I fell asleep at my usual time tonight, after my usual activities and schedule, after a completely normal day. However, tonight was like nothing I have ever seen. I awoke from my deep sleep to find that I was no longer in my bed but in the palace library.
The palace library is by far the largest library in existence upon Arda. The library could pose as an entire lesser palace on its own. There are hundreds of rooms, and at least five floors. Most of our greatest architectural knowledge comes from trying to create this building and the many wonders we discovered in doing so.
The library is said to contain hundreds of thousands of books, scrolls, pamphlets, and engravings, if not millions. One could spend a lifetime reading the books in one small section alone, and there are hundreds of them. The many rooms and antechambers make the building almost labyrinth like, and if one doesn't want to be found, the library is the best place to go. I half suspect that all of Ar-Pharazôn's political enemies hide down there, knowing there is no way for them to ever be uncovered.
The first, and yet least strange thing I noticed is that I was in a note-taking room in the library. I had no idea were I was or how to get out of the library. However, I refused to let myself panic. There was no way that I would live all these years simply to die after starving to death in a library!
The next strangest thing was the books that I was looking at. I remember the titles perfectly, despite the number of them. They have burned into my memory by the events of tonight. I was looking at the following books: Tales of Barish, The Honor of a Nomad, The Priest of Gonar'kai, Elrond Half-Elven: Traitor or Savior, The Life and Times of a Confessed Saint, The Art of the Blood, Why are the Family Still Here?, and Who is the Man Inside the Gauntlet?. I had never seen any of these titles before in my life, and I was ignorant of their content until tonight. In order that I listed them, the books seemed to be about: the city of Barish, a story of a man wandering a vast desert encountering strange humanoid beasts, a priest of a false god, a book about Elrond, of all people, A book about what appeared to be Finarfin, a pamphlet asking for the destruction of a family called the "Brannonions", and at last a biography of one who I think is Sauron.
Weirdest of all with regards to the books, I could not tell whether these books told truth or fiction. For all I knew, the books were the writing of delusional madmen. Another oddity, by the way: none of the books had any authors listed. As a matter of fact, there was almost no information listed about these books, not even in the information cards in the section they should have been filed in, if they were ever filed there at all.
However the strangest thing I found was the notes that I was taking. Even looking at them now, they still make no sense to me, and I cannot understand what the books that I was looking at had to do with it. I have reproduced the statements that I apparently wrote in the following section.
#1: This monster stalks the under depths of the grand city, stealing the lives of others. It cares not for the soul, only to devour and destroy. And though the primes and the light gather to destroy it, they shall fail unless they discover the nature of the beast.
#2: This monster hides not, but flaunts its power upon the fields of fire dead. It is the only one of its brethren who seeks to restore the Master, but its efforts are in vain, for it has not the power. Scroll, sword, cloak, diamond, and the son of the prince shall he destroy unless [this part was written illegibly]
#3: This beast stalks the ruins of the cold city, seeking to drive out those who would remind it of its ward's failure. Although it haunts the minds of others, the works of the elder children shall soon drive it out.
I was eventually able to make my way out of the library and back into my quarters, where I worked as hard as possible to reproduce the events of tonight. As best I can judge, I experienced some sort of premonition. I shall not speak to anyone of this, only to my Journal
-From the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr
Aulenmir was taken aback by Jamai's statement. "Recruit me?" he asked incredulously, astounded at Jamai's request. "Surely, you must not mean this. I am no fighter. I have begun to grow to old. My bones ache far more than most men my age. I have not held a sword since—since I came to these mountains." He came so close to revealing his secrets then. Jamai's proclamation must have truly unnerved him.
Jamai smiled, but there was no humor in his look. "I rarely ever joke on the eve of war, my friend. You have been wielding a bow for over a decade now. You are stronger than you ever were before. Even if somehow you could not be taught to wield a sword, or even a spear, your archery would be useful."
Aulenmir frowned. "I swore that I would never take the life of another sentient being. You are asking me to undo a large part of my soul."
"What may happen if I do not gather all the men I can would be far worse. These orcs intend to carve out a kingdom for themselves in our lands. Elessar may call them his lands, but they have been ours for longer and he has no use to them, nor will he rush to defend them if we ask.
"If we do not fight, the Ered Nimrais will become the playground of these orcs, of these Keraq'ar. And if the Ephûl fall, what will become of the Vale?" Jamai shook his head. "We must fight, or else we will all fall."
Aulenmir desperately thought for a way out. He did not want to have to take another life, no matter what the cost to others would be. "Is there some way I can call off the deal? I can give you back your meat and ask for no more in the future. I'll even hunt for you."
