Fangorn Forest

*The Balrog perhaps? Oops, Elbereth, you posted while I was writing. You guys could always find where I left Mal though.


As Faradin raced from the fortress of Orthanc he realized he had no choice. He wanted answers to what was going on here and he saw only one way to get them. "Damn them, but I must talk to this Unvar. I dislike a possible allaince with a Corsair," he made the word sound like a curse, "but I have no choice if I want answers."

Suddenly he stumbled and only his quick reflexes saved him from falling. He looked down and saw the armless and unconscious form of Mal laying on the ground. He hesitated, for he did not trust this man, but could not leave him there, helpless and alone. Slinging him over his shoulder he started towards the Corsair camp.

As he neared the camp he lay Mal down and bound his wound. "Sorry, but you're staying here for awhile, you'll only get me caught before I want to be." Sneaking through the darkened camp, he made his way towards the large tent in the center. He saw guards in front of the tent and circled around until he was behind it. He heard the voices of several people, but could make out no words, though he did recognize the voice of Unvar. Drawing his dagger from his belt he quickly cut a hole through the tent and stepped through.

Few Ents were looking at her when she feal it. Some powerful magic have been used near. No mortal could weild such power. She let her mind travel the short distance and see The black spire of Isengard. It could only mean that one of the few Maia remaining has attack Saruman, but why ??
She quickly review the few Maia remaining in the nearby region and then she understand, only one of them could have been as foolish to think he can attack Saruman and get away with it. But then not everyone knew Saruman as she does. Then as quickly as it apear the power get away, broken. a smile grow on her face, overconfidence is one of the most dangerous weakness. Much greater being fell to it and he won't be the last one either. But for now greater concern await her.

The old Ent was looking at her when she oppen her eyes. She smile at him, thinking of the last time they've sean each other. they have been both thousand of years younger and it was somehow strange to see him as an old ent while she look just like she did at her 20th birthday. She raise and take her place in the circle and she start the entmooth. Having much to learn about the change that have take place during the last few thousand years.It would take days maybe even week but she have time and one of her proeminent virtues was patience. Her magic will substain her for the duration of the enthmooth. She hope that such a trivial use of her power would pass undetected, especialy when comming from a mgical forest like Fangorn.

Agravigan frowned as he paced back and forth. "But it's useless. How are we going to find any objects in the dead of night? But if we wait for morning, who knows what clues we might find."

Slythre sat down on the same bench that Malagar had previously occupied and looked at Unvar. "It makes sense. We'll spoil any clues that might be there by blundering around after nightfall."

Unvar's hands were steepled and his face was still pale, the lingering effects of his struggle still apparent on his face. "Agravigan has magically enhanced sight. Are there any other tricks to it than long range and ability to see through objects?"

Agravigan stopped pacing and turned towards Unvar. "Perhaps in daylight, but now, I don't think so."

There was a pause. "What you propose makes no sense," Slythre said.

"I know," Unvar said quietly, and with a tinge of defeat in his voice. "I just have a feeling that if we don't go tonight, it won't go well for our cause."

There was a long silence, broken into abruptly by the sound of shredding canvas. The dagger point ripped through the material, tearing a hole, and then a man leapt in.

Agravigan's sword was yanked from it's scabbard and pointed menacingly at the figure. Slythre stood and drew her dagger. Unvar was motionless for a long moment. Than, his fingers parted and he stood up, walking around the chair so that he was facing Faradin directly.

It wasn't hard to see that this man was a ranger, and a Numenorean.

Suddenly, Agravigan's eyes widened in recognition. "Sire, this is the man who cut those soldiers away from the door," He said as he lowered his sword.

"I would like some answers," Faradin said.

Unvar smiled sadly. "Don't we all?"

Heya, Elbreth, hope ya don't mind if I let you show up to help Mal - it would get you back near the rest, and Mal, right now, probably isn't capable of taking care of himself. To put things mildly. ~grin~
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With a gasp, Mal awoke. "Death's face..." he whispered, staring blankly into the darkness, then his eyes darted about, looking for any who might be watching.

