Chapter 28
Hearts of Mordor
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Their exit was a farce from the start. Lurgsh, who was in fine condition, had been limping around Lhûg since he got off his horse. They bought the slowest donkey in town, maybe one of Ureano's, ostensibly loaded with books and texts. The poor jenny actually did have a few but under the pack-frame weapons were within easy reach. Nag Kath carried his.
Shelturn had made his peace. This was a dangerous mission but it was a dangerous world. He was a warrior. The man dressed in the travel clothes of any soldier of the Nûrnen with lapel gorgets from every army that wore them in his front pocket. Idgshtok, with braided hair, was ostensibly their servant but he was also dressed to play any part needed. All four carried their swords either at their sides or on their backs. Keldan wanted to come too but he needed to stay close to the Bror.
There would almost certainly be a Ghorandul Visitor dogging their steps the whole way. The man was not hard to spot, lurking where he shouldn't be as animals were readied and provisioned. He might see things he did not need to report; a decision for later.
On good horses they trudged about the same pace as Ureano. Travelers were few and the villagers always stopped to stare. Twice, local toughs thought to share their cargo but thought better of the swords and bow. It took a month to reach the Sirlath River into Ghurzun. It would have been faster to cut cross country but that put them smack in the middle of the two western warlords fighting for control of those deltas. Studuray Nûrn was a crossroads for the path along the western bank and the river-border of Aômul's realm in northern Mordor.
They reached it towards dusk and made camp in time for a half-dozen hungry deserters from the western war to stalk towards the fire. The soldiers didn't even bother to threaten. Rushing in with bare steel, arrows took the first two in their faces. The 'fast' finished the other four before the scholars could reach their bows. It was too dark to cross so they left them where they lay. Nag Kath had had these campfires before. Shelturn saw some of what the Elf could do but this was new to Lurgsh and Idgshtok. Nobody was hungry. Hopefully the Visitor behind them would think the raiders were already dead.
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Three quiet days brought them to the Nûrn crossroads, the worst place in the history of mankind. Their path continued along the lake-shore to the three-river delta. The spur to the right led to what most people think when they think of Mordor; the plain of Gorgoroth. This was the road where men bore the heavy grain bags that fed the orcs of Sauron. Many died under the whip. Many were eaten when they arrived. Surviving orcs came back this way and were slaughtered by men of the lake. If Nag Kath had ever wondered why he wasn't enjoying wine, women and song in Dol Amroth, staring up that road put things in perspective. The scholars let the bloody changeling stare as long as he wanted.
The next day, two riders passed them like they were standing still. With luck that would be a Visitor making for his Lord reporting that Rhûn and Khand were massing cavalry at the open end of Mordor alongside the Ghorandul who had been tailing them. Idgshtok spit where they crossed his shadow.
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One more day brought them to another fork. The main road continued along the Nûrnen. To the right was Aômul's capital of Truzurn on a fresh-water lake above the east side of the Maegond River. It was ten miles upstream. Uniarra Nûrn was only another ten leagues the other direction. Their buffer was strong river currents. Nulvanash would have to send an army a long way west to ford in enough numbers to hurt the Hurm. The scholars arrived about mid-afternoon and found the only building that could house the royal family of Nûrn.
Two men, guards in the loosest sense, loitered at the front door. They straightened when the four scholars walked up the short staircase. The young foreigner told them in their own tongue that the group was here to see Hurm Aômul with references. One of the guards went inside and the other tried to look like he might do something if the gore-splattered giant caused trouble. The man was back quickly with a more senior soldier who spoke with Idgshtok, now schooled for these conversations. The Sarn't shut the door on his way back inside leaving both guards a few uncomfortable feet from the scholars.
It was an unending quarter-bell before he returned and told the guests to follow him. Their swords were not demanded but the Hurm appeared at the other end of a long, low room with four men to either side of him. They would have this discussion from thirty feet away. As practiced, Idgshtok greeted the Hurm with dignity and respect before stating that they were the folk his esteemed neighbor Rydovosh told him would be coming.
Only the Hurm's eyes moved. He was a hard-earned forty with thinning brown hair and the kind of face that can't help but scowl. He nodded to the men on either side and sat cross-legged where he was standing. The guards splayed against the wall and the Chamberlain told Idgshtok to tell the four to sit where they stood. If the scholars hadn't just learned about Nag Kath's speed, this would have seemed a distinct disadvantage.
The Hurm spoke in a low, gravelly tone for a minute. The trooper translated that to say that he had heard from his fellow Hurm but he had done nothing with his troops. The guests were known enemies of the dougsh below the rivers so he would hear their petition.
Nag Kath spoke next. This had been practiced first from Westron to Khandian and then to the language of Mordor. "The evil Hurm of Ûniarra Nûrn will cross the Nargil shortly and make for the capital. It is there he will be destroyed"
Aômul nodded his head slowly. "That is a large boast. Do you think I will help?"
Nag Kath set the hook. "We are more concerned what you will do with the Maegond Delta." That was the finger of land between the two realms that had not been conquered by either side. Nulvanash had a worse river to ford than Aômul. Both claimed it but neither controlled it. Raiding parties from each side made it a misery for the people trying to scratch gureeq out of the contested soil.
The Hurm made Idgshtok repeat it and bristled, "What I do with my land is my business!"
It was Lurgsh's turn to speak. He looked at his fellow scholars first before saying, "Then we are mistaken. You have our sincere apology, Lord Hurm."
Mollified, the man rocked back on his hands with a, "Huummph."
Shelturn requested, "In the spirit of fellowship, can you give us a pass to travel through your troops towards the Liûrzrant River?"
A humorous man might have said; 'Gladly, if you can find any troops.' This was no laughing matter. If he could occupy above the Liûrzrant and Rydovosh below, that would settle the pompous Assured right proper. Aômul asked, "What do you want?"
Nag Kath said, "In two days time, move your army across the Maegond. Make much dust, light many campfires. When this is over, it will be yours."
