For the previous chapter, ''One Last Silver Kiss'',
click here.
Name me a weapon,
deadlier
than the sharpest blade.
You choose guile?
With that, you are almost right.
For the sharpest weapon
which one may draw
is the sense.
Blessed, who
may wield it,
for many
mistake guile
for the sense.
-Viraïgon,
Dark Elvish Master of Picture and Word
North of Middle-Earth, unmapped regions of Forodwaith, Late Third Age
Thangrineth lay motionless on the ground. Since the vial broke, something had illuminated her and a orb of light rested on her battered armor. Would it have been enclosed by a lamp, she would have held it for the flame of a candle. Small and unmoving it hung in the mere air. What has that brainless idiot done? Small discharges struck forth and hit her as well as the Half-Orc, without that they caused any harm. The Dark Elf did not even feel anything - except for an immensely powerful aura.
Her enemy made a long jump backwards and raised the shield as defense, the mace reached against the illumination. »That will not help you either, dark knife-ear!«, he growled and displayed the askew but sharp teeth. »Your spells will not save you!«
Thangrineth had not a single clue what had freed itself from the vial, but it caused her no harm so far. Maybe she could even trade it in for an advantage. She had to use the fear of her foe and acquire an edge.
»If you yield not immediately, I will let your head burst to pieces, beast!«, she called, to let the Half-Orc believe that she was the true master over the events. »Go to the Galran Unuk and tell him what powers I possess!«
The tiny orb of light still hung above her and began slowly to rotate. Several more discharges came from its inner and described jagged arcs that struck into the smoke and disappeared.
It seemed to Thangrineth as if they were looking for something.
The Half-Orc however was impressed by the harmless spectacle and retreated two more steps back so that he could be hardly made out in the steam.
»Heja!«, he called. »To me! I need help! The knife-ear knows wizardry!«
Thangrineth thought feverishly. Her limbs no longer moved through the cause of the poison, as much as she made an effort to stand up. As soon as the last henchman of the Galran Unuk arrived, who obviously knew something about spells and mystical events, she would be a dead Dark Elf and torn out of the infinity. Extinguished. They would forget her name, not even write it on the wall in the hall of the fallen.
Never! Creator, I beg you! She starred at the buzzing orb.
A man closed in on her through the clouds of smoke, garbed in black and bearing a red, fiery eye as emblem around his neck. Of all things! An arch-enemy of her people and all people of Middle-Earth, a servant of the self-proclaimed dark lord, full of arrogance, so that the fall would be even deeper. A fall in which these dark men would break their necks.
The sight invoked the last power reserves in her. She thought full of hate, full of disgust about how this scum hid itself from the Elves, sought for sanctuary in the Black Land far to the east only to fall for the doctrines of the enemy. That such a servant had followed her was a peculiarity in itself.
I must not die. Especially not through his hand! Her mood brightened a little as she saw the shock on the face of the man. It was not good that the orb was free, so much was clear.
»Rambarz!«, echoed the commanding voice of the man. Already for the sound of it, Thangrineth could have slain him. »Come here this instant!«
The Half-Orc appeared, the shield raised and the weapon held by his long arm. »The thing is still there«, he said indicative. »Make it away!«
The man held a sword in his hand with which he pointed at the orb. »That is no work of an Elf! It was caught in the vial.«
Thangrineth laughed up. »Your friend destroyed it as he attacked me. The Galran Unuk will not like that. His own people destroy what he sought to gain back.« Her jaw still hurt and she had a hard time to speak correctly.
»It was part of a pact and you stole it, thief! And as it seems, not knowing what it is.« The man sheathed his sword, looked about. »Be on your guard«, he ordered Rambarz. »If you see the cloud of star-light and night-sky of which I spoke then you must tell me.«
»Yes, Thawon.«
Thangrineth felt an icy wave striking through her body, frost seemed to take her captive and freeze her heart. Creator, save me! I mustn't end this way! It cannot be my fate. For the time that an eye would need to blink twice, she thought her life would have come to an end; then her heart worked again and pumped the frosty, thick blood through her veins. The pain in her chest that originated from the kick and those in her jaw held her awake.
Thawon knelt next to her, laid the sword to the ground and formed the hands to a circle. He held a distance of two hand widths to the glowing orb. With closed eyes he began a cruel chant that hurt Thangrineth's ears. An incantation.
