Prompted by Tar-Palantir, I have considered taking up some sort of hobby. As he undoubtedly correctly points out, I do not really do much during the day aside from writing and more writing. To be fair, as someone who has been a scribe for the vast percentage of my life that should probably only be expected by him. Still, I am touched that he is concerned about my entertainment and the like.
I have already decided that I will not be able to pick up any overly physical hobby, if I do indeed take up a new hobby. Hunting is definitely right out. I have never quite been comfortable with taking the life of any beast or man, I do not intend to try and make myself more comfortable. In addition, I would have no one to hunt with, for Tar-Palantir doesn't hunt.
For similar reasons, it is unlikely that I will start jousting or competing in tourneys, which often end in bloodshed. Also, I am becoming an old man at this point, and I doubt, even if I somehow gain the physique required to fight, that I would ever be fight or dexterous enough to actually fight. This eliminates fencing and, due to the extreme strength requirement, archery.
I considered taking up a trade next. Pottery is something that I actually enjoyed, despite its inherent messiness, although I doubt you could say that I am good at it (it was nice of Tar-Palantir to say that he liked my pottery, though). I don't really enjoy most other forms of artwork. The skill required to successfully paint seems to have escaped me, and at this age I doubt I shall ever recapture.
Blacksmithing probably requires too much strength, and I'd rather not be an assistant, only there for the purpose of pumping the bellows. Being a cooper seems as though it would be interesting, although I can't say I would have many drinks to put in my barrels. As a general rule, I do not drink (which pretty much eliminates being a brewer). I would not want to be a cobbler or a candle maker. I mean no disrespect to the people who actually have those jobs, but I simply cannot see such a job as exciting.
I even tried to get interested in a game, such as Scachen or a game of chance. However, gambling doesn't interest me, and I, once more, have no one to play those games with. I lack the talent to play an instrument, so even that choice is out.
In the end, I doubt I will actually pick up any hobby, regardless of how much Tar-Palantir urges me to do so. I enjoy what I do and there are always more things to write about, as my many journals have proven.
-From the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr
Parthekos was rudely awakened by Fulazuntê shaking him awake. He sat up suddenly, confused about where he was. Then, he remembered. Fulazuntê gave him a wicked grin and held a bowl out in front of her. Inside the bowl was a dark liquid. "Here. Drink this," she commanded.
"What is it?" he inquired.
"We call it ologalazjî. The drink frees yer mind and will make it easier for ya to complete the Trial."
Parthekos was somewhat surprised by Fulazuntê's openness, so he dared to ask another question. "What is this Trial?"
Fulazuntê's grin widened. "Our shamans are adept at peering into minds that have been opened by ologalazjî. They will see into yers and determine if you are worthy. If ya are, then ya c'n stay with us and preach to the few idiots who might listen to ya."
"And if I'm not found worthy?"
"Our shaman will set a punishment for you. Now, drink!"
Parthekos did as he was told. The drink was very bitter, and he nearly coughed it all back up. It burned on the way down and boiled in his stomach. His body temporarily felt as though it was on fire, as though the ologalazjî was trying to claw his way out. He felt nothing but sharp pain and emptiness. Then it was gone, replaced by emptiness.
Suddenly, he felt as though his mind was expanding, contracting, and then expanding again. His vision began to go in and out of focus and he heard noises that weren't there. He felt as though he could almost sense Fulazuntê. No, that wasn't right. He felt as though he could sense her soul.
Fulazuntê, seeing that the ologalazjî had begun to take affect, ushered Parthekos out of his tent and into the early light. Although the dim dawn light combined with the effects of the drink made it hard for Parthekos to see his way, he was able to make his way to the center of the camp without relying on Fulazuntê's help.
The entire camp was assembled there, including the gohil. They were seated in a circle around a large decorated chair and an orc dressed in a ceremonial costume. Fulazuntê lead Parthekos over to the chair and sat him down in it. The man began talking. Parthekos was having difficulty understanding him, but he tried his hardest.
"I am Azinologa, shaman of the mallo noslon. I am going to ask you a series of questions. I will know if you are lying. Do you understand?"
Parthekos nodded, not trusting himself to talk under the influence of the drink quite yet.
Azinologa's eyes seemed to burn. "Good. We will start off with a simple question and get progressively harder and harder."
In the circle, the orcs had begun chanting and playing various drums and horns. The resulting sound was actually rather unnerving, sounding like some kind of massive storm. It only continued to overload Parthekos's senses, which were already reeling from the ologalazjî. Azinologa asked his first question, screaming to be heard "What is your name?"
