Lords and Lordship by WendWriter

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Chapter 5

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Artíre was shocked at how easily Narcawë had turned against him while he was away. It seemed that if anyone revealed their hatred of another, the Defiant One would seize upon it at once without question. He remembered his last conversation with Narcawë.

 

"What are we going to do about Sauron?" asked Narcawë.

"Nothing, for the moment," replied Artíre. "Let us do as we said we would, observing the progress of Sauron's work here in Rhûn and preparing the reports to bring back to Morgoth. Our lord told me he would have no squabbling in the ranks, so our report should contain nothing bad about his lieutenant. Let Sauron believe about us what he will. His own suspicions may yet condemn him."

"Indeed," replied Narcawë, "for he ever seeks to sunder us from our friends, and if we present a better picture of him than he does of us, then he will be seen as the one who is working against our lord's interests when he complains about us."

"Then that is what we should do," said Artíre. "Give him as little to say about us as possible while intimating that we are not impressed with him at all. His own mouth will condemn him at the throne of Morgoth in Angband.

 

Narcawë had feared and hated Sauron then. Did he feel the same way, Artire wondered, or was there another reason for this change in his attitude towards the Watcher? One thing was certain: it would be a mistake to underestimate the Defiant One. He was like a lion with his prey where maintaining his power and position was concerned - unwilling to give it up and insistent on saving face in front of Rautanor and Artíre. Did Narcawë take to hatred so easily because it gave him a reason to gather other Maiar to fight for his cause? It seemed so. Strong emotions, such as hatred or anger, were like a beacon to some beings, drawing them into situations they would normally take no interest in. They could then be induced to form factions to war against others, and all on the basis of another person's feelings!

Artíre had seen such things before, but never as plainly as this: Narcawë's fear and hatred of Sauron had led him to look for sympathizers. He had discussed his bitterness towards Sauron with the other Maiar, and found they felt the same way. Constant repetition of their grievances had compounded, not resolved them, and had led to their rebellion against Morgoth's rule, for Sauron was the chief lieutenant of Morgoth, so to rebel againt one was to betray the other.

Clearly, Narcawë felt he owed his lordship of Rhûn not to Sauron, who had given him charge of the realm, but to those Maiar who had joined with him in rebelling against Sauron's overlordship. The Watcher knew he would have to be very careful of every word he said, for Narcawë seemed to be afraid that his realm would be taken from him as swiftly as he had gained it. At least twenty Maiar had joined Narcawë, all of them following the one who would ultimately bear the blame for their revolt.

The Watcher looked warily around at the hostile crowd, aware he was on very thin ice. One misstep would send him crashing through.

Narcawë glared at him. "Well?" he shouted, "have neither of you anything to say to me?"

"I do," said Artíre, hoping his gamble would pay off.

"And what is that, Artíre?" asked Narcawë, loathing in every syllable.

Artíre knew he needed protection from the spells Narcawë was sure to use against him. Being surrounded and outnumbered, the few protective spells he knew were unlikely to avail him now, for any spell he used would quickly be countered by the others. It occurred to him that he did have something to use as a weapon. He had some information that might frighten Narcawë's rebels, at least enough to allow himself and Rautanor to escape.

He had no intention of befriending Rautanor - Artíre knew that the first chance the Plotter got, he would find an excuse to persecute the Watcher again. However, there was a chance that he could use Rautanor as a shield, or even a distraction of some kind. He would have to be very careful how he used this information, but one thing was certain: silence was not an option.

"Well?" Narcawë interrupted the Watcher's deliberations.

"I was sent by Morgoth to arrest you and to bring you back for judgement. Rautanor was sent by Sauron to make sure I did not befriend you instead," asserted Artíre.

Everyone went silent. They had not expected anything like this.

Narcawë took a step back. "Arrest me?" he asked, trying to sound unconcerned but not convincing anyone.

"Yes, it is true," replied Artíre. "Rautanor?"

Rautanor was silent. The Watcher had served his dish of revenge cold, garnished with a lie. He looked at Artíre as a condemned man would at his executioner as he approached the scaffold.

