The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 54.1

A Bloody Pursuit

Sterday, 2nd of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Angmar

The remains of Lagodir's sword

I didn't sleep a wink last night. Despite my exhaustion from the day before, a cold wind kept biting into me as we lay, exposed, perched on this wretched height amid these tumbled ruins. I must have looked about as terrible as I felt because everyone kept asking me how I was feeling, to which I responded, "miserable." Probably the one thing in the world that could have done me any good under the circumstances would have been a pot of hot coffee, but of course no one had any, and the discovery of that fact only served to make me miserabler. I plopped myself down with the rest of my companions to discuss the day's plans while trying to improve my demeanor by sneaking a few mouthfuls from Drodie's ale-skin.

I normally wouldn't bother you with all the minutiae I tend to overhear in those types of conversations, Dear Reader, but in this case I couldn't tell you much of what was said anyway since I was in such a foul mood that I was scarcely paying attention. A lot was said (or re-said) about Guloth and where he might have gotten himself to or what he might do next following the collapse of the caverns inside the Rift of Nurz Ghashu, but all I found clear was that no one really knew anything. It also became clear that, if anything useful was to be learned, it would be up to us to do the learning. Iorelen's company was nearly halved by our foray against the Balrog and very few of those who survived were unharmed. We five Outriders had somehow escaped quite intact, and that realization put me in a very different (more grateful) mood than any amount of coffee might have done. I slowly became aware that Iorelen, her arm still in its sling, was advising us to not assume Guloth crushed along with Thaurlach in the rubble, for he was a crafty foe.

"Don't you think we ought to go and look for Guloth, then?" I asked, interjecting myself into the conversation rather awkwardly. The others turned and stared at me.

"Padryc, that's what we've been saying most of this time," Nephyn said in a polite whisper. "Haven't you been listening at all?"

"Oh!" I stammered, "Yes, of course. That is, I only meant that, you know, perhaps it was high time we went and did the looking? The longer we wait, the further away from us he's likely to make himself, is all."

"Quite so," said Iorelen, but the Elf-maid's bright eyes betrayed the smile she was suppressing out of courtesy toward me. "What concerns me is what to do if you manage to overtake your quarry, Master Halfling. 'Tis most unfortunate, but none of us here have any clear idea how to cure your Gondorian friend or if he can be cured. Like as not only Elrond himself could answer that question, but it may be some days ere Malkan, your eagle-friend can return to you with his instructions, for the leagues are long from here to Imladris."

"And yet the hobbit has a point," said Drodie as he gulped ale in between mouthfuls of dried beef. "We cannot simply wait here until the bird comes back -- either we set out to find the patient without the cure or we wait for the cure and lose the patient! But the latter carries the greater risk, at least that is the way I see it." He burped then got a confused look on his face as he realized his ale-skin was lighter than it should have been.

"I would also assent to the former course of action," said Gaelira thoughtfully, but her face was troubled. "I think we shall have to trust that Malkan will make all speed he possibly can and that he will find us swiftly. I do not believe there is any other practical option available to us at this time."

"Then I shall bid you farewell, friends," said Iorelen as she rose to leave us. "I must remain here, for my first duty is to my comrades-in-arms; our wounds are many and grievous. But you five cannot forsake your companion, possessed as he is by this foul wraith. I wish there was more I could do to aid you. I wish, too, that we might have spent longer in each other's company, but evidently Fate would not have it so."

"The valour of you and your warriors will be remembered, Iorelen," said Minasse. "Yours is a story of immense bravery, and we are honoured to have played some small part in it."

"More than a small part," Iorelen replied with a laugh. "But your own story is only beginning, I deem. May the Valar bestow their blessing upon it, mellyn, and may each of you come to see clearly your own parts therein. Namarie."

Once we had gathered our things and said farewell to the rest of the camp, we began the descent down into the valley of Nurz Ghashu. Large sections of the earth were now greatly disturbed, as you might imagine, but that accursed stone disk still lay, unchanged, in the very centre of the dell. I found the quiet unnerving at first, but slowly I began to feel as though it was actually the quiet of peace and not malice... or what malice remained there was now faint and far-off.

The five of us spread out and began to search for any signs that would indicate what might have become of Guloth (and, of course, of Lagodir). I wanted to go with Nephyn, but I knew we'd cover more ground by splitting up. I scanned the earth haphazardly. What was I supposed to be looking for? I was no use as a tracker, and I saw plenty of footprints from us and Iorelen's company all over the place anyway. I shrugged to myself then looked up at the sky, shielding my eyes. Despite a heavy cloud cover, the heavens over Angmar appeared brighter than usual and, after so many days of flitting about in darkness or hunkering in caverns, it seemed almost painfully bright to me. Then I remembered Malkan the eagle, so I searched above me for a moment, but of course there was nothing to see: it was hundreds of miles from here to Rivendell -- even in a straight line. If we were going to receive instructions on how to cure Lagodir from Guloth's influence, we were going to have to be patient. I sighed and allowed my thoughts to wander.

That's when I heard a loud halloo from behind me, to the east. It was Drodie, and he was waving his arms in excitement. The rest of us quickly converged on his location, which was a good ways behind the stone disk and in the shadow of the encircling mountains.

"Here at last we find news!" said the Dwarf, looking quite pleased with himself. "There are none better than a Dwarf for the reading of signs -- if you are among the bones of the earth, that is. See here!" He pointed at a flat slab of unremarkable stone lying, like so many others, in the dust of that valley, then he bowed as a manner of self-congratulation. We watched him bewildered and no one spoke for several moments. A crow cawed mockingly from somewhere overhead.

"Drodie, perhaps you took more ale than was good for you at breakfast?" Nephyn asked him.

"Erm, yes, I happened to notice his ale-skin was looking a bit light," I said, knowing full well I was the reason for it.

"By Durin's Beard!" Drodie cried. "Don't tell me you think that is a stone slab?"

"I don't... what would you have us think it is?" Nephyn replied confusedly.

"Ha!" laughed the Dwarf triumphantly. "Then what do you say to this?" With that, he seized the huge rock at its base with both hands and easily swung it open, as if it were on a hinge! The "rock" remained there, pointing straight upward, while beneath it was revealed a set of stone stairs, descending down into darkness. A thin cloud of dust wafted up to meet us and I gave it a sniff.

"Phew!" I said as I waved the stuff away from my face. "Why, that reminds me of that infernal Rift we were just in! Can't you smell the sulfur and ash?"

"Aye, but there's a good deal of stone dust in that smell also, little hobbit," said Drodie with a broad smile. "Thanks to the cave-in, naturally. And so here is our answer: Guloth escaped through some secret back-channel, but he emerged here and I'd wager made his getaway starting at this very spot."

"I doubt you no longer, Master Dwarf!" said Nephyn, who was now a short distance away and bent over double to examine the ground. "Look! Boot-prints! They are alone and they would be Lagodir's boots -- I'd swear to it."

"Well done, the both of you!" said Gaelira. "Which way have they gone?"

"West," said Nephyn, and we began to follow her as she led us. The trail led around the edges of the stone disk, at the feet of the surrounding hills, and it seemed as though they kept behind boulders or among the strange obelisks or other structures that littered the valley -- as if the owner of the prints wished to remain hidden. Very soon we were approaching the eastern edge of the valley. By now it was very nearly noon. I was trying to follow the trail of boot-prints myself, but I never had success. Yet Nephyn always seemed to know which direction to go and I was at a loss as to how she managed it.

"Neph," I asked as we trotted along, "How on earth can you even see these tracks? I'd swear I've not seen a clear print since we started back at the stone!"

"The prints are rarely clear," she answered, "But even that sometimes can reveal important information. For instance: don't you see how these marks are so close together? Why, they are not even as far apart as my own stride, and Lagodir has a much larger frame than I. This indicates to me that he may be wounded in some way, though of course I cannot be certain without some clearer sign. There have been no blood-marks that I have seen so far, though it can be hard to tell when tracking on such rocky ground."

"Ah, do you think then that Guloth was injured by the cave-in as he fled the Rift?" asked Drodie. "That might work in our favour."

"It's possible, and yes it might," said Nephyn worriedly, "But if that is so then I would fear for Lagodir, who we must not forget still inhabits that body. So you see, Padryc? It's all about observation."

"No doubt of that," I said, "But observation of what? All I see are a few dimples in the dirt --"

"Hold!" It was Minasse, who seized me by the shoulder and brought us all to a halt. Instinctively, I began to scan the area in front of me. There, suddenly revealed to us as it came into sight from behind a broken pillar, was a body lying on the ground; a cruel-looking sword was thrust into it. Gaelira dragged us all behind the shadow of a large obelisk and held us there.

"What a gruesome sight!" I said, but I had learned enough to keep my voice as quiet as possible. "You don't suppose that's one of Iorelen's --"

"No," said Gaelira. "I saw it clearly: it is the body of the Lossoth-witch."

"Ha-ha!" laughed Drodie at full voice. "Got what was coming to her, didn't she?" There was a sharp clang as Nephyn's hand slapped him across the head, though his helm largely absorbed the blow.

"Don't be an idiot!" she hissed at him. "Didn't you recognize the sword? You ought have, considering it was used to knock you senseless not two days past: it is the sword of Guloth!"

"Yes. He may be watching us from somewhere among the stones even now, perhaps," said Minasse grimly as he carefully looked this way and that. Drodie's eyes became very wide as the threat slowly dawned on him, and he began to search the ruins of his own account.

"But... why would Guloth kill his own servant?" I mused, still quietly and very aware of the danger. "That doesn't make sense to me."

"Nor me," answered Gaelira, "Still, we must use all caution: that is most certainly Guloth's blade and the Enemy's servants have no compunction about sacrificing their allies to further their own ends, as we ourselves have seen before now. It may be a trap."

"Or it may be a diversion," I said. "Suppose it is a ruse only meant to delay us? Let me try to get closer and see what there is to see -- I promise I will be careful."

I was granted permission to try, and so I did. I won't deny I was frightened throughout the whole ordeal, but something deep inside me seemed to think this was no trick. Once I reached the body I satisfied myself that it was the Lossoth-witch and that she was indeed deceased, then I took a chance and showed myself openly. I looked around. Nothing happened. I waved my arms at my companions, signaling them to join me, which they did in short order.

"Looks like there's just what our eyes have seen, so far as it goes," I said as the others jogged up. "It's definitely the hag, though, and no doubt about the sword -- don't reckon I'd ever mistake that piece of ironmongery for anything else, ever."

"Yet now we find ourselves with another mystery to solve," said Gaelira, her hand upon her chin. "Guloth clearly escaped the cataclysm within the Rift and we know he came this way, but what are we to make of this sign?"

"Judging from the prints, I would say that Guloth slew the Woman," said Nephyn as she continued her study of the ground. "At least, I can't detect any other prints in this immediate area. Of course, the sword alone could have told us as much, I suppose. But what does it mean?" I looked at the weapon with disgust. It had been thrust into the upper torso near where the shoulder meets the neck and left there, stabbing upward, like an omen of death. The huntress's question hung in the air for a moment.

"Are there any other wounds?" asked Gaelira suddenly. We all looked. There were a several, and they were all the deep, thrusting punctures of sword-wounds. The serrations on the blade had rent the flesh cruelly, and the ground was dark with the Woman's blood; the left arm had been completely severed. Nephyn spent many minutes examining the blood stains.

"I do not think this killing happened long ago," she said slowly. "Maybe... maybe, twelve hours? Quite possibly less."

"If your guess is correct then it could have occurred around the time we fled from the Rift," said Minasse.

"Can you see where Guloth's tracks lead from here?" asked Gaelira. "Are they still visible?"

"Yes," said Nephyn and pointed. "You can see where he left a short trail of prints in the gravel just there as they climb up into the hills leading south of here."

"Then let us follow them!" said Drodie as he clapped his hands. "The foe flees before us and we five are on the hunt! Just let me at him -- I'll teach that Guloth to pop me in the head! And may-be he'll be more polite now that he's without his sword, too!"

The Outriders sprang into action. We raced up the hill in pursuit of the trail, our hearts hot within us. Thinking back on it now, this may have been a rather foolish thing to do since we still had no idea how we would defeat Guloth and save Lagodir even if we did manage to overtake him, but I suppose we were all so intent on finding our friend that none of us were contemplating this at the moment. But whether or no, our fervour began to cool rather quickly thanks to the terrain.

