The sky was so dark that Torvin would sooner categorize it as a night instead of an early morning. He breathed in the freezing air, shivering a little, despite the volcanic landscape around him.
Even against the fiery orange light of lava around them, the dwarf hunter was barely able to keep track of the dark silhouette of a Northman before him as their hunt took the pair deeper and deeper into the hellish landscape that is Gorgoroth.
Talion moved swiftly and quietly, his burning green eyes always keeping to the trail he somehow managed to lose track of two times already. After all the months of endless warfare, endless peace talks planning and sleep-infusing politics, the ranger was finally running out of steam. Torvin stroked his regrowing and slowly greying beard.
"How are ya holdin' up cap'n? Ye don' look too well."
Only the low rumble of the volcano in the distance and the dwarf's tired huff could be heard as Talion, as silent as death, jumped over another obstacle in his way, not registering Torvin's question.
"Ya know I have the utmost respect for the hunt, but I think ye might be going a bit overboard."
Nothing but the Mount Doom's ambience followed once more as Talion kept on following the rebel captain's tracks. Torvin frowned.
"Look cap'n, if you don't wanna talk than just-uh!"
Talion suddenly dragged the confused hunter behind a few boulders, carefully peeking out of their hiding place.
"What do ye think yer..."
"Calm down, just look."
Torvin followed the ranger's gaze and true enough, a few hundred meters away from their hiding spot, was the subject of their hunt, the fallen warchief Hûga Sharpshooter. The rebel orc seemed to have finally gone crazy. He was shooting at all the different columns of rising dark smoke, while shouting random profanities without any rhyme or reason to it.
Torvin did his best to look for the rebel captain's target, but saw nothing but a lot of smoke and a fast-moving dark cloud. A curiously fast cloud, which was getting closer to Hûga by the second. The last thing Torvin registered before being dragged back behind the boulders was Hûga's agonized cries, a stream of lava-like heat and a pair of fiery eyes in the smoke looking straight at him.
Even despite the thick wall of rock between them and the captain, Torvin could still feel the hell that was unleashed upon the unfortunate orc. It seemed like an eternity before the hysterical cries of the orc finally stopped and with them the torturous heat. There was a moment of silence before Talion stood up and started to make his way out of their hiding spot. Torvin must have sounded more distressed than he thought based on the nazgûl's expression.
"What do ya think yer doin'? Have ye lost yer mind? Ye will get burned as well!"
"No, I won't."
The hunter only barely resisted the urge to slap of Talion's smirk of his face. He still tried his best to hold the now seemingly crazy ranger back and yet, Talion had a kind of certainty to his step. Despite the growing dread within him, Torvin could not help himself but watch from behind the rocks and boulders as Talion stood right next to the pile of dust that used to be Hûga and stared straight into the two fiery dots within the smoke.
After a moment of absolute silence, the tense moment was lightened as the eyes gave the nazgûl a slow blink. With a few soft clicking noises the eyes lowered down and out of the smoke revealing one, if not the biggest elemental Firedrake that Torvin's ever seen. Talion's smile widened as his hellish green eyes softened significantly.
"I have missed you, beautiful."
The drake gave out a satisfied bark-like sound, keeping her head low to the ground, showing her submission to the ranger, as she carefully approached the smiling nazgûl.
The drake itself was, in Torvin's eyes at least, absolutely stunning to behold. It was as big, if not a little bigger than a fellbeast, with scales as black as obsidian and as shinny as glass. Under every scale, there was a soft orange glow of the fires within the drake which completely enfolded the skin parts of the wings, making them look as if they were made of living lava. Instead of the usual skull-like head-armouring, this drake's head was a smooth black piece of a scale armour with it morphing into two horns at the broader end. In addition to having the two wings and two strong hind legs, this drake also grew a pair of small front legs, even though they were too fin and small as to be used for anything but balance purposes. The beast was a source of immense heat to the point where Torvin had a difficulty breathing even from behind the rocks.
As if not registering the creature's scourging temperature, rows of sharp teeth and sharp but interested look, Talion brought the drake's head closer to his own, simply examining the curious eyes looking back at him.
"You don't trust the eyes, do you?"
