Fangorn Forest

Unvar lowered his sword arm the rest of the way as a thought struck him. "Perhaps I have done you an injustice. I realize now that I never told you what the treasure I went to Orthanc for was. It was the Seeing Stone that I went for, the palantir. You were fighting the Balrog and his followers. If you took the palantir from it as your portion of the spoils, then well for you."

Most of the anger had disappeared from his face, as he realized that Mal had thought it was the Balrog's, not necessarily something owned by Unvar.

"I was mistaken," he said after a moment. "But now you know what it was that called me from the coasts of Harad to take. It was stolen from me by Saruman, and from him by the Balrog. Now the circle is almost complete, as it was taken from him by you.

"Now you know what it is that I desire, and it is time that you proved if you are what you say, a wronged friend, or if you are a deceptive enemy."

Mal's eyes widen in realization, and a slow, "Ahhhh," escapes him.

"This item you refer to, it is this, perhaps?" Mal reaches within his cloak and pulls out the palantir, which gleams in the bright sunlight.

Unvar's face gleams nearly as bright as he looks upon his goal at last, and says, "Aye, that is it!"

Carefully, with a solemn face, Malagar approaches Unvar, and hands the orb over to him, saying, "Then let this settle all between us. From what I have seen of it, it is a treasure indeed, especially if such as Saruman and the dark one were after it."

Unvar took the palantir from Mal, and nodded. "Very well."

He glanced at Slythre, and then looked back at Mal. "You have chosen something deceitful and evil to protect, but now that is your business. I give Slythre to you now, to do with as you will. If she ever leaves your protection, though, her life will not be spared, as our customs condemn traitors to death. And I have no desire for those customs to be changed."

Faradin's face hardened as he saw the ancient treasure of his race being handed from Mal to Unvar, but controlled himself, knowing that this was not the time to argue over the rightful owner of the Palantir, for while it may have been Unvar, by right it belonged to those that made it and carried it with it's six sister stones to Middle-Earth when Numenor fell.

"Perhaps we should talk to our new friend? I want explanations."

"I don't know if I would classify us as friends," Unvar said with a cold look at Faradin.

"You yourself just said that you wanted me dead. Keep your questions to yourself, you will find nothing from me but a steal blade. My business in Middle Earth is ended."

"No it isn't," came a voice from behind Unvar, and the group shifted to look at the speaker.

Nardran continued, "Wouldn't it be a dishonor to you if your enemy survived your attacks, and you left your ally to fight it alone?"

"Don't try to draw me into your personal struggle for revenge," Unvar said, pointing a finger at Nardran.

"It would be said that the great Lord Unvar of the corsairs was beaten, and fled in retreat from Middle Earth," Nardran continued in a mocking tone of voice.

"It's not true!" Unvar said angrily, moving toward the speaker.

"That he was afraid, and the one foe he never could beat was one skulking in the mountains with a band of rabble in a rock castle. By such as this, the great Lord Unvar was turned away, hiding behind petty alliances for fear of his own doom."

Unvar was now very close, his eyes fierce with wrath. Nardran remained where he was, not shifting a muscle.

"You know that this enemy is more than you make him out to be," Unvar said, coldly.

"But who else will?"

Slythre was shocked by the impetuousness of the speaker. Who he was, she could not imagine. But whoever it was was obviously a complete idiot.

"You claim friendship with this man, but will not help him against his enemies," Nardran said, pointing at Mal and then lowering his hand.

"My duty in Middle Earth is done!"

"Your duty never called for what you've done now. You've abandoned your subjects, in chase of a magical rock. You abandon both your subjects, and your allies. What will be next, great Lord Unvar?"

Unvar's gauntleted fist smashed into Nardran's chin, throwing him back, and he sent a swift second into the elf captain's gut, dropping him to the ground.

"So you have some will to fight back after all," the elf said, as he looked up at Unvar's infuriated face, and the dagger he held above Nardran's own.

The others were too surprised by the sudden confrontation to say anything. And indeed, it didn't seem their place to.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, Unvar released the captain's throat, throwing him back to the ground.

"You are trying to make me fight the Balrog," Unvar said quietly. "You're trying to arouse my pride, even at the cost of your own life. You know that I have a much better chance of killing the Balrog than you do, so you're even willing to sacrifice yourself to get it done."

