The Golden Hall of Meduseld

[Wolfchild]

They marched by the low call of darkness until the stretch of Pelennor was bog underfoot. Their grotesque tread slicing mudded grooves in the earth did nothing to silence the roar and the bellows of Mordor's unleashed horror, carried by the beat of uncountable drums. The White City could hear this unfathomable army before the shadow that it cast came clearly into view. All over Gondor, people and pirate alike could only hope that the tremors threatening to split the ground were some distant rumble from the land of their misled foes. Fate did not favor it so easily. As the once green fields turned to the glint of black ash, it was not the ground alone which shook in fear.

The fell beats came closer now with every thundering wave, and more approached over the enclosing army. Those that drove them ceased to tease their desires for bloodshed, and began diving the crowds fleeing to save themselves, whereupon closing in their talon-like claws would carry screaming prisoners high above the King's Courtyard, and release them to a plummeting death. Hunted like wild animals, the people of Gondor soon realised that the armies of Mordor had gathered so that none could escape from the outer city. In rapid bombardment, the first loading of trebuchet engineering landed with crushing impact upon all that it devoured; walls fell like thin palisade with every new bombardment, and thus, the true battle began. A deep boom below told the Steward that the gates had at last been breached. Vargaz was close.

[Beren One-Hand]

(BTW, Wolfchild, the king is on Glaustar's back on route to the Lonely Mountain.  The Stuard is in control of the city for now.)   

*Remard the Stuard spoke to his troops: "Go to your defences, soldiers of Gondor.  We might fight to our doom, but we fight nonetheless.  Our reborn king goes to call for aid, and none but him can do it.  Do not feel he has abandoned us.  The northern allies will not come unless he calls for them himself, and in person.  Fight my brave men, for I also stand with sword and shield in hand, and will defend my city until the death."  The soldiers soon became inspired by the words of the brave Stuard, and went immediatly to their battle stations.  The forces of Mordor continued to raise their hell upon the city and the casaulties soon became many.  The forces of the She-wolf killed all in their path, even women and children.  But the Stuard and his men valiantly fought and cut down all that came into their path, as they held the king's courtyard by the tree of the king.  Remard even killed four wargs in one swift motion of his sword.*

*Glaustar landed in the fields of Dale to greet the leaders of the kingdoms there.  Dwalinstone, Thranduil, Beren and Malekiah of Dale were all there, including the Master of Laketown.  All were in awe, and surprised to see Eldarion in their lands.  For they did not know of his personal reforms and transformation.  He had much explaining to do to convince the kings of his sincerity.  Thus in the hours that follwed he fully explained himself to the kings.  But his most important words were: "I call for your aid in my lands.  You know of the oppression of Minasal and the Corsairs upon my kingdom.  But even as I have driven him out, he gathers up his forces and will launch a full assault on my kingdom, and utterly destroy it.  Furthermore, this is not Gondor's only problem.  Another force, maybe more vicious and ruthless invades Gondor as we speak.  The orcs and wargs of Mordor come with full power, riding on the command of the She-wolf, Vargaz.  Our brave Stuard, Remard defends the city with all his might, but soon he will fall, if your help does not come.  Only you, great kings of the north can save us.  Even Rohan has deceived us - they follow Minasal."*

[Wolfchild]

(Amended! Apologies Beren, late night writing will do me no good.)

Vargaz, with her gathering, and the multitudes of soldiers made their way to the highest level, their leader using the knowledge she had gained upon her last visit to find the courtyard where the white tree blossomed and the stone became stained with red. Immediately, they were met by the proud guards of the city, meeting with a thunderous clash as hordes of uruk-hai flooded past the half wolf, and took up the business of outnumbering the noblemen and entering in bloody massacre. Vargaz bid her men closer, and took an already wounded Gondorian in her steel first, crushing his jaw, and finishing him with a thrusting swordstroke. It cleared the way for her people to move quickly to the Hall, where the wise steward lay in wait, knowing of the peril that slunk through his doorway.

Their leader looked haggard, to say the least. Like a rabid dog she eyed him cautiously, soon beaming with a malicious smile that assured him her intent was beyond the limits of cruel. The six who followed her laughed at the pitifulness of their quarry. Yet the steward met them with equal sentiment.