"Why would the dougsh Hurm not attack?"
Nag Kath replied, "He seeks sorcery in Nargil. If he gets it, he will rule all."
The Hurm sat stock still for a long moment before calling a counselor to sit next to him. They spoke softly for a few minutes. Nag Kath could hear it but did not understand. He was fairly sure that the conversation was about the weight of power. The sheer brutality of Sauron's lands was that men, food and steel were uneasily balanced by bloody water. Aômul did not fear combat more than any of the others like him, but sorcery was different. For ten years he had heard tales of the puffy ruler dealing-out pain with a wave of his arm. The Hurm did not understand that. The ruler of Ûniarra Nûrn drew foulness to him. Aômul was five when the orcs dropped dead and the overseers either became leaders or were torn to stew by bare hands. He liked his life now. If occupying his rightful lands would help these men rid the lake of Nulvanash, he would take that chance.
With gravity the man spoke, "I will consider this."
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The only troops they found after fording the Maegond were Nulvanash's men on the north bank of the Liûrzrant. Nag Kath had seen his share of sullen, bullying soldiers but these lads won the ribbon. With a master who believed 'might makes right', everything trickled down. There was a genuine ferry docked on the other side of six infantrymen who rose and sneered at the approaching scholars. The biggest drawled something that could only be; 'What do you want, dougsh?'
Idgshtok had worked on this response more than the rest combined, "We are here at the call of Uvuo."
"Sure you are."
The trooper nodded to Shelturn who produced a note. It had a single rune surrounded by a ring. The corporal changed his tune in a hurry and shouted to a man on the ferry to wave a yellow flag. That would start the horse on the other side nearly a quarter mile away. They all got on the barge except for the jenny. She had had about enough of Mordor. After some heehawing and pulling, she was loaded. There were no rails or hooks. If you went over, you swam. Loutish soldiers on the other side knew from the flag that these were not men to be trifled with. Shelturn showed the corporal the same note and a guard walked them to the central building.
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The capital city was fairly new. With few trees, everything was made of rock or mud bricks making the buildings the same color as the dirt. The corporal told them to stay out front and went in to fetch one of the Richtren Visitors. Somehow the scholars expected a fiend in black robes but the fellow was dressed like every other soldier except for a reddish collar on his tunic. He said in passable Khandian, "You are expected. Please come this way."
The Visitor deposited them in a fair sized room with one window. Shelturn instinctively gazed at avenues of escape. Looking around they realized just how much they would need to rely on each other. One of them spoke every language needed. But they also spoke some of those languages better than they should. Nag Kath was now fluent in Khandian and wrote it well, but was not supposed to. Idgshtok would have to struggle with his native tongue because anyone who spoke it was an enemy.
At length, a spare man who was dressed in black arrived and said in Khandian, "Ah, gentlemen. I am so glad you have come. I hope your trip was free of trouble." No one complained. "I am Uvuo, advisor to his Excellency the Assured."
The Scholars took that as a prompt to introduce themselves in their assumed native languages. Uvuo got right to the point, "We have asked you here to consult on several pieces of our heritage written in tongues no longer spoken." He had to stop every sentence so Lurgsh, now Scholar Tsitriq, could translate it for the pale northerner.
It was long understood that complete answers might land them in a black pit so everything they contemplated would take hours of painstaking research and consultation. It was nearing dinner so the Visitor concluded with, "Please, refresh yourselves after much toil. The attendants will take you to your quarters and meals will be brought. Tomorrow we will meet the Assured."
One of the attendants was going to pull the bag off the poor donkey until the Dúnedain beat him to it. A growl from the towering creature convinced the servant that the guests were welcome to carry their own luggage. They were shown a mid-sized room with four cots and a single large water basin. A bucket in the corner was the privy. Dinner was two large bowls of cooked grain with some kind of fat and the tough greens Nag Kath chewed here before.
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About breakfast time, a red-collar opened the door to let sun filter in and gestured for the men to follow him. They were led into a large room with a higher ceiling than they had yet seen around the Nûrnen. In a black throne on a raised dais sat the Assured with Uvuo standing beside him. The scholars formed a line twenty feet away from the man and bowed deeply. Being blasphemers, they were not forced to kowtow. Shelturn counted eight guards with red collars inside the room; one at each window and two more next to both doors.
They all knew the face by heart from Nag Kath's drawing. He was a little fatter and the effect was intensified by padded armor against knives. He turned the ring on the first finger of his right hand. Uvuo did the talking. "Hail Assured, Ruler of All Nûrn!" The scholars managed halfhearted second bows in varying degrees.
Uvuo cleared his throat and announced in Khandian, "You are here to help the Assured divine mysteries of ancient documents using your learning and tongues." Lurgsh gave that to everyone in Westron.
Designated speaker Tsitreq added, "We are honored to serve the house of such an esteemed ruler."
Nulvanash seemed a bit piqued at them not using his full title but nodded for his Visitor to proceed. The man would educate them in the fullness of time. They could see the concern on his face. A subaltern was waiting by the door. The Assured waved him up and received a report. It was not what he wanted to hear. Nulvanash asked a question and got an answer he didn't want either. With a wave of the ruler's hand, the man flew across the room and skidded to a few feet from the wall. He immediately prostrated himself with his head to the floor until told to leave. The demonstration was probably for the benefit of the visiting scholars and they were duly awed. That was more power than Nag Kath expected. Had the man found secrets in that ring? Did he have power already? It didn't really change their plan and it confirmed the man couldn't control his temper. They might need that.
Uvuo gestured for them to cross the room towards a small table with papers on top. A few steps into the trip, the Assured barked an order in Mordoran Plainstongue. Idgshtok turned, bowed and stumbled through an answer that showed he had barely understood. The kid had ice in his veins. That was a test. Uvuo said in Khandian to proceed and they gathered around the documents.