As soon as we cleared the first ridge, we descended into a ravine on the other side. Then it was another hard climb to the top of another ridge, and another plunge down the other side. Before long we were all puffing and blowing as the day wore on, yet we were not covering much actual ground. Nephyn was continually stooped over in search of the trail, and sometimes it would take her a long while before she felt sure enough of its direction to go on. In this way, the first full day of our pursuit came to an end. Gaelira and Minasse did not wish to halt, but there was no way the mortal folk could continue without a rest, and in any case we could not be sure to keep on track in the dark, especially in such a rocky and rugged country. We took what little food and sleep we could and rose at the first light of dawn before setting off again.

Sunday, 3rd of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Near the Dwarf-colony of Gabilshathur, Somewhere in the Land of Angmar

"My feet are in desperate need of a hot bath," I groused as I rubbed them gingerly. The harsh landscape of Angmar was no place to be walking unshod -- even for a hobbit -- and I was beginning to feel it after so many days of marching across its unforgiving surface. The sunrise had bathed the heavens with bright colours, but in that place the light seemed likely to betray us to unfriendly eyes while the orange sky only reminded me of fires and burnings. Drodie paused a moment to watch me while Gaelira and Minasse had already set off in pursuit of Nephyn's lead. Today was our second day of following Guloth's trail, but I would have never thought... Well, I will simply tell the tale as it happened and let you make up your own minds about it.

"If I had a second pair of boots I'd give them to you," he said to me with a grin, "But I doubt you would find Dwarf-boots any more comfortable than your current condition. Come! You must forget such things for now if we are going to catch up to the others -- they are already well ahead of us." I groaned my obeisance.

Once we had reassembled, I saw Nephyn on her hands and knees as she examined the ground. The two Elves were a little off to one side, whispering to each other in their own tongue. I stood there, a little impatiently, waiting for someone to explain what was going on. We had spent the night near the bottom of one of the ravines which pocked this part of Angmar, and I was not looking forward at starting the day by clambering up another ridge, but it looked as if that was in the cards for the moment. I peered distrustfully at the sky for a bit, then threw up my hands in exasperation, for I had heard a very faint rumble of thunder in the distance.

"What, more rain?!" I complained. "Is there never a day without darkness, gales, or tempests in this accursed land?"

"Yes. Today," said Minasse curtly. "What you heard is too far off to be of any concern to us, at least for the present, and in any case it came from the south while the wind is currently in the west. You should enjoy the day as it is, Master Halfling, instead of worrying about what it might or might not eventually become."

I huffed my displeasure at being preached to, and the fact I knew the Elf was right only made me grumpier. I fished an apple out of my pack and decided it would be better if things were going into my mouth rather than out of them at that particular moment. A little while later, Nephyn stood to address the rest of us.

"I apologize for this delay," she said, her brow knitted in frustration, "But there are signs here that required very careful examination. We followed Guloth's trail down into this ravine last night, but when I sought the trail again this morning I noticed something I had missed before in the dark. Unless my skill has left my entirely, I must conclude that Guloth fell into this ravine, and it looks to me as if he lay here, as though he were injured."

"Are you sure?" asked Minasse. His tone made it plain he thought Nephyn capable of very little as a tracker, but true to form the huntress ignored him and let her intelligence speak for itself.

"I am," she replied, and she pointed to an area on the ground. "It's as plain as can be that a largish body, roughly the same size and shape as Lagodir, lay here and that he struck this spot with some force."

"How do you know he fell?" I asked, intrigued by her perceptiveness.

"Because of the depth of the indenture in the earth, obviously," Minasse interjected before Nephyn could respond. This time she shot him a disapproving look, but the Elf paid her no heed.

"There is that," she said, "But also the trail itself: I feel quite certain he lost his footing somewhere along the way down and stumbled to this spot -- he may have even rolled part of the way. Unfortunately, I can't say how long ago or for how long he remained here."

"And where does the trail lead now?" asked Gaelira, clearly eager to keep moving.

"Not up the next ridge," she said, much to my relief. "He continued west, along the bottom of this ravine."

"Then let us follow him!" said Drodie, and we did.

Our trek lasted a few more hours before we came to our next serious halt. The ridges on either side of us obscured our view of the surrounding land, but eventually it became clear we were headed directly toward Barad Gularan. Gaelira and Minasse both warned us to use caution, but the warnings were hardly needed: even in the light of midday the turrets of that evil tower sent shivers down my spine. We moved on taking great care to keep ourselves out of the view of its windows and cruel spires. I found myself glancing up at that place repeatedly, as if it was going to suddenly reach out and strike me, but despite my fears everything seemed quiet -- almost brooding -- on that rocky height.

We were passing quite near to one of the bridges leading up to the tower itself when Nephyn showed us her palm.

"Stay here!" she said, "Do not follow me for a moment."

She crept forward while the rest of us waited in the shelter of a boulder-pile. My ears strained for any sign of Nephyn's voice in distress, but long before I started to get truly scared she came crouching back to us with her report.

"The footprints lead up to the bridge that spans the gorge into Barad Gularan," she said.

"Ah, then our search is ended," said Minasse. "But we cannot hope to assault that tower."

"No, no, you don't understand," Nephyn said, obviously agitated at the interruption. "The trail leads up to the bridge, but it does not cross it; Guloth -- or Lagodir, I don't know -- did not enter the tower. The tracks lead back this way: back south."

"What?" asked Gaelira. "He walked right up to the bridge then simply left? What can that mean? Was he turned away?"

"I'm not sure," said Nephyn. "But there is a large collection of other prints on the ground this side of the bridge as well. Some are clearly iron-shod orc-feet. Some look like goblin-feet. Others I couldn't say what they are, but it was almost as if Guloth was challenged at the bridge and not allowed to pass."

"Then this is a complex riddle indeed," said Gaelira with a frown. "Was there anything else?"

"Just this: I saw the prints of whomever faced Guloth in the gathering, but..."

"Yes?" asked Minasse sharply.

"They were... the prints were small. And unshod." Like machines, every head swiveled to look at me. My mouth fell open.

"What?!" I gasped. "A hobbit in Angmar? In there?! Neph, you must be mistaken!"

"Well, we don't know that they were hobbit's feet," she said, "But I have no doubt they were smaller than a full-grown Man or even a Dwarf. And I'm positive it was no goblin. A child, maybe? Or some prisoner?"

"That seems more likely than anything else I can think of," said Gaelira, "Though it is still very confusing and troubling. Who was this person and how did they come there? And why would Guloth wish to see this prisoner? If I can send word to Mallacai perhaps the Seekers of the Seven Stars could do something, but against the might of Barad Gularan even their hopes would be small. It seems that fortress hides many secrets, but there is no time for us to fathom them now. You say the trail leads southwards again?"

"It does."

"Yet Carn Dum lies to the north and west of here," said Gaelira, almost to herself. "This thread ties itself in ever more convoluted knots, but lead on."

"I will show you the way," said Nephyn.

We followed her. The day wore on as the wicked spires of Barad Gularan receded into the distance, and I think we all breathed a little easier as they did so, but that was not to last for we began to climb upward again and the exertion was all I could stand. We were well above the plains of Nan Gurth (the valley which houses Barad Gularan) once night fell, and I wasted no time in going to sleep.

Monday, 4th of Astron, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Land of Angmar

Today dawned much the same as yesterday. I was probably the most glad to be moving on since hobbits do not, as a general rule, like heights very much at all. It was another hour or two of dull work before we finally emerged at the top of that high ridge. We looked back on the ashen valley of Nan Gurth with Barad Gularan rising out of its centre. I waved goodbye to it in mocking fashion.

"Let's hope we never have to look into that valley ever again!" I said. "So the trail continues southward, Neph?"

"It does," she said as she peered at the ground. "South and east. Follow me."

"Gladly!" I said. "My heart already feels lighter with that accursed tower well behind us. Lead on!"

For all my newfound enthusiasm, the going began harder as the trail faded amidst the rocky earth. Nephyn was forced more than once to double-back and recheck her steps. Several times she admitted a need to guess at the trail's direction and she did not always guess correctly, but despite all of this she kept her morale high.

"Even though our progress is slower I think we are gaining on him," she said to me as she continued her work. "These strides are no longer even, Padryc; they have become halting and shorter -- something is slowing our adversary down."

We pressed on. There on the plateau it became obvious that we had left the blasted lands of Himbar behind us as the skeletons of dead trees began to crop up all around, but we scarcely noticed because we were all so intent on finding and keeping the trail. All at once, Nephyn signaled that we should stop. She pointed ahead, and there I saw the stump of a withered tree at the base of which was the figure of a Woman, seated and leaning up against it as if resting. We all crept slowly forward, but I thought I knew already who it was we had found.

"So it is," I heard Drodie say grimly as we drew near enough to see clearly. "Wenhair. Another of our foes has met their end."

"But at whose hand?" asked Minasse. I followed his gaze and saw the source of the Lossoth-woman's demise: it was the hilt-shard of Lagodir's shattered broadsword. It was thrust through her breast all the way up to the cross-guard and into the tree itself, pinning her in place. Her garments were wet with blood.

"Well, Lagodir's obviously!" said Drodie. "Why would Guloth do such a thing to his most devoted followers?"

"Why indeed?" pondered Gaelira. "And yet we could ask the same question about Barad Gularan: why would Lagodir willingly go there, of all places, be seen by the guards and yet not be taken captive? I fear this mystery is only growing more complicated."

"This, at least, is clear to me," said Nephyn as she examined Wenhair's clothes. "That the poor Woman has only been recently dispatched. In fact, she might --"

Suddenly, Wenhair's eyes flew open! I cried in fear and hid behind Nephyn. The Lossoth-woman's mouth worked, struggling to make words with sound. She was clearly in immense pain and, in spite of her betrayal of us in the dungeons of Sarnur, I felt an overwhelming sense of pity.

"My master!" she managed to say, "He has gone mad!" A thick stream of blood pooled at the corner of her mouth and began to run down her chin and onto her neck. Her whole body began to tremble as her voice gurgled on her own gore. "Do not..."

"Be still, Wenhair," Gaelira said to her softly. "We mean you no harm."

"Do not..." Wenhair continued, "Do not... let him..."

And then she was gone. We paused a moment out of respect for the dead, but we knew we could not linger there. We looked around, but Guloth was not present though we did find his boot-prints again, still heading southeast.

"This is the second body in as many days we have been forced to leave thus," said Nephyn as she looked on Wenhair's corpse. "And I do not like it. Could we not at least bury her?"

"We have neither the tools nor the time," said Minasse, who was already scouting the trail ahead. "Besides, the ground is all rock here -- there would be no suitable earth for an internment." Once again I felt a sting of dislike for the Elf even though I knew what he said was true. Guloth -- or Lagodir -- seemed to be hindered by something, but he was still ahead of us somewhere and we knew nothing about his condition. What if our friend lay dying not far from where we currently stood? What if Guloth tried to destroy Lagodir's body out of spite? What if Lagodir let him? The possibilities were too horrible to think about, and time was indeed of the essence.

"Perhaps we might build a cairn?" Nephyn asked, but even I could see there was no hope for that idea: all about us were rocks, certainly, but it would have taken far heavier tools than a spade to turn then into anything suitable for such a task.

"Not unless you plan on cutting the stones out of the hills with your teeth," said Drodie. "Face it, lass, there truly is nothing we can do here."

"Yes, you're right," she agreed, then she returned to her task of leading our pursuit and we followed her intently.

This continued for another hour or more. The trail became so obvious that even I was able to see it: every so often our target could be seen to have stumbled or fallen, and the tracks started to show the feet dragging. Shortly afterward Nephyn declared he was crawling. We quickened our pace: it would not be long now.

The Sun was just beginning to pass the fourth hour from noon when we came upon a prostrate body facedown in the earth, the arms out above the head. The tracks led right to the soles of two large Gondorian boots. The black robes were rent and tattered.

We had found Lagodir.

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 53

The Fall of Thaurlach

Highday, 1st of Astron, Year 1418 Shire-reckoning
Iorelen's Camp, Somewhere in the Land of Angmar

Thaurlach the Balrog

I awoke to a pounding headache. At first I thought there was another monstrous thunder-battle on its way, but the skies overhead were calm (although they remained overcast). Then I realized I hadn't eaten a thing since breakfast yesterday: we had encountered Minasse after leaving Gath Forthnir, then we traipsed all over the mountain-sides to reach the valley of Nurz Ghashu, and finally we had encountered Guloth, driven him off, and saw the arrival of a small army of reinforcements out of the south. In all the excitement I must have lost my appetite, but now my stomach was objecting loudly to my neglect. I fished through my pack, shoved the first morsel of food I found into my mouth, and promptly choked.

"What's the matter?" asked Drodie as he passed nearby.

