Fangorn Forest

As night came over them all, Mal sought sleep, but found it eluded him.

::Why am I even still with these people?:: he thought to himself, lying on his back in the woods, staring up into the sky.

::It must be this Book of Secrets. Yes, that has to be it. I can't leave whatever that may be simply lying around, in the hands of one who knows I am active in this world again.:: Mal nods at the paths his thoughts travels across.

As he rests again, he becomes acutely aware of the presence of something by his side, tucked into one of the many hidden pockets of his coat. Reaching into a space which appeared far smaller then it actually was, he felt the Palantir. Surreptitiously glancing about, and sending his senses out to ensure no one was about, he drew it out.

Looking into its depths, he decided to use the artifact once more, despite what caution told him - but he had always sided with impulse over safety.

As his vision narrowed into a small point, he suddenly found himself looking out over myriad realms and forests, from far, far above. Looking down, he saw a deep and mighty forest, spreading out... and at one end, a tall tower, and towards another, the fortress the sought - aye, this was Fangorn. He sent his senses down towards where he lay, and was amazed at the sheer effort it took - but then, he realized, it must be much easier for those who possessed it by right, according to legend.

Still, he was of the ancient spirits, and bent the globe to his will, to pear about the campsight and their sleeping forms. More than this, his pulse quickened, for as he drew closer, he sensed his own person, and his own power about his form.

The implications hit him immediately, and once more he let himself fade back to the far overhead view. Quickly, he began to rapidly soar acroos the many lands of Middle Earth. He unfocused his vision, and passed over the land at such a speed that to others, the orb simply looked like a blur of moving colors. Mal's senses were stressed to the limit, waiting, waiting... ::there!:: he exclaimed silently, marking one prominent city, and moving on.

Though it seemed an eternity to him, his search was only taking a few minutes in the actual world. Sweat, still, began to break out on his otherwise smooth features, and a strain come over his form. Soon, Mal had marked the locations of all his hidden caches of strength, save one. As he realized where it was, he felt a bit trepid about sending his mind there for confirmation, but once more shrugged off his fear, and sent his mind roaming towards Mordor. As he passed into the very heart of the round, he nodded mentally to himself, as he realized it was, indeed, trapped at the heart of Sauron's lair.

Then, the castles and barren landscape slipped away, and a face filled his vision - one he recognized well, though it was malformed and darkly shaped compared to the beautiful visage it had been when he last had known it. He quickly broke the connection, and though the other mind grappled to hold him, he had always been adept over any others at slipping away from an enemy's grasp.

Giving a visible shudder as the palantir faded to dark, he quickly tossed it back into his cloak. He hadn't been seen fully - thanks to the darkness of the woods and the clouds cloaking the moon overhead - but it had still been close.

::I had heard he had taken up the role of his former master, but had not realized how much he has changed. I must take more care in the future.::

Once more Mal settled in to rest, realizing that much of the night still remained, but despite the exhaustion from using the orb, he found himself unable to sleep. With a silent sigh, he rose up, and began wandering through the woods, taking care to remain unseen and unheard.

Having no expectations of others nearby, he froze when he heard a small sound (one most would have overlooked) from nearby. Reviewing where he was, he realized that he was still fairly close to the camp. Looking into the woods, he saw dark shapes moving through the gloom, but even his eyes could not make them out in any detail.

Quite alarmed, he still betrayed no presense as he rapidly returned to the camp. Arriving in minutes, he quickly woke the others, who were quite disturbed at the trouble.

He spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, but it carried to the ears of all in the party, and was uttered with deep concern and urgency in its tone.

"We must hide, or be away! Others come, and I feel they may mean us ill, for who else would wander in these parts?"

The group quickly stood, trying to ignore the aching of their bones from the hard travel. Quickly, they followed Faradin and Malagar's lead out of their campsite and into the woods.

"We have a head start," Faradin whispered. "They're trying to creep up quietly, and we're just trying to escape. They won't start really chasing until they get to our campsite and find that we've flown the coup."

"How many were there?" Slythre asked. "Could we set an ambush?"

"No, there were too many for that," Mal answered quickly.

Quickly, they headed on in the darkness. However, they never heard any outburst of anger from behind them.

"Either they still haven't found our camping site, or they don't want us to know they have," Narsh said quietly. "It would take a very well controlled enemy to avoid making an outburst of any kind. Obviously this isn't orcs we're dealing with."

"If it is the Balrog," Slythre whispered, "He would know our power, and not be foolish enough to send that kind of fighter against us."

