II. The Maia for hire!
The door of the tavern opened with a creaking sound and then a slam as it hit the wall. A tall warrior appeared in the frame, and fixed his gaze upon Melian at once as he started to speak, but more to himself, it appeared.
"Well, what have we here... An experienced Sorceress, level fourteen, great skill set, most excellent..." his eyes appeared to skip right to her chest. She bristled at the unwelcome attention again, jerking her head up so that the offending cowl would no longer be covering her eyes.
"Oh, Lady Melian", the newcomer had the good conscience to become flustered. A little. "Welcome to my humble abode, Nargothrond, the primary castle of our, uh, faction. As you must surely know, I am Knight Finrod, the primary war hero of the Red force. I must assure you we never fought anyone of your color in this war, and your faction was conquered solely by the Sons of Fëanor. Actually, with the war against the other factions – Morgoth, Fingolfin and Cirdan's pirates – going pretty well, I thought we might hire you to lead an army to wrestle Doriath from the Blue player. Here is the down payment-"
"Money? You are paying me money... for what?" she almost screamed at the incongruity of it all.
"As... a customary payment to any hero being hired to lead a force for a faction in the... liberation and unification of Beleriand. 2500 gold pieces, the standard rate. I realize that you are a little short on troops and have no artifacts to aid you whatsoever, because the sons of Fëanor have robbed you blind, so we're providing these", the King of Nargothrond continued glibly as a heavy pouch (big but nowhere near large and heavy enough to realistically hold twenty-five hundred coins, she noted subconsciously, though in this warped world everything looked possible) landed before her on the table with a slight clinking sound.
"Lord Finrod..." she mustered as much of her common sense before continuing. "Do you not realize how... strange and contrived everything around us is? Since when would the war against Morgoth turn so... odd? And you speak of fighting Fingolfin and Cirdan too; how come?"
"Lady, I... kind of fail to see anything out of order. Surely, you used to be in another faction before we hired you, but… there is nothing we can do now, your side has been vanquished completely. Stranger things had happened, anyway - it's the way the recruitment pool works. As for Cirdan's pirates... they were the first to attack our coast, they pilfered all the resources, impressed and drove away most of the creatures in the dwellings, and tried to wrestle Brithombar and Eglarest from us more than once! And after we chased them away, Fingolfin's forces breached through the passes in Ered Wethrin and tried to sack our towns again", Finrod was becoming uncharacteristically agitated. "I will not let it slide! But if you thought you would be better off fighting on Morgoth's front..."
"Well... no, at least not right now", Melian said hurriedly. Dealing with the Black Foe did not sound like a proposition she would be taking unprepared. And Finrod – if he was really the son of Finarfin she knew - was clearly in the thrall of the circumstances that governed this version of Arda, not seeing – like she did – the whole place becoming a strange parody of itself.
"Alright, we'll be outfitting your army within a few days. I have a few artifacts to pass over to you right now, though", the man spoke drolly, apparently oblivious to his new comrade's doubts and emotional turmoil.
"Who is that "we"?" she inquired habitually. By that point, she would not have been surprised to find someone like Haleth to be thrust into Finrod's company. In this warped version of her world, stranger things probably had happened.
"Why, Galadriel of course. She's running things in Tumhalad, and probably has forces to spare right now", the Lord of Nargothrond... er, the Red faction spoke.
At least, that detail has been consistent. Melian thought of her predicament, and decided that she had to see this through somehow. Try as she might, she was unable to order herself to wake up (at least, not convincingly enough for it to work), and there seemed to be no other way of breaking out until... probably until the victory. If Morgoth would be vanquished, and Doriath regained for her in the bargain... then she would be placated somehow. She only prayed to Eru that Thingol could be found and brought back into the fold without having to fight him.
The (former?) Maia looked on as Finrod laid a few items before her on the tavern table, which was well-worn and splintered with time, stained with what looked like beer – and adorned with a knife-carved inscription saying "Finduilas loves Niënor", of all things. There was a sword of excellent quality which seemed to radiate some kind of power; a similarly non-mundane jewelled bracelet; a large round pendant – saucer-sized and inscribed with a skull motif – as well as a pair of leather boots and, finally, another pouch, this one made of suede and tightly stopped with a drawstring. She had no idea what use she would have for any of those items – as only the blade and the boots had a self-evident function of any kind – but apparently these held some kind of value to Finrod, and therefore... to herself, now. Steeling herself, she asked about Thingol.
"No sight of him since Maedhros got him in Doriath. We haven't seen him work for any of the other factions, either – he could've turned up in the recruitment pool like you have, you know, but probably hasn't, not yet. Though we haven't yet gathered the full awareness of the map, so... everything's possible", Finrod shrugged. "Now, if you'd be so kind..."
She was. She had to do something, because there seemed to be no other way out of this absurd situation – except action. She started putting the items into her own backpack - she was not surprised to actually own one, and surely, there it was, beneath her bench. Must be the way this peculiar version of Beleriand worked, as she noticed that Finrod also was also carrying one (though its contents were anybody's guess).
Melian tried to fasten her cloak for the umpteenth time – to avoid flashing her breasts at the surrounding people, whoever they would be, once again – but only had so much success. Sighing deeply, she ventured out of the tavern – noticing that the "sprites" and the trio of dwarves from before all followed her – and into the sun of the bright day for the first time since... it all began.
Galadriel was already waiting outside, and at least she was looking like Melian had remembered her – lush golden hair, big blue eyes, though her face was looking a bit rounder – and the whole demeanor softer – than the angular, spirited Artanis she knew (and she was not dressing provocatively, either). The elven woman welcomed her politely, but somehow distantly, not like they knew each other well and shared a history between them. That was, frankly, difficult to bear, as the Maia was struck with a bolt of fear at thinking that even Thingol might not recognize her if they met. Especially with these new... feminine assets of hers. And the hair that somehow turned from black to reddish-brown, as she noticed at some point, but compared to the other changes, that one was almost insignificant.
"Do you... not remember me from before?" the Maia ventured, as tentatively and neutrally as she was able. Could Galadriel be also oblivious to their true shared history – the fact that Melian has been, Eru damn it all, her mentor for quite a few decades? That, and she was supposed to be married to Thingol's great-nephew, and residing in Doriath with her, not with her kinfolk out west, was she not?
"Well... we are all familiar with who you are, and you are well-known as a great hero. Welcome to the faction of Nargothrond. For what it's worth, it is good to have you in our faction rather than having to meet you on the battlefield", the Ñoldor woman responded, kindly but without displaying any special kind of friendly affection that – as Melian knew – they used to share. That was a tiny bit soothing but... entirely not what she had in mind. It looked like she was, too, unaware of the situation being... whatever it was, but far from normal.
Was Melian the only one who could sense the wrongness of it all? Or... if everyone around her did not, could that mean that it was she who was going insane after all?
Oh, to find that sanity is also relative.
Notes:
1. The "Finduilas loves Niënor" inscription is the homage to the many stories in the Silmarillion fanfiction writing that "fix" the Narn i Chîn Húrin somehow, including by "rescuing" these two characters... and sometimes getting them "romantically paired".
2. The artifacts presented by Finrod are the actual items from the game: Dragon Sword of Dominion (3 Attack Skill), Caster's Bracelet of Magic (2 Spell Power), Pendant of Life (makes the owner's troops immune to death spells), Endless Pouch of Gems (provides 1 unit of gems per turn) and Nomad Boots of Mobility (increases movement over land). All pretty good to very good items but at that point in the game, a decent player faction would probably have stockpiled a lot of great stuff...
