Fangorn Forest

The ship was now on the anduin, a small fog and a touch of magic hidding it from the sight of everyone, even the dark lord wouldn't be able to truly understand who was comming, and before he had time to investigate she would be far and undectable by anyone on the middle earth.

Only few of the maia still living could possibly know who she was and the other could only guess her true power.

In few hours she would again walk the middle earth and if everything went fine in less than a day she would talk with the ents and hopefully learn what's going on.

Malagar drapes himself onto the bench, and leans back slightly as Unvar questions him.

"Indeed, perhaps we can help each other in more ways than one," responds Mal, and continues, "As for myself, I do not serve Saruman, or even know overly much of him, save he is one of those of power still in these lands. From your tone I take it he is not a friend of yours as well, or if he is an ally, one you obviously look upon with suspicion."

Mal stops, and pauses, gazing more upon Unvar, a slight smile touching upon his lips, and then goes on to say, "I feel I can unburden my reasons here to you, for you seem to be an understanding man. Long have I been gone from these parts, but I lost an object of mine, a relic that has great value to me... I have been searching after it for many years now, and my travels led me here. At first I thought it might be in this forest, Fangorn, but now that I am here, I realize these treefolk, the Ents, would have little use for such a thing, and any unwatched item such as it would easily find its way into the hands of, of course, Saruman himself, as he is so nearby."

Now Mal straightens up, and folds his hands across his lean chest, saying, "So now, good lord Unvar, I shall say to you that if Saruman does indeed have the item I search after, I doubt he will willingly part with it, and thus, I will likely find myself opposed to him, whether he knows it or not. Whether you be his foe or ally, I reveal this to you - use it as you may." With that, Mal nods to Unvar, finishing his short tale.
-Mathron

Unvar's surprise flicked across his face only for a moment, but it didn't escape Malagar. "Your story is remarkably similar to mine," he said, straightening in his chair. "And I do not doubt it's truth. I myself am the commander of the Corsairs of Umbar." He looked at the roof for a moment, and then back down at his companion. "Obviously I wouldn't come this far out of my territory for any trivial reason. I owned a magical item as well. At the time I was not in complete control of Umbar, as my predecessors were. An unscrupulous corsair named Mordin stole the item, as he knew that it had magical properties. As I struggled to reconquer what was my own, this corsair met with an unknown person at a specified place in the ocean, between Harad and Middle Earth. The unknown person took the item from Mordin, and brought it back to Middle Earth. Before I killed him, Mordin told me that he'd given it to Saruman. I discovered Isengard, and was informed that his spies had witnessed the meeting between Mordin and Findaluin. I traced Findaluin here and . . ." Unvar's voice dropped off for a long moment.

"But now that I think about it, I cannot understand why I made that decision."

Malagar leaned forward. "Is it possible that Saruman used his magical power to influence you?"

Unvar's brow was creased in thought. "Perhaps. Yes, I believe that is quite possible." His expression cleared. "Yes, I'm almost sure that is what happened." He stood up. "Slythre, inform my captains that the force should prepare to move. Oh, yes, inform them that the chase for Findaluin has come to a halt, and those elves that they no longer have to fear for their lives."

An icy expression of anger flicked across his face as he looked off towards the north east. But it was gone when he looked back at Malagar.
"It appears that we both have business at Isengard. Perhaps we should go there together?"

Faradin looked around the forest and sighed in disgust and dissapointment. "He's gotten away from us, and I'm not sure where he is. This is getting us nowhere!"

"I think I know where we may find some answers. I'm going to Isengard and ask Saruman what he knows of these doings. Surely a wizard and member of the White Council will be willing to aid a descandent of the men of Numenor."