He heard voices, but it was as though they were from a long way away.
"This hurts, dammit!" he muttered, then tried to stand. As pain lanced through his body once more, he crumpled to the ground, only holding back from screaming because it would be too much of an effort.

As he trashed on the ground, however, the nearby voices paused, and came seeking through the brush, hearing the commotion he was causing.

Mal finally managed to control the pain, and twisting into a sitting position, with pain splayed across his face, he looked up into the astonished gazes of Narsh and Dania.

He managed to choke out a short gasp for help, before collapsing to the ground, pain flooding through him once more, and blackness covering his vision.

* Thanks Mathron! Xivigg, I'm assuming it's Fangorn you are talking to? Then we will find you soon.*

Swiftly, Dania took over the situation. Kneeling down beside the unconsious Mal, she checked the blood-stained, ragged hole in his tunic where his arm had once been. "Water," she snapped, and the canteen was thrust into her hand. Tearing a few strips from her black cloak, she used one to wash off most of the blood, so the wound could be clearly seen. Soaking the other strips, she held back a wince of her own as she bandaged, very tightly, the raw flesh and bone.
"Should I cut some small trees to make a stretcher?" Came the low, raspy voice of Narsh behind her. The greatest of warriors, he could never stand the sight of so much blood.
Dania nodded, as she rolled up the rest of her cloak and placed it beneath Mal's head, enabling him to breath easier.
Soon the stretcher was built, and between the two of them they lifted Mal onto it.
"We must take him to Fangorn. If anyone, he will know the best way to heal this," spoke Dania, carrying the back of the stretcher. Glancing down at the patient, she noticed he was paler, and he seemed to be in a waking delirium, his eyes open and staring straight up. Without a word, Narsh and Dania quickened their pace.

"If your man would take his sword from my throat I would like to talk to you."

"I am Faradin, a Ranger of the North, and I want to know the real reason a Corsair Lord has left his stronghold and entered the lands of the descendants of Numenor. What is the artifact you seek, and what would drive you into the madness of trying to sneak into Orthanc to take it?"

Unvar's fist smashed into the side of Faradin's head, throwing him to the ground.

"What right do you have to question the Lord of the Corsairs in this way?" He roared. "My affairs are mine alone! What right do you have to break into my own tent and demand answers that are none of your business?"

Faradin rose, his face radiating anger. "Us rangers have made it our business to protect those who are weak, and threatened by evil! Your country has for years sent out ships to slaughter innocent and plunder their possessions!" He regained control of himself with visible effort. "Do you not think that, in view of this, your large army of corsairs would be concern of ours?"

Unvar crossed his arms and took a step back, eyeing the ranger. Perhaps he wasn't such a blustering fool as he'd appeared to be. And now that Unvar thought about it, he remembered the skills of the rangers. This could be a big help to Unvar's plans . . .

"Very well, but if I do give you this information, you must do me a favor in return."

Faradin thought for a moment. "That depends on what it is. I hardly have reason to trust you, you must admit."

Unvar nodded and motioned towards the seats. Then, he began his narrative . . .




. . . When he had finished, Unvar looked at Faradin closely, watching his reactions.

"You want to be rid of me," Unvar said. "And believe me, I would like nothing better than to leave here as well. There are sure to be all sorts of minor uprisings or political turmoil in Umbar over my long disappearance.

"Now, you must fulfill your side of the bargain. Do not worry, I won't ask of you anything against your honor or morals," he added quickly at the look on Faradin's face. "I would simply like your assistance in finding the palantir. I need a ranger's tracking, hunting, and thinking methods on my side."

"Very well, Corsair, you have a deal."

Slythre waited until the moon had sank and it was total and complete blackness outside before making her move. She silently slipped out of bed and dressed, finishing by strapping on her belt, dagger and cloak.

On second thought, I just might need this as well, she thought as she buckled on her sword. She'd not used it in a long time. Never needed to. But this time was different.