"I am Parthekos Brannonion!" he shouted back.
Azinologa nodded. "I'm glad you told the truth, Parthekos. Once you have taken the first step, everything becomes much easier." Frowning, Parthekos realized the truth of the shaman's words. He had begun to feel relaxed, and he didn't care about trying to look good for the trial. To the shaman, his mind must have been even further open than before.
Azinologa asked his next question. "What is your job?"
"I am a priest of the god Azao. My job is to convert the orcs of the Orocarni Mountains."
"Why are you here?" Azinologa was staring at Parthekos, focusing hard on him. Parthekos felt a bit perturbed by the orc's menacing gaze. He struggled to find his voice at first prompting Azinologa to shout at him. "Answer!"
"I told you," he responded crossly. "I am here to convert the orcs."
"You lie!" crowed Azinologa. The music turned ominous and threatening. "I give you one more chance! Why are you really here?"
Parthekos hung his head. "I am here to escape."
"Good. Escape what?"
"The Yasugi plans to attack my temple and leave no survivors." Before Azinologa could interrupt with another question, Parthekos launched into an explanation about the system of ranks in the Azaon church to explain what exactly a "Yasugi" was. He hoped that revealing this information would end his trial. However, the music did not stop; Azinologa asked another question.
"Why did you come here?"
Parthekos was confused. "What do you mean?"
'You did not have to flee to our lands," Azinologa explained. "You could have gone anywhere else. Why did you choose here?"
Parthekos did not reply immediately as he was not entirely sure why he had either. At last, he responded, "Because the Yasugi told me to."
"The same man who intended to betray you?" Azinologa asked, not believing the man despite what his shaman powers were telling him.
"I-I must follow my god. He teaches to respect those who command above you."
Parthekos heard a snorting sound from one of the orcs and say that it was Fulazuntê. Realizing that she had been found, she gave him another one of her grins and was silent. Azinologa was also silent, pondering what he had heard. The music slowed and became more like a complex heartbeat. Finally, Azinologa realized what he needed to ask. "By your mind, I can tell that you are not Kirran. You are not Rochanach, and you are not Lax'yzen. Where do you come from, and why did you go to Hyarragash?"
Parthekos answered willingly. "I come from the Vale in Gondor. I left there because my father was killed."
From these answers, though they were incomplete, Azinologa saw new regions of Parthekos's mind and understood why he was here; perhaps better than Parthekos himself did. He turned away from Parthekos to face his entire tribe. "After putting Parthekos Brannonion through the Trial of Trust, I now pronounce him worthy. Let all rejoice!"
Many orcs hooted and hollered in his favor, though some also booed. Worst of all, some orcs were dead silent, staring at Parthekos and judging him for themselves. Parthekos was surprised and mildly pleased to find that Fulazuntê was among the cheering crowd. However, he noticed that the gohil wasn't.
The shaman approached Parthekos carrying a bowl and a knife. Parthekos peered at the objects curiously. "What are those for," he asked wearily. The trial, short though it was, had been intense and quite tiring.
"You have yet to official pass until you are marked with the symbol of our tribe." Although the explanation wasn't complete, Parthekos understood what was needed without any more. Noticing his apprehension, Azinologa, much nicer toward Parthekos now that he had been tried, added, "the ologalazjî should help dull the pain." Then, before anything else could be said or done, he quickly dashed the knife over Parthekos's cheek, marking what looked like a stylized "Æ".
The ologalazjî definitely helped. The shock did not overwhelm Parthekos, like it would have otherwise. However, he still screamed like a newborn babe. Azinologa collected what blood he could in his bowl, then walked off whistling.
Fulazuntê approached him, her attitude utterly different than before. "I always knew ya could make it, man!" she said excitedly, slapping him the back. "Looks like you're part of the mallo noslon now. Here let me introduce you to everyone…"
Parthekos let Fulazuntê's words wash over him. He was too tired to focus on them right now. For now, he was just glad that his ordeal was finally over. He also felt a spark of excitement inside himself, ready to ignite his currently dormant religious fervor. Tonight, it appeared, they would celebrate. Tomorrow, however, he was ready to begin.
Say what you will about orcs, but they definitely know how best to throw a party. Parthekos, who was admittedly hardly a party veteran, was utterly overwhelmed by the festivities. Everywhere, orcs were unashamedly drinking, feasting, playing, dancing, and loving. There was music here too, though it was far more festive and uplifting than the chant from earlier. The whole affair was nearly as much of an assault upon Parthekos's senses as the ologalazjî.
