Dancing with the Devil in the pale moonlight

"If you can keep your head when all around you are losing theirs,
it's possible you haven't grasped the situation."
-- Jean Kerr, Please Don't Eat The Daisies

The Towers of Thangorodrim, Angband Fortress, far northern Beleriand

Alun wasn't terribly sure if his digital watch was even working here, although the seconds and the hours moved on, there seemed to be no relief from the darkness which he had at first assumed was night. Now, after what seemed to be, according to his own body clock and the watch, many hours still the sky did not grow light. This was a place in perpetual darkness, although given the chill that he felt pervading his very bones once away from the fire in the huge grate, he thought that perhaps wherever it was, it was definitely far in the north and therefore the sun was perhaps weaker there.

If he went to the unglazed narrow window and peered out, he could just make out white patches here and there which were probably snow. The dark, serrated peaks of the mountains that he could just make out against the dark sky soared threateningly above him. Whatever moon or stars that might have been suspended in the sky behind the backdrop of the cruel peaks were covered in that faint wash of red, almost as though they had been painted out with blood. The air was so keen that he couldn't remain in the open aperture for very long and soon sought the relative warmth and light thrown out by the fire.

Of the ground he saw nothing much at all. Watch fires glowed red here and there, dotted around the immediate area of the building he was in and vague shadowed shapes could be seen moving about their business, but the almost depthless blackness prevented him from seeing if it was an army encamped there or just the servants of this Sauron and his master.

He'd never had much interest in history and this place seemed very medieval. It was difficult to place the dimension in any other era than perhaps the Dark Ages or even earlier. The inhabitants obviously practised and believed in magic though, that much was for certain if Sauron's door opening talents were anything to go by.

Trying to engage the servants in conversation proved to be a fruitless task. They brought hot water and surprisingly soft, white towels in utter silence and any attempt by him to pass the time of day with them was met with an uncomprehending stare from those dark, liquid eyes. Also, all of the servants he had seen so far were male, but if this was as 'primitive' a time a he thought it was and the servants were of Eastern or Arabic origins, their women were probably off-limits or kept in harems.

The soap they brought with the water looked quite rustic but smelled strongly of herbs, not unpleasant it had to be said, and quite refreshing. He stripped to the waist and had a thorough wash. It was while he was finishing rough drying his hair which he had dunked in the water that he suddenly became aware of another presence in the room. He cursed under his breath and turned on the spot to find Sauron seated not far away watching him with apparent interest. He gestured to the bed and Alun could see that there were some clean garments laid across the bed. He put the shirt on without comment, noting that it seemed to be made of very soft grey suede leather and instead of buttons; it had criss-cross ties at the neck.

For the first time Sauron had pushed the cowl back and revealed his face to be anything but the horror that Alun had at first imagined. Instead his features were even and delicately sculpted, his skin was pale and almost translucent and his eyes, although pale, seemed to change from silvery to green as the firelight flickered in their depths. His hair was black, but the light reflected off it giving it the appearance of being shot through with blue highlights and although the mass of it was hidden under the robes, Alun got the impression that it was very long.

Alun's surprise must have registered on his face because Sauron shot him a smile which was disarming in its beauty. "I gather you were expecting something altogether more monstrous." He said smoothly. Alun said nothing but kept a steady gaze on his companion. "Ah…a man who likes eye contact I see. Very good, however I see your surprise at my appearance and have made my own conclusions. You have perhaps heard things of me which were less than complimentary from ancient tales handed down to your own time."

That did surprise Alun quite a bit. This creature was basically assuming that Alun knew he was something from the myths and legends of ancient times of earth or Arda. On the other hand it also was entirely possible that Sauron now knew of his conversation with the Vala and was assuming that they had bad-mouthed him. Either way, he had to be very careful to remain neutral. One thing was certain, Sauron did not realise that he and his contemporaries had been relegated as fairytale characters to the imaginary tales and world of an English professor.