*finally getting everyone headed in the same direction, even though I have no idea what Elbereth orginally intended for this RPG

Sauron's blazing eye was a beam of red in the blackness of Mordor. The sky was black, but through it, the eye could easily see the shape of a winged creature swooping downwards towards him. Hundreds of thousands of orcs and other evil creatures were camped around and inside Barad Dur. The creature swooped low over them, and glided upwards, landing before the lidless eye. The steed's owner dismounted, moved forward, and knelt on one knee, bathed in the red light of his master.

"Have you notified our servant outside Fangorn, and given him our palantir?"

"Yes, sire," hissed the Ringwraith, his glinting armor and pale, dead eyes, staring up into his master's fearlessly.

"It is a small price to pay, when in the end it shall cause one of our greatest enemies, Saruman, to fall into darkness. He already has begun to slide on his own accord, but this shall twist his loyalties against the Valar forever, and add the Corsairs of Umbar into our ever increasing army of darkness."

Syntia stop moving. She felt a dark presence, the attention of a powerful evil being, gazing toward Fangorn. The presence stay focus for few moment and slowly withdraw. She couldn't possibly have been detected, not yet, but it was unsetling. Important event were soon to happen and somehow the great forest was linked to it. The need to find the Entfolk become a priority. But soon she'll be walking under the mighty tree and the animals will hopefully help her in her quest.

An hours later she was walking under the tree.the forest was just like in her memory, wild, untamed, as it was when the first born awakened so long ago. Being in this place raise old memory long forgotten but still present in her mind. The few bird were signing undisturbed by her presence. Then the path she would take apear before her eyes. No one could possibly see it, it was present only in her mind, a souvenir from a time long gone. The path hasen't been tended in age, but she could see the same rock, undisturbed by the passage of time. Everything was different and yet nothing has realy changed. She was walking peacefully in perfect symbiosis with her suronding.

After few hours she reached her destination, the Entmooth. Of course everyone got their own definition of this place but to her it was only the Entmooth were she had passed day's talking with the Entfolk so long time ago. She slowly goes on her knee and open herself to the forest, silently summoning the entfolk. As her sence strech to the far limit of the forest she became aware of every life present within it. Squirels, bird, bear all living in harmony, then she discern the Entfolk and their huorn companion, few of them were answering her call. She smile as she recognise one of them. It would be good to talk with him again. Then she detect the other intelligent being present in the forest, two elfs and a human, they weren't very far from her, she would have to be carefull. Then her attention was draw outside the forest, a weakened yet powerfull being was near. She slowly retire her presence in the forest and then to her. She open her eyes and smile again. Thing could become interresting.

She start to meditate, seamingly unarmed and an easy prey yet realy aware of her surunding. She was waiting for the Ents.

Mal's expression remains implacable, but he nods, and says, "Your tale explains a great many things... and, indeed, the tales of Saruman I have heard do indicate he could easily muddle the minds of even the greatest men."

A thoughtful expression crosses Mal's face, and he glances up, as though peering elsewhere for a moment, than shakes his head, and continues, "Indeed, it seems our paths lie together, and undoubtably we can both bring our strengths to bear to regain our lost possessions. Still, Saruman has reputedly much power himself, and we shall be wise to take all precautions we can in any dealings with him."
-Mathron

As Findaluin walked west, back to his home land, he had the feeling of being watched, and, if it made any sense, followed. So he made for a set of bushes that were a little over his height and hid in them.

His pursuer came walking by with a look of puzzlement on his face. He had been to worried about catching up with his prey and did not watch him carefully enough to see where he had gone. As he passed the bushes Findaluin jumped out and quick as lightening had a knife to his pursuers throat.

"Who are you and why are you following me?" were Findaluins only questions.

*I beg your pardon, but Agravigan is meant to have eagle sharp vision, plus years of experience. This doesn't mean he blunders into traps he should have seen a long time before.*

"I was lost in the woods, and seeing you, decided that perhaps you could help me," Agravigan answered with fear in his voice.

"Do you think I'm fool enough to fall for that kind of ploy?" Findaluin asked. "I've felt your gaze for several minutes now."

