Star Wars: Arda Unleashed

by Lord Exar Kun

After the Arda Campaign ended in victory for the Republic and their local allies, the galaxy's eyes returned to the wider Clone Wars. However, the Dark Lord Sauron has yet to be vanquished. Now he has come to the wider galaxy free from the binds of Arda, and is ready to be unleashed upon the stars. As the Chosen One's fate, the Republic's and the Jedi Order's remains to be seen.

19. Disloyalty with Vengeance

Chapter 19

Disloyalty with Vengeance

"Forgive me if I appear skeptical of your claim, my Lord." Palpatine carried on and followed the possessed woman's body back to the heart of the lounge. "I've known beings, sentients who have spent entire lifetimes searching for the path to immortality. And, in a way perhaps one had reached a measure of success. However," Palpatine gave a faint smile and held a whimsical glint to his eyes. "They paid for it with their life. Ironically."

"The search for immortality, it would seem, transcends worlds." Sauron gave simple reply as he used the Force to set aside the central table between the sofas in the lounge. "I too have known one too many man and creature that fears death. Even the elves fear it. Though they experience death but for a time. Cleansed and renewed. Released back as themselves into the waking world. Though, all who do not understand where Men go in their deaths fear it. Especially the Men themselves." Palpatine cocked curious brow as he rounded the sofas. Planting his hands behind his back and clasping them.

"These 'elves' as you call them, and as have been reported to me...they are inherently immortal?"

"Immortal, but not invulnerable in flesh. Nor spirit for that matter." Sauron scoffed with the snort of the feminine voice of the witch he wore. "They were and are blessed with long life. Long life so long as the world remain. They are bound to it, and in their binding they make that which they touch beautiful. Beyond the compare of Man. Or, Dwarf for that matter."

"Fascinating." Palpatine intoned. Though his mind fluttered to the notion of a species inherently immortal. Of course he did not fully comprehend everything Sauron meant. Bindings to the world and so on. Local tales, and myths or whatever have you. But, Anakin and Kenobi had made as much clear in their own reports. These beings, this species of elves were immortal in body.

"Though, that does bring up a good point."

"That being?" Sauron wondered.

"You say you've dealt with those seeking immortality before?"

"Correct."

"Then I think it's safe to assume you were not quite so forthcoming with the path to immortality with them." A statement, and not a question, so it sounded. Sauron faintly loosed a chuckling breath from the nostrils of the woman and motioned his hand out dismissively.

"Kings; kings of men who rule kingdoms with little comparison upon all of Arda in the days it stood tall. Kings who assume to be your superior and who raise their status up to that of those they do not understand." Sauron carried on. A sort of mockery in his voice. "Yes I've had such men ask me to help them become immortal. They don't truly know what it is they're asking for, and though I could help them I often times see no reason to."

"A matter of hurt pride then, is it?" Palpatine prodded with a smirk. "Or, do you simply not like these men? These so called kings?"

"A bit of both I think, Sidious." Again, Palpatine was made to chuckle. Finding it quaint every time his Sith moniker was spoken so freely by this creature.

"Then what am I to believe? Again, to my initial point." Palpatine sat himself back into the lounge seat he had occupied before. "To imagine one such as you would share such knowledge with me is not exactly logical. You would not so readily gift me knowledge that could be used to my advantage. Unless of course you had something to gain from it?" Palpatine supposed and gave pointed finger in Sauron's direction.

"You wish to learn my ways, do you not?" Sauron retorted. "The agreement made was you would learn that which I can teach, and I gain access to the knowledge of your books, 'vids' and 'disks.' As you noted I have taken advantage of your hospitality. I suppose it is time I repaid some of what is due. In part."

"So forthcoming!" Palpatine derided and chuckled. Sauron hinting a shrug as he returned to his own seat. Opposite of the Chancellor.

"Perhaps." Sauron intoned. "Firstly, we should prepare your mind for any potential duels with one such as myself. That is more pressing than the continued cosmic fears of mortal flesh."

"Indeed." Palpatine agreed. "Though I must admit I am intrigued by the notion of eternal life. You claim you retain it in some spiritual manner?"

"I have lived as you mortals would see it for many thousands of years and beyond the count of Men in places beyond the World. Mortal existence is not the same as that of a maia or vala. The elves are forever connected to the waking world. Their being wrapped into the existence of Arda...as far as I now understand it." Sauron paused. Palpatine watching the expression Sauron wore turn thoughtful and glaring for a moment. Eyes narrowing and distant, but quickly hidden once more from Palpatine's prying gaze.

"Regardless," Sauron waved one of the witch's hands. "The elves are immortal, so long as their world remains. So long as they have halls to return to and doors to step out from once their spiritual cleansing are completed. Dwarves...I do not know for sure, but I do believe Aulë has made them halls all their own."

"What?" Palpatine creased his brow. To which Sauron again waved him off.

"It is of little concern to you, Sidious." Again, using his Sith moniker? Palpatine now held the sneaking suspicion Sauron used it as some form of insult. It still made him smirk all the same.

"Men, now none among my race know where Men go. When your species die they have no halls to return to. Though many among my race and that of elves have come to the conclusion, or some would claim realization, that there lay a greater place for Men. A place among Eru. Another name that holds no worth nor concern in your mind." Well at least Sauron preempted any question that time.

"Your race, your species, whatever you want to call it. Men fade. They go from the World entire and none know where. Though, as I've said, some have made guesses. What I do know, however, is that many Men do not wish to leave the World. They do not want to go off into whatever plain has been prepared for them. So many dreams and desires unrealized. Lusts unfulfilled, and ambitions not yet satisfied. In this way I understand why many have come to me seeking some means to resist the call of age and death. You may sit there and pretend you do not fear death, Sidious." Sauron went on pointedly. "You may act as though the inevitability of death does not strike a primal terror into your very being. That you may use this Force to stave off death with age or accident as long as you can, but all Men everywhere fear it. Those who do not are either fools or deluded. Or, more likely, they have not a reason to remain among the living? Destitute, without land and power and worth or meaning. But, the Men of power? Of renown and names that carry significance? Those who hold power over others and will have their faces etched into the minds of those with a disposition towards memory and history? Why should they not wish to live forevermore?" Sauron paused. The orange flaming orbs remained fixed and near accusatory in manner upon Palpatine.

For his part, the Supreme Chancellor sucked in a breath of air through his nostrils. Giving a faint shrug of his shoulders and remained as unfazed as he could, and he knew he was more than capable of such easy bodily projection. He would not have been as successful a Republic Senator or politician were he so easy to read. Within the Force he also wrapped himself in many layers of confusion and protection. What he did not hide within his own heart, and the depths of his own mind, at least from himself, was the truth. Of course he would love nothing more than to be eternal! Plagueis for all his foolishness had not failed to impart the wonder of eternal life. Sith of old, namely Darth Vitiate were thought to have lived very long. Some records claim the ancient Sith Emperor had indeed found a means to immortality. Such things made Sidious yearn for the assurance of his perpetual existence. Though he had already begun to discover the means to which. In his own way of course. The unusually serene, and nascent darkness burgeoning within the world of Byss came to mind. The facilities there, and what they would soon begin working on at his direction.

"What can I say?" Palpatine began after the long pause, and a motion of his hands. "Perhaps the pathway to immortality ends up costing one their life in the journey? What then would be the point? If one were to...learn the deeper mysteries of the Force. All to figure out how they may live forever. just to be killed? Perhaps by one they trusted for no reason other than their own arrogance." Palpatine smiled.

"I see." Sauron simply replied. Leaning back into the seat he occupied. "Cautious with reason then? Rare indeed for your race, Sidious. Very well." Sauron hummed thoughtfully. "Then perhaps I offer you but one piece of advice?"

"And what would that be, Lord Sauron?"

"If you cannot trust in another to aid in seeking immortality. Or, if you require time to come to the inevitable point of desperation; clinging onto life as death's touch grasps your bony cold shoulders, then perhaps you should use those three powers you hold to find the path?"

"Three powers?" Palpatine repeated. "What would these 'three powers' be?"

"The Force is the most obvious I should think. Another would be these." Sauron called upon the Force and a holobook on the moved table flew into the witch's hand. "The sciences you and those around you have access to are immeasurable in their possibilities. Given such access to knowledge even the most destitute peasant could come to make himself a god among his fellow man. I am sure that the Force and these sciences could bare much fruit in the pathway towards longer, if not perpetual life."

"Perhaps, Sauron. Though you had mentioned three powers. What would be the third?"

"Ah," Sauron smirked and placed the holobook down on the cushion beside himself. "That would be what we learn here today. Or, rather what you learn, Sidious." The Dark Lord carried on. "If you will not learn the secrets of immortality as I bring them so willingly to you then perhaps what 'Magic;' as your kind calls it, perhaps that in tandem with the other two can be of some use to you? That is, if you are capable enough to use all three." Sauron offered. To which Palpatine hummed thoughtfully and reclined back into his seat now.

"I may very well." Palpatine intoned. "Though that would depend on the nature of what I am taught. Not only today but beyond, no?"

"That it would." Sauron again smiled. Again, an off putting thing though Palpatine made no show of it. "Let us now strengthen your spirit against the power of a maia. If you face Mithrandir in spirit or even in person it will be of great use to you. Should you know how to use what I teach of course."

"Of course." Palpatine agreed. Himself sporting a smile, as they began their session, and Coruscant dimmed towards the coming night.

---

The Council was done talking. At least for that moment. Grievous hit the playback button once again and Nute Gunray began spouting off his hatred of him. Grievous felt his body shake. All the metallic bits and pieces, the plating and the organ sack. All thrumming and shaking in the disquiet of his own rage. Yellow eyes narrowed into tiny thin black lines. What flesh lay hidden behind metal shielding that was his head creased and crackled in pain.

"Who do they think they are?!" He slammed a fist into the console. A crashing sound emanated and sparks flew. The nearby magnaguards didn't flinch. They were long used to the tirades of their master.

"Expendable?! They think I'm expendable?!" He howled in the loneliness of the small office he took as his own. "Me?! Who has defeated Jedi time and again?! Who has laid waste to entire worlds? Entire systems!" The General whirled around, his cloak thrashing in the air as he did so. He stomped metallic clawed talon upon the floor and circled around to a familiar viewport. Looking out over the bustle of droids patrolling or manning guard posts and computer consoles. Their words...he did not ever before imagine most of them trusted him let alone 'liked' him. Yet, never had Grievous been so infuriated by the blatancy of how they spoke of him! As though he was without use! As though without Dooku he was nothing and could not lead the Confederacy to ultimate victory! As though he was nothing but a droid! Even Hill, that muun son of a kath hound! He among all of them should know better! And, even though Grievous did not want to fully admit it, Hill had seemed the most on his side. Yet, even that had been tacit and limp compared to the uncaring, the barrage of apathy that spewed in rebuke to Gunray's disdain. Nothing short of treason!

Why Lord Sidious wanted or needed these fools he did not know. Why Lord Sidious let them operate in the galaxy now that they had their armies and their assets he couldn't understand! All he would need is their foundries, and their credits. They had both. Certainly Lord Sidious did. Given an endless army where the Republic's was finite, Grievous knew all that was required was time. Time enough to whittle the Jedi to but a number. Until the herd had been so thinned as to make them an endangered species!

"Why?!" Grievous growled. Both hands balling to fists. Shaking in his abundance of rage! "Why had the attack failed?!" He intoned with no less fury. His mind once again fluttering to what had just happened days prior. As he had thought upon the deck of the Phantom Fist so he thought again now. And, had several times since. Everything had begun so well, and had gone so well. He, not Dooku, not any of those sagging bags of desiccated flesh and bones on the Council, but HE had captured the Supreme Chancellor! He had executed the attack on Coruscant to perfection. Catching them off guard to the point entire fleets were recalled from key locations and battles. To the point the Republic had to show their hand and unveil their newest titanic warship. A ship that he battered with his fleet!