"I like to make my own mind up about things…and people in the absence of hard evidence." Alun said quietly. "That's an integral part of my profession."

Sauron smiled again and interest flickered in the depths of those pale eyes. "Profession? Ah, yes. As I understand it you are in something called 'law enforcement'. Rather a fascinating notion, people deliberately hired to enforce the laws. I find the notion quite appealing."

Alun didn't confirm or deny Sauron's assumption. Instead he remained quiet, but maintained eye contact. Sauron gestured at the small table beside him on which was a silver tray with a finely crafted crystal carafe filled with a deep, almost purple, liquid and two deep red goblets beautifully wrought with filigree silver. If he was annoyed with Alun's reticence he didn't show it. "Would you care for some wine?" He continued smoothly.

A slight flare of alarm sounded at the back of Alun's mind. He wasn't averse to tasting a good vintage and he imagined that this was one, but Irmo's caution about food and drink made him think twice. Despite his concerns though, he nodded in acceptance. If he started to refuse things now it would perhaps arouse Sauron's suspicions unduly. He decided that if Sauron had some of the wine, he would drink it. If not, well then he would just have to pretend to drink. He needed all his faculties to be present and correct.

Sauron handed him a glass and to Alun's intense relief also took a glass and sipped from it. "We Maiar do not have need for such corporeal things as food and drink, but I admit to a delight in them." He said reflectively.

Alun sipped cautiously and the delicious bouquet, reminiscent of berries and spice with an underlay of dark rich chocolate exploded on his palate. He took a deeper, more appreciative sip. "This is good stuff." He finally said and Sauron laughed softly.

"And there you were thinking I would poison you." He chided gently. "No matter what my other faults are, I would never sully good wine with opiates or poisons. That would be such a waste do you not think?" He didn't wait for an answer, but instead he bent forward conspiratorially. "And now, since the pleasantries are completed, you and I have some things to discuss. Events are marching on and original plans have a way of being overtaken by them."

Now they came to it, and what's more it sounded as though Sauron's original intentions had changed for some reason. Alun's heart sank into his boots.

Sauron smiled again like the Cheshire cat and if Alun had cared to look closer he might have seen the true depths of hell flickering in those pale eyes. He was not called Gorthaur the Cruel for nothing.

ooOoo

A small valley in Beleriand, post-battle

Now that the battle was over and the dust had settled Gil-galad's healers began to move among the fallen in order to assess the injured and count the dead.

Eonwe stood up shakily from where he and Glorfindel had collapsed in exhaustion after battling the Valarauko. His face was black with soot and a faint smell of burnt hair hung around his nostrils which told him that at some stage he had been singed by the heat surrounding the fallen Maia.

It had to be said that Glorfindel was not in much better shape, but unlike Eonwe he couldn't unflesh himself and remake his body. As Eonwe bent down and offered the dazed Elflord his hand he couldn't help grinning as he noticed that the very bottom of Glorfindel's golden hair as it stuck out of the helm was blackened and singed.

Glorfindel allowed himself to be hauled to a standing position and thanked the Maia for his help. He then yanked his helm off, lifted a hank of hair and surveyed it mournfully. "Burnt!" He said, putting a wealth of emotion into that one word.

Eonwe squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. "I did warn you." He said with a grin.

A smile replaced the mournful expression on Glorfindel's fair face. "I know." He said ruefully and then glanced around him at the burnt patch of grass where the Valarauko had been. As he and Eonwe joined the others, he caught a few admiring glances from those warriors who had previously rolled their eyes whenever the Balrog incident was mentioned. He turned to Eonwe. "But it was worth it! Maybe now they will not make fun of me whenever Balrogs are mentioned!"

"Perhaps not." Eonwe said. "But then I think they like to tease you since you always rise to the bait." He placed his arm around Glorfindel's shoulders and gave him a hug. "You did well. Let no one say otherwise. I was grateful for the extra help."