The drake crooned softly and carefully leaned into Talion's touch, rubbing the side of its face into his palm. Talion started caressing the now satisfied looking drake.
"You can come out now, Torvin. She will not attack, thought she might be curious..."
Talion fell to his knees and absentmindedly started caressing the, now lying down, drake which purred happily. Torvin, still not willing to believe in the drake's apparent friendliness, carefully came out of his hiding place, taking calculated steps towards his friend. The drake eyed the dwarf as he approached but was too distracted with Talion to care about the hunter himself.
"Who's yeh friend there, cap'n?"
Talion gave him a light-hearted smile.
"She used to be my mount to the end of shadow wars. I had no idea she survived the last eruption of mount Doom."
Torvin's brows furrowed, in combination with a light smile, furrowed in interest.
"Does the lady have a name?"
Talion, to the mild discontent of the drake, stopped caressing the pitch-black scales in favour of trying to fish out some kind of information out of his broken mind. It took a moment for the nazgûl to move again.
"Not one that I can recall."
"Want to give 'er one now? I'd be a right shame for a beautiful beast like 'er to go without."
There was silence once more, but it has weighted down with the ranger's palpable and yet unspoken sadness.
"I've never been good with names."
"'S fine, no need to get grumpy 'bout it. Though yeh drake did interrupt our hunt and it's not like we're goin' to get much intel out of the bastard now."
Torvin poked the burned husk of the deceased orc with the tip of his boot moments before the drake rushed it and started flinging it left and right like a chewing toy. Talion, still sitting on the ground, watched the scene with a certain content to his expression. Torvin finally closed the distance between himself and his hunting partner, plopping down next to him with a heavy sigh.
"Well, now're we goin' back home with a drake? It's not like we can leave it 'ere."
"We are not."
"Come again?"
"I mean, we are not going back just yet."
"'nd why's that?"
"Well first off, that" Talion gestured towards the drake who was still tearing the corpse to pieces, "is not normal behaviour."
Torvin lighted his pipe, puffing small clouds of smoke.
"I s'pose, if she were on an actual hunt, she wouldn't have used 'er fire breathing to kill the pray of and she most certainly wouldn' 'ave done... whatever she's doin' to it right now."
The nazgûl gave a light smile of content.
"Precisely. She is not just hunting, she's hunting somebody down, which actually brings me to my second point."
The dwarf raised a brow in curiosity.
"Which's?"
"Slave liberation, my friend. Her next target is, not just a thief, but also a slaver."
Torvin could not help but let the grimace of disgust appear on his features.
"So... When ya wanna do this?"
~°•°~
Gorgoroth plains, 3 hours later
~°•°~
Torvin thought he was going to cave in from not being able to catch his breath for the past few hours. He lost Talion multiple times, only being able to locate him thanks to the oddly shaped smoky disguise of his drake, continuously flying circle around him. Catching up to him took the dwarf a few minutes, barely getting any breath in because of exhaustion.
"I don't usually like to be that person, but are we there yet? Don't know how much longer I can run."
Talion let out an amused chuckle.
"Don't worry, my friend. We're almost there."
True to his word, it took them only an hour of agonizing sprint to finally reach the top of a small hill, overlooking a, very obviously, quite newly build rebel outpost.
The wooden walls of the outpost, which were a hazard by themselves, were made of fresh wood not bearing any signs of a battle. The outpost was composed of flimsy looking tents and rusting cages, with only the main building being somewhat competent looking, considering that it was carved into the face of the mountain that the outpost leaned against. The stone structure was not of orc origin as it lacked the sharp efficiency and convenience of their usual architectural design. Instead, despite still seaming simplistic, the structure two identifiable floors, with a few decorative miniature towers and some pillars at its entrance with a few of them creating a pathway a little way into the outpost itself.
Despite its small size however, the slaver's den was very heavily patrolled. There were about fifty grunts on and outside the walls with and at the very least a hundred grunts and five captains inside, poking the slaves through the cage bars, laughing brutishly as they did so.
Even with the slaughter tribe insignia on the banners all around the outpost, one could very easily confuse it for that of the mythic tribe, considering all the bones and rotting corpses all around the outpost as well as adoring the outpost's main, and only, building and outer walls.