Quiet as a ghost, she slipped out of her tent and moved swiftly through the corsair camp. Then, sneaking past the sentries, she disappeared into the gloom. As soon as she was out of sight, she picked up speed, moving across the ground at a rapid pace. She'd have to get there, talk to them, and return before dawn. Luckily Unvar had not begun to suspect her role as double agent yet. If he did, these meetings would be rendered impossible.

Finally she reached it. She banged with her bare fist on the hard, damp wood of the door to the fortress. Not much of a fortress, hastily rigged up, but still in fighting order, and capable of making a strong defense. She banged on the door twice more. Finally it swung open and a dark shape motioned her in.

"I'd like to see Captain Nardran," she said softly.

"This way," the man said, leading her deeper into the complex. They passed through armories, guard rooms and training halls, finally stopping at a room.

"Slythre is here, requesting entrance, sir," he said after knocking.

Nardran opened the door and looked out. "Come on in," he said gruffly, stepping to the side.

She quickly moved past him and entered the room. It was sparsely furnished, lighted by two torches on either side of the wall. She sat down at the table and looked up at him.

He sat down opposite her and smoothed his long brown hair back with a hand. "So what is it that calls you here when I was trying to sleep?"

"All of our previous meetings were held at this hour. It was necessary to maintain my secrecy. But this time is different. I come here not to give information, but to receive it."

He was struck with surprise at the coldness in her voice. "What do you mean?" he asked timidly.

"I know that you're not the commander of this company. And I know that you've been withholding information from me."

Nardran froze. "What information?"

She leaned forward and stared at him with ice in her eyes. "When you sent me out to steal Unvar's palantir from the creature, you never told me how you knew of that the palantir exchange was going to take place. I demand that knowledge now."

"Slythre . . ."

"And another thing. Last time I was here, I overheard two of your men talking about their true commander. I cannot imagine anyone talking with such fear about you. You are not the true commander of this garrison. Bring me to the master!"

Nardran flinched and paled. "You don't know what your saying! Believe me, it would be better for you if these secrets remained secrets. Far better."

"So it's true. These really are purposely with-held peices of information, not oversight. You tricked me into joining your cause and stealing the palantir for you with promises of using it to gain a priceless treasure to use for the greater good. Now, I discover that you've been using me the entire time. What is your real reason?"

Nardran stood and paced the room, his hands behind his back and a look of terrible fear on his face. "Slythre, I cannot tell you. Please, just leave this castle. Never return again. We can spy on Unvar ourselves now that we have the palantir. You've been a great help to us, but now . . ."

"Circumstances have changed, haven't they?" Slythre said as she stood and raised the point of her dagger to Nardran's throat.

Nardran's face hardened. "All right. You insist on having it your way, don't you. Very well, I'll take you to our master. This way," he said as he led her out the door.

They passed deep into the structure and finally came to a stop at a black door with dark iron hinges.

Nardran knocked on the door with his fist.

It instantly swung open and they passed into a large chamber, lit with the lurid red glow of flame. Fire smoldered on the floor of the center of the room, unchecked, yet not destroying the rest of the black scorched chamber. Slythre squinted forwards into the darkness.

"Captain." The word came from a rasping, deep voice, from somewhere around the fire.

"My master," he said, kneeling down.

"Who have you brought with you?"

"My master, it is Slythre, our spy from Unvar's camp. She forced me to bring her before you, and demands to know all."

"Come forward, human woman," came the voice, full of mocking evil.

She hesitated, feeling a flash of fear.

"You wished to meet the master, did you not?" came the voice.

Slythre hesitated. But she knew that it would be foolhardy to do so. She sensed that she was confronted with an evil far greater than she could face and live.

She turned and dashed towards the door, getting within two feet of it before she was tackled to the ground. Hands seized around her arms, legs, waist, neck, and hair. She was filled with pain as she was yanked to her feet and dragged forward by six large orcs, covered from head to foot in battle armor.

"I'm sorry," Nardran said as they passed him. She was drawn directly up to the flame and held before it.

"Very well, now you shall see the master," came the voice.

Nardran bowed his head, looking at the floor as a massive shape rose from the flame as if rising from the maw of hell.

