Hevensday, 29th of Rethe, Year 1418 Shire-reckoning
The Refuge of Gath Forthnir, Somewhere in the Land of Angmar
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| The Seat of the Witch-king |
"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.
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