Actually, Agravigan didn't expect that ploy to work. But, staring through the bushes a few yards away was Slythre. She apparently had followed after him. Must have accomplished her mission already and been sent here after him. He'd bought her the few seconds of time that she needed.

Slipping up behind Findaluin, she seized him around the neck with one arm, and slashed down on his sword arm with the other. Findaluin recovered from his surprise swiftly, grabbing her right arm with his left and pulling her downwards. Instantly she applied pressure to his throat, squeezing hard.

Findaluin began to see stars. But Findaluin had been trained for combat. A trained soldier, now that it came to this kind of thing, certainly had more practice and knowledge of this than Slythre. He reached for her face with his wounded right hand, and, grabbing her hair, pulled her over him and onto the ground. Her booted foot slammed into his chin, throwing him off. He came up a few seconds later with his sword in his hand. Only then did he really see his attacker.

Her hair had come loose and flowed freely behind her. She was wearing loose green clothing and a silver cloak. She held a dagger in her hand, but was already sheathing it.

Agravigan was on his feet now as well, armed with a short sword.

"No need, Agravigan," she said. "Your mission is changed, that's why I came after you."

Agravigan lowered the sword in disbelief. "Why?"

"It has been discovered that Saruman really was the thief. We're going to Isengard." She brushed her scalp gingerly with her hand, wincing. "You fight like an orc," she said to Findaluin.

Seeing both of his opponents now disarmed, Findaluin lowered his blade, but kept it in hand. "I fought in desperation," he said, as he wrapped a piece of cloth around his wrist for a temporary bandage.

"Come on," Slythre said, motioning Agravigan to follow her. They both disappeared into the woods.

The creature leapt over the wall and landed with a soft thud on the ground. Leaping forward through the night, it cleared the distance across the open territory in seconds. Quickly, it jumped against the wall and began to clamber up the tower of Orthanc, it's feet clutched to the wall, even though it was entirely smooth. Clambering up the tower, it reached the balcony and climbed in. He was in. Creeping along the floor, it entered the chamber.

Saruman wasn't in here. He was distracted on business, talking to his captains about the force from Umbar, and deciding what to do about it.

The creature rose to its feet and looked around. Ah, there it was. The palantir was on the table. It was probably through it that Saruman had discovered about the approaching army. This would mean a fight. Of that, he was certain.

The creature took the palantir from it's resting place, and replaced it with Sauron's. Then, it left the way it had come, climbing down the tower and over the wall. It was just moving away from the foot of the wall when it was spotted.

"Look! There!"

"What is it?"

"I don't know. But it's an intruder. You, stop where you are or we'll shoot!"

As if they could shoot me? the creature sniffed in disgust. It dashed towards the forest, arrows zipping after it. The creature scoffed at the archers inwardly. Fools.

Just then, an arrow dug into it's leg. With a shriek, it fell to the ground, the palantir rolling away in the darkness. Two more arrows connected with the creature, and it lay still.

A silent figure appeared out of the mists and stepped over to the body. It's hand stretched out as it searched the damp soil, searching. No arrows targeted this figure. It continued it's search for a few minutes longer, and then found what it was looking for. It wrapped the palantir in a cloak, and disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"Knowing the type of spy network that Saruman is sure to have, they probably became aware of our army a couple days before we arrived."

Malagar nodded. "That sounds like Saruman. Being the leader of the White Council certainly gives him a lot of authority."

"Too much," Unvar said. He looked out again at the strong walls of Isengard, wondering for the thousandth time how they were going to succeed in the upcoming siege.

Malagar voiced his own thoughts. "Does your force have the experience or equipment to succeed in the siege?"

"No," Unvar said in frustration. His eyes flashed with anger as he looked again at the thick and strong walls. "And it is becoming more and more clear to me that the only way to succeed is by starving them out. And I don't know if my men can wait that long."

