Forochel. April 2, SA 542

MAIRON watched with dismay as the second hunter screamed as he thrashed where he fell. His body convulsed once more as his eyes rolled backward. The Maia sighed. He had diluted the blood hoping the less potent drop would help. It did not.

He gestured to the nearest two Orc guards. Groveling, the two heavily armed Orcs approached the foot of the dais, glancing furtively at him, then each dragged away the now silent body of the two hunters.

Mairon stood up as enormous energy pulsed around him. The ice floor of the chamber shook. Several large icicles attached to the ceiling broke, bursting into many hundred shards. The other Orcs within the chamber skittered away.

Rotating his neck to release the tension there, Mairon sat back down on his throne. This was not the time to lose his temper. It wasn't as if the result was unexpected. He had already lost one of the captured Silmacils. The moment Uluch's blood was forced into him, the Noldorin warrior had convulsed, rolling back his eyes to reveal the whites of his eyes. He had fallen dead, his spirit leaving his body before Mairon could do anything.

Having had success with the first Silmacil captured three months ago, Mairon had been too confident. He understood now that not everyone was going to survive the poison in the blood which contained Melkor's essence. One needed darkness to bind it and hold it inside.

It was so disappointing. He had wasted Uluch's blood for nothing.

Mairon let out a sigh. At least, it proved that his theory had been right. His sorcery bound to the gold collar and enhanced by the dragon blood worked wonders on Men and the lesser Elves. But Mairon had seen the ones with great will overcoming its effects. Perhaps more of his own power had to be infused into the spell? If possible, that was something Mairon wanted to avoid. He had seen firsthand what expending too much of one's power did. He had no intention of losing the ability to change his forms like his master and other Maiar did. He will need to experiment more, but he did not have Elves at his disposal to do so. And the Silmacils were too valuable to waste on experiments. At least, when it worked, the combination of his sorcery and the Uluch's blood proved potent beyond his expectation.

It was one of the reasons Mairon wanted Thranduil. The Sinda already had Uluch's blood in his system which meant Mairon did not need to waste the precious little amount of dragon blood he had left. The Sinda had been unresponsive to his calls through the link provided by the dragon blood. Then, unexpectedly, the Sinda had fallen onto his lap, at least, the means to get him here.

The Maia reached into the crows and his ice bats who were his eyes and ears.

The Warg was almost here. He could see the Warg rider carrying the unconscious, white-haired Elf in front of him. They were crossing the last of the tundra before it turned into the thickly snow-covered ground.

That white-haired Sinda had not been Mairon's target. In fact, he had thought little of the two kidnapped soldiers. They were just a decoy for Gil-galad to focus his attention while Mairon had the two hunters abducted to aid his release. That Thranduil and Elrond would come after the two Sindarin soldiers, leaving their protected walls, Mairon had not foreseen.

The last defeat at the Dwarven ruins had been difficult to accept: to be undone by a mere Sinda. It was unacceptable. Elrond is the child of Luthien's legacy, and Mairon had a special place carved out for the Noldo, but Thranduil, a child of a minor Sindarin princeling? Mairon ground his teeth.

He had not meant to focus on those two young Elves yet. Gilmagor had preached the art of war, and Mairon had been an ardent student. Both Melkor and the Noldorin commander had their own ideas of how to approach war, but they agreed on one fundamental concept, that all warfare was based on deception. Both had known the importance of information and timing. A successful battle was never fought only with the weapons of iron and steel. Such weapons had never been Mairon's choice. He had Orcs for that.

But, if the objects of his desire fell on his lap while in pursuit of his plans, why would he reject them? Gilmagor had said, there was opportunity amid chaos. One had to keep an open mind to take advantage of the opportunities when they arise. Having Thranduil and Elrond in one place, out of the protection of Gil-galad into his arms, it was too good an opportunity to pass.

Mairon looked up. A cluster of gray cloud swooped down from a large shaft in the ceiling, its chirps and clicks swirling around Mairon.

"So, the Silmacils have started their move, have they? Spread wide and thin around the mountain? Gilmagor is not taking any chances, is he?" Mairon petted the ice bats.

That was to be expected from the old Elf. The Noldo wasn't looking for a fight. He was looking for information. And information Mairon was ready to give.

