Once the elves and their newly acquired companions were a few leagues from the city, Mordae stopped running. Celebdraug slid a few meters past him, then came to a halt as well. Lynza and Draylen, who had been flying above the two, swooped down alongside them and with the familiar crack, changed into their human-like form.
"Yes?" Lynza asked in Endea, obviously the preferred language of the vampires.
"Alright," Mordae commanded in the same tongue, "Now that we're far enough from the city, you need to answer some questions."
"I would be glad to," the vampire answered with a slight nod.
"Now, I know you swear to not serve Mornië, but why should we trust that you won't kill us for your own purposes?" the elf inquired.
"You hate the Drow, no?" Lynza queried in response to his question, a small smile beginning to form on her face.
"Yes."
"You hate the Remnant, no?"
"Yes."
"You will kill the Remnant, no?"
"Yes." Mordae was beginning to sound somewhat frustrated.
"Bear with me," Lynza ordered. "The lychens are allied with the Remnant, no?"
Mordae nodded.
"Vrayon is allied with the Remnant as well."
Again, the elf nodded.
"We," Lynza gestured to herself and Draylen, "Hate the Drow, lychens, and vampires under Vrayon's command. In this instance, we are allies through common enemies. To kill you would harm our cause as well."
Mordae nodded very emphatically, a smile growing on his face; he always argued with logic, and was very impressed by the intellectual argument the vampire had placed before him.
"Very impressive, Lynza. I trust you completely, now," the warrior said with a slight bow. "Forgive me for questioning your loyalties."
Lynza nodded in acceptance.
"Well then," Celebdraug offered, "Shall we carry on?"
"Indeed." Lynza turned to Draylen and nodded.
The other vampire drew a long, silver horn from his cloak and blew a short blast on it. A moment later, a rustling sound approached swiftly from the north, growing in intensity until at last, a swarm of bats came to rest above the four on the ground.
"The rest of the Tvhesta," Draylen explained.
Lynza disappeared with a pop, joining the swirling storm of creatures above them.
Draylen raised his eyebrows, bowed slightly, and, following another cracking sound, flew in a tight circle around Celebdraug's head. She swatted at the bat, which did a quick loop and whirled up into the swarm.
The elf turned to her cousin as Draylen was lost in the horde. "Shall we?"
The horde swept northward, the elves following below.
Athfaë and Dacil raced hand in hand to Mordae and Celebdraug's home as the sun set over Lorien. Dacil rapped eagerly on the large golden door, bringing a smiling Gandalf to the entryway.
"Good evening," the wizard said, his eyes twinkling. He glanced at the excited Venyarohirrim's faces. "Excited, are we?"
They nodded emphatically, and Gandalf laughed.
He stepped aside, gesturing into the house. "Come."
The three made their way to the spire in which the palantír resided, where they sat around the pedestal where the orb rested.
Gandalf placed his palm on the glowing object, then nodded to the other two, indicating that they should follow his example.
Once they were all touching the palantír, Gandalf closed his eyes and began to seek the minds of the two elves, as he had done so many times before. He again glimpsed the Misty Mountains as they flashed by, but this time, the vision angled northeast, into the forests of the land once known as Arnor, now Ramgost, taken by the vampires and twisted into a land of eternal darkness.
Gandalf felt a rush of confusion, but kept his mind bent toward the palantír and discovering the elves' location. Soon, he passed through a dark cloud of bats, beneath which ran Mordae and Celebdraug.
What in Illúvatar's name are you doing? Gandalf questioned immediately.
Mae Govannen to you to. And we're doing what you told us to do, Celebdraug replied. We're going to go get the last dwarf ring.
With a horde of vampires?
Mordae didn't think it was such a hot idea, either, Celebdraug noted somewhat resignedly.
Why do we trust them? the wizard inquired angrily.
Nothing about them points to Mornië at all, Mordae commented. I think we may have just stumbled on a sort of hidden civilization of vampires that surfaced after the Remnant took over.
