The Great Quest

Mal dipped and dunged under the Nightrider's magic, but wasn't able to land a blow with his blade - which the foe was much more wary of, having sensed the death of the other Nightrider.
Meanwhile, the others pressed at the foe, but the Nightrider was defending a doorway in a slim hall, and only a few could get at him at once.
In time, they had enough to defeat him. But now, more than ever, time was not something they had readily available...

Swaet ran down the old man's face, and a deep, vibrant chord was ringing out throughout the vast chamber. Many stood behind him, but had no time to think on them, all his attention absorbed by the device he worked with. The strain was growing, but he had no time to rest.

Slowly, the image shown in the viewing portal before him overlaid that of the entrance to the void, until one could step directly through, passing straight into that prison.

As it locked into place, the old man let loose a deep breath, for the first part was accomplished. As the two portals overlaid each other, he could feel the power welling out from the place, the power holding the other portal open, and myraid other minor powers flitting about the area.

The old man took another breath, and began to concetrate deeply - now was the difficult part. Now, must he alter the void's portal itself, so that it led elsewhere, to escape for his people...

A smile creased Vardor's face as he saw his master, almost fully revived, and now fighting to get out. He had no doubt that the Dark Lord would succeed; he was far stronger than his adversary, who had at one time been a mere mortal.

Vardor glanced behind him at the battle in the hall. The Nightrider was doing well, and at this rate, the Dark Lord would surely succeed and enter by the time his last Nightrider fell.




Earendil struck feircely, his whip coiling and lashing, striking as if it meant to sear Morgoth's fingers clean off. Morgoth's now visible face showed his pain, but the shadow was going too strong. Soon he would be capable of wrestling the ship out of the seas and tossing it into the void, in his place. How he could gain control of it then, he knew not.

Quickly hurrying to his cabin, he seized a gleaming white sword from the table. He had sensed Morgoth stirring of late, but had never thought that this would truly be necessary.

Running back up the stairs, he faced Morgoth on the deck.

"You cannot escape, tyrant!"

Morgoth made no answer, but his bleeding fingers pulled Earendil closer to the void.

Suddenly, Earendil struck. His blade cut through flesh, slicing through everything it touched with little effort.

Morgoth screamed and released his hold on the ship, holding his maimed hand in agony. But he was almost entirely out of his prison now. Only one swift leap would then carry him straight to the doorway, and then out into Middle Earth.

Which would become another Beleriand, if not worse.

Earendil sheathed the sword and seized the steering wheel of the ship, pulling his vessel away from the edge of the void. The star flew across the darkness of space, reaching the open doorway in the time it took a few heartbeats to pass.

Morgoth pulled himself entirely free and struck like lightening, gaining on the ship like a towering dark wave of evil.

Earendil's whip lashed out, the end of it flicking around Vardor's middle.





Searing pain filled him, blinding him to all else.

But then it suddenly released him, and he found himself floating in black emptiness. He could not breathe, but in this place it was not necessary to breathe. Was he dead?

He turned his head with a great effort and saw his master, the ship and the open doorway all floating away from him in the darkness.

"NO!" he screamed in desperation.

But he could not move.

Suddenly, a great emptiness filled him. He felt his magic sealed away from his body, and all sight left him. He knew that he had entered the void.

The old man gave a gasp, as Vardor entered the void - and the primary source of power fueling the open gateway was cut off. His hands blurred as they moved orbs upon the crystal matrix, and the sound filling the room resonated with power. He had to draw in more strength - it was too late to turn back now, too much committed to give up now...

A grim look grew upon his face, a look he had not worn for centuries. Banishing all shadows from his mind, all cobwebs from his thoughts, he set to gathering magic. That which he had once had was long given up - but there were other sources of magic nearby the portal...

---

The Nightrider hurled Mal backwards with a blow, and blue flames flickered before Harnauro, driving him back. Faradin dived into the gap, sword flashing - and was parried by the Nightrider's own black blade.

Suddenly, a figure flashed down the corridor, slamming the Nightrider against the wall as it passed. As the Nightrider turned to follow it into the room, another figure slammed into it from behind. A familiar figure - the Broodlord.

The Nightrider through him back, but the time bought let the others prepare themselves, and the moved forward, beside the Broodlord - and now it was the Nightrider who found himself struggling.

---

The old man gasped, as power began to flood in, and the crystal in his hands grew brighter. His hands still move acrossed it, almost by themselves, as he moved them more by feel than anything else. Which was good, for soon the bright glow was blindlingly so - enough to prevent him from seeing anything at all.

---

As the Nightrider was forced, slowly, backward, the room behind him suddenly filled with light. A figure was outlined standing before it in a pose filled with... waiting, it seemed. The Nightrider took a step towards the light, and then something seemed to pulse, to echo through the corridors. The Nightrider's form seemed to fade out of visibility for a moment, and then back in... a second pulse, and the Nightrider shuddered. The rest of them felt it, as well, as though something was tearing at them, and staggered back at the aura radiating outwards from the room.