Gathering information was important but giving out disinformation was sometimes even more effective. Nothing sowed discord and mistrust more than misinformation unwittingly shared by their own kin who did not know that the seeming truth was in fact a deliberate and manipulated information meant to deceive.

Mairon smiled as he turned to the Orc by the door. "Send him in."

Even as the prisoner under the mountain, Mairon had felt the presence of one Silmacil or other skulking around the village of the Northmen near the mountain where he was imprisoned. He knew the Silmacils were looking for the whereabouts of Astalder. The Maia had been glad that he sealed the cave entrances as soon as he realized the amount of time it would take for Uluch's body to decompose enough for him to open the door to the chamber. He didn't want unwelcome guests when he was in no shape to entertain.

The Silmacils roamed Mairon's mountain for a long while after Mairon was imprisoned, coming back every few decades. The one Mairon had captured was the first one to return to check the mountain after the Northmen were sent out to spread the news of the rumbling mountain when Mairon was ready to execute his plans.

Some of Mairon's best Orc captains died capturing this Noldorin warrior. But, he had been worth the loss. The Silmacil, once fed and collared, obeyed, but he had not opened his mind fully to Mairon even now. It was annoying, but that was the problem with the creatures with their own minds. It was one thing to command them, but another to gain full control.

The Silmacil bowed low, his eyes to the ground by his feet.

"You know what you have to say and do?"

"Ye…s, Maaamaa…maa" the Silmacil stuttered as his body twitched.

Mairon frowned. The power of the blood was strong, and the gold collar around the Noldo's neck glistened, and yet the Silmacil struggled. This one had a mind stronger than what Mairon had first given him credit. Rising up, Mairon picked up the Silmacil's face and looked down into the Noldo's face. The warrior's gray eyes wavered, hatred and fear warring within them. But bound by both the sorcery and the dragon blood, the will of the Silmacil, on its last shaky legs, broke under Mairon's fiery gaze.

"Yes, Master."

Mairon smiled as he allowed his long slender finger to trace the pale face of the Silmacil as he watched the warrior's gray eyes turn into winter sea, opening his mind wide for Mairon to see.

"Good. Very good. Now then, go get your brethren."

Mairon watched the Silmacil leave, satisfied. With any of the devices, blood or the collar, it was easy to make them do things that didn't clash with their beliefs, but when they are asked to do things that affected them emotionally, these Elves showed a surprising amount of willpower. Why that was, Mairon did not know. He would have to look into it if he were to perfect the subjugation. But, in order to experiment, he needed Elves to test on which he could not do without gathering attention. And he was not ready to attract more attention from Gil-galad. For now, he just wanted the Silmacils, the eyes and the ears of the Noldorin king.

Had he known that the will of the Elves can be broken by combining dragon blood and his sorcery, Mairon would have tried it when his master had thousands of Elven slaves at his disposal.

Neither his master nor he had thought of combining the potency of Melkor's blood and that of his spells. Whenever they had tried to break the will of Eru's children, they succeeded against Men, but they could not break the will of the Elves without killing them. Only a rare few with weaker minds were influenced, but even they never fully submitted to the will of Melkor.

Mairon should have paid more attention to Glaurung when he placed Hurin's children under his spell. Because the dragon's effect on the Elves were not as drastic as it had been on the Edain, Mairon had not thought to use it against the will of the Elves. It was not until he tasted Uluch's blood and knew what she had intended for Thranduil that he understood the full impact of Uluch's power, the legacy of Glaurung.

Her blood did not disappear or was digested like food. It was a shadow that hid within oneself and grew according to the drinker's strength and his inner darkness. And just like Melkor's gifts, it gave, but it also took, slowly but inevitably, breaking down the drinker's defenses. And when it was combined with the spells like Mairon's sorcery, the effect was absolute obedience.

The problem was the supply of blood. There were precious few drops of Uluch's blood left. The ones with weaker minds required only the gold collar when the command did not require them to do anything against their own beliefs, but the stronger ones, like the Silmacil, needed to be fed a drop of blood for the effect to have a strong enough hold to keep them under the influence. But out of the four he had given blood, only one survived. Mairon was not sure if it was worth using what little was left of the dragon blood on them when their survival was uncertain.