"Do you think that it's Morandras?" Syntia asked Mal in concern.

"If so, he probably has some highly trained fighters with him. They'd send none but their best to deal with us."

The group pressed on into the night, fearing the silence which surrounded them. If they could only hear some marking of their pursuers, it would be a relief.

"We can't afford to lax up," Faradin whispered. "I can't see how they could follow us in this darkness, but it's possible they have. We must retain this pace for at least a mile more."

Suddenly, there was a whistling in the wind, and they heard several thunks.

For a moment, no one understood what had just happened. Then, Faradin's eyes widened. "Arrows! These hunters have night vision!"

Several more arrows whipped past, one nicking Syntia's arm.

Abandoning all attempt at stealth, the group fled full speed into the forest, smashing through bushes and ducking past trees. Syntia raised her arm, and a blast of light raised into the sky, lighting up the forest.

"Come! Now at least we have a chance to fight back!" she cried. "We have no chance at flight!"

Quickly, Narsh and Faradin let knotched their arrows, and quickly ducked for cover, their eyes scanning the trees for targets. Suddenly, a black clad figure leapt from behind a tree, black garments swishing about it, and a glint of armor coming from underneath. Two arrows instantly connected with it's chest, and bounced off harmlessly.

The figure's face was that of a skull, and its sword swung down at its enemies. Three more warriors leapt out of hiding places, weapons drawn. Two more appeared in front, swords raised.

Faradin dashed into the first one, his sword flashing. It was quickly deflected, and then the attack was pressed against him, his opponent easily his equal. Narsh and Dania drew their weapons, and quickly began working as a team on another, pressing it backwards. However, soon it also regained control of the fight. The group was pressed backwards into an ever shrinking group, none of either side falling.

Suddenly, Mal and Syntia both stretched out their arms in one direction, and two of the enemy attackers were sweapt apart, flung into the trees. Quickly, the group lunged into the opening, fleeing for all they were worth.

*Mathron, should these attackers be yours or mine? I can go either way, but I think they should be yours. Possibly sent out after Mal.

*Thanks for keeping it up guys, I'm still here. Just getting settled in my new classes. I have no spare this semester, so I won't have as much internet time either.*


As the group ran, and some stumbled, through the darkness, they met with a raging river. It's torrent mocking them in the night.
"Can we cross it?" Dania asked. Her voice, though she was nearly shouting, could barely be heard by those around her.

*Hmm, I guess they will be mine... and I can work with this, I think so indeed...*

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"Not in any normal way!" Mal shouted back, already coming up with a plan. Grabbing a rope from withing his cloak, he tossed it to Faradin, knowing the ranger would easily figure out his plan.

Indeed, Faradin quickly tied some large sticks to the end, and then swing it over across the river and onto a tree branch on the other end. Tugging at it, he yelled above the torrent, "It's no good, it will never support our weight without slipping off."

Mal slipped past Faradin, ignoring his statement, and leapt onto the rope, which the ranger barely realized to hold on to. Mal somehow managed to shinny up the rope, holding it with his one hand and scurrying across simply with his legs. Somehow, the weight held, and when Mal got across, he tied it more firmly to the tree.

The others crossed, moving quickly over the river, as they could hear the sounds of the attackers approaching. On the other side, Mal left the rope tied, but frayed it nearly through, and then took off into the woods again after the others.

Many hours later, the group finally slowed their movement, having gone for miles with no sign of any more being followed, and stopped beneath a copse of trees, all of them thoroughly exhausted.

Mal sat by himself, even more drained than the rest, for he had no sleep even before the flight. And that figure, the way he was garbed.

::They were not meant to kill me:: Mal realized with a shock, nearly startled into leaping up.

::Why else appear as M'ertan? Someone must have seen him attack me atop Orthanc... and yet, they fought well. Still, had it been M'ertan, or even his servants, we would all have been dead, and likely none of us would even have known it. Could someone suspect I... no, none could have seen through the cloak of shadows. Yet the attack was obviously directed at me, and they meant to startle me with their appearance, undoubtedly! But why?::

Mal's inner dialogue went over and over, trying to puzzle some reason for the attack, but finally the simple need constrained by his now nearly mortal body wore upon him, and the darkness of sleep covered his vision and thoughts.

Agravigan's keen eyes quickly swept over the scene. The arrows, the signs of the struggle through the brush, and the other signs of combat. His superb vision actually caught a couple linked pieces of chain mail on the leafy floor.