Grievous, not Dooku, not Sidious even, but he had murdered no less than four miserable Jedi! He had brought Palpatine aboard and handed him as a prize to Dooku. Just for Dooku to lose him! There was little point in pretending otherwise! Be his mentor and be his ally or not it had been Dooku's failing and not his! Skywalker and Kenobi came and all fell apart. How?!

"HOW?!" They were two Jedi, two human men! Nothing more! They captured Dooku, they released Palpatine. They had not killed him, they had not captured him! Yet, HE was expendable to the Council?! He was expendable?!

"There are strings everywhere, and puppets being played with them. You are currently one of them, and so too are the Council. Both of the factions don't realize it yet, but they're woefully unaware of how easily toppled they both can be." The words of the unknown being entered his mind once again. Grievous had thought of them before. Had resisted their venom and poison. The voice said it, itself! The Council were pawns...but so was he?

"No!" He determined and crossed his arms over bony metal chest. "I am no pawn. I…" A dejarik board suddenly flashed in his mind. Why had it? He wasn't some useless holographic beast used as a toy in some wider game! He wasn't to be used. Who would even hope to use him? He, Grievous, he alone had joined the Separatists after what the Republic and Jedi had done, and so much more for what they had not done! For Kalee...and what had been lost upon it. More lost than he could remember anymore. The bombing had...taken much of himself. Yet, he couldn't remember some faces anymore. Couldn't remember when certain events had happened. He couldn't remember when he was dragged from the wreck of the shuttle and kept alive in the tank by Hill.

Grievous groaned a throaty sound. So many questions and thoughts cascaded through his mind like a deep waterfall in the jungles of Kalee. Memories, and hatreds filled him, flashing before him. Determining how many times his hands balled into fists. Why had he said no the first time he had been asked to join the Separatist cause? He couldn't remember that either. Grievous couldn't remember what had been said to make him say no. Then the Jedi and Republic bombed him...because he had said no?

No, they had bombed him because he may have said yes! It was strange that the Jedi were so blatant. It made his head hurt! His eyes shut and Grievous felt anger shoot through his core again! As though he had adrenal glands as something shot through the shell of his skeletal body that made him feel the need to pounce onto and maul something to flesh and bones!

Why was he so angry all the time?!

"DAMN IT!" The General swung his right fist into the wall, and the metal groaned and feebly retreated under his knuckles, and then the gagging coughs hit, and hard! Spasming, sputtering gagging and yearning for a phantom breath that did not come, Grievous fell onto one knee. The magnaguards still did not approach. They knew better then to. Grievous was alone. Has been for a long time. It angered him. The only one he could talk to was Dooku, and that fool had gotten himself captured. Sidious now tossed him aside for a new apprentice.

His eyes opened. "Tossed him aside?" Grievous wheezed and gave a lurching and bellowing final cough. The General looked to the holocomm console. Feeling as though he was doing something wrong as he did so. As though it was taboo. Thoughts fluttered through him. As the anger abated and as assuredly as it would return to him with time. Something was happening to his thoughts. Something was happening to his mind, to his feelings. It was not unnatural. There were questions haunting him now. They had been beneath the surface and he had been a good soldier and ignored them, but they were there damn it! Why should he wonder to his place? To his purpose or past? He was the Supreme Commander of the Droid Armies! He was for all intents and purposes, by all security measure and authority the leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems! Was he not owed respect? Was he...could he be expendable?

He is the authority...Grievous for all intents and purposes was the head. The body now responded to him…

He slammed his talons to the holocomm console and keyed in a connection signal. The console beeped as he made the call for a moment before a droid came into view.

"Yes General?" The robotic trill of an OOM series intelligence droid spoke. The figure of which stood large before Grievous.

"With Count Dooku captured, droid, I have assumed all powers and authority he once held, correct?"

"Correct General, as per his instructions via emergency measure." Came the quick and equally flat reply. All droids and all units within the CIS knew this by now. Grievous had no reason to have it confirmed but he had felt compelled to ask...it bothered him that he had.

"You will collect all data pertaining to a bombing that occurred on Kalee three...four? Or was it five years…" Suddenly Grievous felt angry again and his head hurt! Why did it hurt so much, why was he so angry?! He howled and both hands gripped his head, and the OOM droid recoiled but did not speak. Neither did the magnaguards come near.

"The Martyr!" Grievous reeled back up and announced. "I want all information, everything the Confederacy and all our apparatus has on the bombing of the shuttle Martyr on Kalee!" Grievous felt himself shaking and so angry. The anger ravaged his core. He wanted to break something, but he needed to get this call done. He needed to!

"All information, all information on the rebuilding of Qymaen jai Sheelal into Grievous!"

"Yes sir, General sir!" The droid didn't bat an photoreceptor at the fact the General had referred to himself in the third person. It didn't matter for such simplistic, and happily indentured droids.

"I want it all within the next few hours, no holdups! If anyone, anyone at all holds you up you will report their names to me no matter whom! Am I understood?!" Grievous shook as he growled and felt his head spin through the unleashing of rage.

"Yes, General sir!" The droid sloppily saluted, and Grievous cut the feed. Where in an instant he unleashed a torrent of coughs that ripped through his body. Then he screamed at the top of his quaking lungs as he slammed his fists into the floor! Bashing one after the other shaking the room and creating dents within the broken dents of the metal walkway! He was sure anyone nearby his office could hear his fury being loosed, but he didn't care anymore! Not in this moment! Everything, everything; from the squalor of Kalee, the service to Hill, the bombing, the Jedi, the war, the Battle of Coruscant, all of it was suddenly rupturing from his mind! Grievous was sure his eyes may have appeared crazed, but he didn't karking care! He would ask questions never asked, he would know for sure he was no pawn and he would prove it to none but himself, for that was all that he knew mattered! And, as such, this floor, and the audioreceptors of his magnaguards would suffer him now.

---

Taruk sighed and leaned back in his seat. The doorway heading out into the upper levels of Minas Tirith stood ajar allowing for the sounds of these...quaint common folk to bleed into the stonework he called his office on Arda. His eyes glanced down at the document received via holo-transmission from the Diplomatic Service.

"Official extension of my liaison service. Within this option for renewal. Great!" He cheered, and feigned toasting the air with a sardonic laugh. "Oh, my Lady Sipillona...you certainly know how to pull strings. I'd prefer a rope. Hopefully around my karking neck!" Truly Taruk hadn't imagined this job would be this hard. Nor this...intricate. Disloyal lords, an obstinate petty king, the always happy political aftermath of a war, and a pantoran tart breathing down his neck. Originally he had just thought he would come along, play nice with Elessar, make a deal, 'ingratiate' the people of this world into how the galaxy works. Trade and all that, and be on his way back to Coruscant! Or kriff at least to a world that believed in more adequate plumbing at the very least.

But, no. Instead he was here playing king-maker. Playing cloak and dagger. This was more a thing for Republic Intelligence really. Oh he wasn't naive. He knew more often than not the Diplomatic Service and Intelligence had to play their games together in many cases. How else did the Republic avert civil wars on worlds important to trade, commerce and hyperspace routes? How else did the Republic stifle rival quadrants and how else did the Republic keep an eye on those slugs, the Hutts? Of course politics and cloak and dagger go hand in hand, skipping merrily down the Galactic Plaza towards the Senate! He just really wished he had not been made to play a part in it. He preferred the more simple and honest work of the Diplomatic Service. Treaty making, binding contracts, good trade. More profitable for the Republic of course, but to say the natives didn't prosper in some way was just being disingenuous. And compared to some of his colleagues he was damn well a saint! It was all so stuffy, stifling, and tiresome. That and he had grown a bit more habitual with his drinking. Another thing his doctor would get on him for he was sure. So, he was going dry...for today at least.

"Well," Taruk gave heavy sigh and threw his arms out at his sides and back down. "Could be worse! I could be on a border world. Could be one of those idiots who joins the Survey Corps and actually tries to find new worlds in the Unknown Regions! Could well be a captive of the Separatists. Now that'd be fun. Which limb would Grievous cut off I wonder?" He forced another sardonic laugh and tapped his right hand's fingers along his pristine, and obviously imported, durasteel table.

"What have I to do today anyhow?" Taruk wondered lowly and pulled up his personally made itinerary. A list formed, but it was hardly robust. He had to meet with that karking mouthy Steward of the King. Or was he a Chancellor? Taruk was never sure. Seemed like Lord Faramir held both titles. And, the man was troublesome. Taruk wondered how such a man lacking in quality ever rose to his position? He knew of Denethor, the man who had led this kingdom before the return of Elessar, but were Taruk the King he'd have had Faramir sent to the furthest barony he could! All the better to secure control over a recovering state. So, Taruk would think.

"Oh well. What can you do?" He intoned and closed the datapad off. However, as Taruk did so his table began beeping. Well, more specifically the comlink within it began to beep. He eyed the incoming code and rolled his eyes in very improper a fashion.

"Just what I need." Taruk sighed. Rising to a stand he quickly crossed the room, closed the door and activated his sound dampeners before retaking his seat. Clearing his throat, patting away ruffled robe and planting a thin smile to his face. As he pressed the accept key.

"Lady Sipillona! A pleasure to see you again. I had not expected a call from you today." The figure of the young woman came into view in all its blue holographic glory. Buzzing and popping as the relays did their job. She stood as a small statue upon his table, shuffling where she stood back on Coruscant. Probably nice and cozy, unlike him.

"I hadn't any reason to call you until recently, Koll. Any updates on your end since last we spoke?"

"Beyond receiving word that a 'sizable' transport was on its way in the next day or so? None, my Lady. I presume all will be well in order come its arrival."

"Let's hope, Koll." She intoned, and Taruk was surprised by how distant her demeanor seemed. But, he wasn't about to complain. "I've received some pertinent information for our foray into local politics. I want you to investigate the validity of such from where you sit."

"Information?" Taruk furrowed his brow. "Information from where...who?"

"That doesn't really matter, Koll. Nor does it concern you." Well she wasn't entirely distant. Snippy and haughty as ever. "A new partner has entered the field of our little web. They have provided some...evidence that they know what they're talking about concerning the locals. But, before I act on any of it I want you to verify some information for me, and directly report what you hear and find out. Unblemished information whether it's true or not will help me understand if I'm being lied to or not."

"That's…" Taruk began and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "I mean it's certainly doable, my Lady. I just don't know how...this system is cut off where the holonet is concerned. Only some within the military or the Jedi know of its existence."

"I have had the same thoughts Koll." She snapped. "You think me an idiot?"

"N...no, my Lady!" He raised his hands to calm. "I merely want to be cautious. For both our sake's."

"Well at least in that way you're honest." She sneered. Taruk got the distinct impression her mind was elsewhere. She was quick to temper. Very agitated. Though he would guess because she was anxious herself? He couldn't be sure, but he'd put a credit on it in a bet.

"Forgive my impertinence, my Lady." Taruk again plead. "I'll take the information now." Taruk grabbed another datapad and readied it to take notes as Arsuna watched him and her eyes averted once again in some manner of distant thought.

"Good. Now, to verify the eastern lands...Rhûn was it?"

"Yes, my Lady." Taruk nodded.

"You've mentioned before that their Emperor was slain recently, yes?"

"During the last war, well here locally I mean, yes. Somewhere up north, I'm not sure. I think my report had more details?"

"In any case," She waved him off. "What was his name, Koll?"

"Uh…" He trailed off for a minute and closed his eyes. Forcing the memory of the name on the tip of his tongue to release. "U….Un...Úndrathill! That's it." Taruk snapped his fingers. Proud of himself. Though, of course, Arsuna seemed unimpressed.