Slythre stared for an instant and then let out a loud, horrible scream, drowned out by the horrible laughter of her tormenter. The balrog's flaming whip curled around her neck and he dragged her forward.

Arvec looked out from the battlements of the fortress. The sky was bleak and gray, broken by jagged mountains that looked like teeth, ready to cut apart any intruder. The ground was brownish gray, dull and hard, as was everything in this place. The Castle Iron Heart was definitely a place of power. Well chosen for it's purpose. Mining. The black mines went deep into the soil, cutting down into the heart of the mountain. In it's depths slaves worked in toil, sweating and dying in misery. It made Arvec's heart ache, but it was not his decision. It was necessary. How else could the work be done? They had already made remarkable progress, the hidden fortress producing as much raw minerals as half the dwarven mines in existence. The weapon factories produced thousands of spears, swords, breastplates, helmets, shields, and every kind of armor and weaponry available. Enough to equip an army. And that was obviously the plan. Although Arvec wasn't permitted into the high council, his work was definitely noted, and it was recent that he'd been promoted to the rank of head supervisor of weapon construction in the fortress. A high honor indeed. Especially that they'd allow him to have it. He was the only elf in the castle.

Arvec took his hands away from the wall and looked up, seeing a great bat swoop out of the clouds towards him. Arvec bit back a feeling of revulsion. He'd never liked the great, horrible creatures. Many times he'd tried to have them replaced as the messengers, but to no avail.

The creature landed on the wall and dropped the scroll from it's grip. Then it stared at him in through it's beastly red eyes.

"Go on, get out," Arvec said, prodding it with the paper.

The beast spat and flew off.

Then Arvec unrolled the scroll. It read thus:

"To Arvec, with my greetings.

"I am greatly pleased with what I hear of your progress, you have indeed helped to fulfill your duties better than any other I could have assigned. Because of this, I know that you will be up to the task about to be assigned you. I would like you to jointly command the construction of a Blasting Delve with Marondras. I know that he is a little bit strange, and has a slightly uneven mind, but I'm afraid it's necessary. He's the only one who has the ability to complete it's construction.

"Sincerely, Captain Nardran."

Arvec looked up in disbelief. What on earth was a Blasting Delve? And with Marondras? He was the last person Arvec would ever like to jointly command a construction project with. He had more than a slightly uneven mind, Arvec would label him insane. But perhaps he would know what a Blasting Delve was. Anyway, orders were orders.

Arvec rolled up the paper and walked down the stone steps, towards the center of Iron Heart.

When Unvar opened his eyes, he saw a stream of sunlight coming through the rip in his tent wall, flooding over him. He raised his hand to block it's glow and sat up on his pallet. He quickly rubbed his eyes and stood. He always slept dressed, and slept lightly. He'd survived two assassination attempts back at Umbar because of his preparedness. Even though, if it was Slythre who'd been the assassin, he didn't know if even his light sleeping would have saved him. She was a big help. So was Agravigan for that matter, but not quite so much.

Unvar quickly opened the flap of his tent and took a couple steps out. He glanced around his camp briefly and then walked over to the tent that the ranger had been given. Quickly opening the flap, he strode in.

"Looking for me?" came a voice from behind him.

Unvar started and whirled around. "Yes, as a matter of a fact I was. Go get Slythre, I'll get Agravigan. We'll start our search at Orthanc, doing that's our best bet."

"Very well," Faradin said, quickly disappearing in the general bustle of the camp.

Unvar got Agravigan and walked back towards the tent. There he met Faradin.

"Where's Slythre?" Unvar asked.

"She wasn't in her tent."

"Blast. Very well, than time you proved your abilities. Let's track her down."

Faradin scowled, but agreed. They went back to her tent, and after a while, Faradin found her prints. She would have been impossible to track, had it not been for the combined powers of Faradin's experience and Agravigan's eyesight. Soon they'd tracked her to the edge of the camp, and then the prints continued off into the distance, still very faint, but possible to follow.