Despite the distance between them and the outpost, Torvin still reflexively shifted behind a boulder a little, disgusted by the stench of death while Talion came out of their temporary hiding place, sitting on top of the rocky formation, with the drake laying underneath him, and glaring at the constructs as if wishing them to burn where they stood.
"There's too many, cap'n. Ye might want to get some reinforcements for this one."
There was a short pause. Talion's voice was like a low rumble, his eyes never leaving the slave outpost as he spoke.
"I- We cannot leave them like this, even if just for a day or two. This outpost will burn, and it will burn today."
"Don't think it'll be that easy just by seein' all the grunts around. They'll see us if we sneak and simply cut us down. Not to mention that we don't even know who's lead the rubble of graug dung."
"What's actually a good point..."
"I know it is."
"...We'll need a distraction big enough to draw most of the orcs into the main building or..."
"What? Wait, no! That's not... Look," At this point Torvin was completely out of his hiding place, forgetting the smell that he tried to shield himself from, "if ye really want to save 'hem than ye'll need more than just glorious me and yeh fiery lady over there."
"I agree. Which is why I will need you to direct the slaves out of the outpost as I and my soon to be associates distract the slavers and my 'fiery lady' burns the whole damn place to the ground."
Torvin's confusion was almost palpable and yet a light smile appeared upon his face.
"What did ya've planed this time?"
Talion smiled a small, exited smile.
"Can you whistle?"
Torvin's eyebrow shot up so fact it could have flown of completely.
~°•°~
Slaver outpost, 30 minutes later
~°•°~
Chaos. That is the only word that came to Skág the Master's mind as he looked out over his outpost.
And to think that all the chaos and fear was caused by a single pink skin turned shrieker, making orc turn on orc or scaring the grunts into fleeing simply with his presence. Whoever dared to stand in his way was cut down without a single word or acknowledgement, always getting closer to Skág's personal fortress.
Those of his remaining grunts that managed to survive, without being raised to betray their comrades to the cloaked nazgûl, were following the group of corpses to the main building's entrance, swords drawn and spitting different insults at the shrieker and his newly acquired company but keeping out of the reach of their swords.
A wide, but crooked smirk appeared on the warchief's face as he turned to his now panicked looking followers.
"Finally, the tark has come. Prepare the slaves!"
~°•°~
Talion opened the heavy double-door with a well-practiced motion. His black armoured boots clacked against the polished stone fool. His newly 'recruited' followers moved quickly despite being undead behind him, closing and barricading the doors from the now angered mob of orcs, leaning against the iron ornamented masterwork just for good measure.
No, this was most definitely not an orc structure by origin.
Strangely enough Talion's footsteps, the soft clinging of his dark armour and the gentle swaying of rusty cages hanging from the ceiling in combination with the muffled anger from behind the iron gate were the only sounds resonated throughout the stone hall.
Surprisingly, besides the hanging cages above his head and a few misplaced grog barrels, the halls were neat and full of heavy stillness. There were a few doors to the sides of the hall, but Talion's gaze lay upon the biggest doors at the end of it, the smell of blood coming from them field his rage and gave haste to his every step, twirling his green glowing blade in anticipation of a battle.
Barging through the dark wooden door revealed a sight which Talion could only ever compare to the dungeons of Barad-dûr when it still stood. His stomach almost turned in on himself at the sight of the walls covered with human and orc dried skins, contrasting floor of dried blood and a kind of an altar made of bone and rags.
Talion's eyes met that of his grinning rival's, burning with rage. Skág's deep laughter engulfed the hall like the roll of an immense and remote drum beating the charge of an army. The sound was so loud to the point where the ranger did not even register the carnal noises from the orc's lackeys frown his way as they encircled and blocked his way.
As if trying to pour more salt to the injury, Skág apparently was of the opinion that dragging, what looked to be, an eight-year-old by her hair as he stepped in front of the sadistic altar, taking immense joy in the sobbing child's attempts of freeing herself from Skág's iron grip while muttering inaudible please of mercy.
The orc captain's voice remained amused and pleased as he spoke.
"Look what've we 'ere boys, his royal highness the Gravewalker."
A hungry sniggering rang out of the group as their leader mockingly bowed. Talion dared not break the back of the silence building up with the rage and insults that would undoubtedly come out. Skág turned his head to the side in a moment of confusion.