Before he had even finished, Jamai was shaking his head. "Impossible, I am afraid. Even if I wanted to also back out of these deal-and as you may have noticed I do not-you have already cost my men a great amount of effort. Any way that you could make it back to us besides fighting will become worthless if we are all slaughtered." Jamai grimaced.
"Also, it would do well for others to believe that they could simply back out of deals that they found to be unsatisfactory in the end. If you were to back out…well, I'm afraid that there would be some consequences involved for you and your family."
Aulenmir froze and stared and Jamai in shock. "You would dare threaten my family," he began angrily. Before he could go on, Jamai raised a hand. I tire of this pointless arguing. Jejo, Fermi, please take Aulenmir to the archery pit."
Aulenmir stood up to follow the two men. Before he left, he turned around to talk to Jamai one more time. "We were always on such good terms with each other whenever we met. What changed?"
Jamai looked at him sadly. "The world is always changing, my old friend. I must change with it, or be left in its wake. I hope for your sake that you change too."
Aulenmir clenched his hands at hearing Jamai call him "old friend" again. "I will not forget this," he began. "When this is over, we will no longer be friends."
Jamai raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He clapped his hands together once. "Well, off with you now."
Aulenmir followed the two men willingly, though he seethed with rage inwardly. He resolved that while he would still uphold his end of the bargain, he was only doing so because he did not want to become lower than Jamai. Aulenmir was also beginning to consider the possibility that the Keraq'ar were a legitimate threat. An orc invasion larger than any since the War itself would destabilize the fragile young Reunited Kingdom.
Aulenmir was almost a little shocked by the timing of it. Had the Keraq'ar invaded but a few years earlier, King Elessar might not have had as many troops attempting to keep peace in Arnor. Had they arrived a few years later, the realm might have already solidified itself again. Aulenmir tabled that thought, saving worrying about it for another time.
He released some of his anger at the archery pit. Aulenmir shot quite well considering his was over forty and only used the bow for an hour at best each day. He was even able to outshoot many of the Ephûl. Perhaps Jamai did have a good reason for picking him, although Aulenmir doubted that he would turn the tide of a battle. Looking around, he noticed that the camp was far busier than usual.
"What's going on?" he asked Fermi, who was still escorting him.
"What you mean?" he said in a low voice. Fermi was clearly not in often contact with Gondorians; his Westron was harsh and broken.
"Why are there so many more people?"
"War coming. Calling in other camps."
That's interesting, though Aulenmir. He had believed that this camp was the only Ephûl camp. He saw now that he had been deliberately mislead to conceal the true strength of the Ephûl. He wondered what else had been hidden from him. Was Jamai ever true? He thought despairingly.
After spending the entire afternoon practicing, Aulenmir joined the other Ephûl for an evening meal. However, he rebuffed all attempts at conversation and was engrossed in his own thoughts. He realized that the Ephûl, who could not control their leader, did not deserve his cold demeanor and began to open up a bit.
When he talked with the Ephûl, he was able to learn several things. He learned that diplomatic relations had originally been established with the Keraq'ar, but for unknown reasons the Keraq'ar slaughtered their diplomats. He also learned that several border patrols had been found dead after extending onto Keraq'ar land. A very important thing he learned was that two other tribes of orcs were also inhabiting the Ered Nimrais, but were much small and were not as hostile.
Aulenmir started to realize that Jamai might have more than one reason to go after the Keraq'ar. It seemed that the Keraq'ar had killed many of his people, and Jamai was certainly thirsting for revenge. Aulenmir felt even worse about being forced to join Jamai's cause. Even though it could be considered entirely just, Aulenmir had sworn not to fight another man again, and that was what he wished to do.
However, it appeared that he would not have much in the way of a choice. After the meal was over, Aulenmir declined the offers of company and a place around the fire pits and returned to his tent. He slept fitfully, uneasy with what he would be doing the next day.
Aulenmir woke up early despite his like of sleep and went to the archery pit to practice his archery more. An Ephûl woman was practicing there as well.
"Hello, Aulenmir!" she called to him.
Aulenmir raised an eyebrow. "How do you know my name?" he replied.
The woman smiled. "Is common knowledge. Only tark in camp." She paused for a moment, considering something, then laughed. "Will make fair. My name Daliza."
Aulenmir smiled back. Usually, once you earned the trust of one of the Ephûl, they treated with warmth and respect, as if you were one of their own. Of course, conflicts undoubtedly arose more easily between friendly outsiders and the Ephûl, but Aulenmir wondered if that was the fault of the former group, not the later. In any case, he had no intention of offending the Ephûl, with the exception of Jamai.
