(A/N: For disclaimers, the Valar and the setting belong to Tolkien, the several original characters are mine. This is the last chapter in what I'm calling Part I- which translates to 'there will be a noteworthy time lapse between this chapter and the next.' I've already started work on it and have a pretty solid outline of the next three or four chapters, but I hope not to spend too much time on those until I've tackled another plot bunny that's scratching me and given Halls a much-needed update. All of which is a long way of saying it may be a bit before I post another update. Though if I pick up a lot of reviews, I may be inclined to change my focus…)
Review Responses:
TreeHugger: Yes, I do know what you mean about the embellishment of Graldor's activities, though I must admit I did laugh at you when I read that comment. Caldrion was speaking for me in that scene, expressing both my personal views now (which may partially explain my inability to attract a girlfriend in this sexually-charged age) and my opinion about Middle-earth (that it was not the free love paradise some people would make it). Of course, Caldrion's resistance may make things more difficult for him later… You've touched on one of the more difficult parts of this story: insinuating things for plot purposes that I can't state explicitly because they would badly violate canon. I just hope I can get you to where I'm taking you with this in a timely fashion :-)
Dragon-of-the-north: Interesting that you interpreted Graldor's lusts as the work of the ring- I had been thinking that he had a weakness for women long before he met Annatar, but I could be wrong :-) I find it funny that both you and Tree really liked Caldrion's choice- this being a 'downer' story, he's going to have to fall eventually. Thank you for the compliment about my prose- from someone whose style is as excellent as yours, that's high praise indeed. Hope this chapter lives up to your expectations.
Greetings from Mordor: Only a little blood in this one, I'm afraid, but I'm already plotting out a chapter length battle for Chapter VIII, so just wait a bit. Your compliments keep giving me goosebumps. The Sauron POV was a lot of fun to write, because it's so much easier to wrap your mind around an 'apprentice villain' (he'll kill me for saying that) who's making things up as he strikes out on his own than a big eye that would be omnipotent if it recovered a piece of jewelry that it couldn't even wear. Caldrion's education will take an interesting turn shortly… And as for talent (stealing words from Edison), in fanfic it's largely a matter of getting a good shot of inspiration and then perspiring while the story falls into place (at least for me).
Wings of the Storm, Chapter VI- Where There's a Will…
When morning came, the freedman Ratley found Caldrion curled up next to the fire, shivering despite the warmth of the summer dawn. He must have fallen asleep at some point, but he did not remember anything from the night except his seemingly impossible fight with the accursed voice in his head. Now, with the return of the sun, the voice was gone, but it was replaced by a dull pounding. Caldrion couldn't remember that many details of the one time Graldor had gotten him good and drunk, but he had a feeling that the morning after that compared favorably to this one. They would go the first stage of the way home today, and he could already tell that it would not be fun.
His mood was not helped by the attitude of the other soldiers. Many had seen the events of the previous evening, and the rest had heard about it. As they scrambled about, making ready to leave this last former orc settlement, they made no attempt to disguise their looks of contempt. Just as Graldor was revered for his midnight skills, so now would Caldrion be reviled for his lack of willingness to use those same skills. He saw a few glances that might have been sympathetic, but none were willing to risk the ire of their fellows by approaching him. Whatever respect Caldrion had gained among the men for his military exploits during this campaign had evaporated, and there would not be another opportunity to regain it this summer. Not that the men really mattered… or so he told himself. It was the leaders who mattered. He and Sirgo now had some kind of understanding, though Caldrion still wasn't entirely sure about the strange nomad. He knew Neblis would be pleased with his respect for women, and Frealine seemed to have a similar 'hands off' philosophy with regard to the female ex-captives. And Graldor would forget about this soon enough.
But there was still that nagging hope in his mind. Farvas was unquestionably attractive to him, and he still thought that, if he could talk to her, he could make her understand his vision of love and perhaps, given time, they could share that vision together. So it was that, as she and Halin walked past him, he opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say but only hoping to make her understand. He had not gotten past "um…" when she opened her mouth and spat at him, catching him full in the cheek. As he recoiled, he saw Halin look at him with something akin to pity, before Farvas grabbed his arm and led him away. "That did not work so well," thought Caldrion, wiping the spit off his face. "This may not be a winning strategy. This certainly does not seem to be the way into that girl's heart."
Caldrion's lingering headache seemed to have significantly lowered his pain threshold. By midafternoon he needed all his strength and focus just to stay on the horse, and his pain was not improved by the cloud cover that had gathered shortly after their departure and was now drenching them with a soaking rain. When they finally stopped for the night, Caldrion fell asleep before anyone else had started eating. The next morning wrought only a slight improvement in his aching muscles, though at least the rain had stopped.
