Lords and Lordship by WendWriter

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Chapter 7

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In the throne room of Morgoth, Maiar, balrogs, wraiths, high-ranking Orcs and other evil creatures gathered for the trial of Narcawë. No clarion call went out to alert them - they were drawn to the spectacle of an Elf-like being calling himself 'Artíre the Watcher,' and the abject Man he held prisoner 'Narcawë the Defiant.' Rumours were spreading like wildfire of the triumph of Artíre over twenty rebel Maiar by the skill of his sorcery. One tale even told of the Watcher's having moulded a body for Narcawë out of the dust of the ground, fastening him to it and changing its shape at will for his own entertainment.

Beings who had never entered the presence of Morgoth suddenly found reasons to flock to his throne room, filling the vast chamber to capacity. This was the scene that greeted Sauron when he came, summoned to give evidence at the trial. Taking his place at his lord's left side, he waited for the prisoner and his accuser to enter the room, his ears filling with the chatter of the assembly.

Artíre entered before his prisoner. The Watcher remained embodied in Elven-form, and wore dark robes befitting the occasion. He took his place before Morgoth, at the head of the crowd. A sussuration of whispers broke out around him as he stood calmly, waiting for the proceedings to commence. The Watcher nodded respectfully to Sauron, who glowered in return. Where was Rautanor? Sauron, dressed in Elven-form, raised an eyebrow in silent query, but Artíre simply dipped his head as he looked straight at the Deceiver. The message was clear: wait and see.

The prisoner entered next, a shambling old Man, his belly sagging like an empty old sack under his tattered robes, his hair long fallen out. His eyes were dark - one big black dot in each reddened eyeball. He was blind, and groped around as he was dragged along, wheezing and gasping his complaints, which he was unable to enunciate. Thick heavy chains hung from shackles on his wrists and ankles, though these were for show - there was no hope of escape. There was no hope at all for him, and he knew it. Tears leaked pitifully as he made his way forward, limping as he stumbled along.

Focusing on him, Sauron reached out with his thoughts to discover if this really was Narcawë. It was! Sauron baulked at the revelation, not because he had thought the Watcher to be lying, but because of what the Defiant One was now reduced to. He had never seen a Maia brought so low. There was something different about the Defiant One, though. Something undefined, but a difference, nonetheless. The Deceiver began to probe, trying to ascertain what this difference was, and as he did so he encountered other consciousnesses doing the same thing. It was confusing for him, trying to distinguish between the other beings, Narcawë, and... something else. Something familiar, like the scent of blood or a snatch of melody from a well-known song...

Morgoth rose from his throne. "Silence!" he roared.

The room went quiet, and all eyes turned to the lord of the realm.

"I am informed that one of my Maiar hath turned against me, and in defiance of my wishes did set himself up as lord of Rhûn, there to hold a realm of his own. He is accused by Sauron and Rautanor of taking the temple of Moko, which had been established as a centre of worship for me, and altering it so that he was worshipped there instead. Moreover, he hath defied a summons to return here to Angband to make account of his actions to me," stated Morgoth, his tone severe. The Dark Lord lifted his mighty right arm and pointed at the prisoner. "Artíre sayeth thou art Narcawë the Defiant. What wilt thou say in thy defence?"

The prisoner looked up at the sound of the voice. He was moving his head and upper body in response to the probings of the other beings in his mind. He croaked a response, waving his hands at his throat.

Morgoth cast a spell. "Speak!" he commanded.

"I am Narcawë," the prisoner replied. "See what Artíre hath done to me! He hath tortured me! He hath abused me in ways too numerous to tell, from the temple of Moko to this place, my lord! Give me justice, I pray thee! Justice!"

"Silence!" shouted Morgoth. "Artíre, is this true?"

"My lord Morgoth," said Artíre, "it is true that I bound him, and that I beat him. I blinded him and rendered him dumb to prevent his escape, for he is wily and apt to deceit. I deemed him too dangerous to do otherwise."

Whispers went the length and breadth of the room as the assembly deliberated. Many of the rumours accepted as fact were being destroyed, and the crowd was anxious to get to the truth of the matter. Sauron spoke up, "My lord Morgoth, give me leave to speak, I pray."

"Thou mayest," said Morgoth.

"Artíre," said Sauron, his tone deliberate and deadly, "Where is Rautanor, whom I sent to aid thee?"

All eyes turned to the Watcher. Everyone in Angband knew about the feud between Sauron and Artíre, and the beings in the room were debating among themselves whether this was another salvo heralding a new outbreak of hostilities between the two Maiar.

"Rautanor hath been destroyed by Narcawë and his followers," announced the Watcher, looking Sauron in the eye.

Sauron baulked for the second time that day. The horror of the Watcher's announcement struck him with the force of a boulder cast from a trebuchet. A wave of rage swept over him for a moment, and he could not speak. While he could not be said to have loved Rautanor, the Plotter was a good lieutenant, and had served him loyally and well.

"How did this happen?" he asked.

"Ask Narcawë - he knoweth!" Artíre replied, his gaze unwavering.

"That is a lie!" the Defiant One objected.

"How is it that thou and thy followers did slay Rautanor, Narcawë?" asked Morgoth.