Gandalf sighed. I suppose I'm just going to have to trust you two. Keep your eyes open.
Always, the warriors responded simultaneously.
I have some friends that wish to speak with you, Gandalf announced, changing the subject rapidly.
Fans? Mordae asked.
The wizard laughed. You'll have to decide that for yourself. I must go; try to show a little respect to my guests, if you could. Namarie.
With that, the wizard vanished, and his presence was replaced by that of Athfaë and Dacil.
Mae Govannen, Mordae acknowledged their arrival.
Wow, Athfaë murmured, not responding to the elf. This is amazing.
Dacil cleared his throat. Um...May Govunnin... he muttered in a poor attempt to mimic Mordae's greeting.
The elves laughed.
Oh! Athfaë cried, as if suddenly becoming aware of the other warriors' presence. Greetings!
Mae Govannen, Celebdraug replied. Who art thou?
We are Venyarohirrim, my lords, Dacil explained.
No 'my lords', Mordae corrected. He paused. Venyarohirrim? As in New Edoras?
Yes, Athfaë acknowledged. As a matter of fact, do you remember the servant girl in New Edoras?
It has been only four days, of course we do, Celebdraug scoffed. Did she make it out?
I am she.
Deorwine! Celebdraug exclaimed.
Actually, Athfaë is my real name. I was part of the king's security detail.
Who is thy friend? Mordae questioned.
I am Dacil, General of the Venyarohirrim and the Cavalry Commander of the Fellowship.
Should thou not then declare war on thyself? Celebdraug thought out loud, slightly confused.
It's a long story, Dacil said with a slight laugh.
Oh, do tell, Mordae commanded eagerly.
In time, Athfaë halted the explanation. We have more pressing matters to discuss.
Such as? Celebdraug sighed.
The current situation of our armies.
Our? Mordae asked incredulously.
We have allied our forces with yours in Lorien, Dacil explained.
Ah, really? Mordae seemed intrigued. This is good news. Who commands them? Dacil?
No, Athfaë interjected. I do.
Wow. From security guard to Supreme Commander in four days, Mordae said in mock awe. Impressive.
What rank do you hold? Dacil asked curiously.
General of the Noldor, Sindar, Sylvan, Numenorian, Gondorim, Rohirrim, and Dunedain; High Mage, assassin, and humble servant, Celebdraug rattled off.
Servant to whom? Mordae quipped. The last time thee was humble, Turin was in his crib.
The last time thee was good looking, Feänor was in his crib, Celebdraug retorted.
You two are certainly not what we had expected, Dacil commented.
Celebdraug laughed. Boring?
Yes. I mean, no. I mean... the man trailed off.
The other three laughed again.
As if it matters, I hereby make you Generals of the Venyarohirrim, Athfaë said in a formal voice.
Do I get a pin? Mordae asked eagerly.
Sure.
Yay!
The group laughed again. I could make you honorary lieutenants in the Fellowship, Dacil offered.
Ew. Thank thee for the offer, but I fear we must decline, Celebdraug replied.
Speaking of ranks, how did you two manage to accomplish your own? Mordae inquired.
The two humans related their story to the elves for the next hour as the other warriors ran on in the forests of Old Arnor, pausing occasionally to answer a question by one of the elves.
Finally, Athfaë concluded, And here we are now, talking with the two greatest military minds in the history of Middle Earth.
First and second greatest, Mordae corrected. But we love Celey anyway.
The humans chuckled.
So, what is our plan of action? Athfaë questioned, her eyes brightening.
We had not given it much thought, Celebdraug responded. We were unaware we had sufficient forces to really do anything.
We have one-thousand elves, Mordae began listing. Fifty-thousand Dunedain, one-hundred-fifty thousand Venyarohirrim...
And one-hundred thousand more in Isen Meares, if you could convince them to join, Athfaë interjected.
Fifty-fifty thousand more in the Fellowship, Dacil offered.