"It wouldn't work. He'd signal the eagles and have food transported in that way," Malagar said.

I don't know if I can wait that long either, Unvar thought. All right, this is the time to think and plan. We can't take it by strength, and knowing the force he's likely to have in there, we probably won't be able to take it at all. Very well. I don't care about conquering or holding the fortress. My goal is to take the palantir.

Unvar's brow creased with thought as he leaned forward in his chair. His eyes closed and he was silent for several long moments. Suddenly his eyes opened and he stood. He turned to one of his captains. "Get Slythre and Agravigan. Tell them that they have another job to do."

Malagar swung the rope over his head around and around, gaining momentum. Then he flung it into the air. He heard the grappling hook clank on the stone, and skid a small way. He pulled and it latched onto something and held. Unvar walked over and tugged it a couple times himself. He glanced at Agravigan.

"Anything yet?"

"Not a soul. Your diversion must have worked."

"Either that or it's a trap," Slythre said quietly.

"All the better," Unvar growled as he grabbed hold of the cord. "My muscles ache for a fight."

"Well don't start one," Slythre said. "Secrecy is our only hope for success."

"But how can we hope to have complete secrecy, if Saruman has the pa . . ." His voice trailed off as he caught the angery glare from Unvar.

Unvar seized the rope and quickly began to climb, hand over hand upwards.

I am assuming we are attempting to thieve from Saruman. ~grin~ Which I am perfectly happy with.
************************************************** **********

Malagar hides a brief smile, wondering what Agravigan almost slipped up and mentioned, then tucked it into his memory and focused on the task at hand. He skimmied up the rope after Unvar, and once over the top, dropped over the brief ledge and onto the top of the small tower they were at. Scanning around, and seeing nothing in sight, he still kept quiet as the other two came over the top.

Now that they were within the actual structure of Isengard, he kneeled to the ground, running his hands across the stone beneath him. At first, he felt nothing, but as the others looked on puzzled, and Unvar, impatient, started to say something, Mal's face brightened, and a large grin grew across it.

Inside, Mal was exultant. It had taken a moment, but he could feel it calling to him, could feel what was once part of him desiring to be a part once again.

Standing back up, Mal turned to Unvar and said, in soft quiet tones, "I believe I can lead us to wherever his treasure is kept. However, we must rely on a bit of luck here, for I know not whether all his treasure will be together, or whether the item you seek will be kept with the item I search for. In any case, follow me, and we must take our chances."

With that, Mal turned, and crept around the top of the tower until he found a door, and went down it and into the corridors and pathways within the tower, and between it and the other buildings in Isengard, avoiding any who where still on alert, and realised the path they were taking was drawing closer and closer to Orthanc, Sarumans personal tower and abode.

Finally they reached the base of the tower. Malagar stepped forward and did something to the lock of the door. They moved swiftly in.

"This is too easy," Unvar whispered. He reached to his side and pulled his sword from it's sheath.

Agravigan's eyes stared through the walls on all sides. "No one yet, sire."

"Your men must be doing well to call such attention to the walls," Malagar remarked.

They passed several doors but Agravigan shook his head at all of them.

"Still higher," he said.

Finally, they reached the top. Agravigan stared through the door and saw the palantir on the table. "There it is," he said excitedly, pointing at the door.

Malagar was plainly nearly as agitated and excited as Unvar. He opened that one as well and they rushed in.



Saruman's eyes widened and he whirled around. "This is a diversion! Come with me," he ordered his troops. A couple dozen troops bearing the insignia of the white hand followed him towards the tower.



Unvar saw the palantir and his heart leapt. Forgetting Malagar and everyone else, he rushed up to it and stared into it's depths, seeking the comforting warm familiarity.



For several long seconds nothing happened. Then, mists cleared, and he could truly see again. He saw the corsairs making their attacks against the walls, Saruman and his men rushing towards the tower. Then he pulled away, staring over Fangorn Forest. Out beyond it was another fortress. Apparently only hastily built. A quick dig in, but still capable of strong defense. Then he soared out farther, whipping past cities and towers, forests and mountains.

