Of Wraiths and Kings, and Friends and Rings (Calling All Nazgul)

[Telcontar_Dunedain]

"I was sent there," replied Khamûl, now speaking slightly quieter than usual. No one was around, but it came from habit.
"By who? The Morgul Lord, the Dark Lord?" asked Udu, his face showing a mixture of awe and worry.
"You believe the Dark Lord lives?" said Khamûl quickly and aggresivley.
"I do not know. he was powerful, but you saw what happened," replied Udu. Secretly he had thought the Dark Lord may have survived, but Khamûl's words dismissed that thought.
"The Morgul Lord sent me. I was sent to check for the ash nazg," continued Khamûl. "It was a long and wearisome adventure. I had been there nigh on a year when you found me."
"A year. It would not take that long to scour the Gadden."
"Scour it? Nay Udu, that was but a small part of my mission, which I finished ere the end of the first month."
"Then what? The Gladden is uninhabitable, the nearest occupants are the elves of Greenwood, and they would have realised that Isildur fled with the One," replied Udu, not giving Khamûl a chance too finish his sentence.
"Little do you know Udu. You rarely ventured North, your business was in the South, in Umbar and Harad. Orcs lived in and around the Gladden thousands of them, and they are prone to steal things which they shouldn't. I often ventured North, and was known by the Orc chiefs of that land so the Morgul Lord thought I would be ideal for the mission. But during the War I had changed an so had the Orc Chiefs. It took three months of hard work to regain their trust and respect. I had word sent through the Misty Mountains, and within a month the Chiefs of most of the parties of Orcs and their armies were gathered near the Gladden. Fortunatley most understood the Black Speech so I swiftly recieved the news which I didn't want to hear. No Orcs had recovered the One, but one Chief did have some interesting news. Apparently his father and his archers had shot at Isildur. They say his body just appeared in the water, as it hadn't been there before. He says his father wasn't sure how many hit Isildur, but at least one did. Before a group of Orcs could be sent over to plunder the valuables Isildur was carrying an army of elves from Greenwood attacked them, and all were either killed or fled."
"Well that's is only five months. I presume you searched the shore where Isildur was shot which would not have taken long. Yet you say it took you a year," said Udu, slightly confused.
"Surely you don't think I kept them alive. You know what Orcs are like. Tell them something remotley important and it will spread like a wild fire. Within another year the news would have reached Harad, and possibly from there to Gondor. If that had happened all of Middle-earth would have been hunting for the most powerful object to ever see these shores. Six months of slauhgter and of hunting," replied Khamûl.
"Six months? But I thought that the armies were gathered near the Gladden," answered Udu.
"They did not stay where they were," spat Khamûl. "Orcs are cowards. They only fight if they know that death will come to them if they don't. They fled, noth, east, south and west. And there were hundreds of them, perhaps a thousand even. I had killed all Orcs in the Gladden with a week, but hunting? Nay, Tolvadok and yourself were always more skilled in that department. I relished battles and face to face brawls, not hunting. Few had fled east into the grasp of Thranduil, yet I pursued them first. I did not need Thranduil's kingdom knowing that thre was an Ulari within two days march of their borders. I went quickly, hoping to overtake them before they reached Greenwood the Great and the kingdom of Thranduil. After a fortnight of hunting I returned to the Gladden and headed soth along the Misty Mountains and then North, killing all Orcs camps I came across. I had seen no elves so presumed that I had done well near Greenwood. I then made a loong journey West, until I reached the Greyflood where a strong force had assembled. Fortunatley I had the power of my Ring and after a hard fight returned to the Gladden. It is then that I saw ....." Khamûl broke off short and hissed quietly to Udu.
"What?" said Udu, know using mind speech.
"The Chancellor, but he is not alone. There is a mortal with him aswell."

[sun-star]

Oreturion chose a table as far away as possible from the noisy debate Marthalion had left, and ordered some wine for them both. They sat down.
"It makes a change for you to be buying me a drink," Marthalion said with a grin. "You must have something really important to say."
Oreturion did not smile, but he inclined his head in acknowledgement of the joke. "Perhaps I should not be encouraging you – you seem to have been drinking already."
"Just catching up with some friends," Marty said, cheerfully unrepentant, since he inferred from his friend’s tone that the remark was not meant unkindly. "I wouldn’t have expected to find you in this place, though."
"I thought I might meet with you here. I tried several similar establishments nearby in the hope of finding you, but without success. After we had not seen you for a while, I became concerned for your safety – but clearly my fears were groundless." The wine arrived at this moment, and Oreturion poured out glasses for both of them. Marty stared at the older man curiously.
"Well, it’s nice to know you worry about me!� he said at last. "But this is a busy town, it’s easy for people to miss each other. What on earth did you think could have happened to me?"
Oreturion returned his gaze steadily. "I hardly know. Several incidents in the past few days have made me uneasy, and perhaps I have let them preoccupy me unduly. Obviously you are safe and well, for which I am glad. But since we have finally met again, I may as well take the opportunity to ask – have you noticed anything unusual recently? You have explored the town more thoroughly than I have, I think."

[The last sane person]

Marthalion thought for a bit and sipped the wine, "Good stuff, thanks Oreturion." The older relavtive gave a small smile and sipped some of his own wine. "I cannot say that I have really seen anything out of the ordinary...Right before the rochdol game there was a strange empty carriage Valandil, Raendil and I had to put a halt too...that was a bit strange mind you." Oreturion nodded, that incident was known to him.

"Well, we met a nice family in tharbad, they too are going to school here...Nothing terribly strange about them...save that there are two very pretty maidens there. One which has caught Ray's eyes..." Marty grinned.

"And you are not so interested? That comes as a surprise Marthalion." Indeed, Oreturion was surprised, he had fully expected to find young marty neck deep in trouble and drink at the dirtiest of taverns. Well, perhaps I am judging the boy too harshly

"No, not interested, I am trying to clean up my act," marty nodded to the wine he was drinking, "Dont worry, I've only barely gotten through a mug of beer. The debates are quite fun, and tis all in good cheer with this bunch. More of it gets spilled while arguing over whatever than drunk."

Oreturion raised an eyebrow. He believed him, after all, he could still see Marty's barely finished tankard on the table near Shah, and noticed how the pub's patrons were still talking and laughing, making the beer stretch for quite a while. The boy is cleaning up his act. I wonder why...