"Hello, Daliza. Why did you call out to me?" he wondered aloud.
"Saw archery. Wanted to help."
Aulenmir hesitated. "I appreciate your offer, but-"
Daliza cut him off. "Oh no. Was no offer. You need help."
Aulenmir blushed embarrassedly. Surely he wasn't that bad! Daliza marched over to him and began to correct some of the things he was doing wrong. Aulenmir was quite able to master everything that she was telling him, but he was making significant progress. Suddenly, a loud horn blew, signaling for them to gather around the now-extinguished fire pits
Jamai was standing on top of a large rock that had been brought to the pits for that purpose. Although everyone was chatting loudly as he first approached, when he raised a hand the Ephûl fell silent at once. Aulenmir rarely saw such discipline outside of armies. Jamai waited a few more seconds, and then began to speak in a tone that was soft, yet penetrating. Although Aulenmir could not understand his speech, Daliza was kind enough to translate for him.
"My people, today we gather to launch a war. This will not be like other wars that we have fought before. Those wars we fought for land, or for food, or even, during some of our darker days, for fun. No, this war is different. At last, we are pitted against a foe that is willing to expend all their resources, unlike the Gondorians. At last, we stand against an enemy that needs our land to live, unlike the wasteful tribes to the West.
"The Keraq'ar are dangerous. We cannot underestimate them. Already, they have killed over two score of our people because they were unprepared for what they could do. We will learn from their mistakes, though. Today, we fight without mercy, even without honor if we must. The Keraq'ar will exterminate us-will exterminate everyone if we do not. So, show me that you are ready, my people. Show me your tapanu!"
All of the Ephûl roared with vigor. Even Aulenmir, filled with his disgust for the upcoming war, began screaming with all his pride. Jamai began to walk off to the East purposefully, and the screaming Ephûl followed him. Despite their frenzied screeching, the Ephûl marched in an orderly fashion and were ready for battle a moments notice.
They marched for a surprisingly short amount of time before stopping. Aulenmir couldn't tell the exact time because the sun was obscured behind several thick clouds, as was the rest of the sky. However, Jamai called for the Ephûl to halt. It was not difficult to determine why. Covering the plains in front of the Ephûl were the Keraq'ar. Aulenmir had never actually seen an orc up close. The tales that he had heard of them had made him expect something misshapen and monstrous. Aulenmir was surprised to see that aside from their somewhat smaller height and a few other minor physical differences, the orcs looked just like any other man.
The Ephûl and the Keraq'ar stared each other down, as though they were trying to intimidate each other out of this battle. Aulenmir could see the hatred that each bore for the other. He also saw the immense determination that they both had. Suddenly, without any kind of warning, the two armies launched into action and began the fiercest battle either of them had fought in their entire lives. And Aulenmir, despite himself, notched an arrow and pulled back the bowstring. The first few flakes of snow began to fall around him.
The door closed in his face. Peladin turned around, sat down, and began to cry. How could they survive without Aulenmir? And even if they could, what would they do without him, without his stories? Peladin, of course, was thinking for Sirilfa. He didn't know what she'd do without Aulenmir.
Peladin had long since revised his original opinion of Aulenmir. When he and Sirilfa had first arrived at his cabin, Aulenmir had not impressed him at all. The man hardly seemed to care for anything or anyone except himself. However, once Peladin got to know him he realized that he did care, but he tried not to show it. Aulenmir expressed himself best through his stories.
Noldolma, seeing Peladin's distress, came over to him and began to vigorously like his face. Despite his stress, he laughed and hugged Noldolma. She went over to Sirilfa next and licked her too. Then she turned around and looked at both of them, wagging her tail as she did so.
"Pel," Sirilfa said quietly, "I think she wants us to follow her."
Peladin looked closely at Noldolma. It did almost seem as though she was trying to get them to go after her. He hesitantly took a step towards her and was rewarded by seeing her get up and walk forward. He moved faster and continued to follow her, eager to see what she was leading them to.
He found out soon enough. Noldolma lead Peladin and Sirilfa over to a bookshelf that Peladin didn't remember seeing before. Peladin didn't recognize any of the words on the covers of the books and deduced that they were all books written in other languages. He didn't see why Noldolma was leading them over there until Sirilfa helped.
"Look, Pel!" she said, pointing to a scrap of paper resting on the bookshelf. Peladin picked it up and gasped with shock.
"It's a letter from Aulenmir!" he cried.
Sirilfa's eyes widened. "What's it say?" she begged.