By noon, the sun had finally emerged from behind the clouds, which lightened his mood considerably. Shortly thereafter, Sirgo pulled up his mount next to Caldrion's. "I want to apologize to you. Until the other night, I had not realized what we had in common. There is something special about you, something unusual, allowing you to perceive more than a normal man can. I do not know for certain, because I cannot see what it is that is now happening in this world, but I do see that you are an important part of these happenings, as is Graldor, as is all of Aratur."
Caldrion stared at him. "Who are you?"
"I am Sirgo, prophet of the nomads and servant of Graldor, King of Aratur."
"No, I mean, what are you?"
"At this juncture, even I cannot answer that. I do know this, though, that I am not here without purpose, and neither are you, and neither is Graldor. Though few care to remember, the Valar and, indeed, the One, still live and, though it might not seem so, they are still active in this world."
"How? I see no purpose, only existence: birth, life, death."
"It is that very existence through which we have purpose. The Valar work their will through you, through me, through Graldor, through Neblis. And there are forces that oppose the Valar, and those forces, whatever they are, are coming after Graldor. He is a threat to the dark powers; how, I cannot say, but they are after him. And now their wrath is turned against you and me. But they must not get us. They must not get Graldor. He has a purpose to fulfill, and we are to help and protect him."
"He is already fulfilling it. He will become the 'Mightiest man of the eastern world' in truth. He will conquer and civilize these plains."
"To what end?"
"The Valar know."
"Aye. That they do, lad. That they do."
That evening, Caldrion settled in for the night feeling more content than he had in a long time. Even if he couldn't quite call Sirgo a friend, he now understood what the old man thought a lot better. Their conversation from that afternoon had been deeply reassuring and had reminded him of the faith that went along with the morals he had professed in the face of temptation a couple days ago. Though the thought that Graldor was nothing more than a pawn in the grander clash between the wills of good and evil disturbed him, the idea that he was on the same side as the Valar comforted him. And, of course, there was the fact that they would arrive home tomorrow afternoon.
As if to complete Caldrion's happiness, Graldor came over before Caldrion had retired. The two had not spoken since that incident two nights before. "I want to apologize for ignoring you. I've thought about it, and I really don't care. Sometimes I even wish I had your force of will, to resist the temptations of women. Sometimes, of course, I don't want act like you," he said with a grin.
"Thank you," Caldrion grinned in response, and they embraced as brothers. Even though he had known Graldor would forget about it eventually, that did not temper his relief and gratitude that Graldor once again accepted him.
"I'm worried about the ring, Caldrion. When I wear it I feel powerful, invincible, and you've seen what I can do to orcs." Caldrion did not need reminding of how far the heads of decapitated orcs flew after invisible Graldor had cut them. He remembered one in particular that had sailed all the way across the field of battle and struck the cavalryman Lenniol with such force that he fell off his horse. "When it's on, though, I feel like I'm being watched, and once or twice I've even felt like the eye of the watcher was trying to direct my actions."
"Then don't wear it. The fighting for this year is over, and we have a good army. We can win battles without the ring. I don't know if it actually does you harm or if these are merely sensations induced by your invisibility, but I see no reason to find out if we can accomplish what we need without it."
"I had hoped you might say that. Saves me from having to make that decision on my own. I can now rest peacefully with one less worry on my mind. I will not let the ring determine my course of action."
The night and last leg of the journey were uneventful until they arrived at the gate of Aratur that afternoon. There Dalran of the watch informed them that Deol had claimed Kingship of Aratur and was holding the city against them. Apparently, he had reminded them of Graldor's ability to become invisible (which the majority of people had not seen demonstrated since the night he had received the ring) and accused him of being a 'witch king' who sought to corrupt and mislead his people on this 'damnfool quest to conquer the world.'
Graldor, infuriated beyond reason, would have commenced an attack on the city immediately, but Sirgo restrained him by pointing out that if the attacked Aratur, they would no longer have homes. Graldor then challenged Deol to single combat, but Dalran answered that the King was holding court at the moment and could not be distracted from that task. However, Elthor was here to negotiate a peaceful settlement with Graldor and his army. Sirgo, to no one's surprise, took charge of the negotiations, which was probably just as well considering that Graldor's first inclination was to take off Elthor's head and his second was to storm off in the opposite direction. Caldrion followed at a safe distance as Sirgo and Elthor began to talk. Graldor was raging as Caldrion approached.
"Damn that bastard. I'll kill him. He won't get away with this usurpation; I won't let him. I'll put on the ring and place his head on the wall."
"Don't. All you would do is prove to the people that Deol was right. If you use the ring again, they will be sure you are an evil witch king. They will hate you."
"Let them hate, so long as they fear. The army knows and trusts me. They know that the ring is an aid in combat, a great ally of our army. I will use it to destroy my enemy."
"No. Don't you remember what you told me last night? You cannot use the ring."