The Nightrider convulsed, and simply ceased to be. Harnauro let out a jagged scream, as his body forcibly reverted to human form. The Broodlord gave a cry, and hurled himself down the corridor, into the glowing light, followed by the other figure standing there.

---

"Now!" cried the old man. "It will not last long, and I know what will happen when it stops."

The armored figure by his side nodded, and suddenly hordes of strange and varied beings were streaming through the portal. The old man looked blankly as they streamed by, breathing heavily, but knowing he and his children were going to a safe place - if a place he would never see. For him, the blindness of the light would never end.

As the last went through, he, and the figure by his side, went through the portal, which shimmered and closed behind them.

---

After a long moment, the light died down. Mal slowly rose up, as did the others. Harnauro was lying on the ground, unconscious, and all felt weakened, but things seemed to have quieted. Mal looked down the corridor, and saw what they had come here to find - the portal to the void, shimmering and open. He had seen it once before, and liked looking at it even less now. But it was what they had come here to find, and it seemed that they were not too late after all, and whatever chaos had just occured had ended.

Then, the magic that had sustained it for centuried drained dry, the castle began to fall.

Slythre's heart leapt in her flesh as the castle began to tilt crazily.

The company was flung to the side as the castle began to waver, its magic disintegrating.

"Come! We must get to the eagles!" Arnon shouted, running for the doorway.

"Wait!" Faradin cried, scrambling at the floor which now was where a wall should have been. "The portal is still open! The battle is not yet over!"

"It'll crumble as the castle does!" Slythre snarled. "No time now, if you don't want to lose your own life."

"He'll get out before then! He is too strong yet!"

"No time for a discussion," she said, seizing his arm.

Easily, he twisted it off and began climbing up the slanted floor, climbing towards the portal and the doors which still swung, open.

"He'll die!" Dania cried.

"It's his life to lose," Harnauro said roughly, seizing her by the arm and dragging her through the open doorway.

Slythre climbed out of the open doorway and skidded down the floor of the next room, stopping her mad fall by grabbing the doorway of the next room.

The castle tilted back right as the fading magic surged again in an attempt to even out.

Quickly the group broke into a run, dashing through the hallways towards where they remembered the courtyard to be. Just as they reached it, the castle tore loose of the last of its holdings and began a sickening drop. The clouds which had surrounded the castle began to quickly recede up into the sky.

Slythre's stomach lurched, but she could not scream; no sound would come out.

Far above, several white specks descended towards the collapsing castle. Walls began to wrench apart from the castle, falling away into the darkness along with their towers.

The flagstones under their feet trembled, and the roaring of wind filled their ears.




Morgoth sent a smashing blow into the hull of the ship, pouring deadly magic into its foundations and forcing it away, a broken star.

Earendil strained his own strength to bring the vessel about, but it was no longer possible for him to man. He would succeed in time, but he was out of the fight at last.

Morgoth scooped up the broken body of his servant, and Vardor looked up into his eyes.

Then Morgoth flung him away; he was useless now.

Vardor's body floated away into the endless darkness, a dead and burned thing, its hopes and dreams having come to naught, and its loyalty in vain.

Morgoth then moved to the doorway, which he noted was flickering. Whoever was on the other side must be giving considerable resistance to whoever Vardor had left to guard. Too great of resistance for comfort.

Morgoth lunged for it, but suddenly, half of the light from it was cut off, as one of the double doors slammed shut.

Morgoth doubled his effort, his face contorting in rage and desperation. He flung black magic ahead of him, its destructive waves striking through the open doorway at whoever was on the other side. But even so, the last door slammed shut.

One last howl of rage and despair passed through Morgoth's lips as he reached the place where the door should have been and passed the empty spot. His muscles began to lurch apart as he began to dissapate once more, the binding spells again beginning to take effect now that his hope and strength were failing. He could resist and hold against it for some time longer, but eventually he would again be a weak shadow, blocked in the void from the world which he had once almost entirely ruled.




Narsh's jaw dropped in horror as he saw the castle begin to fall towards the earth. After all of this effort, he had remained alive and had returned among Vardor's own legions to help them, but now the hope of his life was falling with that castle, and there was no way he could protect her. His dearest heart was falling to a doom in the rubble, and his last reason for living would die with it.

The swarms of black warriors which had circled it dissipated in disorder, strategy and attack forgotten as what they had attacked fell away from them.

Finally, the castle hit the ground and folded inwards on itself, a massive dust cloud filling the air as every part of the castle collapsed.

There was no way anything could have survived that.

He crumpled to his knees, his heart near breaking.





The eagles picked up the last of their charges from the courtyard, talons finally locking around Mal's arms, and they lifted off. An instant later, the castle struck down.

Towers and sparkling walls fell, defenders and attackers all slain in one instant of total destruction.