"Cleaning up your act Marty? I must say, this comes as a pleasent surprise." He poured himself another glass and Marty was quiet for a while. "Yes, I guess I am. I can't be a scallywag all the time. Besides...I am to be a prince, one day, I suppose, I have to make a good impression on people."

And the first batch i intend to impress are Miri's parents! Marty finished his wine, "I will gladly keep my eye out if anything strikes me as undually odd. I already know you worry your grey beard white over King Valandil's head." marty grinned and leaned back, and watched the debates. "Hmm, looks as though the ones supporting the Noble of Tharbad seem to be winning."

"What, what noble is this?"

"Oh nothing cousin, just some new 'ghost'. Some thought it was a fallen noble of Gladden, the others think its a noble of Tharbad." Marty grinned at Oreturions rueful smile. "Well, ever the fallen will be claimed." Oreturion nodded and stood up to go. "I'm comming with, I have notes to write up." Marty went over and gave his goodbyes to Shah, Barli, Karin and the others and walked out of the Guardsman's Ale house with Oretution, both putting on their cloaks.

"My, my, Marty, I must admit I am pleased to see this sudden turn around. Taking studies seriously, not going to these less than reputable pubs...toning down the drink! I hope you do keep it up!" The both walked towards Valandil's place, and Marty laughed.

"Its not so sudden, but dont get your hopes up, I'm in no way going to be as square as Val!"

"Well, my father always told me to be thankful for what you get, so I suppose these changes are good enough."

[Udukhaturz]

“A mortal?� Udu growled to Khamûl in thought-speech. “Why would he bring a mortal?�

“That, my friend, is something I do not know. We shall wait and see, shall we not?�

“Probably another one of the long line of fawning sycophants who follow the Morgul Lord around, hoping to receive some favor or reward!� Udu replied in thought-speech.

Their discussion on the “why� of the Chancellor’s bringing Sapthan was interrupted by the appearance of the Morgul Lord at the door. A tall, gray-eyed man with a neat black beard, obviously of Numenorean descent, closed the door behind the two.

“Professor Galadunnun, Professor Maethor, I would like you both to meet an old esteemed acquaintance of mine, the assistant librarian, Sapthân. Since you, Professor Galadannun and Sapthan will be working closely together in the library, I thought tonight might be a good time for you two to meet. Sapthan knows the library as well as he knows the location of books on his shelves.�

Udu looked at Khamûl and Khamûl looked to Udu.

“Hail, Sapthan,� Khamûl greeted.

“An honor to meet you, sir,� Udu replied.

“I am sure we will get along very well, Professor Galadannun.. pleased to meet you, Professor Maethor.� Sapthân bowed, trying to hide his thoughts behind a pleasant smile.

“So this is the man,� Sapthân thought, “who has robbed me of the position which is rightfully mine! Now I am supposed to be quite respectful and polite to him, helping him even, showing him the library - my domain! - quite a lot to ask.� Sapthân set his face in a mask of pleasant felicity which would have been believable were he not facing three of the Ulairi. Though he had been long skilled at the art of deception, he had underestimated Khamûl, considering him the lesser of the two of them.

“Would you gentlemen like to join me in a tour of the library tonight?� Sapthân smiled, almost simpering.

[Gordis]

Minas Aran, Monday after 9 PM.

"I think, Sapthân, it is far too late for the tour of the Library," intervened the Chancellor coldly. "It is dark outside, and I would not allow candles or lanterns in there. The books are too valuable to put them at risk."

Sapthan looked disappointed. The Chancellor approached, and put his hand on Sapthan’s shoulder, smiling down at him. The Black Numenorean was tall, but still noticeably shorter than the Chancellor.

"I trust you will show the Library to Professor Galadannun first thing tomorrow. No one can do that better than you. Go now and rest. Don’t stay awake with your books, old friend".

Sapthan’s face lightened. He bowed to the three Professors and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The three nazgul waited till they heard Sapthan’s footfalls die in the hall below. The front door was opened and closed, and all was silent. The Library was empty, but for them.

"Come. I am going to show you the dungeons of Minas Aran", invited the Chancellor. "We need no mortals there".

The Morgul Lord turned and left the Librarian’s apartment. Just beyond the heavy oak door was a magnificent gilded staircase. To Khamûl’s and Udu’s surprise, the Chancellor passed the wide straight stair leading to the Hall; instead, he unlocked another heavy door, opposite the one to Galadannun’s rooms, and entered a long gallery with vaulted ceiling, supported by elegant stone columns with a flower motive. In daytime, the gallery must have been bathed in light, as there were many high windows along the front wall of the Tower, but now there was almost complete darkness. The trio, however, had no difficulty to observe the surroundings and to pick their way with ease.

"What are those statues at the far walls?" asked Khamûl, indicating two looming shapes at the ends of the gallery.

The Morgul Lord laughed. " It is evident that you have never been in Gondor, Lord Khamûl. These are Isildur and Anarion. The matching statue of Elendil is down in the Hall. Gondoreans put them on every corner, and it seems that Arnoreans do likewise. Nothing of interest, actually. Too large for good taste, almost three rangar high, and crudely executed. Late Numenorean decadence art." The Chancellor made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

Turning right, the Morgul Lord walked towards the statue of Isildur, giving explanations over his shoulder.

"When I came here three years ago, these two statues were in the corners of the Entrance Hall, by the far wall. The Entrance Hall occupied all the ground level of the Tower. But I grew tired of the multitude of students coming to the Library to fetch most trivial books, so I organised the Public Library downstairs. I invited a team of Moria dwarves to make some renovations. A wall was built across the Main Hall, and a back entrance to the Tower was opened. Now the Public library downstairs has no connection with the Main one upstairs, and the flow of people in the Library diminished greatly."

"But the most important thing was done with these statues. It was very hard to haul them here, even for the dwarves. My knowledge of engineering was of some help. Now each of the statues conceals a door to a stair. Anarion back there" - the Chancellor waved to the far end of the gallery - "blocks a door to the Library Stair, so the only access left is from the Main Hall. But Isildur here" – the Morgul Lord smiled and indicated the huge statue in front of them – "Isildur guards the only entrance to the dungeons that I left, though no one can guess it is there. This door is dwarven-made; it is operated by a spell in their secret language. It is enough to whisper the spell almost inaudibly. Listen well, to remember the words.