Vargaz growled, but in the next second his plan became obvious. The rangers who in the past had been lead under Faramir revealed themselves from each vengeful crevice and hide; each of whom stood armed with a laden bow, confidently adamant that this was their final act of truth to the city. Without second word, they released their arrows.

By this time, the soldiers who had been laboring on the other side of the door made their way under the ancient archway, to be met by the sight of their most senior commanding officers dead before their very eyes. They reacted with charging fury, overwhelming the rangers through numbers and intolerable fury, soon destroying them all. 

The drumbeat rose above it all.

The battle seemed not to notice as Vargaz, still pierced by half a dozen arrows, raised herself in a state of confusion from the floor of piling corpses, whilst all around her their faces became slowly more familiar. She remembered it all. In the brink of a waging victory, she saw, not ten metres away, the astounded steward- and as the rangers were gradually culled, similar expressions of the Mordorian army. Vargaz wrenched each flesh torn bolt from her skin as she walked towards a man trying to show bravery in his final moments. "For the glory of death" she whispered, before with sudden snarl she took the hilt of her sword and plunged it into his exposed chest. Choking blood, he fell to the ground.

Unable to understand her own immortality, Vargaz left her men to finish the city, and plunder it for all the coin it was worth. As she stepped into the burning courtyard, a fell beast landed where now the white tree smoldered, and its rider stepped down to give her the reins. Nodding, she took the chance to survey the near victorious hordes from the sky.

[Beren One-Hand]

*Astonished to see his mighty rangers fall before him, Remard the Stuard continued to fight, cutting down as men wargs and orcs as he could.  He had heard of the She-wolf and he knew of her cunning and deception.  So as she turned to aid one of her wounded wargs, Remard struck her with his sword, cutting deep into her shoulder blade.  This took Vargaz off guard and she fell to the ground and moaned with pain.  The orc attack had slowed and it seemed that they were too busy pillaging the city to notice what had been going on in the upper tower and throne room.  Remard knew there was no way out, as it seemed he was the only one left alive in the city.  He envisioned a large bird in his mind coming to rescue him.*

*Glaustar had seen his fateful dilemna, and sent out another eagle called Seer-eyed to save the brave lord of Gondor.  And he did so - he saved the lord just in the nick of time.  The eagle carried away Remard and took him to the north to join Eldarion and the other lords, who gathered and plotted their large scale assault on the lands of the south.*

*Minasal sat upon the crowsnest of his largest ship and saw the White City burning to the ground.  He smiled to himself with the thought of the deaths of Eldarion and Remard, though he didn't know of their escape.  Now he would send out his legions to destroy Vargaz and her forces.

[Wolfchild]

*The Corsairs knew that to run into the battle with their lesser numbers would be a waste of their time and numbers. But in order to succeed at Minasal's bidding, they realised this would be a battle of stealth and deception. Knowing the city well enough already, they had fluent knowledge of keeping to the quiet back alleys, and creeping unnoticed within the shadows of stone. They proceeded thusly through all the labyrinth-like passages, but in doing so could trap a wayward soldier, to the advantage of swift assassination. Slowly, they worked their way up level after level, to seek out the object of their master's desire.*

*Returned to the highest level of Gondor, Vagaz wrapped a piece of torn leather around her wounded arm, which did little to ease the damage. Already she wondered why she had not died with the others, when the same arrows had destroyed all her personal guard. Her speculation increased when before her eyes, the pain in her shoulder disappeared, and peeling back the mock bandage, it was revealed that the flesh had healed itself to a faint scar. It was proof beyond all else that showed she could not be harmed...but how was it possible? The wolfish gods would have turned their back on her long ago, yet Awle's act of returning her to life might have been to prevent her from further self sacrifice.

"Why would he do that?" she snarled.

"Do what?" questioned the unseen foe behind her, bearing the sword with which he intended to slay such a demon. Vargaz turned instantly to meet him, unsheathing her own defensively, and allowing him to make the first blow. She parried with unnatural speed, causing his weapon to fly uselessly to the floor. The Corsair's confidence fell.

