is because there are no spoils! Morgoth does not want land. He wants Eldamar in flames so he can escape his dungeon! How; I do not know … but he knows. Something in the rage will rip the fabric, like the mithril band of Numenor. Who knows what other monsters he will bring with him? I can feel theses holes."

Nag Kath looked at the shocked Lady and said in his full Elf-Lord visage, "The battle is a diversion. Think like your old enemy. You plan in ways that Elves always have, find honor and purpose in the nobility of fair combat. Be cautious, Lady Galadriel. If he is set loose, he doesn't need a single survivor on either side." When she simply gazed upon him he continued in a soft voice she had not heard, "We have both fooled them. They think me a child, but I have been fighting since the moment I was spawned. You, you wear your ring as if a memento of past power gracefully lost, lulling them with your acceptance ... but you had long learned how to summon earth and air to your purpose without it. Listen for my call.

Nag Kath rose, bowed and stalked off. There was something else these chivalrous people did not understand. Gandalf would. It was unconventional. So was he. Inariel tried to comfort him. Her sensibilities were becoming Elvish, seeking accommodation and concord. His were not. She was his love and he wanted to be with her always. First he had work to do.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Planting was early this year for the first crop and the harvest would be early too, if not very good. With the general staff busy, Nag Kath took a moment to consult astronomer Kelbine. The crescent moon of July would be nearly at the end of the month on the twenty-sixth. Would that be when Orlo could rise? He may just be a stalk of gureeq. It was too faint a prayer to hope, but that was also when the wheat of the lordless lands would be edible.

On the eighth of July, allied armies started towards the Naitë border a hundred twenty miles due east. Their grain stores were long established and defended. Felaour's general Ülon would move in stealth to join them. Two days out, runners on spent horses reached them to say Vantieth was leading three thousand troops with three hundred cavalry west to the Foothills road and would cross the bridge into Penethornost within the week. Galadriel far-spoke her southern Captain to destroy it after the enemy host was nearly there to make backtracking to the eastern bridge that much further. Naitë wanted them to hug the mountains closing on Galadriel from the south.

That was when folk noticed Nag Kath was gone. He was a curious creature but quite reliable. The Lady of Lorien seemed concerned but she knew. Galadriel wished he could help her with the spell but had to use it on her own. In hopes that the main bridge was in ruins with strong river flows, she tried her own confusion spell on General Vantieth, honing on a signal he received from Arnost weeks before. She transmitted that he was terrified of water, that crossing the river would be the death of his troops. Barges and ferries would sink beneath them and they would be carried to the sea as bloated corpses. He would also deny all further far-speaking as treason.

There was no telling if it would work. Scouts on the river would report if they cut timber for transports. She closed her eyes and prayed that the changeling had not returned to his original masters, that this had not been in Morgoth's or Sauron's or even Saruman's design.

~o~

The changeling himself was in the contested lands. He admitted he could be wrong and that Meliath would avenge at the sight of his humiliation. If the high allied lords were correct, conditions were as good as they would get. If not, they would need to force-march their noble backsides down here because once Naitë took this vale, there was nothing between them and the allied capitals.

In the village of Attëa Sule he spoke with leaders of the thirty-eight. Their ears in Naitë heard forces were massing just where they expected. The eastern trap was baited with no guarantee that Meliath would not bring all the food he needed. In the allies' favor; even if Morgoth now truly made the decisions in Naitë, the flesh-and-blood soldiery was lashed to Meliath's long, parsimonious history of poor provisions and lax discipline. The grain in one silo was a solid lump of black mold so they must rely on the tainted store next to it. That would get them here. The easily found cache on this side would be a welcome discovery, for a few days.

It was time to burn the fields. The dry spell that hurt the crops helped their destruction. Elves with torches lit them from upwind and retreated. Many who were not aware protested, some with weapons, but when they learned Meliath was coming, they gathered what possessions they could and were shown hidden places behind the hills. Hopefully their stout stone homes would survive. Nag Kath and the Aelius Company watched the fields burn and smoke. If Meliath did not come, they had barely a year's rations in the small, safe caches. It was still a terrible risk.

~o~

When the Aelius returned home, Nag Kath stayed along a stream bed holding his long legs. He considered his powers. They were greater still. Ever since he arrived, every little bit of magic left something inside him, adding to what he brought from Middle-earth. He was accumulating it from air and water and earth. That did not frighten him; though he worried it would not be enough. For an hour he sat and considered his course. Inariel agreed, thought it may cost her everything she had gained from joining her new people. She was a very conventional girl in many ways but she loved him and trusted him. The Princess waited in Thornost with unwavering faith.