"Bunkus sharik ai-khazad kabed zirgal!"

As the nazgul watched in wonder, a vertical fissure appeared in the wall on the left of the statue. The whole section of the wall, as well as the statue, rotated silently, until a dark opening appeared. The chancellor stepped onto the stair, Khamûl and Udu following. The steps led down, while the section of the stair leading up was blocked by heavy masonry.

"What about those dwarves?" asked Udu. What if they start talking?"

The Morgul Lord’s cold voice answered "You must know by now, Lord Udukhatûrz, that I never take chances, if I can avoid it. I paid them handsomely for their work in the Library and they went home happy. Unfortunately, the gold they were carrying proved to be their undoing. I heard they were attacked by robbers on their way home. All the dwarves were slain, and the gold taken. These are cruel times indeed," concluded the Chancellor humorously.

Udu and Khamûl, impressed by the Captain’s story, nodded approvingly.


Soon they entered the first level of the dungeons. It was a maze of small and large cells, long unused, the heavy iron grids open, old chains and locks rusted. Udu’s eyes lighted when he saw a rack and some ancient torture tools lying on a stone bench in a nearby cell.

"Don’t beam so widely, Udu," laughed the Chancellor. "There is nothing of interest here. All the equipment that could be salvaged is kept lower in the dungeons. Here everything is too rusted to be of any use. This level only serves to dissuade the intruders from coming lower….And, yes, meet Adunuzîr, the local guardian"

They all felt, rather than saw, a ghostly shape approaching. To see better, the nazgul used their Rings to meet the newcomer in the Word of Shadows.

The ghost was tall, but terribly thin, almost a skeleton, the bulging hungry eyes wild, the swollen tongue hanging from the mouth. Rusted chains were attached to his wrists and ankles. The ghost approached and bowed low before the Morgul Lord.

"Adunuzîr, the Black Numenorean, was once a rightful ruler of these lands, a King’s man," explained the Chancellor. "He knew his duty to Numenor and to his King, so rebelled against the "Faithful" traitors, who wished to take this land as their own. Elendil the Accursed put him in this dungeon to die of thirst and starvation. Adunuzîr vowed not to quit the Circles of the World before the hour of his vengeance. Now he is in my service. He has no body, but still he can cause fear in any mortal."

With a nod, the Morgul Lord dismissed the ghost, saying, "If you guard the dungeons well, Adunuzîr, perhaps I will help you to find a body to dwell in".

Then they went lower, to the second level of the dungeons. There were several locked rooms. The Chancellor indicated the Weapons storage, the Poisons storage, the Treasury. A door locked by a strong spell led to the Morgul Lord’s laboratory. He didn’t let them inside.

Then the Chancellor entered a room with a single table, strewn with scrolls and bottles of curious shapes. In the corner was a fireplace; warmth still radiated from the ashes. In the centre was a large stub of black rock, its surface smooth and glittering. The sensitive nostrils of the three nazgûl flared: the smell of recently spilled blood was hanging in the stale air, thick and cloying. But it was neither human, nor Elven blood.

"What is this place for?" asked Khamûl. "And who kills animals here?"

"It is your assistant Librarian, Sapthân", answered the Morgul Lord. "It is his study. He is too interested in Black magick for his own good. He tries to master what pitiful spells are accessible to mortals. All of us have tried the same in our time…
I let him be, and pretend to be unaware of his most disreputable activities. He has no idea that I can smell blood keener than a hound, of trace a whiff of a spell in the air. He believes I am another mortal… Let him think so. He is devoted to me, and I need him for the Library."

With that the Chancellor led the others upstairs and locked the secret door with the dwarven spell.

"Now, my lords, it is getting late. I trust you to lock the Tower properly, Lord Khamûl. I wish you both goodnight."

[Udukhaturz]

The hour was still early when Sapthân said his farewell to the Chancellor and the two professors, Galadannun and Maethor.

“Dismissed so easily,� he thought as he returned to his room. He considered calling a servant and asking for a pot of tea to be brewed in the kitchen, but he was in no mood for tea at the moment.

“Professor Galadannun,� he thought with resentment. “He has usurped my position, and there is nothing I can do about it!� Closing his eyes, Sapthân stood in the middle of his room and clenched his fists tightly. Then he fell to his knees, and, raising his hands into the air, he began to chant, “Oh Great Power of the Eternal Darkness, heed my humble plea! I have been denied my rightful position as head librarian! Smite my enemy and drive him forth into the darkness!�

He slumped forward, resting his hands on the floor. “There is no answer! How can it be! The Master of Darkness has turned His face from me and will not speak!�

He knew what he must do. However, there were visitors in the library and he did not want to risk meeting them again on his way to the “Secret Place.� Instead, he rose to his feet and went to a small chest. Opening it, he pulled out a dagger, its hilt marked with runes in a dark language and dedicated to the Power of Darkness, and a golden ewer.

Sapthân kissed the dagger and then threw off his robes. He slashed himself across his chest and winced as he felt the blade cut into his skin. He cut over old scars long healed and new ones fresh from the last time he had done his dark rituals. He entreated the Dark Power again as he watched the blood oozing into the ewer. The blood sizzled as he poured it into the fireplace.

Surely the Power of Darkness would understand, he thought. Sapthân poured out a pitcher of water and dampened a cloth, wiping out the ewer. He cleaned his dagger on another cloth and put dagger and ewer away.

He needed more time to meditate. After dressing, he walked out of his apartment in the palace and went to the fountain at the southwest corner of the library. Sitting down upon a bench, he looked up to the heavens and wondered if the Dark God he followed look down upon him from the Void.

[Rían]

late Monday night, Tharbad and the University

Alagos walked noiselessly through the streets of Tharbad, his senses on alert, keeping to the shadows. The last 24 hours had been filled with so many events, so many emotions ... and some hints of mysteries ... that his warrior's sense of watchfulness would not let him sleep. His sword was loosened in its sheath, and his dagger was hidden in his hand.