They were old manuscripts. The agreed plan was that nothing could be immediately translated without the scholars meeting privately. These were another test. Nag Kath recognized them as the same sort of requisitions and trash he used to keep because the backs were blank. Shelturn, now honored Scholar Quastille, formerly of Mistrand, shook his head in concentration. Lurgsh and Idgshtok looked on as if studying the Nuralth. Six sheets down, they reached something in Elvish. Nag Kath gazed at Uvuo as if to ask if he could touch it. The Visitor nodded and the Dúnedain brought it close to his face. It seemed to be a personal diary. He read a part about putting the children to bed after reading to them aloud which Lurgsh translated.
"Houghnosh!" That wasn't something the Assured needed to know. The stranger understood the womanish Elvish writings. He could understand others in due course. Lurgsh found something in his bailiwick to show competence. It was a piece from the Balchoth. That was not especially ancient. The nomadic warriors were active in the middle of the Third-Age, well after the Wain-Riders of the same region. Allies, but not servants of Sauron, clans of Balchoth were the dominant force among Easterlings for centuries.
They were also the model for Nulvanash's hierarchy. It helped that Nag Kath showed everyone the Visitor's rock tracings many times. Scholar Tsitreq pointed at a few of them and read them by their original and modern names. One was Fûl, the same one on the Visitor pass and stamped on the groats they altered in Lhûg.
Seemingly not charlatans, Uvuo said they should take the documents back to their quarters and prepare their findings for the Assured's pleasure. Idgshtok gathered them reverently and the four men left after deep bows to the motionless Nulvanash.
There was poor light in their room so Lurgsh asked if they could use a table near a window. That had to go almost all the way to the top for clearance. No one dared take authority for any decision at any time. The consequences burned in every mind. Half an hour later, the men were seated in four of the least comfortable chairs in Middle-earth. Chairs were rare. No one sat in the palace of the Assured. Westron would be the language of choice and a pidgin version of that when anyone was within earshot.
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Shelturn chuckled at the venerated archives, "Plenty here for wiping."
Lurgsh agreed, "Aye, this might be every scrap of old paper in the place. Let us assume that they know what these say so our interpretations should be as close as possible. We have already invented what needs to be said about the map."
Nag Kath broke out fresh paper and pencils or quills for their preliminary report. He dictated the dullest part of the Elf's journal into Westron and could have written it in Variag but was not supposed to know it. Lurgsh wrote that and also took on the Balchoth annals which were essentially Rhûnic with some of the symbols sprinkled in. Those seemed to invoke godlings of the east, probably more obligations of respect than shorthand. The man had the oratory of a scholar too if he needed drama in explaining.
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That would not be the following morning. Their presentation was designed to be tedious and succeeded. The Assured waved the hand without the ring which Uvuo took as a signal that the documents had been superbly studied and would be added to the national library. Then Nulvanash nodded to his henchman and the tone became more intense. On the same table sat three new documents. Two were single sheets that seemed older and simpler than yesterday's. The other was the map. Shelturn had to bite his lip recognizing his tea-mug stain on the dragon.
Lurgsh asked permission to pick-up one of the sheets, as if to imply the scholars did not consider any of them more important than the others. It was granted and he said in Khandian, "This is older, much older." Nag Kath walked a quarter turn around the table to look at his own script on the map but said nothing.
Uvuo did, "These are from the Assured's personal files. You will report on them as well." Igshtok started to roll them together when Nulvanash barked a command. The trooper had practiced not understanding and only stopped when the High Visitor said in Variag, "Those should stay here, young man." He laid them down gently and stood at less than soldierly attention.
As planned, Scholar Tsitreq observed, "This will take considerably longer, honored Lords. What conditions would you place on our deliberations?"
The High Visitor had practiced his part too, "The room to our right will serve as your new quarters. Your own papers will stay there as well. These documents will be brought to you in the morning and will remain under guard until dark." This was in a harder voice than he had used. They were all sure it could be harder still. One of the red collared Visitors took the three sheets into what could be called a vestibule. It was the mirror image of the entry room with two open windows, each guarded by a single man. Another man covered the door. These weren't rankers. They had red collars with swords and spears. None of them twitched. The scholars were shown back to last night's room to collect their things except for the weapons. They were glad of the Lembas. The table here could seat eight and the chairs were better. They started with the two sheets. That was purely Lurgsh's domain. Nothing looked particularly Elvish. Shelturn had to appear studious, offering comments in Westron. Their servant was not required to act scholarly but he cocked his ear at the two statues by the windows.
While the archivists were trying to earn their keep, riders approached the palace slowing from a dead run. The Visitor by the door slipped out and was back a few moments later saying in halting Khandian that today's session was over as he scooped the three sacred documents off the table. The guards left with him but there were still men posted along the perimeter of the grounds. This was what the scholars were waiting for. News had already reached the Assured there was trouble outside Mordor by way of the Bror and Khagan. Hopefully this was noise to the north that Aômul had crossed the Maegond, possibly in support of the great hosts riding east. If Rydovosh was holding to the script, he would be obviously not near the Nargil when Nulvanash felt forced to claim his rightful legacy in a mad rush due south. After this interruption, the Lords of Ûniarra Nûrn would want answers fast.
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Scholars were kept in the room the rest of the day and night. Nag Kath listened for breathing outside the door and heard it. The guards never said a word. They didn't really have to. Soldiers outside were moving fast and yelling orders. Horses were unsettled. Pigs were butchered. The army was moving.
The next day what they took to be a senior visitor came in with the four guards and the papers. Idgshtok cleared their own documents away to make room. Those archives were a assortment of counterfeits along with a pile of their own wipers collected in Lhûg. A few were on the same paper as the map. Secrets they divined for the Assured depended on which of the diversions were in play. Those had been practiced on the trip here, or there were nose scratches and chin rubs to steer the conversation.
The scholars concentrated on the two new sheets. Soldiers shouting outside was music to their ears. Idgshtok translated the cries into rough Westron as if commenting on the ancient texts. It was the same hurried preparation of every army, wondering where the saddles were or who had the food. Soldiers and Visitors had separate tracks.
