Death is a subject of great interest to many Númenoreans, and our stance on death has been evolving throughout time. As one of the "great constants" as Sapthabêl calls it, it has fascinated many, from all walks of life. As mentioned above, Sapthabêl, a philosopher, was fascinated by it, but he's hardly alone. Great kings as well struggle against it, or willingly accept it. Sailors respect it, and the poor feel its presence every day.
As a culture, our opinion on death has changed in a huge way in the past few centuries. We used to look at death the same way that the Elves do: a blessed release that we should accept, not fight. The Númenoreans used to believe that death came when it was time, and that this time should not be feared.
However, now we seem to believe that death is something to be feared. Kings have spent fortunes consulting magicians and priests, alchemists and scholars in order to learn how to escape their fated day. However, as far as I can tell, no man has ever succeeded. Every man, rich or poor, wise or fool, meets with Mandos in the end. The only difference is if they choose to boldly go.
From the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr
"We call this story, in your language, 'Morgoth's Fool,'" said the elder. Parthekos had spent the better (or, in this case, worse) part of his day listening to the ancient orc talk. The orc's name he had learned, was Ilkufen. This was the only personal detail Parthekos had learned, for after introducing himself, the orc had gotten straight to the business of telling his tales, and Parthekos had gotten straight to writing. Parthekos speculated that Ilkufen had not said anything more about himself because there was nothing to say.
"In our tongue, it is known as Mornûtir Kuinzje. The story begins by the Icebay of Forochel, which is called …"
Parthekos largely tuned the elder out. He was still able to write down what was being said, but he didn't absorb any of it. Thankfully, that was the last story that he had to record for the day. Now, it was time to eat and give his first sermon. He thanked Ilkufen for taking time out of his day, and then left the tent to head to the center of the camp. He had written down a few notes for his speech when he wasn't busy transcribing, and now he had those notes in his pocket, waiting for his chance to speech.
The evening meal was simple, but delicious. A few of the orcs were assigned with the responsibility of preparing the food that the hunters and gatherers brought back. Although the hunters hadn't brought back much these past few weeks, the amateur cooks still did the best they could. Also, the orcs had begun a small agriculture program. Soon after they had moved into the desert, they had realized that they would not long last merely on hunting and gathering. They had thus decided to cultivate a few crops that could grow in this environment and grow them on a greater scale.
This meant that Parthekos would soon learn to enjoy the taste of cactus, despite his wishes otherwise. It also meant that these orcs had very different diets than their western cousins. Parthekos finished his meal slowly, since he wouldn't be able to give his sermon until the orcs had finished theirs. Once, everyone had finished, he stood up and loudly called. "Attention please!"
The orcs largely ignored him. Generally, it took a great deal more than loud shouting to get an orc's attention. Parthekos rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighed, and grabbed two large metal plates that had been used in the meal. He clanged them together loudly and shouted, "All right, you tarks, pay attention!" That did the trick. Well, at least a few them glanced his way this time. Taking that as a signal of the most attention he would be getting out of the orcs, Parthekos launched into his sermon.
"First, I wish to thank you all for taking me in, despite having no real need to do so, especially considering that I add very little of practical value to your tribe. I fully intend, as time goes on, to become more of an aid to you all, though for now I am happy to help the elders transcribe their stories.
"Meanwhile, in my free time, I intend to do what I was sent here to do; tell you of my religion. If I cannot do this, then I have no real purpose here and will leave. I don't intend to force you to listen, let alone believe, but I do ask that I be allowed to speak my mind. Maybe, what I say you will find worth considering. I intend to start today, with the creation myth told by the priests of Azao."
"Who?" called a rough voice from the crowd.
Parthekos smiled gently. "If you want to learn who, then you should stay in listen."
The orc spat on the ground. "As if I have time for that. I'll leave you and the Dêkagirtarkû to say your silly stories."
Parthekos saw an unfortunate amount of agreement with the orc. However, he wasn't that worried. He knew that Azao would not have given him an easy mission, but at the same time he wouldn't give a devout devotee like Parthekos an impossible task either. And Parthekos knew that in a group like the orcs, where so much of their spirituality had been destroyed by Sauron, they would love something to believe. So, without further delay, he launched into his tale.