"Good. That aligns with what I have heard. Now the harder part." She began. "Have you been told who has taken his place on the throne in the east?"

"N...no my Lady. Information coming out from the east is in short supply. As far as I understand it there is nothing but simmering conflict on the horizon between Rhûn and Gondor. That is what Prince Amathir has informed me of, at least."

"So our Prince friend is aware of the eastern happenings?"

"Not entirely, not intricately I would say. Although...hmm." Taruk hummed and pressed his index finger to his cheek, his thumb cupping his chin underneath.

"What?"

"He may not have a deep knowledge, my Lady." Taruk carried on with his nascent thought. "I do remember that the Lady Amdirniel has stated she has contacts in the east."

"Had she?" Clearly Sipillona didn't pay as much attention to his reports as he had imagined. Or, perhaps hoped she did.

"Yes, my Lady." Taruk nodded all the same. "When we met with her she indicated that she had contacts not only in the Harad lands but in the east as well. I think if anyone can help me gather any sort of information it would be her. I mean, if that's what I'm being asked to do as I assume?"

"You assume correctly." Arsuna affirmed. Though Taruk hadn't really needed her to. She had spelled as much out already. "My contact has indicated this Emperor Úndrathill had many children. Perks of an imperial throne." She gave snarkily. "Regardless, of his many sons only three are likely to gain control of the throne. If and only if they have adequate support can any of them hope to achieve quick victory." Arsuna paused and Taruk sighed once again. Reclining as he felt he knew what she implied.

"I'm assuming by 'adequate support' you mean us?" Arsuna in kind chuckled lightly.

"No, dear Koll, by adequate support, I mean you! I'm not involved in any of this, after all."

"Right." Taruk frowned. "Well, whom am I asking information on then, my Lady?"

"As I said, I have three names. My source tells me these three sons are the likeliest to be of some value to this little alliance. I, however, am just going to give you the names. Any information you gather will be compared and contrasted to what I have."

"I take it you don't fully trust this source?"

"Due diligence, Koll. Trust but verify. All of that smart sounding dribble." Taruk thought it was smart. Though the fact there was another source he had not knowledge of made him uneasy.

"Right. The names?" Taruk asked.

"Takughíl, is the first."

"Got it." Taruk jotted down the name...as phonetically as he could anyways.

"Then there are Borgus and the last is Ganghûthil." Again, Taruk wrote the names in a manner he hoped would help remind him how to speak them phonetically. Though it did make him realize it would be a bit...difficult to relay that to Lady Amdirniel.

"You get all that, Koll?"

"Yes, my Lady. I have it right here." Taruk soothed and raised the datapad. "I will ask the Prince to help me get these names to Lady Amdirniel. She'll be able to shine some light for us...me, on these names."

"See that you get what you can." Arsuna simply ordered. "As well, when the precious shiny metals your local friends need for their war arrive do hold onto them as long as possible. I want as much on these names as you can gather before I begin funding any one boma. So to speak." She scoffed a laugh.

"Right, of course my Lady. I'll get right on it."

"Good. And, Koll?"

"Yes?" Taruk replied.

"Another shipment is being commissioned to head your way. I've had to arrange a special crate of precious cargo for Arda. Be sure to speak with nobody about receiving the contents of the crate; for which I will forward its ID markers, with anyone but a Captain Nigel Nivers. He has been properly compensated for his carefully made requisition order."

"Requisition?" Taruk wondered and felt a familiar uneasy tinge tickle along the back of his neck. "Requisition of what?"

"Come on Koll, you're not so new to this you'd imagine I'd say too much just yet?" She mocked him. "When the crate arrives and has its goods we can talk more then. Until such, it's nothing but a few supplies requested by the Diplomatic Corps very own Delegate Taruk Koll, and authorized for shipment through the Survey Corps purview on newly discovered worlds. Got it?"

"I...yes...yes I got it." Taruk nodded and shook his head.

"Excellent. Now, the names Koll. Get on it." And, like that she was gone. The comlink went silent and her hologram disappeared. Leaving Taruk to sit in the quiet of his stonework office.

"Now she's got other sources of intelligence? And, she wants me to simply take whatever nameless, faceless being number one wants us to take at face value?! Is she insane?!" It hurt him that inside he knew he wasn't being fair. She had just ordered him to do the due diligence of the intel.

"Yes, but why me though?! Karking bribes!" Days like today made him really hate that he was a greedy kath hound runt! There was no point in trying to hide it. He had long since come to terms that he was a glutton for 'gifts.' Never had he, nor could he have imagined one too many gifts from the Sipillona family would lead to this.

"That whole Jedi karma whatnot must be true. I'm paying for it every karking day!" Taruk smacked his hand on the table. Though, as a good agent of greater men...or women than he, he reached into his table for some flimsy. He'd need a meeting with Amathir soon, and need a letter sent to Lady Amdirniel as well. Whomever these three men were was what Lady Sipillona wanted to know. So, find out Taruk would. And, the least thought about whatever was in crate number two the better. For all he knew it could be a rancor...hopefully it wasn't a karking rancor.

---

"Gandalf." Obi-Wan called to the old wizard. Gandalf turned from where he sat upon a bench overlooking a circular field of grass. A small stream just beyond that with a waterfall streaming water down into it.

"Obi-Wan, come." Gandalf pat the seat beside himself. "Join an old man."

"You may be old, but more and more I believe you're hardly a 'man,' Gandalf." Obi-Wan chuckled, Gandalf joining him in doing so.

"I hadn't a chance before to ask you what you thought of the temple."

"No? No I suppose not. You and Anakin had disappeared rather abruptly on us."

"We did. Sorry. A Council meeting and...politics." Obi-Wan gave a sardonic and obviously feigned smile.

"Politics?! Now that is a shame." Gandalf chuckled some more. Both of them continuing to stare ahead. The others all mingling with one another. The four elves sitting beside the stream and speaking in lowered voices. On what? Obi-Wan couldn't begin to say nor was he about to use the Force to pry. While the hobbits were laughing, as was their way. Practicing some with their swords though being careful. Even if Obi-Wan knew they were more than capable warriors these days. And, of course there was Gimli. Who...seemed to be napping underneath a tree. Resting his head on a smooth boulder. Obi-Wan smirked. Figuring the boulder more than the tree's shade was what made the dwarf relaxed. That and the meal Anakin had given him before.

"So?" Obi-Wan finally pressed on.

"So." Gandalf smiled. "Well...I would say the temple is beyond a doubt impressive! Everything on this 'planet' is impressive. Surely you know that, Obi-Wan?"

"I would figure. I just don't want to presume to tell you how you feel. Or, should feel."

"You have my thanks for that my friend." Gandalf hummed. "Perhaps it may not seem it, but I am impressed. Astounded even with all that I have seen! Who could not be? But, I was sent to observe more than I was to simply gawk. There are eyes, distant as they may be, that wish to understand that which I can hardly fathom. For countless years of Men I had no clue that there lay a world such as this in the skies beyond Arda. Nor could I dare to think there would be thousands...millions of others!"

"Every world that gets absorbed into the galactic community goes through a similar experience. Some with less care. I certainly hope to avoid such nasty entanglements for Arda, however."

"And for that you have my thanks, and agreement." Gandalf noted. "I have learned much while here in your Jedi Temple. Your Order seems filled with fine men and women, and others I am not quite sure to their designation. Though all seem well-intentioned, regardless."

"Well that is good news." Obi-Wan smiled.

"It is." Gandalf assured. "Though I must say the histories of your Order I will need time to reflect upon."

"I imagine Master Yoda gave you a crash course of sorts?"

"Crash course?"

"Ah," Obi-Wan rubbed the back of his neck. A distinctly Anakin-like tic. "It's a phrase. I mean to say; Yoda gave a brief overview of our Order's history?"

"Oh. Yes, that he had!" Gandalf nodded. "I have heard much. Though a more thorough reading is due. I was given copies of your holobooks for future consumption. Master Yoda was kind enough to have the copies sent to the shuttle for us before we came here."

"Good." Obi-Wan nodded. "Though, I take it by your inflection you have reservations?" Gandalf was silent a moment longer. His eyes turning upwards to gaze upon the carefully fabricated skyline and its clouds or tall cliffs. "Reservations, perhaps?" He finally offered. "What I feel more clearly are not simple reservations towards your Order, Obi-Wan." Gandalf carried on as the two remained looking towards the others. Allowing the gusts of wind fabricated by the vents and the sounds of the nearby fountains and waterfalls to fill their ears.

"There is a sickness here."

"Among the Jedi?" Obi-Wan wondered.

"Within this temple, and on this world. I have felt it. Perhaps it is due in part to the battle that left scars across a surface so vast and teeming with life I could hardly begin to understand? Or, perhaps it is because I do not understand this world and its many peoples in any way, and am foolish to believe I feel what I feel?"

"Yet?" Obi-Wan pressed.

"Yet, there is a sickness. I have felt it before. Not in a way you would be familiar with, but then again, perhaps so? I am not sure. It is the feeling one gets when they enter a meeting hall with men primed for war. Or, when you stand within the clutches of a warg den. The wargs nowhere to be seen but the land strewn in bones." Gandalf painted the image. "It's trepidation and unease. An old thing. Tired, but dark, and I have felt and seen much that is disturbing. War waged on such a scale is not so simple a matter, but neither are the reasons. I place no blame on you and your Order for fighting what you firmly believe to be an evil. To do so would be hypocritical, and I have said as much before."

"You have." Obi-Wan nodded, and continued diligently listening.

"Even now I feel it. Surely you can and have as well?"

"I…" Obi-Wan began and sighed leaning back into the bench. His hands folded atop one another in his lap and eyes tilting to the fake sky above him. "In a way. I don't know...yes?"

"There is no shame in admitting you feel something is out of place."

"Much is out of place these days, Gandalf." Obi-Wan shook his head and admitted. "There's the war, and...and I think much of what is wrong is because of it."

"War challenges all peoples it touches." Gandalf intoned. "Many folk want nothing to do with war. So long as it is a distant thing. A far away war, a far away tragedy. Until, as it always does, the far away war comes nearer. The brutality of organized murder and pain for one's gain is not a beast easily satiated of its hunger." The wizard went on and Obi-Wan could only nod in agreement of the imagery playing across his mind.

"The Republic is...not as I remember it once being. In some ways I'm beginning to think it had never really been as I thought it was. Or, maybe I'm the one who's changed? I don't know." Obi-Wan motioned his hands up in a wider shrug.

"It may well be all those things." Gandalf offered. "Or, none of them. Time itself changes us. With time one grows older. Wiser? One would hope, but that is not always the case. Made weary by long life and the trials of the everyday? Most certainly. What you feel is a mixture of all I am sure. Though only you can truly understand what you feel."

"If that's true," Obi-Wan began lowly. "I don't like what I feel."

"And how do you feel?"

"Unsure." Obi-Wan admitted and the discomfort in his voice was very evident. Especially for one like Gandalf who, had spent enough time with him to hear the subtle inflections and difference's of the Jedi Master's voice.

"I don't mean to presume, Obi-Wan, but I can only think this has to do with our younger Jedi friend." Gandalf noted. "Of prime evidence is that you are here and he is not." Obi-Wan gave another soft and sardonic laugh to that.

"You're right." Obi-Wan nodded. "I...can't really talk about it. I don't doubt Anakin may come to you to talk about it, but...I can't."

"You are a good man, Obi-Wan." Gandalf offered with a kindly smile. His hand patting Obi-Wan's left shoulder. "I understand that sometimes the secrets we keep are not because we wish to keep them. You are bound by your oaths. A respectable position to hold."