The changeling felt it, something he had not felt since Orthanc. He considered his choices, knowing he was being watched. Finally, he raised his hand and gestured for his observer to join.

"Why aren't you with the others, dear boy?"

They will need help if they are wrong."

Orórin sat next to him. "Are they wrong?"

Nag Kath smiled, "Perhaps not, but Elves are not good at being wrong. Me; I have long experience. We had given up on you, old friend."

The wizard took out a pipe. Nag Kath had not seen him use it in these lands. Did some secret village of Elves grow passable pipe-weed? As always, the wizard said nothing while he prepared the bowl, a ritual with him. He lit something that actually smelled like Longbottom and puffed a curlicue into the faint breeze.

Gandalf replied, "I was lobbying Galadriel's plight among the Eldar and the Valar. They were unconvinced. I have come here on my own. Tell me everything, and I mean; everything."

It was nearing dark when his former pupil finished. That called for another bowl. Once burning, the wizard said, "They are wrong about the battle site?"

The changeling shook his head, "That is salvageable. They are wrong about the strategy. They see this as a battle of flesh and blood. They hope Morgoth will not come. That is the error. He needs to be brought forth before he ready."

That was a bold claim. Orórin said as he might have to the changeling in Orthanc, "Do not be hasty. You do not know the power he possesses."

The youngster countered, "You will see. I think Galadriel does. I confess; my lessons are no clearer than your efforts, but in their day, both of the dark lords commanded vast influence. They could fashion great beasts and armies of those like me. The best he has managed is the shape-changer."

Nag Kath finally showed his lord face to this old friend, "Gandalf, his ambitions now exceed his power and his patience. Every day he chips at a pinhole in his confinement. If it is not that one, another crack will weaken. He is coming. Let it be where he will lose."

The young Elf had received grudging compliments on tactics but the wizard realized for the first time he was a strategist. He had orchestrated the demise of hard men of the east, deflecting accolades when he could. There was merit to the idea. If what Gandalf thought was convincing evidence of the evil Ainu creeping into the world did not persuade those with the inherent power to settle with him, Morgoth would get stronger. Like King Olwë, the ancients would only act when they could not ignore. Gandalf had played a sore, sleepy old man for two thousand years. That is how old men behave if they can get away with it.

They spent some time on the creature Talifür. Nag Kath could not get close after the change, but he knew Meliath's primary sorcerer was dead the day his astrologer assumed great power, the same day as the evil surge from the south, the same day the feckless Lord lost all interest in his obsessions. Orórin knew the faithful Maiar but not all of the dark ones, now mostly dead in Middle-earth. This spirit had that feel.

In the darkness, Gandalf said, "I will help you. If the host attacks in the north, you must fly there. If they come here, you will need more than the thirty-eight."

His former pupil said, "If Meliath's hosts from north and south combine and move on this position, I can far-speak to her, well enough to let her know. She will be listening."

~o~

Two days later, Meliath turned west. They would cut the corner of the lordless lands and drive into Thornost. That night, The Elf called to the great witch. He could not understand the response, but he got one. They had two days to get here, maybe three. Nag Kath embraced his dear mentor, donned his Naitë teamster uniform and rode Shultö like the wind to the camp of darkness.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Selvas was fuming with the same problem. He delivered the attack orders to Vantieth. He could not tell if they had been received. They had not been acknowledged. The Chancellor expected Galadriel's forces to destroy the bridge. A bridge was further east in the contested lands but Naitë did not want them to detour and then have to return to the foothills road, an extra two weeks marching for the foot ohtars … if they were marching at all.

He stomped into Meliath's tent and groused, "We must hope they are doing as told." Meliath, now completely Selvas' creature, was still of weak stock. He quailed, "Scouts coming off the Raniduin reported an enemy host."

Selvas replied, "Nothing takes us from our lord's bidding."

Meliath gained in strength to say, "The peasants have burned their fields. We only have the one silo."

Selvas sneered, "We will find more. They will not have burned their secret stores. After we cross, have foragers fan wide for granaries. If not, we will arrive hungry and grind their bones to meal. Issue the order. We march with the dawn.

~o~

One hundred miles north, allied Lords were called to the King's tent. Galadriel asserted, "I received the signal that Meliath has turned towards the lordless lands. We march hard to meet them or they will consolidate for the push into our capitals."

King Finarfin asked grimly, "How much time do we have?"

Elrond had discussed the contingency with Galadriel and Celeborn and delivered the tidings, "Two days at worst, perhaps more if Nag Kath's sorcery can delay them. We will arrive tired and wet but we can get there."

