Fangorn Forest

*Ok guys, here we are. Join is as you wish, lets make ourselves a story. If someone wants the character of Dania's travelling companion (Narsh), go for it. I'll explain more in the discussion thread.*

The Elven archer sat atop a great stone, Fangorn stretched out behind her. Her feet dangled over the edge of a precipice, below which gurgled a clear river.
"Dania," she heard a deep, rumbling voice behind her. "They are calling the Entmoot now, we should join them."
Dania sighed, "I know Narsh, I'm coming." Slidding herself down from the rock, she straightened the longbow across her back, and followed Narsh to the clearing where some of the Ents had already begun to gather.

Woohoo! I'm ready to go. My character is named Malagar, I'll have more information about him in later posts...
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Somewhere in the midst of Fangorn, under the murly skies of twilight and under the shadows of the great trees, a figure stepped out of the darkness. It stopped, took a pause, and straightened up, looking about. Had anyone been there to watch, they would have seen a figure, covered in black, with a large widebrimmed hat, a man no more than a silhouete in the dusk. Had anyone been there to listen, they would have heard the whispered words, "Well, that was lucky... no side effects-". Had anyone been there, they would have seen the form stiffen, drop to the ground and convulse for a short while, with muffled curses drifting on the wind. After a while, the figure stopped shuddering, and got back up, muttering something about "delayed reactions", and then, with another glance around, retreating into the muffled shadows of the wood, vanishing from the sight of anyone watching.
But only the trees saw and heard him. Of course, in this place, that was enough...

"You lie!" Unvar grabbed the scruff of the man's shirt and
drew him forwards.

"No! Honestly, my lord, nothing that you've described is in the possession of my master!"

Unvar looked at him for a long moment. "Shall we check?" He asked with a cold smile, "And see if your master is as honest as you claim?"

The guard's eyes flickered briefly between Unvar and the dark hallway as he weighed his options. His master might kill him for having allowed his chamber to be ransacked, but if he resisted, death was far more certain.

"As you wish, my lord," he said, his voice quivering with fear.

Unvar grasped the doorhandle, but the door was locked. Hardly unexpected. This only increased his determination and heightened his expectations. In fifteen seconds, the door was reduced to splinters and he was in. An object as large as the one he was looking for would be difficult to hide. And it would be easy to find if his master was using it as often as Unvar suspected. He started with the largest compartments of the desk, and when this proved fruitless, took the whole desk apart. From there he proceeded to search every part of the room, stopping for neither weapons, battle trophies, or valuables. In the end he was back to square 1. Nothing.

He cursed, but even as he did his mind started turning over the other posibilities. Obviously Mordin had moved it to another location. That left two possibilities. Either he was moving his headquarters and took it with him, or he intended to give it away.

Unvar's heart filled with doubt with a very definate tinge of fear at that possibility. No. He must not have given it away. Mordin didn't know what it did, but he wouldn't have given something away that was always kept in such value by Unvar's family. Not unless he had run out of options.

But Unvar would take it back. Even if he had to fight Mordin and his men to the death. Only Unvar had real power. Not any of these other petty nobles who had broken the fleet into so many different factions.

Unvar climbed up to the topmost tower and looked out. He could see a dozen different towers from here, the homes that the different nobles held as they struggled to retain their private niches of power. Along the coast were the ships, the Black ships of Umbar. They covered the coast, hundreds of them, dotting the sea. All well equipped forces, ready to pounce on unsuspecting shipping. If only they could find the unity they needed they would do it. And in him they'd find that strength again.

"Here we are."

Morund looked up and carefully scanned the area. "You must be wrong. There isn't anyone in sight."

"No. It's hard enough normally to tell precisely in this open sea, but this is obviously the marked spot. See that coral rising out of the sea there?" The sailor asked, pointing. "Where else in the ocean are you going to find a duplicate of that?"

"Then where are they? Answer me that," said Morund, the edge of scorn in his voice showing just what he thought of the sailor's sea knowledge.

"I can't tell, sir. Perhaps on the other side of the coral," he suggested doubtfully.

Just at that moment, the sea spat out foam, a ever widening cascade of water moving out from one spot. In the center was a white ship with a pure white sail, contrasting sharply with the black sailed ship, owned by a notorious Corsair of Umbar. As the ship knived through the water towards him, Morund found his gaze locked on the single person standing at the prow. The man was tall, with a wide brimmed hat and brilliant white clothing. The gentle clunk as the ships touched sides brought Morund to his senses, and he was embarressed for showing such open mouthed astonishment. After all, this was the leader of the High Council of wizards in Middle Earth. He could probably pull off a much bigger stunt than he just had with ease.

