Fangorn Forest

Harnauro bounded down a corridor, claws slamming into the back of the corsair fleeing away, and tearing through the armor time and again, rending the flesh beneath until the form beneath it was no longer recognizable as having once been a man.

Turning, the wolf began to wind its way back to the battle, having gone far in its pursiut of the fleeing one. Before it found the fight again, however, it began to shudder, and convulse, and in moments, Harnauro stodd up, eyes closed in pain, blood and remains scattered about his gray cloak. Looking back down the corridor, he sees the still corpse, and hopes it was one of the enemy, and not of Unvar's. A deep growl rumbles from his throat, and he walks back down the corridor, soon finding the room the battle had been at.

Enetering in it, he was assailed by the heat and smell of dying and burning bodies. Could he have - no, this was the work of another. Almost breathing a sigh of relief, he looked throughout the room. The elves and ranger were gone, and must have gone off while the corsairs battled each other. He began to leave the room, when he saw a form twitch across the room. Hurrying across, he easily lifted the large form of the corsair lord from the ground.

After Unvar was left propped against a wall, the corsair blinked his eyes, returning to consciousness to see Harnauro looking for any other survivors among the bodies.

"Are any..." Unvar trailed off.

Harnauro turned about, shaking his head. "Unless they fled, all here are dead. One of the Fallen One's servants?"

"Nay, the Balrog itself."

Harnauro nodded to himself, for that would easily explain the destruction. "Then let us find others still fighting against its forces." He walked away, and Unvar managed to summon strength and hurry after him, though pain flooded his body with every step.

"Block the gates!" Agravigan shouted as soon as he realized that corsair reinforcments were coming through.

Quickly, he raised his sword and led his men through the enemy, in a desperate charge for the gates. Finally, they broke through and got there. Seizing the sturdy door, Agravigan heaved it shut, just as two other men slammed the other. They swiftly grabbed the plank of wood and heaved it into the slots, bolting it tight.

Next moment, he was pinned against the gate with his men, facing a desperate counter-attack.

If we don't get those doors open, we'll be destroyed! Arvec drew his sword and led his men towards the enemy. Soon, he found himself fighting with a strong corsair, who appeared to be their leader. If he was killed, the resistance here would probably fall apart.

Swinging his weapon, he slashed down one of the slaves and stepped over the body. Next he moved on Agravigan, sword slashing.

Agravigan quickly parried the blow and sent in one of his own. Arvec blocked and swung in a downward curve, only to be blocked again. Arvec was quickly pressed back by a fury of sword blows from his opponent. He was unused to the corsair style of fighting, but he caught on quickly, and soon was able to press the attack against his enemy.

Agravigan stumbled over the body of the slave, and his defense slipped. Instantly, Arvec stabbed through the opening. But the stumble was a fake, as Arvec soon found out.

Agravigan pulled his bloody sword from his opponent's chest, and knocked the body to the ground with his hilt.

A moment later, he saw Slythre coming out of the crowd of fighters, wiping a bloody sword. "It's all over, here."

"In that case it's time we dealt with the corsairs."

The hunter sniffed the air briefly. The smell of burnt stone and flesh filled his nostrils, and he wrinkled his nose. But he was indeed on the right track. The burnmarks on the walls and ground further confirmed it.

His sword was loose in his hand, and Nardran proceeded quietly after the creature. But he knew the castle well, just as his former master did. But his master was in a mad fury, and Nardran could guess where he was going. Quickly, he moved through a side passage, opening a door and stepping out into another hall. The scent was stronger now, and a grim smile filled Nardran's face.

He knew he was walking up to his own death, but he would take it with him.

He took a powerful bow from his back, and with a massive exertion of strength, bent and strung it. Then, taking a long and razor sharp arrow from a quiver, he held it gently in one hand as he sheathed his sword. Then, he opened the pouch that on his belt, and dipped the barbed point of his arrow into the pale green goo which was inside it. Then, careful not to touch the tip, he put the weapon aside and poisoned another arrow as well. Then, he put one to the bow string and crept after his terrible quarry.

The corsairs at the gate were unprepared for the furious force that smashed into their ranks. The slaves slaughtered the front rank without any losses, and ripped apart the second as well. But swiftly the corsairs recovered from their surprise and began to fight back, forcing the slaves back into the gate.