Glorfindel's beautiful smoke blackened face lit up under the praise. He executed a graceful bow, hand on heart. "You are most welcome my Lord. Any time!"

"Well… if we are quite finished with the back patting." Gil-galad approached them; his face wreathed in smiles. "There is work to be done here." He pointed at the warriors who were busy moving the dead orcs into a huge pile which would be set fire to later. Other warriors were lifting the injured away so that the healers could see to their wounds.

Eonwe saluted him with his blade. "Yes boss." There was a wicked note in his voice and a twinkle in his dark blue eyes. "Are there many dead?"

Gil-galad raised one dark eyebrow in puzzlement. "Boss? What is boss? We lost two warriors. Few enough, but I will not say only two. Even one is too much of a loss. I am awaiting an assessment from the healers as to severity of injuries."

"What of the orc with the weapons?" Eonwe could not keep the anxiety out of his voice.

"He tried to run when the battle started, as we thought." Erestor answered the question. "Unfortunately he detected the movement of the orc battle party just as I was creeping up on him. When he stood up and realised that he was between two battle groups he obviously knew that his only chance for escape was to try and sneak through the hullabaloo of the battle. I managed to wound him before we were both overrun with orc and then I lost him as I fought for my life. However…" He grinned and indicated the roughly wrapped bundle at his feet. "He left something behind!"

Eonwe drew in a sharp breath and bent down to unwrap the bundle. The others stood with bated breath as he counted and then recounted to make sure. Finally he stood up and his face was concerned. "Apart from the two assault rifles we have in our possession, one other is missing." He gazed into the far distance as if trying to focus on the errant orc. "I can only think he has it with him, if he has survived the battle."

Gil-galad spoke quietly to Celeborn who nodded and went over to the warriors piling up the orc dead. They immediately began to search through the bodies, obviously looking for Thadak.

Gil-galad drew Eonwe away from the others. "I presume that even one weapon would be dangerous in the hands of Morgoth?"

Eonwe nodded grimly. "Melkor was, and still is, one of the most powerful to sing his part of the music. We should not underestimate him under any circumstances." He noted Gil-galad's surprise that he called Morgoth by his original name. Eonwe smiled, but it was not a cheery smile. "I do not ask pardon for speaking the name of Melkor rather than Morgoth. If names have power then the apparently lesser one given to him here has detracted from, rather than aided, his reputation. As Melkor he would at least have retained a reputation of being a Vala and therefore powerful. As Morgoth he seems somehow lessened and more mortal and therefore vulnerable in the eyes of those here in Endor. However he is not mortal and he is not vulnerable to those not of the Ainur. Many brave Eldar have tried, including Feanor whose worth in that endeavour should not be decried. Even I do not have the power to destroy him. That belongs to his fellow Valar or to Eru. My instructions are to restrain him and bring him back in chains to face judgement by his peers."

Ereinion felt surprised and flattered at the Herald's confidence in him. "You have a point. I must admit that we tend to think of him as much more powerful than we are, but able to be killed. It had not occurred to me that even had the Eldar of Middle Earth managed to capture him we would not have had any power to restrain him." This notion was very disturbing indeed.

"Indeed not. You would also not have had anywhere to keep him that he could not escape from. It was Feanor's outrage and fury over the Silmarils that kept him from seeing that."

"Ah yes, those dratted jewels. Valinor has a great deal to answer for, as do the Valar themselves." Ereinion's expression was grim. "Yet as I hear the stories passed down, yeni passed before the Valar came to speak to the people after the trees were destroyed." He couldn't keep the chiding note from his voice. "What were they doing all that time? Did they not realise that the elves would have been lost and fearful in the dark with no explanations?"

Eonwe now realised fully how the actions of his masters and mistresses, the Valar, must have seemed and must seem even now to those who relied upon them. More so since he had actually set foot on Middle Earth and had dealings with the folk who dwelt here. If the Valar had acted sooner and not been so inflexible perhaps events might have taken a different turn. Perhaps even had they banned Finwe from re-marrying. He sighed to himself. The 'if only's' and 'what if's' were never-ending and futile.

