It was dark inside the tower of Orthanc. The candles, the lamps, the burnt out crusted embers of long gone logs, lying like fallen corpses inside of baroque and ornate fireplaces. But all was about to change. Saruman, he was at his balcony, analysing the proceedings of his new kingdom. Isengard was rising.
Oh Isengard! His life, his home. A great ring-wall of stone. Iron doors, stone ramparts, his cruel and wicked orc sentinels guarding its parameter. His realm lay behind the towering cliffs of the great White Mountains beyond. Behind towering cliffs, this forbidden kingdom, a secret world, stood concealed behind the shadow of the mountain.
A great circle of rock, hollow like a vast and shallow bowl, three kilometres from rim to rim. Once it had been green and filled with beautiful avenues, with groves of fruitful trees, and with all manner of nuts and berries adorning them like the jewels on a silver crown. But no green grew here now. They needed the wood for fuel, and the foundries were just now kicking into life.
There stood the tower, fashioned by the builders of old. How could the men of this ignorant world have built such a thing? Even Saruman had to marvel at their skill and vision. But, the strength of men had broken and failed long ago. Their time, every races time, was now over. The tower stood as a symbol of his power. Black and gleaming, as if marble had been joined with granite into a single form of rock. Four mighty piers stood together, as if fixed and welded in place. Near the summit they opened into protruding horns, their pinnacles sharp as the points of spears, keen-edged, sharp as any knife or sword. Between them was a narrow space, a flat floor of polished stone, etched with strange runes and ancient symbols.
But the skill of man had faded. They built little huts now. Built from wood and dung, wattle and daub. No longer could they build mighty towers, wonders that contended with the mountains themselves for the dominance of the sky. Saruman missed these days, he would see them rise once more. He would win this war, sweep aside the old world, a place of decay and primitivity. Saruman remembered better times, greater times, and longed for the start of such an era to begin again. The old powers had failed, he would sweep them aside. Survival of the fittest, they had limped on for far too long!
Under his rule the world would become strong again. They would conceive of wonders once more. He would grow in power, and work only to save the world. Then claim it for himself. He would even outgrow and challenge the power of the Dark Lord himself. Only then would the power of evil be vanquished, and the world grow strong again. Just as it should, just as it deserved. The world deserved more than elves and men and dark lords had been able to provide. Saruman knew, that he was the one being who could achieve all this. No other was worthy, only he. He would be irresistible. It had to be true, didn't it? It was, and the world would know his magnificence.
He turned and went into the dark study. With a wave of his hand, candles lit and oil lamps exploded into life once more. He closed his open palm into a fist and the unburned coals of a freshly prepared fire hissed and caught alight. He had light now to work. So much work there was to do. He strode over to the pillar where a great relic lay. The stone of Orthanc, the Palantir. It was a work of sheer wonder and curiosity. Ethereal energies, beyond even his power and comprehension, danced and flowed through the perfect blackness of its crystalline surface. No light could penetrate its surface, and he knew of no force that could destroy it.
Walking up the final stair to his throne, he turned and put his staff to one side. He put his hand down to support his weight, and eased himself down. He sighed deeply, then started to commune with the device. He could feel his energies passing through the stone, and its energies passing through him, feeding Saruman with knowledge and showing him sights that no one else could see. The dark lord was close at hand, it would be easy work to summon him.
"The power of Isengard stirs in the night. The voices of your servants cry out, cry out your great name, Sauron, Lord of Mordor". The energies of the stone began to alter. Flame was forming, chasing away the shadow. "We call out for advice, seeking your council, for there are forces at work that we cannot comprehend!" And the Eye of Sauron appeared within the stone. For he knew what was troubling his puppet wizard.
Saruman the White, fallen Miar, thought himself so wise! He believed that he could hide his thoughts from him, his master. Thought he could challenge him! How arrogant he was, how misguided. But the wizard had his uses, and he had vision, so strong that even Sauron could not match it. A resource to be exhausted, nothing more. Sauron was ready to speak. His dark and gritty voice, rasping, filled with wisdom, inspiring dread in all that heard it!