"Not so talkative as I thought, are ye my lord?"
Silence followed once more. The orcs did not seem as amused as before. Skág growled.
"Speak you fucking tark!"
To the orc's infuriation, the hooded nazgûl turned to the shaking girl, his eyes unseen but still felt the child quieted down and returned the gaze, worry and anticipation radiating out of her soul in waves.
"Close your eyes, my child. You don't need to witness what is to come next."
The girl's frightened yelp was only the peak of the fright and coldness that filled the room. Despite himself, Skág, just like his followers, took a step back in a pointless effort to try and dodge the reverbed voice. He growled and put his knife to the girl's neck, only enforcing the child's crying.
"YOU... aren't gonna do a thing! Move a muscle and she dies, ya HEAR ME?! You'ren't goin' to be the end of me or anyone 'ere except the lil' swine, got it!?"
Talion's head shot up, the visible part of his face as if carved of stone.
"No, I will not. But, then again, I am not the only one who seeks your death."
A sew seconds were the precursor to Skág's hysterical and yet relieved bark-like laughter.
"You-you knew you'd never be able to kill me did ye? So, who was it supposed to be? Who's supposed end me, hmm? O-one of those traitor you order around? O-or was it-was it supposed to be done by-*ahaha* by one of aHAhaha one of those useless shrack of a slave hoard? *HAHAHAHA-AAAAAh*!!!"
A content smile spread upon Talion's face as he and the horrified orc lackeys watched the orc captain be raised a little into the air, choked by the green transparent hand.
"You were pretty close, I admit. Though not quite."
The ghost slave's face twisted into a deranged grin as he threw Skág against the altar, turning next to the now frantic grunts. And yet... he did not move. He could not. The ghost's eyes could have burned a hole in the nazgûl's arm that was holding him back. Talion did not even glance at the spectre, instead choosing to stare at the floor.
"You're free to kill, but if you kill anybody besides your captors you will answer to my wrath."
The ghost let out an unearthly growl as more ghosts started joining the hunt for revenge. With all the wraiths out of the room, Talion turned his eyes back to the rasping Skág, lying in the pool of his own black blood. His eyes were quickly becoming increasingly unfocused as he tried his best to throw his hateful blare at the indifferent nazgûl, a small smirk on his face.
"My *cough*... brother will avan*cough*ge me."
Talion's head fell to the side as he put his still glowing sword into its scabbard.
"Brother?"
Despite being pained by the action, Skág put on display his crooked teeth in a victorious smirk.
"Brother, *cough* yes, Hûga..."
The nazgûl got down on his knee, making sure the dying orc heard every word.
"Your brother is dead."
The frozen expression of shock and terror on Skág's corpse evoked nothing but the expanding feeling of emptiness within Talion. The nazgûl's brooding was interrupted by a soft, heart-breaking sound. There, on the bony altar, cried the little slave girl over the corpse of Skág's bane. Talion grabbed a ring of keys off the orc's belt, moving softly, but still making sound as to make sure he does not startle the child more than she already was. He stood about two meters away from the child, taking a moment to survey the sight.
On closer inspection, the girl could not have been older than five years old, with her unwanted and unkept blond hair falling over her face and hiding it out of Talion's sight. Her arms and legs were dirty to the point of being blackened as the rags she wore barely hanged off her fragile looking body. Talion chose to concentrate his eyes upon the dead man's pale, hairless face, knowing that his voice will scare the child enough without seeing his eyes, still ablaze with anger.
"I... know this is hard for you."
The girl only hurried herself deeper crying harder, whimpering between the heaving sobs with only one phrase that Talion could make out.
"I wan' papa back!"
That was enough to knock the air out of Talion's lungs, leaving him speechless for a full minute.
"I'm sorry little one, but he's not coming back..."
"NO! You lie! He always come back fo' me! He promis!"
"I'm afraid that not this time..."
There was a few minute pause before the child's sobbing quieting down a little. The girl looked at Talion, her unwashed face only emphasizing her big brown eyes, fresh tears running down her fallen in face.
"How do you know?"