"You hesitate pirate, but are the first of your kind here, and will soon be joined by others. The fool who leads you, Minasal, is willing to have you killed for my sake. I am just an animal with a name. A dog without a collar. It would be childish of me to assume there is not a price upon my head, and even more so that some rat of the sea could resist it."

The Corsair suddenly smirked, uncaring for the dire situation, "Hah! She-wolf, your blood has spilled too much to know. Your people are dead, fallen by the Haradrim who join you in battle. Minasal does not order your death for bounty, he orders it so that the city might be rid of you for his true reign! Now that the Gondorians are destroyed and their leaders cut down by your hand, he has used your army where his would have fallen short of the conquest. You have acted like a peon to his bidding."

"Then what of you, soldier, or do you forget your mission? If Mordor has done the work of the Corsairs, then we are no different!" She held her sword intently, but the assassin did not blink.

"I'd never share your side, wolfish scum. You are as much animal as you speak of, loyal only to those where face is the highest value. All I need do is kill you, and this war is over."

"Then do it!" she shouted, impatiently, tossing her sword with a crash to the ground, and swinging her arms to her side. Hesitantly, the warrior took his chance, and with little effort took a few, bracing steps forward, but with sadistic glee plunged the cold steel squarely into the heart of her chest.

Choking on her own blood, Vargaz stumbled for a moment, and fell to her knees, shaking with the energy that seemed to drain and fade her vision. From nowhere she heard the unified footsteps drawing around her, but she could no longer see what forms made it. Curling to her side, her steel arm clung against the stone beneath, before all bled to a blackening darkness.

When she woke, it was the ground itself which shook violently.*   

[Beren One-Hand]

*The gathering of the lords in the north was like none other in Middle Earth history - it was unequaled.  Remard had just arrived to the surprise and joy of his king Eldarion.  All had thought the plight of Seer-eyed would be in vain and that the brave lord would have been easily slain in the slaughter of his city.  The lords would gather for a large scale council meeting to discuss their plan of action.  The entire south and east was their enemy, and all those who stood in their path would be destroyed, be it Vargaz or Minasal or Barahir.  It didn't to the forces of the North.  They had to be unwavering in their quest to rid the earth of evil, and the south and east lands were beyond corruption.  It would be a long haul - battles would have to be fought on several fronts, or attacked one-by-one.  Furthermore, the Northlands could not be left unguarged either, for the enemy might seek to attack them if the majority of their forces were absent from those lands.  So it came to pass that the council met inside Dwalinstone's chamber inside the Lonely Mountain.*

*But something unexpected occured, a legion of dwarves had just arrived from Rhun, and they had with them a peculiar captive.  It was the Wolf-man, Erekuil.  Was he to be a pawn?  Or a tool for victory?  Only time would tell.*

[Wolfchild]

"She was slain. Slain by my own sword- how is it that she breathes still?"

"No mortal creature could harbor such a wound and live! She isn't human, and never was."

"Dark magic. Do you believe the old stories?"

"I did not, until I witnessed the monster with my own eyes. That she is killed only to wake again means she was destined to fight forever, long after her masters have passed and her troops have fallen."

"Such a curse..." she whispered, with an evil smile broadening over her white face. Vargaz took a breath of air, and reached down to touch where her chest was black with blood. 

"Don't move you dog-sired mongrel! Your war might not be over, but you are in no position to lead the assault further. Once your witless vagabonds realise they are leaderless and matched in number, they will flee back to Mordor bearing the knowledge that they no longer hold the power over Middle-Earth that they once did. Now your trick is revealed before the true enemies of Gondor, we Corsair kind still loyal to Minasal will ensure it is put to better use. Bind her hands, we will take our Master the spoils of this victory."