"You are wise, to seek my council. You speak of forces not known of this world. Not known since the beginning of time, not since the founding of our world. A strange and terrible power, walks amongst the people of the west. I have sensed him, as have you. The ring calls out to me, and speaks of a stranger from afar. I see much Saruman, more than you know. This power, this man, man from another age, and man from another world..."
The visions faded for a moment. The stones did that sometimes. Saruman was confused, what did Sauron mean by another world? "...Warrior, with strength of one hundred warriors. The Annihilator, of armies and of kingdoms. We have a new enemy. The elves possess a new weapon, this warrior, who wields the strength to change the cause of events that are yet to come. He is the Spartan, the man who would walk the stars and duel with God and the warriors of heaven. He walks with the ring, and guards the one who carries it, the foolish Halfling...but, not so foolish as to recruit most powerful allies..."
Saruman sighed. The Dark lord did like the sound of his own voice. He had to interrupt him. "How can he be stopped?" he asked with authority. He heard Sauron hiss in contempt, and he felt the Palantir burn in his hand. The temperature kept increasing. Saruman winced, he couldn't keep holding it much longer. Sauron was testing him!
"...for all his strength and all his skill, he is but one man. This one man, of course, is mortal..." Sauron continued, suddenly sending the temperature of the Plantir up a dozen degrees more. Saruman cried out, the crystal was burning his hands, but he would endure it. He would not show weakness here!
"...you were to build me an army, worthy of my sovereignty. You must now build me warriors, worthy of this Spartan. Strong, and gifted. You shall end him, quickly, or you...shall...D-I-I-I-E-E-E-E...!" And on that, Saruman had heard enough. With the image of the Spartan burning white hot inside his mind, he lost his grip. The Palantir rolled away from him, clattering down the stairs, bouncing and scratching across his dark marble floor. It lay there on the ground, spitting, steaming.
Nursing his hands slightly, red and angry, he stood up and took his staff. He walked over to the now steaming seeing stone. He picked it up, turned it over in his hands in curiosity, a little shocked. The Palantir was not searingly hot any more. It was freezing cold!
Wondering how this could be, he placed it back onto its pedestal, gently. Slowly pulling the cloth over it, the Istari went over to his throne once more. He started to think things over. How could he create warriors strong enough to defeat the Spartan? He knew all about him now. Sauron had seen much through the power of the ring. His armour, his strength, speed, skill with a blade and crossbow...a crossbow, where in Arda had he gotten one of those from? Elven spies must have stolen orc designs, the thieves! He would deal with their treachery later!
As he pondered on what next to do, an orc came weaselling through the door to his study. Saruman knew why the creature was here "Master, they-" "Yes, yes my servant. I will come to see my new soldiers. See them for what they truly are..." But they would surely be nowhere near as impressive of what he was currently formulating within his mind. The Spartan had forced his hand now...
"Quietly now! It's a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our passage may go unnoticed" Gandalf knew the ways of Moria and the tunnels of the Misty Mountains well...too well! Saruman had forced his hand, there was no other path now.
The winding steps and labyrinthine walkways, old abandoned mining systems, rotten cranes and pulley winches. The darkness, the terrible smell, not knowing if an orc or goblin was around the next bend. They had been travelling for two days. Chief was taken aback by how long the tunnels went on for. The narrow passageways began to open up into massive caverns and openings, some natural, others not. It was remarkable. Dwarfs must have been mining here for hundreds of years, if not thousands. Hidden away from the world inside of their mines and forgeries.
Time passed slowly, and the march was dull. Nothing, nothing but the dark and the stink of festering orcs. The darkness, the odd drip of water, a clinking chain, nothing more. The most interesting thing had been on the day before. Frodo had spotted a vein of pure white metal sticking out from the side of rock. He'd never seen ore in its natural state before. He'd gazed at it with wonder. Gimli had noticed too, and was quick to explain.