"I have come a long way to meet you, Morund, my friend. It has taken me a long journey, and yet you promised me it would be worth my while," Saruman said, his voice gently soothing Morund's worries.

"Well, I'm so pleased that you could come. Yes, I promise you it'll be worthwhile. You see, there's this particular object that I think has a great deal of magic in it. I have no knowledge of such things, but you being a wizard, I thought that you could maybe teach me how to use this object. I'll pay you well, of course," He said when he saw the stern look Saruman's eyes. But this second seemed only to make it worse.

His voice lost all pretense of friendship. "I have come on a long journey to meet you, thinking it is something important, and you say that you desire me to test a item that might be magical for you! Don't you think I have better ways to use my time than this?"

"It's more than that," Morund quickly said, trying desperately to appease the wizard, at the same time wondering what different types of torture he might choose to inflict on him as penance. He quickly picked up the item and held it up for Saruman to see.

All wrath disappeared from Saruman's eyes, replaced by a sudden and keen interest. Saruman remained still for several long moments, as Morund waited with bated breath.

"It's a fraud," Saruman announced at last. "Similar to a very powerful magical item that I've once seen, but no, this is a fraud."

Morund didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

"However, I know that it can be dangerous to those who attempt to use it. Give it to me, and I'll test it."

The voice was persuasive, and before Morund knew what he was doing, he'd placed the object in Saruman's hands. The two ships parted, Saruman's ship drawing away from the Corsair vessel as if by magic.

***

Saruman held the object in his hands, caressing his new treasure. It was the palantir of Orthanc, which had long ago been stolen by a Corsair raid, and presumed lost. Now, it was given back, and it would be used. Oh, yes, this he could definitely put to use.

*Just a note guys, don't make this too magicy. It's kinda difficult to beat the bad-guys, or good-guys for that matter, if they are powerful.*

Dania hurried to her position in the Entmoot. They had conscripted her help, because of her knowledge of what was going on, though she knew little enough of this subject.
One by one each of the Ents took a turn in describing what they had seen or felt, and as the hours crept by, it was obvious there was something amiss. Dark men creeping about where men had feared to tread for centuries, an odd feeling in the general atmosphere, the world seemed to be waiting for something, but nothing good could come of this.
Finally, late into the night, it was Dania's turn to speak. She had been taught some of the language of the Ents, enough to speak haltingly to them, and answer their questions. She told of the seemingly random attacks on Elven patrols, no one was ever really seen, but they were human. It was Dania's theory that they were attempting to make a diversion for something else, and it seemed to her that it was working. None of the other Elves believed her, however, and until now she had gone nowhere with her ideas. The Ents took this news into consideration. Dania was permitted to leave, while the Ents discussed these issues long into the night.

A squirrel sitting a foot away would not have noticed the figure sitting in the dark, watching the ent gathering from the hilltop. Pure chance had let him happen upon them, and even more luck from stumbling into the meeting and being caught. But then, Malagar had always had his share of lucky breaks. Understanding what was being discussed, however, was not one of then. His vast amounts of studies and lore of middle-earth had given him knowledge that ents existed - more than most knew - but little more of their culture.
Upon seeing the elven girl leaving the gathering, he crept along behind her. Few have the skill to avoid being detected by keen elven senses and wariness - but Malagar was one of them. Finally, on one of his many impulsive moves, he decided to introduce himself.
Creeping a bit ahead of the elves, he slips out in front of their path, swirling his garb about, and awaiting them to approach, fiddling a bit with his appearance in the few moments left to him.
When Dania spots him, he will bow deeply, removing a large browed bright yellow hat from his head and flourishing it before him. His cloak - this a bright orange - flutters about him as he straightens and replaces his hat, saying, with a grin, "Greetings, fellow travelers! I am glad to find others about in these dark woods - indeed, I feared I was the only being about save the trees and woodland creatures. If I may make your acquiantance, my name is Malagar D'Orthand - but please simply call me Mal." Mal ends his speech with a charming smile, opening his hands wide in supplication, and also revealing no weapons apparently carried on his form.