He shook his head in wonder at the captain. "How deep does your hatred go?"

"Deep, sire," was the response. "Deep."

"You may leave me," Unvar said. "Go and join these in your quest against the Balrog. I will have none of it."

He looked over at the others, and then, with a nod to Mal, he walked back towards his men, quickly ordering them to make camp for the night. The sky quickly darkened into blackness.

*Please don't make morning come in your next post, I have something to happen this night.*

*Don't worry, I have some things to take care off myself in the night...*
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As the groups seperated after the near fight, they noticed the disappearance of the grey cloaked figure, who had apparently only stayed around long enough to insure that a fight did not occur.

As darkness came down, Mal drifted away from the rest, finally stopping many yards from the others, under a small copse off trees near the river. Sitting with his back to the tree, he sat, waiting, until he felt a steel blade rest across his throat.

"Did you save me only so you could have the priviledge of killing me yourself?" asked Mal, not even moving from his position of rest.

A cold, harsh voice floated through the air back to him, "I never though to see you again upon this land."

"It has been long, hasn't it?"

"I recognized the elf lady with you as well, though I do not think she knew me."

"You should be glad she didn't, I would think."

The voice behind Mal grew bitter, very bitter, as it laughed, "Ha! Would that she knew me for what I was, and could release me from my misery."

Turning his head to look up at the gray-bearded, grizzled face above, Mal asked, "Are you so eager for death, then?"

The blade at his throat fell away, and the figure turned in the heavy moonlight, stepping away, his back to Mal. "There is nothing I desire more."

Mal gave a sigh, nodding to himself. "I have learned that Sauron has stepped into his Master's shoes here in Middle Earth." He spoke calmly, not responding as the figure in front of him seemed to convulse, dropping its blade and clutching its head. Though Mal was behind him, he knew that the man would be struggling to not scream into the air his rage and anger. Mal gave another sigh.

"You've saved my life twice now, Sandor. You can return to your solitude - the debt between us is done."

The figure turned around, a wild and feral look in his eyes, and said, "Not Sandor. I am Harnauro now."

"And is there nothing left of the Sandor I knew?"

Another laugh, and the response, "Enough to repay old debts, at least."

Mal remained in shadow, his features unreadable as he said, "Your debt to me is paid, then."

The glint of teeth in the moonlight grew brigher as Harnauro grinned. "So eager to be rid of me? No, my debt is not done. I hardly saved your life against the Numenorean. If anything, I made it worst."

"You truly have changed. I always used to be the impetuous one."

"When one cares for nothing, caution seems a waste of time."

Mal sighed again, once more leaning against the tree, and staring out across the plains. "So, then, have you made these woods your home?"

"One of them, at least. The ents leave me be, when they notice my passing. Which is rare, even for them."

"Your voice sounds hoarse, my friend."

"I have rarely spoken in centuries. I am surprised I can still speak. Look! Lo and behold, a wonder - an animal that speaks the tongue of man!"

Mal's rebuke was sharp, crackling, "You are NOT merely a beast."

Muffled laughter, almost sobs, eachoed back at him. "No. I am something much worse."

Mal moved to cross his arms over his chest, then remembered, and sighed. He remained silent, letting the darkness grow greater. A few clouds passed overhead, dimming the moonlight.

"I watched the Fallen one when it attacked the ents. You are going after it, aren't you, Mal?"

"Aye. Do you know aught of what it took?"

"Treasure, as always, drives you, I see. Nay, I knew something was buried there, but I had no concern for it."

"It is called the Book of Secrets, I learned."

Harnauro's voice took on a mocking tone. "What? Could the great and mighty Malagar be jealous? Does something threaten your power?"

"I don't know. I don't like not knowing."

"Ahhh... so that is why you pursue this Fallen."

"And you, I suppose, are now planning to accompany me?" Mal turned, tilting his head towards Harnauro.

"As I said, I still have a debt to repay. And perhaps the Fallen is on an errand for Sauron..."

"It was always treasure for me, but vengeance was always first in your mind, wasn't it, Sandor?"

"I am Harnauro!" The cry hurtled back towards Mal, and his companions face grew furious, teeth bared in a grotesque fashion.

"So be it.. Harnauro."