Peladin squinted at the letter, making sure he was reading it right, and then began to read the letter aloud,
Dear Peladin and Sirilfa,
If you have found this letter, then I have left you unexpectedly and Noldolma has led you to this letter (make sure you tell her that she's a good dog!) First, do not worry; I assure you that I will return. Your mother would kill me if I didn't; that much is certain!
Second, hopefully the Ephûl have delivered the meat like promised. If they have, they should have given you plenty to survive on until I return. If not, you may have to consist off of bread and vegetables. That is, unless you get the snares working, which I am convinced that you could do.
Peladin paused in his reading. "I don't remember the Ephûl delivering any meat. Do you?"
"Unca said they delivered it last night," Sirilfa said confidently. "Its probably in the meat freezer."
Peladin nodded. "That makes sense. Well, that's one less thing we have to worry about."
"That's great. Now, continue reading!" Peladin rolled his eyes at Sirilfa and continued.
Last, since I am no longer around to tell you a story, you will have to rely on one of my books. On the main bookshelf near the table, there is a book called "The Brannonion Family History". In here you will find a description of how we are related, fairly closely to Aldarion himself.
With love, Aulenmir
Peladin grinned. Even when Aulenmir was away, he was looking out for them. Now they had a plan that they could follow and something to look forward to. Peladin assumed command. "All right, here's what we are going to do for the rest of the day. We are going to cut wood to keep the fire going. We can pause at around noon to have a look at some of that meat, but that's all."
Surprisingly, Sirilfa complied without a single complaint, justified or otherwise. They managed to get a surprising amount of wood cut in one day, especially considering their small physiques. Peladin suspected that Sirilfa was so preoccupied by Aulenmir's leaving that she couldn't be bothered to complain or dawdle. He'd heard worse theories before.
After they eat dinner (and they had successfully been able to find the meat), Peladin got out the book that Aulenmir had mentioned and started to read. The book was really nothing more than a notebook. It appeared that Aulenmir had handwritten the story himself. Peladin was willing to guess that it was based off of earlier research. Peladin, unconsciously copying Aulenmir, cleared his throat and tried to read as much like Aulenmir as he could.
It is not easy to be the second child of a family. I believe this to be a true statement almost anywhere, regardless of class or location. However, for those in higher classes, being a second child is probably worse. For, you see, while the first child is the primary inheritor of the family, and the other children will almost certainly be doted on and given important positions, the second child is neither doted on, nor will they inherit will.
There are a few exceptions, such as Anarion, the second son of Elendil. Despite not being the first son, he still and his heirs ruled an entire kingdom while Isildur and his heirs ruled another, although it ended up being an heir of Isildur, King Elessar Telcontar, that reunited the two. Another exception are Elrond and Elros, who both became great men independent of the other's successes.
The second child that concerns us today is Isilmë, second daughter of Tar-Elendil. The first daughter of Tar-Elendil, Silmarien, is usually better remembered for having her right to the throne denied on the basis of her sex and for being the direct ancestor of Elendil, the man who would become King of Arnor and Gondor. The first son, Tar-Meneldur, is usually better remembered for having become King and being the farther of Tar-Aldarion, whom you have been learning about.
Indeed, it could definitely be said that Isilmë did very little during her lifetime, aside from write a collection of poems that were, tragically, lost during the Downfall. However, there is one very important thing that she did in relation to our family, and that was to have a child. The child was a girl, named Aglarizimril. Aglarizimril, if possible, did even less that marks her as notable aside from propagating the family line. Her only child, a boy named Miniltârik, was very much the same. And so, throughout the generations, Isilmë's family line survived.
The nobility of Númenor consists of the descendants of Elros, those who are considered immensely rich, or those who were granted a title by the King. As the daughter of a King, Isilmë would have been considered as a Princess. However, as time went on and her family line grew further apart from the King's (and as the number of nobles swelled), their status as nobles would have decreased. They would have technically been in line for succession, but if enough people died to make them the ruling family, there was probably some sort of apocalypse occurring.
The descendants of Isilmë essentially faded into obscurity, becoming minor barons and the like. The majority of them tried to hold close to Silmarien's descendants, with the end result being that many of the Faithful were related to at least one of the two sisters. (For those curious, Silmarien's descendants were continuously given the title "Lord of Andúnië, allowing them to stay higher in the noble pecking order. It helped that they married closer to the throne several times)
By searching through records of the Faithful that were present on Elendil's seven ships, I have determined that one of Isilmë's descendants, named Zainabên II, was on board one of Anarion's ships at the time. He settled in Minas Tirith, married a girl that caught his eye and ended up fighting in the Last Alliance against Sauron. By some miracle, he survived that war and returned home after many years. He was well rewarded for his bravery by being given a relatively large pension.