"There is no other way. I must do it. I will do it. I won't have that bastard sitting on MY throne." He slipped on the ring and Caldrion watched his shadowy form slink over to the gate and slip through the slim opening from whence Elthor had come out, wondering how worried he ought to be.
Shortly thereafter, Sirgo came to where Caldrion was an inquired about Graldor's whereabouts. "He's… um… indisposed at the moment." Caldrion could not say what instinct told him not to tell Sirgo the truth, especially in light of their recent conversations.
"I hope he's done soon. Elthor says that Deol will let us back into the city if he surrenders the ring to Deol and he and the army swear fealty to Deol. He will not allow any who were not part of Graldor's original band to enter the town and he intends to expel my people who remained behind as well. He says all these foreigners are here only to help subject the first settlers of Aratur to Graldor's evil will."
"Damn. What is our plan then?"
"I have to get Graldor's permission for this, but I know a way, old magic that might be called the work of a witch, to remove Deol from the throne without harming anyone else. I would be unable to stay in Aratur if I did it, since no one would trust me anymore, but it would restore Graldor to his home, which is critical if he is to fulfill his purpose. If Aratur falls outside his control, Graldor will never be able to rule the plains. Under no circumstances can he use the ring in public again- not today, not ever. If he does not use it to regain his throne, he may be able to regain people's trust once Deol is dead, but if he uses it today he will never be loved again."
Caldrion was both angry and frightened by Sirgo's words regarding Graldor and the ring, but there was little either of them could do to stop Graldor at this point, and he decided it would be better if Sirgo did not find out what Graldor had done until the deed was accomplished. So he changed the subject slightly. "You really think Deol is the source of these lies? Ambitious the lord of the watch may be, but I have never thought of him as clever enough to think up this idea of an evil conspiracy. And come to that, how did he convince everyone of this silly idea? Graldor picked him as regent because he had neither the imagination nor the charisma to usurp the throne. Yet here he is, a very successful usurper. How?"
Before Sirgo could attempt to answer, there was a loud commotion and the gates swung wide open. Melgras, with a few others standing beside him, proclaimed "The Lord Graldor, King of Aratur, bids his faithful soldiers enter the capital of his realm and proceed to the King's Hall." As the first soldiers crossed the threshold, Melgras said something to them in a lower voice and they seized Elthor and Dalran.
Caldrion and Sirgo hurried to the gate, where they were joined by Neblis and Frealine. Sirgo quickly found the boy Betlin, who had been standing with Melgras, and asked him what had transpired.
"Deol was holding a court, trials for those few of us left who had managed to resist his stupid lies, remained loyal to Graldor, and refused to swear loyalty to Deol. Deol was sitting on the throne, Yethas standing by his side. He had already overseen the executions of Mardec the soldier and Brinder the farmer and was sentencing Orthior when, without warning, Deol himself was decapitated and a voice from behind the throne rang out: 'O you of little faith! Whom do you serve, the rightful king or the usurper and his lies?' And then this sunbeam came through the window and settled across the throne, and the light suddenly seemed to have substance and weight. And out of the light stepped Graldor, the true King of Aratur, displayed as such before those who had so recently turned from him. And the whole hall fell on its knees. He ordered Yethas, Elthor, and Dalran seized, and commanded Melgras, Tatalis, Fremus, and the remainder of those who had stayed loyal to go and open the gates."
Betlin turned to lead the officers on with the rest of the troops. Sirgo hesitated and turned to Caldrion. "You should not have withheld the truth from me, but it matters not, because I was wrong. He used the ring and regained their love. He is fulfilling the will of the Valar. There is no other explanation."
The scene in the hall was grisly, even for Caldrion, who had seen countless orcs slain this way. Deol's body had been laid prostrate before the throne. In the middle of the open space sat his head, its eyes staring out accusingly at the assembled multitude. Against the wall behind the throne, Yethas, Elthor, and Dalran stood half-naked, bruised and bloody from the beating Graldor had commanded the soldiers administer. And on the throne itself sat Graldor, cloaked in awesome and terrible majesty, looking merciless and inaccessible.
That afternoon, Graldor proclaimed a general amnesty to the civilians of Aratur and accepted their collective oath. Over the next three days he tried Smosur, Egien, Thalond, Wyslun, and all the other traitorous soldiers individually. Each was acquitted and readmitted into the Grand Army of Aratur, but only after being publicly humiliated. Each day culminated with an execution, as the heads of Dalran, Yethas, and Elthor joined that of Deol as decoration impaled on the top of the wall.
Finally, on the fifth night after their return, the celebratory banquet was held. Graldor had not yet emerged from his inaccessible isolation and, much to Caldrion's chagrin, he insisted that Fremus read the full list of titles. Caldrion was keeping himself from dozing in his seat by trying to decide which of the titles were actually plausible and which remained complete fantasies when he noticed that Fremus had inserted a new title: "A King head and shoulders above all others."