A/N: Day late, but not a dollar short! Enjoy! And Happy Halloween.
Chapter Nine
Trophies
"The deadliest of foes, the last men face, which only nine have conquered, and I first of all…" repeated Timothy over and over.
Gwethien was busy listing every dangerous creature she could think of, while Timothy and Mirumor shook their heads.
"Time!" shouted Timothy suddenly. "It's time! Or maybe death..."
Mirumor jumped to her feet. "It'll be in Black Speech, and there is only one word for time in Black Speech. There are seventeen words for death."
"What a strange riddle," mused Gwethien.
"Maybe to you," laughed Mirumor. "Your kind don't have to fear time!"
Mirumor spoke the proper word and with a rumble the stone door swung open. The air in the passage had the same eerie chill as the air in the armory they had visited the night before. Mirumor lit her candle and they began a descent down a spiral staircase of white marble. Timothy went first, followed by Mirumor, and then Gwethien.
"And here I was thinking all the black architecture was the scary stuff," muttered Timothy as they walked. "It's actually worse when it looks vaguely beautiful and still feels haunted!"
Suddenly Timothy felt a hand on his shoulder and heard whispers in Black Speech. With a terrified scream he tried to pull away and would have tumbled down the stairs had a second hand not grabbed him.
"Calm down, calm down!" said Mirumor through hysterical laughter. She had handed her candle to Gwethien and grabbed the poor scholar for comedic effect.
"Don't do that!" exclaimed Timothy when he could breathe again. "You go first!"
Mirumor took the lead and though she would never admit it, she soon learned Timothy was right; the narrow white marble staircase was quite unsettling, far more than even the armory had been. After what felt like a hundred feet of descending they came to an unmarked doorway - or so the mortals believed. Gwethien could see the label above the door: 'The Last Kings of the Edain.'
The door was unlocked and the three adventurers went through it. The mortals insisted Gwethien go first.
They stepped into a large octagonal chamber some fifty feet across made of the same white marble as the staircase. One of the eight walls, unbeknownst to them the eastern wall, contained in the center the door through which they stepped. In the middle of the open floor, upon a two foot tall dais, stood a black marble life size statue of a mighty king of men. He wore the crown of Numenor and in his right hand held a great mace while his left was empty but menacingly outstretched. It was not hard to guess who it must have depicted, but any doubt was laid to rest by the only part of the statue not made of the black stone: a golden ring with a red gem on its left hand. Mirumor knew the ring at once, for she had stolen the real thing from Barad-dûr. This was the Lord of the Nazgûl as he wished to be remembered.
After gazing in awe at the statue they noticed that each of the other seven walls around them contained a number of stone tables holding weapons, armor, and various other kingly artifacts. Looking higher they saw that in the center of each wall, raised four feet off the ground, there was a glass window perhaps three feet wide and eight high into a shallow coffin-like inset into the wall. In each there looked to be the body of a mighty warrior, preserved just as he had been on the day of his death.
At the sight of all this Timothy lost his nerve and turned to run. Gwethien grabbed him by the shoulders and held him still.
"The bodies aren't real, Timothy!" she claimed. "They are just illusions, trophies of the Nazgûl's own making. I promise you the scariest thing down here is me!"
Timothy calmed down and took a closer look around. To their right, on the northern side, were walls dedicated to the three final kings of the kingdoms of Arnor: Arvedui King of Arthedain on the northernmost wall with the last kings of Cardolan and Rhudaur to his left and right. To their left on the southernmost wall was Eänur, the final ruling king of Gondor in the Third Age. To either side of Eänur were kings which Timothy could not recognize, but Mirumor did: they were kings of southern lands - one of Umbar, and another from even further south.
Timothy went up to Eänur's wall and found that upon one of the stone tables sat a sword, and carved into the table was a label: 'The Sword of Anárion.' He went to take it but Gwethien counseled him against it, saying that only one with the right to take the sword, or with power enough to challenge the Nazgûl's sorcery, should try to take treasure from this place. Timothy then went to the westernmost wall, which had been mostly hidden from view when the entered.
The western wall contained nothing within the glass nor on the tables, but upon examination Timothy saw the tables were already marked.
Timothy began reading to labels. "Narcil, The Scepter of Anuminas, The Ring of Barahir, the Crown of Gondor … Aragorn! This was supposed to be Aragorn!"
"That would have been his final victory," said Mirumor.
"And had the hobbits been caught, our great king would have been just another trophy for the wraith," added Timothy.
On that somber note the three adventurers left the Hall of the Nazgûl's Triumphs, passed through the record chambers, and out of the tower, closing the doors behind them.