"There was a fight here, my lord," Agravigan said as he scanned the brush. "Quite recent as well," he added after making a few more observations. "They went this way."

Soon, Agravigan had lead Lord Unvar and his men to the river. "They must have escaped on that rope," he said, pointing at the cord hanging from the branch. "And they were too smart to follow them that way."

"Interesting," Unvar said. "Obviously this isn't orcs, otherwise we'd have seen several dead bodies lying around. Dead orc bodies. These attackers were chosen for skill, and brains."

"But not skillful enough to catch their quarry," Agravigan said as he noticed the cut in the rope.

"They had a distinct disadvantage," Unvar replied coldly.

Agravigan decided it was better not to argue the point, and continued to look around, trying to find a way to cross the rushing torrent of water. Finally, he turned away. "We'll have to find a area which is easier to cross. The limbs of the trees look to weak, and this river is simply to strong ford, here."

"We have been catching up with them," Unvar said, angrily. "I won't lose that hard earned lead going a long way out of my way into the forest. It'll give the Balrog more time to notice our presence, and it'll give that rabble band a good, large amount of time to widen the distance that we've struggled to close."

"All right," Agravigan answered. "Are there enough ropes here to swing all of our men across? If we could hook a cord to one of the farther back, stronger branches, we could possibly get a man across and have him secure the other ropes."

"Certainly," Unvar said. "But swinging across won't work in every case. We need to make a rope bridge across the river."

About thirty minutes later, the first rays of dawn shown over the wilderness. That light fell across the exhausted travelers, the determined corsairs and their ferocious pursuers, who were already swiftly catching up with their quarry. They had been foiled once, but that had simply angered them. They wouldn't be stopped again.

The other were sleaping. The last night had drain the forces of all of them. All not realy Syntia had wait for thousand of years to live moment like this and had only started to have fun. Up to now she had carfully hid her true power, as well as her impressive fighting skill.
The last day had been exhausting but few hours was all she need to fully recover. She had remove the arrow and drop it in the small fire they had this time.Already her body, with little magical help, was healing. She also cast a subtle spell on the other so that their sleep would be without any stress or fear. And as a last precaution she altere their apperance so that any creature short of a Maia fully searching for them, would see only brushes totaly normal in a forest.
It was obvious that Mal was hiding information from them, in fact almost everyone was doing so, even her. But in Mal case it's more obvious, years didn't change him a bit and she also got the fealing that he think of himself as the center of the recent event, possible but unlikely.
She was thinking while taking care of the wounded in the groups. Narsh was in very bad shape, in fact she wonder how he manage to make that far without any help. She quickly neutralyze the poison still within him, she smile, he will feal much better in the morning. She tend the wound of everyone, using her magic only when absolutely necessary. Fortunately none present, except for Mal, was injured to the point that even her magic couldn't help them and Mal was different in nature so he will be able to bear his wound for a long time.
After she finished her work she sat and think more of the recent event, wonderring were this will lead her.

Slowly, night faded into morning, and the group set off again, much of their strength revived. Although they had expected to be hunted, the sort and intensity of it that they'd had to go through was not what they'd expected. They moved at a relatively quick pace, careful to avoid being seen by anyone's unwanted vision. Mal had checked the palantir that morning, and had seen that Unvar's force were closing in very swiftly. He had urged his companions to equal speed, so that they could maintain their distance ahead of the corsairs. Strangely, last night's attackers didn't show up on the palantir. There were many possible explanations for this, but none of them pleasant.

"Let's go a little faster," he said.

"If you wish," Dania said. "You're the most hurt of any of us. If you can manage it, we can keep up."

The group proceeded to move even faster. The mountains were now a good deal closer, and the forest was beginning to thin out, showing that it was coming to an end.

"Once we leave the forest, we'll have left the last of our cover," Faradin remarked. "The attackers that came at us last night will be able to see us, and Unvar if he's pursuing."

"Then we'll just have to really pick up speed once we leave the forest," Slythre answered.

Just then, they began to see the shining afternooon light from ahead. They soon reached the end of the forest, and looked out upon a broad, grassy plain, at least four miles long, with a gentle, thin river in the middle of it. Beyond that was the mountains, rising tall and gray in the sky.

As they stepped out from the canopy of trees, their spirits grew a bit higher. The sunlight, after the darkness of the woods, was a welcome relief.