It was a little too much for the poor Man, who had already suffered quite a day. He retired to his tent, though was unable to sleep until much later, due to the noise. However, eventually he did, and he did so excitedly, hoping for tomorrow.
When Parthekos awoke, the first thing he felt was a burning sensation in his cheek. He reached up to it and was surprised to feel wetness there. He pulled his hand away and gasped, seeing the blood that was there. He struggled to remember how he could have gotten cut there. His memories of yesterday were very fuzzy, and he only had a dim recollection of what had transpired.
"Yeah, that's probably gonna sting for some time," said a voice from within his tent. Parthekos suddenly sat up right, startled by the noise. In a rush, all the memories of yesterday came back to him.
"Uhhh," he groaned. "Who are you?" Now that he was properly awake, he could make out the vague silhouette of a female orc. She was wearing a simple leather tunic and had several tattoos on her arms and legs. She was grinning widely in a familiar way.
"Yuv met my sister before," she hinted.
"Fulazuntê?" he said disbelievingly.
"That's her! I'm her sister, Higulilû!" the orc said in a bright and cheery voice. Parthekos peered into the darkness of the tent, trying to make out more details of her face. "Oops, my mistake," she said. "I always forget that you humans can't see that well in the dark." Higulilû turned around and opened up a flap of Parthekos's tent, allowing the morning sun to stream in. Now that Parthekos could see her better he saw the obvious resemblance between Higulilû and Fulazuntê.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
"Well, as a new member o' the tribe, ya need someone ta show you 'round. I've been assigned ta that duty. The first thing you need to do, of course, is get dressed. Not in the silly robes you were wearing when you arrived, though. Those'd never do out here." Higulilû tossed him a bundle of clothing. "Put these on," she commanded. "You're one of us now, so you were our clothing."
Parthekos quickly did as he was told, shedding his robes and other garments in favor of the new orc clothing. It fit him surprisingly well, and was of a very sturdy, yet comfortable, quality. When he was dressed to her satisfaction, Higulilû spoke again. "Now, the next thing ya need to do is eat. The hunters have brought back some food already, so we'll have some of that."
Parthekos felt a momentary pang of panic. "Don't I have some time to perform my daily routines?" he asked.
Higulilû leaned in with a deadly serious expression on her face. "Look, kid," she said sternly. "Perhaps you didn't grasp this yet, but you're not in Hyarragash or in Kirranmar anymore. You're in Rhoneregurgigan, and you're going to act like it. From now on, ya follow a new routine, and you follow me. Are we solid."
Parthekos nodded dumbly. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. The routines were the most important part of being a priest of Azao. Without them, he was nothing! However, he steeled himself. He knew that converting the orcs would not be easy. He knew that it would require sacrifices. This was just one more. He would not let the orcs compromise his identity.
"Good," Higulilû said, satisfied with the response she got. "Now, let's go get some food."
The food was being served by several older orcs in the center of the camp. As Parthekos had expected, it was mostly meat, but there was a surprising amount of vegetables there as well. Higulilû helped serve his food, and they sat down together with a group of orcs that were about Higulilû's age. She introduced him all. "Parthekos, these are my clan mates, Urgûpergel, Kalatavê, and Wilazûrûzj. Urgûpergel, Kalatavê, and Wilazûrûzj, this is our new member, Parthekos.
Urgûpergel was a small, yet thin orc, with a hairy face, chest, and feet. His name literally meant "Orc-hobbit", so the hair and size made sense. Urgûpergel was sitting down and sharpening a knife. He had at least three more in his belt. He wasn't wearing a shirt, like most of the male orcs, and some of the female orcs, in the camp. He grunted a greeting at Parthekos.
Kalatavê scowled at him. She was a tall, pale-skinned orc that clearly didn't take well to new people. She was busy knitting together a garment of some kind. Parthekos wondered briefly were the orcs had gotten yarn from. "Hello, Parthekos," she said in a cool voice. "I hope you are doing well," she said in a voice that said she hoped no such thing.
"I am, thank you," responded Parthekos, trying to keep his irritation out of his voice, though by the satisfied look on Kalatavê's face he suspected he had failed.
The last person, Wilazûrûzj, looked at Parthekos with a thoughtful expression on his face. He spoke in a very quickly. "Hello, Parthekos, as Higulilû has told you my name is Wilazûrûzj. I am the chief, well technically the only member of the scribes of this tribe. I look forward to working with you."
"What do you mean?" inquired Parthekos.