But something was wrong. Usually he had complete control, being able to choose what and where he could see. But now he was being slowly and subtly drawn somewhere. This was wrong. His many years experience with his palantir has allowed him to know the feel of his palantir. This one felt . . . different. Darker. Now he could see where he was being drawn. There was blackness surrounding him. The sensation of being clutched came on him. He couldn't pull out now. He was being hurtled through choking fumes and over a black and dead land. Then he saw a castle. He was lifted up. He rose over rampart after rampart and wall after wall. Then he was swept up a tower. And then he saw it. A single red eye, staring into his own.

Unvar gave a scream and felt arms clutching him, pulling him away. He fell to the floor with a thud.

Slythre raced up the stairs from her position. "They're onto us!" she cried as she bolted the door.

A mighty blow smashed against the door and it began to creak on it's hinges and cave inwards.

"Here, my lord," the captain said hoarsely as he placed the pouch on the table. "Your spy has delivered it, as promised."

Racking claws shredded the sack, and the palantir within was lifted up. The flames cast a lurid red glow around the master and the captain who knelt before it. A diabolical smile filled the face of the master, his black hide shifting, making it look even worse than before. It's sharp teeth came into view briefly, glinting in the flame. Rows of orcs and black clad men surrounded the pair, all armed to the teeth.

"Shall we go in and get the Book of Secrets?" the captain asked.

"It's not that easy," said the master after staring into the palantir for a long moment. "Those fool ents won't allow us to take it without a fight. But the hardest part of our task is done. We now know the location. The blind forays into the woods are no longer necessary. The ents have been sleepy and may not realise what we are doing until it is too late to stop us. But I'd prefer to have a safer entrance." The master brushed a hand through the coals, stirring up the flames. The flare of fire briefly illuminated it's grotesque features and the captain trembled in fear. "See to it," the master ordered.

"Yes, my lord," the captain said, bowing and retreating from the chamber.

*Hhhmmm? What are you planning Lief? Anyways to my post.


Faradin slipped into position behind the group. Stupid fools he thought, trying to sneak into Isengard like that, I better make sure they don't get into trouble.

He followed them at a fair distance so that he would not be discovered and saw them enter a room. He heard feet racing towards him, and quicly ducked into an alcove just off the passageway. He saw four men in the uniforms of the white hand race down the corridor and begins pounding on the door. Drawing his bow he took careful aim and fired. His arrow took one man in the back of the throat and he fell, he second took another in the chest as he turned. He drew his sword and charged. The first man fell quickly and he found himself face to face with the last man. A captain by the look of his uniform. This man would not fall as easily as his men did.

Time for my own little twists to the plot, hehehe...
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Mal saw Unvar head for his bauble, but was quickly distracted. The room was filled with treasures, both those that glowed golden to the natural eyes, and many other items that glowed to other senses, deeper ones. But none of these was Mal concerned with. Crossing the floor, he saw it, shining darkness stretching out from beneath one pile of magical relics. Tossing them aside, he slowly lowered his hand, and grasped it - at last, at last! He nearly cried, in joy and happiness. Lifting it from the ground, feeling tendrils of his old strength running back into him, he paid no heed - did not even hear, or notice - as Unvar dropped to the ground in agony, or Slythre's shouts of warning. All he could do was gaze upon its beauty.

An armband, circular, made of pitch black onyx, it had inscribed on it, in dark runes only visible to those who could see through shadows, ancient, forgotten words. Perhaps it was nothing to compare with other such items forged in ages past, such as those created by the dark lord himself, but in the current day and age, it harbored much power to rival even the greatest still on Middle Earth.