Thangrineth estimated that this orb could be of interest to the spirit. Great interest. Let's wait what it says about it. So she sang, so loud and clear as her wounds allowed her, a buoyant tune, to lure the spirit to her location. She had learned from her first mistake.
Thawon opened the eyes, angry he looked at the Dark Elf. »Be silent!«
Thangrineth sang grinning and coughing on.
»Rambarz, teach her silence. For good!«
The Half-Orc came out of the clouds of steam. He still did not trust the events and made a small arc around the orb; during his brief walk he prepared his weapon to lunge out.
Thangrineth almost shouted out the tones so that she may be heard. If the heavy end of the mace hit her, it was over. Once and for all.
The air behind Rambarz began to shimmer and the Dark Elf laughed loudly up, spewed blood and had trouble to breathe. Suffocating, she tried to inhale.
Thawon looked up and saw the being. »By all the fires of ...« His face turned ash-grey. »Help me!«
The glowing orb issued a deep buzzing noise. The discharges shot into the shimmering form of the spirit and became brighter.
Blinded, Thangrineth was forced to close her eyes, warmth enshrouded her and drove away the icy cold and the pain from her body, made her feel a bit more alive again. Ye powers, what game are you playing with me? She acted as long as she had the chance to do so. Blind she reached for the sword of the man, managed to grasp it and struck against her foe. At the same time, her ability to see returned.
Thawon had expected the attack and tried to draw his dagger to parry, but Thangrineth was too quick for him. The blade hit him at the shoulder and the Dark Elf stung immediately forward, through the throat, to end the servant of the Dark Lord for good. »Your death is Thangrineth.« She let go off the hilt. Thawon died next to her, the eyes filled with hate until they became dull.
With the other hand she took hold of her spear and managed in the last second to lead the force of the falling mace away from her. In a fluent motion she stung into the foot of the Half-Orc and triggered the hidden dwarven mechanism.
A loud hiss could be heard and the coarse boot doubled its size. Blood sprayed out of the shaft. Her foe staggered with a loud roar.
Thangrineth got to her feet, held the spear with both hands and whirled it around. The effects of the poison were hardly there anymore. Do not be too certain about that, she reprimanded herself and looked at the spirit.
The being seemed to fight a war in itself. The orb had disappeared but the form of the spirit was filled with arcs of light that struck into every direction and tore holes into the ancient creature. It became darker and ever more gloomy like a thunder-cloud. The aura that now radiated from it was made of pure dread, of menace, of fear.
Marvelous! Thangrineth enjoyed the sensation that let her feel no pain at all.
There was no sign of Rambarz anymore. The Half-Orc seemed to have fled. Too much power and indescribable events for the brainless beast.
Thangrineth remained standing on her spot, observed the spirit that slowly began to calm. The thunder-clouds in its inner broke up, while the being still had its sublime face buried into its hands. The sounds of crying became quieter and quieter turned then into silent laughter. What a nice gift that you brought me. Thangrineth was your name, yes?
The Dark Elf nodded, her excitement rose. She felt that the spirit had changed. It still spoke luring, murmuring but now also with an impressive amount of guile. With a trace of imminence in every syllable. The sleepy, bored nuance had disappeared. »Yes, that is my name. And it delights me that you enjoy the gift.«
Why did you give it to me just now?
»I wanted to understand you first better, gain an impression. Forgive, that I kept you waiting.« Thangrineth did not know in the slightest what had just occurred nor what had taken her the agony that had ruled her inner just a few moments ago. But it was well.
That I understand and I forgive you, my friend.
Thangrineth smiled. »So I am a fortunate Dark Elf.«
I feel clearly that the veil before my eyes has lifted and that I sense a great amount of gratefulness to you. The spirit came closer and raised a shimmering hand that intended to touch her hair, but it halted before doing so and retreated. And I remember your request. The plead for aid in the matters of war to the south. You promised that I would receive my own realm?
The voice was prowling, demanding and extremely dangerous. Thangrineth had the feeling that she was standing literally next to her death in this very moment. Closer even than when the poison had struck her down.
There she had imagined how she would return together with the spirit to her home and present it as new ally. Whom she had won by herself, wholly without the aid of Cadhalor. How she received the blessing of the Conclave.