"Cram," I wheezed, while still trying to cough it out of my throat. I seized my water-skin and took a long draught.

"Ah yes, it's not a good idea to eat that stuff so quickly," he said. "Gets stuck in your craw, it does, unless you give it a proper chewing. You're welcome to keep trying it if you want to, but there are eggs, potatoes, and bacon being fried and served up just yonder, if you'd prefer that to cram."

"What?!" I cried. "Where? Curse the foul winds of this land -- how could I not smell it?"

Drodie pointed the way and in moments I was hunched over a merry campfire with the glorious smells of a solid breakfast hitting me full in the face. A short-bearded Dwarf named Galfi was busy over the fire, but already heaping piles of delicious food were being shoveled onto tin plates or jammed into mugs and passed around. I was quite content when I finally got my share, and settled in to listen to the rising debate among those present.

It was not happy listening. Most of the talk centred around provisioning and organizing our coming sortie into the Rift, which still lay like a slumbering beast in the valley below us. There were many questions asked about Guloth and what sort of creature he was and, while we of Elladan's Outriders did our best to answer, there remained a good number of unanswerable queries. The Balrog, too, was much discussed, and from all the talk I gathered a good bit of history in which you, Dear Reader, might be interested.

What is now known as the Rift was once a city of some sort -- Elven, most seem to think, though the Dwarves present insisted it was originally built by their distant kin -- but the city's name has been lost to the mists of Time. It dated back to the Elder Days, but like much of Angmar it became buried under fire and ash borne on a great wind during the breaking of Thangorodrim and the destruction of Beleriand following the War of Wrath. The good people who once lived there were either overcome and slain or fled east and south in fear, and so the city became deserted.

But it did not remain so. Out of the ruin of Morgoth's dark kingdom fled those valaraukar (the Balrogs) which were not slain by the Host of the Valar, and they hid themselves in the deepest pits they could find. One of these, Thaurlach by name, apparently burrowed into this ancient city, and there it stayed for many, many centuries. But then it began to stir as Sauron, servant of the Black Enemy, re-emerged in the World. When the Elves became aware of this, they sought the aid of something called the Istari -- as best I could make out, this was some sort of council comprised of Messengers from the Uttermost West, I think. Anyway, the Istari, with the help of the Elves, managed to subdue Thaurlach and chain him within the burning halls under the earth, there to await his judgment at the end of days. This Thaurlach was the demon Guloth meant to spring free, and his success would almost certainly mean doom for all the North of Middle-earth.

"The Valar protect us if we should have to engage Thaurlach directly," said Gaelira with a shudder. "The very thought makes my blood run cold."

"But if we can intercept this Guloth, slay him before he reaches the monster," said a tall Man with strange clothing and a long, full beard (whose name I sadly can't recall), "We should have no need to do so."

"But we have been told that Guloth occupies the body of a valiant Man of Gondor," chimed in Iorelen from where had been quietly sitting. "What is to be done, should we overtake him? Shall we end the life of an innocent?"

"We cannot!" cried Nephyn. "Lagodir, our companion, lives still, and it would be unjust to murder him along with his tormentor, even in so dire a situation. There must be some other way."

"I have dispatched Malkan to Rivendell with a message beseeching Lord Elrond for his counsel on this matter," said Gaelira, "But of course it will be some days ere he returns to us, and we cannot afford to wait."

"A difficult choice lies before us, then," said another Elf named Dmorassan. "Perhaps it would be possible to capture Guloth and decide then what is to be done with him?"

"I foresee that is a very dangerous course to take, but it may be the best we can hope to do," said Minasse, "For none here, yea, perhaps none in all Middle-earth save Elrond himself, seems to know how we might save the Man."

"But we do know this," interjected a young, charismatic black-haired captain. "Every moment we spend in vacillation here increases the odds that Guloth will succeed in unleashing the demon. We must delay no longer -- let those who are venturing into the Rift make ready, for the morning is passing us swiftly by."

From that time the preparations did not take long. We Outriders kept together, but all told there were more than a score of us who dared to embark on our mission. I held Nephyn's hand unashamedly and I'm sure she felt it trembling, for she squeezed my fist several times as we walked. The lot of us descended back into the valley and marched down into the enormous rent which pierced the huge stone disk to its centre. We had entered the Rift.

I will not darken the good light of this world by telling you everything which transpired that day beneath the earth. For one thing, to do so would require several reams of paper, a small mountain of inkwells, and probably a year to write it all down in detail. But, to be perfectly honest, if I had ten years and nothing to do but write this story I still wouldn't recount everything I saw there, for it was far too horrible.

We encountered Orcs and goblins, trolls and Angmarim in those pits (I was told they had been sent there to mine obsidian and iron by Moridirth some time ago), but we also found strange, terrible creatures in the depths for which we had no name. Some fled before us while others gave us battle, but as the hours wore on we progressed deeper and deeper into the Rift. I saw whole buildings down there: round arenas of stone, long many-pillared halls, and what must have been several miles of tunnels. There were freezing cold shafts and lakes of burning hot magma, so that our footing was often treacherous. Yet, through it all, we somehow kept going.

After what felt like days our progress was halted by a massive door of stone. It was intricately carved with all manner of runes and other graven images, but it was so large we despaired of ever finding a way to open it. Still, we had not encountered Guloth in all that time, so we knew there must be a way in. After careful examination, we discovered the levers which opened the seals and unlatched the locks, and the door slowly swung open. What we saw then nearly stopped my heart.

It was Thaurlach, the Balrog, and he roared in his anger as we revealed ourselves. At first I thought he was going to hurl himself at us and crush us into pebbles, but then I saw he was restrained -- chained by the wrists in the midst of a large pool. I remembered then what I was told earlier: that Thaurlach had been imprisoned within Nurz Ghashu for many long years, so there was no reason to think he would suddenly break free at this exact moment. I breathed a little easier, but I was still mesmerized by the awesome terror which raged just a few dozen yards in front of me.

"It seems Fate smiles on us after all," said Iorelen as she eyed the Balrog with distaste. "Perhaps we succeeded in reaching this place before Guloth was able to --"

"Look!" cried Nephyn and pointed. I followed her gaze and gasped. There, at the far end of the chamber, stood a sinister figure robed in black.

"I see thou hast brought more friends, my little footpads," came Guloth's voice, echoing off the hard stone in our ears. "A shame it is, that thou shouldst deceive so many innocents to join thee on thy fool's errand, for there is no hope any of thy number shall ever leave this place alive. Yet I thank thee: thy companions must be brave and hearty indeed to have reached this place, and all the more now shall my Lord reward me for extinguishing such a large band of brave souls at once. This game is ended: behold the power of Chaos!"

With that, Guloth raised his hand (his left hand, I was sure to note), and there was a blinding flash, as of lightning. I heard a sharp crack, then all the earth around us seemed to tremble in fury.

"Ai!" cried Iorelen and she pointed toward the ceiling. "Guloth has weakened Thaurlach's chains and he is breaking free! We must do something before --"

But it was too late: Guloth had fled out some portal in the back of the chamber as Thaurlach quickly overpowered his restraints and the battle was joined. I couldn't possibly tell you, Dear Reader, all that transpired in that conflict. It was like being in the very centre of a raging war, with the thunder of a thousand horses running all around. There were shoutings, cries for help, battle-commands, and shrieks of terror everywhere. I did my best to stay out of the way (and out of harm's way) while aiding those I could reach who needed me. I saw the young black-haired captain seized and his body shattered in the Balrog's fist. I saw a fully armoured Dwarf -- his name was Fargrimm, I think -- knocked unconscious then drowned ignominiously in the shallow pool. At one point, just a dozen feet or so from me, I saw a handsome Ranger smashed to pieces by Thaurlach's massive steel chains which he began using as a weapon. Yet, during all the mayhem, we were hailing blows onto the demon as well. For what felt like ages this seemed to have no impact, but eventually it became clear the monster was suffering injury. Finally, just as I was beginning to feel I could continue no longer, Iorelen cried aloud and hurled her bright spear; it pierced deep into the chest of the Balrog. Thaurlach screamed in his agony, but he did not fall -- instead he began to topple the pillars throughout the chamber!

"Fly! Fly!" cried Iorelen, and a great fear was in her shining eyes. "Fly! The fiend will bury us all! Run for your lives!"

We fled. I don't think I've ever run faster in my life. I was in such a panic that I don't even remember checking to see who managed to escape and who did not -- it was everyone for themselves. The earth overhead gave a mighty groan, then the cave-in began. Mountains of dirt and stone rained down from above, but for the moment it was all behind us. A massive cloud of dust swooped up and enveloped us all, causing my eyes and lungs to burn with pain, but I kept running. The thunderous booms of the collapsing cavern deafened me, and I held my ears as I ran. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the cave-in stopped.

We all dropped to the ground to catch our breath, but the air was thick with debris and we were obliged to place cloths over our mouths and noses. Looking around, I saw we five Outriders were all accounted for, but I could immediately tell there were a large number of others missing and, as soon as we were able to move again, we made our way back down the tunnels to search for them.

The cause was hopeless, for the falling stone had completely sealed off the passageway. We tried moving some rubble and we listened for a long while, hoping beyond hope to hear any cries for help, but all was deathly quiet there beneath the earth. At last, we were forced to leave the Rift; we retraced our steps to the outside world and repaired to our campsite. Those who had remained behind cheered at our return and marvelled at our tale, but despite our success there was no revelry that night; less than half of our original number had survived.

In addition to those I saw slain by the Balrog in the pit, so many others were trapped and buried alive in that valley. I had made no special effort to memorize their names -- you have to remember I had only just met them the evening before -- but I write now in their memory, for they gave their lives that others might live in peace. Dmorassan the Elf did not return, nor did the strange Man with the long beard whose name I could never recall. Lost too were Freoi the clear-voiced Dwarf, Eryndil the keen-eyed Elf, Erados, valiant Man, and Jexeth, whose hands were ever upon her happy lute. I am told that the names of those who participated and fell during the raid on Nurz Ghashu were later assembled and sent to the lore-masters of Rivendell for inclusion in their Annals, which is a very great honour indeed.

We five Outriders, thankfully, suffered only very minor injuries during the sortie, and we huddled together around Nephyn's campfire to ward off the cold winds which suddenly began blowing out of the east. The skies were dark and drear, and you can imagine my surprise when I was told it was only the very early morning of the following day! It felt as if we had spent weeks down there when in truth it was only several hours. I suppose the header for this entry really ought to read Sterday, 2nd of Astron, but I'm too tired to bother changing it now.

Anyway, as we sat there silently together, Iorelen approached with her arm in a sling. Even the masterful Elf-warden had not escaped the battle unscathed, yet her attention was entirely on us.

"It would seem Mallacai's foresight did not fail him," she said as she eyed us all intently. "Even if Thaurlach somehow managed to survive, he is buried deep and will not likely trouble the world again anytime soon."

"Unfortunately, many proud warriors lie buried there with him," said Gaelira. "So much misery has been wrought at the hands of this Company! I repent now of ever attempting such a foolhardy mission: everything has gone awry."

"Say not so," said Minasse in his usual brusque manner. "We all knew the risks we were taking, and much must be risked in war. But also there are still questions that need answering: what has become of Guloth?"

"And Lagodir with him," I chimed in. "You... you don't suppose he's still down there...?"

"I think not," said Iorelen. "Guloth made to exit the caverns well before we did, yet many of us still survived the Rift's collapse. I suspect your quarry remains abroad somewhere. Do you mean to follow him?"

"We do," said Nephyn, her cheeks flushing red. "Quite aside from the fact we still have Lagodir to rescue (somehow), Guloth now has the lives of your compatriots to answer for, and we would see it done."

"Perhaps," Gaelira cut in. "Yet we must also consider the fact we do not know what exactly we would do if we managed to discover Guloth and if we somehow managed to overpower him. On this I must have time to think. But what of yourself and your fellows, Iorelen?"

"We must rest and recover ourselves at the very least," the Elf answered. "But we will also need to mount a rescue operation -- if there is any chance that someone remains alive and buried down there, then we will do all we can to save them, though I have slim hopes it will prove so. I would also check on Thaurlach, if I can, to see whether that threat has truly been eliminated. In sum, I believe we will be here for some time yet."

"You have my condolences," said Drodie, daring to jest a little. "This isn't where I'd prefer to spend the first days of Spring."

"Nor I," Iorelen said with a smile, "But the Seekers of the Seven Stars will always do what must be done. In the meantime, I would urge you five to continue your search for the Steward of Angmar. It is clear your fates are tied together with his and with that of your Gondorian friend as well, and I would not hinder it. Do not worry about us: we will be quite capable of defending ourselves if any of Angmar's minions come nosing about."