Higulilû spoke before Wilazûrûzj could. "Every orc in the tribe has a job, whether it is hunter," she paused and pointed to Urgûpergel, "weaver," she pointed to Kalatavê, "or scribe. You have been assigned to scribe."
Parthekos was disappointed. "When will I have time to preach?" he asked.
"After we eat our evening meal, during your free time. Now, eat your breakfast and then follow Wilazûrûzj."
Parthekos did as he was told, then looked at Wilazûrûzj expectantly. Parthekos was undoubtedly a better writer than most of the orcs here were, and luckily the script of the orcs wasn't too different from Westron.
"Right then, let's go," said Wilazûrûzj. He walked off, and Parthekos followed behind him.
Liriel woke up and was ready in a flash. Today was the day; they were finally heading in. Guband and Pazij were also ready. Liriel couldn't help but see them in a different light now that she knew. She was a little bitter that her friends had been keeping secrets from her, and she wasn't going to forget about it. However, she realized that they thought they were in the right, and now definitely wasn't the time for tension in their group.
The three women met up with Turondo right in front of the hole in the ground. He made a gesture and raised his fist into the air, while saying "Shutvordembo!" in a loud voice. "That will protect us from the presence down there," he said as an explanation.
Liriel nodded. "Good. I don't want to ever feel that way again," she said, shuddering at the very thought of having to feel that way.
Turondo spoke again. "Before we go down, I feel that I should cast a few more spells."
"I don't see why not," Guband said. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to create a ball of light that will make it easier for us to see once we are deeper down there. I will also ward you three with another spell that makes it harder to be injured. I would be deeply ashamed if any of you three came to harm down there."
He took a deep breath and made a few more gestures, then said, "Langicht! Audergefaz!" A bright light shone briefly from his palm before dimming. "That should do it," he said with a look of satisfaction. "Also, as a warning I have a limited amount of divine energy that I can cast before I rest, so we must use my magic sparingly."
Pazij nodded. "We have similar limitations, although admittedly Primatic magic isn't quite as well understood as Divine."
"Are we all ready?" Guband asked.
"I think so," Liriel responded. Guband nodded, then signaled for four of the excavators to attach ropes to their harnesses. Another excavator made sure that their harnesses were on properly, while a fifth one secured their belongings in a large back that Turondo would be carrying. He also attached a rope to it to be lowered along with the others.
The excavators had at first tried to widen the whole so that all of them could go down at once with their stuff. Technically, with the diameter of the hole they could do that, but it would be tight, uncomfortable, and with a great risk of danger. However, the karthal blocked most of their attempts, though they were able to widen it in some areas. As a result, they were being lowered down in pairs, with the belongings coming down last.
The first pair up was Liriel and Turondo. The excavators signaled to them asking if they were ready. They replied that they were, waited to make sure that the excavators understood, then jumped into the whole. Almost right away, they were caught by the ropes and were then slowly lowered down the hole. Turondo's light followed them, illuminating every single crevice and crack along the way. Finally, they reached the bottom. They undid their harnesses and dropped onto the floor
Liriel's heart began to beat faster, expecting the feeling she had experienced earlier to return. However, it seemed that, for now at least, Turondo's spell was holding up and she felt normal. Now that a strong light illuminated the tunnel, Liriel could see that it was not a tunnel at all, but a corridor of the Swazverai. Liriel wrinkled he nose in disgust as she realized that Turondo's spell couldn't block out the physical rot of the tunnel.
As though they were thinking in unison, Turondo cast another spell, saying "Shutvorfaln!" At once, the awful smell disappeared. "Much better," he said, with an air of satisfaction. Soon afterwards, Pazij and Guband were lowered down, soon to be followed by their belongings. Because Turondo had put his armor and sword in his belongings, after they undid their harnesses, everyone had to wait while he got equipped.
Liriel spoke suddenly. "Hey, wasn't the point of sending you down first to protect us?"
"Yeah, why do you ask?" Turondo responded as he put on his breastplate.
"How can you do that without your sword and stuff?"
Turondo smiled. "I have been trained in several forms of martial arts. Any threat to you, I could have incapacitated."
"Even The Swarm?" interjected Pazij with an "I got you" look on her face.
Turondo hesitated briefly before answering, looking to Guband for support. Seeing that he would get none, he did his best to answer. "Well, having never actually countered The Swarm before, I don't know how well my martial skills would work, although in my experience most creatures find having their neck snapped to be fatal. However, I am sure that my magic could accomplish something that even my sword probably couldn't"
"All right," Pazij admitted. "That's a good point."
"Shall we begin?" asked Liriel.