Unvar was frowning. "What on earth was she doing out here?"

Faradin shrugged. "But at least the tracks are easier to follow. It was nearly impossible in the camp, mixed with everyone else's."

"She'd better have a good explanation when we find her. I cannot have one of my best agents sneaking off into the brush without informing me."

"She would have had to have gone in the night, otherwise she'd have been noticed," Agravigan noted.

But Unvar wasn't listening. He was staring off into the distance blankly.

"My lord?" Agravigan asked.

Unvan snapped out of it. "What? Oh, yes, let's carry on."

"What is it?" Faradin asked sharply.

Unvar shook his head briefly. "Well, when I was gazing into the palantir of Orthanc, I saw all around the camp, the forest, the whole terrain. Well, I just remembered that a few miles in this direction is a castle."

They stared at him.

"A makeshift one, quickly built. That was the only thing out here in this direction."

"So she was probably going to it?"

Unvar's eyes flared in anger. "Yes. Slythre has been operating with both me and another group." A look of cold fury filled his face, and then hardened into a set expression. "Come, let's go back to the camp. We'll have the whole force go with us. I believe that all of our ends will connect at that castle."

His whole being appeared changed, a glint of infuriated obsession filling his features and making him appear as if possessed. His cloak swirled about him as he whirled around and hurried back towards the camp. Agravigan hurried after his lord, but Faradin knew enough. As they walked towards the camp, he fell further behind, and suddenly dropped down in the brush, slipping away from the others, and vanishing in the tall grass.

With a start, Malagar came to.
The pain was gone for a moment, and he fancied he could still feel it, but when he clutched at it with his remaining hand, nothing was there.

With a sigh, he looked up, staring into the face of one of the tree creatures. Standing anxiously by its side was Dania, and by her stood Narsh.

The tree being - the ent - spoke a number of words in its slow, booming tongue, and Dania translated, "He says that you were very lucky to survive the wound, and the fall from the tower. Almost anyone else would have died."

"I've always been lucky," muttered Malagar, but subsumed his anger - these were not to blame, and all things considered, things could have ended much worse, he thought. "My thanks for aiding me, and healing me," and here he nodded to the ent.

Then Mal senses something, from behind him, and though he allowed no indication to show upon his face, he slowly turned about, to stare at the elven lady standing in the woods behind him. No elf of middle-earth, this, but apparently one from the isle of the Valar - and a memory drifted through Mal's mind, for it seemed he may have seen this elf during one of his hidden visitations to the Valar's home.

He shrugged that thought away, and wondered instead why this being was here.

"Greetings, my lady, my name is Malagar D'Orthand. I would rise to greet you, but fear I am still not overly well," and with a chuckle, gestured at his empty sleeve.

Faradin made his way through the forest carefully but quickly. He had decided to head towards the Entmoot and help that someone would be there, maybe those two elves, Dania and Narsh.

As he made his way across a clearing he stopped cold. There was a trip-wire right across the clearing, and he saw that he was standing in the middle of a net.

He stepped back quickly, and just in time for the net snapped up and his right foot was caught just enough to take him off his feet. He rose to his knees to see a sword blade held to his throat. Following the blade he saw that an orc held it. Before the orc could react he spun and kicked out, the orc stumbled back, but did not lose it's grip on it's blade. Sweeping his own Rivendell-forged blade from it's sheath he swung at the orc and felled it. At a sudden sound from his left he whirled and saw three orcs rushing at him. He quicly sidestepped the lead one and kicked at it's back; it flew past him and he swung at one of the other's head, nearly decapitating it. Whirling back to his left he thrust with his sword and took the last orc neatly in the heart. Then he felt a pain in his side and cursed as he stumbled backward. The orc that he had knocked past him had recovered and held it's own blade ready. Faradin, strong with his fury, both at himself for forgetting the last orc and at the orc itself, knocked the orc's blade from his hand and killed it.

He stooped and examined the blade closely. "At least it wasn't poisoned, and the wound is not deep, I will care for it when I arrive at the Entmoot." He kept the blade and grabbed a helm from another of the orcs and contiuned on his way.