Harnauro turned away, his words drifting on the wind towards Mal as he walked off towards a place where the river narrowed. "I will scout ahead of your party's path. I will rejoin you tommorrow, on your march. You can introduce me then." As the last words reached Mal, his friend was already no more than a speck in the darkness.

"I don't think you will fit in well, Sandor." Mal's voice was quiet and soft, and only his own ears heard it. Mal closed his eyes, sighing at memories, than began walking back towards camp.

Meanwhile, across the river, if any were watching beneath the heavy moonlight, a wolf could be seen bounding across the plains, stealth and death given form.

*Lief I was calling the grey man "friend," not you*

Faradin watched the conversation between Mal and a grey form that he could not make out from a distance too far to hear the words that were said. He did not wish for Mal to discover, and while he did not trust the strange man, spying on his allies was not why he was out this night.

Turning away from the conversation he headed out into the plains of Rohan towards a spot he knew from his last journey here. He had left something buried in this land that he had hoped he need never wield again, but this monster they fought would be a dangerous foe, and he did not completely trust all of his companions. Reaching the spot he remembered too well, but wished with all his heart he could forget, he began to dig with his sword. Soon he heard a soft thunk as the blade hit wood. He continued digging and then pulled up the lid on a wooden box. He looked upon the bones that shone softly in the moonlight and then with a sigh picked up the object that the skeletal hands held. "I wished that you might lie in peace, Lady of the Horseman, Love of my life, but I must disturb your rest, and take from you what I placed in your safekeeping. May you and the Valar forgive me if this unleases a greater evil upon the world than that which I struggle to defeat."

Putting the object into his cloak he hurried quickly and silently back to the camp and into his tent.

The moonlight shown in flickering patches, as it a dark cloud crossed over the bright orb. Long shadows of complete darkness filled the camp, the flickering moonlight coming eerily in the blackness.

The two sentries who guarded Unvar's tent were seated in the shadows.

One of them scratched his neck. "Something's wrong tonight. I can feel it in my bones."

"You probably just got the shivers," his companion remarked. "But I agree with you, this night's as spooky a one as ever there was."

The guard looked at him in surprise. "You've helped in the taking of ships before, what's this I hear about spooks?"

"Nothing more ridiculous than what you just said," his companion said defensively. "About your old cranky bones."

The other didn't bother with fending off that remark, and the pair fell back into their uneasy silence. They never came close to sleep, as the penalty for that crime on sentry duty was severe, especially when they were guarding their lord's tent.

However, someone else had plans that they would sleep that night. And all the nights afterwards.

The dark, cloaked shape didn't bother with cleaning its dagger, and proceeded to open the tent flap and step into the inside darkness.

Even though the person's eyes were adjusted to the dark, the blackness of the inside of the tent was so complete that for a moment, the person stopped. But it wouldn't do for someone to see him. He entered, and stumbled briefly as he bumped into a table. Two of Unvar's maps fell to the floor, and the man froze, holding his breath.





Unvar's eyes flicked open, and he looked quickly around. But the blackness was absolute, and nothing was visible. Something had disturbed him, and it felt as if something was not right. Another of his hunches, but was he just imagining things?

A slight breeze of cool air touched his face, and he raised his hands, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. It took him a few seconds to realize, and then it struck him. The breeze! Through the darkness, he could see the tent flap, partially open, the cords unfastened. And against the vague light outside, he could just see something else, an arm, was it?

The thing suddenly moved to the side, blending with the rest of the darkness of the tent. Silently, Unvar climbed out of bed, shivering slightly with the cold against his bare chest. Quietly, he crawled to the side, and reached out, gently easing his belt off a chair, and with it his dagger.

He just barely heard a slight movement, the vague rustling of a silent footstep.

Suddenly, he heard a ruff tearing noise from behind him. Instantly, Unvar rose from the floor, drawing the dagger and leaping for the bed in one quick movement. The assassin ducked to the side, snatching his knife out of the matress as he did.

But this extra movement cost him dear, and Unvar's body smashed into his, throwing both of them to the floor. Unvar gave a cry and stabbed. He was rewarded by a scream from his assailant.

But the victory was short lived, as a moment later he felt a sharp pain to his side, and knew that his enemy had just struck back. He seized his opponent's arm with his left hand, holding it at bay as he slashed viciously with his dagger. Twice he stabbed, and then the arm he held went limp, and he drew his weapon out of the body.