Suddenly, a hail of arrows cut down into their ranks from the walls. The deadly barbs thinned the corsair ranks greatly, dropping dozens to the ground.

"Force your way through the gate!" shouted one of their captains. "Hurry, or those arrows will finish us before we even have a chance to fight back!"

The Balrog exploded into the next cavern, decimating the enemy around him with ease. The slave force that was collecting weapons in the armory was killed to the last man.

The Balrog left the room in melted tatters as he prowled up higher, soon reaching the mountain's peak. Looking down, he saw the enemy had taken the walls, and his allies were struggling to break through.

The cold up here affected his fire, and the Balrog searched into his inner strength, replenishing it until it was as strong as ever.

But his enemies were hunting him. He saw Harnauro come out onto the tower edge as well, followed by Agravigan and Unvar. Hadn't he killed the man?

Agravigan whispered something in Harnauro's ear, and the man nodded.

Swiftly ducking behind a boulder, the Balrog surveyed the terrain in which he'd be fighting. The tower stretched up for several dozen feet more, and around it was the catwalk. On one side of the catwalk was a large open space, in which several large boulders were lodged. Behind one of these, he was hidden. This fight would be hard, and the weather was against the Balrog. But he was confident that he could overcome all three. The two corsairs would be easy. Their companion would be a little bit more of a challenge, but after a quick magical probing, the Balrog saw that Harnauro wasn't any match for him either. They might have had a remote chance if they'd caught him by surprise, but they had certainly not done that.

He ducked low behind the boulder, preparing to spring.




Nardran reached the tower's top, and looked down upon the ground below, and the narrow rock walkway around the tower. Behind the boulder, on the open ground, he saw his quarry.

He crouched behind the wall and put his arrow to the string.

Just then, the Balrog sprang. Fire exploded outwards as the creature lunged, moving with incredible speed that was barely matched by the wolf that suddenly intercepted it, slashing a wound in its side before passing. The wolf scrambled to a stop at the cliff edge, twisted, and leapt again, fangs ripping.

In an instant, it was caught by the throat by a flaming hand, and the great sword of the Balrog swung . . .

. . . only to be blocked by Agravigan's sword, throwing a shower of sparks and throwing the corsair back. Unvar's black blade stabbed deep into the Balrog's flesh an instant later, and then with a swift second, sliced another deep wound.

The Balrog's fire gushed forth, flaring from it's mane. The fire forced Agravigan and Unvar back, both scorched.

The wolf suddenly slipped out of the Balrog's fist and whipped away, slicing another wound in his leg as it went.

They'd been prepared for his attack; that was the only explanation. But the wounds were not serious, and the Balrog was far from defeated. His fire roared to life, and the Balrog leapt forward, claws flashing.

Unvar and Harnauro both took it, each from a different side, with Agravigan in the center of their three prong formation.

Suddenly, there was a sharp and peircing pain, lancing through the Balrog's body. He looked down in disbelief at the arrow that quivered in his chest. Snarling, he ripped it out and looked around for the archer.

"How can you believe that an arrow will stop me!" he roared. "Fools, you grow more desperate by the moment!"

But even as he spoke, a sudden pain seared through him, and it felt like his heart had turned to ice. Desperately, he used his magic and put a stop to the growing coldness. But in the next second, another arrow peirced him, stabbing into his shoulder and freezing his blood.

His enemies moved in, each now wearing a smile on his face.

The Balrog clutched at himself as his insides seemed to freeze. Then, he lunged to fight his attackers, summoning the fire to consume them.

But the fire would not come. The cold continued to seep through him, and the flame was becoming more and more difficult to reach by the second. Without it to help him, he felt helpless.

He struggled down, into his deepest self, digging up the flames with all of his strength and magic. The effort filled him with pain as he fought against the hardening and strengthening cold.

The fire came, and he lunged. Caught by surprise, his two enemies fell back, forced onto the catwalk. The Balrog's flame flashed out, and the Balrog went with it, smashing into the edge of the catwalk and ripping out its seams. Then, a hole exploded in the catwalk and the ice and rock melted, leaving a great opening where once solid rock had been.