Finarfin said simply, "Leave the tents. Gather what we need. We start walking in an hour."

~o~

Nag Kath slapped Shultö across the rump after tossing the saddle and tack in the bushes. He hoped the fine horse would survive. Then he relieved himself in view of other drovers as if having wandered off to do so and joined them by a fire. No one said anything. Battle was coming. They guarded their own thoughts. Dinner was a piece of Lembas since he would not touch bread from the silo.

In the morning the order was given to move at best speed due west. A tall, dark-haired teamster had replaced Meliath's tent attendant. He was told to tear it down and bring up the rear. With single-horse wagons carrying more than they should, going was slow. Sometimes men had to push or clear rocks in the rutted, lordless roads. Trees had been felled across the path. Meliath and Selvas/Talifür's attendants helped erect the large tent when the drover brought it up with the last of the column. As expected, the new teamster stood by to assist if called. That amounted to emptying the privy bucket.

The next morning they reached the burned fields. This time Meliath was seething. Selvas was less concerned. Foragers were already scouring the countryside for hidden villagers and their hidden stores. Since they were also the advance scouts, progress slowed for them to poke through burned gullies and farmhouses. They found no farmers and no stores. There was enough food for three days. Selvas would drive them to starvation but they would fight better fed.

That evening brought them to two abandoned villages. How had these people known to leave? It did not matter. They were gone and their wheat had finally quit smoldering. The forests encroached but there was no food for soldiers there. Towards the end of the day, forward scouts discovered a large granary built into the side of a hill. Two farmers standing guard saw the cavalry and ran into the trees. It was fully four tons of wheat, a year old, but not infested. A thousand foot ohtars were sent with buckets and bags to distribute it to their companies for grinding into a week's bread. Had anyone noticed, the taciturn teamster did not share in that either.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

The next morning was a goat's breakfast of ill-coordination. Four in ten soldiers consumed the binding grain at the first depot. Combined with the wheat here, they were witless and quickly lost everything they ate the night before. The rest were less than their best but working. Meliath tried to act like a noble lord but was revolted by his troopers scurrying to the latrines or drooling while their eyes tried to focus. The tall teamster looked ill but was strong enough to take down the tent with only one other and load it into his wagon.

Selvas stalked among the troops in disgust. The grain must have had rats. Nag Kath could not fathom how he didn't see the sorcery but it might be that common Middle-earth witch's brews were not of his ken. The chancellor stepped in something unpleasant and unleashed a fury of dark language that no one noticed. They only marched far enough that day to dig new latrines. If Nag Kath's calendar held true, they would reach the valley tomorrow at mid-day, the last day of Gelansor.

~o~

Allied Elves were footsore and weary but they converged on the valley from the higher northern side. Scouts reported the enemy was in a sprawling, undefended camp to their southeast. If the allies had artillery, they would have had the ideal place to mount it, pointed down at where Meliath's corps would pass the last line of low hills to their south.

The dark forces now stood at eleven thousand, more than thought but at less than full competence. Almost eight thousand were under King Finarfin's banner with twice the enemy's horse for flanking and harrying skirmishers. Celeborn and Galadriel's two thousand foot and half of the cavalry were positioned at the bottom of the valley in plain sight along with most of the King's ohtars. Elrond's fifteen hundred and his cavalry were hidden in the northern forest. Felaour's ohtars and the rest of the King's were also in the forest a quarter mile further west.

One of the pieces of luck the allies counted on held. Neither Selvas nor Meliath were generals, despite the ribbons on their tunics. Seeing a host of five thousand waiting for them slightly downhill seemed a perfect opportunity for brute force. Naitë flankers were sent to take the south slope of the valley followed by their left column. Allied forces in view sounded the charge and the bulk of Finarfin's cavalry in plain view swept into the flankers, driving them towards allied pike-men. Celeborn's archers rained arrows down on the tightly-packed infantry.

Selvas saw his troops were stalled and commanded the remaining corps to relieve them, less the reserves still working up the last low hill. Among them was the slow-coach carrying the commanders' tent. By then, foot soldiers were exchanging blows on the southern slope with casualties on both sides. As dark forces reinforced the initial wave, they began to push the allies back.

That changed when from somewhere in the forest behind Meliath issued the most horrible cry of tsitsi warags howling their fell songs. Immediately, a quarter of the Naitë troopers began retching and dropping their weapons in confusion. They did not want to be here. Persuasive heralds had urged them from their farms and cities in this noble quest. They answered the call to vanquish those who had skulked back from the ruins of Middle-earth. Now they questioned their decisions.