Vargaz had remained unmoving, but as the words of the captain ceased, she shot up instantly, and became the animal that held her name strong. The transformation from the feigning weakness has caught them completely by surprise, and left all exposed to the hideous nature of the Mordorian beast, snarling with bloodstained teeth, and savaging the soldier who had failed to kill her, tearing him apart amid the horrific sounds of his final screams. The others, for there were ten at least, retaliated quickly, soon realising their comrade was beyond rescue, they attacked with what mandatory weapons each of their kind carried, thus unleashing a wide spectrum of steel and worn iron. She swung for their captain, avoiding the cut of a longsword in the process, and latched her vice-like grip upon his upper arm, shaking it like a dog until the bone dislocated, leaving him in excruciating pain. The remainder surrounded her, closing in with swords until she realised there were fewer there than she had dispatched.

Before she realised it, she was jumped from behind by two guards using chains which they wrapped around her neck before one was torn from her shoulder and the other was forced to hold on or be dismembered with him. Vargaz failed to shake him off, and so ran from the chamber with him still in tow, only to be met by a battle which was coming to an end. In the courtyard, there were more just like the others. Corsair opportunists, ready to take what they had come for. Gondor, and the Wolf-Woman.

A flourish more were armed with rope, chain and net, with which they snared her in passing and soon had her muzzle and neck bound tightly. Effort was required to bring such a beast down, but through number and vigilance they did so, until she could be dragged to her future prison. The Corsairs had planned it all, and in their cunning had brought to the highest levels a great cage upon a wooden frame and wheels, into which Vargaz was, after further resistance, contained.

"Make sure she keeps that form until we are rid of the city walls" a guard commanded "Minasal wants the beast ready to go to Umbar within the next few hours, once he has taken a look at his prize."

[Beren One-Hand]

*The reports of scouts from Gondor had reached the ears of the lords gathered in the North.  The White City, Minas Tirith had been raised to the ground by the armies of Mordor, led by the Wolf-kind, Vargaz.  But the forces of evil would not be satisfied with their feat for long.  Their blood thirsted for more human carnage.  Though Barahir was loyal to Minasal, the pirate lord had no more use for Rohan, and unbeknownst to Rohan, their defeat would also come soon and swiftly.  As we tell this story, several legions of Minasal's army marches forth to Rohan - to utterly destroy it and without mercy at that.*

*"Ah ha."  Was what came out of Beren's mouth when he saw Erekuil, the infamous Wolf-man.  "This man I know.  He once lived amongst the goblins of Moria, and then rode with Vargaz after that.  A peculiar sight he is without a doubt.  But we must interrogate him and find out all he knows.  My fellow lords and kings, I must do this.  His kind will not speak to anyone else.  And he is no use to us dead."  Thus the lords agreed, and left Beren alone with the Wolf-man inside a secret chamber below the Lonely Mountain.*

[Wolfchild]

They managed to sneak her away, though it would have been difficult for any to have reacted even if she was seen for all the carnage that still struggled on. It had caused a great deal of confusion amongst all three of the armies now involved; and depleted Gondorians, overwhelming Corsairs and wavering hordes of Mordor struggled to outmatch one another- though after time, it seemed that the fight was between the two latter, for the city's true inhabitants had known from the start that the day would end with flee or fight to the death.

Vargaz did not know what made her stay in wolfish form, for she had heard the words of the soldier as he ordered the scouts, and realised they as yet had no control over her body, but something made her stay, whether it was a desire to stay safe or an urge to look at Minasal through bestial eyes. Her heart wavered at the name of Umbar. Corsair kind made the majority of their money through illegally trading the plunder of war, and here was an object to which a rich man would become richer, if indeed he was to sell her to the sea.

An unnoticed white exitway of Gondor disappeared with the slow trundle of aging iron wheels. The Corsair few were impressively amazed at how easily they passed the still surging Mordorian army, who were mostly focused on getting into the city, and scaling their huge walls with towering ladders when the main gateway could support no more of their thousands of troops. The Anduin was close. The sales of their ships were already in sight.