Their relief was short lived, however, as a figure sprang out from the trees overhead, landing in a roll a ways in front of them. Obviously they realized that, once on the plains, they would have much less chance of catching the groups. Two more of his companions - all clad in black mail and wearing grinning skull faces, landed beside them.

"We have to get past them!" called out Dania, and the group charged towards them, catching them off balance, and driving them back, so that the fight was under the sunlight above, and out of the darkness of the woods.

Soon though, the warriors recovered, and as three more dropped down behind the group, things looked greatly worse. The warriors moved with expert precision, and betrayed no sound save for the strikes of their blades against those of the party.

The dire, and silent, fight was soon to come to a bloody end, when relief came from an unexpected quarter. A hail of arrows fell over all of them, but where from a distance aways, and failed to hit any of them. Still, the distraction helped, as Unvar's corsairs charged out of the woods towards the fight.

The leader of the masked figures gestured with one hand, while still fighting, and the three at the back of the group turned about and charged into the corsairs.

Soon, the odds began to even, for Faradin and Narsh were able to hold of the two warriors remaining, with the help of the others, while Syntia was engaging their leader in a tremendous show of skill, with a blade she had brought forth from some hidden place.

Still, the glimpses behind them showed no hope, for the other three warriors were ripping through the corsairs, and though Unvar was holding off one of them, soon they would be able to return to the stalemate just outside the woods.

Mal tensed up, angered at this turn of events.
::Is it time?:: he thought, and drew his blade back, preparing himself, but before he could do whatever action he planned, a grey shape blurred out of the woods and into the warrior Narsh was fighting. The form slammed into the chest of the figure, and they tumbled away from the fight in a heap. When it came to a stop, the blur was revealed as an immense grey wolf, now standing atop the corpse of the skull faced foe.

The other enemies saw this change in the conflict, and leaving the dead and dying corsairs behind them, charged back into the fray. The wolf leaped out, silent as death, and wripped on of them open with its claws - claws that tore straight through the powerful armor! Then, it and the other two circled each other warily.

Narsh leapt to the side of Faradin, lending his aid, and together they began to press their foe backward. Syntia, however, encountered a difficulty. Stepping back from the one she faced, she mouthed a few words, and waved at its chest.

Stunned, she barely managed to deflect his blade as he charged towards her, unaffected by whatever powerful magic she had hurled at him! She recovered quickly, but he had managed, while she was shocked, to draw a small cut across her arm, and though she still fought, her blood seemed to burn at the cut. She knew it was not poison, for she had long since been immune to such things, but it still bit and flared within her, an agony of pain racing from the one small scratch. Only once before had she known such pain - when injured by a captain in the service of Melkor. Her foe wielded a blade forged in Angband!

Mal jumped to her side, now confident the party could prevail on its own. He did not even try and get through the guard of the one he faced, but his purpose was otherwise. In a flurry of motion and a dazzling spinning of his blade, he leapt about and over the figure time and again. His goal was not to harm his foe, but keep it occupied and unable to bring its might to bear upon him or any of the others.

It did, shortly catch on to his plan, and jumped past him, swinging its blade toward Slythre, who was throwing daggers at the remaining warrior facing the wolf (the other having been torn apart already.)

Slythre spun to the side, and the figure lunged at her again, when it froze, and staggered, looking down at the long blade emerging from the front of its chest. It slid off the sword and fell to the ground, revealing Dania standing behind it, breathing heavily.

The last two of their foes were taken out nearly simultaneously, one falling with both Faradin's and Narsh's weapons embedded in him, and the other having it's throat torn out by the grey wolf.

Mal hurried over to their leader, who still barely lived, despite the hole in its chest. As he approached it, the skull it wore for a face flickered and melted into another shape - a deformed and twisted mockery of a human face. Mal pointed the dagger in his hand at the twisted visage, growling, "Who are you, and why were you sent?"

The voice that emerged from the creature was a foul and sibilant whisper. "Weee are the waatchers, foooll!"
With these words, it hurled itself off the ground, with the last of its strength, and Mal tossed his own self backwards, leaving the figure to collapse, dead, on the ground.

Turning, with the rest of the party, to look to the woods, he saw that the corsairs had fled after their tremendous losses. As well, the wolf aimed one glance at him, and then took off into the woods as well. Also, all noticed the form of Syntia, in obvious pain, resting on one knee.

Hurrying to her side, Dania asked, "Are you alright? Where did they harm you?"

Syntia responds, with a wan smile, "I will be fine, soon. Their blades were made with a special substance that is harmful to my kind. The weakness will pass soon, and I can bear it until it does."