Selvas saw the tide change again and ordered his reserves down the rivulet. That was when Elrond commanded the last of the cavalry and foot down from the forest to intercept. It would be a terrible battle, probably decided for the allies. Nag Kath needed it to be as horrible as possible for an entirely different reason. He needed the combat to tear the fabric of the void just a little wider.

~o~

Meliath rode north to oversee his main force with his personal guard. Selvas remained behind and watched his six guards suddenly freeze as if statues. That spell would not work on a wizard but a bringing spell did as the black Elf flew fifty feet to the grip of his tent-bearer. Nag Kath tore into Selvas' brain and ordered, "Call your Lord. Victory is his. He must claim it now."

Selvas tried to resist but the Quendu was too strong. The tall Elf also had a link to the darkness, amplifying the signal. Was this another of Melkor's servants here to see his will done? Selvas resisted again but a blast of Melkor's own power surged through his body and he sent the call.

Message delivered, Nag Kath snapped the Umaiar's neck and watched him crumple at his feet. Then he yanked a steel wire hidden in his tunic collar. Attached was a small gold coin buried in the flesh of his neck under the 'Kath' tattoo. He 'borrowed' the nipper in Thornost before he left. Selvas was not strong enough to send the signal himself from here. Combined with resurgent power of the embedded spy Celebrían, the dark lord knew victory against her family was in hand.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Nag Kath walked unsteadily down the hill towards a gureeq seedling needing to confuse several of his own troops attacking him in the Naitë uniform. As he neared, a cloud began forming near the rivulet. The smoke became heat, distorted like images on the other side of a fire. It took shape becoming darker and less transparent. Fighting slowed everywhere and stopped entirely near the apparition. A minute later, the vaporous form of Morgoth took shape, twenty feet tall and terrible beyond comprehension. He growled at the battle field.

Appearing from nowhere, a skinny little Khandian stood where the seed was planted, not twenty paces from the spirit of the darkest lord. The old fellow raised his hand and a thin beam of pale light struck Morgoth. The ancient evil turned to laugh in disdain before counterattacking with a more powerful beam of his own. Gandalf, standing in the allied host with a new staff, directed his own power to the little man whose strength grew to be matched by the dark lord's. For a minute, they exchanged their force until both waned.

The little Khandian was losing and faded into mist just as a flash of fire ran down the rivulet and enflamed the dark lord from behind. Before he could become flesh, Morgoth turned and howled in fury. The intensity of the flame grew, turning anger to pain. Nag Kath maintained his spell wading ankle deep in the creek towards the inferno. With a turn of his hand, the flaming apparition began to slowly spin. Morgoth's screams turned from pain to fear as fire from the water burned hotter.

After a few moments, the cry became a whimper and then stopped. The mass was now spinning faster than eyes could tell, whining from the velocity as it grew thinner and higher. Nag Kath kept staggering forward until he finally dropped to his knees and pounded the heel of his fist into the creek-bed, the last image of the mirror.

The spinning blaze froze for a moment and then shot into the sky like one of Gandalf's rockets, except it did not explode. It kept climbing straight into the blue until it was not visible even to Elf eyes. From where it had flown, a blast like the death of the One Ring spread across the field. All fighting stopped. Two dozen Elves suddenly collapsed as their hearts burst. Morgoth's dying took his servants with him, including several on the allied side.

Nag Kath opened his fist, palm punctured by squeezing the remains of Saruman's staff crown too tightly. It was completely spent. He dragged himself from the stream and said in a voice that could be heard for miles, "Ohtars of Naitë, your dark lord Morgoth is destroyed. Lay down your weapons and accept such mercy as your good sense will gain you."

The vast majority of them did, but Meliath's personal guard, who had suffered heavy casualties and then saw their lord throw blood from his mouth, nocked arrows and fired a volley at the presumptuous teamster. As if he was holding an umbrella, the arrows slid to the side. He grimaced at them and sent another stream of fire up the hill, incinerating thirty ohtars in a flash.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

Remaining weapons fell with a collective clank. The changeling called in the same rumble audible everywhere, "In one hour, send your new leaders to where I am standing to hear terms." Then he trudged twenty feet up the hill and flopped on his bottom with his head between his knees.

Enemies gathered among themselves to discuss how to deal with this. Very few of them had any idea there was sorcery involved, much less from the blackest ever villain. With what seemed a gentleman's accord, the wounded were immediately tended by their comrades. Allied commanders sent aides running to Nag Kath. When they arrived he groaned, "We must talk first. Please bring our Captains." The Lords agreed and were there shortly. None were killed, although Celeborn took an arrow in the shoulder. Elrond had already healed it.

King Finarfin said, "We thought you betrayed us when you emerged from the enemy host. Forgive us."