[Beren One-Hand]

*"Wolf-man.  What say you?  What do you know of Vargaz and her plan?  Where does your allegiance lie?"
The Wolf-man replied: "My lord my allegiance is divided.  Somehow a part of me owes my very survival to the goblins of Moria.  For without them I am surely dead by now, or long ago.  Thus part of my allegiance lies there.  Vargaz.  Somehow I am loyal to her, as she is of my kind, but now I believe she has betrayed even her own people.  Those quant people of the northern wolven village, hidden in the mountains long ago, but now destroyed, would not agree with her path now.  She feels she can go back and forth, and no one knows of her plight.  I know you know her even better than I.  But I feel that her torture and corruption on the part of the old Witch King is what has made her the way she is.  Anyhow, explanations about her are fruitless.  She is a wayward daughter, and her allegiance goes only with the wind.  None can tame her, and none should try.  In one day she will bring down the White City, and then at a whim, she will give herself up.  None know her path.  None should trust her."  Beren stood fairly impressed at the words of the man Erekuil.  He was no fool, and maybe somehow his experience with the goblins has evened out his perception a bit.  He would definitely be an exceptional ally in this great, upcoming war.  The two continued their conversation, and Beren allowed the Wolf-man to roam the region, but only under a close guard.  Erekuil swore the sacred Wolf-pact oath, to never forsake Beren and the lords of the North.*

[Wolfchild]

Pelargir was heaving under the weight of the Corsair fleet which anchored itself in and around the port. Buildings here had seen the invasion first hand, and were now part of the pirate crusade to cleanse Gondor of its leaders. They had been added to by a crude scavenge of shameless building work, and when there was not wood and metal their kind had settled in tents that extended close to the walls of the White City. Paths were well worn between these two settlements, and it was clear they had established a vermin-like residency, leeching themselves to the shores in order to have somewhere to run when Gondor became suspicious, though the City had long been blind to their advances.

Minasal approached the cage slowly, although now the wooden tap of his right leg showing the extent of what she had done, but bearing a light smirk that was copied from his previous intervention.

“There were times when you and I were close companions Vargaz. Piracy was a distant concern in that age- men were more accustomed to the wars of the land than those of the sea. And greater wars they brought, as you and I know. Nothing that would mar the trade of Umbar, or the distant south. So how did it come to this, that I must bind your hands in order to speak? Mordor clearly thinks you some tool of grave importance…”

The pirate behaved unusually, considering how their last meeting had ended. He seemed pleased, yet disappointed, as if he thought her less than his expectations. Minasal knelt before the cage, and stared directly in to her eyes, saying “But you have more important things to consider than the satisfaction of war. Perhaps my suggestion of why you fight it? Was there reason when they dispatched you from that eastern pit? Conquest of the White City indeed, but that is not what will be left of it. They created you so that questions would be forgotten. Reasoning would replace itself with hunger for blood. Times were, that you thought you were fighting for your people, but then that is why you made them, is it not? The task of protecting them eventually became too much to bear. You wished them dead- you sealed their fate and left them behind.

Everything you touch must turn to ash, Vargaz. Everything you love must die, and from what I have seen it always does. I tell you this because I too loved you once. My hatred blinded me in Gondor, and it would still were it that I knew then what I know now. The north has known about our growing hostilities here longer than we assumed. I sent scouts to tell of this threat, but they did not return. They were trained men, Vargaz. Some of the best we could muster. I intend to return to Umbar, and die a proud man protecting my homeland- not this vagabond for a dying City. With all your kind lost, and Mordor on the edge of annihilation, I want you to see me before they storm the land of the Corsairs.”

Vargaz hung her hear piteously, but kept her eyes locked as she turned to her human form. With a broken voice, she slowly muttered “Aye, Sir.”

[Beren One-Hand]

*The scouts of Edoras had long seen it coming.  They and their king, Barahir had been dupped and betrayed - used, by the pirate lord, Minasal.  Several legions, allied with the Wildmen raped and pillaged the surrouding villages, burning everything in their path to the ground.  None were spared, even for the purposes of slavery.  The army soon came to the gates of Edoras.  A messenger approached the gate and asked to speak to the king himself: "Bid me a word with your lord, guard.  For his actions now are crucial."  The guard nodded and left immediately for the Golden Hall of Meduseld, the great hall that shares the name of our story.  Barahir knew that should he ever survive this ordeal, and be captured by the lords of the North, that he would be tried for treason, and imprisoned for ever in the dungeons of the North.  He knew not of the escape and renewal of Eldarion, or of the bravery of Faramir's son, the steward Remard.  He had been fed all the lies and propaganda of Minasal, and for all that he was doomed.*