-Mathron

Meanwhile, to the south of the borders of Fangorn there was a battle going on. Findaluin y'Citelo and his small army of knights, archers, and spearmen were fending off a group of orcs from a raid that had gone horribly wrong. He had been sent out from Dol Amroth to assist Gondor and Rohan in their fight against Mordor, he and his band would go here and there waylaying groups of orcs. On this particular occasion he had surrounded a group of about 70 orcs and had engaged battle with them when a second group of orcs had come from behind.

Now, he and his army, were stuck on a hill with about 200 orcs all about them. All he had were 19 knights, 20 spearmen, and 11 archers. He had lost 5 knights, 4 spearmen, and one archer so far. The archers stayed on the peak of the hill and the rest formed a ring around them.

"Sir," said Atoile, Findaluin's second-hand, "there is news of a second band of orcs coming near from the east. If we do not do something to escape we will surely be defeated. I suggest--"

Findaluin cut him off, "Yes, I know what you would suggest. That the knights and spearmen break through the orc barrier, leaving the horseless archers here on top. But first we must speak to the archers of this."

And so it was agreed, the archers would stay on top while the rest broke through the barrier. As night fall began the horsemen prepared for the escape. All wearing black cloaks and dark blue capes, they were no easy target to see in the night. So they would not be spotted till they were close to the orcs.

The men crept silently closer to the orc bands, and then the signal was made. A deafening trumpet rang out and the archers let loose their arrows. Findaluin's sword flashed in the fires of the orcs as he decapitated one orc after another. And then they were free and riding like the wind towards the safety of the Fangorn forest.

The orcs raced after the horsemen with a fiery determination. And then, when the Findaluin's army thought they would make they saw the second band of orcs coming fromt their left to cut them off. About five spearmen broke off to slow the orcs down. They succeeded, but only through death.

The horsemen fled deeper and deeper into the forest and the orcs followed. And then, all of a sudden, they burst through some trees and were in the middle of the Entmoot. All the horsemen stopped and stared.

*Is that supposed to be an ill-forshodowing name? Mal is a rather negative word in French.*

Dania looked closely at the new, brightly coloured, personage before her. An automatic reaction at being surprised, her hand felt for her dagger. But the moment she realized she had done so, her hand dropped again.
"Greetings, Mal. My name is Dania Elfin," she answered with a slight bow of her own. "This is my travelling companion, Narsh." Narsh remained silent, but also bowed his head in respect.
"Is there anything we can do to help you?"

It was night at the shores of Harad Coast. Unvar walked across the beach, his hands behind his back, a frown of agitation on his brow. Tonight was the night when his bid for power went into play. He looked up, staring intently at the string of towers. He saw nothing unusual. Of course. His men were much to careful to allow someone's gaze to detect them. Only if someone knew precisely where they would be would they notice. Unvar's keen vision finally picked up a movement. The thin line of men carefully climbing along the ivy towards the top finally became visible to his eyes. It was probably time that he returned to his tower. It would soon be too dangerous to be walking the beaches alone. He hurried back to his tower and climbed the wall.

From the nearest tower he suddenly heard a shout of alarm, quickly picked up and repeated by dozens of other voices. Two towers down on the other side, a similar cry went up. Soon the sounds were picked up at every tower in the entire string. An hours later the sounds ended, and then there was only an ominous silence.

Well, the name is supposed to be a bit dark and ominous sounding - but not intended to really carry the connotations that typically come with "Mal" in all those languages.
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"Lovely lady, perhaps you could help me indeed!" Malagar clutches at his arm as if it pains him, then pulls his sleeve up to his elbow, and gives his bare arm to their sight.
"Do you see!?" he cries, in a bit of anxiety, then calms slightly, and goes on, "Or rather, not see... once my arm was adorned with an armlet, a great piece of jewelry, of great value to me. Yet it was lost, long ago, and now I seek it out... In any case, I have determined it found its way into this land, somewhere about these general parts, though I have still not truly pinpointed it. And, being a stranger to these parts, you may be able to help me find my way around to some extent - or at least direct me to one who could help me." With these words, Mal slides his sleeve back down, and gives another charming smile.

"Perhaps I could help you," a deep voice says from the shadows of the trees.

A man steps out, he is dressed in greens and browns that had blended perfectly into the forest. At his hip was a sword and over his back was slung a bow.

"I am Faradin, a Ranger of the north. I have traveled these parts before and have come back recently at the request of my friends the Ents.

I arrived in time to see the Entmoot ending and to see this man leaving from his watch over it. And shadowing you until he chose to make his presence known. Little did he know that he had his own shadow."