"You have our thanks," said Gaelira as she bowed her head. "You and your companions are the bravest and most valiant warriors I have had the honour to fight beside in many long years."

"The feeling is mutual, my friends," Iorelen replied. "A great evil has finally been removed from this Middle-earth and the might of the Enemy is considerably lessened thanks, in no small part, to your courage. Now if you will please excuse me, there is much to which I must attend, as you can imagine."

After bidding Iorelen good night, we briefly turned to our own counsel, but nothing really came of the discussions. Most of us were too tired to be of use and none of us had the slightest idea of what to do next in any case. In the end, we simply decided to sleep on it and let the dawn of a new day chart our course.

As I lay there dozing, I thought about everything I had been through in the last three months. I wondered if anyone back in the Shire would ever believe one tenth of everything I've recorded in this journal, but by now I knew my writings would likely never be read by Shire-folk, assuming any of them ever came to know about it. It was now clear to me that I was caught up in an age-long struggle -- a battle which has its roots in the Elder Days of the World and was still going on. I wondered whether such tales ever really have an end...

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a familiar sound: Sching. Sching. I bolted upright, expecting to find Lagodir, like so many times before, seated by the campfire on watch, thoughtfully running a whetstone down the length of his sword. Instead, I saw the grizzled face of Galfi meticulously sharpening his filleting knives. The Dwarf glowered at me sulkily and went back about his business.

I slowly lay down again and stared at the empty sky overhead. Would we ever see Lagodir again?

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 52.2

Into the Rift

Mersday, 30th of Rethe, Year 1418 Shire-reckoning
Iorelen's Camp, Somewhere in the Land of Angmar

Guloth, the Steward of Angmar

We marched side-by-side down into the valley of Nurz Ghashu. Guloth, meanwhile, descended from his perch and planted himself directly in our path. The others had already drawn their weapons, so I unlimbered my shield then unsheathed my dagger. All around us the thundering gale of a rising storm raged while the wind became swift and strong. Our Company began to spread out slowly in an effort to surround the Steward of Angmar and give ourselves an advantage, but I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Minasse, our newly encountered High Elf ally.

"Stay close to me, little one," he said. I obeyed, but I kept my weapons at the ready. There was another blinding flash of lightning and the thunder boomed around us for miles, echoing fearfully off the mountain-walls. Even though the Sun had not yet set, the boiling clouds made it so dark it could have been night, but still the rain did not come.

"Well, well, if it isn't my friends," the apparition said in a mocking tone. There was no trace of Lagodir's soft but strong voice in the speech of Guloth, and his eyes remained dead and sightless. It was the Gondorian's face I saw, but his once sharp and handsome features now looked harsh, angular, and cruel. He wore a spiked circlet upon his brow -- the same we saw worn by Mordirith before he fell -- and his flowing black robes whipped about in the wind. In his left hand he held a naked and bitter sword of perverse design, and in his right, close to his body, he carried a large black shield.

"Didst thou think to thwart me?" Guloth asked. It seemed as if his voice reverberated in my very ears. "Already my minions infest the Rift, and soon the Terror which dwells within shall be unleashed. Once again thou art too late."

"You cannot hope to control the demon," shouted Gaelira. "It's power exceeds your own."

"I have no need to control it," he answered. "It shall bring untold destruction upon the enemies of my Master -- the likes of which that fool Mordirith was too weak or timid to exploit. But I! I will be the bringer of death to those who oppose Sauron, and ever higher in the Dark Lord's favour shall I rise!"

"Yet here you are outside the Rift and not within it," said Minasse from next to me. "Perhaps our arrival was not as untimely as you say." Guloth turned his attention to the High Elf.

"And who is this?" he asked with a sneer. "A new friend so soon, to replace the one I slew?"

"Curse you, wretch!" Nephyn screamed back. "Where is Lagodir? What have you done with him?!"

"Weep for me, daughter of mongrel-rats!" Guloth scoffed. "Nothing shall I tell thee, the more that thou mind might be tormented in thy doubt. Come! Who amongst thy rabble can hope to keep me from my purpose?"

"What, alone against the five of us?" asked Gaelira, still having to shout over the roiling storm. "Where are your minions? Or do they desert you, seeing their doom approach?" Guloth laughed again.

"The Lossoth-witch and her offspring are about my business elsewhere," he said. "They have no fear of thee, of that thou mayest be certain. But enough talk! I need no servants to destroy the lot of thee!"

And with that he launched himself at us, his sword flashing even as the lightning rent the heavens overhead. Gaelira, Drodie, and Nephyn all fought valiantly, but Guloth was a terrible and deadly foe. I remained beside Minasse, unable to help them in any meaningful way except to shout encouragement now and then, but even that was swallowed up by the tempest which swirled about us. The High Elf had produced his rune-stones and was studying them intently, oblivious to the fighting. I saw Drodie stagger backward and fall senseless under the crushing weight of Guloth's blows, then Gaelira cried out and clutched at her arm. Nephyn shouted her attack and their two blades gleamed in the night. Sparks flew in the fury of battle. There was a tremendous clang, and I saw the Sword of Ringdor fly out of Nephyn's grip. It sailed through the air until it fell clattering onto the outer edge of the great disk, two dozen yards away. Then Guloth placed his weapon against her thigh and raked it. The huntress screamed and fell to the ground as blood poured from her wound. I gasped in horror. The Steward of Angmar's sword-tip was inches from her breast.

"Can't you help them?!" I pleaded to Minasse. Finally, he looked up at me.

"No," he said. "But you can!" He seized me by the shoulders and shoved me into the fight!

I was face-to-face with Guloth. His merciless white eyes beheld me and a chilling smile spread over those thin, ashen lips.

"And so thy friends wouldst sacrifice thee to save themselves, Halfling?" he asked. "What a pity. But wait... Ah, how delectable! Know, little weakling, that the Dark Lord's gift to me long ago was the power to glimpse into the minds of my prisoners and to see therein that which shall bring to them the very greatest suffering. I had thought to slay thy Woman-friend before thee, for 'tis clear that thou dost love her. Yet I perceive now that to end thy life in front of her would be the greater torture. And so: die now, and let despair be thy last living thoughts."

"No!" Nephyn screamed and tried to come to my defence, but her wound was too great: she cried out in pain and fell back to the earth. I looked up into those ruthless, glazed eyes and saw my death approaching as Nephyn wept helplessly. My knees quaked. My arms shook. My heart pounded so that I feared it might burst. I raised my dagger and shield purely out of instinct. Guloth strode quickly toward me and his sword arched wide. Suddenly my dagger flew out of my hand, my whole arm wracked with the shock of the blow. Guloth's sword arched again. This time my shield was rent as if by a thunder-bolt and I dropped it in pain. I sank to my knees, pitifully raising my arms over my head as if it would do any good to ward off the final blow. The skies erupted into a cannonade of wrath and furious lightnings as the Steward of Angmar raised his blade one last time.

But then... nothing happened.

"What is this?" Guloth hissed. I dared to peep up at him. His sword was poised, point downward at me, ready to end my life in an instant, yet it did not move.

"WHAT IS THIS?!?!" He said again, then screamed aloud in his fury. The very sound of it was a torment to the body as well as the mind, and I covered my ears in agony.

"NO!" he cried. "It cannot be!" Then, lowering his sword, he turned and fled. Within seconds, he had vanished down into the great chasm beneath the stone disk and was gone. The thunder rumbled once more, and I breathed again.

I found I was trembling, but whether it was from fear or relief I couldn't tell, for I moved at once to assess the damage done to my comrades. Nephyn's wound was by far the most serious and required immediate attention. Gaelira was able to treat her own arm (which was not too badly injured) while Minasse succeeded in reviving Drodie, who had suffered a nasty pommel-strike to the temple (fortunately, his helm had absorbed the worst of it). Then we determined our current position was too exposed, so we removed ourselves -- with some difficulty -- to the shelter of some nearby rock-formations. Nephyn's leg was lame and, once she had recovered the Sword of Ringdor, she was obliged to use it as a crutch to move herself about. Then everyone was checked and double-checked to ensure none of us had been poisoned or worse. It was some time later before we were able to regroup and take stock of what had just happened.

"Minasse, just what were you thinking?" I finally managed to ask him. "What put it into your head that I could withstand that brute when those three had just failed to do so? Good Heavens!"

"And yet I was right, wasn't I?" came the High Elf's reply. My mouth fell open in disbelief.

"I -- what?" I asked in exasperation. "Did you not see what the rest of us saw just now?"

"Of course I did," he said. "But I also saw what came before: I saw the Story so far as it has been written, and I judged that Lagodir would not allow you to be slain by his hand. And I was right."

"No, wait... what?!" My head was spinning with confusion.

"I think, Padryc," said Gaelira with a grim smile, "That the mysteries surrounding Lagodir's fate begin to reveal themselves to me. You yourself had said: two things cannot occupy the same space at the same time, did you not? I think we know at last what has become of Lagodir. He -- his will, his soul -- is still trapped within his own body, but Guloth has commandeered it. Or most of it. I think what we saw was Lagodir fighting his own battle. It would seem you are quite dear to all of us, my friend."

"Well, thank goodness for that!" I said. "Naught repays a body more than good manners, my boy, as my old dad used to tell me, although I rather doubt this was what he had in mind when he said it. But this means we're going to have to discover some way of separating Guloth from Lagodir, and Heaven help me if I know of how we will ever manage that!"

"Nor I," Gaelira sighed, "But for the moment we have more pressing matters to deal with. Guloth has fled into the Rift of Nurz Ghashu, and I do not know if we can hope to follow him there. Yet I fear we shall have to do so, or his plans may still come to fruition."

"It is for this very reason that I came to this land," said Minasse with a determined face. "I will go down." He quickly buried his nose in his rune tablets again.

"As will I," said Drodie. "I've warned the Enemy before it's no good targeting my head, for 'tis the hardest part of me. Besides, I relish the thought of fighting beneath the earth. At last! I'll show the rest of you what a real battle looks like!"

"I, too, would follow," said Nephyn as she winced in pain. "For my heart burns within me, knowing at last what has become of Lagodir and that there may yet be a chance to save him. But I am wounded and will need at least some time to recover. And I refuse to let you join us, Padryc -- it may be too dangerous for you."

"I agree with the Woman," said Gaelira. "It would be best if you wait up here, out of sight."

"What rot!" I protested. "Has it escaped your attention that I'm the only member of this Company who is not currently injured? Well, apart from your good self --" I said and turned to Minasse. But the Elf was engrossed in whatever he was doing with those stones, and ignored me.

"Oh, bother him, then," I went on. "Actually, I suppose I didn't escape completely unscathed since my beautiful shield is now little more than a pile of scrap metal; at least my dagger is safe. Anyway, I admit I'm scared to death of this place, but Lagodir is down there and he needs our help! He just saved my life, and I intend to help repay the favour."

"Well and bravely spoken," said Gaelira as she fingered her wounded arm. "Unfortunately, all our combined bravery and well-spoken words are not going to avail us in the Rift. What is to be done?"

"The storm is passing," said Minasse suddenly. We all looked up. It was true: the thunder and lightning was hastening eastward, carried away by a sudden wind coming up from the West. We turned to see the clouds being torn and cast aside by the breeze as the setting Sun flared over the edge of the hills, blinding us. I shielded my eyes, then I rubbed them, for I was sure I was seeing things. Was there something -- many things -- moving there, just at the crest of the ridge above us?

"Look!" cried Nephyn. She was so overjoyed that she even managed to stand.

And there came down to us many people of all kinds. They were led by a silver-haired Elf-maid in shining armour, but there were many Men, several Rangers, more Elves tall and fair, and even some Dwarves. Nearly all of them were girt for battle and they were grim and fell to look upon.

"How is this possible?" breathed Gaelira. Then a piercing call came from on high, and out of the gleaming shaft of the setting Sun's radiance there flew a great bird which alighted on a pillar near us.

"Malkan!" I called to the eagle. "How wonderful to see you again!" Malkan bowed his head at me, but said nothing.

"Suilad, mellyn! My name is Iorelen," the silver-haired Elf said as she hailed us. "I bring word from Mallacai: today, the fate of all Eriador hangs in the balance, and so the Seekers of the Seven Stars have gathered our mightiest warriors and sent them hither in defence of the Free Peoples. We are at your service."