"If that is the case," said Faradin, "Then we had best move as fast as we can, in our state. Their may be more of these... watchers, or whatever they are, about. As well, this commotion certainly could draw the attention of those we do not wish to alert to our presence."

He turned, and headed off across the plains, and the others, somehow mostly unharmed, hurried after him as fast as they were able.

Only Mal spared one look back, wondering how the wolf had ended up in this part of the world. He then dismissed the thought, like so many other things, from his mind, and continued on.

It wasn't long before Unvar halted the retreat of his men. The skull faced creatures had struck terror into them, but they still were loyal to their commander, and once away from their horrible adversaries, they regrouped around him.

"Come," he said. "Agravigan tells me that our attackers have been slain, and we have now more than one reason to follow them. They have stolen the palantir, and Slythre is also with them." Unvar's eyes blazed in anger as he looked out at the plain.

"Our losses have not been too great, as most of our troops were still in the forest when the enemy attacked. Even those fighters cannot destroy an army by themselves. The traitors have been weakened, and though they bear magic with them, I believe that now is our one great chance to take them. I want them alive, if possible, but if necessary, the magical ones you may kill."

He looked out at the group, and said, "I expect them to cause us trouble, and they may kill a great number of us before they die. But they will lose. Come, follow me."

Then, leaving his wounded in the forest, he led his fresher men out to meet them.

Unvar and his men quickly closed in on the wounded and fatigued group. They moved warily, keeping an eye on the trees, for fear of a reappearance of the wolf.

Unvar stood out on the plain, a black figure standing out in the golden grass, leading a large force of corsairs.

Seeing that running would be of no avail, as they'd be shot down while trying to cross the river, the group came to a halt as the corsair leader came to meet them, followed by several of his strongest warriors. The rest of his men stayed at a respectful distance from the groups, but close enough to intervene if need be.

Unvar walked forward, Nardran and Agravigan at either side.

As they came to a halt in front of the group, Nardran crossed his arms. This aught to be an interesting encounter. Nardran's eye paused momentarily on Slythre. He was surprised that she'd survived the past few days. But this wasn't the first time she'd surprised him. Now what would really surprise him would be she managed to survive this meeting.

Unvar looked hard at the different members of the band, his gaze skipping over Dania and Narsh quickly, but slowing as it came upon Mal, the ranger, and Slythre. When he looked at her, her eyes turned to the ground, and she didn't return his angry look.

He turned his gaze slowly onto Mal, who appeared to be the leader of this band.

"Strange how history repeats itself," he said with a cold smile. "This scene vaguely reminds me of one that we shared in the woods together. All of us. Perhaps one might ask why he is betrayed by all of those that he considered to be on his side at one time?"

*Um, how would they know Mal has the Palantir? Last Unvar knew, the Balrog had it, right?*
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"Betrayal? A harsh and heavy word, and one not to be thrown about lightly," responded Mal, rising up to his full height, from where he had leaned against a tree.

"Yes, we met earlier, and we met to discuss a mutual nemesis at the time - Saruman, who was our enemy merely because of what he had stolen. Together, we got into the private sanctum of one of Middle Earth's most powerful beings. You got what you sought, though it was not what you wanted - and I, I got this." Mal gestures to his right side, where the lack of an arm is readily apparent.

"Then, once more, we seemed to be on the same sides, when you assaulted the dark one's fortress. A mighty task, but one your forces accomplished. The dark one was, and is, a foe of both of us."

Mal points at Unvar, a swift gesture that causes the corsairs to involuntarily step back. Mal's voice rises, an element of anger entering into it. "And yet, you follow us, with harmful intent! You chase at our heels, and plague our passage! Who is the betrayer, indeed!"

Unvar, enraged as well, bellows back at him, "You would claim you have not betrayed me, yet you harbor one who did!" And here, he glares at Slythre, who continues to avoid his gaze.

"Slythre made a choice, albeit a bad one, and now has to live with that decision." Mal's voice calmed, then grew louder once again. "She is now under our protection! Leave her be, and in return, we will aid you against the dark one. He is a menace to all, and perhaps he has the item you seek, as well..."

Unvar looked taken aback at this suggestion, and then his eyes narrowed, wondering at the offer.

"Well, lord Unvar? What shall it be? A fight now, to the harm of all of us, or an alliance once again?"