The tent flap whipped open and he saw the vague shapes of two of his soldiers rush in. An instant later, there was the flare of a lantern, and he saw four of his corsair guards and a captain.

Then, he looked down at the scene.

"Kvdon," he said with surprise as he saw the identity of the would be assassin.

Unvar's first stab had taken him in the thigh, and his next two blows had finished him, both piercing his side.

"Who is it?" asked the captain.

"One of a corsair lord's lieutenants. He, along with all of the others were left back at Harad."

"Treachery!" the captain said, his tone easily expressing his surprise.

"A traitor who traveled and stalked me for many miles, and over seas," Unvar said. "I never did anything to madden him against me, unless he was still sore at me for conquering his lord in the first place. He must have not been alone in his treachery."

Unvar suddenly realized he was still holding his dagger, and dropped it, wiping his bloody hand on his pants.

"My lord, you're wounded."

"It isn't deep, I've felt much worse," Unvar said.

"What are we to do about this?" the captain asked.

Unvar thought for a moment, and then looked at his captain. "Take the body and go, all of you. And get me Malagar, Nardran and Agravigan."

Mal had returned to the others, and was settlign down, preparing to get some rest that even he needed, when he heard the approach of the corsair's soldiers.

When they arrived, saying only that Unvar called him, he gave a deep sigh, mouthed a silent curse to fate, and went with them. Upon arriving in Unvar's tent, and seeing Nardran and Agravigan already there, talking with the lord, Mal got a bit more serious, especially seeing the obvious signs of a struggle in the room.

He only spoke two words, as Unvar looked up at his presence. "What happened?"

Faradin paced restless in his tent and then, not able to rest, he left it and headed to Dania and Narsh's; of all his companions these were the two he understood and felt he could trust the most.

Calling out he was invited into their tent. "I need to speak to you. I went out into the plains tonight to, think," he said hestitating on the word, "and I felt eyes watching me. I have felt this twice before, both while in Fangorn. Once before we first joined the Corsair; the other while searching for plants to help with your wound. I believe someone or something is watching us. I don't know who it is, but I believe we must discover who."

Unvar looked up at Mal's arrival and motioned him to come inside.

"What happened?" Mal asked as he entered.

"I'm going to need a new matress," Unvar replied, motioning to the slashed one.

"Lord Unvar faced an assassination attempt a few minutes ago," Agravigan said.

"The assassin was a fellow corsair, but it was one that I left in Umbar," Unvar said. "I looked into the palantir, to find out what was happening with my subjects at home. I found my tower had been pulled down, and saw none of the troops I'd left to guard anywhere. After searching nearer to home, I looked at the Castle Iron Heart, to which we are going. And there, I saw a large corsair army, three times as large as the one I currently possess. My subjects have betrayed me, and come out after my hide, so that there will be no revolution to their control, and no one will resist, as their true leader is dead."

"Are we going to go back to Umbar because of this?" Agravigan asked.

"No," Unvar said. "Because, if I survived their assassination attempt, that is where they'd assume I'd go. But no, I'm coming after their leader, who is with their army. They have allied with the forces of the Balrog, at Iron Heart."

He turned to Nardran and Mal. "Which is why I summoned you two. I wanted you to both know my decision, and that I have reconsidered both of your point of views. I will join with you both to take down the Balrog, if you will also help me in the destruction of these traitors."

Mal bowed low, saying, "Well can I understand the desire to seek vengeance upon those who betray you. If these men have allied with the dark one, it is sure to make the assault upon it more difficult, but I believe it can be done, nonetheless. Your aid, now more than ever, shall be needed."

Rising back up, he took a step back, passing his hand over his face in weariness, and said, "This night has been a long one, and I have rested little in the nights before. If I may take my leave, I will inform the others of your decision in the morning."

Unvar nodded, turning back to consult with his men as Mal headed back to rest in the time still left before daylight.

Morning light broke over the camp, and Unvar woke from his sleep. The discussion last night with Nardran and Agravigan had gone well. Agravigan had set out several hours before on a fast horse, to get a head start and scout out the enemy positions. It was Unvar's opinion that he Nardran was well pleased that the assassination attempt had taken place. He now seemed more energetic then usual as he helped to waken the drowsy corsairs.