"But... but how did you know where -- and when -- to find us?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"The tale of the creature which dwells beneath this seal is known to all the Wise," replied Iorelen. "Mallacai foresaw this day long ago. He arranged for all of our greatest champions, those who were available and willing to face extreme danger, to converge at this spot on this day, that we might finally see a great evil wiped from Middle-earth forever."

Some time was spent on introductions, but we were also lent great care for our wounded. We then decided to establish a proper camp out of the swirling winds of the valley. There was a winding path up one side, and this we climbed until we reached a small ruin which suited well as a campsite. Once everyone was settled in, we began to discuss our situation. Gaelira brought Iorelen up to speed on everything that had befallen us in the land of Angmar, to include our meeting with Mallacai in the Halls of Night, our unsuccessful venture into Carn Dum, the downfall of Mordirith, and even Lagodir's possession and our recent battle with Guloth, the newly minted Steward of Angmar.

"The power commanded by this Guloth is deeply troubling," said Iorelen. "But still less so than that Thing which lies somewhere beneath our feet. We must first deal with the main threat. Then, if circumstances permit it, we will see what can be done about the wraith."

"But he has taken control of our friend," Nephyn said with flushed cheeks. "It would not be just to slay him. Is there no other recourse?"

"Long have I walked the hills and vales of this Middle-earth, yet this is the first time I have ever encountered such a dilemma as what you describe," Iorelen replied. "I fear I have no advice for you on this matter, other than to urge that you dispatch your eagle-friend with all speed to Lord Elrond in Rivendell. As a master of the healing arts, he would be better equipped than any other this side of the Sea to advise you. Yet, over so great a distance, whatever help even he could send you may be small."

"I shall do as you suggest," said Gaelira. "And now tell me of Mallacai. When was it you last saw him? Does he send us any words of counsel?"

"You have seen him much more recently than I," came Iorelen's answer, "Judging from what you told me of yourselves. And no, he sent no words beyond what I have already reported. Are we not enough for you?" she added with a wink.

"You are more than we could have ever hoped for!" I laughed. "It's just that everything seems to be going against us lately, if you take my meaning, aside from your turning up all sudden-like the way you did. But what now? Are we going down into that awful pit tomorrow? What is this Thing we're hoping to find down there?" There was a short silence.

"It is a Balrog of Morgoth," said Minasse. Even his normally haughty voice was quiet and subdued. "A being of a kind which has slain more Elves than any other throughout the Three Ages of this World, save the Dark Lord himself and his Black Master before him." I swallowed hard. Even to my little ears the shadowy tales of these fire-demons was like a horror on the edge of a distant nightmare. I had never heard much about them from any of the Elves who had cavorted with me in the woods of the Green Hill Country, and I had never cared to ask about them when they entered into some story of theirs, for they frightened me.

"Have we any hope of victory?" asked Drodie.

"The hope is slim, but it remains," Iorelen said. "There are some among us who may, if we work together, be able to withstand the creature. I am one. Minasse and Gaelira are two others, and there are a few more among our troop. As is so often the case in life, the outcome is not certain, but we know what we are called to do and we shall attempt it."

At this point there followed a series of arguments about whether or not I should be permitted to travel into the Rift with the others. From what I gathered, the intent was to leave some of us behind to maintain a recovery point since none of us knew what we might encounter down there. But I remained adamant and eventually the others relented. We all prepared to sleep while the Elves stood guard, for we would need all the rest we could get for the day ahead. As Nephyn and I prepared our bedrolls, I noticed she was moving around with much greater ease than I would have expected given the severity of her recent wound, and I told her so.

"Yes, thank you, though it remains quite sore," she said as she prodded her injured leg. "I admit I'm rather surprised about that myself. I don't know what it was Iorelen dressed it with, but I think you should get some of it for your own stores if you can, Padryc." I heartily agreed.

"Neph," I asked as I lay myself down. "Do you think we'll ever see Lagodir -- the real one -- again? I miss him."

"As do I," the huntress replied. "I don't know, but I hold out hope. Seeing what happened to you has filled me with a new resolve, my friend! We know that Lagodir lives still, somewhere."

"Yes," I agreed. "I just wish we knew what to do about it! But first things must come first, I suppose. Good night, Neph."

"Good night." I closed my eyes and listened to the crackling of the nearby fire.

"Pad?" came Nephyn's voice again.

"Yes?"

"Lagodir isn't left-handed, is he?" I opened my eyes and frowned, stumped by such an odd question.

"Erm, no, I'm pretty sure he isn't," I said after noodling it over for a moment. "No, I'm certain -- he always fought right-handed, now I think about it. Why?"

"I was just remembering back to our first battle with Guloth, in Annuminas," she said. "And Guloth isn't left-handed either."

I blinked. I tried to work out what Nephyn's observation might mean, but the added mental exertion was too much after such a stressful day, and I fell asleep without success.

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 52.1

A Race to the Rift

Mersday, 30th of Rethe, Year 1418 Shire-reckoning
The Rift of Nurz Ghashu, Somewhere in the Land of Angmar

The Rift of Nurz Ghashu

I had thought the mood of defeat and depression would be tempered by a night of restful sleep, but it was not to be. Upon waking, I saw long and grim faces among my friends as we tried to plan our next moves in the wake of our disastrous mission from yesterday. Now that Guloth had resurfaced and claimed both the palantir and the mantle of the Steward of Angmar, our position was more dire than ever. As soon as we were all awake we assembled to take counsel among ourselves.

"Maerchiniath and his lieutenants are busy trying to arrange for the evacuation of Gath Forthnir," Gaelira said as she updated us on the latest developments. "His scouts are already spying out the roads southward, for it will be along that way these folk must flee ere Guloth is able to send his newfound strength against them."

"And what of us?" asked Nephyn. "Shall we not flee with them?"

"It seems to me there might be little else we can do," I said, downcast.

"Bah!" huffed Drodie from where he sat casually leaning up against the stone walls of the cavern. "If these people wish to flee then let them. I say we should remain here! If we are so certain that Guloth will attack this place then we know where to find him, and we ought to prepare him a proper welcome, if you ask me."

"Guloth will only send his armies to Gath Forthnir; he himself will not come," said Gaelira. "He seeks -- he apparently has always sought -- control of Carn Dum and all the force of arms that comes with it. Maerchiniath was right: Guloth cannot hope to command those disparate forces all in a day and we must not be idle in the meantime."

"What, then, are you suggesting?" asked Nephyn warily. "You don't mean to say we should try to attack him by re-entering Carn Dum?"

"No. I think we have neither the numbers nor the means to succeed in such a venture, and in any case I do not think Guloth will remain sheltered there. He must solidify his new realm by declaring himself the new ruler of Angmar, and doing so will require him to show himself to many of his would-be servants as proof that their loyalties should now lie with him. In the meantime, we must do what we can to limit the reach of his power. I have thought of a way we might do this, but it may be quite perilous."

"Go on," I said, not really wanting to hear more.

"When we defeated Mordirith, Guloth spoke of leading his armies to crush the Free Peoples of the North and that he would begin by enslaving the demon which lies to the east. While you all slept, I reached deep into my memory and recalled some rumours I heard long ago about how a great battle was once fought in these wastelands -- a battle between several Messengers of the West and a... a terror out of the Elder Days. Unless I miss my guess, I believe Guloth intends to somehow awaken and, if he can manage it, control or at least ally with this being."

"If we were to reach the prison or resting place of this creature first then perhaps we could despoil Guloth's plot," said Drodie, as he slowly becoming more interested in our strategizing.

"Yes, so I hope," Gaelira answered. "I do not think we would wish to encounter or attempt to defeat this thing directly, but it may be we shall find some way to ensure Guloth cannot reach it, and so rob him of one of his most potent weapons during his time of greatest vulnerability. Until he takes full command of Angmar he will remain only one foe with a few devoted, albeit very dangerous, followers. The more damage we can do to him during this time the better hope we have."

"But where is this demon of which the wraith-lord spoke?" I asked quietly. "The east is a bit vague, don't you think? Any ideas on that?"

"That is of no real concern to us," came Gaelira's reply, "For you, and all of us, have already been to the place." Her words hung ominously on the air and I think Drodie, Nephyn, and I all had the same vision form in our minds. I saw a wide valley surrounded by black, sharp-edged mountains, and in the very centre there lay that massive disk of stone with the jagged cleft running deep toward its midpoint. I swallowed hard as a surge of fear covered me like a wave. Gaelira nodded as she studied our faces.

"The Rift of Nurz Ghashu," she said. "It is my hope that we will find a way to seal it without actually going inside, but I can make no promises without seeing the place itself again." No one spoke.

"I do not wish to go back to that place," said Drodie. "But go I will if it means we can upset that wretched Guloth and his wee little plans. No Dwarf appreciates being played for a fool, and this Dwarf has a score to settle on that account."

"I also do not wish to return there," said Nephyn quietly, though her voice was steady and thoughtful. "But our coming to Angmar has brought little more than grief and ruin upon the few good people who still dare to dwell and fight here. I will not dishonour their efforts by abandoning them in this, their most desperate hour. I will follow your lead, Gaelira."

"And I," I chimed in, "Admit to being mortally afraid of that valley, but I, too, will go."

"Then it is settled," said Gaelira with a look on her face that might have been relief. "Let us collect our belongings, ready ourselves, and say farewell to Maerchiniath ere we depart. Be certain to take as much provender and other supplies as you can manage, for it is not assured we shall be able to return here, once and if our new mission is accomplished."

My hands trembled as I worked to gather our foodstuffs in preparation to leave. The thought of that evil valley filled all my mind at first, but gradually other thoughts began to crowd their way in. It was then I realized that Gaelira was examining our medicinal stores, which were (as they always were) in my backpack.

"Gaelira," I asked in a low voice. "If Guloth is going to be looking for this, erm, demon just as we are -- you don't... you don't suppose there's any chance we might run into him there, do you?"

"I think the chance is slim," she said, her eyes on her task. "It is certainly possible I grant you, but I am gambling on the likelihood that Guloth will spend at least some time trying to establish his claim to rule Angmar first, before he sets out on this more private errand. And so much the better, for I really have no idea how to stop him from entering that chasm. I only hope we can discover one when we get there. Or perhaps we might think up a plan while we are on our way."

"That doesn't sound so hopeful," I said. "Still, I haven't any better ideas. Isn't there anyone we could look to for help? What about these folk here?" Gaelira shook her head.

"The Rangers and the others who dwell in Gath Forthnir must look to their own defences first," she replied. "There are many here who are not warriors, and their safety must be the priority. Moreover, we ourselves, who go willingly back into the darkness, will eventually require some safe haven to which we might repair -- whether in victory or in defeat. Now more than ever do I begrudge the absence of Malkan, our eagle-friend, for word of what has transpired here should be sent to both Mallacai and to Lord Elrond with the very greatest speed. I would give a good deal to know what has become of him and why he has been away so long."

"As would I," I admitted. "But I should also like to know about... about Lagodir. Is there any hope for him, Gaelira?" The Elf stopped working a moment and sighed.

"I cannot say," she said. "I have never delved into the arts of necromancy, for obvious reasons, and so I know nothing of the perverted rituals used against our friend. Would that Elrond were here! But he is not, and we have to consider the possibility that Lagodir might be forever lost to us, Padryc. We must be prepared to do whatever is necessary to stop Guloth, if that be the case."

"But... but..." I stammered as tears began to pool in my eyes. "How can that be? Lagodir can't just disappear, can he? I mean, what happened to him? Where is he? The way I see it, two things can't occupy the same space at the same time, if you understand me. It's just not sense." Gaelira looked at me thoughtfully.

"Perhaps there is wisdom in your words, my friend," she said. "At the least, let us remember them and hope! For myself, though, I am curious as to why Guloth held his sword-arm the way he did following Mordirith's defeat. Did you notice?" I thought back to the day before, recalling that terrible scene when Lagodir struck down the Steward of Angmar only to reveal himself as Guloth, returned. It was then that awful, ruthless white glaze had covered Lagodir's eyes and his face became like death. I shuddered internally and forced myself to concentrate on the details Gaelira had pointed out.

"I remember," I said after a brief pause. "Yes, I remember from the moment he had defeated Mordirith, Guloth gripped the hilt-shard of Lagodir's broadsword as though his fist were made of iron and he kept that arm pressed hard against his side. But what do you think it means?"

"I am not certain, so I will say nothing at present," the Elf replied, "But I wonder if Guloth might have made a critical oversight in his eagerness to depose his rival. One day we shall see, perhaps, but in the meantime we have other tasks to which we must set our minds. I would advise you to refill our meager stores of athelas from the quartermaster here before we leave, Padryc."