"The first step, to regaining my whole..." whispered Malagar, then slowly slipped it on, feeling it rest into place upon his lean and muscled arm. With a sigh, a gasp, as he felt it reconnect with his inmost self - felt what had once been a part of him become part of him once again, he once more became aware of his surroundings. Turning, he saw Slythre and Agravigan desperately fighting the attackers who were streaming in the doors, the two standing over Unvar's comatose body, with cuts appearing upon the forms as they were outnumbered and outmatched. The door they had came in by was still bared, but another entrance had been opened and from there came the soldiers of the white hand.

Mal laughed, and brought his arms up, and unnoticed to the soldiers of Isengard, the shadows around them began to take form and shape, and tendrils of darkness began to rise up behind the soldiers. Suddenly, Agravigan gave a cry, as his blade was knocked from his grasp, and the soldier facing him lifted his own sword to deliver the deathblow. With another laugh, Mal twisted his hand, and the shadows behind the soldiers twined about the necks and limbs, drawing tight, and cutting off their breath, and screams, and snapping their bones and necks, dropping the dozen guards who had come in upon the ground, leaving their lifeless forms and flowing across the ground to cloak Mal in a mantle of shadow.

Walking out, strolling past the astonished Slythre and Agravigan and into the outside hallway, to see more soldiers charging towards him. With but a thought, they found darkness descend upon them, and a deathlike slumber came upon them, dropping them to the ground, unconscious.

Mal called out, "Saruman! Master of the so called White Council! I name you thief and plunderer! Would you hold MY property from me? Would you keep me from what is mine? Face me, craven fool, and learn my might!" Power thrumming through him, Mal felt once more as though he was close to his former self. What fools, these mortals, to face one such as him! To think, that he had lived for so many years as not much greater than them - to think, that his brithright had been denied him for so long!

Out unto the battlements of Orthanc walked Mal, seeking Saruman, or some other form to vent his power upon. But, before he found any, another found him. A thief is silent, but death is even quieter still, and until a sharp, burning pain pierced Mal's arm, he knew nothing of the figure on the towertop beside him.

The pain! Mal could not cry out, for it stole his breath, and set cold and fire blazing together through his form. Dropping to his knees, Mal staggered forward, trying to turn around, trying to concentrate and bring his newly regained power to bear on whatever foe threatened him - and found the power gone again. Looking on the ground near him, Mal saw his armband lying upon there - still in his arm, which was no longer connected to his body. Mal clutched at his side, in disbelief, and struggled to his feet as blood flowed over his fingers and hand. He looked up from where his arm lay, looked up at the figure standing next to it.

Armored in obsidian mail, with a grinning skull for a face, a figure faced him out of nightmare. Long before the Nazgul where brought about by the Dark Lord of Mordor, other beings roamed the world, and the tales of their dark deeds makes the current fireside tales pale in comparison.

"You!" cried out Mal, fear and hatred apparent upon his face.

"You know the decree of the Valar, Mal. If you choose to meddle in the affairs of the mortals of Middle Earth, you must be as one of them."

A dagger appeared in Mal's left hand, sticky from the blood pouring from his other shoulder, and he hurled himself at the other figure, spinning around him despite his wound, and driving the dagger toward an open spot where the helmet of the figure met its armor.

Quicker than light, faster than dark, the forms hand flew up and siezed Mal's remaining arm, halting his movement, then, in one quick motion, threw him over the side of the tower. As he fell, Mal opened his mouth to cry out, but the pain overcame him, and as the wind hurtled past him, he fell into unconsciosness.

Meanwhile, Slythre and Agravigan were doing their best to depart the premises as well. Though more troops were heading towards them, the ones closest had already been dealt with by Mal. Finding an exit, they carried their lord, who was still unmoving, out of the building, and despite their skills, as they ran off into the woods and sought the safety of their army, they did not notice as they passed within a few feet of a crumpled form lying near the base of one of the towers.