Talion threw a quick glance at the still mistrustful but curious girl before, finally, making his mind up. He slowly lowered himself to the floor, leaning is back against a nearby wall. He started slowly unwrapping the bandages on his left hand revealing the hole punctured by the Hammer as well as the half-awake silver ring.
"Because I'm dead as well."
Whenever transfixed by the wound or the ring itself, the girl, though still occasionally hiccupping with tears here and there, slowly got off the altar, carefully approaching the nazgûl and inspecting his extended hand. Talion did his best to stay still and to not give into the flinching, knowing that any sudden move could scare the child of.
The girl inspected the hand from every angle, tried to read the writing on the rind and even put her finger into the gaping wound just to see if it was real. Talion waited until the child looked calm and distracted enough to speak once more.
"Don't worry, little one. Death is just another journey, one that everyone must take. And once you go down that path, you shall see it."
The, now intrigued, child listened with a sense of wonder.
"See what?"
"White shores, and beyond, a far green country with our pa, smiling, waiting for you there."
The tears stared, although quietly, flow down from the huge brown orbs once more.
"I wanna go now..."
"I know. But not just yet. Who would be here to write your adventures?"
The kid's eyes, if it even were possible, widened more with curiosity.
"Adventures?"
"Yes, you can still grow up to be a magical healer, a daring explorer or even a... What is wrong little one?"
The child was very obviously on the verge of another breakdown as she spoke in-between her raspy sobs.
"Am I free?"
Talion was surprised to say the least. He expected this question of the adults that understood the condition that they were in, never a child. He carefully shifted himself from his sitting position into kneeling down upon one knee before the hopeful girl, never taking his hand out of her terrifyingly weak grip, so that he was on her eye-level.
"If I may ask, what's your name my lady?"
The child just stood there, quietly stunned for a moment with a ghost of a smile, even if just for a moment, appearing upon the girl's face.
"I'm Kaia."
"It's an honour to get to know you. You can call me Talion and, on that name, I promise that you are and always will be free. Ok?"
All the child managed to do was to shake her head in agreement. Talion gave the tired Kaia a light smile.
"Good. Now, how would you like to see baby drakes?"
"Baby dragons?"
Kaia say still sounding sad, but curious as well, yawning greatly as she asked Talion to pick her up with a gesture. The ranger happily obliged as he carefully stood up, the little girl nestling down against his chest plate.
"No, drakes are a little different."
Talion walked out of the disturbing rooms and into the halls taking a turn every now and then, answering Kaia's questions until the exhausted child fell asleep in his arms. He did not fear any ambushes at this point, he could feel nothing but death around him, except for a few signatures of life. It took about fifteen minutes to find them, but he was finally free to walk out of the disrespected structure, a starving human child in one hand and six starving drake children in the other. At least he was able to grab a basket for the latter on the way out.
The rising sun illuminated the plains of Gorgoroth with an orange and yet somehow cold light. Torvin seemed a little shocked by Kaia but chose not to question it as the adult drake made a b-line for the whimpering basket.
"S'pose the transparent ones were called by ye then."
"Yes, but we should move quickly back. We don't have enough supplies to keep the refugees alive for long."
"And what do you plan to do with us?"
One of the adult slaves asked, supporting the weight of an orc slave. The whole group turned its attention to the nazgûl and dwarf duo.
"Ye're free to do as ye wish. Ye're no slaves anymore. If ye come with us to Minas Morgul we'll either give ye a home, food and a job or supplies for yeh journey onward."
"What about the lizards?"
One of the slaves pointed to the happy mother drake looking into the basked with little drakeling heads trenching out towards her on noodle-like necks, making happy clicking, and what almost sounded like cooing, noises in response to their curious parent. Putting down the basket, minding the six drakelings as well as the sleeping girl, Talion looked straight at the slaves, ignoring the pounding headache.
"The... 'lizards' are none of your concern."
Like a herd of sheep, the slaves hurled together, terror on every one of their faces before the reverb from Talion's voice settled down.
"It's a nazgûl!"
"HE set ye free! Either calm down an' come with us or take the supplies an' leave."
Torvin's presence, however physically small, was enough to get through to the refugees and get them moving. Torvin turned to Talion who seemed too preoccupied with watching the drakes. The dwarf came to stand next to his hunting partner, giving him a quick a quick look before turning to face.