Oooooo! tsk, tsk, you're not supposed to be able to seeee Mal when he doesn't want to be seen. Sigh, but if you insist...
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Mal gives a shrug and a sheepish grin at Faradin's words, and says, "Tis true, I watched the meeting of the Ent's, though it scarce benefited me, for their language is unknown to me. Still, I hope my behavior can be excused - I found myself in a strange land, little known to me, and was, of course, cautious. In truth, my movements were on instinct, not intentional - that is simply the way I have grown accustomed to moving, and was scarecly putting any effort into it. And I applaud the good ranger here for his skills." And here Mal gives a brief bow to Faradin.

"My lord requests terms for surrender. We are beaten, and grovel at your feet. We beg your mercy, and pardon for having attempted to usurp your true right to the title."

"Tell your lord that mercy will be granted him if he surrenders. He must order his men to receive orders only from me or my lieutenants."

"You are over generous, my lord," the messenger responded.

"Yes, I am. You are dismissed."

Unvar's smile faded as the messenger scurried away. "Now bring in Mordin's messenger," he ordered.

This herald's message was much similar. "And we beg your mercy, as you have given it to the other nobles," he finished.

"I will spare your lives, and even that of the slimy traitor himself, Mordin, on one condition."

"Yes?" the messenger asked, both hopefully and nervously.

"That Mordin give back what he stole from me. That which has been a part of my family for generations. GIVE ME THE PALANTIR!!!!"

The messenger's face paled, and he whispered, "Sire, I'm afraid I cannot do that. Mordin left by ship with this item, three days ago."

"Where did he go?" Unvar asked in a harsh voice, filled with tension and anger.

"He didn't tell us."

Unvar's roar was heard through the double doors, making the guards look at each other and nervously take a couple steps away. The doors exploded open and Unvar went through, a burning fire in his eye.

He turned his gaze on one of his lieutenants. "Ready the ships to sail. We're going on a journey."

The lieutenant stammered nervously and Unvar stormed past him. Then the lieutenant got a glimpse through the double doors. The messenger was lying on the floor, covered in his own blood.
The lieutenant gulped and hurried to carry out his instructions.

"Sir, a sail!"

Mordin frowned. Anyone seeing a single Corsair Ship alone might take the opportunity to eliminate it as revenge.

"A Corsair Ship. It's one of yours!"

For a moment Mordin felt relief. But then the next minute the relief slipped away, leaving only consternation. "What would one of my ships be doing here unless we were in trouble? Unvar may have taken my tower in my absence."

"Not one, sir, there are three ships!"

Mordin looked carefully and soon saw the ships, scything through the water towards him, rapidly catching up. Mordin yelled, his voice carrying easily across the water. "Stop and turn back, your lord, Mordin, orders it!"

The ships did nothing to alter course. As a matter of a fact, they may have sped up a little.

"Turn us around."

"But where will we go sir?"

"I don't care, just go!"

Their ship turned and moved away, gradually beginning to pick up speed, but their pursuers were already in range.
A cloud of flaming arrows and catapult boulders loosed from the ships, a third of them hitting their targets.

"To arms! To arms!" Mordin shouted, strapping on his sword and putting on his helmet and breastplate. A dart glanced off of his breastplate. "Bring our archers and return fire!"




"Get your swords ready, we're boarding her!" Unvar roared. A mad smile darted across his face as he looked at his prey. Just then it's mast toppled, wreathed in flame. The two ships touched sides and soldiers surged into Mordin's ship, Unvar at their head. Instantly he fell upon the first two, of Mordin's men, cutting them down in seconds. He left their bodies and whipped forward toward the upper deck where the enemy archers were picking his men off. Just then, a hail of arrows came from his two other ships, taking out a third of the Mordin's archers in the first flight. Unvar smashed into the upper cabin and quickly glanced around. He gradually began searching, room to room, looking for his target.



Mordin slashed down an attacker and then dashed upwards toward the upper section. He collided with someone coming down and fell back.



Unvar fell back and looked up. He had found his quarry. Mordin saw who it was and knew that running would not help him now. Unvar leapt forwards and struck. Mordin deflected the blade into the wall and jumped backwards down the hallway. Mordin gave a sideways sweep and missed, his sword clunking against the wall. With a swift movement, Unvar pinned the sword with his own and jumped in, grabbing Mordin around the neck with an iron grip. Then there was a feirce flash of pain in Mordin's arm and he crumpled against the deck, Unvar's blade pressed against his neck.