"Sometimes it feels more punishing than anything else."

"Often times doing what is right, or at least what feels right, is the harder thing." The wizard offered, and Obi-Wan had to agree.

"Yes well...it doesn't make it any easier."

"No. No it doesn't." Came Gandalf's honest remark. "So, in the best way you can, Obi-Wan, tell an old wizard what it is that troubles you?"

"Hah." Obi-Wan chuckled. "I'll do my best." Obi-Wan paused for a moment. Choosing his words within the silent scope of his mind. "Anakin has a duty. All Jedi do. However, he has another duty to perform. It is...not an easy one. Nor was it easy or comfortable to ask it of him. He did not take it well." Obi-Wan recalled. An image of Anakin's pensive face and darkened expression filling his memory.

"I don't like asking him to do such things."

"But, you felt obliged to do so." Gandalf intuited. Obi-Wan could only nod.

"Yes." He intoned. "The Order asks much of us. Of us Jedi. The Republic asks much of the Order. The Order cannot heal all wounds. Cannot right all wrongs though they...we try."

"The Republic asks much of the Order who asks much of each Jedi, who in kind ask much of our young friend. Anakin." Gandalf countered. Obi-Wan turned to look at Gandalf who offered Obi-Wan a knowing smile, as ever. "When you two first came to Arda I could see there was something...special about the both of you. And, not just because you had 'fallen from the skies' as the elves said!" Both lightly chuckled to that.

"You have grown much. Both of you have. And, what I mean to say is...Anakin is a very loyal, but idealistic man."

"Trust me, I know." Obi-Wan snorted in good humor.

"Yes, but it's more than that, I think."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that Anakin is asked to do much. He does it because he feels obliged to. More obliged than some may feel. It is both a virtue and a thing that can hurt him more than he and others realize." Gandalf went on. "When you two came to Lord Elrond's Council whom was it that wished to aid us?"

"Anakin." Obi-Wan spoke quickly. No need nor point in pretending it had been otherwise

"Yes. The lad is helpful to those he feels are owed his help. He feels obligated to do what's asked of him. Your Order, and this Republic from what little I have learned since meeting the both of you request much from him. A man's shoulders, however, can only hold up so much. Especially when more weight is constantly added to it." Gandalf warned.

"I...see your point." Obi-Wan sighed. Knowing that Gandalf was right. "What we ask of him now troubles me." Obi-Wan now carried on. "He is helpful. To a fault like you said. He thinks that he can carry the weight of the galaxy because he wants to fix everything. Thinks he can fix everything. Yet, he's so incredibly stubborn when he thinks what is right is right, and what is wrong is wrong."

"I may not know anything about this," Gandalf cut in. "But, I think Anakin has been asked to do something that hits at the heart of this loyalty?" To that probing question Obi-Wan relented and nodded.

"Yes."

"Do you fear he will fail in what the Council and what you have asked of him?" Obi-Wan turned again to look Gandalf in his wizened eyes. They looked back into his. "Has too much weight, at last, been added onto what we both know to be a troubled and weary back? If we follow this analogy to the fullest, of course." The wizard smiled. Though for his part Obi-Wan averted his gaze. Pointedly fixing it onto a plot of grass swaying in the generated winds of the vast room. Musing over all that had been said. All that had been done of late. Everything like flickers of moments from an overly long holofilm dancing across his recollection. Sights, sounds, worries, wounds and revelations. Anakin upon Arda. On his knees and broken, standing tall and strong. Hateful and helpful. The war, the Senate, the Chancellor, the Order, and both he and his old padawan.

"He has never let me down." Obi-Wan finally uttered. His brow furrowing on seemingly its own accord.

"And for that he should be commended of course!" Gandalf chortled. "But, that is not the question at hand, Master Kenobi." It was almost like he was back as a padawan himself. Being asked to answer a question that on the surface seemed easy. Yet, Master Qui-Gon or any of the other masters would press him on for a deeper thought. A more earnest, honest and raw reaction. A part of him seeming to know the answer. Like a word on the tip of his tongue. While another remained blissfully unaware. Or, maybe willfully unaware?

"I think perhaps...no I do not think he will. I don't think I have asked for too much...I am…unsure."

"He can choose to do them or not." Gandalf asserted. "Though, for folk such as that it is not the easiest thing to admit when one asks too much."

"You have a point." Obi-Wan relented. "He does make me proud, Gandalf. Anakin is strong, and though he has many faults, and what many Jedi would call failings I do not see him as a failure."

"Few men would have the ability to resist the One." Gandalf recalled. "Though he had to take extreme measure to do so, he should be commended all the same."

"Indeed." Obi-Wan nodded. "I don't know how I could help him. Sometimes I don't even know what he would need help with."

"You listen more than before." Gandalf nudged Obi-Wan's shoulder with a light pat of his staff. "I may not know the full history of you and he, but I can tell that you two speak with one another more clearly. That can only be a good thing. What is left unspoken can often times be what is the cause for the deepest of wounds."

"The sooner the better." Obi-Wan intoned.

"Precisely." Gandalf nodded. "I wouldn't know what the answer to your dilemma is, Obi-Wan. Though it is in my experience that more often than not the answer we seek is already present. It is that some are simply not yet ready to meet the answer. Or," Gandalf went on. "They are pulled in multiple directions. They fear hurting one thing, or person by relenting with another."

"I think you're right." Obi-Wan could quickly admit, and deduce about himself. The Order and Anakin. Both should be pulling in the same direction. Yet, here he was. Feeling as though he sat between them. One of them yanking on his arm to pull the other. The Order and the Republic both needed much from Anakin, or rather wanted much from him. A hero, a spy, an effective commander, and a good Jedi. In a way Obi-Wan felt Anakin did owe them that. But, he knew he didn't. The Jedi owed the Republic because they felt as though they did. The Order has always been at the service of the Republic since thousands of years before this very moment. A blip in the long millennia of symbiosis between the Galactic Republic and Jedi Order. All those centuries and years leading up to this moment. Where Obi-Wan realized, and likely had realized for many days or months before; that something needed to change. It was one or the other. Anakin, or the Order.

Both ideas frightened him. He could be honest enough with himself about that.

"You have much to think about, I presume?" Gandalf wondered and Obi-Wan nodded.

"That I do. I…" He paused. "I can only hope that all works out...well. I can...I will work towards that end."

"Hope is a powerful ally, Obi-Wan." The wizard warmly offered, again patting Obi-Wan's free shoulder. "Utilize it, and hold onto it even when the light seems all but blackened out. A power that even those who seek to inspire despair can hardly dream of conquering."

"Ever the optimist." Obi-Wan chuckled. To which Gandalf gave a slight shrug.

"Not always. Perhaps just a fool?"

"If that's true then I'll gladly join you in foolishness!"

"That's the spirit!" Both of them joined in laughter. Though thoughts continued to cloud Obi-Wan's mind in silence. Regardless, his gratitude for the wizard, the being beside him was immeasurable. Whether Gandalf knew it or not.

But, Obi-Wan was sure Gandalf knew.

---

Anakin entered the apartment with a distinctively heavy sigh as the doorway slid shut behind him. Every precaution having been made to hide himself on any would be prying eyes of course. All of it so very tiresome for a day already more than just tiresome. After leaving Obi-Wan and the temple Anakin didn't feel much reprieve. Didn't feel much in the way of happy. Didn't stop his mind from racing, and didn't stop his anger from electrifying his every fiber. He felt like he needed a holiday. A long one.

"Ani?" Came a soothing voice from deeper within the suite. Immediately a smile erupted across his features, and even if for a moment some of the ills and weight of the galaxy lifted from off his very hunched shoulders.

"Yeah it's me!"

"We're in the foyer." She called back. Her voice a song to him. Her presence within the Force and that of his children; kriff he had kids, their presences together were bounding and bright. He easily followed after them into Padmé's apartment.

"Hey." Anakin greeted as he entered the foyer. The fountain nearby ever present and lulling with its flowing water.

"Hey." Padmé greeted over shoulder. Her smile causing his own to widen as he rounded the couch she sat on.

"Oh! I see I'm interrupting." Anakin laughed as Padmé held Luke to her breast.

"Oh please."

"I know. You're right." Anakin sat down beside her. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"You really should work on your flirting, Ani." She scoffed.

"Why? It got me you." She gave him a sideways glare that she knew she couldn't maintain and so did he. As both soon shared their knowing smirks.

"You're a fool."

"Only sometimes." Anakin relented and reached forward. Running his gloved hand atop Luke's head. He still found any touch...weird. He was a father. He felt awkward. How can you be awkward around babies? They're babies! Yet, here he was.

"Where's Leia?"

"Right here." Padmé tilted her head off to the right and Anakin realized he had failed to note the mobile beside the couch.

"Ah. Come here princess! Your mother already picking favorites I see!"

"And your father already doting." Padmé lowly countered as she remained careful to support Luke to herself. "You spoil her and turn her into a daddy's girl and you're the one who'll suffer for it."

"You exaggerate." Anakin chuckled as Leia gave a low mumbling babble. Her wide eyes opening and glancing around the roof where she came to lay nuzzled in the crook of Anakin's left arm.

"Look at those beautiful brown eyes." Anakin cooed and leaned down. Planting his forehead to Leia who in kind gave him a smack alongside his head.

"Ow! The both of you I swear."

"Ah, I see she is in fact my daughter."

"Ha ha, very funny." The two bantered, and Anakin realized only then he had been totally at ease. Nothing had entered his mind to bring him down. Nothing had stricken the smile from his face, and contorted his emotions, and thoughts into anything that felt wrong. He was sitting with his wife. His beautiful wife beyond strong in her own ways. Beyond his worth, and he knew it...or at least felt it. And, with his two twin children. Force! He had twins! Anakin felt his heart swell at the reminder and he still couldn't believe it.

"My little princess!" Anakin cooed again. Another surge of love he had not imagined possible rippling over his spirit. The Force cascading off him across both Leia and Luke. Their mingled presences within the Force responding in kind. Probing, unfocused, but Anakin could feel it. Dependence, but not just that. A love, a raw, and unmitigated or unconditional love. Even if he didn't know what he was doing; even if he knew deep down he didn't know what it was like to be a father, that feeling made seeing them and holding them worth anything.

"What are you thinking?" Anakin turned to look at Padmé. Her own brown orbs probing his blues. They looked so much like Leia's, or he guessed Leia had eyes like her mother? Either way, beautiful.

"Oh...this and that." Anakin shrugged and ran his hand across Leia's forehead. Cooing her back to a restful state through her low babbling. The Force flowing from him to her. Assuring her she was okay, and she could rest. Soft and small, easy and quiet. She was already a lady! So, Anakin thought to himself with no small amount of humor.

"I hadn't expected you back so soon."

"Yeah well...the meeting wasn't so long." Anakin explained as Leia began drifting to sleep in his arm. "I did get to chauffeur some of the Arda visitors around the temple, and I think they had a good time. So did I."

"But?" She pressed. Obviously she was able to read him.

"I...I never did tell you what the meeting was about, did I?"

"I did tell you, you would tell me what this was all about this morning, Ani."

"Ah. Hah, guess I forgot, my Lady." He offered rubbing the back of his neck. "Well it was, or does, have to do with the Chancellor."

"Palpatine?"

"No other Chancellor, my Lady." Anakin grinned and she rolled her eyes.

"Alright, laser brain. But, what does he have to do with your meeting?" Anakin sighed. His eyes gazing out the open entrance to the balcony. Though he was sure to ease himself away from so open a connection with the twins as he did so. He didn't want them feeling his frustrations so heavily.

"The other day, yesterday, Palpatine appointed me to the Jedi Council."