The sun had already set when Gwethien, Mirumor, and Timothy returned from their adventure deep within Minas Morgul. After a hot meal they went to their rooms to sleep.
"Are we sneaking anywhere tonight?" yawned Timothy.
Mirumor shook her head no. They were both exhausted. They slept through the night, though both had terrible dreams. The next morning as they prepared for the return journey Thorongil came striding up to them looking rather pleased with himself.
"The orcs of Cirith Ungol will think twice about sending anyone into the tunnel for a while, even if Shelob does probably get credit for my work," he proclaimed proudly.
"Welcome back; it is so good to see you safe and sound," said Gwethien, genuinely glad he was safe only because he stood between her and Elerína, who she feared more than he.
Timothy couldn't help laughing a bit under his breath. Gwethien heard and stared at him with a look that froze his heart.
Thorongil turned suspiciously to the vampire. "I hope Gwethien has been amicable in my absence."
"We couldn't have succeeded without her!" answered Timothy, both because Gwethien had been helpful and he didn't want the vampire any more upset with him. "I would be happy to work with her again."
"Good, good!" said Thorongil. "Well, I should find the commander of this tower and tell him what happened."
"What did happen?" asked Mirumor, gesturing at Thorongil's bloodsoaked armor.
"Oh nothing much," replied Thorongil, whose false modesty was pathetically unconvincing. "I snuck into Cirith Ungol, interrogated some orcs, then decided to set fire to their alcohol. They were not at all pleased with that last bit, so about one hundred chased me into Shelob's lair. I led them to a dead end tunnel, jumped up into a crevice in the ceiling to let them them all run past me, then dropped down and had them all trapped. I can see why Shelob likes that place!"
"You expect us to believe you killed one hundred orcs, alone?" chuckled Mirumor.
"You may believe whatever you wish," laughed Thorongil, turning to leave them.
Timothy looked around to make sure no one else was nearby. "Before you go, there is something I need to tell you."
Thorongil turned back.
Timothy pointed up at the central tower. "There is a chest in the armory up there labeled 'plague.'"
"What were you doing in the armory?" asked Thorongil.
Timothy turned pale. "That is an excellent question! I would prefer you didn't ask it."
Thorongil turned to the sorceress. "Mirumor, give me your pack."
"I object to this unwarranted..." was as far as she got before Gwethien stepped menacingly up to her, licking her fangs.
"Here," moaned the sorceress as she handed over the bag she carried.
"Don't reach in there, you might poke yourself," she added, deciding that might help her case.
Thorongil drew out not one but two Morgul Blades wrapped in black cloth. He unwrapped one and examined it closely.
Thorongil looked threateningly at Mirumor. "I have always wanted to see one of these in action."
Gwethien laughed and Timothy gasped. Mirumor shuffled backwards until she hit a wall.
Thorongil held the blade under her chin. "They say even a scratch from one of these will eventually kill you - or worse, depending on which stories you believe. Did you have anyone in particular in mind when you took them?"
"No!" squeaked the sorceress. Fortunately that was the truth, because she found herself unable to lie. "One to study, one to wear in place of my dagger."
Thorongil was satisfied with her answer. "The next time you take something like this without asking, I'll test it on you!"
"I presume that if I tell you now about the crossbow I stole, you won't shoot me with it?" whispered Mirumor meekly.
"Crossbow?" exclaimed Thorongil. He lowered the Morgul Blade from her neck. "Where is that hidden?"
"Timothy's pack," she sighed.
Timothy was not at all pleased. "My pack! Do you know how much trouble I could have gotten into?"
"Well I certainly do now," said Mirumor.
Thorongil took Timothy's pack and pulled out a tiny crossbow. It was made of black metal, about sixteen inches long and a foot wide. It held a single dart with a hollow tip for poison.
Thorongil forgot his wrath as he marvelled at the weapon in his hands. "We should go to the armory."
The garrison commander was loath to let him go up to the armory, but Thorongil was insistent. The man claimed that the key for that dreadful room was in Minas Tirith, but Thorongil said he could get in. Eventually the commander relented, though he insisted on escorting them up. As they came to the black door it dawned on Mirumor and Timothy that it would be unlocked, and it might become known that they had broken in.
"I'll handle this," said Thorongil stepping ahead of the officer of Gondor and kneeling before the door. He whispered something from his native tongue into the lock and opened the door, much to the man's amazement. Tim and Mirumor sighed in relief, both sure that Thorongil had also realized the impending awkward situation. Upon seeing the door opened and feeling the chill air the officer took leave of them and returned to his office lower down in the tower.
"You'll have to teach me that one," giggled Mirumor.
