XVIII

"Master." The tall figure knelt down and offered the scrolls up. "As requested, the Hikarnawen."

A satisfied hiss came from within the robes, and there was a brief rustling before the tall one felt the scrolls yanked from his grasp and floated toward the pile of rags.

Well done. The voice was otherworldly, even to his ears, ears of one who belonged more to the world of shadows. You have served me well once again, King of Kings.

"Thank you."

He rose and turned to leave but was stopped in his tracks by a low laughter that worked up into a roar of triumph. He froze to the spot, his own black heart growing cold at the malice and the hatred that swirled around him.

It seems the time has come for you to behold my true form.

The tall figure turned, his own robes swishing, and the sight that he saw was one that he remembered till the day he turned to dust. In place of the rags, a mass of flames and shadow and darkness and malice were rolled into one horrendous abomination that could not be described, and he recoiled from it.

This is what I have become. A wraith and shadow without my feä. Even a creature such as you will not know what I am, for 'tis only my spirit that you see.

Twisted as he was and accustomed to evil, the tall figure felt himself shrink in awe.

Once again, you have chosen your side well, King of Kings. My strength returns with the passing of each day. These scrolls contain knowledge so powerful that the firstborn dare not set eyes upon them for fear of temptation. The Dyrian will submit to me, and bring along the jewel. And of course, there is its wielder, whom I believe I shall be very well acquainted with before his time is up.

The master laughed.

Middle-Earth was almost mine once, and through a moment of foolishness I let it slip from my grasp. Through the weakness of Man, I will see that it does not happen again.

***

Elrond's eyes were sombre as Gandalf entered his study.

"Mithrandir," he said.

"Mellon-nîn." His deep voice resounded around the room. "I bring dire news."

Elrond's heart sank. It was not all he could do to not groan and start rubbing his throbbing temples.

"Not two weeks ago, an entire patrol was slaughtered in Eryn Galen. They had been sent to investigate the rumours of stirrings in Dol Goldor. It seems that an ancient evil has reawakened and claimed the stronghold as its own."

This time, Elrond actually groaned out loud. "Another ancient evil? Have I heard this before?"

Gandalf waited for him to compose himself before carrying on.

"It became known to the Istari that the Witch-King of Angmar has risen from the ashes of his last bitter defeat, and that he is rebuilding his fortress within Eryn Galen."

"Why now?" Elrond said, although he already knew the reason.

"It seems we have underestimated the power of the Makleni jewel."

Elrond paled. He had sent his sons into the fray -- all three of them.

"You know it had to be done. Legolas possesses in him the power to destroy -- or wield -- it. You saw what he was capable of doing," Mithrandir said. "Even Saruman --"

"What does he say?"

"Saruman quizzed me about Legolas, and I knew that he too had felt the power in him. Saruman seems to have every confidence that they will not fail in the task."

"What of the Nazgûl?" Elrond said.

"He voiced his doubts that they had returned. If not for that Raberdash had seen them with his own eyes --"

"What?"

"Raberdash saw the Witch-King emerge from the keep at Dol Goldor. He rode a terrifying beast that was twice the size of a normal steed."

"When was this?'

"About ten days ago."

"Last week Imladris was broken into; the Hikarnawen scrolls were stolen."

Gandalf's face grew solemn.

"It is convenient that he chose his rise at a time when another more powerful but less prudent evil arose again, at a time where the Silvan folk are stretched thin and lack the power to retaliate hard and fast. The Orcs and spiders that overran Thranduil's palace were not commanded by the Dyrian."

Elrond was so shocked he found himself at a loss for words.

"Yes, mellon-nîn, the Witch-King has amassed his servants and unleashed his evil in Eryn Galen. The Silvan folk are brave and they are ready to die for their homeland, but I fear for them. Their numbers dwindle and they are weakened by tragedy."

"Not for nothing has the alliance between our two kingdoms been re-forged. I shall see to it that Thranduil shall get all the aid necessary!"

Gandalf smiled sadly. "You must look to your own borders too, Elrond, for I sense stirrings on this side of the mountains. Felnor, Thranduil's captain, told me that although Thranduil would gladly welcome aid, he would not have others fight their battle."

"We stand together in the face of evil. The Witch-King will not be satisfied with making Eryn Galen his own! He would seek to resurrect his master, and what then? We will be hard-pressed to fight both servants of Morgoth, should Sauron rise anew!"

The look on Mithrandir's face hit home, and Elrond slumped back into his chair, stunned at the revelation.

*****
Sindarin Translations:
Feä -- spirit
Mellon-nîn -- my friend