I did as I was told, and a short time later the four of us were gathered near the entrance of Gath Forthnir. There was no assemblage of Free Folk to see us off this time, for the people were working feverishly to salvage whatever they could from their refuge before abandoning it. But Maerchiniath was there and, though our goodbyes were brief, they were heartfelt.

"May fortune favor you all, my brave warriors," the Ranger-captain said with a sly wink in my direction. "It may be too much to hope for, but I shall ever look to the horizon at the ending of each day, wishing to see you appear there so that we might share a warm hearth together one more time." We all bowed low.

With the difficult aspects of leaving behind us, we departed Gath Forthnir for (what I believe will be) the last time. Although it was still quite early in the day -- roughly nine in the morning, if memory serves -- the sky was dark with threat of rain and the light was dimming instead of growing. The restless winds of Angmar continued their unending assault as they hurled bits of gravel and sand onto our eyes, lips, and skin. I heard a stone shake loose somewhere and topple down the mountainside, the cracks of its descent echoing many times off the bare cliffs. We made our way in silence down the long pathway one last time. Angmar was always a dismal place on the best of days, but today, knowing that we were finally leaving the friendly redoubt of Gath Forthnir and that we were the ones responsible for its loss -- well, let's just say I was even more depressed than usual.

Gaelira led us down to the stagnant pool, at the bottom of which no doubt still lay the rotting corpse of Skullyg. I was reminded of the grave of Areneth, the one-time doorward of Maerchiniath who fell unawares to the goblin's blade a week ago, and begged that we might visit it, however briefly. To this Gaelira consented, and so we skirted the pool on its northern edge, eventually coming to the dying brush and inconspicuous headstone hidden behind the large boulder where we had made the Man's resting place. We all stood there a moment in silence, each busy with our own thoughts. I remembered again how Areneth had welcomed us upon our first arrival at Gath Forthnir, and how cheerful he had been whenever we encountered him afterward. I was stung again by the fact that it was our quest which had betrayed the secret of the refuge to the forces of the Enemy, and now poor Areneth's grave may never be visited by anyone ever again once the Rangers had left the place behind. I sighed deeply. Nephyn sniffled a little, then turned her head to look at the landscape, as if assessing whether it was sufficiently peaceful to hold the Man's remains.

"I certainly hope nothing finds him here and disturbs his rest," I said. "I'd hate to think what might happen if --"

"Hush!" said Nephyn, as she grabbed my shoulder and dragged me behind the nearby boulder. The others quickly joined us.

"What do you see?" asked Drodie as he peeked from behind the rock.

"Look there!" said Gaelira. "A shadowy figure picking its way among the stones."

"But what is it?" I whispered. I craned my neck to try and glimpse what the others had bespied, but I could see nothing due to the rocky hillside.

"I see nothing!" hissed Drodie.

"Quiet!" the Elf admonished us. "It draws nearer. Whatever it is, it goes on two legs. Let us wait a moment -- mayhap the Sun will ride out from behind the clouds to aid us."

We waited. Very soon the intruder was close enough that I could hear its soft footsteps in the gravel, but I didn't dare to try and look. Gaelira was peering intently into the murk, and suddenly I saw her eyes widen.

"That is no servant of Angmar!" she said, nearly at full voice. I felt a wave of relief, then joined the others as we emerged to declare ourselves. What I saw was just about the last thing I could have ever expected to see in the barren wastes of Himbar.

It was an Elf -- a very tall Elf, with golden yellow hair and dressed in a remarkable blue robe studded with shimmering silver threads in an intricate pattern. He seemed to know where we were hiding and regarded us with a certain amused air, as though he were a prized stallion who just happened across four young pups that were entertaining themselves by playing in the mud.

"You there," the newcomer called, apparently not concerned about being overheard. "Tell me: is this place close to Gath Forthnir? I was told it lay north of the valley with the uncouth name of Imlad Balchorth."

"It is," Gaelira answered him. "Gath Forthnir is known to us, but we will not reveal its location unless we know more about you and your purposes. Who are you and what is your business in this land?"

"I am called Minasse, a Noldorin of Harlond," came the reply, "And I have come here because a great battle is brewing, and I wish to play what part in it I might." I cast my eye over the stranger. His attire was rich and exotic, but nowhere could I find any trace of blade or bow -- he appeared to be completely unarmed, as far as I could tell. All the same, he carried himself with a great sense of confidence or importance. In fact, he reminded me at once of Mallacai.

"Mae govannen, mellon Minasse," replied Gaelira with a courtesy. "We are what remains of Elladan's Outriders, and you will find the path ascending to Gath Forthnir just on the far side of this pool. We ourselves are just now departing thence on an urgent errand, and so we must leave you."

"What errand might that be?" Minasse asked us. Gaelira paused a moment, as if considering how much to trust the High Elf.

"We believe an agent of the Enemy means to enlist a powerful ally which lies entombed east of here," she said at last. "Our intent is to reach the site first and perhaps find a way to hinder those designs."

"Ah, so you seek Nurz Ghashu, yes?" Minasse replied with a grin. "Then it seems your purpose and mine intersect, at least for the present. I shall come with you."

I think we were all more than a little surprised by the Elf's sudden self-invitation, but there wasn't much we could do about it. Our plan was to reach the dark valley before sundown and already the day was quickly passing, so we took only a brief pause to introduce ourselves to Minasse before setting out again. Once the spire of Barad Gularan was in view we turned eastward and found the cliffside path we had taken previously. The clouds rumbled with thunder, but the sounds were distant and so the threat of rain was still some ways off. Yet the light continued to dim even as the Sun passed midday, and I feared a terrible storm was going to break upon us from out of the south.

Just as before, the going was slow, dull, and especially treacherous in the deepening gloom. I lost my footing a few times, but eventually the path broadened enough that I felt I could walk it safely. I found that Minasse was walking near me, and I took the opportunity to converse with him, though I was careful to keep my voice down, despite the fact we had seen no sign of enemies all morning. All of Angmar seemed devoid of activity, yet at the same time the roiling skies belied a powerful and gathering force which might explode forth at any moment.

"Minasse," I said as we walked, "You said you came here because a great battle was on its way. I thought our attack on Carn Dum was known only to a very select few. How did you come to hear of it?"

"I know nothing of any such attack," came the answer. "I began my journey from the Harlond weeks ago, for that is no small distance. No, I am a reader of the portents, my little friend, and the portents revealed to me that the time for elimination of a great evil from the World was finally at hand. I merely wished to have my part in such a momentous occasion, as I said before, and so here I am."

"And how did you manage to reach this place?" I continued. "Did you travel all the way alone? The roads are quite dangerous; surely you didn't come all this way unarmed?"

"I did come all this way alone, and I am not unarmed," Minasse replied. He thrust his right hand into a strange woven pouch which hung at his belt. From it, he produced two very unusual tablets and a small, finely wrought chisel. He only allowed me the briefest of glances before quickly stowing them away again, as thought he feared my seeing them might somehow do me harm, but I won't soon forget their appearance. They were elegantly shaped and beautifully carved all over with the most convoluted and complex runes while their surfaces gleamed as if they were made of glass. One was a gorgeous blue-green mixture like a topaz while the other shimmered with all the colours of the rainbow, but its predominant hue was golden.

"You are a rune-keeper, aren't you?" I asked, not bothering to hide my enthusiasm.

"I believe I have heard that name used for those who pursue my profession," said Minasse. "I do not care for the term myself because it does not seem an appropriate description for the nature of my skill, but I will not bother to quibble with you over something so trivial; you may call me that if you wish. Frankly, I am surprised you know aught of such things; I do not recall this being common knowledge among your kind. But then, it has been many, many long years since last I visited the land of the Halflings, so perhaps things there have changed."

"They have not, I'm happy to tell you," I said, admittedly a little pleased with myself for knowing something that this haughty immortal did not. "But I only know the term myself because there was another rune-keeper, an Elf-sire, who travelled with us for some time."

"Oh? Who was this and what became of him?"

"His name was, erm, is Luean," I said. "Unfortunately, he was required to part ways with us on business of his own, and that was some time ago."

"This name is not known to me," Minasse said. "He must have been a rather young studier of the arts. Had you known him long?"

"Not very," I said, "But he was a good friend and always knew how to lighten our moods. He was a fine hand at telling and guessing riddles."

"Those do not strike me as being very practical talents," the High Elf responded shortly. I cocked an eyebrow at him, but I don't think he noticed.

"Perhaps not," I said, trying hard not to show my annoyance, "But he was a good friend to us, whether or no. Besides, he once told me that his talents were not of the practical sort; he said his skills might not be visible to those as didn't know how to see them."

"Ah, then I believe that he was indeed a rune-keeper, for he would be quite right on that account," Minasse said with a smile. "Still, I would dispute the idea that our talents cannot be of a practical nature -- Let me assure you they may be, and very much so. This Luean must have been of a quite inferior order."

"What exactly is it that rune-keepers do?" I asked, deciding to ignore the High Elf's off-handed insults. Ever since Luean had first offered me his vague and cryptic explanation for that same question at the Comb and Wattle Inn (which now felt like years ago, but was in fact less than three months' time), I had been eager to learn more. Minasse laughed in response.

"How shall I endeavor to answer you?" he asked, still chuckling. "I hope this will be enough to quell your curiosity: all of the world is a Story which has already been written, but that Story is also constantly changing. The rune-keeper seeks to understand that story and recognize its patterns so that he can, at need, re-write certain parts of it. Does that help?"

"Not in the least," I said, and I meant it.

"How do you explain to a fish that it lives in water?" Minasse said, and he laughed again. "If you should happen to find yourself with a few centuries of spare time then perhaps I might be able to instruct you more fully. In the meantime, I am afraid you will have to be content with what I have told you. Besides, unless I am much mistaken, it appears we are drawing near to the valley of Nurz Ghashu."

"So it would seem," I said. Looking ahead, I could see the high pass which led up the side of the mountains and then plunged down into the basin wherein lay the ominous stone circle with its enormous rent side. I shivered involuntarily at the thought of returning to that disquieting scene.

"I wish Lagodir were with us," I thought aloud.

"And who is Lagodir?" Minasse asked me. "Another lesser rune-keeper you have lost along your way?" I shot a glance at Gaelira, for I did not wish to disclose anything too revealing to the newcomer, but she did not seem to be concerned about my conversation with the High Elf.

"No, he was, erm is a Man of Gondor and he was the fifth member of our Company until just recently," I said. "But he became possessed by a malevolent spirit when we overthrew the Steward of Angmar; it is that spirit's plots we hope to disrupt by reaching the valley before it does."

"You say the Steward of Angmar has been overthrown?" Minasse asked pointedly. "How curious that I should be unaware of such an important development. Are you quite sure about this?"

"Indeed, yes," I said. "We four were there when it happened: we saw Mordirith collapse, defeated, and that is when the fell-spirit I mentioned took control of our friend's body and claimed Angmar for his own."

"Really?" he mused. Minasse sounded to me very much like a scholar pondering an academic question who was only entertained by the problem's intricacy. I looked up at him, but all questions died on my lips, for we had reached our destination.

The hateful valley unfurled below us just as before, and the fuming thunder-clouds made the place more unsettling than ever. Lightning flashed across the landscape as the dimness of late afternoon enshrouded everything, but still the rain did not come. As the lightning-fire faded, a thunder-crash erupted which was so great I felt the very mountains themselves tremble under my feet. I looked out over the blasted gorge. There were the high, sharp peaks of the encircling mountains. There was the broad, vile disk with all its queer and frightening runes. There, too, was the incredible gash in the stone which pierced all the way to the disk's midpoint.

But one thing was different. There was a light in that valley: a single point of light, about two hundred feet ahead of and below us. It was perched atop one of the many broken, crumbling obelisks and other structures which surrounded the centre disk. As I looked at it, I saw the light changing colours, and then I realized it was being held aloft by a dark figure. My heart stopped. The light vanished, and the dark figure turned to face us. Its voice rolled out in greeting, powerful and fell enough to overpower the tumult of the impending storm.

"Welcome, my friends," it said. "I expected to find you here. Come. Do not try to run from me."

"We will never run from the likes of you," said Gaelira, but her voice sounded weak; shattered by the rising winds. As one, we began our descent into the valley of Nurz Ghashu. We walked upright and proudly, but inside us hope was quickly withering away.

Guloth had reached the valley first. We had failed again.