Many years later, during the Kin-strife, the head of the family, a man, by curious coincidence, named Aldarion, decided to flee Castamir's cruel rule and support King Eldacar. By a stroke of luck, he saved Eldacar's life during one of the many battles of the Kin-strife and was rewarded with a barony out in the present-day Vale.
For many more generations, Aldarion and his descendants ruled over their barony well. However, when the Wainriders attacked for the second time, the people of Khand and Near Harad attacked the Vale, causing death and destruction, confusion and delay. In the Aftermath, only one man from Isilmë's family escaped. This man was named Abattazîr. Sadly, Abattazîr's rightful barony was given to a man who had proven his bravery in the battle in Northern Ithilien, and Abattazîr was forced to live under his rule. Ever since, Abattazîr's descendants have lived and worked in the Vale until very recently.
Peladin closed the notebook. "Well, how do you think I did?" he asked eagerly.
Sirilfa made a face. "Next time, leave the story telling to Aulenmir."
Peladin grew somber. "I hope he comes back soon."
Reaching up, Sirilfa put her hand on his shoulder for comfort. "Me too," she whispered softly. Together, they went to bed.
Telimperion and Tu-Ankh went around Minas Tirith while they searched for the Elves. For whatever reason, their seemed to be a strong anti-Elvish sentiment prevailing in the city, and it was difficult to find anyone willing to associate themselves with the Elves. The few who were willing to speak only knew that the Elves were keeping themselves in the shadows and currently did not wish to interact with the outside world at all. Another obstacle was that the Elves usually stayed outside of Minas Tirith entirely when they could, only entering when they needed to buy something or speak with the King or the dwarves.
Finally, they found a vendor who was willing to reveal the location of a group of the Elves. He forced them to buy one of his cabbages first, but once he did so he told them that the Elves were hiding close to the Houses of Healing. Tu-Ankh and Telimperion grinned at each other. At least they could find that area easily enough.
It took them several hours to get there, as Telimperion and Tu-Ankh were in no rush. When they finally got to the Elves' location, they knocked on the door, but got no reply.
Tu-Ankh called to see if there was anyone in the building. "Hello? Is there anyone at home? We're friendly, I swear by Elbereth!"
It wasn't until he mentioned Elbereth that the door opened and a small looking elf peered out. "Keep your voice down!" he hissed. "Well, if you're going to shout our location to the entire block unless we let you in, you may as well come inside."
Smiling thankfully, Telimperion and Tu-Ankh allowed themselves to be lead in side. The building had surprisingly little space and Tu-Ankh and Telimperion felt a little crammed inside the little area.
One of the elves spoke. "Welcome, Elf-friends. What is it that we may help you with?"
With a chance to be rid of his curse so close, Tu-Ankh forgot all forms of propriety. "What do you know of the Shapet?" he blurted out. He closed his mouth hastily after his outburst and his face reddened, but he did not retract his question.
The elf who had spoken earlier frowned. "The who?" He blinked and then blushed slightly. "Excuse me, I am forgetting my manners. I am Baidhrif, leader of the Expedition from Eryn Lasgalen. Our mission here is to learn of the ways of the Gondorians and help them as we may. With me here are Ivorchu, our gardener and herbalist who welcomed you earlier, Rengwil, my mate and our best healer, Arodrad, our scribe, Síthiel, our warrior, and Gwennedil, Rengwil's apprentice." Baidhrif pointed to each of the Elves he named.
"One of our group, Raudael, is not with us right now. She is our liaison with the King and she is currently speaking with him. Another elf, Helgalad, is also not with us. She is our cook and is being supplies at the market.
Telimperion frowned. "That's a lot of you. How do you all fit inside this small building?"
Baidhrif pointed behind himself. "Behind us we have a few more rooms such as a kitchen, a room of bunks, and a sitting area. Although we have had to find slightly less glamorous surroundings than we've had the past, the level of aggression many Gondorians seem to hold toward us makes it a necessity."
Tu-Ankh spoke again. "Why are the Gondorians persecuting you?"
It was Ivorchu who spoke this time. "They are looking for someone to blame. Bad rumors are coming from the south and we make a convenient scapegoat."
"Plus," Rengwil interjected, "Many Gondorians are unused to interacting with elves and until recently an elf this far south would have been a once in a lifetime occurrence. Some wish things stayed that way."
"That is troubling," said Telimperion. "I feel sorry for your plight."
