Return from the Void ~Míriel

Chapter 10 ~Darkness Revealed

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Characters

Melkor= Dark Lord of the Silmarillion, also known as Morgoth, is going by the name        Lord Melki

Sauron=Ancient Lieutenant of Melkor, dark lord of the Third Age, is going by the name Salir.

Omar=One of the Haradrim, a rebel captain.

Saruman=Once one of the Istari, is now a fat black pony by the name of Little Barrel

Iorwen=a maid of the Citadel, married to Amandil, watching Eldarion until his parents deem it safe.

Amandil=Guard of the Citadel, married to Iorwen.

Eldarion=son of Aragorn and Arwen, is going by the name Darion

Aragorn= Elessar, King of Gondor, Ruler of the Free World, father of Eldarion

Arwen=Elf, Queen of Gondor, mother of Eldarion

~~~

            Omar growled in frustration at the two lords standing in front of him.  After having disappeared for a whole night, they were simply standing there, arms crossed, with smug looks on their faces.  They had not explained their disappearance, nor had they told him yet what they were planning to do.  Omar had to mentally restrain himself from throttling them. 

            He looked away, and noticed Little Barrel approaching with...was that a child on his back?

            Melki laughed scornfully.  “Are we so low on funds, Omar, that it was necessary to force people to pay to ride upon our pony?”

            Little Barrel arrived before Omar had a chance to reply.  Little Barrel then stomped his foot and whinnied anxiously.  The little boy upon his back studied them with serious grey eyes.

            Salir cleared his throat.  “Little Barrel, who is this...child?”  Salir spat the word child as if it poisoned his mouth. 

            “Does he honestly think that the pony will answer him?”  Omar thought.

            “It’s him!  Prince Eldarion!” the pony exclaimed.

            Omar nearly fell over in shock.  “The pony—talks?”

            “The prince?!”  Salir and Melki cried simultaneously.

            “Yes.  And yes.”  Little Barrel said, answering both questions.

            Salir knelt down to the child’s eye level.  “What is your name?”

            “Eldarion.”  The boy replied.

            “It’s him, I tell you!”  Little Barrel said excitedly.  “He looks exactly like his father!”

            Melki quickly took charge.  “We must leave the city immediately.  To the gates.”

            “The pony—talks?”

            “Yes, Omar, the pony speaks.”  Salir answered, and then sighed.  “I suppose that we must tell you everything.”

            “Not now, you fool!”  Melki said in disgust.

            “My apologies.”

            Little Barrel ahemed.  “Shall we go?”

            “Yes,” said Melki.  “Let us make for the gates posthaste.”

            Make for the gates they did, joining a rather large throng of people and doing a decent job of blending in.  Omar found himself holding his breath each time they walked through one of the many gates, just knowing that they would soon be spotted.

            As they walked, Melki and Salir were formulating a new plan.  Well, not a completely new plan, simply modifications to the old one. 

            “Here, the next step in Our Plan for Taking Over Arda is Step #4.”  Salir was reading their parchment containing said plan as they went along.

            “Is that the one that says ‘Leave Minas Tirith?’”  Melki answered, absently watching Omar hand another dried apricot to Eldarion.

            “Yes.  Now, I’m sure that whoever was watching the prince will notice very soon that he is missing—”

            “You think?”

            “—but I’m sure that they won’t think to look outside Minas Tirith for at least an hour—”

            “One could only hope.”

            “—but I do suggest we take precautionary measures anyway.”

            “And what would that be?”

            “I think that our transportation would be greatly hurried if we were not hindered by a fat pony.”

            Little Barrel stopped abruptly.  “No!  No, you cannot kill me!  No!  You cannot simply leave me here either!”

            Salir sighed.  “That was not what I had in mind.”

            “Oh.”  Little Barrel relaxed and continued walking.

            Salir looked over to Melki.  “I was thinking—”

            “No?  Amazing!”

            “Would you cease your interruptions?  I was thinking that since he was already a pony, how difficult would it be to simply turn him into a stallion?”

            Little Barrel was practically hopping from excitement.  “Oh, yes!  Oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please—”

            “Enough!”  Melki, Salir, and Omar shouted.  Eldarion seemed not to have noticed any of the exchange, paying great attention to his dried apricot.

            Melki nodded.  “Excellent idea.  I believe that it can be done.”

            “Huzzah!”  Little Barrel said jubilantly.  “Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank—”

            “Enough!”

~~~

            Within the hour they had exited the city.  After waiting for the group of travelers they had exited with to get far enough ahead of them, they stopped.