"Yes, let's," said Guband.
"Wait a minute," Turondo demanded. "Where are we going?"
"We need to find a way down," Pazij responded.
"Can't Liriel just make a hole in the ground?"
"No," snapped Guband. "We tried, but the ground is too thick for her to do it in under a day, and at that point we might as well call down the excavators."
"Why don't we do that?"
"For the same reason we didn't bring soldiers with us," she said in a tone that brooked no further discussion. "Now come on, let's go!"
She began walking down the corridor and the others had no choice but to follow her. Guband was a tall woman, so her stride was long and the others, even Turondo had to walk fast to keep up with her. Hopefully, they would reach an area were they could descend further into to the temple.
For the first few hours, they walked along without any trouble. They stopped briefly to have a short meal, and then they were on their way again. However, as they started up, they ran into their first problem.
"Sweet Xulping," whispered Turondo. There, right in front of them, was a part of The Swarm. None of them had ever encountered anything from The Swarm before, but these things fit the description perfectly. All the reports said that there were many different beings that made up the swarm, but they all shared one thing: they looked like undead. The most common member of The Swarm were said to be literally nothing beyond corpses that had been brought back to life in some foul manner. Here, the four of them saw that they were most certainly undead.
There were four of them, and they shambled down the corridor towards Liriel and the others. Pazij stepped out in front. "Let me handle them," she said confidently. She raised her palm up and, concentrating hard, breathed outwards toward the corpses. Suddenly, a huge jet of fire spurted from her palm, incinerating the four corpses instantly. Liriel and the others, who had never seen such a display before, were wowed by Pazij's magic.
However, the effort of such a spectacle exhausted Pazij, and she nearly fainted. "I won't be able to pull of a trick like that again," she said tiredly.
"That's all right," Liriel said soothingly. "It'll be one of our turns next."
They continued walking on, although they were growing more and more discouraged. They hadn't seen a single way down or even another corridor branching off of this one. They hadn't even seen any rooms in this corridor! However, Liriel tried to take an optimistic approach and reminded herself that this would make it easy for them to find their way out.
"Looks like we've got trouble again!" called Guband. In front of them was another monster from the Swarm.
"Looks like a ghast," said Turondo. Liriel nodded, agreeing with his assessment. Ghasts were creatures that were stronger than the average corpse. They were rumored to have a few powers beyond that as well, although none had been able to confirm this. However, there were relatively few ghasts compared to the number of corpses.
Guband stood in front of the others and readied her magic. She blasted several puffs of air at the ghast. However, the ghast was faster and stronger than she expected. Although the air seemed to ignore, it was able to come close and touch Guband before she could blast it back. Right at that moment, they realized another power that ghasts have. Guband was frozen, paralyzed by the ghast's touch.
Liriel realized what she had to do. "Turondo, protect me!" she commanded. Turondo obeyed instantly, charging at the ghast. The ghast's touch was ineffective against his armor, so the ghast was forced to attempt to rip it off while dodging Turondo's sword. Meanwhile, Liriel knelt down and pressed her fist to the ground. She closed her eyes. She had never done something like this before, and needed all the concentration she could get.
She reached out with her mind, feeling where the ghast was walking on the corridor. She felt where its feet were and pulled the ground up to meet them, rooting the ghast in place. The ghast moaned in frustration. That was the easy part, Liriel knew. What came next was the hard part. Sensing the ghast, she willed the ground to became part of the ghast. Slowly, inch-by-inch, the ghast was transformed into rock. The screams went on until the rock reached its heart. Liriel opened her eyes to find Turondo and Pazij staring at her in horror. She ignored them; this was not the time for that.
She looked over at the still frozen Guband. "Heal her!" she said to Turondo. He walked over to Guband and performed one of his spells, saying, "Entfermung!"
Guband, not realizing what had happened, blasted some more air before finally realizing that the ghast had paralyzed her. She looked around and saw that Pazij was still exhausted, Liriel was exhausted from transforming the ghast, Turondo was exhausted from healing her, and that she was exhausted from fighting the ghast. "Why don't we rest here?" she suggested. Everyone agreed that that was a marvelous idea and set up camp. Tomorrow, they were determined to descend a level.
Altariel woke up and saw that Sam was already up and was busy cooking breakfast. She yawned and rose from her makeshift bed, causing Sam to turn towards her. "Glad to see that you are awake, Altariel. Can I call you that?" he asked nervously. Altariel yawned again.
"Of course, Sam. There's no need to stick to formality while we are on the run."