The Universe began with the birth of Croqi, the goddess of time. Croqi is the mother of all the other gods. Without her, they would not exist. Thus, she is respected and feared by all the other gods. As the goddess of Time, she has a wide and varied power set that makes her the most powerful of gods. Stories are told about her having the ability to destroy all other gods, but that's a tale for another day. Once she was born, events could happen and could cause further events to happen.
One of these immediate effects was the creation of Croqi's three children. These gods are collectively known as the Timely Ones, owing to their close relationship to Croqi. The first creation of Croqi was the creation of the Universe, Eä, also known as Dupri. Soon after, Croqi birthed a structure for Dupri, known as N'zogu, the god of order. Created in equal fashion as N'zogu, to be his opposite, was M'lat, the god of chaos.
Everything within this universe, down to you and me, is contained with Dupri. Therefore, Time, Order, and Chaos are not truly part of this world, be can act above and beyond it. Dupri is widely considered the second most powerful of the gods, owing to her containing literally everything. It is best not to anger Dupri, for the consequences of doing so could be catastrophic.
N'zogu is a being of pure law and order. He works constantly to keep Dupri the same; to ensure that nothing new happens. He also works hard to counter the actions of M'lat and prevent Dupri from being destroyed by his actions. Every law of this universe is decided by him, and it is him we can thank for our lives, for we cannot survive without order.
M'lat is his pure opposite in fashion. He seeks to upset N'zogu's delicate balance by creating new things. He makes constant changes to Dupri's eternal state so that nothing stays the same. In a bizarre way, we also can thank him for our lives. If not for M'lat, the Universe would have stayed the same as when it was first made, and Arda and all of the races would not exist.
Now, N'zogu and M'lat fought over Dupri, and their battle continued for many generations. During this time, Croqi was the leader of the gods, the pinnacle being to be worshipped. However, Croqi soon faded to the background, content to let her children rule. She left the universe to a private sanctum known as Shindi. There, she fell into a deep slumber. The few tales of her before her leaving I shall tell, and also of the three times when she has left her slumber.
In her absence, her three children had many children to use as weapons in their fight. This next generation of gods are known as the primordials. They are the intrinsic elements that make up this universe, though they may not all seem this way. Their combinations have created a further generation of gods known as the Elder Gods, but they do not concern this tale.
N'zogu had the fewest children. His children were Lupinq, the God of balance, Sarkai, the goddess of ice, Kanjing, the goddess of sleep, and Heizdi, the goddess of death. Together, with his four children, N'zogu works to ensure that Dupri remains constant and stable. Making up for the fact that he has so few children is the counterpoint that Heizdi is the strongest primordial. Nonetheless, Dupri does have a tendency to Chaos because of this weakness.
Dupri had more children than N'zogu, although still not as many as M'lat. Her children were Sermri the god of earth, Nuchua, the god of love, Zau, the goddess of life, Xulping, the goddess of light, Niphon, the god of song, and Tyriq, the goddess of darkness. Similar to the weakness of Order having fewer children, because the Universe had a middling amount of children, Xulping was the second strongest of the primordials.
M'lat had the most children of the Timely Ones. His children were known as Gonar'kai, the god of fire, Gufanz, the god of lightning, Bedao, the god of Passion, Roszs, the god of air, Bitra, the goddess of water, Rizif, the goddess of mystery, Sardak, the god of ruin, and Shu'an, the goddess of metal. Because M'lat had the most children, Gonar'kai was the third strongest of the primordials.
Now, the primordials themselves created many children under their grand domains, and this third generation, the Ancients, are myriad as the stars. Later, I shall go into more detail of their existence, but for now all that is needed is that they exist. Under this time, while Heizdi would normally have been considered the main god to worship, owing to her seclusive nature, Xulping was the one worshipped.