The first of the sheets commemorated a Balchoth moot with a list of gifts presented to their Lord and those presenting them. None of the names were familiar. Presumably this was tribute and making sure who had paid their squeeze. Scholar Tsitreq could give fine oratory describing a ruler probably much like the hefty Assured.
The next was much more interesting. Lurgsh only mumbled. This was something from ancient right-livers. It detailed the origin of Gelansor. Much of it was the same as taught now but it was not known to be that old. There was no way the locals could counterfeit something on this parchment. The script was in the oldest Khandian with the flourishes that made it almost look like the elaborate Black Speech. Did it date from the same time? Lurgsh dictated detailed notes to Shelturn who crabbed them between lines of one of their own papers rather than write them fresh. Nag Kath turned his attention to the map. That was why they were here so they had better look like they paid attention.
Around mid-afternoon, Nulvanash and Uvuo walked in to receive their bows. The Assured jabbered something which the steady High Visitor converted to; "What have you learned?"
Scholar Tsitreq said, "We have translated the two documents. He started with the tribute list and recited almost as a herald in the court of the Lord Balchoth, emphasizing the praise heaped on the old warlord. Nulvanash seemed to think that went well. Tsitreq shifted to the right-living document and summarized Shelturn's comments. "Honored Lords, this is an old document that outlines family customs of peoples to the far east of these lands. It is …" He stopped for Shelturn's next sentences and continued, " … chiefly on the raising of children and holidays for their forgotten gods."
After Uvuo gave it to him in their tongue, Nulvanash managed a "Hummph."
The High Visitor delicately shifted to the remaining piece. "And have you made headway on the map?"
Lurgsh asked something of Nag Kath and received an answer. When that was not adequate, he asked something else and got a remonstration with rare gestures from the taciturn northerner. With dignity, Lurgsh turned back to the waiting lords and said, "Some of the writing is clear. It concerns the mountains towards Harad. But there are wards and locations that may be of Mordor itself. We may need to ask questions of you for reference. Tanisditter, here, thinks it should make itself known to us within the week."
That exchange between the Lords was not as smooth. The Assured spoke sharply and left in a huff. Uvuo rubbed his hands together and soothed, "Please continue your studies. We have every confidence they will bear fruit."
Sitting back at the table, Nag Kath sighed, "It is time to spring the trap."
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Uvuo's rooms were spare. Nice things held no charm for him. He was the fifth High Visitor. Their birth was the destruction of the One Ring. Always before always, Sauron had servants, men with sorcerous powers, men, even women, of the Yvsuldor or their minions. It was they who would visit him to learn his will or speak his voice from afar. It was they who instructed and threatened the lazy Variag and the witless Southron. The Nazgûl were at the top of the heap.
They all died with the reckoning. Anyone known to wield sorcerous powers was slain in vengeance along with their spawn. With the death of the soldier orcs, other men ranged from the basest slaves to men and orcs who whipped them. Almost everywhere, the latter were mutilated beyond recognition, helped when the clouds of the dark lord dissipated. But here on the western shore, a small group of overseers slew the mob. They knew how to control men and did so.
They agreed in fresh blood that Sauron was Lord and would return. Their lives would be better than before since they would serve directly rather than be buffered by the loathsome orcs. Warlords came and went, sometimes monthly. Visitors advised, intimidated and spoke words of greatness. Their own hierarchy was not based in violence. The dark lord took his time. It might be many generations of men before he could accept their help. High Visitors died or abdicated to their chosen successor and all men believed.
But the blood of sorcerers had been purged. It was not until fourteen years ago that a promising officer of Furnar Durosh showed signs of higher gifts. Close to the Visitor lair in Ûniarra Nûrn, officers were sent to assess and cultivate the Captain. One of those was Richtren Uvuo.
Nulvanash was almost what they were looking for; ruthless, singled-minded, cunning and persuasive. His volatility was concerning. And he was just smart enough to be effective. High Visitor Xaugoush decided the time had come. A gold ring had been found, stolen, stolen again and found by one of their order who told his superiors who to remove. There was only one kind of gold ring in Mordor. Survivors of Morannon said a fell-beast rider wheeled and made south as the others turned to Orodruin, the mountain of fire. It plummeted furthest from the tower. Could this be that ring? It had power.
Uvuo gave it to the impossibly rare male sorcerer who used it to inflict pain and demand unquestioning obedience from his men. Nulvanash's Hurm died suddenly, triggering the Visitors' plan to murder any potential rival. Within the year, the new Lord of Furnar Durosh had conquered Ûniarra Nûrn above him and consolidated his power between the two rivers.
The Visitors then split into two discreet corps. One was the security detail for Nulvanash. They were the best of his soldiers who well understood their favor. The other was the Yvsuldor reimagined; men spreading this gospel of malice to other lands, as they had done for the Dark Lord. They were carefully chosen for believing in his return. Nulvanash himself would build their stamina against interrogation and blasphemy with the ring. Six of their best were slain by the white ghost with Frûnzar in Rhûn or the pestilential winelands. A like operation in northern Harad succeeded. Visitors used it as a base to cry their words among that ruler's neighbors and co-opt local men whose black passions burned bright.
Now it seemed their toil and patience brought the next dark lord that much closer.
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The Scholars' plan relied on other men's armies. Lords capable of laying waste to Mordor were waiting on the doorstep. That they were drinking tea and discussing trade routes was unknown here. Idgshtok heard Aômul mentioned twice last night, and not respectfully either.
With luck, the Assured would decide he had to risk running up the river and fording with enough time and sorcery to capture power. Then he could bend all to his will. His hero had done so. Fighting Aômul to the north was the wrong direction. Nulvanash would probably win, but that left him open for Rydovosh to cross his army below. The scholars knew it was time to build the Assured's confidence.