"Good," he said cheerfully. "Well breakfast is ready. Eat, and then tell me what you might have figured out."
Sam turned out to be a good cook even going by Hobbit standards, which meant that the meal Altariel eat could have been something served in Valmar. She ate rapidly, not having had anything to eat since last night. Sam, if possible, ate even faster, since as far as he was concerned missing a meal was coming close to starvation. Once, they were finished, Altariel filled him in on her suspicions about the source of the problem being Angmar.
Sam was doubtful, to say the least. "The Witch-King is dead, Altariel. Merry saw him die with his own eyes. Angmar can't be the source of our problems."
Altariel was stubborn and refused to let up. "What if he wasn't the only thing at Angmar, though? What if there was something else there that was leading him and letting him do all the work? That thing might still be there. I have a suspicion that whatever's there is making people commit those murders. I'm also willing to bet it sent those assassins after us."
Sam wasn't wavering. "All this is just your suspicion, though. I have no one of knowing if this is true. I can't do anything based off this information."
Altariel sat in silence, knowing that he was right. Then, she had an idea. "What if we went to Angmar," she suggested. "Then we could find out for certain."
"That seems pretty dangerous to me," said Sam. "The only weapon we have is your sword."
Altariel got angry. "Are you implying that my sword and my skills aren't enough to keep us safe? This sword is an elven one, and one of the best at that. Celembrimbor himself forged it. And I am one of the best swordfighters in the North."
Sam cowered a bit under her wrath. "All right, all right, I didn't mean to insult you. We can go up there right now if it makes you feel so much better, then."
Altariel nodded in satisfaction. "Good."
They left the safe house, which Altariel made sure was locked up tight. They then began the trip north to Carn Dûm; the capitol of Angmar Altariel knew that it would be a long journey to the North, so she made sure to bring plenty of supplies. Even then, they came very close to running low on food.
The weather was also very, very cold, which meant that they had to build large fires in order to survive the night. Travel was made difficult by the many snows that fell, and by the bitter cold. Luckily, Altariel had also thought to bring several layers of clothing for both of them, or they would have perished along the way.
Several times they encountered marauding bands of orcs, which Altariel took as a further sign that her suspicions were correct. The largest of these bands had twenty orcs, and even had a few cave trolls, but she still defeated them easily. With her sword in her hand, nothing could stop her. Everything seemed to move slowly for her, and she could easily see the flaws and weaknesses in others. She felt sure that she could've taken out over a hundred orcs if given the proper motivation. When she tried to explain this to Sam, he expressed doubts.
"I'm sure you feel that way, but in reality you were just lucky all the orcs had swords and that their leader died first. Without him, no one ordered them to attack you, so they pretty much just perished one by one. You ought to be more careful next time."
"Sam, I appreciate your concern, but I know what I'm doing," was her only response. For the most part, they were too focused on surviving to talk except for when they absolutely had to.
The only other time besides then that they encountered human life was a traveling merchant who was desperately heading south to find a better climate and someone to sell his wares to. He was better informed of the situation to the south than they were, surprisingly. Things had apparently gotten much worse there. Arvegil had taken complete command, using his soldiers to police Arnor. Despite this, the killings were becoming more frequent and Arvegil's attempts at covering them up were beginning to fail.
Meanwhile, the Shire was thrown into panic as not only were the murders increasing there as well, but also with Sam missing only the Thain was keeping order and that wasn't enough. All this was more than enough motivation for Altariel to solve the problem.
Finally, Altariel could see it. It was less than a mile a way from them. The ruins of Carn Dûm towered over the rest of the landscape. Even though it had been abandoned for millennia and had been forced to endure some of the harshest weather on the planet, it still rose proud and tall above the rest of the landscape. Sam and Altariel camped outside for the night, ready to enter it and discover what was going on in the morning.
However, before they could fall asleep, they heard the baying of wargs and saw several silhouettes dart out of the ruins. "Stay down," Altariel told Sam. "I'll handle this."
She leapt up, sword in hand, and charged the wargs. Although they were huge, monstrous, snarling versions of wolves, she had no problem darting around them and killing them and their riders. She was also able to take out the two score orcs sent against them. Altariel felt exhilarated. Never before had she had the opportunity to prove her worth like this. She was high on bloodlust and rage.
She approached the captain of the squad of orcs, expecting that she would end him easily. She swung her sword at him, but to her shock rather than things slowing down for her, they stayed at the same speed as the captain blocked her swing. She grinned. Her was a worthy challenge at last. Her foe moved as fast as her, if not faster. However, Altariel's superior skills and blade were forcing the captain back, and clearly giving her the upper hand.