Mairon got up from his throne and changed into an ice bat. He flew inside the chamber that had been his prison for four centuries. He had raised a round stage out of the wall that had separated the chamber from his forge. Onto this stage carved out of stone and ice, a stream of daylight poured down from the air shaft Mairon made in the ceiling. The Maia had learned not to seal any room where he entered.

The faint light from the ceiling shone on the two blades embedded into the floor of the stage. Even under the dim light, the twin blades glowed as if they were jewels under full sunlight. Mairon had created this stage for his two, very special guests he was expecting.

Mairon chirped loudly as he flew into the crack on the ground that formed when he first tested his power after being freed. The swords that had bound him had limited the use of his full power.

Beneath the ice floor was a wide tunnel. As it was under the Blue Mountains, several deep caverns existed under his small mountain in Forochel. Mairon had connected several of those subterranean chambers into an open tunnel to bring Uluch to Forochel.

What he had not known was that the underground cavity under Forochel stretched east toward the western end of the Misty Mountains, known as the Mountains of Angmar. For the past four decades, under the whisper of Mairon, the Orcs had been digging, enlarging the subterranean pathways. There were about 84 leagues between the western end of the Mountains of Angmar and Forochel where he was. A large population of Orcs lived at the Mountains of Angmar, spreading east among the roots of the Misty Mountains.

As Mairon flew among the Orcs working in the darkness of the tunnel only occasionally lit with torches, Mairon noted those chambers filled with magma and whispered instructions. There were several hundred Orcs, some digging and some widening narrow passages along the crags and the cliffside. The trick was to build the tunnels connecting them without disturbing the river of magma that ran alongside it. The fire and the heat did not bother Mairon, but the Orcs were mortal and feared them.

From the westernmost end of the Misty Mountains, a distance of 84 leagues separated the east from Forochel. Through the many caverns and winding paths, one could pass from the Misty Mountains to Forochel without alerting those who kept surveillance of the area. But the path was narrow and dangerous, limiting the number of soldiers that could be brought through it.

Already, several hundreds of Orcs had arrived in Forochel, avoiding detection. What had Gilmagor said? Disguise your plans. When able, you must seem unable. When near, make our enemy believe we are far away. Oh, he had been an excellent student. He was certain Gilmagor would approve.

Mairon landed on top of one of the craggy rock jutting near where a group of Orcs tried to widen a narrow path.

His original plan had been to subjugate the Silmacils and use them as his captains to lead the Orc army. Once they were under his control, he didn't have the need for this underground path. But Mairon had learned not to rely on one plan. There were always many unforeseen things that happened to subvert his plans. Just as now. Once he took control of the Silmacils, he would have fed the false information to Gil-galad, divide his forces and defeat them one by one outside the cities before Gil-galad realized what was happening.

Mairon wanted to spare the cities if at all possible. The Elves were talented builders. Especially Noldor. They created things of great beauty in ways these lesser children could not. Some said the Dwarves are the talented builders, but in Mairon's eyes, they lacked certain innovation and an eye for beauty that Noldor exemplified.

Even to this day, Mairon remembered the lofty white marble towers of Gondolin and the immaculate streets lined with flowering trees. The white-stone paved city of Lindon was said to have been built in memory of Gondolin, but it was only a pale imitation of the brilliant marble towers and the grand courtyards he had seen at Gondolin.

While the dragons were busy burning alive its remaining citizens, Mairon had roamed the streets strewn with the dead Elves and the Orcs, admiring the work of the Noldor.

In the slender white buildings surrounded by silver fountains and decorated with bright gems, Mairon saw the reflection of his old master's hand, and he regretted that such marvelous creations should burn. But he could not convince Melkor from burning down the entire city.

Once Noldor were on his side, he shall cover this world with beautiful buildings of great heights. He shall build the soaring towers, carve grand statues, and create gems of marvelous hues. The streets shall be paved with gold and silver, and no one shall go hungry or in want. Yavana herself shall weep at the beauty of the flowers and the trees that shall cover the cities. They shall love him then and call him Mairon again. He shall build this world to rival that of Valinor. He would accomplish what his master could not.

Feeling the swell of his breast, Mairon soared over a wide gorge that stood over a deep flow of magma which separated this part of the landmass from the one across it. This was the biggest problem area. The crag that jutted out from this side and the other side provided the narrowest area over the magma river. Still, it was a two-furlong wide gap.