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Uvuo came with two senior red-collars after Shelturn told one of the guards there were tidings. Elvish Scholar Tanisditter stayed sitting at the table and said in his harsh tongue, translated in Lurgsh's smooth tones, that there was sorcery involved. The older, separate part of the text on the map said that a man blessed with favor from the dark ones could enter places lesser men could not. Failing that, a man of the Wain-Riders, in congress with a man of the desert, could combine their separate, lesser humors to be received by the most high. Was that why both Khand and Rhûn were massing, each having one component of the pair?
Scholar Tsitreq said there was more about the qualifications of favor and the Dúnedain was going through their records to discover those secrets. Uvuo lost his usual chattiness and nodded before stalking out the door. The learned men would drop the hammer tomorrow.
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There is a certain calm that comes from knowing you have done everything you can. The situation is still tense, but not nagging. If all went wrong, Nag Kath would kill the entire leadership of this wretched realm but that would still leave a seething dunghill of men who would do the same thing, even without the ring. The scholars slept while Nag Kath watched.
Late the next afternoon, the scholars announced a breakthrough. Both the Assured and his High Visitor came into the room. Nulvanash was in battle armor this time but his right hand was ungloved. Nag Kath gave Lurgsh the story in pidgin Easterling and Sindarin. Lurgsh explained, "There is more to the puzzle, High Lords. The older writings describe how the favored man gains entry. Perhaps the map shows where but your humble scholars do not know the location. I apologize. Amid the hidden tribute of the Southrons is the test and the reward; a token of gold with a blue jewel, talisman of the Nazgûl Khamûl himself! It will take a ring to claim it. It must be of the Urmthalak rings held away from what is described as a 'citadel of sight'. Discovering it must come through flame because a false ring would destroy the bearer."
Hopefully they had heard that the One Ring showed its inscription after being heated. If not, Nag Kath could pantomime that. As rehearsed, Lurgsh dismissed the claim, "Of course, there are many such treasure maps in the bazaar that men will sell to the gullible. I hope your Excellency did not pay overmuch for this one."
They could see the wheels turning inside both minds. It was the real thing. Lurgsh set the hook, "One would need to already have a ring of power and it would have to be confirmed."
Nulvanash turned the ring on his finger and nodded to the Visitor. No one moved. Uvuo asked, "What must be done?"
Lurgsh looked at his towering northerner and asked a question. Nag Kath gave a short, halting version in Westron waving his fingers upwards which Lurgsh interpreted as, "It must be heated in fire to reveal writing of the source."
Put my precious in fire?! Nulvanash knew he must. Those rings were wrought in the hottest of smithies. The Assured ordered a large fire built in the stove of his throne room. It was already hot but the Lord's will be done. The Dúnedain also said he would need tongs and a large bucket of water. Those were brought as well.
The scholars were left alone for an hour and then summoned to the sweltering throne room. Nulvanash stepped off his dais and went to the tall man. Taking the ring off his finger he had Uvuo translate through Lurgsh, "If any harm comes to this, you will die a thousand times." The stranger nodded grimly and gripped the band with the tongs and gently set it in the fire. The Elf did not know if this had markings or not but he had rehearsed a story for either case.
For five minutes they watched the ring near the coals and then did see two Dwarvish markings inside the band. He could not read them and doubted these men could either. He gripped it with the tongs and showed them with a grim nod before slowly quenching the ring in the water. When it sizzled, he lost the tong grip and reached his hand into the bucket to get the ring which he handed to the Assured.
As the man started to slip it on Nag Kath said something sharply in Elvish, apologized in the same tongue and told Lurgsh to say, "I am sorry, Assured. The force of Urmthalak rings weaken if worn constantly. Tanisditter said …" he looked at Nag Kath again for clarification and continued, "… for much higher power than you have known it should only be worn at the time of greatest need. It was the custom of men with such rings to wear them on a chain that could be used at an instant." He showed the charm Nag Kath bought in Riavod, conveniently around his neck.
A golden chain was found instantly. The assured was not used to a naked finger but massing hostiles along his northern border made the situation dire. Greater power may be required. Uvuo asked, "Were there any instructions for the kind of spell?"
Lurgsh asked that of the tall man and replied, "Just the spell that the bearer always uses for favor. The Black Speech will take longer. My colleague has still not discovered the nature of the folds."
"Black Speech? Folds?"
"Yes, the way the map bends on itself. Come this way." They walked back to the vestibule and Nag Kath showed how the wrinkled map folded at several angles. One clever combination made the rocks of the mountains grasp as if a fist bearing a ring of shining light.
Nulvanash and the High Visitor looked at each other without speaking. With a wave of his Assured hand, the Lords and guards left the room taking only the map. The other two documents were tests too. Shelturn slipped them in his folio. They all sat at the table and watched the Elf nod ever so slightly.
The Dwarf ring was in his pocket.
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_~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~-_
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That night the Elf used the 'fast' to slip out the window on an errand. He was back within the hour. It was a good thing because red-collar guards woke them before dawn with orders to move. They collected their things and, surprisingly, their weapons from the original room. Saddling the horses, Nag Kath quietly said that anyone who wanted to leave could ride anytime they saw the opening.
A week before, word had reached the High Visitor that the blasphemer Hurm Rydovosh had moved forces to the east, away from Ûniarra Nûrn. That was supposedly because the equally contemptible Rhorzah had massed troops on Rydovosh's eastern border after a simmering disagreement over a matter beneath the Assured's dignity. The spy left as soon as he knew and it was possible that Rhorzah had already forded some cavalry.
When the two Visitors saw the mountain fist grasping the ring, they knew their time had come. The scholars would ride with the strike force if more answers were needed. Nulvanash spent his night awake. Not wearing his ring was uncomfortable. He did grip it in his hand much of the time and still felt its power. So much blood. So much toil. So many traitors. Sauron must have had similar moments of doubt.