"You're overreacting, you know," he told himself, but the pricking in his skin told him otherwise. "Well, one cannot have too much information," he reflected, "and I can't sleep, anyway," and he continued his search (for what, he knew not, but if one doesn't search, one usually doesn't find - or one is found, and usually at a disadvantage. He preferred to be the finder, not the found.)

He came up to the University and slipped quietly in among the shadows. As he walked noiselessly around, he was amazed to see the noctural activity there out of the corners of his eyes - things harmless, and things not so harmless - things careless of humans, and things hungry for humans. The human blood in him rose up in fear ("I imagine there aren't too many servants wandering around these grounds at night!" he thought) but the elven blood ran strong in him and overruled the fears. RÃ*an, whose mind was more like the Eldar than his, would be able to see these things better, but RÃ*an would also be less able to control her fear.

He stopped under a tree, invisible to human eyes with his dark cloak and even darker hair, half-closed his eyes, and listened.

[Valandil]

As Valandil strode swiftly down the all-too-quiet streets of Tharbad, a growing sense of unease gripped him. What if Oreturion WAS right… that he was in some sort of danger? Was it really wise to let himself be caught alone like this? Most university students didn’t wear their great swords around with them, but as King, perhaps he should start to do so. For tonight anyway, he had only his gentleman’s dagger, and his wits. The streets were mostly deserted as well as dark, however, and he did have his cloak and hood about himself now. He might almost go unrecognized to the casual observer – but for his great height. This part of the city seemed to be mostly sleeping by now.

No sign of Marty either…

But there, up ahead, came a figure, walking toward him. He paused at first, but then a lump rose to his throat as he recognized the other, and he softly called them by name.

“Eärniel!�

She did not pause, for she had caught sight of him already, but stepped right up to him and gave a slight bow, with a smile, both of which he returned.

“Out late at night again, are you, oh High King?� she said with amusement.

“It does seem an ideal way to meet you, dear Lady of Nîn in Eilph,� responded Valandil, and failing to fully suppress his growing smile. “Although each occasion of our meeting seems to end with an untimely interruption. I was just on my way back home after seeing you at the Red Herring earlier this evening. Tell me though please, what are you about? For surely you have gone someplace and are now going to another.�

“Well,� she laughed lightly, “I have taken Rian and her brother Alagos to share my lodgings with me, but all seemed restless tonight. I thought that a walk along the River might ease my own mind, and remind me of the waters flowing through my own Land.�

“That sounds good!� he replied, “and the River is only two blocks away. Might I join you?� the search for Marty appeared fruitless anyway – and a walk with Earniel much more appealing and hopefully more promising.

“Yes… you may join me. How is your ankle?� she asked, her eyes twinkling.

“My ankle is just fine thank you. I think a bit more walking will do it some good.�

So they walked to the river, and along the waterfront at the higher end of town – not by the docks and quays, but in the walkway above the bridge, close enough that the sound of the water could be heard cascading over the spillway just beyond that great bridge. They talked and laughed in low voices together as they walked. At last they came to a small outcropping with an overlook both up and down the river. There they stopped and stood side-by-side, leaning on the stone railing before them. They spoke a little more and then were silent for a long time. At last their silence was broken.

“Music!� said Valandil.

“Pardon?� replied Earniel.

“I hear music – perhaps someone else is restless in one of these homes nearby.�

“Oh yes – I had heard it but was paying little heed to it.�

Valandil then bowed very deeply and his face became sincere with mock-formality, “Lady Earniel, the High King requests the honor of this dance.�

“Oh - I would be most delighted!� she replied, with a bow and curtsey of her own.

“After all,� he said with a smile as they came together and joined hands, “we never finished our dance last night.�

And they danced. The music was softened by its distance and the nearby trees. The newly risen moon gave plenty of light, although the stone walkway hardly seemed ideal for dancing, being a bit uneven and narrow.

First they laughed and spoke quite gaily. Later they were silent and each seemed deep in thought, though they smiled whenever their eyes met. The music had stopped playing, but on they danced.

“Earniel…� They stopped and drew apart, still holding hands with one another.

“Yes?�

“You are so different from the other gir… ladies that I have known.�

“Of course. I am an Elf!� she said slyly.

His smile returned at that, and then, serious once more, he continued, “So many that I do meet just seem to wish to be the next Queen. I cannot say which might truly someday love me, as they all just seem so interested in pushing one another aside to reach me. But you… I have already begun to feel more for you than all the fine young ladies of Annuminas.�

“It is said that all Men in their younger years yearn for an Elf-maiden.� Said Earniel evenly.

“Perhaps so… but this is not an idle dream,� he said, drawing nearer once more. “My heart reaches out to you…�

“But we Elves are slow to love.� She said, knowing full well that this was not always the case.

A branch rustled overhead and a small sprig of something fell and landed right in between them. Valandil released one hand of Earniel’s from his own and reached to the ground. “Mistletoe…� he said.

He stood and held the sprig up before his eyes, then looked up into the branches above them, where a squirrel had dislodged this sprig. “More in the tree above. Hmmm… it is hardly the Yule, but in the north of my kingdom there is a custom…�

“Yes,� she responded. “I know the one.�

“Yet Men say that to kiss an Elf places a Man under her spell – and that he cannot escape it for life.�

“We are perilous indeed.� She replied, this time unable to suppress a smile of her own.
Was THAT one still going around? Might as well play along, so as not to diminish the mystique or the ‘magical aura’ Men had toward her people.

“So,� she continued, “tell me how Men play this out.�

“Well,� said Valandil. “First a Man will place his arms around the lady and draw her close, like so…� and at that, he drew her to himself and looked into her eyes, their faces scant inches apart. For once, Earniel was caught by surprise, but then a change came over Valandil’s demeanor.

“But… I… love… Aiwendis…� he said. His arms slowly released her and dropped to his sides, and he bowed his head slightly as Earniel drew back a step.

And then Valandil looked perplexed and conflicted. “Why in Arda should I love Aiwendis? I have had no feelings for her. We danced last evening, but I had not met her before. A fine enough dancer… and a fine enough lady in all respects… but that I love her?�

Earniel did not know if he was speaking to her or to himself.

“Perhaps your heart has found the one it truly seeks.� She offered.

He looked up, and seemed startled to see her there. “Earniel… I am sorry. I do not know what to say. I had not felt that way before. You know, I actually CAME to Tharbad in hopes of meeting you… and you ARE all that the tales tell of you.� His voice trailed off and he looked confused, or sad.