"The words are 'it's already open,' and it works in your tongue as well," laughed Thorongil.
Timothy pointed out the chest labeled 'plague.' Thorongil gingerly examined the outside of the heavy looking box.
"Lockpicks!" demanded Thorongil. Mirumor unrolled her cloth bound tools and offered them to the maia.
"If I yell run, you run," said Thorongil gravely. The two mortals nodded.
It took Thorongil only a minute to open the chest. Within it they saw small racks of glass vials containing black liquids. They were labeled in Black Speech.
"Gwethien, you are remaining here," commanded Thorongil. "I'll send Elerína to deal with this. I won't risk moving this chest."
Thorongil returned the Morgul Blades to their rack but clipped the small crossbow to his own belt and collected some extra ammunition.
Timothy once more admired the suit of armor in the style of the Numenorean kings of old. "Do you think you could break whatever curse the Witch-King placed on that?" he asked, pointing to the beautiful mithril and gold.
"You're not a warrior," replied Thorongil perplexed.
"For Aldamir," said Timothy. "He has always been so generous to me."
Thorongil considered his request for a moment. "We'll have to ask the King if you can keep it."
"He gets a whole suit of armor and I can't have a tiny crossbow," complained Mirumor.
Thorongil smiled. "He asked."
"May I please have the crossbow?" asked Mirumor, imitating Gwethien's tone around Thorongil. The vampire was none too pleased with such mocking and hissed at her like a cat in displeasure.
Thorongil unclipped the weapon from his belt. "Only if you now work for me."
Mirumor hesitated. On one hand, Thorongil did not seem to approve of theft or murder, not to mention that he had threatened to kill her with a Morgul Blade forty minutes prior. On the other hand, Mirumor did not have much respect for anyone who hadn't threatened to kill her, and staying on the right side of the law had its advantages so long as the business was profitable. Furthermore, Thorongil was powerful enough to frighten Gwethien and seemed to have sorcerous powers he might be willing to teach. Lastly,and this quickly dominated her calculus, she really wanted that crossbow.
"We'll need to work out the details of such an arrangement," she replied.
Thorongil nodded in agreement, but put the crossbow back on his belt.
While Gwethien remained to guard the chest the other three set off for Minas Tirith. It was late at night when they arrived in The White City, but Thorongil brought Timothy with him to report to the King. After explaining that Ingacarca was most likely alive, Timothy shyly asked His Majesty about the armor he wanted for his friend.
"What were you doing in the armory?" asked the King curiously.
Timothy froze in fear. Thorongil laughed heartily.
"That is an excellent question!" the maia answered, quoting Timothy. "We would prefer if you not ask it."
Aragorn leaned back in his throne and rolled his eyes. "Very well. You are asking for a mighty gift, Timothy."
The scholar lowered his head in defeat. "Yes Your Majesty..."
"And yet who among your servants would dare retrieve it, or wear that which Sauron forged for his deadliest servant?" interrupted Thorongil with a cunning smile. "I do not see that it has much value to you unless I take it…"
"You always have an answer, don't you?" chuckled the king. "One day I will catch you without a good response ready."
"Melkor used to say that all the time," smiled the old general. "Look where that got him."
Aragorn laughed merrily. "I will give the armor to you, and you may give it to whomever you wish. My daughter wants a favor from you, please consider her request."
"Yes Sir," nodded Thorongil. He and Timothy left the throne room and walked out into the Fountain Court where Elerína was waiting for them under the stars.
Elerína rushed to embrace her husband but stopped just short of him upon seeing the blood stains on his armor. "Welcome home! I presume you were successful, and from the looks of it you had a good time."
"I'm getting stronger," he smiled. "One hundred seventeen kills and not a scratch. But I think Timothy had even more fun; he broke into the armory at Minas Morgul."
"He what?" exclaimed Elerína.
"Traitor," muttered Timothy as Thorongil cackled to himself.
"Well you see, Mirumor broke in and I sort of… followed her…" explained Timothy.
Elerína was not impressed. "Oh, so it's her fault?"
"No, but..." stammered poor Timothy.
"Don't worry, I know who's fault it is!" smiled Elerína. "Clearly my husband is a terrible influence on you."
"Absolutely - and much more fun," Thorongil nodded. "It's a good thing they did, because they found vials of plague. You and I need to deal with it. The sooner the better!"
"We can go first thing tomorrow," said Elerína.
The next morning Elerína and Thorongil rode to Minas Morgul, where Elerína unveiled her power and cleansed the Witch-King's vials of disease. They returned late the next night with Gwethien and the armor Timothy wanted to give Aldamir.