The Adventures of Elladan's Outriders -- Episode 51

A Game of Thrones

Hevensday, 29th of Rethe, Year 1418 Shire-reckoning
The Refuge of Gath Forthnir, Somewhere in the Land of Angmar

The Seat of the Witch-king

We passed a few hours in that foul, rancid tunnel. We all remained quiet and spoke only in the softest of whispers when we spoke at all. I was the only one of the Company who attempted to eat a little food, but the overwhelming stench of the sewers under Carn Dum made that impossible. We also each took the time to examine our gear and make sure none of our equipment had been damaged during our crawl beneath the evil city. Laddalld was having an especially difficult time trying to navigate his bulky spear and shield through the narrow passages, and his muscular frame did little to help matters.

"I'm beginning to think I would have preferred a direct assault on the front gate," he muttered angrily. "How much longer must we remain here like so many vermin in this malodorous hole?"

"Not long," answered Gaelira as her bright eyes watched the nearby opening unwaveringly. "We should take this opportunity to recover our strength, for it is uncertain whether we might have another such chance while our mission lasts."

"What mission is it that requires so ignominious an entrance?" the young Man griped back. "Maerchiniath told me nothing of your plans, though I had assumed your aim was to slay some captain of the Steward's hordes. But scare can I see how this manner of approach facilitates such an attack -- unless your grand strategy is to strike down Mordirith's chief dung-flusher?"

"Our hope is we shall have no need to strike down any foe, great or small," Gaelira replied. "We mean to deprive Mordirith of -- an artefact. It is a thing which grants our adversary immense power, and we intend to turn its uses against him by surrendering it to the Free Peoples."

"That explains some, albeit still little enough," Laddalld grumbled as he squirmed and twisted himself around in an effort to get comfortable. "Master Drodie, would it be too much to ask that you remove your iron-toed boot from my backside?"

"Do be more quiet!" Drodie hissed at him. "The sounds of your movements are amplified by the metal pipes and may betray us to our enemies." The fact that it was the Dwarf urging someone else to keep silent gives you an idea of just how miserable Laddalld was. I sat there trying to concentrate on breathing through my mouth while Nephyn was obsessively checking her bowstring every two minutes to make sure it hadn't gotten wet. Lagodir sat still as stone and said nothing.

We had just decided it was time to emerge from the pipes when there came a great din from somewhere outside the sewers. The noise was magnified and echoed by the tunnels so that we had no idea what it may be or where it might be coming from. The Company voted that I should crawl up to the opening and scan the area for any sign of enemies and I did as I was asked. There was a crude little grate of iron lying loosely across the entrance and, peering cautiously out into the dimness, I could see we were in what must have been a drain for storm-water. There was a shallow trench running through the paved ground which fed into the sewer, but I was much more interested in what was going on in the courtyard in front of me.

For courtyard it was, and in it was gathered a large group of Orcs and other foul folk. I saw many squat and bow-legged goblins as well as a smaller but still sizable number of the tall, black Uruks. Many Hillmen were also among them, and the combined numbers stretched on, company by company, until I could no longer count them. There was much chanting and grunting going on, but then one cruel voice was raised above the others and the horde answered back in some language I did not know but which sounded to be full of hate and anger. I shuddered once at the incredible ruckus, then hurried back to my friends as quietly as I could manage.

"What is going on out there?" Drodie asked before I even had a chance to make my report. "It sounds as if an army has just parked itself right on top of us."

"It would appear one has," I answered, and relayed all that I had seen from the grate above.

"Now what do we do?" asked Laddalld as he tried to crane his neck around and see if there was some other way out.

"It would appear we have no choice," said Gaelira quietly. "We must continue to explore these passages and hope we are fated to emerge at some less dangerous point. Quietly now. Padryc, you go in front."

I wasn't thrilled about taking the point since that meant I was sure to be the first to encounter any unpleasantness we might happen across down there. "On the other hand," I thought to myself, "It also means I shall be the first one out of these beastly tunnels once we have found a suitable exit." That thought kept me crawling forward for a good long while.

It had always been quite dark in the sewers ever since we first entered them, but the further on we went the darker and darker they became until we were in pitch blackness. Every now and then I would catch the faint glimpse of a distant grate or opening where the faded light of the outside might filter down to us, but this happened seldom and those ports always ended up being too small or too far out of our reach to be of any use. Hours seemed to pass as I crawled on and on. Though I could see nothing, I could feel that the passageway had begun a slight incline. I had no idea whether this was a good thing or not, but there seemed no other way to go, so I went straight on.

I was just beginning to seriously consider asking whether we ought not turn back and find some other way into Carn Dum when I heard the slap of my hand against the stone echo in a very new and different way than it had been doing up to that time. I also became aware that the air here was much heavier than it had been, as if this was the source (or one of many sources) of the horrendous stink which permeated those sewers. I dared not test it with my nose, but it was clear to me we had come to some new area in the tunnels. I paused and the others shuffled to a halt behind me.

"What is it?" I heard someone whisper from behind (I thought it might have been Gaelira).

"Something -- something's changed," I whispered back. "Wait a moment."

I crept forward with great caution. The ground had leveled off suddenly, and the feel of the stone on my hands was not that of the rough tunnel I had become used to. Instead it was paved -- flagged -- with laid stones as if it were a road, or perhaps a floor. Following a hunch, I waved one hand silently over my head. There was nothing there. I slowly rose to my feet, always expecting at any moment to crack my head on the low stone ceiling (which I had done many times already), but nothing happened. I found I could stand at full height. It was totally quiet, and it remained totally dark.

"I am able to stand," I whispered. My heart was pounding in my chest, for I had no idea whether some vicious, blind tunnel-dwelling monster might not be stalking me in the blackness, but I felt I had to report to my companions. "I think -- I think we might be in a room, or perhaps a bigger pipe. I'm not sure... can anyone make a light?"

There was a bit of hushed whispering which came from the direction of my friends. I assume they were debating the wisdom of my request for light, but very soon I saw a spark and Drodie's bearded face came into view as his torch slowly flickered to life. I looked around me and gagged.

We were, in fact, in a small room which was lined with stone. But the room was nearly overflowing with refuse of the most unimaginable kind -- orc-filth the likes of which I could never have dreamt possible. I saw rotting corpses among the heaping piles of rubbish and dross, the stench of which was so foul you could taste it just by breathing it in. Maggots and other pale, bloated carrion insects slithered away in fear of the light while we all clapped rags to our faces in revulsion.

"Padryc!" hissed Nephyn desperately, "You've led us right into the Orcs' garbage-pit! Let's get away from here before we all catch our death of plague!"

"No, wait!" I answered, and I pointed ahead into the gloom. There, our torch had illuminated what could only be a staircase. It was made of stone and it was spiraling upward.

"This isn't just a pit," I said, "We're in some sort of structure! Come, let's go and see where it leads!"

The six of us bounded up the staircase, eager to be rid of the stinking dunghills below. We ascended a good ways then finally found ourselves on a stone landing. It seemed the Orcs had been accustomed to hurling their refuse down the staircase shaft where it came to rest in the small room at the bottom. Our first act was to ensure we were in no immediate danger, but once that was done we made all haste to find a window or some other method of discovering our location. Moments later we were all crowded around a mean slit of a window and gazing out into the failing light.

"We've done it!" gasped Nephyn.

"Yes," Gaelira agreed. "There can be no question about it: we have finally entered Carn Dum."

"And look!" said Laddalld as he pointed. "See that large courtyard away down there and to our left? That must be where we first thought to exit the sewers, for you can see the Enemy's soldiers are still  arrayed there."

"What exactly are they up to, do you think?" I asked. Despite my elation at escaping the tunnels, the reminder that there was still an entire army of foes within a few stones' throws of us had brought back my sense of caution.

"Military drills, perhaps," mused Drodie and he watched. "Or, it may be they are preparing to launch an attack of some kind."

"Then we must move on, and swiftly," said Gaelira with urgency. "We have cause to hope the Enemy has not yet discovered the existence of Gath Forthnir, but we should not trust to hope so. Stay together and call out if you hear or see any signs of danger. Remember: even now our best chance is in secrecy -- for as long as it can possibly be maintained."

We began our search. Carn Dum was a series of hallways punctuated by large ante-rooms and, while the place was certainly not small, it was taller than it was broad. We found ourselves constantly obliged to search on the next-higher floor and, in this manner, were soon high above the ashen plains of Himbar outside.

"This is taking far too long," said Lagodir from the rear of our troop. His voice was quiet, but it also sounded unusually intense and angry; I feared he grew impatient with our slow movement. "We should be searching for Mordirith's seat of power -- no doubt the throne room where, of old, the Witch-king held his court. The False King would never let the thing out of his sight except at the greatest need, of that you may be certain."

At Lagodir's urging we quickened our pace. My heart was pattering away with every corner we turned, every stair we climbed, and every door we creaked open, but it was still some time later when we finally found it: the throne room of Carn Dum!

It was high up and within the fortress, not far from a grand balcony which overlooked the very courtyard we had seen earlier. Two massive doors of iron swung back silently on enormous hinges to reveal a breathtaking, vaulted chamber. There were columns marching down that hall with banners and livery hanging in adornment. There were braziers of wood and of charcoal in many places and, at the far end, there was a high seat which commanded an imposing view of the court.

But everything we saw was perverted: the columns were stained black as if with old blood. The banners hung in tatters. The smoke from the braziers choked us with an acrid smell, and the throne itself was a horrid, misshapen thing. It looked to be hewn from onyx, or perhaps obsidian, and it was twisted about as if with snakes and razor-sharp thorns cast of black steel. The Seat of the Witch-king.

And then I saw it. Nephyn gripped my shoulder in her excitement and I squeezed her hand in answer. There it was: the palantir! It sat atop a decorative stand just to one side of the throne. It's outside was smooth as glass and it appeared to be about the size of a Man's head, maybe, but its insides churned like thunder-clouds rolled by gale-winds off the Sea. A flickering light played at its very centre and, for a brief moment, I believe all six of us were transfixed by that sight. Laddalld was no less entranced than the rest of us, but I think he finally began to understand our true errand here. Meanwhile, Gaelira stood to my right and her eyes shone with triumph and expectation.

"We have done it!" she whispered. "Come! Let us take it and begone from this place!" We all took several steps toward our goal.

"I think not."

There was a deafening boom as the iron doors suddenly swung shut behind us! Instinctively, Drodie and I ran back to try them, but they would not budge.

"We're trapped!" I cried, heedless of secrecy in my distress.

"You are indeed," came the voice again. It was everywhere and nowhere at once -- a merciless, cruel, mocking, sneering voice. I hated it instantly. Drodie and I ran to rejoin our companions.

"Show thyself!" Lagodir shouted. I admired the Man's courage, even in the most desperate of times.

There was a pause. Then, with a great calmness, there emerged from somewhere behind the dais upon which sat the throne of Carn Dum a terrifying visage. It was taller than any Man I had ever seen -- a good deal taller -- and it was draped in robes of blood-red. It wore shining steel armour which was set all over with bitter spikes and upon its brow there sat a spiked circlet of steel. But under the red cowl I could see naught: no eyes, no face, nothing.

"Ai!" cried Gaelira. "Mordirith is a wraith! Yet another of Sauron's undead servants opposes us. Yet take heart, friends: we have faced such evils before and overcome them."

"Faced another such as I, have you?" asked the wraith laughing. "Flatter not thyselves, feeble ones, for I wield power far beyond thy understanding. Nor, do I think, thou wouldst have wit enough to grasp the grand strategies into which thou hast led thyself and thy impudent friends. Know 'twas by my design that thou wert permitted to enter this place. Thou hast proved thyselves persistent adversaries; I merely wished to exterminate thy delusional selves by mine own blade."

"You lie!" cried Nephyn as she strung her bow. I readied my shield and my dagger.

"I do not lie, Woman," came Mordirith's reply. "I have known of thy pathetic little band nearly since the days of its infancy. Thou wert of no consequence to me for a very long while, but then! Then thou didst involve thyselves in matters far above thy lowly stations. Durst ye to ally thyselves with mine enemies and to aid them as they plot mine overthrow?"

"Oh, enough with the formalities!" said Drodie as he clashed his axe to his shield. "Don't you know hardly anyone has talked that way in nearly two thousand years? Listen, you empty-headed, limp-wristed buffoon: we've come for that there shiny ball. Let us have it now, and we'll consider leaving here without giving you a proper thrashing. I'd sure hate to see that fancy armour of yours get dented."

"Ah, yes: the palantir," said Mordirith, almost disinterestedly. "I fear I cannot permit thee to take the Seeing Stone, my stunted friend." Drodie growled his disapproval of the pejorative. "And I tire of these lies -- I know beyond question that the true purpose of thy pitiable insurrection is to depose me."