“Well, my King…� she replied after an awkward silence, hoping to put him at ease, “Maybe I can be of some comfort to you at least. We DO seem to have the oddest interruptions, do we not? But perhaps we can take some more walks – maybe in the daylight? And lunch now and then? We do have classes at the same University, after all. And… we could… let’s be ‘Elf-friends’!�

His face had lifted as she spoke, and as she finished she drew close once more, reached up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He was surprised, and waited to see what might happen. Finally he spoke.

“There – I suppose that just on the cheek doesn’t have an unwarranted effect.�

“No my King… and I tried especially hard to keep the ‘Elven-magic’ out of that one!� Then she smiled once more and said, “We really ought to be returning, each to our own homes.�

“Yes… I will walk you to yours, oh Lady of Nîn in Eilph.�

At that they turned up away from the River and walked on up to the streets that made up the greater part of the city.

[Valandil]

Valandil lay staring at the ceiling of his bed chamber. Sleep eluded him, or his mind raced too far ahead of it. Why had he said he loved Aiwendis? Because he did! Why did he love her? He could not say…

He had gone to bed late and still could get no sleep. At last, he pushed his covers aside and leapt forth from his bed. He began to dress hurriedly. He pulled a trunk from a corner and opened the lid. Isildur’s sword was not all that had been recovered from the banks of Anduin that spring, while Valandil was still a lad. He drew forth his father’s armour and began to place it upon himself. It seemed fitting somehow. Here was a helm, meant to replace the one damaged at Orodruin, and kept for Isildur at Rivendell, yet Isildur never saw it. Valandil then buckled the great sword belt about his waist, with the scabbard and the Sword Ithilmegil. ‘Come, my now silent friend.’ He said to the sword in his thought. Over all, he wrapped his great cloak and slipped out into the darkness.

Leaving the grounds of his Tharbad estate, he crept through the dark deserted streets of the city. At last, he came to the entrance of the University. From there, in the shadows, on to the estate of Arandel… home of the Chancellor, his cousin Ilmenzor.

No guards were about, but Valandil was breathing heavily, and his eyes searching this way and that to ensure that he was not seen. He stood off to one side of the entrance of the mansion for what seemed an eternity, against the very walls of the house. At last, he drew forth the sword, beheld it as he held it before himself, then cast his cloak aside and made for the door.

The house was unlocked – strange that. And still, no guards on duty. At last the sword seemed to speak to him once more, not with words, but with impressions – guiding him to the nearest stair – up to the floor above, down a corridor, to a great door. Then it spoke to his mind in words, “This one… behind this door shall you find her.�

He tried the door – locked. He pounded on it with the sword, and then began to throw his weight against it. After four or five tries with all his might, he could tell that the heavy hinges were beginning to give way.

- - - - - -

Aiwendis screamed as she sat bolt upright in bed at the pounding on her bedroom door. Then all at once the door crashed open, and there stood Isildur – come for her again as he had been at Orodruin, all in his armour, face hidden by his helm, his great sword raised high. He recovered his balance from breaking down the door and looked upon her. She felt fear, and tried to call upon her ring, but it did not respond. Did she not really wish it to?

- - - - - -

Valandil burst through the door and saw Aiwendis sitting upright in her bed, her face showing her fear of her intruder. He stepped toward her and removed his helm. She did not smile, but the fear left her face and was replaced by something else… and she stretched out her arms toward him. He sat on the bed beside her and took her into his arms. As they embraced, he felt her lips begin to caress his neck, his ear, his cheek.

- - - - - -

Aiwendis watched in horror as Isildur raised his sword. He struck her and she had no pain, for she lost all feeling. Yet she could open her eyes – and she saw the figure of Isildur standing over her. He laughed, and stopped to remove his helm. There was the face of Valandil – yet the expression of hatred was like that of his father Isildur at Orodruin. He took the sword back up to finish her.

And then she awoke.

- - - - - -

Valandil sat bolt upright in his bed. He looked about himself – and all was still. He was in his own room – no Aiwendis, dressed still in his sleeping clothes. He had been dreaming then… so he had slept. There, across the room, the sword Ithilmegil gleamed as it caught the light of the waning Moon coming through an open window.

[Gordis]

Monday night, early hours.

Aiwendis watched in horror as the gleaming sward went up to finish her.

She screamed and rolled on the blood-drenches sheets, trying to avoid the blow. It never came. Instead, she heard running footsteps and felt warm arms wrapping around her.

"My Lady?! What is wrong, my Lady? What has happened?"

Trembling, Aiwendis opened her tightly shut eyes. There was her maid, Nimrael, worried and afraid, bending over her.

"Valandil….", whispered Aiwendis, "where is he?"

"The King, my Lady?" asked Nimrael, obviously bewildered. "Was he here? How could he come here at night unannounced?"

Aiwendis struggled to sit upright, and looked around the room. The King had vanished, as if he were never there. There was no trace of blood on the bed. She ran her hands along her own shaking body and found it unharmed, but for the madly pounding heart.

"Ah…, no, I think he wasn’t" Aiwendis managed to say at last. "It was but a horrible dream".

Nimrael watched her, suspicious now, then nodded and said sternly "I will go fetch you some hot tea, My Lady."

"Er, Nimrael, could you better bring me some wine?" asked Aiwendis pleadingly.

"Wine?" exclaimed the maid disapprovingly. "It is unseemly to drink wine like that, in the middle of the night. But I will add some honey to your tea," she added smiling. "It will do you lots of good".

When Nimrael returned from the kitchen, bringing tea and scones, the bedroom was empty. Aiwendis was gone. Gone outside in the middle of the night, dressed only in a nightgown and slippers! Gone into the garden full of ghosts and… who knows what else might be lurking in the shadows?

Nimrael sat on the empty bed to wait, muttering under her breath. Aiwendis was clearly in trouble, and it was Nimrael’s sworn duty to look after her Lady. Perhaps she will have to tell the Chancellor, after all…

[Rían]

Early Tuesday morning, Itazel and Danor's house,
and a bit later and the University

Alagos sat downstairs by the fire. His dark hair, which was loose and strewn about his shoulders, was almost dry. His various blades and sharpening tools were on a table at his side. Eärniel came downstairs and grinned at him.