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Another reason the Assured was sweating was that eight days before, his entire infantry, almost a thousand men, left a hundred of their number lighting fires and making noise along the river. Another hundred were left in the city to guard the Assured's gold. The rest were force-marched up the Assured's side of the Nargil. They would pick their way through the mountain crags to drop in on Rydovosh's lands from the south where the Nargil tributaries could be forded by foot-soldiers. All three hundred eighty of Nulvanash's cavalry would use the same ford as the stealth raid did last time, about two-thirds up the Nargil. Pushing hard they should reach the rocks in four days to join the infantry in the foothills. The foot-soldiers were three days upriver when tidings of Aômul's crossing arrived. They had stripped their northern defenses wagering that after seizing whatever was in that cave they could come back and deal with the lowly Hurms.
One hundred sixty of the cavalry were red-collared Visitors. One might assume they were the elite troops but they weren't hardened warriors. All had imagined their Lord's victory in glory. Young and ruthless, they were roundly despised by the working soldiery, even if no one dared say so. Sixty Visitors were the Assured's bodyguard and the rest rode ahead or behind. There were Ghoranduls with the infantry too, much like the man Nag Kath questioned on the Celduin. They were spies and motivators with the top man annoying the general nominally in charge. There wasn't much either could do about it since Nulvanash purposely played them against each other. Only a few in either column knew the destination.
The cavalry made it to the ford at dusk of the third day, camping without fires to cross at first light for the sprint up the hill in enemy territory. Anandogh, the Captain who had felt the power and came back with his Lord, was one of the men in charge of getting the horses across the river. He scornfully glanced at the eastern scholars as he walked by. With him was a young aide listening for orders. He reminded Nag Kath of the delicate woman who hoped her son might be spared. With the summer river flow, horses made it across in good order, though two dozen were caught in the current and straggled in late. That would have been the best place for any of the scholars to drift from pursuit but their horses were tied to four of the larger Visitors.
Four hundred horses can't make time like a dozen. They get in each other's way. It takes a long time to drink at little streams. Few had been conditioned for distance. Darkness fell before the army reached the foothills of the Nargil Pass. After a hard day's ride, Nulvanash planned to camp at the cliffs and proclaim himself Lord of All. He would have to wait for the sun or take his chances on loose shale. His infantry was camped seven miles south on this side of the river having already forded the small streams. There was no place to put them out of view. General Yshok was here in the Assured's camp and would return to his men at first light to follow the river down and set positions as the perimeter defense when the cavalry reached the rocks about mid-day.
Most of Rydovosh's army and cavalry plus a hundred thirty horse on loan from Rhorzah were biding their time five miles to the east. In the dash for the mountains, the Assured hadn't sent flanking scouts to survey the gullies more than a mile from the main force. The Hurm's scouts in the mountains were relaying signals. Rydovosh was to wait until the fat man puffed his way up those crags before coming into view.
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Nag Kath wrapped his arms around his knees and smelled the air. Later that evening he paid a courtesy call to the infantry General's tent after visiting the Richtrens' horses. As the sun peeked over the ridge, Uvuo and a dozen of his trolls came by the scholars' bedrolls. Any pretense of graciousness was gone. They were prisoners to answer questions and they would fight for their lives if attacked because either side would slay them just as happily.
The High Visitor growled, "Now, what of the Black Speech?"
Shelturn hoped to kill this one himself. In the famous stories, the hero always slew the villain and the officers destroyed their opposite numbers in fair combat. With this one; a knife in back would be fine. Lurgsh said to Nag Kath, "He wants to know about the Black Speech."
The tall northern scholar looked terrified and started to whimper that he was not a war-master, he was a man of words and thoughts. One of the Visitors slapped him across the face to silence his womanish fussing. Shelturn walked over to the bleeding Dúnedain and made things clear, "Sorry, lad. Tell the man."
The braided-one could not compose himself. The jumbled translation was that knowing those words would be a terrible thing. The red-collar stepped in for another punch when the tall creature broke down and cried, "It must be said, 'Dooshs nucht halamn viell.'
The High Visitor asked softly, "What does it mean?"
The scholar was crying and babbling. The red-collar threatened and the tall man raised his arms to protect himself howling, "I do not know! It must be said to enter. But it must not be said else light will fail and the dark lord is risen!"
Lurgsh explained. Uvuo said firmly, "Repeat that!" The cowardly Dúnedain took Uvuo and one of the guards through the spell several times until they would not forget. When the Visitors tramped up to Nulvanash's tent, the other scholars comforted the poor fellow.
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_~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~-_
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The cavalry rode the horses too hard for three hours to reach the base of the cliffs. There was no sign of the infantry but it was still early. The Assured could not wait and removed his armor. He was not in shape to haul twenty five pounds of steel up that mountain. It would take him at least an hour traveling light. Thirty of his men under Anandogh accompanied him, stationing groups of three as rear guards along the way.
Rydovash pulled his troops up to the ridge just east of the horizon. They crested the hill as Nulvanash had almost reached the warded cave. The Assured tried to get in and was repulsed, forgetting for a moment that his ring was on the chain. One of the Visitor guards shouted that enemy forces were attacking. The Assured scampered to the edge of the crag and realized he had to get in and seize power now. The guard with Uvuo who had memorized the chant repeated it. Nulvanash tore the gold chain from his neck and put the ring on his finger frantically chanting, "Dooshs nucht halamn viell!"
Nag Kath had not had much luck with Nenwûla of the Viersh's binding plants. The only one that could be combined with sorcery was the local equivalent of the horse-purge pugas root. That powder was slipped into the officers' paddock on his late night visit to the general. What little sorcery he was able to embed in the former Florin ring was released and sixty constipated horses suddenly bolted and loudly relieved themselves. The infantry was still nowhere to be seen.
As the Nargil horsemen bore down on the dismounted and unformed cavalry of the Assured, Nulvanash threw himself against the ward Nag Kath created. The weakened spell broke and the man burst into the cave to find the Dwarf charm in plain view. Grasping the undeniable talisman of Khamûl's power he screamed from the ledge; 'Dooshs nucht halamn viell', which only made the horses buck the officers off and void themselves again.