            Omar gently lifted Eldarion, who had fallen asleep, off Little Barrel.  He had never felt any particular attachment to children, but something about this little made him feel almost...paternal?

            “Miriam would have loved this little one.”  He thought sadly.  Had he not decided that preserving the old ways of the Haradrim were so important, perhaps he would have been with Miriam now, surrounded by their own little ones.  “Ah, dear Miriam...if only I could have another chance...”

            “Omar, are you simply going to stand there holding the child, or will you set him down?”

            Melki’s harsh voice brought him out of his thoughts.  Sheepishly, he carefully laid Eldarion onto the soft grass.  After making certain that Eldarion was fine, he turned to Salir and Melki. 

            “I do believe that you owe me an explanation.  The pony speaks?”

            Melki and Salir glanced at each other guiltily. 

            “You have the power to transform him into a stallion?  You can make the city as dark as night?  Who are you?”

            Melki smiled darkly.  “My name,” he said, and then laughed.  “My name.” he repeated.  “Is Melkor.  Perhaps you have heard of me?”

            Omar simply stared.

            “I was called Morgoth by the Eldar.  Cast into the Void by the Valar.”

            Omar shook his head.  “It cannot be...that is but myth...”

            “Myth?” thundered Melkor.  “Myth?  The tall, dark towers of Angband, myth?  The rape of the Silmarils, myth?  The destruction of the Two Trees, is that only myth as well?  Nay, it is reality!  Now, see it before you!”  As he spoke, Melkor seemed to grow taller, and his shape became more like that of a dark and terrible lord.  “Even now, behold, I regain some of my former strength!  Strength lost from eons in the Void, but now, on the surface of Arda, is being regained!”

            Omar had now dropped to his knees in fear.  “My lord,” he whispered.

            Melkor nodded to Salir.  “You will have heard of me.”  Salir said quietly.  “My name is Sauron.”

            Omar gasped.  “I served you, my lord!  In the War of the Ring!”

            “Yes, I know.  Now, serve your master again!”

            “Yes, my lord!”

            They were silent for a moment.  Then, Little Barrel stepped forward. 

            “I, I am Saruman the Many-Colored!”

            Omar blinked.  “Who?”

            “Saruman the Many-Colored!”

            “My apologies, I have not heard of you.”

            “I am the Istari responsible for the many deaths in Helm’s Deep!  The Uruk-hai!  The—”

            “Utter demise of my kingdom,” said Sauron dryly.

            “That was not my fault!”

            “Yes, it was!”

            Saruman turned back to Omar.  “Are you certain you’ve never heard of me?”

            Omar shook his head.

            Saruman sighed, then turned back to Sauron.

            “It was your fault for letting the hobbit slip by!”

            “It was your fault for double crossing me!”

            Melkor waved his hand.  “Enough!”  They fell silent. 

            Eldarion stirred, and they glanced at him in horror.  Melkor quickly reduced his size, as well as his dark aura.  (After all, it would never do to frighten the child to the point of tears.)

            When it became obvious he would not awaken, Saruman spoke.  “Could you not change me now, lord?”

            Melkor straightened.  “I could.”  He uttered several words of an ancient tongue unknown to the ears of Omar.

            Little Barrel quickly grew into a tall black stallion.  He pranced for a moment, delighting in his new (thinner) look. 

            “I propose that you no longer speak of me as ‘Little Barrel.’”

            Melkor waved a hand.  “Fine.  What do you wish to be called?”

            Saruman thought.  “Shadowfax the Second?”

            “No.”

            “Sunfax the Mighty?”

            “No.”

            “Darkfax the Swift?”

            “No.”

            “Snowmane?”

            “You are a black horse.”

            “Coalmane?”

            Sauron snickered.  “Sound like Coalmine.”

            “Ebonymane?”

            Melkor sighed.  “A mouthful, but if it pleases you...”

            “I am Ebonymane!  Fear me, the darkest of all horses!”

            Omar rolled his eyes.  “Should we not make haste?  Surely by now they would have discovered that the child is missing.”

            Melkor nodded.  “Yes.  Take Eldarion, and ride ahead of us to the Pelargir.  Wait for us, and when we arrive, we shall then hasten to Harad.”

            Omar bowed, and then picked up the still-sleeping Eldarion.  They mounted Ebonymane, and Omar glanced back at Sauron.  “How long shall you be?”

            Sauron looked puzzled.  “How long will it take to reach the Pelargir?”

            “On foot?  A week at the least.”

            “We shall see you in a week, then.”

            “Farewell.”  With that, Omar, Eldarion, and Ebonymane rode off across the Pellenor.