He stumbled into the Entmoot just in time to hear Mal make his statement. "Then get well soon," tossing his tokens on the ground he growled, "there are orcs in Fangorn forest." He stopped and stared for an instant as he saw a vision of Elven loveliness. He dropped to his knees and bowed, "Forgive me my lady, for I knew not that you were here. You are surely one of those that had bathed in the light of the two trees, before their darkening by Morgoth. Will you aid me, for with your aid we will surely be victorious."

Slythre's arms were full of a dull, throbbing ache. Her wrists were clasped in chains against the wall, over her head. A firey pain filled her whole body whenever she moved, bringing back horrible memories of the balrog. But at last her torture had ceased, and she'd been dragged away from the it's lair. Then she'd been searched and thrown back here, in a cell, out of the way, no longer important and to be forgotten. She was still amazed at her luck in surviving the terrible encounter. Or perhaps it wasn't so lucky. They'd burned her elven cloak, of course, and all her weapons were gone. No one would find her here. Ever.

She frowned. No, she would not give up! That was one of the first rules Unvar had drilled into her when helping in grooming her as his personal agent, with Agravigan. But this thought just sent another wave of shame and fresh pain through her. She'd betrayed her commander. She'd thought she was working for the greater good, doing something worthwhile for once in her life, but no. She'd ended up working for a balrog, and betraying her commander, earning a well deserved hatred.

Slythre lowered her head, a sob bursting from her throat.

The jailor laughed mockingly.

The balrog's red eyes narrowed in rage. "What have you done, you fool! I did not want our presence known of, yet you send orcs into the forest!"

"My master," Nardran said, quivering with fear. "We sent no orcs out. I know not who those were, but I can promise you that . . ."

The whip slashed down, tearing into his back and knocking him to the ground, screaming in agony. The tip of the whip flicked up, slashing across his face as the balrog pulled the whip back.

"Do not lie to me!"

Nardran's body remained crumpled on the ground where it had fallen.

"My master?" came a timid voice from one of his captains.

The balrog's fierce gaze turned on the barracks master, who quivered with fright under the gaze and took a couple steps backward.

"What?" he roared.

"The troops are all accounted for, my master!" the man squeaked. "The orcs still in their positions!"

"Then who the devil are they?" he asked himself quietly, looking into the palantir and staring at the orcs. It was then that he noticed the inhabitants of the Entmoot. He stared balefully at them for a moment, and then his eyes widened. It was Syntia! And also the bloody corpse lying there, swathed in bandages was also recognizable. What were two Maia doing here? Had they gotten wind of his plan? Or were they after the Book of Secrets themselves? Either way, they would have to be looked to. The balrog snarled angrily as the elven lady sensed his gaze and glanced around nervously. He tore his eyes away from the group. That would have to wait. Even now, Unvar and his army were marching at a rapid pace towards his castle. He cursed his bad luck. Why did all his enemies have to be converging on him now?

"Position all of our troops at combat positions," he ordered his generals. "Get every man and orc into a position of the best advantage." His eyes filled with a mad light as he stared off into the palantir, seeing Unvar and his force marching forward. "I want them to feel our wrath."

For a long time Syntia said nothing, a sad look on her face as she'd remember the glories of the elder day, tosing everyone now stooding in the entmooth, a she elven ranger, an elven warrior, the broken maia and now a numenorian ranger. Something odd was happening here. For a moment she feal as if someone was watching her, then it was gone.

- Old friend, those orcs must be taken care of. Would you do it for me please ??

Those were the first word the two elves and the human hear from her, her soft musical voice was entrancing. Even while she had only whisper, everyone have hear her as if she had been talking directly to them, directly to their heart. In this short moment more has been said than what could be heard. Only at that moment did they begin to guess what power she could wield.

For Mal, the sound of her voice bring back memory from a past long forgotten, to a day when his power could conceal someone from even the great Valar. To a day when he was saved from his cell in angband by a younger Syntia, but it wasn't her name at the time. Together they done what was though impossible. It was more a circonstancial alliance than something else but at that moment he had feal as if together they could do anything. He realise that she was looking at him.