"You look like a victim ready for the sacrifice," she said teasingly as she picked up one of his daggers. "Shall I start the ceremony?"

Alagos pulled a long face and replied in an imploring tone, "Please do, and put me out of my misery!"

Just then RÃ*an came downstairs. Her face brightened as she saw her brother and her friend, and that her brother had remembered his promise to her. She greeted them warmly as she put down the hair-braiding implements next to the daggers.

"Now RÃ*an, please just do something very simple - the people here aren't aware of our customs, and this is not a high feast day, anyway," said Alagos.

Don't worry, I'll keep it simple - I'm only going to work in a few elements," she said, as she picked up a comb and started running it through his hair.

"May I watch?" asked Eärniel. "And I might be useful in handing you things as you need them."

"We would be glad of your company and of your help," said Alagos, "but you're must entertain us, too - we demand either one thing very clever, be it prose or verse, original or repeated; or two things moderately clever; or three things very dull indeed, and we engage to laugh heartily at them all."

"I'll see what I can manage," answered Eärniel with a twinkle in her eyes, and the braiding started.

An hour or so later, RÃ*an tied off the last braid and stepped back to survey her work. "That wasn't so painful, now, was it, and you look so nice!" she said with satisfaction, handing Alagos a mirror and holding up another one so he could see all around his head.

"It is a nice job, Alagos, I must say," said Eärniel. "Your sister is very talented."

He surveyed his sister's handiwork and then took both of her hands in his. "Thank you, RÃ*an - despite my complaining, I really do appreciate it, and you did an amazing job." She had worked in 5 elements - the herringbone braiding pattern of the archers (it resembles an arrow point); the 3 twisted strands merging into one that signified a person in the King's household (a stylized version of the Trees, Glingal and Belthil, that King Turgon had fashioned in Gondolin in memory of the Two Trees of Valinor); the small blue teardrops signifying a person who had fought in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Battle of Unnumbered Tears; a very thin yellow-gold thread in honor of the house of Hador and the men that made a wall with their bodies and died to keep the hope of Men and Elves alive through the line of Turgon and Huor; and the unique pattern of their parents' house - the intermingling of two braiding patterns into one. It was well-executed and very artistic, yet subtle. He stood up and gave her a hug, and then said, "Am I free to go now?"

"Oh, take your daggers and get out of here!" she said indulgently. Men!

"It's almost 8:00! I better get going to my class!" said Eärniel, as she caught a glimpse of the timepiece.

"I'll see you in Commerce!" RÃ*an called out after her, as her friend ran out the door.

As RÃ*an put away her hair things, her eyes fell on the little book that she had been looking at the night before. She picked it up and looked out of the window. It was a nice morning, and she felt like a walk, after all the work braiding her brother's hair. She walked out of the house towards the University. A few minutes later, she was sitting in a quiet nook near the library, looking at her book and remembering.

[Udukhaturz]

The hour grew towards midnight Monday night, and still Sapthân sat on the bench by the fountain in front of the library. He had spent much time in contemplation and in attempting to communicate with the Dark Master in the Void. The time slid past 12 midnight and still Sapthân felt perplexed. A failure again! The Dark God remained silent, and all Sapthân had gained for his time of meditation was a robe damp from the night air.

Sapthân sighed in frustration. His muscles ached from sitting so long on the bench. He rose to his feet and walked towards the palace. There was still time to get some sleep before dawn. At the first pale lightening of the morning sky, he woke up, bathed and dressed and trimmed his beard as he did once a week.

He walked the bookcase in his study and took out a book entitled “The Effects of the Four Body Humors Upon Health.� Sitting down at his table, he wet his long, thin, bony forefinger and turned the pages until he found the chapter for which he was seeking - “Choleric, Melancholic, Plegmatic, Sanguine Humors - Etheric and Practical Applications.�

The assistant librarian scarcely noticed the arrival of his servant who brought Sapthân his customary sparse breakfast of unsweetened tea and brown bread. The sorcerer considered himself of a melancholic and was convinced that the overuse of honey, preserves, or fruits would disrupt the functioning of his brain and lungs.

After eating, he cleaned his fingers in a bowl of water. Then he held out his hands to a servant, who dried them with a small towel.

He reflected on the head librarian, his rival, Professor Galadannun. He must show his enemy the library today. Consulting the university schedule, he noted that the Professor taught the class on Swan Speech from 8:00 to 9:30 on Tuesdays. There was still time for more meditation before he would have to show the unwelcomed head librarian around the library.

He left his room in the palace, walked across the lawn to the small grove of trees that sheltered the fountain in front of the library. He noticed that someone was already there, a young woman whom he did not recognize. She was looking down at a book that she held, somewhat wistfully, he thought. She did not notice his approach, for his footsteps were quiet.

She looked up at the tall, thin, dark haired man with the neat beard streaked with gray. “I have startled her,� he thought.

“Good morning, lady,� he said in a deep, dignified voice. “My apologies for surprising you... let me introduce myself. I am Sapthân, the assistant librarian. I often come here to... reflect.�

[Rían]

Early Tuesday morning
in front of the University Library


RÃ*an, coming out of her reverie, composed herself sufficiently to respond politely to the trim, quiet man standing before her. "Good morning to you, sir," she responded politely; and then with more boldness as the term "assistant librarian" sank in, "I'm sorry if I have inadvertently taken a favorite spot of yours - I'll be glad to leave it to you. I can certainly see why you chose it!" She started to stand up, but he objected politely and firmly until she sat back down.

"That is a most unusual-looking book that you have there," he said with interest. "May I - or do I ask too much - examine it for myself? I am an expert in the care and handling of books, and I assure you I will be most careful."

RÃ*an did not often let other people handle her precious book, let alone strangers, but this man was very polite, and he truly looked interested - and he was the assistant librarian! - so she made up her mind. Besides, she was tired of all the unfriendly treatment that she had received lately, and decided to reach out in kindness to this man - he looked a bit careworn.

"You may, under one condition - since you will not allow me to relinquish your reflection spot to you, I must insist that you share it with me," she said, and moved over to the end of the bench so he could sit down next to her. "Besides, I'll be better able to discuss the book with you if we sit next to each other."