All that was being pushed far away. But at least she wanted to persuade the spirit and point it its way to the land of the Conclave. »I swear that my masters will leave sufficient land to your liking wherever you wish as soon as we have become dominant on this world again.«
That sounds very good. I can hardly wait for it! Now the shimmering hand descended unto her head. You carry death within you, Dark Elf. Venom. Say: Do you wish to die? Should this journey be your last by your own will?
»No, by the creator! I was poisoned so that my will could be bend. I shall gain the antidote, once ...«
Shall I cast it out of you?
»You can do such a thing?« Thangrineth could not quite decide so easily whether or not she should accept the offer. The urging, the unexpected greed was not to her liking. Whatever had happened to her newfound ally, the spirit had altered itself entirely. It seemed to her like it was exchanged against another creature. Sadly, she could no longer ask the henchmen what it had been that was caught in the vial.
The spirit closed its eyes, its essence washed shimmering about Thangrineth and seemed to let her burn up. She felt as if she was sitting in an oven, sweat broke out on every fiber of her skin, dampened her garments and soaked her face as if she had emerged from the sea. Then the heat ended.
That should have helped you, my friend.
Thangrineth looked down at herself. Her sweat was colored in a deep brown and smelled awfully. »Was that the poison?«
Yes. Only warmth was required to drive it out of your body. The hand of the spirit retracted and fell to its side; it smiled impatiently. When do we strike?
»Strike?«
The war, Dark Elf! I want to see the land that will soon be mine. Your rulers have already made preparations, I take it?
»We wanted to make sure that you are on our side.« Thangrineth could not yet quite believe it, that the salvation from death had been so close over the entire time. She laughed. »You saved me!«
After you brought this gift to me, I found it only appropriate to return something. Its expression darkened. So, when do we strike?
Thangrineth had clearly perceived the threat. A mixture of a whining child and an insulted king. She heard the hissing of the smoldering land around her, thought of the destruction and ruin. Suddenly she felt a great reluctance to bring this being to the lands of the Conclave. Will the same happen to my home? And what if their lands were suddenly more to the liking of the spirit than the prospect to subdue Middle-Earth?
Thangrineth determined: The spirit could not be allowed into the realm of her people. »I will set out immediately and bring the good news to the Conclave. Then we will gather our host. Once that has happened, I will send a messenger to you.«
The being remained quiet for a little while. I do not want to remain in this desolation. I have spent too much time to watch these lands die. I will head to the east as long as I wait.
»Very well.« Thangrineth bowed politely before the spirit. »I will be on my way. Hold out, until my message reaches you.«
No, do not send me a messenger. Sing.
»What?«
You shall sing, my friend. And I wish for the beautiful dark tune you sang first, not for the buoyant piece.
»Hundreds of miles will part me from you«, Thangrineth objected in disbelief.
I will hear it. Now go. The creature made of star-light and night-sky slowly retreated. I will not wait forever, Thangrineth. Hurry. Should it take too long until I perceive your voice and the song, then I will see our pact as void.
»What is too long for you?«
After the next winter I should have received word from you. Preferably the song. The spirit disappeared.
Thangrineth gulped, raised the hand and looked at the dripping, stinking poison on her fingers. Saved. I will see my home again and announce my success. There she suddenly noticed that she had no proof for the allegiance with the spirit. The Conclave had to trust alone on her word - would they do that? Start the machinery of war, call their allies and the own people to fight only on the account of her adventurous tales?
Thangrineth felt highly uneasy.
Her role in the unsuspected alteration of the spirit she would not mention. Neither will I speak of the vial nor of my experiences here in this land. Still she wanted to warn the Conclave of the new ally. Maybe there was a possibility after all to attempt the war without the aid of the spirit. But now the creature knew of their plans and wanted to join up. It would be very difficult.
She would have to think of something, but first she wanted to return home and declare the news about their newest ally. And be celebrated for it. I have earned it. She touched her lower jaw and her chest where she no longer felt any signs of pain.
Soon her bad feeling dispersed. She, the hero, returned after many trials and had won the ancient being for the Dark Elves.
Everything that she disliked in her story, she simply blanked out.
For herself and hence for everyone else.