Then, a third arrow struck the Balrog, and the cold seemed unbareable. All of his fire, and much of his strength with it were unreachable. Leaping for the door, the Balrog smashed through it. Then, he dashed up the stairs towards his tormenter.

Nardran put down the arrows and quiver, then he laid the bow beside them. He took off his cloak, and drew his sword, dipping it in the green poison as well, from tip to hilt. Then, he raised it, and looked out calmly towards the trapdoor. The time was come.

The trapdoor exploded into splinters, and the great black creature was up, red eyes wild with fury and pain.

"Now you will be brought back to the Hell from which you first arose," Nardran said, a raging fire in his one eye.

Then he swung his sword, moving with incredible speed and with the all the wrath that was pent up within him. His strokes were with nearly superhuman strength, and he fought the Balrog, blow for blow. The Balrog's whip curled out, but Nardran ducked both it and he great sword, lunging up within the creature's defenses and ripping into it's hide.

Pain filled the Balrog, and more of the accursed icy cold froze his joints, making him stumble. With the proper time, he'd be able to combat it, and regain his strength. But this wasn't the place. Now he knew. If he fought Nardran now, he would die. Even if he killed the elf, the poison would kill him soon after. His only chance was to get down to his lair. He began to fight his way back towards the trapdoor, trying to get inside.

Nardran saw what he was doing and danced around him, sword keeping the Balrog from moving too much in any direction. In an instant, he was between the Balrog and the trapdoor.

Now, Nardran's skillful sword thrusts were swiftly beginning to outclass the wounded Balrog's clumsy movements. The Balrog began to feel death creeping through his veins, and a look of triumph filled Nardran's face.

Then, anger filled the Balrog, and he summoned his last strength. He was a Maiar, and had lived since the world began. Now, he drew from all his past experience, all of his last strength. With this, he lunged at the elf, ignoring his sword and letting it drop. His arms widened, and his fire returned, for one brief instant. The creature's arms folded around Nardran, and the elf's sword peirced its heart. Then, the beast's momentum carried it through the wall, pulvurizing the stone and sending it flying away in melting fragments.

The two hurtled out into the air in a death embrace, gradually dwindling in view until they hit the ground, far below.

Unvar, Agravigan and Harnauro quickly hurried up the ladder and looked down over the edge of the tower.

Agravigan squinted down, wondering whether he was seeing correctly.

"What is it?" Unvar asked.

"It's Nardran, sir. He . . . He is smiling."

"Then he died happy. A warrior's death, and a vengeance achieved."

Agravigan nodded and lingered for a moment longer before following the other two out of the tower.

Harnauro limped back inside, following the corsairs, relishing in the pain. He felt so alive! It had been centuries since he had been hurt... mortal blades and weapons usually slid off of him without harm, and the last time he remembered injury had been a face off against an elf wielding a glowing sword.

He followed the others inside, and they soon met up with the rest of the corsairs forces, and the newly appointed leaders of the ex-slaves.

Unvar approached them, and learned that, after the death of the enemy commanders, and the demoralizing defeat of the Balrog, the enemy had either fled, died, or surrendered.

"It looks like," Harnauro said dryly, "We have succeeded quite well."

He glanced up as Slythre approached then, a worried look on her face. Unvar scowled at her, and then turned and barked orders to his men to begin taking note of casualties.

Turning back, he said, "Aye, and if I discover that more traitors await me in Umbar, I know have a force and fortress with which to plan my vengeance!"

Slythre spoke up, hesitantly. "Before you plan ahead so far, I have one wonder... where is Mal, and what happened to the elves and the ranger?"

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*I am actually wondering that meself! Well, obviously not about Mal, but about everyone else... things seemed to have gone quite fast, and I haven't seen Elbreth in a while...
Course, maybe this could turn into a way to continue the adventure a bit longer!*
-Mathron

* Sure, sounds like fun. Dania got captured somewhere along the way. I just got back from a Youth Retreat at the Bible college, so I've had tons to read up on here. Thank you so much for keeping it going. I believe Dania was last seen just outside Iron Heart, just before the main attack was launched.
Would someone be so kind as to write up somewhere which characters are which? They are beginning to get confusing, and again I warn you about adding more characters, there are getting to be a bit too many. *

"My lord," said one a corsair as him and several other men brought in a stretcher, with the broken body of a terribly wounded woman on it. "The ranger Faradin helped us to find her, and so we brought her back."