-Your involvement here puzzle and affraid me Malagor. Are you here for yourself or are you working for someone greater than you are ??

Then she turn her attention to the human ranger. She look at him for a long time and said

-Your knoledge of what happen before the human walk the earth is admirable. *At that point she smile softly* I've learn a long time ago not to involve myself in matter not of my concern. But maybe i can help you, tell what concern you and how you've all end up together, i've got the fealing you're presence here isn't just a coincidence.

Dania nodded at Sytia's words, she could feel it too.
"All this seems more than just coincidence, when have such people ever met together before? Hasn't it always been during a time when Middle Earth needs help? Has been in dire trouble?"
Dania could see she'd suprised some of those around her, but Narsh beside her nodded silently.
"We may not trust eachother, and probably some of that mistrust has a very good reason. None of us knows exactly why the other is here, or who they work for. I think we all agree though that there is something going very wrong with Middle Earth, and somethig must be done about it. Could we start there? What are your thoughts?" Dania looked causiously from one face to the other, some masking thier emotions, others as readable as a book. She knew she'd taken a hunge chance, and it might turn out to hurt everyone by doing so. She hoped it wouldn't though, because this was her last hope.

The first flight of corsair archers flew into the air, cutting cutting a half dozen defenders off the wall.

"Back! Be more careful you worm eaten slime!" roared their orc captains. "The master will have your heads for your carelessness, even if the enemy don't!"

The second flight only wounded two, and their were no deaths. The soldiers ducked behind their shields as the next flight deflected away without harming anyone. However, the cover was keeping them down, and giving the corsair foot soldiers time to move a battering ram forward. Cut from Fangorn, it was one of the trees that wasn't alive, but even so, it had been very difficult to take it and come back alive. The ents were not pleased.

Unvar smiled as the battering ram smashed against the gates, weakening it's quickly constructed hinges.

Another orc was picked off the wall, and two others wounded. The hastily constructed trench of the corsairs was working for them, and their numbers and experience were getting the better of the inept defenders.

Torches were used to help melt and weaken the hinges of the doors, and in a few more blows, the door was torn off it's hinges and thrown down. The corsairs gave a cry of triumph and moved forward . . . right into the wave of fire that swept down the hillside, sweeping away the attackers.

"Pull back!" Unvar yelled to his screaming force as they fled the wave of fire.

The men scrambled out of the trench just as the fire swept in, making it a river of fire. But it stopped there, and out of the doorway charged the balrog, leading his best warriors. He had used the same strategy in miniature that Melkor had in the great siege of Angband, and it had worked just as effectively. He leapt the trench and lashed the legs of two soldiers with his whip. Then, heaving his flaming sword in both hands, he smashed into the enemy ranks, filling them with terror. His four orc captains came shortly behind him, finishing off the wounded that he left in his wake.

"Reassemble, and target the balrog!" Unvar roared, but, getting no response, he took the initiative himself, getting in the beast's path with his guards. He flung himself at the beast, his sword cutting a chunk out of it's leg, and then ripping a jagged line across it's side. It whirled in fury, catching him around the head with it's whip and crushing the helmet into smoldering shreds. He pealed it off quickly and deflected a blow from an orcish blade, ducking backwards as he did. The balrog's great blade cut a path for it as it pursued Unvar. He didn't make it wait long. Seizing his black shield and roaring in wrath, he lunged at his opponent, slashing and ducking, swerving and dodging. The beast roared in anger, fire gushing from it's main and even flaring from the edges of it's nostrils and mouth. Lunging forward it leapt upon Unvar. His sword pierced into it's chest up to the hilt, and it smashed down upon him, crushing him to the ground.

All he could see was blood, fire and the horrible hide of the beast. Then it disappeared as the beast reared up in agony, clawing at the sword which it had impaled itself on. It ripped the blade from it's body and stumbled backwards. The orcish captains paused and stepped back, fear put into them by the retreat of their leader.