However, one thing that Altariel lacked was knowledge of the terrain. The orc, who could see perfectly well in the twilight, maneuvered her so that they were in a rough and uneven section of the plains. Although she tried her best to keep her footing, she eventually went down.
The orc stood over her, laughing with jubilant triumph. Suddenly, his laughter was cut short and the orc toppled over onto the ground, dead. Standing behind him was Sam, clutching a dagger that was glowing bright blue. Altariel immediately recognized the dagger as Sting, the sword that Bilbo and Frodo had carried on their travels.
"I told you," he said, but the smile on his face told Altariel that he was just glad she was safe.
"You were right, Sam. I apologize for my arrogance. Now, how about we get some well-deserved sleep, aye?"
Sam yawned. "Sounds like a plan to me," and fell asleep almost right away. Altariel stayed awake a little longer, worried about what was going to happen within Carn Dûm tomorrow, but eventually retreated from the waking world.
Mermacil was still exhausted when Elarë finally shook him awake. "Wake up, fearless leader. It's time for us to keep moving." Mermacil groaned, but knew that he would have to get up eventually. The others were already up and had seen that Benethro had enough supplies and was in good health before seeing him off. They had a quick morning meal and were soon well on their way.
"Okay, so let me get this straight," said Hannish as they walked. "Our new plan is to head to Nurn, where Kith'tar's contacts will hopefully tell us more about why the orcs are here than just "there's a presence."
"That's pretty much it," Mermacil responded. "Once we have enough information, we return to Faramir and report it all back to him."
"So, we are not engaging?" Lt. Samnon asked. Mermacil thought he heard a slight hint of disappointment.
"Are you crazy?!" the other four shouted at him.
"We'd hardly make a dent in their army," responded Mermacil.
"We'd be killed in seconds," said Hannish.
"We'd never get any information back to Faramir," said Elarë.
"The orcs would probably spare one of us and torture him or her for information," Kith'tar said, thinking up the grimmest scenario possible.
Mermacil stared at Kith'tar briefly, then continued on. "In other words, no."
Lt. Samnon held up his hands in a signal of surrender. "Hey, I was just curious."
They continued on at the same pace for several days. They had entered Nurn by this time, but after the War the majority of the population had retreated further away from Gorgoroth, so it would likely still be a few days before they encountered anyone.
Mermacil looked over his shoulder when he thought he noticed something odd. "Hey, does anyone else see that dust cloud over there?" he asked. The others turned around.
"I see," Kith'tar said. "I wonder what could be causing it?"
"Orcs," said Hannish. "They've finally caught up with us."
"All of them?" asked Elarë.
"Unlikely," said Kith'tar. "Judging by the size of the dust plume, there's around two hundred of them. Sending all of their forces would require far too much planning and time, and would be like using a battering ram to cut open an apple. By sending a small squad they can move much faster while still having enough numbers to destroy us and prevent information about them from spreading. Clearly, whoever is in charge has a better grasp of tactics than Sauron did."
"Now do we engage?" asked Lt. Samnon.
"Negative," Mermacil replied. "Now is the time were we run!"
The group took off, heading further into Nurn. The orcs were still a good day or two away from them, but Mermacil knew how enduring orcs were. He knew that if they didn't get a good lead, the orcs would easily outpace them. While they wouldn't be able to run all day like Uruk-Hai, they could still run much faster and for much longer. Mermacil could only hope that they would find protection before the orcs found them.
Tu-Ankh woke Telimperion up with a kiss. She stirred and was about to fall back asleep again when he kissed her a second time. She giggled and opened her eyes, awake for real this time. Then she realized where she was. "Why are we in bed together?" she asked. Tu-Ankh leaned back, surprised by her seriousness. "Nothing happened," he said. "We fell asleep tog-" he broke off when he saw that Telimperion had begun to sob loudly.
"What's the matter, Tel?" he asked gently.
Between sobs, Telimperion replied. "We can't be together."
Tu-Ankh was somewhat taken aback. "Why ever not? Was it something I did?"
Telimperion shook her head. "No. It's…It's t-that I'm married."
Tu-Ankh was shocked. "You are? You never told me!"
"It never came up in conversation. Also, I don't often think of Torenor because he is away so often."
"Doesn't sound like you love him very much then," Tu-Ankh replied.
"No, I don't," Telimperion replied honestly. "He doesn't love me much either. He married me because I had the most lands of any of the unmarried women of the Vale. I married him because he actually respected as a decent human being, unlike all the other men. Love entered into it little."