"Very well," Unvar said as he looked down at the body. "She is alive?"

"Yes, my lord. Though I know not by what power that is so. One with such wounds as these would normally have been killed in the first instant."

"If she is yet alive, then it is likely that she survive. Someone find Malagar, for I think it is indeed possible that he find some way to take care of this."

Then, Unvar turned and moved away, Agravigan at his side. He didn't go far, and soon stopped in a darkened hallway. There, he drew out the palantir and set it on the floor before him, looking into its depths and staring out, towards Umbar. Agravigan quickly realized what he was doing, and stood beside him, watching as a frown formed on Unvar's face.

Unvar rose in silence, and Agravigan followed without asking what he'd seen. He would learn of that in time.

Mal stalked down the corridors, anger filling his features. Turning a corner, he encountered a full unit of Unvar's still loyal corsairs, who raised weapons and called for him to halt.

He ignored them, continuing down the hallway, only stopping when a spear was leveled at his chest. Turning, scowling, he seemed to finally notice them, and barked out, "Take me to Unvar!"

The hardened corsairs step back, unnerved by his tone, but after a few glances amongst themselves, bring him to their lord.

As Mal approaches Unvar, he slows, seeing the crumpled form of Syntia being tended. Unvar turned towards Mal, then froze, seeing him whole. "What happened to your arm?"

Mal responded curtly, "It got better."

Unvar wondered, a bit suspicious, but had other concerns at the moment. "Syntia was discovered like this, and we do not know if she will live. As well, though my men are still searching out the fortress, we have yet to find the elves or the ranger."

"You won't find them."

Unvar cocked his head. What did Mal know that he didn't?

Mal said, still staring at Syntia's form, asked, "Do you remember the foes we faced right outside of the woods?" At Unvar's nod, he went on, "I encountered a number of them while here."

"Where are they now?"

"Dead. But I found some more of them, dead, and signs of a struggle - where I had last seen Dania and the others. I fear they were taken somewhere."

Unvar scowled. Who were these mysterious figures?
Shaking his head, he asked, "What of her? Can you help her?"

"No. But I can take her to those who can. Not right now, but later ... I need to prepare. Are there any rooms in this place where I can find solitude?"

"Certainly. Follow me. Guards, bring Syntia."

He led Mal through the burnt out tunnels, and past the bodies of the dead slaves and corsairs. Soon, he entered a room, one that used to be Arvec's, and motioned his men to lay Syntia on the bed.

"She is in your hands," he said.

Then, he walked off with Agravigan. As soon as they were outside of earshot, Agravigan spoke.

"My lord, do you intend to help against these creatures?"

"No, it is none of our concern," he said with a frown. "And now there is neither an annoying elf captain nor an assassin to change my mind."

"Then what do you intend to do?"

"My concern is with Umbar, but I have my hands tied! You and Malagar want me to go off questing again, this time to rescue Dania and Narsh from enemies that could defeat those who slaughtered many of my men out at the plain. I have an army, a small one, but it is in existance."

"So we will return to Umbar."

"Not immediately." He sighed. "I looked into the palantir, recently, as you know. I saw Umbar, and I saw the towers. They have not only corsairs, but now many of the towers have, beside their black flag, the one bearing the red eye of Mordor! They have orcs in their kingdom! I lack ships, and I lack men. Those who I left behind, that were loyal to me are surely all either dead or prisoner. This new goal would surely lose me at least as many men as I lost here, and now especially, I cannot afford that!"

Agravigan nodded wearily. His commander's logic was irrefutable.

"They have one Maia at least with them, and I'm almost certain that Mal is one as well. Some of the rescued slaves will help them, and Slythre will surely journey with them as well. They have a good chance of success, and they will probably pick up other allies on the way."

"Yes. You're right. So where will we go, to await a good time to strike?"

"There are other men of our sort in this country, and with the proper questions in the proper places, I think we will be able to find them."

He looked at Agravigan closely. "You seem disappointed with my decision. Do you wish to join these others as well? If you do, I will understand."

"Perhaps a little, my lord," Agravigan confessed. "But I will continue with you. Now is the time for the paths to break."