The eagles slowly glided down and landed on the green meadow, away from the fallen castle.

The army of Vardor was drifting apart, dismayed at the death of their leader. Slowly it began to dissipate into the woods. Some of the orcs and men still stood quite near the bedraggled company, but neither side made any move towards their weapons. All was ended, and both sides knew it.

Gradually, all that was left of Vardor's army vanished into the woods.

"Well," said Mal, "It seems it's over."

The companions sat on a hill, overlooking the valley, where the rubble of the castle was being cleared away by many bustling workers. Just as many were set to building - or rather, re-building - the village. The workers consisted both of the previous inhabitants, and many of Arnon's fellows - for now that they had met their pledge of service, more and more it looked as though it was time for some of them to leave the aerie and to change to a different style of life.

Morgoth had not escaped, and the portal had been closed - ere it shattered on the ground and was destroyed. Faradin's body was found nearby - at the last, it had been him who had sealed the doors shut. If the portal had been open when it shattered... who could say what would have happened? As it were, that menace was ended, to the best of their knowledge.

As for the Broodlord and Aetoo, and whoever they worked with... Mal had not spoken of his encounters with them, though it was obvious he was changed. Their fates were unknown - but, it seemed, no longer a concern of theirs.

Dania suddenly rose up, and as the others looked at her, blushed slightly. "We... have to go, now. There are those who must here of this, especially those of the White Council. I fear to wait any longer."

As the other nodded, Narsh slowly rose by her side - and though injuries and bruises adorned his body, he seemed truly glad to be alive. Soon, all of them were standing and saying goodbyes, as the rest also has places to go, and others to inform. Hugs and farewells were exchanged, and soon they were on their way, while light remained.

Arnon, too, bid them all farewell, for he had to return to inform the rest of his people of these climactics events. In moments, only Slythre, Mal, and Harnauro remained.

Slythre looked at the others, and raised an eyebrow. "Well, where do the winds take you two?"

Harnauro laughed - a strange and deep sound, so different from the bitter laughter that was all she had heard from him before. "I.. I have been given a second chance. Whatever magic was unleashed in their freed me from the curse left on me. And now... I fear I have missed many things, and spent far too much time in the company of only animals. I had forgotten much until my time with all of you..."

"So what paths lie before you?" asked Mal softly.

The smile faded from Harnauro's face, as he said, "There have been many rumors from the East, that Sauron is stirring again. With the binding he laid upon me gone... I plan to do what I can, to repay him and his for my long years of suffering. I have never known much more than how to fight, and I am sure he will have many armies for me to aid against. I fear, whatever we have accomplished here, the world is still entering a dark and dire time."

Slythre nodded, sadly. "The world is changing, whether for better or worse I do not know..." She trailed off, then looked up at Mal. "And what plans do you have?"

A shrug. "I was stripped of... what I was, in a way. But not completely. I still have many trinkets scattered about the land, things that were once relics of my power, and I may be able to regain some measure of what I was. So I plan to simply wander, I suppose... and for now, east is as good a direction as any," he finished, glancing at Harnauro, who nodded. Looking back at her, he asked, "And you?"

She sighed, saying, "Like you, I seem to have no real direction or goal. I have been caught up in this quest, and it has let me forget that my previous life among the corsairs is done." A smile tugged at her mouth, though, and her eyes twinkled, as she said, "Still, life around you has been interesting, to say the least. As much as I don't consider myself a hero, I have been witness to great things. I think, perhaps, I shall accompany you a little longer."

Harnauro clapped her on the back, saying gravely, "You will be greatly welcome." Shortly thereafter, the companions headed off - towards the east - amid laughter and smiles.

---

Ulrog watched them go from the bushes, and after they left, wiped sweat from his forehead. It was hot, inside the suit of golden armor he was wearing. He still wasn't quite sure what had happened, but had somehow been dragged along with them into the flying castle, where he had finally crept away from them - for all the good it had done him, trapped hundreds of feet above the ground.

Still, he thought his luck might be running good for once. He had somehow wandered into a gleaming room filled with weapons and gold and jewels - and somehow, when the castle's remains had slammed into the ground, that room had survived mostly intact, and he had come out of the wreck with only a twisted arm - along with a suit of gold, a gleaming silver blade set with rubies, and a sack of as many gems as he could carry.

He had heard the heroes conversing, and from what he had heard, things were happening in the east, dangerous things - so that direction was right out. To the south was Rohan, and he hardly wanted to return there, to where his clan had been all but wiped out in the fighting. Or the north, to the elven woods - at the very thought, he shuddered. So that left the west.

Tossing his sack over his shoulder - and nearly collapsing at the weight - he began creeping through the bushes and along the road, towards the mountains. With what he had found, he'd be a king among goblins! So many opportunities had opened up to him, Ulrog thought, as he continued staggering onward - so maybe this adventure had been worth it, after all.