On another day Nag Kath might have smiled.

Galadriel had her hands on her hips surveying the carnage and the witless soldiers still walking as if in their sleep. "What do we make of this?"

Elrond almost answered but kept his eyes on Nag Kath who was fighting to focus. Meanwhile, Gandalf slowly made his way where to the little man relayed his power to the specter and vanished, tapping the ground with his new staff crowned with an old crystal.

~o~

Belatedly responding to the Lady, the changeling rasped, "We send them home to make this land what it should have been." No one gainsaid him. The allied lords sat in the grass waiting for those who would be coming shortly. They spoke among themselves but Nag Kath just looked at the little creek that had all the answers.

Elladan called, "Nag, who was the big Easterling fighting Morgoth?"

One of Celeborn's staff countered, "What Easterling? I saw Gandalf as he looked of old."

Another disputed, "Nay, it was a Variag."

Gandalf answered, "He was of my order, one I had quite forgotten. Fear not, he will be waiting in the great halls for us." The wizard looked at Nag Kath; "Won't he?"

~o~

A troop of twelve came from the surviving host. Meliath was dead as well as nearly half of the noble officers or their aides whose hearts burst. That meant many of those arriving were hastily elected to their office. They bowed and were equally bowed by the allies and invited to sit. Nag Kath stayed where he collapsed in the grass away from both.

A young Lord from the Fantiel district of central Naitë was chosen as their Sayer. He spoke clearly and without fear, "We have come, though we know not what terrible power you unleashed here today. Say what you will."

Elrond was designated as the allied Sayer, "The terrible power you saw destroyed was Morgoth who controlled your lords and incited you to war."

Meliath had not designated an heir. Those who fancied themselves dark lords seldom did. The succession was even muddier now. Lord Xevandor, continued, "Then we are not to blame for this tragedy if the Valar fomented."

Elrond was pitiless. "No, you are entirely to blame for your petty and cruel hatred. The dark one could never have put one toe on this land without shameful support from the lot of you."

Allied forces were gathering weapons and herding enemy ohtars into surrounded groups. There was no leaving with their heads held high. They should consider themselves lucky to still have them. Preliminary accounts were that four hundred allies were killed and that many wounded. Enemy dead stood at eighteen hundred, many of whom staggered unarmed into a wall of spears. Cavalry losses on both sides were heavy.

One of the Naitë commanders who carried a bleeding arm limply at his side said, "You have the advantage of us. What is your judgment? I have soldiers a-dying and I would send them to Mandos with a prayer on their brow."

Another field officer followed, "You, who sits in the grass silent, you are the true lord of this host. What are your terms?"

Nag Kath looked up to the group and said gravely, "I have two conditions. The first is that you go home and behave like you deserve to live in these lands. Being an Elf is an honor you have sullied. You will spend the rest of your lives regaining it. Bury your dead, care for your injured and give succor to the families of both in penance.

My other condition is that I be allowed to walk among your wounded as a healer. There may be some I can save. If there is to be rapprochement, let it start this moment."

The enemy host looked at each other. Xevandor nodded. It was done. Nag Kath rose in his teamster tunic slowly, creaking like a bowstring. When he reached his full height, the Colonel with the injured arm cried, "And what happens to you? You have taken all power unto yourself. I do not want to live in a world where the free-will you told us to embrace is tainted by equal terror."

Nag Kath appeared to consider that for a moment and said, "I will go to Valimar and present myself."

Another very new Lord who had watched his beloved father's lungs explode spat in vehemence, "Think you to demand power of them?!"

As if it had just occurred to him, the Elf smiled grimly and muttered, "No, like a good neighbor, I will return those tools I have been lent. You will not see me again such as I am."

Gandalf was recovered enough to put his hand on the changeling's shoulder, "I will show you the way."

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~

With that, the peace conference divided. Nag Kath was escorted to several field hospitals lending what little power he had left to those who could be saved. It would have been worse among men but many of these were already healing. He, Elrond, Galadriel and two of the enemy host with healing skills did what they could for those whose own regenerative powers were not enough. Quite a few died just the same. New or repentant leaders of Naitë spoke with their counterparts about the way of things. There were fences to mend. Having the King of the Ñoldorin presiding made this an opportunity they would never get again.

It took four days to tend the wounded, bury the dead and gather that worth saving. Each morning, Nag Kath walked into the rivulet and immersed himself in a bath of silver light. Ohtars of both sides walked widely around him. He stood looking at the valley of the mirror. Perhaps someday it would be beautiful again.

Nag Kath hoped so.

~o~

~o~o~o~

~o~