"Very well," Unvar agreed. "I will go and inform the Maiar of my decision. Inform the troops that they may rest for what is left of the day. We will leave tomorrow morning."

Faradin stumbled throught he corridor clutching at the wound in his side. Though the pain was great he kept himself going, for he must tell someone what had happened. Suddenly he came into a room that held a familiar form, Mal.

Stumbling forward he grasped at Mal's arm, "they took Narsh and Dania, we must follow them." Feeling weakness begin to overwhelm him he slumped to the ground; the last thing he remembered thinking before falling unconscious was that somehow Mal was no longer missing his arm.

Mal sat upon the small bed in the dim room, beginning to marshal his strength. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, focusing inward, upon the power so recently returned to him.

A harsh noise echoed down the hallway, and suddenly Faradin staggered into the room, the door flying open. Mal's eyes shot open, and he stared, almost curiously, as the ranger breathed out his message and dropped to the ground.

For a moment, Mal was out of sync with what just happened - then he shook his head, and rose from the bed to inspect Faradin's body.

His body was covered in nicks and scratches, but what drew Mal's attention was a gaping hole in his left side, where a sword had apparently thurst in, just missing his heart. Mal shuddered, realizing how close Faradin was to death, surely why the 'watchers' hadn't finished him off. In truth, Faradin would be dead by the next morning, unless something was done...

With a sigh, Mal brought the body to lie at the back of the bed, alongside Syntia's crumpled form. Taking two would be harder, but there was no other way to save the ranger. And though Mal knew the ranger hadn't trusted him at the start, Mal also knew what a sacrifice the ranger had made by giving up the treasure that had Mal's power in it; for when Mal had placed it back upon himself, it had not just given him his power back, but he had caught snatches of memories from those who had carried it over the years.

Shaking his head to clear his mind again, he walked over to the door. No more interruptions was what he needed. He began to seal the doorway with shadow magic, then frowned at himself. Conservation and subtlety, those where codex he had once lived by. He brought out some tools from within his cloak, and sealed the door by more traditional means.

Returning to his place upon the bed, he once more fell into a trancelike state, searching for his inner strength. His eyes closed, his body tensed, and then relaxed. The light in the room - coming from a few lit candles - dimmed to a dull light.

Mal's eyes flickered, and the candles flickered, the light dancing about, shadows curling all about the walls. One deep breath, and then he let it out, slowly. The candles winked out, and the room was cloaked in darkness.

::In the beginning, all was darkness. All darkness was one.::
The thought flittered through the void that was now Mal's mind, all other thoughts cleared from it.
: ne shadow and another are but one.::
Mal felt the energy begin to build about him, and kept it focused, kept it contained until released.
::All it takes is one.... short... step::

There was no flash, no cloud of smoke. But, in the space of one instant of time, Mal, Faradin, and Syntia were in the room at the castle - and, in the next, they were not.

When Unvar forced the door open and found the room empty, at first he felt surprise and anger. But a moment later, he shrugged the matter off. If Malagar wished to leave without any consultation with him, he was perfectly free to do so. He obviously had used his magic to do so. The door was locked from the inside, and there was no window.

He walked down to the room he'd claimed for himself, and prepared for sleep. He was very fatigued, after a long day's battle, and his wounds still ached. One of the Maia must have at least partially healed them, though, for otherwise he would not have been capable of fighting the Balrog at all.

He stretched out on the bed and pulled the blanket over him. All of the future difficulties with Umbar and Sauron would have to wait until tomorrow. Right now, he needed sleep.

A sharp light pierced Mal's closed eyelids. He slowly forced them open, pain piercing through him. By Eru, the pain! It had never been so bad before - but then, he had never traveled so far, nor with two others.

Forcing himself up, he noticed that he had been leaning against a stony wall. Turning about, he saw he was in a small rock alcove, and Faradin and Syntia were still lying behind him, unconscious.

He slowly walked out of the alcove, and his first notice was that he was on a mountain. The mountain. And then, he looked out upon the entire Isle. His breath caught in his throat, and the pain about him seemed to melt away.

He stood, entranced, at glimmering lands of green, clouds beneath him drifting over the land he looked down upon. Majestic sky alll around, and sparkling water at the horizon. Looking up, the mountain stretched even higher. Peace and warmth seemed to emanate from it down throughout the island. Mal arched his body up, basking in the calm and beauty radiating from all around him. How easy it would be to stay! How perfect life here was. His eyes closed, as he reveled in the temptation to stay.