The army of the balrog fell back in dismay. The beast hissed through it's jaws to it's captains, "Retreat back to the fortress."

"Retreat!" the word echoed through the orcish force and they fled.

Quickly seeing their sudden advantage, the captains of Unvar decided to act as they knew their leader would, and soon what had appeared to be a defeat was turned into a great victory as the enemy were cut down as they ran, or picked off by the swarms of arrows that fell upon their force. But soon the enemy had gotten in, and heavily armored pikemen held off the corsairs at the gate. Then, as boulders began to be dropped down from the top, these corsairs were also pulled back, and the army moved out of range.




Unvar opened his eyes and winced in pain. Glancing around, he saw that the battle had ended. The enemy wounded had been slaughtered and those of the corsairs were being dragged away to be healed. If he could judge by the massive losses of the enemy leading back up the charred soil to their own gate, it had a great victory. They had been routed.

Unvar smiled briefly; his captains had done well. Horrible aches filled his body from the crushing weight of the balrog and he groaned. If he'd been underneath for long, he'd have been crushed to death. He staggered back to his camp and stopped at the flap of his tent, where he heard voices coming from.

"I don't know what Lord Unvar was trying to get so hard anyway. None of us really do, we only have our own theories. He's surely dead, and with him, I say his quest dies too."

"How do you know he's dead?" came another voice. "We shouldn't leave our ruler unless we're certain. Only then, will we take the appropriate action."

"But I saw him lashed around the head with the whip!"

"I'm very much alive," Unvar said, entering the tent. He fixed his eyes on the speaker who's face paled. "Scorched and broken, but I've come out alive. I always have, no matter what the odds. That's why you have gathered around me. I am pleased with how you finished the battle, but I will stand for no treasonous talks like the one I've just heard."

"My lord," the corsair fell to his knees, "You see no treason here, sire!"

"You will have a chance to prove it, Ingard. For you shall help me lead our next offensive."

"It will be an honor, my lord!"

"Get up. We have won a great victory today, and I do not intend to have it wasted. Now let's plan our next attack."

As he remembered the short time he had spent with this one, and the service she had rendered him, Mal sighed softly.
It had been there, in the grasp of the Dark One, where he had began to lose his power. It was there he had started on the path that led him hear.

"I am here for me, Syntia, I am simply here for me."
His words were quiet, soft, but what the others did not see or here was the rest of the unspoken connection he sent to Syntia - and gazing upon him, she felt his immense sense of loss and weakness, and the urgent, driving force to regain his lost strength that had become the most powerful purpose in his life.

He turned his head away, closing his soul off once more, uncomfortable he had shown so much - he, once hailed as the Master of Secrets...

When Dania went on to talk, Mal's interest was drawn back to the conversation. What she said... and the presence of the Other atop Saruman's tower... things did, indeed, start to fit together.
As well, there had been rumors, many tales being told while he had been searching for his own lost items... of another who was seeking something lost long ago... and rebuilding his strength.

"The question is," Mal spoke up, still in soft tones, "where are we supposed to be? And what purpose have we been gathered together for?" Mal trailed off, and then a thought hit him, of Unvar and the ranger, and looking up, with a burning gaze, staring into Dania's face, he said, "And we are not the only ones that have been driven by circumstances into this forest of late - where are the others?"

A troubled look crossed Dania's features, but was gone almost before it could be noticed. "I'm not sure, I haven't seen hide nor hair of them for a while. Which worries me. I don't think they are still in the forest, or I would have heard or seen something at least. But they are close, I don't know that Faradin would leave completely without at least giving us an idea of why he was going. He was as concerned as I was about the strange things going on."
Narsh stepped forward, though he hardly ever spoke, there was a good reason when he did, and everyone listened carefully. "It would seem we have a choice," his voice rasped, an effect of the scar across his throat, "we could wait here to see what has become of them, go on without them, or go and find them. We must keep in mind, they may have fallen into the hands of our unknown enemy. Whoever he is, he could know more about us than we know." His piece said, Narsh stepped back into the shadows to await a reaction.