Regular cavalry was able to mount but there was no organized charge at Ryduvosh's troops. The Hurm had his neighbor Rhorzah's 111 riders plus sixty of his own. More importantly, he archers already in position for the Nulvanash's horsemen on both wings. They started lobbing arrows into the unarmored Visitors after they were well within range, having been told not to expect foot-soldiers from the left flank.
When the first wave was scattered, Rydovosh sent in his lancers with orders not to hurt the horses if they could avoid it. Troopers still chasing flatulent horses saw the extent of the slaughter. The few who could swim tried their luck in the frigid Nargil. The rest grabbed the nearest weapon and joined the fray much too late. The scholars mostly made a point of not being targets as arrow fire was concentrated on the front lines.
Nulvanash watched from the ledge howling in rage and fear. With the extent of the disaster obvious, Anandogh shoved the hysterical Assured down the cliff.
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Not a single Visitor survived, though many tried to surrender. Stripping their red-collared tunics did not help. Men in shirts were slain begging. Uvuo was stabbed between the fifth and sixth ribs after the first arrow fell, too quick an end, some thought. About half of the regular cavalrymen were allowed to yield. Five miles up the hill, General Yshok seemed in a trance, sure to his imminent dying day that the Assured himself told him to hold their positions. Without food or prospects, the soldiers trickled down the mountain over the next week and were generally treated better than they deserved in exchange for denouncing the Ghoranduls among them.
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Four bloodied scholars wandered towards the victorious forces and bowed before Hurm Rydovosh. The Elf said, "I hope you like your new horses." Idgshtok translated and the Hurm grinned. He asked his trooper, "Aômul has the far bank?" Hurms Aômul and Rhorzah had been promised some of the Visitor's gold.
"As we speak, My Lord. Two hundred Yvsuldor infantry hold the city along the Lisurrant trying to look like more. They are his worst troops."
The Hurm gravely asked the Elf, "My sister and her son?"
"Staying with your friends."
"Tomorrow we will ride north to secure the Yvsuldor stronghold." He needed to make for the capital since Aômul might take the opportunity to seize the defenseless city and Rhorzah's cavalry wanted to collect their geld. Rydovosh's losses were light. His horses were replaced in greater numbers. There was no celebrating or ale, just the screaming of men who would walk or die. His Horsemen crossed at the lower, safer ford into Ûniarra Nûrn while the infantry took the prisoners to the river mouth waiting for the lone ferry to the west. Not many of the regular army tried to escape. There was nowhere to go and if they hadn't been killed already, the chances were good their lives would improve with the change in Hurms.
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_~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~-_
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Idgshtok was allowed to return to the east for services rendered. Fortunately, no one ate the donkey so she got the Lembas bags and as much fodder as she could carry. The Hurm fared the conquerors well as they boarded the ferry across the Lizzurant. Deserters did eat the ferry horse so Shelturn showed one of Rydovosh's men how to wind the winch with a captured mount. It took two hours to cross but they lived.
Once there, Hurm Aômul greeted them more warmly than the last time and insisted on giving the rankest dinner any but Nag Kath could remember. It might have been worse but their host proudly claimed that for their honored guests, the meal included none of the sucker-fish that never lost the tainted smell of the Nûrnen.
In the morning it was time to go. Nag Kath wished his scholars the best of lives and hoped one day they would celebrate with good wine and stories. The bond would last the rest of their lives. Waving goodbye, Shelturn turned and shouted, "Nag Kath; 'Dooshs nucht halamn viell?'
"Your Lord relieves you!"
There was still use for the Black Speech.
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_~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~-_
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The scholars still had a dangerous ride ahead but it was a jaunt compared to the Elf's chosen path. He could have returned with them, been feted and perhaps court the lady fair, but there was still a job to do. The Elf nudged Charlo along the west bank of the Maegond and made for the Plain of Gorgoroth. As Gandalf said; 'as the Nazgûl flies' it lay across a hundred leagues of the foulest land on earth. And the Nazgûl had flown it many times. The jenny, now named Rosas, carried fodder and gureeq grain along with two mostly empty water sacks on either side. Charlo had water too along with Nag Kath's few clothes, satchel and him.
Five days upriver he reached the confluence of the tributaries; one flowing from the mountain spur of the upper Ered and his path towards a finger of the Ephel Duath range. This was the orc road of men's tears. It hugged the lee of the western mountains. Three days later, the path veered northwest away from the spur which was when he was told to fill the water bags. Rosas slowed but did not complain. The grade rose gently and he did not push her the way every owner before him had. There was water trickling down the north slope of the spur for another couple days so they drank whenever they could and refreshed the bags.
Trees had not found their way to this blasted land, though he could see some in the far mountains below year-round snow. There were no people, no animals and few plants. Those were edible so he let the beasts nibble to supplement the dry food. Fifteen days after the battle, the road turned north. This close to the mountains it was not as hot as it had been in all-day sun. To the right of the road were vast tracts of thorn bushes. Once or twice he saw birds flitting among them looking for bugs.
And there were bones; bones of men, orcs, fell draft animals used to haul grain for thousands of years, bones bleached white in the rainless gravel. Every story ended badly. That was why this trip was so important. A week later they were halfway up the western edge of the plateau. For the first time in five days there was a stream bravely fighting its way from the foothills to the flats. It tested clean. Rosas saw her first Kath Bath but withheld comment. They had to cross quite a few of them in the next two days.
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_~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~-_
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Nag Kath hadn't broken camp two hours before when he felt the hair on his neck stand up. He was being followed, from a considerable distance, but there was someone there. He kept his pace steady. Cresting a ridge, he dropped the reins and scrambled-up a cliff overlooking the path. There it was; a hint of motion sneaking from rock to rise and then half a head poking up to check his next stop.
It was an orc, or, at least, mostly an orc. If it was a horse-eating orc, pickings had been slim for a long while. The smell of him would startle the animals but the wind was coming from the west. The hunter knew that. Nag Kath moved the beasts over the next little rise and secured them against a scare before running back to his original vantage point.