Sapthân looked surprised, and not entirely comfortable with the idea, but the book was fascinating, indeed, and his heart warmed to her kindness after the heavy blows of the previous night, so he sat down on the bench and took the proffered book.

She said quietly as he examined the cover, "It is very old - it was made in Gondolin. My father wrote out some of my favorite verses and added some of his own, and my mother decorated it. A friend of ours bound it - it was a coming-of-age present, and it is very precious to me."

[Udukhaturz]

“Gondolin?� he asked as he took the book from her hand. “This is a rare and valuable parchment and must be treated with great care! These ancient manuscripts need to be handled very carefully. A drop of moisture, a spot of grease from the fingers can do great damage to the pages! Care must be taken in dealing with old books.�

He looked at her and said sadly, “Years ago before precautions were taken, mice had done great damage to some old volumes. I was told by the former librarian that the creatures would race through the walls of the library, chittering and chattering. Then when they came to a hole that they had cut, they would sneak in and nibble and gnaw until they had wrought great destruction. After I was employed here, I instituted certain changes. Instead of using cats, I used the most intricate traps baited with certain poisons. The rodent problem was solved.� He smiled, pleased with himself.

Sapthân drew a handkerchief from his left sleeve and wiped each finger thoroughly before reverently opening the volume. “Your mother did beautiful illustrations!� he exclaimed. “She must be a very talented woman!� He looked back down to the tome. “Tell me about your favorite verses,� he said encouragingly. "But, dear lady," he encouraged, "I do not know your name."

[Rían]

Early Tuesday morning
in front of the University Library

"My name is RÃ*an, and it is a pleasure to meet a fellow book-lover,â€� she said graciously. “I’m so glad that the library has such a dedicated and careful caretaker now. When I read a book, I feel a kinship with the author, and even with the book itself – they seem to have their own personalities, don’t they? Reading a book is almost like being with a friend, and one can never have enough friends!â€�

“Indeed, I have heard that saying, and imagine it’s true,â€� said Sapthân absently, as he carefully opened the book and examined the inside of the front cover. RÃ*an bit her lip and vowed to speak more carefully; he did not seem like a man with an over-abundance of friends. She spoke up quickly to answer his question and to hopefully cover over her possible faux pas.

“It’s hard to say which are my favorite verses; I love them all, and depending upon what is happening in my life, sometimes I favor one, and sometimes another. But this, I think,� turning to a page near the middle, “is my favorite illustration. Is it not lovely?�

Sapthân murmured his agreement – he was enraptured with the rare and ancient book. There were not many like it left in the world today. He exclaimed sadly over a slightly damaged area, and RÃ*an said, “I’m afraid that I’m not as careful a caretaker of my book as you would be, but I know that my parents would rather it was worn out in love than preserved in coldness. But indeed, I am very careful with it, for it is one of the few links I have with my parents, whom I loved dearly. And it has held up amazingly well over all these long years, for we had highly skilled craftsmen in Gondolin who knew how to make books that lasted for our long lives.â€�

“Ah, I’m afraid that many secrets were lost with the Fall of Gondolin,� said Sapthân with a curious expression on his face.

RÃ*an nodded, and then turned to another section. “I think this is my favorite verse, at least now,â€� she said, “but more than the verses themselves, I love my father’s writing – it is strong and passionate, open-hearted and lively, as he was. Look how he forms this letter – and this one!â€�

“Very unique – an excellent example of a personal and individualized family gift. I have not seen many books from Gondolin, and it is indeed a pleasure to see one again.�

“Oh, you should have seen the libraries we had there ... but they are gone now,â€� said RÃ*an sadly. “King Turgon even had some manuscripts from the Blessed Realm, and so did several other nobles. There is a song I know that I think you would understand - one man had some manuscripts that he prized greatly and that were lost in the crossing of the Helcaraxë, and he wrote a beautiful lament for them.â€� She paused a moment, and then sang softly,

“Go Cuan Bhéil Inse casadh mé
Cois Góilin aoibhinn Dairbhre
Mar a seoltar flÃ*t na farraige
Thar sáile I gcéin.
I Portmagee do stadas seal,
Faoi thuairim intinn maitheasa
D’fhonn bheith seal ad eatarthu
Mar mháistir léinn.
is gearr gur chuala an eachtara
Ag cách mo léan!
Gur i mBord Eoghain Fhinn do chailleathas
An t-árthach tréan.
Do phreab mo chroÃ* le hatuirse
I dtaobh loinge an taoisign chalma
Go mb'fhearrde an tÃ*r Ã* 'sheasamh seal
Do ráib an tséin.

“That is only the first verse – there are many, as is the way of the Eldar! I know you can’t understand the words, for few today know my mother-tongue, but can you hear his sorrow?� she asked, and saw in his eyes that he did.

“The Darkness has caused so much sorrow,� she said sadly and looked away. “He whom we name Morgoth, for he has forfeited the right to his first name, was the cause of the destruction of so much beauty …�

Sapthân tensed up, but RÃ*an wasn’t looking at him and didn’t notice.

“The Dark One – I will not name him the Dark Lord, as some do, for he is no rightful Lord …�

She felt Sapthan stir, and turned to look at him.

[Udukhaturz]

Though Sapthân thought to himself, “Melkor! She dare blasphemes the Great Lord Who rules the Darkness!� he hid his true thoughts behind a pleasant mask.

“Of course,� he said in feigned agreement. “He is no rightful Lord.� He looked over to her, kindness dripping from his eyes. “However, let us not talk of unpleasant matters that bring such distress to your face and heart. Such a charming face it is, too, one that should never be wreathed in frowns, but should radiate happiness. I perceive that you have a kind heart.� He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Tell me instead of your parents and the happier thoughts of Gondolin. Paint me a picture of what it was like so that I can see it.�

“She holds a treasure in her hands,� he thought, “a book of costly and rare worth. Perhaps there are spells written on its pages, hidden in moon letters... but I can read them. She is of the House of the Elves. Those, too, hold their own magic that I would desire to have for my own. This Rian might prove... interesting... and very useful.�

[Grey_Wolf]

................