"What?!" Padmé all but jumped and stirred Luke. The boy by now also drifting and catching her attention. Allowing for her to silently fix her arm back into her dress and put Luke down into the mobile.

"You sound shocked."

"You weren't?" She quietly retorted as she stood and bent down to lay Luke within the mobile.

"I was." Anakin as hushed as her replied. Himself rising up and joining Leia with her brother. The two parents silently standing beside one another. Staring down in mingled admiration, joy and love.

"Threepio?" Anakin called out lowly, but hoped his droid would hea-

"Master Ani, I'm so happy to see-"

"Shh!" Anakin hushed and pointed to the mobile. The droid paused where he had entered the foyer. Bending where he stood awkwardly, as if to catch a better look.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Master Anakin. Oh, may I be of some assistance?"

"Can you take them back to their room, Threepio?" Padmé cut Anakin off and asked nicely.

"Of course, my Lady! At once! Shall I put diner on for either of you?"

"No, Threepio." Anakin spoke up. "But, thanks. Just watch the twins and come get us if they wake up."

"Of course, Master Anakin!" Threepio whirred his way over, grabbed the mobile which lifted off the ground at the touch of its handle with a small repulsor underneath and it seamlessly moved through the air across the foyer with Threepio down the hall and out of sight.

"Always a help, Threepio." Anakin shook his head. "Although...I wouldn't mind some food now that he mentioned it."

"I could-"

"No!" Anakin began. "Uh, I mean...you don't have to worry about it. I'm not that hungry."

"You think you're in some way clever or coy, but you aren't Ani." Padmé glared. "My cooking is-"

"Great, it's just great!" Anakin cut her off. "I'm serious, I'm just not that hungry. Besides," Anakin chuckled. "Don't you wanna know all about my exciting day?"

"Oh right." She snapped back to the prior conversation and pulled him down to sit beside her on the couch. "So, what's happening?"

"I don't know where to start. Uh…" Anakin trailed off. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts.

"I guess...well I'm sure you know about the Chancellor receiving powers over the Jedi Order from the Senate?"

"Yes." She simply and flatly replied.

"Right. Well, he asked to see me yesterday. Sent a message through Obi-Wan. Which I can only assume means it went through the Council first? I'm not sure."

"That's not normal protocol though, right?" She probed and Anakin nodded.

"Yeah. I mean, no it's not normal, per say. But, not anything to really get too anxious over in my book." Anakin shrugged. "Anyway, Palpatine wanted through his new powers someone on the Jedi Council to be a sort of liaison. Nothing nefarious." Anakin didn't know why he felt he had needed to be defensive about that, but...he had. Why?

"I can't imagine that went well with the rest of the Council? With Obi-Wan?" Padmé pressed.

"You'd be right." He snorted. Though Anakin could see that only caught a quizzical glance from Padmé into his eyes.

"What's that mean, exactly?"

"I had...I thought...it's all so damn frustrating." Anakin groaned with a barely contained warbling growl about his voice. "Palpatine appointed me to the Council. Logically I figured that meant I'd be put on the Council, and thus made a Master."

"You weren't."

"I wasn't." Anakin frowned. "Master Windu was the one to give me the news. On the Council, but not a Master."

"You couldn't have expected them to simply roll over and accept that, Ani." Perhaps not. Though that's what Anakin logically had to figure. But, it still didn't make him feel any better.

"No." He relented aloud, and motioned his hands out from his lap in a shrug. "I guess not. I had just hoped. A little kriffing recognition! A little respect, and some deferment to my thoughts. My opinions!" Anakin growled. Eyes averting hers and looking out over the, moving skyline of Coruscant as she remained silent beside him. The water streaming nearby helping to dull some of that looming anger just beneath the surface. Her presence helping keep him calm. Soothing his aggression. His right hand...aching. Clenching and loosing. He hated this tic.

"Ani," Padmé began, and caught his gaze once more. "I understand you're upset."

"But?" Anakin could feel it coming. Even without the Force.

"But," There it was. "I think you were being a little too optimistic?"

"Now there's a switch." Anakin scoffed.

"How's that?"

"Generally, I think I'm the more realistic one here, Senator." He teased her. Though he could tell it didn't quite sound so genuine. "Well I just mean with your view on the Republic and...all that."

"I know what you meant." Padmé smiled and lightly slapped at his arm. It put him at ease. He had thought for a minute he may have upset her. Anakin hated upsetting her.

"I think you forget that the Jedi are just as much involved in politics as anyone else on Coruscant. Though, a bit more so than the common man I'd argue."

"Jedi politics are a joke. All politics are a karking joke." Anakin intoned. The memory of what Obi-Wan had asked of him entering his mind.

"As this...personal representative on the Council, do you have any other formal duties? Informal ones?" She probed. Curious as she was. Anakin didn't think it best to tell her though. What the Jedi wanted. Of anyone she would understand his duty, his unease and disdain for what was asked of him. But, no. Anakin thought better of dragging her into anything about...that.

"I…" Anakin began. "I meet with the Chancellor, as he described it to me. I relay information between him and the Council. I also get to sit in on Council meetings and remain quiet." Anakin caught Padmé's eyes again and smirked. "Ya'know, like a good ack dog?"

"Oh shut up!" She admonished, again hitting his arm and retaining her strong gaze with his. Almost a glare it seemed. "You're not an ack dog. You're not anyone's pet."

"No...just a politician's boy toy?" She immediately blushed but rolled her eyes with a playful scoff.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"I can."

"I'm still talking." He teased and she jabbed back. And, like that all was well again. Even if for but another moment. Both sharing stupid smirks, stupid smiles on their faces. Both lightly laughing. Hands intertwined with the other's and playfully rubbing fingers to palms. Silence passing. Silence that was anything but uncomfortable.

"Sometimes I wonder what's happening to the Jedi order." Anakin began after staring down at their interlocked hands for a moment. "Maybe that's not right...but, I don't know." He trailed off again with a sigh. "I think this war is destroying the principles of the Republic. And, on the way down it's dragging the Order down with it. Everything is chaos. Everything doesn't make sense anymore." Anakin finished. Eyes darting off for a moment again in contemplation as he unloaded the thoughts hidden within. Even if indirectly related to what truly hounded his inner feelings.

Padmé shuffled beside him for a moment after he spoke. Through the Force, Anakin had felt the faintest tinge of trepidation. As usual he kept himself from prying at her feelings. Yet, he turned and saw her expression turn serious. Eyes planted onto his own once more.

"What?" Anakin pressed her.

"Have you ever considered that we may be on the wrong side?"That struck Anakin deep. A flash of everything fought for, and everyone lost wracked his brain, and his voice caught.

"What do you mean?" Was all he could muster as a retort.

"What if the democracy we thought we were serving no longer exists...and the Republic has become the very evil we've been fighting to destroy?"

"I don't believe that. And you're sounding like a Separatist." Yet, even as Anakin gave the accusation he had the horrid realization. That it wasn't just Obi-Wan and the Council, and it wasn't just the questions of his friends from Arda that Obi-Wan had told him about. Those negative thoughts. Even here and now, Padmé, someone he thought had always been a stalwart defender, and patriot of the Republic sat here next to him and...what was happening?!

"Ani, just listen to me." She squeezed his hand harder. "This war represents a failure to listen. Not just from the Chancellor, and not just from the Separatists. From everyone. This war has become endless and non-exhaustive. No one is listening anymore, we're just doing. We're just acting and fighting." She continued on as Anakin felt his heart once more begin to quicken in mounting unease and confusion.

"Now you're closer to the Chancellor than anyone. Please, ask him to stop the fighting and let diplomacy resume."

"Don't ask me to do that!" Anakin shot with more aggression than he had meant. "Make a motion in the Senate, where that kind of a request belongs." He had jumped to a stand and pointed her way as though he were making a command. He retracted it immediately and felt ashamed by his outburst. She wasn't at fault for why he felt this way. But, she felt as Obi-Wan and the Council and seemingly everyone but himself felt.

"What is it?" She pressed from the couch.

"Nothing...everything." Anakin relented. Padmé kept quiet, but stood up and moved over to him. Forcing him to turn and look at her.

"Don't do this. Don't shut me out. Let me help you."

"I don't know if you can help me Padmé."

"I can certainly try. And, you don't get to make that decision on whether or not I will." She was so damn firm. So damnably sure and authoritative. It made a thin smile creep onto his features. Even if it was struck away by the maelstrom of uncertainty and unease that bloated throughout his mind and body.

"How…" Anakin began, but caught himself. A sigh escaping.

"How what?" Padmé pushed.

"How long have you...have you felt this way?" Anakin waved his hand up over his head without direction. "About the Republic, I mean."

"A while...not long." She honestly replied. Her own eyes full of some quiet concern that Anakin couldn't quite place. Though he could guess to its point of origin.

"The Republic is not as it once was." Padmé continued. "I don't even know if the Republic I thought existed when I was Queen ever truly existed to begin with. Yet," She leaned into him. Planting her head and face into his tunic and resting herself with her arms wrapped around his back. "It has only gotten worse. I don't mean to worry you, Ani." She softly added. Anakin, for his part wrapped his arms around her and planted his head atop her own and swayed them lightly where they stood. His eyes staring off at nothing. They followed his thoughts. Aimless, and without intended point. Unsure, and no small amount of unspoken fear.

"It's not you." Anakin finally offered, and was sure to tighten his hold of her. "This whole appointment has my mind everywhere at the same time. The Council is upset, Obi-Wan is upset, you're upset."

"Not with you."

"No, I know." Anakin noted. "I just feel like everything has gone crazy. The galaxy is not how I remember leaving it. The stint on Arda maybe cleared my head. Maybe it muddled it? I'm not really sure. The galaxy just doesn't feel...right."

"Then let's just concentrate on this moment." Padmé offered.

"What do you mean?"

"Just this moment. Here and now. Keep holding me. Like you did by the lake on Naboo. So long ago, when there was nothing but our love. No politics, no plotting, no war." She swooned in his grasp and he planted his face into her hair. Absorbing the feeling of her body, the scent of her hair. The perfection of this quiet moment, and she was right. Closing his eyes he was on Naboo. With her. By that lake again. But, he nor she were not alone this time.

There were two bundles nearby. The babble of babies happily giggling at a distance. His smile broadened in the silence of this moment. This point of just existing. All worries hidden beneath the surface, but happily trampled into silence by this act of life. It made him feel whole, and that was enough. Even if as quickly as it came so too did reality scratch at the wall of his happy fantasies.

"I'll see what I can do." Anakin intoned.

"Hmm?"

"With the Chancellor." Anakin went on, but neither of them left their current state.

"Really?" She pressed. Sounding a bit astounded. "Ani, I don't want you to if-"

"I know." He cut her off. "It's a simple request. I shouldn't get so worked up about it. I'll talk with him again tomorrow."

"You...you're wonderful." She squeezed him back tighter, and through the Force he could feel her love abound. Anakin smirked.

"I know it." Both she and he laughed. Though, in the quiet of his mind, Anakin didn't think it was worth telling Padmé he had already promised to help the Jedi and he supposed the Republic on her behalf. Obi-Wan played his cards right. Anakin knew somewhere he was right to be concerned. Even if he didn't believe it. Didn't want...feel the reason to. What was so bad about asking Palpatine to look into diplomacy over the horrors of war? Anakin was sure he'd be reasonable. At the very least he'd give a welcome explanation for why such was impossible, and it would be enough.

Just like this moment with Padmé, here and now, was more than enough.

---

"Are you sure these are how the names sounded to you?"

"As sure as I can remember, my Lord Prince." Taruk assured with a wave of his hand. Sitting across from him Prince Amathir regarded the notes Taruk had taken with his meeting involving Arsuna earlier in the day. Night was upon them now as the two sat within the same residence Taruk had first met with Amathir in. They were lit by multiple candles and torches lining the white walls. Outside the windows the bustle of nightlife could be heard. A peasant here, the lower level taverns aloud there, and the trudging of horses on cobblestone elsewhere. Such a...lively place.