A melodious voice shattered his peace - a beautiful voice, but spoken harshly. "Who disturbs the peace of Valinor?"

Mal turned, his calm fading, and he shook the temptation from his mind. His eyes found the figure who addressed him, an ancient elf, but still in the full of his life, with perfect features and two blue eyes blazing out at Mal.

As Mal turned, the elf's eyes widened in shock and recognition. "You! What do you here?" His eyes immediately leapt to the forms lying near Mal's feet, and his breath caught as he saw Syntia. "What harm have you inflicted upon such a noble soul, foul villain? If she is harmed, I warn you, you shall not escape punishment!"

Mal shook his head in despair. "Blind, you are blind, like all the rest! It was not I who harmed her, but a traitor long known to the Valar - one driven to more evils from their own 'punishment.' I brought her here for healing, fool, or why else would I have come."

The elf seems taken aback by Mal's words, and steps forward to the body, wariness in his face, but no longer outright distrust. "The disturbance felt a day ago - this was from that?"

"Aye."

The elf nodded, reassured, and bent down to lift up Syntia's fragile form. He froze in the midst of his task, however, as he made out the form of Faradin. He quickly stepped back, gaping in anger again. "You break the decree of the Valar, shadowmaster! What have you done? Mortal man is forbidden to come to this sacred realm!"

Mal laughed, bitterness in his voice. "The Valar themselves seem to be taking their own decrees lightly, of late. I only brought this man - a soul easily as noble as your own - for healing from his mortal wound. He shall remain unawakened, and once healed, I shall bring him with me back to Middle Earth, fear not, and he shall never know of his stay here, save in his dreams."

The elf continued to look upon Malagar with disgust, and then abruptly strode forward, looking over Faradin's form. "Step back, shadow weaver, and I shall tend him."

Mal did so, once more gazing off the mountain side and over the Blessed Land. A sigh almost escaped him, but he kept it within. He felt a warmth upon his back, and saw the elf leaning over Faradin, a glow emanating from his hands, and the ranger's injuries fading away.

Looking up, weariness in his visage, the elf spoke to Malagar. "Quickly now, begone from this place. I shall see to Syntia's recovery - pray the Valar do not judge you as harshly as they should, and shall send none after you for what you have done."

Mal's voice was nearly a whisper as he walked over to Faradin's now whole form. "They have no right to judge me - for good or ill, I am beyond them now."

Before the elf could respond, he grabbed up the ranger and strode back into the darkness of the cave, delving deeper into the shadow itself, his power enhanced by the realm behind him - the realm which, as he left, he did not let himself look back upon.

Exhaustion permeated his visage once more as he found himself once more in Castle Iron Heart, in the small bedroom Unvar had lent him. He noticed the door had been opened, but had no care for it. Laying Faradin carefully on the floor, he struggled to the bed and dropped into it, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Slythre wearily turned over in bed, her body still aching from the fatigues of the day before.

After a moment, she got up, moving her long hair out of her eyes.

She quickly dressed, and then strolled over to the window. Light filtered in through it, filling the room with the rays of morning. She'd slept late, not that that wasn't perfectly understandable. She looked out on the courtyard for a while. The traces of the previous day's battle were largely cleaned, and there were corsairs moving on the stone ground below.

She stood there in the sun's warmth for a moment longer before leaving the room. She walked quickly down the stairs and nearly ran into Agravigan, who had been just going up.

She took a step back in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't see you."

Agravigan looked uncomfortable, and just stood there, looking out of place, before speaking. "Uh, yes. Well I'm afraid I just forgot why I was going up at all."

He looked up at her for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "But there are things to say, between us. Yesterday, you were about to explain why you had left Unvar's command. I still would like to know."

She lowered her gaze. "I never meant to join the Balrog. I thought that I was allying with elves and men, who were on a noble enterprise. I can offer no excuse for my actions other than that I was decieved."

"I guess that, knowing you, that's probably the truth."

She broke into a relieved smile. It felt as though a part of her burden had been removed. "Thank-you, Agravigan."