"The wealth of Moria was never in gold, or fine jewels...it was in mithril! Weapons and armour, quality beyond compare, all but indestructible!" Frodo walked away in wonder. He couldn't help but stroke his vest, hidden beneath his shirt.
Chief had been listening too meanwhile. He watched with curiosity as Gimli went to inspect the metal. As he stroked it, Gimli noticed rough pick marks in the rock, and how there was nearly no rock underneath the ore for roughly nine inches. The rubble was messily strewn on the ground...how unusual. Dwarfs were precise and tidy miners, the team extracting this ore must have abandoned it in a hurry.
Looking round, he could see other veins of mithril, protruding far, rough pick marks all around. He worried for his people now. What tragedy had occurred here? How far had the orcs penetrated their hold? Worst of all his fears, how many of his kin were dead? It wasn't pleasant to think about. He walked off, to catch up Gandalf. Leaving only Chief.
Chief was fascinated. With all the metal he had seen in his life, he had only been in a mine once. "Chief, this ore does not match any known type in the UNSC database. You couldn't break a sample off could you? A little sliver? Who knows what applications it may have? I think we might have just discovered a brand new compound type, maybe even a new element!" Her heart began to sing, oh how wonderful it would be if they had made such a discovery.
There was a finger of the metal just sticking out, smooth, like a handle. Perfect. Chief grabbed it, and pulled. Nothing. He tried harder. Still nothing. "Tough stuff" Chief remarked. "Come on Spartan, hurry! We have to stay with the group" Cortana said. Chief stepped back a few feet. Then as hard as he could, he kicked with all his worth. The ore didn't sheer, but the rock behind did. With a soft crack, the dagger like finger fell from the rock, and stuck into the rock beneath like a dagger into flesh.
Chief pulled it out, and inspected it. "Really tough!" Chief said in surprise. Just how strong was this compound? Ore was typically weak and brittle. This stuff was stronger than chromium-steel. He wondered, how strong any refined alloy could be. Was it some sort of titanium based chemical? He didn't have any idea. The UNSC would be certainly interested in this compound...
A short while later, they had come across a long-winding stairway. Gandalf stopped dead upon seeing it. For the first time since he had first walked these halls, he didn't know where he was. It was the first time Chief had seen him lost over the whole journey so far. He couldn't help either, nothing of his scans told him about these passages. Underground cities wasn't something he had prepared for. They were stuck here until they could work out where next to walk.
After about twenty minutes of waiting, having answered a hobbits question about his helmet torch, and a chat about something called Gollum that was following them...creepy! Gandalf had found his way.
"Ahh!" He had suddenly exclaimed, making everyone turn round. "It's this way!" They were off again!
"He's remembered" Merry said excitedly. "No master hobbit...but the air does not smell so foul down here. If in doubt Meriadoc, always follow your nose!"
The hobbit duo glanced at each other in confusion. Pippin turned to look at Chief, giving him a look that seemed to demand explanation. Chief knew where the wizard was coming from. "If these orcs smell as bad as everyone seems to think, then the corridor that doesn't smell probably isn't one of their lairs" The hobbits looked at each other again, thinking "Fair enough" and moved on, quickly gathering up their gear and heading on after Gandalf and the Chief.
Another hour passed by, Chief counting the minutes, every minute, on his HUD. "How deep do these tunnel go?" Sam asked rhetorically. Another 13 minutes later, the tunnel began to widen, then opened up completely. It was a miracle they hadn't encountered any barriers or tunnel collapses. As they reached the end, they found five massive pillars, fallen and broken on the floor in front of them. It was a miracle the pillars hadn't gone and flattened the exit. Again, they were lucky indeed!
"Not strong enough, I guess" Pippin remarked, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't really see, too dark.