"Than why can't we be together," Tu-Ankh replied despairingly. "You are the only person who I ever really been able to connect to!"
"Because a promise is a promise!" Telimperion snapped at him. "Maybe now that I know you I can divorce him and marry you. Until then, we are not together!"
There was an uncomfortable silence that lingered in the room for several unendurable minutes. Finally, Tu-Ankh spoke again. "Telimperion, I apologize for my behavior. It was wrong of me to act against your wishes and I hope you forgive me. This will hardly be the first set back that I have experienced in my long life, and I doubt it will be the last."
Telimperion gave him a shaky smile. "I forgive you," she said, holding out her hand.
Tu-Ankh smiled back. "Thank you. Now, speaking of my long life, I have a few other leads to try out. Minas Tirith is a melting pot of other cultures and races. I have three potential leads. The first lead is that we seek out the Elves living within the city. We can ask them about the Shapet to see if they know anything. Even if they don't, they might now something about what was done to me. Failing that, the Elves are said to be great healers. Perhaps they can fix me.
"The second lead is we find a cult of Kirran worshippers in the city. There should be at least one cult that worships someone like Xulping that grants healing abilities. If we can find one of them, then they can heal me.
"Lastly, and most dangerously, we find an actual necromancer. If we can somehow compel them to help us, they can almost certainly unbind my soul. What do you think?
Telimperion considered the options for a bit, then responded, "Finding a cult will take a lot of time, and finding the right one will take even longer. That's assuming that they want to help us, of course. Finding a necromancer will be exponentially harder and it will also be even harder to convince them or survive. I say we go with the Elves first."
"Good idea. Let's go!"
A loud knocking on their front door awaked Aulenmir, Noldolma, Peladin, and Sirilfa. Aulenmir hurried over to the front door and opened it. Standing there was a short Ephûl messenger. "The time had came," he said. Aulenmir stared at him. "Give me a few minutes," he said urgently.
The messenger looked at him suspiciously. "Very well," he allowed grudgingly. Aulenmir closed the door, turned around, and whispered hurriedly to the children, silencing their inquiring cries.
"All right, I don't have very long to explain. I am going to be leaving with that man and joining the Ephûl for a brief period of time. Luckily, because of our recent trip there is still plenty of food here. Just remember what you did last time I was away. Also, the Ephûl left us some meat last night, so you two should be set for the next week. The snares are unset, but two smart children like you should be able to figure out how to reset them."
Sirilfa was sobbing openly, and Peladin had tears in his eyes. "Please, Unca, don't leave," Sirilfa cried.
Aulenmir hugged both of them and smiled sadly. "I'm afraid I have to. However, I will return. You have my word," he promised. Then, before they could say anything else, he opened the door, stepped outside, and shut it once again.
He turned to the messenger. "Now, tell me, why has my promise been called in?"
The messenger shook his head. "I can't tell you."
Aulenmir frowned. "Why not?" he asked, raising his voice.
The messenger stood firm and resolute. "We must leave at once. The reason that your promise has been called in is a most urgent one, and we have very little time. We must run!" He began to do so, and Aulenmir realized that if he wanted to get answers, his only choice was to follow the messenger.
For such a short man the messenger was surprisingly fast. He was also much better at going uphill than Aulenmir was, but that was to be expected. The man had lived in the mountains his entire life, after all. They kept on running through the entire morning. Although his entire body wanted to collapse, every time Aulenmir thought about stopping he looked towards the messenger and was inspired by his example to keep running.
Eager to do anything to distract his mind from his exhaustion, Aulenmir ventured to start a conversation with his companion. Between breaths, he panted out the question, "What is your name?"
The messenger gave him a brief glance before turning away and replying, "My name is Paung." Before Aulenmir could ask him another question, Paung said, "looks like we are here."
Relieved to be able to stop, Aulenmir collapsed to the ground. Water was brought to him and he was carried over to where Jamai's tent still was. Jamai was sitting on the ground outside of his tent. "Rest up, my friend. Drink, eat, and then listen, for what we are about to do is quite possibly the most important thing you will ever do in your entire life."
Privately, Aulenmir doubted that last statement very much. However, he said nothing and did as he was told. Once he had restored his vitality and was able to concentrate and think, Jamai began to speak.
"We have been receiving disturbing reports of Orcish activity in these mountains for the past few months," he began. He smiled wryly upon seeing Aulenmir's shock. "I said they were disturbing, didn't I? Anyway, I have brought you here to recruit you. Tomorrow, we are gonna fight ourselves some orcs."