"Well, at least one of 'hem likes ye."
Talion let out a soft sigh.
"She was in shock. No doubt she would trust whoever showed any sympathy at that point."
Torvin, obviously getting tired, simply rolled his eyes.
"Whenever she did or not, we still need to move a bloody big group to the bastion. Come on cap'n, there's no rest for us yet."
Talion turned his gaze to the ground.
"You were right."
Torvin raised an eyebrow at the fallen ranger who smiled softly in return.
"We do need to start an actual orphanage."
~°•°~
Meanwhile, miles and miles away
~°•°~
"They're not asking for anyone impartial, they're asking for a representative of Gondor and as much as I agree with your point of view, you have to agree that..."
"That, with you being a Maiar, you are still one of the worst choices available?"
Gandalf threw the see-through wraith an annoyed glare, about ready to throw his politeness out the window, but he still did not answer. Celebrimbor, once again, had a point. After an hour of listening to both sides of the argument, Aragorn finally felt confident enough to face the duo. It took him just a moment to put on his regal face, showing the wraith that his mind was set.
" I appreciate your suggestions, but it's a risk I'm willing to take."
"Then prepare that it'll most probably refuse to speak to any of you in the first place. I admit that by leaving the nazgûl behind, I might have worsened it's scepticism."
Aragorn took a sip of his wine before answering the concerned looking elf king, he himself trying to look assured of his opinion.
"Well, it's like you said. He's a nazgûl now, meaning he doesn't have much ground to stand on, especially in negotiations."
Celebrimbor took a step back.
"Not to mention that we have certain someones whom he'd like back."
Gandalf glared at the wraith angrily.
"Do not think yourself above morality. You of all cannot afford such a lie. The rangers could provide us with some ground for negotiations, yes, but you're missing something extremely important."
Celebrimbor frowned.
"What am I missing?"
"They're children. We do not gamble with children's lives. No matter how convenient or beneficial the risk might seem."
Celebrimbor barely even managed to open his mouth to answer when a cascade of screams could be heard from the prisoners' tent. Brandishing their weapons, both Aragorn and Gandalf rushed out of the king's tent ignoring all the shocked and confused faces around them. Despite not seeing him, Aragorn could still feel the wraith's presence next to him as they ran.
The scene within the tent was as if out of a fewer dream. There, on the ground lay an exhausted but otherwise unharmed looking Éowyn. Leaning against the cells was an uruk, dark skin drenched in blood and sweat, trying his best to push out the sword's blade. The furious Grand-general, however, Heald it steadily in place.
"WHERE ARE THEY?!!!"
Dirhael's voice was full of spite and anger as he screamed at the laughing uruk. That is when Aragorn finally looked beyond them. The cells were empty with one of the Gondorian soldiers lying on the ground dead next to them, blood stains all over the iron bars. A chill went down his spine as Dirhael pressed on.
"SPEAK YOU FILTH!!!"
It took a moment for the wet laughter to stop. The uruk looked up with a wide grin on his face. However, his eyes seemed to have some distant glow to them. His breath was heavily laboured.
"Take your vengeance, tark. Seal your victory."
Gandalf stepped next to the hurting Grand-general, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
"This is not wise, my friend. Nor does this decision lie with you alone. We will gain nothing out of his death and Mordor could just send another. But, if we imprison him..."
Dirhael ripped himself out of the wizard's grasp.
"Against his kind there can only be blood for blood!"
Dirhael's sword cut through the orc's abdomen like butter, sending a spray of black flying around the tent. The uruk fell to the ground with a thud, his maniacal grin deepening as he started slowly drowning in his own blood.
"So much for your... unity. The trap... at last... has... sprang......."
With those words, the light left the orc's eyes as he finally stopped moving. Celebrimbor chose this moment to reappear once more, leaning over the corpse as Aragorn and Gandalf checked on Éowyn.
"It seems that our enemy realized the importance of the 'children' as well."
There was no time to answer the wraiths mockery as the camp descended to chaos, with Aragorn already organising search parties for any other soldiers that might have escaped with Éowyn, Gandalf treating the already mentioned commander and Dirhael just sitting in the corner of the tent, still in shock from what might have happened.