"I've heard of one of these names before. Though I cannot place where. At least," Amathir shrugged. "If your recount matches this spelling pattern you've chosen. Curious how similar our languages are…" Amathir trailed. Though Taruk did agree it was a curious thing, it was hardly the first time such had happened across the galaxy. Somehow Basic was far more common even on worlds not yet met with the Republic than otherwise.

"Which of the names, my Lord?"

"Borgus." The Prince nodded to himself. His eyes tracing the name on the flimsy Koll had transferred his notes to. "The East is a curious place. As Prince of Pelargir my main concern laid with the Umbar. That didn't stop me from hearing news from the other lords and princes as to the troubles they faced. Especially when the Enemy had sicced all his dogs upon us from all fronts."

"Oh?" Taruk intoned. "That is good news."

"How's that?" Amathir cocked curious brow.

"As I've told you; my benefactor the Republic, and your silent partner wants these names investigated." Taruk stated matter-of-factly. "It's not my place to ask so many questions myself. My benefactor can be quite...obstinate. However, they want all the information I can gather on these three names. Be it from you, your fellow lords, or as I want, the Lady Amdirniel."

"That can be arranged." Amathir simply nodded. "Though our activities have only just begun? Why do we need to involve the East so suddenly in our affairs?"

"Why not?" Taruk threw his hands out. "The harder pressed the King is on all sides the more open to support he will be. The East is in turmoil, right?"

"Best I can report on, yes."

"Then, we take advantage of that too. Right? You want Gondor strong, correct?"

"Of course." Amathir's eyes narrowed. As if the question had been an insinuation or insult otherwise.

"I and the Republic would prefer someone sit on the throne of Gondor who is more amiable. Ergo we have Amdirniel and Mahalmion for that. However, that also means we should maintain stability and peace once we have attained our goals. No?"

"Explain." Amathir pressed and pushed the flimsy from himself. Grabbing a chalice full of wine as he watched Taruk.

"Right." Taruk shuffled in his seat, leaning his arms onto the table, folding his fingers together. "We already know that in order for this to succeed we will need support locally. By 'we' I mean me and the Republic as a whole. Now, I've discussed with both you and in our meeting with the Lady, that preferences are alliances with both the south and the east. So far Lady Amdirniel has stated she has contacts in both. However, what my benefactor wants is stability planet wide. It's better for...the Republic. Less warring among the local populations means better opportunity for everyone." Taruk noted.

"The East was once ruled by an emperor. This much is obvious. He is now dead. There is war, civil war to the east. That cannot be good for anyone. Especially Gondor."

"How so?" Amathir probed. Himself now motioning his hands in a questioning dismissive wave. "For countless generations the people of Rhûn and Harad have both tried to murder as many Gondorians as possible. Do not misjudge my mood or point, my Lord Delegate. I firmly believe peace is preferable, but as a Lord of Gondor I fail to see how our enemies destroying one another adversely affects Gondor itself."

"That is because it is a narrow view, my Lord!" Taruk pointed an accusatory finger. "If Rhûn remains in civil war those who attain power in the east will likely be the bloodiest. The most warlike and the most thirsty for outwards expansion at that point. Harad too, though those in the south are another matter entirely, so let's focus on Rhûn."

"Very well." Amathir nodded.

"If there is peace in the east, not only will we assuage the hunger for blood civil wars inherently bring. We will gain a stronger centralized ally from which to call upon. A pacified east with a stronger force to call upon will mean greater aid to our alliance. It will mean stronger support, and if we should pick the ally ourselves, name a certain Lord we choose as our friend then-"

"Then we will have control over them." Amathir finished and Taruk smirked, leaning back into his seat.

"I wouldn't put it so bluntly, but yes." Taruk chuckled. "Think of it less as making an enemy stronger. It's making an enemy a friend. Truly defeating them by subduing their need for blood. Turning their resources into an asset."

"It is a dangerous gamble." Amathir posed.

"Nothing that is worth having in the end does not come with risk." Taruk offered with a sly smile.

"Perhaps." Amathir intoned. His eyes averting to the flimsy once more. Silence passing as Taruk sipped his own glass. Alas it was filled with just tea. A decent brew, but just tea.

"I will get these names to Lady Amdirniel. I assume time is a factor?" Amathir began.

"Yes. We'll do it the same as our trip. Get your man to the mouth of the river. My ship will pick him up and drop him off. No questions asked by the troopers. Your man gets the information from the lady, returns to the gunship and returns to the river. Less direct contact for the both of us, and you get me what you find out." Taruk laid out what was obviously a planned series of events.

"I see. That I can do." Amathir nodded.

"You do have a man you can trust?"

"Yes." Amathir waved his hand. "The one we met back in Umbar. He's loyal. He'll be arriving for a report come two days from now. That's the fastest I can do with a man we can put our faith in."

"That'll have to do." Taruk smiled and raised his glass in a faux toast. "Tell me, my Lord Prince," Taruk began again after a hefty sip from his glass. "What have you heard of this Borgus?"

Amathir remained momentarily silent. An intake of breath sounding as he pulled a flimsy all his own from a nearby collection and began jotting down what Taruk assumed to be instructions.

"Word has spread of a King named Borgus. I don't know all the details. This was secondhand from Lord Prince Berenthor. He is of no consequence, petty nobility from Anórien. He and his men have taken up the rebuilding of Cair Andros, the northern watch of the river Anduin."

"I see. Please go on." Taruk offered with a wave of his hand.

"In my conversations with Lord Berenthor, he indicated from his scouts that one of the 'kings' in the east has set out back east from the westernmost reaches of Rhûn. Something is stirring in the eastern lands of that vast territory, as far as Berenthor can guess. It would seem to me, and to the others that Borgus is being pressed by another 'king.' Perhaps one of those claiming succession to the throne as he was? They are troublesome enough to pull him away from the borders with Gondor. Which I and most others have no issue with as you can imagine."

"I can. Though," Taruk cleared his throat. "You had seemed distressed before, my Lord. Is there a reason?" Amathir was silent again. Writing down something on his paper.

"It is not so much distress as mere concern. Nothing more." Taruk hummed, not fully believing him.

"I'd still hear what brought on this concern."

"Borgus, if he has maintained the western watch for Rhûn is a savage." Amathir sneered. "Many a man and woman, children even of the peasantry found in the furthest reaches of Gondor have been killed or worse under the care of the western legions of Rhûn."

"I see."

"Not entirely." Amathir rebuked Taruk. "He is cruel, if in fact he is the same man that has caused so much grief. Yet, there was no denying he was an excellent tactician against any incursions we attempted to make into the Rhovanion. What I worry is what I do not know."

"Ah, now I see." Taruk nodded. "Whatever or whomever has forced him to recall the western garrisons-"

"Must be troublesome indeed." Amathir finished for Taruk. A sour and hateful expression still etched onto his fair features.

"I will get this letter prepared, my Lord Delegate." Amathir rose to a stand, Taruk following him. Feeling the mood shift, indicating his time to leave. "I suggest you be as cautious as ever. The politics of this Kingdom are troublesome enough for us both. Before we dare meddle in the affairs of the East. And the unkempt butchers that wriggle and writhe over the vast and unknown." Amathir bade him farewell. In his own way. Taruk could only bow in acknowledgment before he began to make his way out of the abode. The servant of the Prince, Tallandir, ushering him silently, but kindly out onto the fine cobblestone of Minas Tirith.

"If only you knew how much I agreed with you. My Lord Prince." Taruk sighed as a chill from the night air struck him. And he made his way 'home' for the night.

---

"There are two worlds. Not simply one. The narrow mindedness of what your eyes show you as the World is but a simple perception." Sauron explained from where he sat. Palpatine listened, numbly noting that night had fallen across Coruscant beyond them as their long conversation and exploration into this so called 'magic' continued.

"You've made as much clear, Lord Sauron." Palpatine noted. "You have yet to describe how this may actually strengthen ones defenses."

"Because it is not simply a matter of building some unseen wall." Sauron frowned, and the orange hue of those burning eyes narrowed onto Palpatine from across the room. "You open yourself up within the Force and you are able to catch glimpses of the World where the spiritual is manifest. The Force is quite extraordinary in this way." Sauron explained. "Yet, it does not fully encapsulate what you see. I have seen through this lens. Through the Force. The great bounty it can show one still does not fully grasp. It is as though this Force sees both at once, and both are dimmed as they share the same eye. The living and waking world and the whispers of the spiritual and beyond. Attuning one to see both at once I am sure is more than possible, but likely a long exhaustive effort that would take mortal man life ages to master." A supposition on Sauron's part, but Palpatine did not add his own thought to the discourse.

"So, to put it simply," Palpatine offered. "You and this Gandalf see in both plains as well? Even without the Force?"

"It is not so simple...but yes. There is an active choice in doing so, and the vision is not so clear. When I hold physical form as does Mithrandir, the sight of the physical world becomes primary in my mind. Yet when I focus I see that which lay just beneath the surface. As Mithrandir will be capable of as well."

"So, when you take physical form? Not when you are...a shapeless mass?" Palpatine recalled the dark tendrils of smokey blackness that had ripped the massive doors off their latches back upon Korriban.

"When one is disembodied one can see that which is beneath the surface more clearly. You are attune with the spiritual realm. The elves see this realm more clearly than others, and sometimes it shows itself even to those who do not see this realm. Though only those who have seen the wonder of Valinor shine brightly with an echo of its majesty and wonder."

"Valinor...you've mentioned this place before." Palpatine spoke his thoughts aloud this time. "This place holds some significance with this 'other plain' I suppose?"

"Only in that it is inhabited by those who are of the spiritual. All that they touch, all that they build and permeate shines brighter with their presence. The elves borne of Middle-Earth and who never made the great journey would know little of this glow. Would know little of Valinors beauty and reflect nothing of it."

"This is all so very...intricate." Palpatine sighed. Being sure to make his seeming lack of interest tangible. "To see this one must've been here. Or be made or born with the correct sight, on and on." The Chancellor waved a flippant hand. "It all sounds so very set in stone. So clear cut. You have yet to describe how it may not be so. To show one who does not have the natural sight of the 'spiritual' how they can see it. Better still, to resist."

"I can show you how to run a man through with a blade. That does not mean you understand the finer points of wielding one. Of how to utilize it beyond a simple repeatable and easily defeatable set of stances, thrusts and movements." Sauron tersely retorted. To which Palpatine had to bow his head and cackle.

"You've got me there." He admitted, a continuing soft laughter erupting from his chest as he did. "Please continue."

"The fundamentals are clear enough." Sauron waved him off. Seemingly having taken some offense to Palpatine. The Chancellor couldn't help but smirk. At least on the inside at that.

"Should Mithrandir and you meet on a plain where the Force makes your presence and his possible you will need to make defense of the spirit your priority."

"Very good. How can I do that?" He felt as though he had been asking this question all night, but Palpatine maintained his calmness and patience as best he could.

"Close your eyes, Sidious. Delve once more into the Force, and attempt to touch my mind." Sauron offered with emotionless face and tone. Palpatine cocked his brow, and held the slightest tinge of trepidation within himself. A rare feeling that he had only come to feel again as of late. It was a fascinating and invigorating sensation! Like an old friend one hadn't seen in ages coming to visit. It fed his fear. That fear fueled the Force, and it made him feel alive.

"I believe the last time we met on that level I was quite aggressively repulsed."