"They speak the truth," replied Lagodir. His voice was loud and dreadful in that vaulted chamber. Mordirith paused and beheld the Gondorian. There was a brief quiet, as though of uncertainty, or perhaps of thought. No one moved a muscle.

"Indeed?" came the wraith's voice again, but it had fallen quiet and lost its derisive scoff. "Sayest thou truly? Then I see thou hast moved with a dual purpose, and now the full tale of all thy subtleties are at last laid bare to me." The voice began to grow in rage and hatred. "But what of that? None but my hand shall wield the palantir, for I am the chosen of the Witch-king, the Right Hand of Sauron! I shall see thy spirits lie shrivelled and dessicated before the withering flame of the Great Eye, the more to revel in thy unending torment!"

Thus began the greatest battle that Elladan's Outriders had ever fought. Mordirith wielded an enormous double-edged sword that gleamed with a pale light while he moved with a quickness and a fury which dazzled the eye and bewildered the mind. At first it was all any of us could do to parry or dodge his attacks while staying alive, but slowly we began to turn the tide against him. Lagodir and Gaelira, in particular, fought with a speed and ferocity I hadn't seen from them before. Laddalld darted in and out of the fight, using his spear and shield to great effect while Drodie concentrated on shielding anyone on whom the wraith turned its ire. Nephyn landed a few shots with her bow, but it fast became evident such wounds had no effect on the creature, and so she too entered the fray wielding the Sword of Ringdor.

The battle raged on for what felt like hours, but in truth was probably no more than ten minutes. Even I, who had precious little role in the fight, was exhausted and my muscles ached from the exertion, but gradually our team began to close the circle on Mordirith. Finally, our defensive stances turned to the attack, and the wraith was obliged to parry our unceasing Hail of Blows. Then, quite suddenly, Lagodir charged in, knocked Mordirith's greatsword from his hand, and seized the wraith by its invisible throat! The Steward of Angmar fell to his knees, and it looked for all the world to me as if he was defeated at last.

"How --?" came a strangled cry from out of that faceless void. Lagodir poised his sword with the point ready to thrust into the crimson cowl.

"Thy reign is at an end, weakling," the Gondorian said in an icy voice. "Yield now, and mayhap I shall not send thee vanquished back to the Master where thou shalt writhe in the very torment thou hadst planned for me!" There was only the briefest pause before Mordirith hissed in rage and fury.

"Never will I yield the rule which is mine by right! I command Carn Dum by the will of the High Nazgul himself. I shall return twice as strong, and brief shall be thy sway --"

But Mordirith never finished his last sentence, for Lagodir drove his sword clean through that empty hood with a mighty thrust. His sword splintered into glittering sparks and there went up a chilling cry which slowly faded into the rafters, then I saw the False King's raiment tumble into a formless heap on the floor. We were victorious.

"So passes Mordirith, Steward of Angmar," said Laddalld quietly between deep breaths in his fatigue. "Many have waited long for this day."

"The Steward of Angmar is not slain, my friend," said Gaelira. "He is banished only, though we can hope that he shall remain so for a good while, and none can say what shall become of him once his spirit finds its way back to Mordor, as it no doubt will. This is indeed a great thing we have done here today, but we cannot dwell upon it, for danger remains near to us and this was not our true purpose here in any case. Come! Let us take the palantir and begone from this place at once!"

"Lagodir, are you hurt?" I asked. The Man stood over the fallen wreckage of Mordirith, breathing heavily. He held his sword-arm close to his body and still gripped the broken hilt-shard of his shattered blade. I remembered our previous encounters with the Enemy's foul wraith-thralls and how smiting those deadly things could wreak terrible maladies upon the mortal flesh which struck them, but Lagodir nodded without turning to me.

"I am well," he said, stiffly. "Where is the palantir?"

The orb still sat on its plinth beside the throne of Angmar. As I looked, Laddalld lifted the thing and brought it toward us.

"What manner of sorcery is this?" he asked as he gazed into the ball. "Do you mean to say you five braved torture and death while intending only to rob Mordirith of this toy?"

"Fools!" The voice came from Lagodir, but it did not belong to him. It echoed high in that vaulted chamber, stunning us all to inaction. With the sharp point of his broken sword, he quickly stabbed Laddalld in the midsection, seized the palantir, and fled to the far side of the room!

"What...? Lagodir!" Nephyn cried. We all instinctively rushed to Laddalld's aid, who fell, mortally wounded. Almost instantly there appeared a growing blood-spot on his armour, and I worked to form a compress to control the bleeding. But even as the young Man lay there, I could not stop myself from watching Lagodir as he withdrew from us, holding aloft the Seeing-stone in his left hand. His right hand, still holding his broken sword, remained clenched at his side.

"At last!" he shouted, and the voice was now unmistakable. I looked and saw Lagodir was gone -- no longer did I see in his eyes the gentle and piercing sea-grey of the Gondorian I had come to love. Instead, a dead and merciless white had glossed over them, and I shuddered at the hideous change. Even before he proclaimed himself, I knew who it was that stood before us.

"I, Guloth, am now Steward of Angmar!"

"No!" Gaelira exclaimed, but there was nothing any of us could do. In a flash, all of treacheries plotted by the former Warden of Minas Morgul became clear to me. We had been used: Wenhair's ritual in the Misty Mountains had succeeded in supplanting Lagodir's will with that of Guloth, and the wraith-lord had then used us and his Lossoth servants to facilitate our entry into Carn Dum and effect the overthrow of his rival, Mordirith. Our victory was meaningless, for we had done nothing but replace one tyrant with another, and now even the palantir, the actual goal of our quest, was taken beyond hope of recovery. A great hatred and hopelessness welled inside of me, yet I could do naught but watch and listen as Laddalld lay dying beside me.

"Now I command the armies of Carn Dum," Guloth went on. "And with this artefact of the Downfallen West I shall uncover all the secrets of the World for the glory of the Dark Lord! I shall begin by enslaving the demon which lies chained to the East..." He began to ramble giddly, as if unable to contain his excitement at his newfound power. He spoke of vast hordes pouring out of his realm to conquer all of Eriador and how he would rule from Angmar, always rising higher in Sauron's favour.

"FILTH!" shouted Drodie as he strode toward our nemesis. "If you are so powerful, why do you withdraw? We came for that Stone, and we mean to have it. If that means putting an end to you, then so be it!"

"Ha!" laughed Guloth in derision. "Thou canst not hope for victory. I am invincible! I have defeated Mordirith and soon all of Angmar shall bend to my will."

"We defeated Mordirith, I think you mean," said Nephyn coldly. "Unless I'm mistaken, I do believe you needed us to get where you are now. Which makes me think you're not as strong as you'd have us believe. Or would you like to prove me wrong right now?"

But Guloth only laughed -- a little too quickly, I thought -- and stowed the palantir within the folds of his clothing.

"I have no time for thy insolence, foolish mortal," he scoffed. "I have armies to command and thy lands to overrun. But fear not! No doubt I shall turn mine attentions to thee when I see fit, and then thou shalt learn the true meaning of suffering. For now, farewell, my friends!" Then he darted behind the throne's dais and was gone. We heard the grating of stone as Drodie and Nephyn made to follow him, but they quickly returned to report that Guloth has escaped through some hidden door, and they were unable to discover its location.

"We cannot tarry here," said Gaelira as she examined Laddalld's wound. "This Man will die unless he receives proper care. Padryc has dressed the wound as well as may be, but I fear fleeing this place will not be kind to him. Yet flee we must if he -- or we -- are to have any hope of survival."

"Yes," agreed Nephyn. Her voice was steady, but her eyes burned with an intense hate. "There is nothing more for us here. We have no choice but to retreat."

Gaelira, Nephyn, and Drodie would take turns half-carrying, half-supporting Laddalld as we made our escape. The young Man was in a great deal of pain, but he did manage to walk a good deal of the way. I won't go into all the details of fleeing Carn Dum other than to say it we left the way we came in, and it was excruciating work. By the time we finally emerged from the fortress Laddalld was in an awful state, and there was still the long trek back to Gath Forthnir.

"We must return to the Rangers with all haste," Gaelira told us. "Marchiniath must be warned that his people are no longer safe."

It was roughly halfway back to Gath Forthnir that Laddalld became unable to walk further and descended into a fever. The taller and stronger members of our Company were obliged to carry the stout Man on a bier we formed out of two dry branches and some spare clothing while I did everything I could to secure and replace the dressing on his wound. We managed to slow the bleeding using a mixture of strictories compressed under some cloths, but he continued to lose blood the entire way. The faint light of foredawn was in the air when we finally returned to the Ranger-camp.

We rushed Laddalld to the infirmary and the healers immediately went to work on him, but our friend was very pale and looked likely to die. Despite my exhaustion, I stayed with the others as we held vigil at his bedside, looking for any sign of recovery. A short time later, the four of us were summoned to Maerchiniath's quarters and I went, although I did not wish to go. The Ranger-captain greeted us with a grim face, but he was still in better spirits than when we had first met him many days ago. Gaelira told him everything that had transpired, including about the palantir, though she begged him to keep that knowledge to himself, which he agreed to do.

"Your news seems to be all of woe and sadness," he said, "Yet there is cause too for great joy: that the Steward of Angmar lies defeated is a victory none of us ever thought possible!"

"But we have succeeded only in enabling his replacement with a new Steward," I said, "And one that knows much about us and was deep in our counsels for months. This does not seem to be a good development from where I sit."

"Nor I," agreed Nephyn. "Maerchiniath, you must prepare your people to evacuate these caverns. The new Steward of Angmar knows all about them and he will not allow such a well-ordered and experienced collection of Free Folk to remain here unchallenged for long."

"I agree," Maerchiniath said. "But there remains yet a short time of doubt, for this Guloth cannot hope to suddenly command the hordes of Angmar all at once. The hardship I and others have suffered in this forsaken land has not been spent without gaining some knowledge of our foes, and I tell you this: the allegiances of Guloth's would-be thralls, particularly those of the Hillmen, will take at least some time to solidify. We must seize that time."

"What, then, do you propose?" asked Gaelira.

"Guloth is unknown to me, but he will have to establish his command before he can make any serious moves against us. I shall direct my scouts to begin plotting our path out of Himbar for, as you say, we cannot remain here now that our position is known. The time is ripe to do so since the captains and other officers which lead Angmar's hordes will be bereft of their chain of command, and it will take time before order is restored. It is during this interval that we will have the best chance to overpower the forces which lie close to us, near Barad Gularan, and so make our way south, probably to Gabilshathur. Once we have achieved that, we will decide what is to be done next. In the meantime, what of yourselves? I fear for Laddalld, but I rejoice to see you four are unharmed. Though I might recommend a bath at the earliest opportunity."

Just then there came a knock at the door and Lunathron (the chief-healer of Gath Forthnir) poked his head into Maerchiniath's quarters.

"Milord," he said as he nodded in greeting to the rest of us, "I wish to report that the Man Laddalld is stabilized and as comfortable as we know how to make him. He has asked to see you, but I forbade it telling him he must rest. I hope I have not done ill."

"Of course not, Lunathron," answered Maerchiniath. "You know what is best for him. 'Tis only his youth which rebels against his forced inaction. I will speak with him when you permit it and not a moment sooner."

"How is he?" I asked eagerly.

"His wound is deep but, as far as I can see, it is not poisoned," came the healer's reply. "Nor do I detect any trace of the Black Breath, the vile malady which seizes the heart and slays the spirit that we have seen now and then come upon those who encounter such wraiths of the Enemy. Unfortunately, the wound is mortal and the journey back here caused him to lose an immense amount of blood. Moreover, the wound has become infected and this is the cause of the fever which we have only just now managed to tame. In all candor, I do not see much cause to hope that his life will be spared."

We thanked Lunathron for his report but our hearts were crushed. Maerchiniath glanced at us and declared our meeting at an end, for he could see we were in dire need of rest. We were led back to the little side-chamber we had previously used as a sleeping area. My stomach rumbled angrily, for I could not remember the last time bite or drop had passed my lips, but I could not bring myself to eat. We all had so many questions about what had happened to Lagodir and we pressed Gaelira for answers, but she refused saying she too was weary beyond anything she had ever experienced and that all counsel should be left until after we had recovered ourselves.

We received one more update on Laddalld's condition a short while later, but it was no better than the one we heard earlier. Our heads hung low and Nephyn wept openly. No tears would come to my dry and bloodshot eyes, but a painful lump of grief had lodged itself in my throat. This was now the third Man whose life had been lost thanks to our idealistic quest -- the quest which was now ended in total, utter, and complete failure.