Several Orc guards were overseeing a ropeway where several chains were wound around gigantic wheels pulled by Mountain-trolls. Two iron baskets attached to each end of the rope carried Orc soldiers across. What had been only one ropeway carrying two soldiers on a small wooden basket had grown to several ropeways, unloading fifty to sixty soldiers per day.

Gilmagor would be expecting no more than two to three hundred Orcs at most in Forochel, but in reality, Mairon commanded thousands.

Mairon flew up again. All along the gorge, forges had been set up. Thousands of swords and armors were being made on each side of the gorge. On the other side, there were even more Orcs, waiting to cross the gorge.

Satisfied, Mairon flew back through the tunnels and the caverns, speeding through the throng of Orcs filling the large caverns. They were still far from his mountain. By the end of the month, all of the Orcs would have arrived at Forochel.

In the meantime, he had to gather the Silmacils and put them to sleep. Even when all his Orcs arrive, Mairon would not be able to implement his plan right away. But rush, he would not. He knew better now. There were not very many Silmacils left, but more importantly, there was not enough dragon blood left. He would have to do some more tests before risking both.

Mairon returned back to the room with the circular stage, and took his original form, landing near the swords. He shall travel east. Capture wood-elves to use for his experiments. He didn't want to alarm Gil-galad by taking any more Elves from the Noldo's land. But the wood-elves were not as well organized. Missing few Elves would not alarm them as much, and even if it did, they weren't much of a threat.

One thing bothered him: the Sindar among the wood-elves. He had been kept a prisoner in the cave of Forochel, but for the past several decades, Mairon had kept informed through the eyes of the Orcs, Wolves and the Crows. He had seen the warriors of Gil-galad working with the warriors of Oropher in the east.

This, he would not allow. Nothing good came when the Elves worked together. And he knew a perfect way to bring division amongst them. Destroy the bridge on which they had built the trust and friendship between them: Thranduil and Elrond.

Thranduil already had Uluch's blood within him. Mairon took out the golden collar he had made especially for the Sinda. He was certain the Sinda would come of his own accord. And with him, Elrond will follow. The trick was not how to make Thranduil come to him, but how to put the collar on him.

But once that was done, what fun it would be to see the two good friends at each other's throat. Mairon did not care who killed whom as long as one ended up dead. Thranduil was far more useful to him alive, but Mairon had no fondness for the Sinda. And something told Mairon that Thranduil would be more of a hassle than he was worth. And nothing would satisfy him more than to see Elrond's face crumble with grief and horror when his hands ran red with the blood of kin. That would torment the Half-breed more than anything Mairon could ever do to him. And, if neither killed each other? That would be fine, too. The aim was not to see them dead. It was to see the trust between them broken.

Mairon whistled a song he had learned at Lindon. The sixty Orcs he had sent had done the work they were sent to do. Thranduil and Elrond would be with the Skin-changers now, recovering their wounds. Few more days and he will get to harvest the seeds he had sown.

Glaurung (Sindarin. Gold worm)-Considered the first and the greatest of Morgoth's dragons. He is also known as the Father of Dragons and Great Worm of Angband. He was wingless uruloke (meaning, a fire-breathing dragon). He fought in many battles and was instrumental in the destruction of Nargothrond. He plays the main villain in the story of Turin Turambar whose hand it perished.

Edain (Sindarin. Men, singular form is adan)

Mountains of Angmar—the mountains located at the north-western end of the Misty Mountains. This is where the Witch King of Angmar(Sindarin, Iron Home) later builds his chief fortress, Carn Dum for the realm of Angmar. (I like to believe that the name of the mountains already existed and the realm took its name from it, but I could be wrong)

Gondolin (Sindarin. Hidden Rock)—Realm of Turgon (Fingon's younger brother and Earendil's grandfather, thus related to Elrond) built on the valley of tumladen within the Encircling Mountains. It was the last Elven kingdom of the First Age to fall in FA 510, four years after Maedhros attacked Doriath. The beauty of the city was said to even rival that of Tirion, the Noldorin city in Valinor.

A/N: The warfare strategies Gilmagor speaks of are based on Sun Tzu's Art of War.