"No my lad!" Gimli gasped in disbelief, "These pillars used to hold up one of the many great doorways that lead to another section of the city. The pillars have been torn down, destroyed...to what lengths must Balin have gone to in order to protect our hold?" He felt sick to his stomach. What could have scared his cousin enough to go to such lengths?
Other pillars further away were still standing. They went so high, ascending into the shadows, farther than any man, dwarf, elf, or Spartan could see. Pitch black, apart from the dim light of wizard's staff, burning torches and UNSC LED's throwing any light around the hall. "How can you live in such lightless holes?" Legolas blurted out, an insult aimed straight at Gimli.
"HOLES!" The Dwarf bellowed, but steeled himself a moment later. He wouldn't rise to it. "Rich, coming from an elf of Mirkwood who lives in his own little mountain hole, built by dwarfs no less...but yes, it is too dark! The torches are all out, and what's more..." He nodded up to the rafters of the ceiling, that couldn't be seen. "There are windows up there elf. Glass stained with gold and silver and adorned with great and beautiful crystals. It must be night time. These halls should be filled with glorious light-" "-Or perhaps the dwarfs were too lazy to clear the soot from their fires?" Legolas jabbed back.
The elf was intolerable, what was stuck in his ass? "Well, elf...maybe you should take you're flimsy little bow and-" "Knock it off you two! This is hostile territory!" Chief barked at them, cowing them both into line.
"Indeed John" Aragorn replied. It was essential to stop everyone falling out, they needed each other too much. "More likely, Legolas, Gimli, this hall was occupied by orcs. They despise daylight. They have probably taken the gems from the murals and boarded up the stain glass windows".
Gimli hoped it wasn't true. Had the campaign to retake Moria failed completely? He only hoped his family had survived. Chief knew it was a shame. Moria must have looked like a Cathedral in its heyday. Gandalf knew it to. "Let me risk some more light" He whispered, as his staff glowed all the brighter. Casting light all around the halls.
Everyone marvelled at the remains of the ruined, yet breath-taking hold of the Dwarfs. As the full size and majesty of the hold was revelled, revealing pillars like the skeleton of some ancient, giant beast. It was magnificent. "Behold! The Great Dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf!" Everyone was stunned.
"You could fit a few Pillar of Autumns in here Chief!" Cortana remarked in awe. Now that really put it into context!
The Fellowship stood in the middle of the majestic hallway. Even Legolas was in awe, feeling deep respect for the work that the dwarfs had put into the hold. It was the pillars, nothing but colossal and mighty pillars. As if the entire mountain had been carved and hollowed out. For Chief, it was so similar to something the Forerunners would have constructed. Like the start of some new shield world. Yet the dwarves had achieved all of this with mere shovels and chisels. "Well there's an eye opener and no mistake" An inspired Sam exclaimed.
They all walked, amazed as the hold just kept going and going, watching the shadows dance above them, concealing the ceiling, just out of sight. It was spectacular...
Gimli was weeping, "All is lost now, all is lost!" he kept thinking to himself in despair as he wept.
"...They have taken the bridge, and the second hall..." Awe had turned to horror. As they had turned one of the pillars, they had seen bodies. Dwarf bodies. The orcs were clever, clear the corpses of their kind, leave the dwarven fallen. Twisted skeletons, charred and broken bones covered in spiders webs. A warning, propaganda. Gimli had seen it first, the tomb. He had run to the tomb, and had broken down completely. Three days of worry, anxiety, plus the shock of his loss brought him down.
It was a family member. Chief struggled to relate to the nature of the loss, but he knew all about loss itself. He knew how it felt. "...We have barred the gates. But we cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums...drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out...They are coming!"
Then a crash rang out, a massive sound that made everyone jump. They saw Pippin standing stock still, tense, a pensive look on his face. He had done something! A dwarf corpse had lost its head, and had gone clattering down a well towards the back of the courtyard. Chief picked up a subtle creak, so quite that no one else even heard it. Then the noise grew, and heralded by the piercing, twisting sound of rotten armour, the corpse began to topple over.