*Agravigan was spying on them in the forest when Slythre joined them, remember. While he did this, he saw the palantir in Mal's pouch. He was trying to collect information, and taking in what the other people had would be useful.*

"I wonder what the ways of your people are, where one may steal from another and still claim to be their ally," Unvar said, his voice full of anger.

"You joined with a ranger, who was actually stealing information from me, you steal my palantir, you join a traitor to my cause, and you say that you wish join us again? How much of a fool do you think I am?"

Unvar's eyes flashed with anger, and he drew his sword. "I will give you one more chance to explain yourself. Do it well, or many will die today. And those that do will not be only ours."

The troops moved closer, and several arrows were put to bow strings.

*Um, their was a reason I included the following line when Mal was looking at the palantir:
"Remembering Slythre's former companion, with the magic eyes, he drew his cloak about the orb as he inspected it. He might see through solid rock, thought Mal, but nothing could pierce the darkness of this cloak!"
I wanted precisely to avoid this...
Ah well... if you insist that Unvar knows of it, I will let that be the case...*

*Sorry, I didn't know he had a magic cloak. He probably would have sent people after him anyway, because of Slythre, even if he didn't go himself, though. And during the pursuit, they could also have seen it, as they got closer. You know, they did get awfully close a few times, and Agravigan could have seen it then. In any case, it's pretty logical that he would have found out, even if it was directly before they made contact.*

*Well, I was intending that not even the people with him would realize it... but ok, we can go with your choice...
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Mal's eyes narrowed, as he looked at Unvar, and as he spoke, one of his hands started slowly twirling about, as though grasping something. "Explain myself? I have no need to explain to one such as you."

Unvar's eyes widen at the audacity of Malagar, and he prepares to scream the order to fire upon them, prepared to regain his palantir at any cost.

A harsh voice drifts out before he can speak, however. "I wouldn't do that, if I was you."

Turning, Unvar sees a figure standing aways from the fight, holding an immense bow at full extension, aimed directly at Unvar's heart. Glancing at his men, he can see that all of them - as well as the others they had cornered - were taken by surprise by this figure.

He glanced at this new adversary before responding, taking his measure. Garbed completely in gray, wearing a hooded cloak over well worn leathers, the face within the hood was that of a young man, but his eyes - eyes dark as night - were ancient. Though his features were young, his hair and beard were both gray as well.

The figure spoke again. "Now then, let us put aside our weapons, and discuss this like gentlemen before... someone... gets hurt."

A slow, cold smile stretched across Unvar's face. "Both this and a magical wolf? What surprises will you come up with next, Malagar? These assistants certainly could have been helpful to you when you lost that arm."

His grip tightened on the sword, and he brought the blade up, pointing at Mal's chest.

*By the way, Elbreth, I think it's time for you to intervene, because this could very easily become violent. I'm afraid that calling that this figure's appearance and Mal's response have certainly escalated a very dangerous situation. If someone doesn't make a compromise, I think that main characters on both sides will end up dying. If it came to a fight, it would be illogical if only corsairs died.*

*Agreed, things are starting to look quite heated - some mediating here could be good...
And I must admit, Lief - I've been using this and the last fight to introduce other elements into the game that I had been wanting to for a while. All shall be revealed with them - eventually. *
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"I would like nothing else then to see you die, Corsair," Faradin said hoarsely, "but this is neither the time nor the place." Stepping forward he interposed himself between Unvar and Mal. "As a Corsair Lord you most likely have some of the blood of Numenor flowing in your veins, remember that heritage, and the fact that our common ancestors fought the same being that we are fighting now." Reaching out he touched the blade and slowly lowered it, "Now is not the time for anyone to die."

*Never thought it would be the Ranger did you?*

*No I didn't. But I'm afraid he hasn't entirely healed what has happened here. Someone's probably going to have to agree to at least one of Unvar's demands. It wouldn't be in character for him to waltz off with them to fight the Balrog without any explanations or repayment. Someone's going to have to assist him in this, and I'd prefer it if it wasn't Syntia. Unvar's been mentally controlled before, and now he's developed a sort of strength against it. He'll be able to realize what's happening to him if that happened.*

"Agreed," said Mal, slowly relaxing.
"Come now, do we need threats or violence among our sorts? We fought together before, and we know that whatever would result from a battle would benefit neither side."

A note of exasperation comes into his voice as he says, "Now then, what is it you seek from us? Slythre and the ranger are our friends, and I will tell you frankly that surrender of either of them is not an option for us. And what is this 'palantir' of which you speak? I can say with plenty honesty I have taken nothing from you or your men."