Lords and Lordship by WendWriter

Chapter 3

As they drew near to the temple of Moko, Artíre and Rautanor could see the changes wrought in Rhûn under Narcawë's rule. The land, once a patchwork of fertile farmers' fields, with flocks of sheep and goats grazing contentedly among the groves of fruit trees, was an eerie dustbowl. Famine had stalked the country for a long time. As Artíre and Rautanor passed through towns and villages, they could see starving people lolling in their doorways, scanning the road for signs of the caravans of merchants that once travelled the roads. Scrawny Men, women and children could be seen searching the dried-up fields for any kind of food, and when they opened their mouths, their stumpy teeth were falling out from lack of nourishment; they were reduced to eating the leaves from the few trees that had any.

Many of the villages were completely empty, their folk having left in search of food, abandoning their fields and homes. In the towns, the few folk dwelling there were either too old or too young to travel far, and scavenged where they could. The absence of dogs, rats and small birds told its own tale. Most of the rivers were either dried up or oozing sluggishly along in their muddy channels.

The invisibility of the two unembodied Maiar allowed them to pass unseen through the land. Any traveller passing through was usually accosted, and more often than not, robbed and killed.

"This is appalling," said Artíre. "I have never seen the like. It is like..." he stopped himself just in time. He had almost said "Angband." That would have given Rautanor ammunition to use against him in Morgoth's court. The Watcher would have to be careful, weighing every word before it left his mouth.

Rautanor was clearly too horrified to answer. Though the plains of Anfauglith looked very much like the wasteland they saw before them, the creatures that lived there were fed and watered, to keep them in readiness for service to Morgoth. "So this is the realm of Narcawë," Rautanor remarked. "He has no concept of lordship at all."

"Indeed not," agreed Artíre. "He has brought ruin to this land, but for what purpose? I could understand the need to reduce the harvest to ensure the obedience of the people, but to utterly destroy them is to diminish the lord of the realm. It is a foolish policy." The Watcher was bemused by the fact that anyone would consider doing such a thing. The scenes he witnessed as he passed by made him uneasy. What was he going to discover in the temple of Moko?

"Agreed," declared Rautanor. "We must find out why he has done this. What do you think?"

"It seems he may have done this to spite our lord," said Artíre thoughtfully. "Perhaps he did not truly believe he could hold on to this realm in defiance of the will of Morgoth."

"It is unlikely he has many who support him," Rautanor added.

"True," said Artíre, "but if he has Maiar on his side willing to fight for him, we may have to bargain with him to avoid being made captive." The memory of having been bound to the body of the beetle the last time he was there rose unbidden to torment the Watcher. If that should happen again, would Rautanor aid him - or join forces with Narcawë and continue the feud that Sauron had declared to be ended?

"Are you aware of any other malcontents, Artíre?" asked Rautanor, anxiety tainting his voice.

The Watcher fell silent. Answering that question straight away, without considering every possible inflection, could easily cause the smouldering resentment Rautanor bore him to reignite. "I only know what I have been told: that Narcawë has turned against our lord and seized control of Rhûn to rule it as a realm of his own. I have not been back here since the time Sauron was holding the land in trust for Morgoth." Surely there was nothing contentious in those few words? Artíre hoped not. The continuing sensation that he was walking on the edge of a razor was beginning to show in the slight tremor his voice had acquired.

Rautanor considered this for a while, then said, "We must tread very carefully, Artíre. If we walk in and make demands, those who may have been undecided will turn on us. If we are respectful towards the Defiant One, he may agree to come back with us of his own accord."

"I had a plan for dealing with him," said Artíre.

"Tell me," Rautanor demanded, stopping for a moment.

Artíre faced the Plotter, his steely gaze demanding the respect he believed was his due. "I was going to tell him that Lord Morgoth was pleased with him and wished to reward him. I hoped that flattery would blind him to the fact that our lord desires to punish him."

Rautanor scoffed at the Watcher. "Surely you are under a delusion of some kind, Artíre! How do you think such a plan would work? Why would Narcawë believe such a thing?"

"Because," declared Artíre, "I would have convinced him that Sauron your master had fallen out of favour. Your being here means I have to think of something else!"

The tension that had built up steadily up due to Rautanor's presence erupted in Artíre's outburst. The Watcher had made it clear that he resented Rautanor's presence and that his assistance was not only unwanted but was potentially a liability. Hopefully, the Plotter would consider working together with him instead of attempting to undermine him, which was a possibility. Why else would Rautanor laugh at his plan? Artíre had successfully persuaded others to believe what he wanted to, so why would he fail this time? The more time he spent with Rautanor, the less he trusted the Plotter to aid him. Artíre was convinced that Rautanor had come to restart the feud with Sauron, and to exact revenge for the events at Tol-in-Gaurhoth. Surely the Plotter's dismissal of the Watcher's plan was proof of that?

Rautanor was silent for a while, pondering Artíre's words. "We cannot fail in our mission to bring Narcawë back to Morgoth for judgment. If we do, the consequences will fall on both our heads. I have no doubt that our presence here has been declared to the Defiant One. I know the two of you were friendly the last time you were here. If Narcawë still believes that you and Sauron are still at war, let us use that to our advantage. We can let him think he is playing us against each other, and convince him to confide in one of us. We may be able to trick him into coming back to aid one of us against the other."

Artíre considered what Rautanor said. The advantage of the plan was that Narcawë would easily believe that Rautanor had been sent to spy on the Watcher. The disadvantage was that it would be difficult to tell if Rautanor was playing a role or not. The plan was fraught with danger, with no guarantee of success, but to oppose the plan could lead to more trouble from Rautanor, so Artíre said, "Let us see how he receives us first, then we will decide what to do."

It occurred to the Watcher that it was possible to play Rautanor and Narcawë off each other. If anything happened to Rautanor, Narcawë could be blamed. "It is a good idea," he said aloud, smiling at the thought that the Plotter believed he was referring to his idea.

By the time Artíre and Rautanor arrived at the temple of Moko, night had fallen. Thick clouds blanketed the sky and the air was hot and humid, promising rain it always failed to deliver. The two Maiar were aware of being watched by other Maiar as they approached the steps of the temple, which, of all the buildings in the city, was the only one in good repair.

The door swung open to admit them, and they entered. Near the altar stood obscenely fat priests bowed in prayer before the statue of Moko, which looked a lot like Narcawë did when he assumed a form. The Defiant One stood, unembodied, near the foot of the dais the altar sat upon. "Hail, Artíre! Hail, Rautanor! Well met!" he greeted them.

"Hail, Narcawë lord of Rhûn!" declared Artíre. "I see you have made improvements to the realm since I saw it last."

"Indeed," added Rautanor, getting into the spirit of the moment, "I would say it looks like home." It was not hard to hide his distaste - the ability to do so in Angband was a requisite for survival there.

"I thank you both," said Narcawë, the flattery carving a smile onto his face. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?"

"We have come to see what you have achieved here, that we may learn from you," said Artíre.

The Maiar who had been watching them when they arrived had come inside the temple, and were beginning to surround them.

"Indeed," said Rautanor, noticing this, "we were most impressed at the way you have stamped your authority all over this land." The Plotter stole glances around the temple, aware of the impending danger. Having been there when Artíre was bound to the body of the beetle, he knew what was likely to happen now, and inwardly cursed the Watcher for allowing this. What could either of them do? Would Artíre, who had so much reason to hate him, side with him or take sides with Narcawë to protect himself?

Rautanor was about to find out. He and Artíre were completely surrounded.