[Rían]

Tuesday morning
in front of the University Library

RÃ*an looked down at the book in her hands, unsure of what to do. His voice was very pleasant and his manners were polite, but she felt slightly uneasy when she looked into his eyes, and it was not a light thing to talk of the city that she loved and that was gone now for so many years, and gone in such a cruel way... She ran her fingers lightly over the cover of her book and around the curve at the corner, where it was slightly frayed ("The fool!" thought Sapthân, "can't she see that she's only making it worse!"), and a slight sigh escaped her.

"Please tell me about the libraries there," said Sapthân in his kindest and most encouraging voice, trying to get her to start talking so she would leave the cover alone. "I'm sure you spent many a pleasant hour immersed in their delights!"

"I did indeed," said RÃ*an, admonishing herself for not answering the man's polite inquiries sooner, and she started talking about the King's library.

They talked for some time about libraries, books, bindings, and all of the delights of the written word. "Oh, and have you ever seen moon letters? But I'm sure you have - a man of your learning would undoubtably know about this! They are a special delight of the elves, and the elves taught them to my father - he was a Follower; my brother and I are Pereldar - and he attained great skill with them, far beyond what the elves thought he would be able to do - he put some in my book for me, and they are so lovely! Perhaps I can show you some night, if you're interested."

Sapthân controlled his excitement with difficulty; this Elf seemed easily startled and he didn't want to move too fast and scare her away when there was so much that could be gained...

"Oh, how delightful! I would certainly enjoy seeing those, whenever you are free to show me," he said with interest, but gently and politely, as that seemed to be the tone that she reacted best to.

"And I have another book you might be interested in - it too has moon letters, of a very rare and unusual type," she said, warming up to the man who obviously loved books.

RÃ*an carefully put away the book from her parents and took out another one. She started to open it to a section where the moon letters were (although currently invisible), when a shadow fell across the book.

[Serenoli]

One of the many curses of being immortal and powerful was that you could not sleep- not for long anyhow... Your body might rest, but your mind would only wander in the spirit world for a while, before returning. While mortals were priviliged to spend as long as they wanted in this dream world, Nazgul were not so lucky. And so, they had to devise ways not only to spend the
long years, but also to fill up their longer days and nights.

Each of them chose thier own distractions... Udu had his wine... Buz and Lily had each other, and the pleasures of the flesh... Tolvadok believed that Viv went for night-time raids of people's houses, but then he had never seen her at it... Gordis had her potions, her garden. He did not know what it was that Khamul and the Morgul Lord did... but he himself spent his time, oddly for a Nazgul, with a sheet of paper, a candle, a bottle of ink, and a pen. For hours
altogether, he sketched and designed weapons... he it was who had designed all the seige machines in the old days, all the swords and cross-bows for Sauron's armies. He had a few books with him, and he pored over them. Old manuscripts he had stolen over the years from the houses of Men and Elves when he got the chance. He wanted to know as much about the
enemy as possible, so that one day, if needed, he could use this knowledge. Currently, he was obsessed with Rivendell.

No Nazgul knew of its location, none had ever found it, and Tolvadok was determined to be the first. The Morgul Lord may suspect Valandil, but Tolvadok was convinced those power-hungry and cruel Elves must have it. And so, they would have to go to Rivendell, eventually... but how to find it?

The lengthy hours of the night passed, and his candle had become a mere stub, when the sun decided to make an appearance. Tolvadok got up to the window, leaving his books on the table. Suddenly, he realised that he had not slept all night. It was too early to go hunting for Rian yet. In the meantime, he might just as well get a few hours of well-deserved rest. He collected his books, and materials, and bundled them up, and then flung himself on the bed and went to sleep.

[CrazySquirrel]

Orrodel, after 9 AM Tuesday.

Lilly opened her eyes to the morning light streaming into the room through an open window. The sun was high, and Buz was nowhere to be seen. Lilly yawned and stretched like a big lazy cat. Doing so, she found a note, written in Buz’s bold hand, pinned to the pillow:

"Lil, I am off to the blasted bridge-building lesson. What a wicked idea to put it at eight! Must be you-know-who's idea… Have sweet dreams. Penny."

Lilly yawned again, and thought of having another nap. She was able to sleep almost as long as any mortal, and much longer than any nazgul, and was quite proud of that ability. She knew the other poor buggers were envious. But the sunlight, which Buz let into the room before leaving, distracted her. She opened the door and yelled for Zimra.

The maid came, her eyes red from crying for her cousin… Lilly was in a cheerful mood, and had pity of her. She patted Zimra’s shoulder and said reassuringly

"Don’t cry Zimra. The life is so short anyway. A hundred years sooner, or a hundred yours later, she would have died all the same."

Strangely enough, Zimra looked more bewildered, than reassured by Lilly’s kind words. Stupid mortals… Lilly ordered a bath with little water and plenty of scented soap. She hated water, not so much as Khamul did, but still.

After the bath, Lilly donned her new green and orange peignoir, and wandered upstairs to check on Viv. She has not seen the little one for a whole day.

Viv was in her room, still in bed, but not sleeping. "Probably dreaming of her mortal sweetheart", thought Lilly, a tad enviously. She sailed into the room and made herself comfortable in a far corner of Viv’s bed.

"Good morning, little Vivvie! I am greatly surprised to see you here, and not in your sweethearts bed! Has anything gone wrong?"

Viv blushed angrily and rolled her eyes. "You are impossible , Lilly! I only met Ray a few days ago. You would not expect me to…"

Lilly interrupted, shrugging her bare shoulders:

"And why not, Vivvie? Life is so dreadfully short! Their life, I mean. I was just telling that to Zimra…. But well, tell me all about it…You did well, the Captain will be proud of you. As for me… look, I met the King yesterday! He peered at me like a cat on a bowl of cream, but was to shy to admit it even to himself, silly. Shame, really. But perhaps he loves another? And the other one, Marty, he hasn’t come looking for me yesterday. There must be something wrong with him. Or.."

Then a new idea struck Lilly and she screamed "Vivvie! I know! Isn’t your Ray the best friend of both Marty and the King? Could you be a darling, and ask him, somewhere in the midst of kissing or something, you understand my meaning, when he is really distraught…"
Lilly grinned lasciviously and continued,
"Ask him about Marty and Val, about their sweethearts! The more Ray tells, the better. If there is a bride, we can always send someone to kill her, can’t we? Please, Vivvie, you must help me. Aren’t you my best friend?"