A chain, the well mechanism, everything collapsed as the dwarf fell onto it. As the chain flew away from them Chief saw the bucket, cast iron, balanced precariously on the side of the well. "Dammit!" Chief cursed, utterly powerless. The chain went taunt, and the heavy bucket followed everything else down.
No one knew exactly how far it must have fallen. Pippin thought it must have fallen into the centre of the earth. With every crash, and every terrible noise, he felt worse and worse. The further the corpse and bucket fell, the more his guilt rose. Once the noise had finally died away, everyone was too stunned to say anything. Had anything heard it? Orc? Worse? There was no sound, nothing at all.
They had gotten away with it! Hadn't they? Legolas and Aragorn looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Boromir exhaled a long held breath in a very relieved sigh. Pippin hung his head in crippling shame. Chief walked over, poking his head down the well, listening out for anything, anything at all, auto sensors pushed to maximum...there was nothing.
"FOOL of a Took!" Gandalf gasped, slamming the book shut and putting it back down. He was beside himself with anger, but relieved all the same. "Throw yourself down next time and RID us of your STUPIDITY!" he shook his head and began walking off. Hobbits could be brilliant, but could also be a liability!
Pippin looked very ashamed of himself. Chief, right next to him, looking down the well, patted him on the back reassuringly. "Shit happens" He said light heartedly. It would be wrong to be angry with the hobbit. Pip looked up, managing a weak smile.
Then, a moment later, there was a noise.
A single pulsing bass note, deep and resonant, but muffled murmured through the tomb. The sound reminded Chief of a heartbeat, but he knew that wasn't what it was...another one rang out. Louder than the last. A horrified Fellowship turned and looked at the well, where the sound was pulsing from.
Boom...Doom...Boom, Boom, Boom...Doom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom...Faster and louder, every time, rising, like a crescendo.
Then the shrieks started coming. High pitched, and utterly inhuman. It was like listening to Jackals, Chief thought to himself. Even he couldn't help but feel the tension. "Mr Frodo!" Sam gasped, pointing at his sword. Frodo was terrified, the sword was glowing blue.
"Oh..." He gasped, just as the sound of a horde of orcs came blasting through the doorway. Boromir and Chief ran out into the hallway, in order to assess the situation. Chief first, then Boromir. As the Captain of Gondor turned the corner, two arrows shot out at them. Chief saw them, and pulled the captain back fast. One missed Boromir's head by a centimetre, causing him to recoil and growl like a tiger. The second hit Chief in the shoulder, and his armour pulsed a little as the shield absorbed the impact. Causing everyone to gaze at him in wonder. Only the hobbits had seen his shield. Boromir stared at Chief with fear, but there was also gratefulness in his eyes.
"It would take a thousand Chief!" Cortana reassured him. "And another thousand through the visor!" He thought to himself in kind. He had nothing to fear from arrows. But the others did, and it was his duty to defend them.
"Get Back! Both of you!" Gandalf barked, the two did as they were asked. Chief Barricaded the door, slamming two heavy looking axes into the rotten wood. He was improvising now! "That won't hold long!" He assessed, Boromir nodding in agreement. They had to do everything in his power to protect the Hobbits, the others would watch their own backs. Boromir, assisted by Aragorn, drove another more axe, and two Dwarven pikes into the door. Then they Drew back.
Chief unholstered his crossbow, and priming the steel drawstring, laid his first bolt. He stood at the head of the group, silent, motionless, flawlessly disciplined. Gandalf threw his hat and staff to one side, and with an eager roar, drew Glamdring. The Hobbits followed suit, and the others prepared their weapons. The fellowship were ready, Chief was ready.
"Good luck Chief. Remember, there's always surprises in this world!" His AI reminded him.
Chief would be on his guard. He did wonder what would be able to bring him down...but that wasn't his priority. His priority was protecting the Fellowship. And he would give all he had to get that done...