Time passed, Croqi took a rare break from her slumber to decree that there needed to be primordials that were neutral in the conflicts of the Timely Ones. These two gods were called the Sun and the Moon. Together, they are known as the Cælestis. Between the two of them, they work hard to keep the balance even. However, because there are three sides to this conflict, there is no perfect balance. The god of the sun is Azao, and the goddess of the moon is Latao. Because they were created to balance the primordials, they are considered stronger than the others and are today the main gods worshipped. Tomorrow, I shall talk of Croqi, and the creation of the Cælestis.
After his tale had finished, Parthekos surveyed what was left of his crowd. Not so surprisingly, few of the orcs remained once he began speaking. However, Parthekos was encouraged by the small number that was there. He was confident that numbers would only grow.
One orc came up to him as the others also drifted away. He made a low bow before Parthekos. "It's hard fer me ta say, but something about what ya said hit me hard. The idea of a struggle between order 'n' chaos, y'know. Today, I, Bolozji, become your first convert."
Parthekos smiled. "You have made a wise choice. May Azao shine upon you, Bolozji." The smile didn't leave Parthekos face until he was deep in sleep. At least, he had begun to accomplish something.
Finding her way into the center of the city proved to more of a challenge than Altariel had thought it would be. First of all, the ruined city had no logical structure to its streets. They weren't arrayed in rings, like Minas Tirith. Nor were they set out in a gridded structure, like some of the cities of Harad that Mermacil liked to talk about. The streets wandered whatever way they wanted, and Altariel was left to guess where the center of the city was.
In any other weather, the direction of the streets wouldn't have been much of a problem, for there were few walls and buildings still standing completely. The center of the city would not have been visible, but it would have at least been guessable. However, as they got closer to the center, the snow came down faster and faster. The wind began blowing faster as well, until they were near walking through a blizzard.
The cold bit fiercely, making both Sam and Altariel wish they could stop and find some source of heat. The snow blew into their eyes, making it near impossible to see. Over the howling of the wind, they could not have heard each other even if they were talking. Neither of them had the energy to do so.
Several times, they were nearly killed by orcs that were able to use their senses better than Altariel. Only the glow of Sting saved them from a grisly fate. However, once they knew the orcs were there, Altariel was able to defeat them. The orcs were not very well coordinated. Many of the groups only seemed to have found them by pure chance. Altariel hypothesized that whatever that voice was only loosely controlled the orcs.
After a few hours, they bumped into a group of orcs that was a little different than the rest. First, one of the orcs was wearing a maroon sash, as though to signify that there was something special about him. He also had a differently shaped sword than the other orcs.
He held up a hand, and the other orcs around him formed a circle around Altariel and Sam. At least, Altariel assumed as much. She couldn't see half the orcs due to the ever-falling snow. She slowly eased Sting out of its scabbard, and Sam did the same with his sword, turning around to protect Altariel's back.
The strange orc spoke, his rough voice ringing loudly through the ruined city. "I am Taburz, captain of the King's armies in this city."
"You mean Strider?" asked Sam, bewildered. "Why would he appoint an orc to rule this city?"
The orc laughed, a cruel mocking sound that set Altariel's ears on edge. The other orcs joined in, jeering at Sam. "Silly, fatling," he said. "No, not your impotent King on his throne of quicksilver. I speak of the power of Angmar; the Witch-king."
Now it was Altariel's turn to be confused. "The Witch-king? Is he not dead?"
The orc lowered his voice. "Garr, that's the truth. Nonetheless, he appointed my father captain, and when my father died I became captain. No one else had given us rule." His voice dropped even lower. "Until IT came."
"You mean that voice…" ventured Sam.
"Quiet, fool!" hissed the orc. "Yes, that's the thing of which I speak. It came here several years ago, ruling us in its iron, alien, grip. We have been seeking our release ever since then. I think that our day has come."
Altariel raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, letting the orc explain himself. "I believe that we can come to a sort of agreement, and work together to unseat IT. You will stop killing us and focus your attention to IT. In return, we will stop attacking you and lead you to the center."
"Seems fair enough," said Altariel. "What's the catch?"
Taburz grimaced. "Seems like not all of my lads like the idea of letting you two off free once all's said and done. Thus, I need to transfer power over to you, in a truly orcish fashion. Just to show the boys that you've got what it takes to be an orc."