*The messenger was far from your typical diplomat, and behaved in the typical Corsair manner.  "Oh king of the Golden Hall.  Your deceptioin of your long time allies in the North and in Gondor could still be your doom.
We have layed to waste all the surrounding lands and territories of your kingdom.  You are trapped."  The king interrupted: "These things I know I have done.  Why destroy us?  We pledged our allegiance to Minasal and the Corsair kingdom.  Now what does Minasal want from us?  He can destroy us if he will."  The messenger replied: "He wishes your survival.  But has done what he has done to your lands to test your will and loyalty to him.  Will you continue to be his beaken in these lands?  To stand up to the North when they come to destroy you?  Or will you flee and run from your country like the cowards of Gondor?"  The King followed: "We will stand and fight them, even if it be to our doom."  The messenger nodded, and consequently left the Golden Hall.  The king would follow through with his allegiance to Minasal and the Corsair kingdom.*

*Theonath, the younger brother of the king had planned his daring escape.  He had disagreed with Barahir from the get-go, and planned to embark on a journey of his own to the north.  If anyone could persuade the northern lords to spare this kingdom, it would be him.  His counsin Remard would hear him and would trust him unwaveringly.  So in the thick of the night, under the cover of the fog, Theonath broke into a horse stable and stole one of the Mearas, riding north and into the night.*

[Wolfchild]

The Corsairs were obvious in their exit of the port; it was clear of their impact on the land and how long they had been there when some brought wives and children with them. Their boats would add some haste to their journey, but made no bones about subtlety, for even in the highest reaches of Gondor, their fleet could be seen from such distances. When the mouth of the Anduin broke past Tolfalas they had the sea, and spurred on from the Northern threat, they made their way home.

Vargaz was treated unusually in her captive state, for they brought her cage aboard the lower decks of Minasal's ship, but as soon as they had done so, allowed her freedom from it, to roam the vessel on her own. There was never a true distinction of trust with her, but the pirate lord knew that she had at least listened to his words, and from their distant history she would honor that before the end.

[Beren One-Hand]

*Somehow with the escaping of Theonath, the younger brother of the king of the Golden Hall, the integrity of the Rohanion throne might be salvaged.  Thus the rider of Rohan barely stopped for rest in his journey to the North, pushing the mearas hard and at a fast pace.*

*As the wolf-man Erekuil roamed about the North under guard, he felt he was realizing his true purpose - to fight for the forces of good in the north and to be the saviour of his people, something he could not have done, had he not have been exposed to the variety of peoples and lanscapes that he had.  Vargaz had failed the Wolf-people, and if she could not lead them, he would.  His goals could only be achieved if he rides with Beren and the lords of the North.*

[Wolfchild]

*In two days they were halfway towards the docks of Umbar, and having already escaped the mouth of the Anduin were now two hundred miles from Tolfalas. This distance from the coast brought the prospect of tempestuous weather, and did not fail to do so when the light was at its worst, and the ships became their most vulnerable. Seas would suddenly become great, soaring mountains, that cast themselves over deadly valleys, luring like enormous traps that would consume all who could not escape the bowels of the ocean. Torn by lightning, wind and rain, they battled through with the best of efforts, knowing that few others could do the same.*

*Ears pricked in the North for the faint howl that danced upon a western breeze. Its message -for those that could understand the ancient words- was not of threat or intimidation, but of celebratory mirth, absolute joy that had not emerged in that lyric, voice nor species for what seemed an age. Its bearer sang of life, and in traditional method spoke of times past and present, choosing not to linger on old misfortunes. For Erekuil, the only man of that fraction who could truly know their meaning, a spark lit in his eyes. The bearer of distant voice did not need to name himself for the wolf man to know the voice already well enough. Even then he could not hide a smile, nor shield a tear.

"...Never to the cause of the arrow or knife,
Meklian lives, Meklian lives..."

As the song continued to echo from the mountains, it seemed to grow closer.*