"I will not say that their actions were the right ones." He said quietly, trying to choose his words carefully. "They were grieving the loss of the trees and it was a grievous loss indeed. Time means little to the Ainur even by the standards of the Eldar. They were so grief-stricken that by the time it occurred to them to try and reassure everyone, the damage was done. Believe me, I and my fellow Maiar did try to make them see that they needed to make some appearance or some statement sooner rather than later, but we could not get past their grief. We did move among the Eldar ourselves to try and bring some measure of reassurance, but more than a few felt that the Valar had abandoned them when the light went out. It was not so of course, but I can see why they felt that."

Ereinion laughed dryly. "The Valar do not always get it right Herald. It is a sad fact that most of their mistakes have impacted badly on Arda rather than in the Blessed Realm. Why do you think we are so stubborn and hold to our little patches of land here and why Lady Galadriel and her brothers left in the first place? They felt constrained by the Valar. Overlooked and told what to do, where to go and how to do everything. Treated like children. We who are here now and have lived and suffered will not suffer to be treated like silly children. That is why we fight and why we stay. Here, we are at least in some command of our destinies and lives."

Eonwe could not answer him. He felt distress, of course, at Gil-galad's cynicism over the beings he, Eonwe, had served so loyally since the beginning, before the children even came. However his interaction with the more worldly Gary and his discussions with the people of Arda had tempered and changed his blind loyalty to the Valar who apparently had feet of clay and made mistakes like anyone else.

A vague notion began to occur to him that things would not go back to being the same when he eventually returned to his duties in Valinor and it was a bleak notion. He had changed. He could feel it deep within him. Gary had changed him; the fact that he had now fathered a child had changed him. Just Kim existing and capturing his love had changed him. Arda and the people here had changed him.

Even as the notion occurred a feeling of sadness swept over him, a feeling that was echoed far away in Oiolosse on the slopes of Taniquetil, and he knew that his Lord had heard every word between him and the High King. Manwe did feel regret for things left undone and some guilt at actions taken which could have been better thought out and Eonwe suddenly knew where this would lead them all. He knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that after he had brought Melkor back to face judgement, future dealings between Arda and Valinor would be limited and this did not bode well for the brave folk he saw every day around him should darkness arise again for any reason.

But of that he could say nothing. All he could do was feel sorrow and silently renew his oath to bring down their darkest enemy. This time at least.

Celeborn broke into the deep silence that had arisen between the High King and the Herald. "He is not there and there is no sign of the weapon."

Eonwe sighed deeply. "Then he has taken it and gone forward to his destination. We must follow, or I must at least." He gave a wan smile.

"We must." Gil-galad asserted firmly. "It is our future at stake as much as yours or future Arda's. But first we take rest and some nourishment, see to the wounded and we will set a pyre. I will not have the good earth sullied by these vile and abhorrent creatures rotting into it."

Eonwe nodded wearily and smiled his thanks. "All things of flesh return to the earth my Lord." He said softly. "It is the way of all things. Even the orc can rot and turn to dust and his body can replenish the ground like any other creature of flesh and bone."

"Well the ground will just have to make do with the ashes." Came Gil-galad's cheerful reply as he turned towards the healer who was bringing him a situation report on the wounded.

Cirdan chuckled. "Come along Master Herald. He is in one of his stubborn moods and hell bent on seeing to his men, which leaves me to see to you. We have set a small fire and have some cordial which should put the colour in your cheeks, if not hair on your chest! That's supposing we can get there before the Chief drinks it all."

Eonwe wrinkled his nose and absently touched his chest. "Hair on my chest? Why would I…." He heard Gary laughing inside his head. "Never mind." He followed Cirdan towards a small group crouched around a small camp-fire.

You'll never guess who I have standing in front of me. Gary said wickedly in Eonwe's mind.

ooOoo