"Well . . . Oh yes, I just remembered why I was going up here. I have to wake up those lazy men in the upper barraks. Perhaps I'll get Mal up while I'm up there. I haven't seen him downstairs at all, yet."

He patted her shoulder. "And you'd better get some breakfast, if you intend to have any at all."

He pushed past her and walked up the stairs, from room to room, awakening the troops. When he came to the wreckage of Mal's door, he stopped in concern. He walked in, and was puzzled to see Faradin and Mal both sleeping soundly, Faradin with his wounds miraculously recovered.

He shook Mal's shoulder, drawing him from sleep. "Wake up. What has happened here? Syntia's gone, and your door is in peices!"

Mal blinked repeatedly at Agravigan, trying to make some sense of his words. Slowly, he leaned up, and looked at his door. "So it is."

Looking back at Agravigan, he said, slowly, "I took Syntia to a place where she will be healed. I assume someone broke into my room while I was gone."

He stood up, unsteadily, still feeling as though the energy had been drained out of him by his activities of the night before. Yet, he felt his strength returning, and released how much having two of his sources of power returned had aided him. Taking a deep breath, he looked down to see Faradin lying asleep on the floor. Nodding to himself, he walked out of the door, past an astonished Agravigan, and sought out some food - though his energy was returning, the drain had still been great, and a ravenous hunger filled him.

Faradin awoke from dreams of peace and contentment to see Mal departing the room and a startled looking Agravigan standing nearby. "I was in a land of joy and peace," he mumbled, and then everything rushed back into his mind. Groping at his side he felt unmarked flesh where a gaping hole had been. "I should be dead, but somehow I am healed. How can that be?"

Getting to his feet he felt something familiar on his back. Turning slowly he smiled slightly at the Corsair who was staring at him. "So you were the one watching me." Turning he exited the room before the look of amazement had even fully formed on Agravigan's face.

Agravigan followed after the other two, and soon they arrived in the hall. Great tables had been put there, and many were eating. Soon they seated themselves, and although the food was far from nice, it was satisfying. Soon after their dinner, they gathered in the courtyard.

Unvar turned to Malagar. "So I assume that you are going to proceed in hunting down and rescuing Dania and Narsh?"

Mal nodded. "Among other things, yes."

He stretched out his hand and clasped Mal's. "May long life and fortune favor you."

Mal smiled slightly. "They already have," he said, but he shook Unvar's hand, and made the correct response.

"We are going a long way from here. Into the Blue Mountains, nearby the legendary Grey Havens. That is a place very out of the way, and if you desire our help, or somewhere to stay if you enter that region, you're more then welcome to visit us there."

Mal nodded. "Thank-you, I'll remember that."

Unvar ignored Faradin and Slythre, and mounted his horse. "Come, loyal followers of Umbar! Our journey begins!"

Mal ate ravenously, replenishing his depleted reserves of nourishment in his body. Eventually, though, he finished his meal, glancing with a small smile at where Faradin and Slythre were staring in astonishment at where the piles of food he had put down had been.

The smile faded as he thought of where he must go next. These strange 'watchers' obviously knew something he did not... try as he might, he could not puzzle out their connection to him.

He had spoken with Harnauro earlier, on his way down to breakfast, and his old comrade had said he had not heard of anything of their kind, and was just as puzzled. Harnauro had been hesitant, but had agreed to accompany him, though not openly, for reasons of his own. Mal hadn't questioned, simply thanked him and continued toward the dining hall.

Giving a sigh, he turned to Slythre and Faradin. "We have defeated a tremendous foe here. Yet, another foe apparently still exists. I plan to go after him, and find out why he sends these warriors after us, continuously - and what has become of Dania and Narsh. You are welcome to come along, or go your own ways. I will leave this evening, at the front gate of the castle. If you wish to accompany me, meet me then, there."

*I believe that your last post should be before the one I just sent, but I suppose it doesn't matter overly much.*

Darkness settled gently across the sky, and as it did, two dark clad figures joined Mal at the gate.

"I am glad you're coming," Mal said as he looked up at the sky.

"We'd best be going," Slythre's voice came from beneath the hood of her traveling cloak. "The enemy have enough of a start on us already. Although one adventure is over, another is just beginning."

The three dark clad figures left the stone castle Iron Heart, and slipped away into the gathering gloom.