"Yes," Sauron nodded. "You were uninvited, and unwanted. You pressed your mind onto mine, and I repelled you. Easily. Now I invite you to do so again. So that you may understand what your spirit may come up against." Palpatine noted the not so subtle mark of pride and condescension. But, it was par for the course between the two of them. He simply smiled in response and pulled himself down onto the floor. Sitting as he had within his office earlier that day. Legs underneath his body, his hands folded atop one another in his lap, and eyes closed. He didn't want to get too 'loud' within the Force. But, he was confident he could do two things at once.

"Now reach out." Sauron commanded, and Palpatine did so. Delving into the Force and the endless sensations one was drowned in upon Coruscant. Billions of voices, feelings, frustrations and desires. But, so near to him Palpatine could pick out Sauron. Who was, to his credit actually quite quiet. A lot more so than he had been mere weeks beforehand. The Force subtle, nonetheless, wriggling and writhing around so seemingly accursed a creature.

Palpatine sighed in concentration and reached through the Force. His being scratching at the surface of the Force that surrounded Sauron. In an instant the Force and the dark side seemed to give way and a fire erupted across the vision of his mind's eye! Palpatine recoiled where he sat and his mind felt a familiar pain throb. His skin felt irritated, itching as though a stove's heat sat perched atop it.

"This is but the simplest perception of what a maia is." The voice was not from the ears. Not within the room. It was within this place. Much as that Gandalf's voice had been. It boomed with a strength that did not betray a sex. Palpatine supposed such a thing did not exist with spiritual beings. If Sauron was to be believed at face value.

"I see it...you."

"Yes, now feel." Sauron intoned and that like a tendril of flame wrapped in the bounding shock of a bolt of lightning rippled through the darkness of the mind. It fell upon Palpatine and he heaved a heavy breath about the real world as the Force crackled and snapped within their momentary meeting.

"What is this?!"

"But, a taste of what one spirit imposed on another can feel." Sauron declared so simply. Though even through the pain of this thunderous fire, Palpatine sensed a hidden layer of enjoyment.

"Focus on your spirit, Sidious. You are not so defenseless as you may think. Think of yourself as you know yourself. Not how you represent yourself. Not as you lie to all who come across you. Think upon your spirit and be honest with what lay there, Visualize it and expand outwards."

"I...see." Palpatine grimaced and seethed, but he followed the instruction. Not for the first time today being reminded of his old teacher.

Nevertheless, Palpatine imagined it. A darkness that was all consuming. Conniving, brilliant and hateful. Intent on rule. Intent on power. Unafraid of whatever challenges come to him and all who dare challenge him. Heartless, ambitious, arrogant, insidious, without shame or empathy. Murderous. A shapeless mass. What he was. A mass, unstoppable, all consuming. A storm in the vastness of the Force, and unbreakable by any mountain. Unshaken by any wind, and unknown by all but itself, himself!

"Good." Sauron intoned within the mind, and the power of the voice still rattled Palpatine. Though it seemed more...distant than before.

"Your spirit is your anchor. Your being is your power. You are your own defense against one who is seeking to impose their will onto yours. Mithrandir would say otherwise, and so too would all among my kind who do not seek out the ambitions that wriggle within their natures. Yet, it is true all the same. That the spirit of the ainur when locked in battle is dueling in a game of dominance and submission. To totally dominate another spirit is to achieve victory. To wipe the slate clean is to destroy that which was there entire. Even I cannot hope to destroy a spirit's essence entirely. Perhaps none among the ainur can claim to have done such. Yet, it is the same principle you should take heed of, Sidious." Sauron's voice boomed and Palpatine reached out and grasped onto the self made visage that was himself. In it he felt assured of his own power. With it he felt right. He felt fully aware and he felt in control. An exhilaration of pure ego!

"Repeat after me, Sidious. Utilize that which you have hold of now; your spirit, and speak these words with all the strength you feel within it."

"I am ready." Palpatine seethed. Though there was no pain. Nothing but raw enraptured wonder for what he felt within his own self!

"I caurë alaië Ainu."

"I caurë alaië Ainu!" The words were so strange, and were it his lips that spoke them Palpatine feared he may have mispronounced them. Yet, here in the mind they sounded so beautiful. Raw and natural! Like a song on the edge of hearing beneath a torrential downpour...that was the only way his mind could conceive it. The Force though! It sung! It acted as though it was shaking, vibrating and expanding as a shield and he felt his visage grow stronger! Perhaps but his own imagination, perhaps he had simply bought too quickly into what this creature told him. This feeling though...he could not explain it! Nor did he want to. It simply felt wondrous!

"I feel it!" Palpatine laughed within his mind, and realized then that Sauron's presence was there. Strong, powerful, hot and imposing, and still of threat to him. But...yes...there was an inherent strength there that had not been there before.

"What you feel now is no great mystery." Sauron began, and the power of his presence shook him, but Palpatine stood firm and felt strong for it. "You have simply gained a grasp of what seems to be a lost art among the world of Men. The tackling of ones own spirit. You have seen it. Manifested it, and you know yourself. Not just your ambition, but your nature. With the right words, the right commands, the right manner and power of ones own spirit they can master that which they come up against. The elves know this all too well. Your progress is quick, and commendable."

"The Force feels it as well!" Palpatine noted within their meeting of minds. "Truly there is something to what you speak."

"Yes...there...is…" Palpatine felt his physical self concentrate harder.

"Sauron?" He intoned, and suddenly the presence of the creature seemed to shiver and shake. Palpatine moved through the darkness of his mind's eye and turned back towards that light. Only to see it retreating. Into a void of nothingness that stretched on forever.

"What is happening?" Palpatine demanded as he pulled the Force, and this newfound sense of spiritual awareness to himself. Making ready to defend against anything and everything. The Force crackled and ebbed. He looked about for the light of Sauron but saw it fade further and further until all light seemed to disappear from the landscape of the mind. The Force whirred further until at last a voice did sound.

"Now now, I think this little reunion has gone on long enough!" Palpatine recognized the voice. To be honest it wasn't new. Merely the cadence of it.

"Vica."

"That's me! Darth Sidious, or so I hear you call yourself." In a new flash of light as perceived in the mind, Palpatine was greeted by the visage of the woman. She appeared as she did in the waking world minus the profoundly unnatural eyes Sauron bore. Her arms outstretched in a triumphant sort of cross as she grinned wickedly upon him.

"They'll be no more talking between you boys. I think you've learned quite enough from this fool I'm forced to lug around."

"To have you call anyone other than yourself a fool is quite the profound irony." Palpatine shot back. However, the visage of Vica simply giggled and raised one hand towards him. The Force rippled and howled and in an instant Palpatine was thrown backwards.

His eyes opened in the waking world looking up at the ceiling from where he had been forced back. He sneered and pushed himself back up onto his knees. All but jumping to a stand afterwards.

"You have some nerve, girl!" Palpatine allowed for the facade to fade some. His voice croaking in anger. "You dare to use the Fore on me?! You sniveling little brat! Wherever Dooku got the idea to train one as dim as you is beyond me!" Palpatine seethed. Hands balled to fists at his side and eyes boiling in the yellow rage of his darkness.

"I certainly dare, Sidious." She mocked his title. Rising to a stand and dusting her clothes with prolonged and mindless flare. "You see, I've been needing time out. I get so little of it lately. And, you two made the door just wide enough for me to come through! I'm thrilled honestly. Besides, I get to ruin your night. Much as you've ruined my day and night since I found out who you are. Sniveling?" She seemed to pick up on that insult as an afterthought. The Force prickling around her in a turbulent storm. "You call me sniveling, but you're the one that cowers from the Jedi as Supreme Chancellor? What a joke."

"You haven't even the faintest idea what the word subterfuge is do you, girl?" Palpatine sneered. Grasping his robes and yanking them out. Forcibly removing any folds and creases in the clothing. "You stand there so damn proud of yourself. So utterly sure and arrogant that you're in control. When you are merely a meat suit for greater powers. A sad fate for one so simple. For one so utterly pointless and meritless as to not be worthy a footnote in history." Palpatine plastered wide and smug smirk to his features. "Regardless, of however this ends I hope I'm there to see it when you're tossed aside. Like the loose piece of Outer-Rim trash you've ever been."

"The feeling's mutual, munk guzzler." She smiled so sweetly as to make Palpatine sick. Her brown eyes danced as their own yellow tinge threatened to come to the surface.

"How about you be a good girl and bring your better back out?"

"Hmm...no. No I don't think I will. Now's Vica's time. Vica gets to sit back and relax. Watch you writhe. Watch you really really want something. And, know that you can't have it. Because I say so! There's a long list of situations and orders blah blah blah, but in a roundabout way you got me in this situation. So, as repayment for that I'm gonna make your life as miserable as I can. Sidious." Vica snorted and made her way back to the couch and plopped herself down into it. Lazily sitting and sprawling her arms over the cushions.

"So, you can stand there looking indignant and watch me for the rest of the night as I do nothing. Or, get the kriff out. Your choice." Palpatine remained quiet. Probing through the Force at her walls. But, be it her own natural strength; which he firmly doubted, or her harboring of Sauron her defenses were as strong as mandalorian iron. His eyes danced over her figure as he fought to subdue his outward show of darkness. Forcing his eyes to return to a somewhat natural hue before long. Vica did nothing but watch him. A stang eating smirk along her face that sent ripples of anger through the Dark Lord. Before long Palpatine cast a glance outside. Remembering how late it was, before turning back to this malignant little witch Dooku had forced onto him.

"You would do well to watch yourself, girl."

"I do every chance I get." She grinned and eyes flashed in self gratification.

"Charming to the last." Palpatine scoffed and turned to leave. "I shall return." He paused before reaching the door and stared down the woman for a final moment. "You would be best to be gone by the time that happens. Else I will do everything I can to force you back into whatever corner of your mind Sauron happily keeps you pinned down in."

"I shiver in my robes!" Silence passed. Hateful glares matched. Finally Palpatine shook his head and made unhappy an exit from the apartment. Silence passing in his wake as only the dull thrum of the spire sounded and the hint of airspeeders outside.

...

Eyes remained fixed on the door, and smile plastered onto the face of Vica. Finally a sigh passed from her nose and she reclined back into the couch. Closing her eyes and running both hands through her shortened golden blonde streaks of hair. Parted to one side in the manner of her choosing.

"You do a terrible impression of me." These were the first words she had spoken to him in days.

"It was necessary." Was his inner response as he closed her eyes and the two once more stood in the darkness of their shared inner mind.

"For someone who is sharing too much with him you sure are picky about what you do share." She scoffed.

"You still don't understand a thing about what I'm doing."

"Mostly because you refuse to tell me. Have refused. You are making a mistake with those rings. You know it somewhere in that O so ancient head of mine we share." She shot back with a glaring look from her visage. "Why hide from him now? What about your little 'spirit' tricks did you not want to share?"

"It's not about what I didn't want to share, witch." Sauron addressed her. His voice booming and powerful as ever within the confines of their mind. "It's about making him believe what I want him to believe."

"Does that entail me knowing anything you seem to know?" Silence passed between them. Vica finally sighing after another moment of such. "Well that answers that." She shrugged. "When this blows up in your face, Sauron, don't mind me when I laugh in it at my leisure."

"We shall see. Ye of little faith."

Silence overcame them again. Though Sauron was loathe to admit he had grown to miss these meaningless conversations with the only one he had to converse with. Nevertheless, still baring the eyes and flippant outer mannerisms of Vica he rose to a stand and stretched loudly. Before twirling where he stood and made for the balcony.

Outside perched for who knows how long stood a lone hawk-bat. Held within its mouth a simple vial. One that brought a genuine unnerving smile to the face the Dark Lord wore.