Rengwil smiled softly. "It is all right. We still have the opportunity to help many and report back to King Thranduil, so it has all worked out for the best. Speaking of which, now that we all know each other I am sure we can help you with your request."
Tu-Ankh nodded. "Forgive me for my haste earlier," he apologized. "I was using terms that were undoubtedly unfamiliar to you, since they come from a long dead language. Many thousands of years ago, there was a group of Elves that broke away from the rest and terrorized the minor kingdoms of Eriador. Do you have any idea what I'm talking about here?"
While the other elves exchanged puzzled glances, Arodrad spoke. "You will have to forgive my colleagues; they are not students of history, unlike myself. I am aware of the elves you speak of. In the early days of the Second Age, a few Noldor believed that many of Morgoth's servants had escaped his fall and would rebuild and attack the free world once again. Swearing that they would do all they could to prevent this, they lead a group of Sindar and Avari on a vast project to create weapons that could be used to fight Sauron and his allies.
"The most common rumors told are regarding artifacts such as magic swords and primitive versions of the Rings of Power. Most of these artifacts were probably far weaker than has been said, losing their powers after only a few decades. However, some weapons may have kept their powers for far longer. Elven artificers have always been rather talented, as creations as grand as the Silmarils and as minor as Sting show. This was merely an extension of that ability.
However, in their quest for protection, these elves lost their way. They began capturing and experimenting on humans, although not enough study has been done to conclude exactly what was done. Around this time the humans of Eriador, enraged at the behavior of the elves, rose against them and slaughtered them, almost to the man. I believe a few of them escaped and started over in Eregion, though they were certainly slain there."
Tu-Ankh was silent for a few moments, then said, "thank you, that was enormously helpful." He paused, considering what he was about to reveal, then said, "I am the last of those men that they captured."
The elves looked at him in shock as Tu-Ankh related his story, finishing by saying, "so I decided to come here to find out some more history and see if you could heal me."
Rengwil gestured for Tu-Ankh to come over to her. "I am going to see what has been done to you to confirm Ionath's diagnosis, though I am almost certain it is correct." She placed her hands upon Tu-Ankh's brow and stared into his eyes. After about a minute, she released him, nodding gravely.
"He is correct. I fear that the only way to help you would be for a necromancer to sever the connection between your spirit and body. I cannot do that, as my powers cannot touch the spirit. I am sorry for my failure."
"Don't be," said Tu-Ankh. "I now understand more of why they made me like this. I was meant to be a weapon against the armies of Sauron. Since I do not die, his orcs would have been unable to kill me."
"You were probably only the beginning," said Síthiel, speaking up for the first time.
"What do you mean?"
"While you are nigh invulnerable, you are only as powerful as any other man. It would be a simple matter to subdue you, and then take you to Sauron, where you could be bent to his will. Undoubtedly they were also seeking ways to strengthen you in mind and in body beyond what had already been done to you."
Tu-Ankh nodded. "That makes sense. Thank you all very much for the services you have provided," he said politely.
Baidhrif smiled. "Anytime," he said affably.
Telimperion and Tu-Ankh stayed with the elves for a little longer, talking with them. They were still there later when Raudael and Helgalad appeared with the food that they would be eating and wound up being invited to dinner. It was a wonderful night for Tu-Ankh. For once in his life, he would be talking to other people who had lived as long as he had.
Being alive for long periods of time gives one a certain perspective on life. One tends to be more patient, finding it easier to wait long periods when you have an infinite amount of them. Being able to meet others with this perspective was a wonderful feeling for Tu-Ankh. He and the elves were able to talk about all the things about the old world they remembered: the many tribes of men in Middle-earth, the Last Alliance, the times when there was a King of all of Arnor and a King of all of Gondor.
Telimperion mostly sat these discussions out. She had only been alive for a small fraction of the time that the others had; there was no way she could know what they were talking about except for in a distant remote way from the snippets of information she had gleamed from school when she was younger.
Finally, long past sunset, Tu-Ankh and Telimperion finally excused themselves and headed back home. Síthiel agreed to guard them on their way back so that they wouldn't have to worry about footpads and other unsavory elements of the city's nightlife.
"It seems that every day we come a step closer to what we need to do," Telimperion whispered.
"I know," replied Tu-Ankh. "I am trying to decide what our next course of action should be. We obviously need to find a necromancer of some sort, or at least a price. The question is: how do we go about doing that?"
"Well, there should be a section of the city that many Kirranmar have settled in. In an area like that, we're sure to find who we're looking for as far as a priest goes. I recommend we look for the priest first though-the necromancer will be nearly impossible to find."