Unvar pulled away a blanket and got up, picking up his shirt, and putting on the chain mail armor. He had gotten used to almost constantly wearing it underneath his clothing, and it had protected his life more than once.

Quickly he finished dressing and went outside. The troops were already gathering, and the tents being taken down. They were almost ready to go.

Malagar, despite his desperate need for sleep the night before, found himself waking earlier than the others, yet still totally refreshed.

Laying on the ground, staring into the sky, tinted red, but still mostly dark, he simply sat and thought for a while. About companions, both new and old.

As he thought over the upcoming events, he gave a silent groan, and rose from the ground. For a while he simply wandered about the camp, observing the others, until they too awoke and rose up. Soon, all were ready, and they met with the corsairs to move on.

As they set out, Mal mentioned, "I have a friend who shall be joining us later today, by the name of Harnauro."

Unvar's eyes narrowed as the corsair lord walked beside him, saying, "And from where comes this friend of yours?"

"He has lived in Fangorn of late. When he noticed me passing through, he followed. You saw him, briefly, during our little... misunderstanding."

Recalling that this person had aimed a bow directly at his chest, Unvar was not greatly relieved. "Can he be trusted?"

"More than any. But I will not speak more of him until later in the day, when he shall return to us. He is spending this morning scouting ahead, to make sure our path is open and clear of enemies."

Unvar nodded, and walked on, making a note to remain wary of this newcomer. Already, there were far too many straneg companions in this alliance.

Marondras lowered his hands, sweat covering his face. All about him and the mountain was the smell of ash and sulfur, and heat radiated from the place.

Marondras finally sent the last energy into the pit, and then crumpled to the ground beside it, sweat streaking his face, and his eyes wild.

The explosion that followed rocked the mountain, sending tremors through the ground for miles in every direction. Rocks clattered to the earth, and a blackness filled the sky around the mountains, darkening the land.

A strange red light flared up, and glowed from the mountain.





Unvar and his army came to an abrupt halt as the ground shook, and blackness pierced the sky, darkening it and eating up the sun's rays. The darkness covered the territory around Iron Heart for twenty miles in every direction, and a red glare came from its center.

Nardran's face was white, and a look of horror filled it. He trembled briefly. It was done, after all. He had hoped that they would get there in time to stop it, but it was too late.





The Balrog sensed the completion of the Blasting Delve, and turned towards it, a wide smile filling his horrible face.

Mal stubled across the ground at the explosion, staring in the direction of the castle. Spinning around, he made sure all were unharmed.

"Does anyone know what that was??" he cried out, never liking confronting something he knew nothing of.

The Balrog opened the Book of Secrets. A wave of light shot out, blinding him briefly. But he peered forwards through it, looking at the words.

"The Blasting Delve," Nardran whispered as he stared off in the direction of the mountain.

Suddenly, he came alive, energy given by fear. "Come on! We must get there before he has finished!"

"Who? Finished with what?" Agravigan asked.

"The Blasting Delve, you fool!" Nardran shouted. "He's finished it! This, and the Book of Secrets! Don't you understand?"

Syntia and Mal realized at the same moment. "A Blasting Delve," Syntia whispered.

"And they have the Book of Secrets! They know how to build them!"

"What's a Blasting Delve?" Agravigan asked.

"There was only one in existance," Syntia said. "And that is the Crack of Doom, in Mordor. They can be used to build the Rings of Power, or almost any of the other magical objects of the past!"

"And he won't waste any time," Mal said. "Especially not if Marondras is with him."

Unvar beckoned to them. "All right, come, let's go!"

Suden resolve apear on Syntia's face. In a quick ,graceful move she remove her cloak and everyone present could see her delicate armor and magnificent sword. As a true lord of her people she commanded respect from everyone present.

-I'm going ahead and try to held them for as long as i can. She turn to loo at all of them. Please be quick.

Mal try to held her and say.
-If you do it alone you'll be kill.

-I know... was the only answer he got before she vanish.

Arvec saw the flame and red glow from the mountain, and a horrible feeling filled the pit of his stomach. What had he gotten himself into?

Quickly, he put on a shining breastplate and helmet. Then, he hurried up to the wall.