The creature would rise up more like a man than a soldier orc on his back legs. He was dressed in rags with no armor and carried a short curved sword. The stalker peered around Nag Kath's rise but did not see him hiding above so he capered into the bowl beneath.
The Elf said in the Black Speech, "So, think you to eat my donkey?"
The orc startled and looked from side to side but not up. He didn't run away. Nag Kath slid down the sand from his loft and repeated his question. As the orc raised his sword the Elf ordered, "Drop that or die." The creature let it fall and stared. Nag Kath asked, "What are you?"
"Ghougash, Brou Kath." Another orc six.
Tallazh once told him that southern orcish was much simpler than the Black Speech but that orcs often had a smattering of Westron. Nag Kath asked, "Do you speak the common-tongue?"
"Some."
In Westron; "Are you hungry?"
The creature looked at him as if trying to understand how this was going. With the bow the tall one could easily have killed him from far away. "Hungry, hauk."
The Elf said, "Wait here." When he returned with some Lembas, the orc was still standing there. Nag Kath tossed him a large piece. The creature first nibbled and then could not stuff his face fast enough. The changeling wondered if the orc could eat the bread of the fair. His crude version was gone in moments. Barely taking his eyes from his captor, the orc went to a rivulet in the rocks and had a long drink. Lembas makes you thirsty. Nag Kath told him to sit and then sat about twenty feet away. Settled, he asked, "You fought for Sauron, yes?"
"Hauk."
"How did you live?"
"Live, all die. Only me." Oh, did that sound familiar.
Nag Kath recalled the famed pity of Bilbo and Frodo in his turn. The war had been over for thirty five years. Here was this creature wandering the wastes of Mordor in penance for the army that died at the Black Gate.
"Do you want to live like this?" He had to remind himself that as a former orc, he couldn't answer that either. "Do you want to be free?"
"Hughhm."
Nag Kath changed to the Black Speech, "I may be able to make you not be orc. You may die. It will hurt."
The orc said quickly, "Do."
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This was an experimental spell. Gandalf had dragged the remaining orc out of him in a minute, though it took the now-Elf three days to recover. He might kill the beast. He might butcher the spell and make it worse. It looked like the creature was already turning from orcish form but he would die of old age well before he got there. Out of hundreds of thousands of orcs who were directly tied to Sauron, two lived. And they were both sitting here.
Nag Kath stood and sent a spell as close as he could remember being hit with in Orthanc. The orc doubled on his side, screaming in pain. He writhed and tried to reach his sword but there he had no control of his muscles and simply groaned and twitched for several hours. Faint black and green mist leaked from his pores for the first quarter-bell.
When he mercifully stopped moving, Nag Kath went back to his confused animals for a towel and a blanket. There was no wood for a fire so he just covered his patient and stayed there, occasionally dribbling water into its mouth.
Day by day, the orc started looking more like a man. On the third day, Nag Kath used his healer's nips to cut tin staples out of a gash that ran from the creature's forehead down his nose. Orcs squeezed those into serious wounds to stop bleeding. Since infections wouldn't kill them, they could live with the scar. On the morning of the sixth day, he was a man about the size of the men of Mordor with a bald head and that disfiguring scar running down the front of his face. A quick check showed he was male.
Ghougash woke quite gently that afternoon. Raising on his elbows he looked around to get his focus and saw Nag Kath waiting patiently. The man jerked up to sitting position and reached for his sword but it had been hidden a few yards away. Nag Kath asked, "How do you feel?"
The former orc felt around his various parts and ran his hands over his face. Then he spit loudly and staggered over to the wet rocks for a long drink. Still disoriented he walked back to his dent in the dirt and sat again. "What you do?"
"I turned you into a man."
"Men are enemy."
"They are all that is left. Now you go live with them."
"They will kill me."
"They might, but not because you are an orc. Come with me."
They walked over to Charlo and Rosas who still smelled orc and were nervous but didn't panic. Nag Kath took a half-dozen Lembas cakes out of his pack and some coins. He approached the new man carefully and handed him the food. "Do you know what money is?"
"Hauk."
"Hold out your hand."
Ghougash did and the Elf dropped a small load of coins in his palm. "That is a lot of money. You can buy ten horses with that much. Do you understand?"
"Nuch."
Nag Kath explained as well as he could what each of the various coins would buy ranging from groats to a nipper. "Take them to the Nûrnen and live. You will be a man now."
Orcs can smile. This one did. The bloodlines used to create him must have been of men and he would be middle-aged and ugly. But he would be a man and could learn to live with men until he died like one. Nag Kath ripped the cuffs and hems off his bloody clothes and sent Ghougash on his way after retrieving the sword. He hoped he would make it. He hoped everyone would.
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_~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~-_
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It was another week to Orodruin. The landscape never changed. There were fewer streams on the plateau and he was glad of the water bags when they got out of the mountain shadow. What a terrible place! Even a generation and a half after the explosion that rocked the world, sulfurous gasses still fumed from the pocked earth. Nag Kath imagined Frodo and Sam grinding their way up this benighted rock when it was much taller than now. The animals were ill at ease. Rosas tried to flee once but she was tied to Charlo and he was much larger.
The mountain had cooled. After hobbling the animals together, it took the changeling all day to climb blasted cliffs. A pool of molten rock might still be hot enough. Nag Kath took the ring from his pocket and looked at it for the longest time. It called to him, seducing him. He should keep it. Wear it now! He should not waste this chance to increase his power.
Even in his palm, he felt possession seeping into his flesh. A man would have been torn asunder with doubt and greed. Significantly, the changeling now knew the color of the dark lord; a sickly green. His hand glowed the same as the ring - perhaps the Huntsman's gift made manifest. Looking up, the Evenstar was coming into view – tacit confirmation that enemies of Sauron still watched over this earth. The Elf tossed the ring into the reddest lava forty feet below, waiting for it to melt. Then he heaved several five-pound rocks down until one splatted on top to spread the gold.
Gimli might never forgive him, but he would understand.
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This ends Book Two of Nag Kath