---

Night was fast approaching this day. The spirit that now bore the name of Tercáunya had remained within the tower of Orthanc. Much had there been left to find in the remnants of the home of Saruman. As he had come to be known and call himself. Tercáunya still showed no visage or raiment like that of their kin. However, the stores of books, and lore kept their mind quite busy. The swooning sound of bark and wood outside as the ents slept, or moved about the waters and soothed new trees to come plant root into the soil was calming.

It was not only books though. As Tercáunya had also found what they guessed would be known as a 'secret passage' within the winding halls of the tower. Leading into a room where there were several crypts or chests with treasures that were mostly unknown to them. Though, among the trove they found two articles that fascinated them. One was a simple golden band that was connected to a golden case. It seemed made to hold something small and precious within it. Though it was otherwise nothing more than a golden chain. Likely of some worth and beauty to the mortal races.

The second item was far more interesting to Tercáunya. This one was similarly a silver-steel chain. Like that of a necklace as the first piece. Though it shone with a glittering and strong wonderment. Whilst the gemstone it held to it bound by the silver was wondrous more still. Within it a light seemed to burn brightly from within. A thing of natural beauty, as though a great gemstone of the elder days, for which Tercáunya had only seen portions of in the long days before. It would seem Saruman had made notes of these two items. Greedily hiding them away. The first was not of any importance to Tercáunya. The second though was known as the Elendilmir. Borne of the realm of Númenor. Worn of kings. Then lost, seemingly so, long ago. Now found Tercáunya held the thing with great reverence and care. It was beautiful, and they felt it deserved to be shown respect as such.

The reading of lore, and the finding of treasures passed much time. However, Tercáunya had yet to discover the pathways that had led Saruman to dissolve his alliance with that which was right. It still irked their mind to no end. How someone as seemingly wise as he could fall into the snare of worldly desires. There was beauty in golden trinkets and glittering silver. There was lure of command and power over the vast lands and peoples, but these things were the domain of those with great cynicism. So, Tercáunya believed.

"What had been shown to you?" They wondered in the silence of the blackened throne room of Orthanc. "Was power...is power such an allure? Can one descend so far for the mere notion of power? What is power if it be for power's sake? Does such a well have any bottom to it?" They continued to pose whilst their misty form remained sat upon the throne. Looking upon the nearby stand of stone where a malevolent distant echo of the past still called out. A thing of fire, and burning sight that carved deep through that who looked upon it. The silence they were met with was beyond frustrating. But, such questions burned in their mind and heart. The echoing warning of the Almighty's words growing louder, and then quieter with the passing of the long hours.

"Mighty Treebeard!" A voice cracked through the ruminations. The featureless being turned head to the nearby balcony and heard a voice. Small, gruff and mortal call out. Followed by a shuffling of massive trunk like legs through the waters.

"Mmmmm, visitors! And not the first in these long days!" Treebeard happily called through his groaning cadence. Tercáunya chose to listen, but made no move to rise.

"Truly? Then it is advantageous that we have come, mighty Treebeard. I am Erkenbrand, Marshal in service to my Lord, King Éomer of Rohan."

"Well met, young master!" Treebeard greeted kindly enough. "Welcome to you and your fellows to Isengard. It was not so long ago I met with your King Théoden. He rode with the White Wizard at the time."

"Aye. Alas, King Théoden fell in battle some weeks ago."

"Mmmmm, saddening news that." Treebeard and this man, Erkenbrand, exchanged pleasantries. Tercáunya still silently listening in. "I welcome the men of Rohan. Proven friends of the ents. Though I do beg to know why you have come?"

"I welcome your graciousness, Treebeard. I and my men have been tracking rather curious a storm."

"Oh?" Treebeard uttered as Tercáunya rose from the throne and moved as a wisp of wind nearer to the balcony and peered beyond it just enough to see a small host of men upon horseback. Upon flowing banners held by some of them were white horses dashing before a green canvas.

"Aye." Erkenbrand went on. "Rumors have spread from the west. Seen by many among the Westfold and the other lands between here and Rohan's borders. A storm of great fury rolled from over sea onto land. Losing not any strength. It has caused great fear among our people. Rumors have spread further still. Declaring the storm a herald of woe. A darkness set upon us as has just been dispelled from the east." Tercáunya felt themselves bristle in confusion. They had made no such effort to appear...harmful. Or, as a thing of woe. Surely they had noted the Men were scattered beneath them. They seemed in awe. Fearful? That was not something they had intended. Such fell news filled the vala with great sadness. And another sensation they were not used to. Was it fear? What had they to fear? They had done no wrong.

"Such a storm sounds frightening indeed. Though no such terrible storm has made its way here to Isengard, young master." Treebeard offered. Sounding quite earnest. So much so that Tercáunya was unsure if the ent was lying or simply being literal with this Marshal of Rohan?

"Truly? Alas then." Erkenbrand carried on. "We had followed the remnants of the storm waters and word from local farmers of its passing through the north. Have you not seen any such storm, Treebeard?"

"Hmmmm," The ent trailed with a long groan of strange noises common the ents. "No terrible storm has come through this way, young Master. Though we have been party to a calm mist of sorts."

"A mist?" Erkenbrand sounded cautiously curious. Though Tercáunya grew...agitated they believed the word would be. "What do you mean mist, Treebeard? If you don't mind my imposing such a question?"

"He means me!" The air crackled with the raw force of the still untrained utterance of power carried in Tercáunya's voice. The horses neighed, but did not scatter in fear. The skies rumbled like a crack of thunder, and the gray skies of this particular day seemed to hue darker. A slight precipitation of misty cool waters began to hazily drip water across the land.

"Unknown to me, why you have come. Misguided you and they must be." Tercáunya appeared as the featureless but human figure of crackling winds, water and electricity as before. Though their speech was still clearly untrained in the finer points, they felt confident enough to rebuke the words of a Marshal of Men.

"No reason have you come here!" Tercáunya continued. The men all staring with wide eyes and unsure manners. "Peaceful is the arrival! Peace be with the ents and with all. None have been ill-brought!" Tercáunya appealed their case, and the Marshal, the elder kin of the race of Men stared with gawking gaze up to the balcony Tercáunya resided upon.

"Hold!" Erkenbrand called, raising hand upwards as his men all bore worried glances, and some held close to them pike, spear and bow. "Well met...who might you be, Lord?"

"Hurauuum, this is one of the older masters, Erkenbrand of Rohan!" Treebeard spoke with a matter-of-fact long winded cadence. "They have come to me in kindness, and in peace. No ill has been brought to the crescent, but what you bring yourselves." Other among the ents began sharing sounds of displeasure or discomfort. The rumbling and vibrating tones echoed the valley and the horses once more grew restless with their riders.

"We bring no ill intent, nor ill will, mighty ents." Erkenbrand began. "Merely we wish to discover the truth of the storm!" He turned gaze up to the thunderous figure of Tercáunya. "Are you that storm? That which has instilled rumor and fear? Woe in the hearts of the people not only of Rohan but afar?"

"I am storm and cloud, mist and rain. I am the herald of flame, old and new." Tercáunya once more recalled the words of Eru, and their chosen name danced as a symphony of collected syllables. "Tercáunya is my name."

"Tercáunya?" Erkenbrand repeated. "And what does that mean?"

"It means me, man of Rohan!" The booming voice caused the sky to crack with thunder and the horses grew very restless. Some of them whirled upon hind legs and neighed with fear. "You come offering falsities that I am woe-herald?! It is not so! Come to learn, I am come to see! I am not waylaid, should not be waylaid! Am…" Tercáunya struggled to find the word. "I am on path!"

"Whoa," Erkenbrand grappled with his steed. "Path of what?"

"Discovery!" Tercáunya boomed. They raised their 'arms' outwards before them. A sound like a song lined with the heralding of mighty trumpets gave rise to a chorus of thunder. The skies danced above them and bolts of lightning danced above the gathered men and ents. Though the latter made no indication they feared such patterns of weather. For it was of the natural world. The bellowing sounds caused some of the men's horses to break at last. They called to one another, and grappled with their horses as they fled from the narrow path lined with fallen lumber and metal wheels. The Marshal cast weary and hard glare upon Tercáunya, but he too broke from his station. Following the disoriented rabble his men had become out from the crescent of Isengard beyond what had once been a gateway.

Before long they had fled beyond the walls, and the unknown vala to all but Treebeard and the ents ceased their song. The skies gave way and what had become dark frenzied clouds returned to the natural mistiness of the day.

"Hmmmm, few are the words in Entish or Men for such a sight, young Master." Treebeard spoke up to the vala. "Great care should be taken when such are spoken. Ill manner can lead to ill deed."

"I mean no ill, no woe. Dishonor me, shame me, cast fell name to me, they have. Alas it should be so." Tercáunya intoned. Unsure if the right choice had been made to force these men to flee. Though they felt no shame in pushing them away. Not only for upsetting the ents, but for upsetting them as well. Easy was it for the Men of the World to assume they knew the correct answer before any such answer had been given. For whatever purpose the question may be fore. And, Tercáunya owed these men of Rohan nothing.

"Hmmmm, a fair concern, young Master." Treebeard bowed his trunk-like body. "It is no place of mine to make you stay, or tell you to leave. Though welcome to remain I say you are, all the same." The ent intoned with the booming gruff of his voice. The vala, though baring no features could not help but smile in their own way at that.

"My thanks, mighty ent." They bowed as well. Though they did turn their vision out beyond the far walls of Isengard. The men lay there, Tercáunya was sure. As to their purpose they knew not, but unlike them, Tercáunya would not make rash and bold assumptions to them yet. Instead they turned and moved back inside the mighty walls of the fortress tower, and attempted to think of them no longer.

...

"What was that?!" One of the men howled as the others slowly brought themselves back together before the thickly tree laden plains before Isengard. The faint sounds of the huorns entering all ears as the trees whispered unknown words to themselves.

"I do not know." Erkenbrand boomed, catching everyone's attention. "Out from the forest!" He called and the men galloped after him through the thin openings the trees had made leading into Isengard. Coming to a stop just beyond them after a moments ride, in a patch of plains decimated by Saruman the White months prior.

"What are we to do, Marshal?" One asked.

"What can we do?!" Another began. "That...thing! It was able to shape the weather and skies! It is a living storm, the rest of you saw the same as I!" The others nodded, whispering their own realizations, fears and concerns.

"Quiet!" Erkenbrand grimaced and growled and all did as instructed. "What we do is we make camp! We await word from Lord Éomer. With any luck aid he will have sent reinforcements as well! Then we discover the nature of our quarry."

"Forgive me, Lord," One of the men began. "But, what then?"

"Then, if they are friend, we will know." Erkenbrand summed.

"And if they are not friend, sire?" Erkenbrand glared back towards the tower. The same tower that had bred so much ill and woe for Rohan in the last year and even before in secret. An old anger, and what the Marshal felt to be a righteous anger flowing within his veins.

"Then we will know. And, we will do what we can for Rohan, and our people."

Thus was the Marshal's solemn vow.

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L's Note: I think I got this one edited at a reasonable rate myself! This is a another wordy one. The action will come with time you action fans don't you worry. For now BASK IN THE GLORY OF LORD KUN'S PLOT! Ahem, lol. Anyways, I have edited this beforehand but I can always miss something. If you find something really bad lemme know or just ignore it and I'll get to fixing it. Otherwise please leave your reviews, they are always inspiring to Lord Kun!

To those of you who ask questions by the by, but are guest accounts I can only say answering those questions are a bit difficult. Needless to say if you wonder 'how' or 'why' something is happening or the same for a person and their actions...just wait and keep reading okay? If you can't handle it that's fine but the story is not gonna be so blatant as to what is happening before the right moments. No judgement or anger meant on my part, just saying everyone wait and see for the end results! :D

-L

Edit Note: Edited/Updated 8/16/2021