Throughout all this, Faradin was unaware of what was taking place within the room, and was finding the captain he faced, a grizzled veteran, and strong, was proving harder to best than he had hoped. Suddenly, however, screams and groans came from the barred room, and as the captains attention wavered, Faradin pierced him through the heart. He found his way blocked by a foe he could not best, however - the door. Despite his greatest efforts, and all his strength, it would not budge, and as the sounds died down from within the room, and more footsteps began to race along the corridor towards him, he muttered, "Then let these fools look to themselves!" and took himself out of the hallway, narrowly avoiding a force of two score men coming into the passage. Frustrated at being unable to discover what had happened within, he made his way, silently and hidden, from the tower. Soon, all the 'invaders' of the tower were gone, and Saruman was left puzzled and greatly worried over the slain men of his, and with no explanation left behind...

Unvar sank to the leaf covered ground of the forest with a groan. He was pale and weakened by the struggle, but still alive, in his right mind, and, amazingly, unharmed. He looked up at his two spies. "What happened back there?"

Slythre took a couple steps forward. "Saruman must have had some sort of alarm system. Anyway, he detected and trapped us in there. Malagar used some sort of magical power to vape most all of the opposing soldiers. We managed to escape."

"And we probably wouldn't have succeeded," Agravigan put in, "If it weren't for a green clad man who followed us in. I saw him cut down the soldiers who were hitting the door. We owe him something for that."

"What happened to the palantir?"

Agravigan and Slythre looked at each other. "It was left behind, sire. We had enough on our hands already . . ."

"It doesn't really matter," Unvar said, brushing the matter aside. "That was not my palantir. But I was so sure that Saruman had it . . ."

Agravigan squatted down beside Unvar. "What did you see in it?"

"I was drawn to the Red Eye of Mordor," Unvar said with a horrible shudder. Memories flashed through his thoughts. "They were attempting to gain control of me in some way. If you hadn't pulled me away at that moment, I could have lost to them." He clutched Agravigan's hand gratefully. "Thank-you. I believe I almost lost more than my life."

"Could Sauron have wrought some change on the palantir?" Slythre asked.

"It would have been easier to replace it," Agravigan said.

"Let's just think for a moment," Unvar said. "If he did replace it, it probably is already inside the Black Land by now. And believe me, my desire for it isn't strong enough to lead me there."

"Sir," Agravigan hesitated.

Both Slythre and Unvar looked at him.

"It may be nothing sir, but while we were leaving, I did see the dead body of another creature. I've never seen this species before. Perhaps it was purposely bred for some purpose. But it was stuck with arrows. Perhaps if we investigated the site we could uncover some clue?"

Slythre laughed, "You think that Sauron sent out this creature, it replaced the palantir, and then got shot down? Saruman would have had the body inspected. They would have found the palantir and the jig would be up for the Dark Lord. Unvar would never had had to go through that experience up there."

"Unless someone else took the palantir from the body."

"That's stretching it rather far, don't you think?" Slythre countered.

"We'll check the site after nightfall," Unvar said. "It's the best option we have left, and we may well learn something from it. But for now, I must order the corsairs to cease their attack. We must head back to camp now." He had a look close to despair on his face.

What hope is there now for reclaiming the palantir? Unvar asked himself. Next to none.

I feel the flare of dark magic from the top of Orthanc. The fall of Malagar, and the shadow magic. Through my dark red eyes, I see my captains shift in fear. They all fear me. And well they might. I existed since the time of Melkor. Few of my kind still exist in this world. Perhaps this creature is an ally come to join me in my struggle? If so, he shall have none of the benefits. It was I who have gone this far, without any of his help. But no, his intentions are different. He knows nothing of the Book of Secrets. I sigh in silent relief. The captains shift, wondering what is going on. I stir the flames again, letting their heat surround me.

* Hi, I'm back. But I have absolutly no idea where Narsh and Dania are, can anyone tell me? If I have to jump in again, is it ok if we help out Mal? Or would that ruin someone's plan?*