"Now, we can talk," said Unvar in a low voice, hissing between clenched teeth.

Mordin gasped for breath. "I'll answer all your questions. Only don't kill me. Spare me and my men."

"Where is the palantir that you stole?"

"I wanted to understand what it did, so I took it to a meeting place. That Coral outcropping yonder." He jerked his eyes to the side. "I wanted to meet a wizard who could tell me what it did."

"You've explained your reasoning. So you've found out what it does. Now where is it?"

Mordin tensed himself. "I met the wizard. It was Saruman the White, ruler of the high council. We have been decieved! He told me it was worthless, and dangerous to the user!"

"WHERE IS IT!"

"I gave it to Saruman."

Unvar's eyes turned into slits of fury, and the hand around his sword tightened. Mordin knew that this was the end. His good hand seized the hilt of his fallen sword and he swung to the side. But it was too late. Unvar slashed down and then stood. He climbed back up the stairs. The battle was over. He climbed back into his ship.

"Set course for Middle Earth."

As Findaluin stood staring at the ents and the ents staring at them the orcs came crashing through the trees in fury. Then the ents and men had an understanding; kill the orcs.

At first, the orcs did not even see the ents and brought there full force down upon Fin's army. The men were nearly helpless against such an onslaught, about half the men were killed before the ents took control. The ents were working the orcs over but there were just too many of them, and the orcs continually assualted the men. Findaluin was engaged in battle with two large orcs when his horse was slain and he was flung from his horse. And then the orc brought his axe down upon his neck....

Findaluin lay there knocked out since his helmet had flown off when he was launched from his horse, he had struck his head on a rock. An ent was looking straight down at him, Fin scuttled backwards and looked around, his gold helmet was lying beside him and his black cloak lying beside him. His gold platemail was dented and his blue cape beside him. Then he saw it, and struck like a knife through his heart. All his men were dead, he was the last one. At that, he looked at the ent and ran off into the forest.

Faradin looked up at a faint sound.

"Fighting, at the Entmoot!! Follow me!!"

He turned and sped down the path towards the meeting place of the Ents.

Mal looks curiously in the direcion Faradin runs off, then cocks his head, listens for a moment, shrugs, and runs after him.
His cloak a bright red flash behind him, he is certainly no longer hard to spot in the woods, as he nimbly dodges around trees toward where the noise has grown louder.

"Sorry, sire, but we can travel no further along the river. It gets to narrow at the bridge. We'll have to continue on foot."

Unvar cursed under his breath, but nodded shortly. "Very well. Prepare a large ground force. If Mordin was telling the truth and Saruman does possess the palantir, it could well take all of my skills and a great deal of military might to convince him to part with his newly found treasure."

"Yes, sire," the captain said and immediately began issuing out the orders.

This would be a hard trek. First they would have to find Isengard. Next they would have to remove the palantir, and that could well mean having to destroy its owner. But Unvar was up to these tasks.

"Sire, we're ready to move."

Unvar snapped out of his reverie and looked out at the baggage train which had assembled and the corsairs, standing in their motley array. Unvar leapt off of the ship and into the row boat. The slaves immediately bent their bags to their oars and pulled the boat swiftly to the land. Unvar sloshed through the muddy water until he reached the bank, and climbed up. After a quick inspection, he saw that the force was ready. After giving some quick orders to the ship captain regarding the fleet, he walked to the head of the army.

"Ready? Good. ON!!!"

And thus, the march began.

*You write well, Lief, good job. Meanwhile, it seems I've lost the people I was talking too. Mayhap I should catch up to them... Oh, and just a note. Rangers are the best trackers, hunters, and shadowers ever known in Middle Earth. That was why he could see you, Mal.*

Without a word, Narsh and Dania sped after the others down the path, and on the Entmoot. When they arrived, it was nearly too late. What battle there was, was short-lived. No men seemed to yet live, which greatly saddened them.

Dania could hardly even reconize the place she'd left just a short while ago. Bodies of the dead and dying were scattered everywhere, both those of men, and of orcs. Twilight shadows were creeping in through the trees, approching one of the Ents, Narsh asked permission to clear a place and start a small fire, which he did.

Dania walked in and out through the area, searching thickets for any orcish faces who might have been yellow-bellied enough to hide. She sighed. Finding no one, she began helping remove the beastly bodies from the Forest. The Ranger had started a bon-fire, and was already throwing the bodies onto it. A stench had already begun to fill the air, which the wind had mercifully begun to blow away, along with the oily black smudge of smoke.