"That doesn't sound nearly so nice at all," said Sam.
The captain grinned again. "Oh, I think you'll like this fine enough," he said, speaking directly to Altariel. "It's simple-we fight."
This time, Altariel raised both eyebrows. "A fight? With what conditions?"
"I'll let you chose those, as the challenged. Got to follow proper procedure, or what kind of orc army are we?"
"A frickin' real one, that's what," shouted a voice from behind Altariel. Taburz wisely ignored the comment, as well as the snickering that followed after. Altariel noticed that Sam was also struggling to contain his laughter, much to her and the orcs' amusement.
"Very well. We'll fight now, here, with swords. To the blood."
The orc laughed again, in a somewhat nicer tone. "Short and to the point. Much like most of my fights. I like it. Also, I'm rather relieved it's not a fight to the death."
"Also, I'd like it if your men backed off to one side, and my second here went to the other side of the street. I must admit I still have some qualms trusting you."
"Hell, you think I do not feel the same way? I'll agree to that. I doubt there's much harm Baggy over there can do."
It took all of Sam's self-control not to throw himself at Taburz. Instead, he shoved his hands under his armpits to keep them warm, then stalked off the one side while Taburz's minions crept off to the other side. Taburz began stretching in preparation for his duel. Altariel did the same.
Once the two of them were significantly warmed up, they bowed to each other, then they drew their swords and were at it. Even after all his time spent with the Fellowship and keeping peace up in the Shire, Sam had never seen sword play anywhere near this level. Altariel and Taburz were insanely fast and strong, and yet neither of them could land a blow on the other.
Though no one there knew it, the fighters were most likely the strongest mortal swordsmen alive at this time. Taburz had been sword fighting from a very young age, and his father's position had allowed him to spend most of his time growing up learning how to fight. He had first honed his skill defending the ruins of Carn Dûm from raiders to the North, and then later on when the orcs splintered into fragments. He had fought long to regain his title as Captain, and he was determined not to lose it.
Altariel, on the other hand, had not trained to be at this position. Some frightening combinations of genetics and perhaps a little extraordinary will had worked to give her inborn skill unmatched by any other. Had Altariel even for a year trained at fighting this wouldn't have been at all a fair match. However, the reality of Altariel's status in the world, as well as her job and what she had done for most of her life prior to fleeing north had left her unable to learn. Instead, she fought as hard as she could for her safety.
For most of the fight, Taburz was on the offensive. He attacked with cold, calculated precision, guiding each strike towards a weakness in his opponent's defense. Altariel, on the other hand, seemed to be reacting to each strike as it came. Each time, though, her defense was superb. She even got in a few counterattacks after leaving Taburz off balance.
The two fighters covered most of the street, doing their best not to slip on the cold snow. Altariel did go down once, but she rolled quickly out of the way and hammered at Taburz before he could exploit that opening. They went back to their pattern.
Finally, Taburz misjudged Altariel's defense. He struck, but she was prepared for him and countered quickly. Taken by surprise, Taburz could not get his defense in time. Altariel slashed at his chest and scored a hit. Surprised, Taburz fell flat on the snow.
He panted heavily. "All right. You've done it, Captain." He paused. "Say, you never told me your name."
Altariel was silent for a few moments as she tried to regain her breath. "Altariel. Altariel Brannonion."
Taburz smiled. "Well, Captain Altariel, I think you have a bright future as a swordswoman ahead of you." He stood up and spat on his hand. He grinned again and extended it. Altariel mimicked his actions and shook his hand.
Taburz let go, sheathed his sword, and sprinted toward the center. "Angmar!" he shouted. The other orcs echoed his call, and along with Sam and Altariel, they hustled in toward the center of town. Other orcs joined them along the way, until they had practically an entire host behind them. For the first time, Altariel felt as though she could succeed. It even felt as though the snowfall was slowing.
A/N: So, I'm doing NaNoWriMo again this year. That means I'll be updating a lot for this month. We may even reach the end of the tale this year. Thanks for reading; if you enjoyed the story, please review!