"That seems like a grand plan," Tu-Ankh said. He paused, and then continued, "Thank you for continuing to help me, Tel."
Telimperion smiled. "No problem, Tu-Ankh. That's what friends are for."
Running turned out to be a lot harder than Mermacil thought it was going to be. Many years of working only in Minas Ithil had not prepared him for what he was doing currently. Although he had begun to be more active recently, he was still quite out of shape. It wasn't just that he was unused to running in general; he hadn't done much in the way of intensive physical activity in years. Elarë was in a similar position, although she was probably even worse off.
Even Lt. Samnon was beginning to falter after a few hours of running. Mermacil and Elarë were both surprised by this, having assumed that Lt. Samnon's military training had made him more enduring than that. Hannish, however, knew that the Rangers often focused on different skills than physical endurance such as survival, tracking, riding, even languages. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with that; Rangers just had different jobs than other soldiers.
Hannish and Kith'tar were still going strong. Hannish's explanation was that years of serving in the army had made him very enduring. Kith'tar offered no explanation save for his usual excuse of his rough homeland. Mermacil had long ago decided that Nurn wasn't a place that he wanted to visit; yet here he was anyway.
Mermacil sighed, or did his best to do so while running, knowing that Hannish and Kith'tar's speed didn't really matter. Eventually they would all run out of energy and the orcs would catch up to them. Even though the orcs couldn't run during the day like Uruk-Hai, they made up for that by how much they ran during the day. Mermacil supposed that this was logical; Kith'tar said he was strong because Nurn made him that way. Barad-dûr made Nurn look like Rivendell compared with its own hellishness.
For now, the orcs were still a day or two behind. However, Mermacil was certain they would catch up. There was no way they would win against 200 of them, even fighting their very hardest. Even assuming that the orcs were all terrible fighters and all five of them were great fighters, the orcs could either grapple them and swarm them with their superior numbers or they shoot them down with arrows. Mermacil saw no way to win.
Up ahead, Kith'tar stopped his run. "Look over there," he said, pointing to a group of small huts that were clustered together several yards to the right. The group altered their course, heading for the huts. When they reached them, they realized that they had stumbled upon what appeared to be a small village. Several orcs and humans were moving about the village, doing chores and other tasks. Mermacil and the others stopped for a moment to catch their breaths.
A tall, middle-aged orc approached them. She had a badge on her shirt that marked her as some sort of sheriff. "Which one of you is in charge?" she asked.
Mermacil motioned to himself. "I am," he replied.
"Please state your business in Drakarator," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Mermacil hesitated for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts before proceeding. "We are searching for information. We recently discovered a large group of orcs camped on the Plateau of Gorgoroth and I want to know why they are there. In addition, we are fleeing a large group of orcs that is pursuing us."
The sheriff scowled when she heard about the orcs pursuing them. "How far away are these orcs?"
"About a day or two away. We are sorry for bringing them down here but we didn't really have much of another option."
The sheriff waved off his apology. "No matter. What's done is done. I'm Kapagund, by the way. Why don't you come down to my office and we can talk about this?"
"Sounds good to me," said Mermacil. He and the rest of the group followed Kapagund down several streets before reaching a building that seemed larger than the rest. She led them in through the door and down a few hallways before they reached her office. Noticing their looks of puzzlement, she said, "this office serves as the headquarters for the police for every town within a few day's walking distance of her. We get quite a bit of funding compared with some other businesses, so we are able to build a place like this."
"Your law enforcement is privately owned?" asked Hannish.
"There's no central government here to support one," Kith'tar said for Kapagund. "What happens is that several people declare themselves to be a legal authority and enforce that authority. As for as authorities go, having a team of privatized law enforcement is far better than your average despot."
Kapagund looked at Kith'tar strangely. "You are from this area," she said.
Although it wasn't really a question, Kith'tar responded anyway. "Yes. However, I left this region long ago to avoid to war."
Kapagund grunted. "That was a pretty smart decision, as it turned out. Anyway, that's not what we're here for. You want to know what's up with those orcs, huh." The others all nodded. Kapagund continued, "Well, I can tell you, but there will be a price."
Mermacil frowned. "What kind of price?" he asked.
"Each of you will have to truthfully answer a question of mine. And I'm pretty good at reading people, so I'll know if you're not being honest."
Mermacil looked at the rest of his team. They all nodded to indicate their willingness to do that. "We need this information," Elarë said softly.