Unvar and his men reached the gates of Isengard without a fight or the smallest bit of resistance. However, this merely made the men anxious. The lack of opponents unnerved these men, who lived by muscle and brawn. As they had neared the gates, some of them had begun to whisper to each other of the dangers of approaching the leader of the white council in his stronghold. When Unvar caught word of these sentiments he stamped them out vigorously and efficiently.

Now, he looked up at the tall walls and strong gates in awe. The sun beat down on the back of his neck and sweat dripped down from his hairline. He quickly brushed it away with the back of his hand and peered farther forward. Beyond the walls he could see a pure white tower rising upwards, its walls sheer and smooth, without a dent or crevice in them. Impossible to scale, and probably protected by magic that Unvar didn't know of. This was where his palantir was held. A frown of uncertainty crossed Unvar's face. None of the corsair towers came remotely close to this great. And Unvar didn't have the siege knowledge to take it by force. But Saruman didn't know that.

Murmurs began to grow behind him, as the men shuffled uneasily at their leader's apparent uncertainty. Unvar straightened and drew his sword. He smote three resounding blows against the door, leaving three long white scratches on the polished oak.

"Open up!" Unvar bellowed. "Open, and bring forth your leader!"

For a long moment no response came. But then, a strange and slightly rebuking voice floated out from the battlements. "Who is it that hits so harshly against my door? What offense have I done that deserves an armed force to come and make demands?"

The voice took Unvar off guard, and for a moment he was sorely tempted to apologize. But only for a moment. Then his heart hardened. The voice was strangely persuasive, and made him eager to please. But this could only be a ploy of the wizard. When had Unvar ever apologized to anyone? Or asked forgiveness? He had never even been tempted to say such a thing.

"Your offense is great, decrepite fool! You have had dealings with those who stole from the Lord of the Corsairs of Umbar, and have taken that which he stole. Give back the palantir, and we will forgive your part in the affair. Refuse, and you will be thrown from the highest pinnacle of your tower, as the rest of your castle smolders in ruin around you."

Unvar's men shuffled unhappily at this, but a blazing glare from their lord silenced all opposition from his own men.
Then Saruman finally appeared in person on the wall, looking down on Unvar and his host.

"You are mistaken, my Lord Unvar. This palantir of which you speak is not here. Neither me nor any of my men have had any contact with those who stole it. However I have many friends in many different places, in sky, and ocean as well as on ground. And my spies did report seeing a meeting between one Mordin of the Corsairs . . ."

Unvar's attention jerked back to the speaker.

". . . and Findaluin, an Elven Lord."

Saruman's eyes looked keenly down on Unvar, as he quietly pressed his power against Unvar's wavering and undecided mind.

Unvar's eyes closed as his thoughts struggled for relief against the opression that Saruman was subtley inflicting.
He slowly opened them again, and looked up at the old wizard, staring down at him like a hawk.

This man was hard to get a hold of, Saruman thought grimly, as he struggled to keep on his hold of the other's mind. All I have to do is hold on for a few moments longer . . .
Then he felt the release.

"Where is this Findaluin?"

Saruman breathed a silent breath of relief. "Last I heard he was personally overseeing an elivsh patrol outside Fangorn, a forest a short ways from here. My men will give you instructions."

He quickly glanced down on his side of the wall and nodded to one of his men. The soldiers unbarred the gate and one of Saruman's servants went out. The man held a brief discussion with Unvar, involving detailed instructions and information, which Unvar's keen mind quickly seized a hold of and memorized.





Unvar and his host began to move away, but as they did, Unvar called one of his lieutenants over.

"Yes sir?"

"Get one of our best spies and have them watch Orthanc. I don't entirely trust the old conniving wizard, and there's certainly a possibility that he's lying."

"Then why are we leaving?"

"Because as you know, our army is in no state to conduct a siege on a fortress like Isengard, and even if we did take it, we could never get into that inside tower of Sarumans. Plus, he is the greatest wizard of the high council, and they hold to a strong moral code, and have a great belief in upholding their own personal honor. No, I think it much more likely that these elves are the ones who took it. They like this kind of magic, and remember, orcs were in the beginning made out of elves. They are crafty and cunning, but this Findaluin will not stand up to our force." Unvar's mouth became a thin line and his eyes narrowed. "He shall pay for this."