**War of Words**
Miranda was dreaming again, but it was not the coming battle that filled her vision, but events long past. Standing on the rolling plains of Rohan within sight of Edoras, she saw a tan horse carrying two riders coming toward her. It was early morning and she stained to see who was leaving the city at this hour. There was a middle aged man with red hair and a red beard and before him sat Théodrea. Miranda's eyes were focused on the man she knew to be Israfel, her father. He gazed down at the young woman before him and there was overwhelming love in his eyes. Miranda smiled at the scene before her. They had been in love, and happy, at least for a while. As tears filled her eyes, the scene around her changed and she found herself in a dark damp room.
It was slimy and musty smelling, and there was the constant sound of screaming and suffering from every direction. Before her, a corridor led to a room awash in firelight so she followed it. In the center of the room was a large table, reminiscent of the medieval rack, and it was occupied. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she recognized Israfel, a wretched and broken shell of the man she saw in Rohan. His captors, Orcs and vile creatures of all sorts taunted and struck him, but he remained motionless. Miranda walked around to look at his face and she could see emptiness and despair in his eyes.
Then his tormentors fled the room and she looked up to see what had startled them. Far above the room was the great evil eye of Sauron, and it seemed to grow closer until its fiery glow engulfed Israfel. His screams were horrifying and seemed to continue for hours, and then finally the eye withdrew. Israfel sat up and turned and his eyes burned red and evil.
Miranda shivered. Her father's body lived, but it was nothing but a shell for Sauron's evil will. She wept uncontrollably when she realized who he was now, the Mouth of Sauron. Her body shuddered, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up…and she woke.
Someone had hold of her braid, and she slowly glanced back to see the eyes of Grolg staring hungrily at her.
"Alone at last," he sneered as he pulled her hair harshly.
Miranda forced herself not to cry out in pain. He reached his other hand over to try and rip her coat open, so she curled up to protect herself.
"Yes, fight me," he laughed wickedly.
Miranda was not totally helpless; she still had her dagger in her boot. She carefully reached her hands down to her leg and grabbed it. He was so busy trying to grab her collar, he never noticed. In one swift move, she rolled toward him and plunged her dagger into his chest. He fell backward with a look of utter shock on his dead face.
"City girls do not make easy targets," she said bitterly.
Miranda quickly cut the ropes that held her feet, and then managed to free her hands. She sheathed her dagger again and looked at the sky as she ran her fingers through her now loose hair. It was after dawn, but she could not see the sun through the dark clouds of Mordor. The camp was empty, and appeared to have been empty for hours. She stepped over Grolg's body and ventured out of her little prison. She could see nothing but the surrounding hills.
"Oh, don't tell me they forgot about me," she said sarcastically, but then she heard the screech of a Nazgul. She looked up just in time to see the winged beast swoop down and snatch her. "Damn," she said bitterly. "Here we go."
*****
Aragorn and the Vanguard made their last march to the Morannon during the early light of day. Ahead of them loomed the great rampart of Cirith Gorgor, and its black gate. On either side of the gates stood a tower like two teeth, tall and dark, with a frowning arch between them. There was no sign of life upon the battlements, and all was silent but watchful. They had arrived at the last end of their folly and there was nothing to do but to play the part to its conclusion. They stood dejected before the towers and walls that they could not assault with hope. They knew that the hills and rocks around them were filled with hidden foes, and behind the gates dwelt scores of evil things. As they stood, they saw the Nazgul gathered together like vultures upon the battlements, all save one; and it was that one that drew attention as it raised skyward form behind the walls. It flew high above, carefully remaining out of arrow range, but it was clear that its winged steed carried something in its claws.
Gandalf turned to Aragorn, and they exchanged looks. Aragorn gave Gandalf a nod, and he and the captains set the host in the best arrangement that they could. They were spread out upon two great hills of blasted stone and earth that had been piled in years of labor. When all was set, the captains rode toward the gates with a great guard of horsemen, heralds, trumpeters and the banner of the white tree. With them was Aragorn, Ẻomer and Imrahil, along with the sons of Elrond and Haldir. Gandalf rode as the chief herald, as well as Legolas, Gimli and Pippin. All the enemies of Mordor had a witness.
When they came within shouting distance of the gates, they unfurled the banner, sounded the trumpets, and called out, "Come forth! Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice will be done upon him. Wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for his evils and depart then forever! Come forth!"
There was a long silence, but Sauron had already laid his plans and had a mind to play these mice cruelly before he struck to kill. When the captains had been ready to turn away, the black gate opened and out came an embassy from Mordor.
At its head rode a dark evil shape upon a hideous horse, cloaked in black, and black was his helm which hid his face. He was Lieutenant of the great tower of Barad-Dur, and none knew his name, for long had he been in the service of the dark lord, and was but an echo of his will.
"I am the mouth of Sauron!" he said as he rode out. With him came only a small company of black- harnessed soldiers, and a banner bearing the evil eye. He halted a few paces before the captains and looked them over, laughing.
Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me?" he asked, "Or even wit to understand me? Not you at least," he added to Aragorn with a look of disdain. "It takes more to make a king than a piece of Elvish glass, or a rabble such as this. Any brigand of the hills can show as good a following!"
Aragorn said nothing in answer, but locked eyes with the black rider and they strove thus. But even though Aragorn made no aggressive moves, the rider turned away and barked with rage, "I am a Herald and Ambassador and cannot be so assailed!"
"Where such laws hold," Gandalf said, "Ambassadors use less insolence."
"So," the messenger said sneeringly, "You are the spokesman old greybeard? This time you stick your neck out too far, Master Gandalf, and you shall see what comes to him who foolishly sets his will against the Great Sauron. I have tokens I was bid to show thee- to thee in especial if you should dare to come."
One of his guards came forward bearing a black bundle, and the messenger dismounted. First he held up the short sword that Sam had carried, then a grey elven cloak and brooch, and lastly, the Mithril shirt that Frodo wore.
Everyone recognized them and the significance, but no one moved or made any sign except Pippin. He cried out in grief and stepped forward, but Gandalf thrust him back.
The messenger laughed, "So you have another of these imps with you! What use you find in them, I cannot guess. But to send them as spies into Mordor is beyond even your usual folly. Still, I thank him, for he at least has seen these things before and it would be useless for you to deny them now."
"We do not wish to deny them," Gandalf said, "But why do you bring them here?"
"Dwarf-shirt, Elf-cloak, blade of the downfallen west, and spy from the rat hole Shire…here are the marks of a conspiracy. Now maybe he that bore these things was a creature you would not grieve to lose, or maybe otherwise…one dear to you, perhaps? If so take swift counsel for Sauron does not love spies. His fate falls on your choice."
"Where is your prisoner? Bring him forth, and we will consider what terms you wish to make," Gandalf said.
"Surety you crave but none is offered," the messenger said. "This prisoner obviously means little to you." The black rider looked skyward and the Nazgul that had been circling high above slowly descended. He turned back to the captains and started relaying his terms, "You will surrender your arms here and now, and withdraw across the Andruin, taking oaths to never again assail the land of Mordor. The lands east of the river shall be Mordor's, and west of the river shall be tributary to the dark lord. In his mercy, Sauron gives men leave to govern their own affairs, but they may not bear arms, and they must rebuild Isengard for its new ruler, one more trustworthy than its last."
"We will not freely give the lord of Mordor what he must fight many wars to gain," Gandalf said. He threw off his cloak, and a great light shown from him and he grabbed the tokens from the black rider. "These we will take in memory of our friend, but as for your terms, we reject them. Begone!"
The black messenger roared with anger and backed away from them. He looked up and the Nazgul swooped down and dropped Miranda at his feet before making the climb skyward again. She fell with a harsh thud, knocking the breath out of her, and the black rider swiftly grabbed a handful of her hair and backed further away.
Everyone's heart stopped and Aragorn's horse almost reared up when he involuntarily pulled back on the reigns. Haldir quietly gasped in shock, "Miranda," and stood in his saddle, reaching for his sword but Elrohir quickly grabbed his arm.
"Wait for Gandalf," Elladan whispered.
"Then here is a reason to reconsider," the rider said as he drew a knife and held it to Miranda's throat. "Comply or I will kill her."
"No! Gandalf, no!" Miranda shouted. "He's bluffing! And even if he isn't, don't you dare do it!"
"I never argue with a Seer," Gandalf said. "Your errand is over." Gandalf backed away, and everyone else did the same.
"So be it," the messenger said and grabbed Miranda by the neck and tossed her on his horse. He mounted up behind her and turned back to the gates and galloped inside. As he passed through, there was a clamor of drums and a horn. The gates swung wide and countless orcs poured out. The black rider halted near the wall and called up to his archers, "Kill the Elf in the red cloak!" Then he continued on at a break neck pace into the hills of Mordor.
Miranda closed her eyes and sobbed, "No!" Oh, please, oh please! Not Haldir! This was not how it was supposed to happen; she was supposed to cause a distraction long enough for Frodo to destroy the ring. Hurry Frodo! There was never supposed to be a battle.
*****
From the hills around them came innumerable scores of Orcs, and from within the walls poured out Easterlings, evil men in the service of Mordor.
There was nothing left to do but order the battle so the captains returned to their positions to prepare to face the massing horde that surrounded them. Upon one hill Aragorn and Gandalf stood beneath the banner of the White Tree, ready to give orders. Upon the other hill stood the banners of Rohan and Dol Amroth, White Horse and Silver Swan. The men stood in two great rings, facing outward in all directions, but toward the gates stood the sons of Elrond, with Haldir, Legolas, Gimli, and Imrahil and Pippin along with the Denedain.
Haldir was desperate to follow the black rider that had carried off Miranda, but there was no way past the hordes before him. The drums grew louder with orcs and evil men yelling insults and threats as the trumpets blared. Then came a rain of arrows and Haldir was struck by three arrows and fell from his horse…
*****
In the hills of Mordor, Miranda screamed in anguish… and the evil Mouth of Sauron laughed.