Looking satisfied, Kapagund began to tell what she knew. "As you are aware, Sauron was defeated by the forces of what is now the Reunited Kingdom around 43 years ago. During this victory, many of his greatest lieutenants, such as the Great orcs and the Nazgûl were defeated. However, Sauron had a few lieutenants that were actually lesser Maia. While these Maia were no were near Sauron's strength—Gandalf the White could have destroyed all of them if he was so inclined—compared to the average person they are still quite powerful."
Kapagund began pacing back in forth in the office, while the others seated themselves on various chairs that were inside. "My best theorists are attempting to determine why these Maia never became balrogs like nearly every other dark Maia that we have encountered. Our best theories are that either these Maia weren't quite powerful enough, or they had powers that were better suited in a different form than that of a balrog.
"Several of these Maia, seeing their master defeated, fled to Valinor and sued for pardon there. It is unknown what their exact fate was. However, at least two of them stayed behind. One of them I know very little of, aside from the fact that it fled north, probably to Angmar. This Maia was the stronger of the two, and also the smarter. It knew not to draw attention to itself like this one has and it knew that staying in Mordor was a bad idea."
Elarë interrupted. "Do you know what the names of these Maia are?"
Kapagund shook her head. "I can't say I do. We have our own names for them: Haihatur and Ushtargijak. However, these are not the names that they have given themselves or that their servants give them. They are insignificant enough that there are no tales of them and I believe they may have been servants of Morgoth nearly from the beginning, so the elves wouldn't have encountered them.
"Anyway, as I was sayin', the other Maia was not so intelligent and remained in Gorgoroth, although it was smart enough to at least wait a few decades first. As soon as Ushtargijak thought that it had a good opportunity, it began sending out a call to all orcs to come and serve it and take revenge against mankind. That's why all those orcs are there."
"I have a few questions," said Elarë.
Kapagund continued pacing. "Ask away!"
"How come no one from here answered the call?"
"Most of the orcs here either fought in the War or now many who did. The orcs who answered the call—and I have no idea where they came from—probably were disconnected from that. They yearn for war, while we, knowing the true horrors of war, do not answer its call. If it was Sauron calling, we would not be able to resist. However, Ushtargijak is far weaker than Sauron."
"Okay, thanks. I have one more question: How do you know all these things?"
"You think we wouldn't scout out our own lands when something strange starts happening? We sent out our own spies to infiltrate the camp and report back to us. In a camp that huge with that many different orcs in it, it's a piece of cake for us, although imagine it wouldn't be so easy for you." She smirked smugly at them.
"Now, we need to talk about what we are going to do about these orcs that are following you. On one hand, I hardly want to bring the full wrath of all the orcs in there down on us. On the other hand, I also hardly want to support them."
"So, what does that mean for us?" asked Hannish.
"I'm getting to that, son. I'm going to call in all the law in this area, as well as the many ex-soldiers that we've got tucked away here. We'll destroy the men that are hunting you so that you can report back to Faramir."
Mermacil sighed with relief. "Thank you so very much," he said. He started to get up.
"Hold on, there. I don't remember telling you to go. Sit down! I still need to ask you all your questions!" Kapagund ordered.
Reluctantly, Mermacil sat down. He didn't see what harm a few questions could do anyways. First, Kapagund leaned over towards Elarë. "What knowledge is it that you seek?" she asked.
Elarë mumbled something that none of them could hear. "Speak up louder, dear," advised Kapagund.
"I wish to learn about the Rings of Power."
Next, Kapagund turned to Hannish. "Who are you looking for?"
Hannish gulped. "How could you know?" he wondered.
"Just answer the question," she warned.
Hannish sighed. "I seek the murderer of my parents."
Kapagund laughed. "Good answer, that." She then turned to Lt. Samnon. "Where is what you love the most?"
Unlike everyone else, Lt. Samnon answered immediately. "Minas Tirith," he replied promptly.
Next up was Kith'tar. "Why did you leave?"
"I did not leave; I was kicked out. I was told I was too weak to survive in this world, too weak for my parents to continue to support me. I left Nurn only to be picked up by Barad-dûr. I've been atoning for those days ever since."
Lastly, she turned to Mermacil. "How did your parents die?"
Mermacil's eyes widened. There was no way that Kapagund could have known that. "A man killed my father. My mother committed suicide."
Before they could discuss the what they had just said, Kapagund spoke again. "Very good answers from all of you. Now, let me show you to your quarters." She led them through the maze of hallways and into a small room with five small beds. The five of them were all so tired from their long day of running that, with a little gentle urging from Kapagund, they all fell asleep and, for now, forgot about the questions.
A/N: Tapanu had no direct translation into our languages. It represents a concept similar to courage, but has a lot to do with the more physical aspect of it, as well as vigor and strength.