"Rautanor agrees," said Artíre. "And I think you can all agree that any attempt by myself to take your lord away without his leave would be a foolish thing to do."

"True," said Narcawë, looking warily at the Watcher. "So what will you do? If you fail to report back to Morgoth, will he not send others here?"

"Are you not the lord of this land?" asked Artíre. He could see that Narcawë was caught off-guard, and knew it. Truths were filtering through the defences of denial he had erected in his quest for power. To quail before these two underlings would be to admit failure. He sensed a trap, and was being careful to avoid being caught. The Watcher noticed his confusion and pressed home his advantage. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Sauron asked me to hold this realm in trust for him while he went back to Angband," said the Defiant One. "This I have done. I see no reason for you to have come here, other than to spy on me, and to bring back a bad report if you can."

The other Maiar shifted anxiously. They were afraid of being thought in league with The Defiant One, especially now that Narcawë appeared to be changing his mind about holding a realm of his own. They began to back away from Artíre and Rautanor.

Narcawë saw this and realized he was not only losing face, but the control of his realm and his followers was slipping away. "You and Rautanor have come to make trouble for me!" he accused.

"What are you going to do?" asked Artíre, on a knife-edge of suspense. One false step could lead to both himself and Rautanor being destroyed. He had heard rumours of such a thing taking place at Angband, and did not want to discover whether the tales were true or not. He hoped that, by keeping his tone firm, he could convince Narcawë of the possibility of an army from Morgoth coming to take him prisoner. This possibility was all that stood between himself and annihilation.

Narcawë considered this, then said, "If you and Rautanor have not come here to make trouble for me, and you are telling the truth, why have only two of you come?"

The time had come to offer a sacrifice here in the temple. Artíre had used up all his options. Morgoth had sent him here alone because he had faith in the Watcher's wiles as a spy. Rautanor's presence had complicated matters. Narcawë was confused, but he was also unwilling to give up his position and power. One thing was certain: while he believed in the possibility of the army of Morgoth coming to bring him to judgement, he did not believe in the certainty of it. That small difference in the Defiant One's perception was going to lead to the demise of Rautanor.

"Because Rautanor suggested deceiving you into coming back to Angband to be rewarded by Morgoth for your service to him!" shouted Artíre, pointing dramatically at the Plotter.

"That is a lie!" Rautanor wailed, desperation dragging the last word to a high-pitched tone.

"He honestly thought you would believe it!" Artíre sneered, moving towards Narcawë, who was standing near the altar. There was a grille on the floor beside it, where the blood and fluids from the sacrifices drained away.

"He is lying!" screamed Rautanor, looking around in terror.

The other Maiar gathered around him, feeding on his fear.

"Can you not see he is lying?" Rautanor wailed. "Deceiving him was Artíre's idea! He is the one who said it! When I return to Morgoth, I will tell him..."

"You will tell him what, Rautanor?" asked Artíre. "Are you not Sauron's servant? Working for Morgoth would leave you vying for power among the other servant Maiar. At least under Sauron, you are closer to a position of power. Sauron has always had your first loyalty, and everyone here knows it!"

Narcawë grinned approvingly at the Watcher, who was now standing beside him while the other Maiar gathered around the hapless Rautanor.

"How easily you change sides, Artíre!" Rautanor roared. "If the one side seems likely to win, you join it, but if the other one does, you go there instead. You care not who wins in the end! Do you know why I hate you, Watcher? I hate you because you have no concept of loyalty! For you, there is no cause, there is only a show for you to observe - and I despise you for it! Curse you! Curse you to the Void forever!"

With that, the other Maiar drew even closer to Rautanor and waited for Narcawë to speak.

"Seize him!" the Defiant One ordered. "Let us take portions of his essence for ourselves, stripping layer after layer off him until there is nothing left!"

The Maiar complied at once, chanting the spells that tore strip after strip of being from Rautanor, who screamed and struggled all the way through the process until only a whisper of a memory remained. They stood aside to let it drift sadly away.

"Where is Artíre?" asked Narcawë, who had taken a greater portion of Rautanor than any of the others.

The Watcher was nowhere to be seen.