And two-thousssand vampiresss, Lynza's voice hissed.
What in Udun? Celebdraug cried.
Ven in bat form, ve can mindssspeak.
Thou hast been listening in the whole time? Mordae asked, not entirely friendly sounding.
Of courssse not. Jussst the lassst few minutesss.
Who is she? Athfaë growled.
Lynza, the vampire offered. An ally in your qvessst.
A vampire? Dacil questioned extremely warily.
No. A beautiful fairy princesss sssent from Prettyland to make you sssmile vith joy, Lynza spat sarcastically. Yesss, a vampire. And no, I do not serve ze Remnant scum.
If you trust her, Athfaë said slowly, Then so do we.
Zank you, Lynza replied. You are sssmart for a human.
Thank you, I think, Athfaë responded.
The group laughed.
Anyvay, asss I vasss going to sssay, ve vill be at our camp in but a few momentsss. Can ve get your attention, pleassse.
Of course, Celebdraug replied, her presence in the mind conversation vanishing with Lynza's.
Namarie, friends. Until we meet again, Mordae said, and his presence began to fade as well.
The palantír were dangerous weapons that few could properly wield. There were many legends as to how they came into existence. The elves said they were stars fallen from the heavens as a gift to the Elder race from the Valar. The Gondorim legend was that a great king forged them long ago. The dwarves insisted that one of their own had created the orbs in the dark mines, and that they had been stolen by elves. The Numenorians claimed their greatest mariners had discovered the tools in the open sea, floating atop the water.
Only one being remained in Middle Earth that knew the true origin of the weapons. Maneva Mornië. They had been fashioned from pure dark energy by his master, Morgoth, in the First Age. The Dark Lord had then scattered them across Middle Earth where he knew they would be found by men, who would use them to serve what they though were their own purposes. In reality, Morgoth would use the weapons to sway kings' decisions, send false information, and create utter chaos and disorder without the knowledge of the victims.
There were many applications of the palantír, all based on the power of the being wielding them. An average human could do nothing with the orb save look at its swirling surface. A more powerful human or an average elf could use the palantír as what they were normally used for, a seeing-stone. The range of the sight varied on the power of the user, but it was generally quite a vast distance.
A more powerful elf or a Mage could use the palantír to speak with whomever they desired; this was a rarity now in Middle Earth. A High Mage could use the weapon to see and speak with whomever they wished, and a Grand Mage, of which only two still lived in Middle Earth – Gandalf and Mornië – could project any image that he wanted to any being he thought of, and communicate in innumerable methods.
Mornië smiled to himself. He would now use the palantír in such a way as had not been seen since Sauron had diminished in power so greatly in the Third Age.
Just before Mordae's presence vanished, his voice returned.
Pertaining to our plans, Mordae said, Tell Aragorn and Gandalf to pull our of our forces back to Lorien. Once we have amassed, they should take the troops through the Dead Marshes, where you will wait for Celebdraug and me to arrive.
How long do you think you will be? Dacil asked.
Surprised, Mornië, who posed as Mordae, stalled for a second. We should be in...Moria...soon, he said cautiously.
Moria? I thought you were going to Khazad. Athfaë queried, sounding perplexed.
Mornië smiled. So that was where the elves were heading. Moria, Khazad, same thing, the Drow said suavely, Filled with those dwarf and orc scum.
The humans laughed.
One final thing, Mornië interrupted, a sudden thought coming to him. Tell Gandalf not to attempt to contact us; I fear that someone may be watching.
There was a pause, and Mornië held his breath.
Then, Athfaë. I shall.
Thank thee. I am needed. Namarie.
Nuhmoriea.
The humans laughed again, and south in Baradu, Mornië rolled his eyes in disgust.
The presence of 'Mordae' vanished.
Mornië dropped to his knees, sweat poring down his forehead from the exertion it had taken to accomplish what he had. He inhaled deeply, then, turned his head to the night sky and laughed a long, evil, laugh. He had earned it.