"'Twas Artíre!" cried Narcawë in desperation. "He did it! Release me and I will show ye how it was! O, 'twas cruel! Most cruel!"

"Artíre, how did Rautanor meet his doom?" asked Morgoth, ignoring the Defiant One, who shouted and wailed his rage and fear to the room.

"In terror and torment," replied the Watcher. "They surrounded him, my lord, and cast spells that tore parts of his essence away in strips, and used them to strengthen themselves. This they did till only a whisper of memory remained, which they permitted to depart, deeming Rautanor to be a threat no more. I made my escape as swiftly as I could, and lay hid till I could cast a spell on Narcawë and render him harmless. Then I brought him back to thee as thou commanded me."

Sauron roared, raising his hand to his mouth. He had done this to Maiar and other beings who opposed him, sometimes with the aid of Rautanor. Doing this had altered them, darkening their beings and tainting them more than their other sins. The remnants of the others clung to them like the stink of smoke on one who escaped from a burning house. It was like wearing armour that had been in a fire - singed and stinking, but wearable nonetheless. They were strengthened, but the memories of their victims lingered in the recesses of their minds, popping up at odd moments when triggered by a sight, sound, feeling or smell.

If Narcawë was strengthened thus, by what means had Artíre subdued him? This was strength indeed! It was small wonder that he sensed something familiar in the Defiant One - it was a memory of Rautanor! There was a portion of the Plotter mingled with the essence of Narcawë. Knowing this made him feel as though he had inadvertently swallowed a goblet of Rautanor's blood, thinking it was wine. He felt sick inside. Anger rose within him, a rage that threatened to turn the trial into a violent farce. Seizing control of himself, Sauron bit back the words of fury he wanted to spit, and stood glaring furiously at the prisoner.

"Dost thou deny this, Narcawë?" asked Morgoth, anger twisting his voice into a snarl.

"B-but, my l-lord," wailed Narcawë, "Artíre did spy on me, and caused a riot in the temple. He possessed a Man, and killed seventeen. He bound me to the body of a priest and turned me into a horse, and rode upon me!"

"Narcawë, dost thou plead guilty, then?" asked Morgoth, his voice low and dangerous.

Sauron was becoming increasingly irritated by the whining of the Defiant One, who wailed, complained and tried to blame Artíre for what he had done, but would not answer the questions put to him. "I tell thee, Narcawë, if thou wilt not answer plainly the charges put to thee, thou wilt be condemned!" he declared.

Narcawë went quiet.

"Now tell us, Narcawë, is the tale of Rautanor's doom true or false?" asked Morgoth.

"I do not understand why I am brought forth to give testimony about my doings in the temple of Moko, and Artíre is not," replied the Defiant One.

"I sent Artíre to bring thee before me for judgement, and this he hath done," replied Morgoth. "The Watcher hath shown himself loyal and obedient to me, and thou hast not even answered one question put to thee. Artíre hath answered every question truthfully, and thou hast tried to hide behind thine excuses and complaints, but they will not avail thee, nor will any charge thou layest against my servant Artíre. Thou standest accused of bringing about the doom of Rautanor and of treason against me. Wilt thou answer yea or nay to these charges?"

"Why wilt thou not hearken to my complaints?" asked Narcawë, "or must I alone answer for the events in Rhûn?"

"Thou alone art on trial," replied Morgoth.

Narcawë fell silent. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Artíre came with Rautanor to the temple of Moko, and the twain contended with each other before me. My followers surrounded them both. Rautanor called down curses on Artíre, and we fell upon the Plotter and devoured his essence. Artíre hid from us, and we searched for him. By base treachery he rose up and bound me to the body of this priest, then he brought me here."

"Is this true, Artíre?" asked Morgoth.

"For the most part, though lies are mingled with his testimony as the essence of Rautanor is mingled with Narcawë's," declared the Watcher. "I went as thou commanded me to the temple of Moko, and Rautanor came also. We could not agree upon a strategem for dealing with Narcawë, and when we entered the temple, he feared the worst and turned on me. Narcawë's followers surrounded us both, and Rautanor believed it was a trap set by me. He cursed me, and Narcawë's followers assumed this was because I intended to join them. They destroyed Rautanor, and I hid, knowing they would do the same to me if I did not. When they saw me not in the temple, they went to seek me, and I cast the binding spell on Narcawë while he was distracted with ordering the search for me."

"Thou didst hide, and not render aid to Rautanor?" cried Sauron, his fury breaking free as his self-restraint wavered.

"Rautanor turned on me!" Artíre shouted. "We were surrounded, and when Rautanor turned on me, I saw there was no hope, so I hid."

Sauron went quiet as the truth hit home. His feud with Artíre had cost him his lieutenant as well as his standing with Morgoth. The loss of Rautanor was another charge to lay at the Watcher's door since accepting responsibility for it was too much for Sauron to bear. As quickly as the truth smashed into his mind like a hammer onto a nail, he rebuffed it with an excuse that Artíre was to blame because Rautanor would not have been sent with him if the Watcher could have been trusted to carry out the mission by himself. The fact that it was Sauron's idea to send Rautanor along was not one the Deceiver was willing to accept.

Morgoth rose again from his throne to pronounce judgement. "Narcawë, called the Defiant One, thou hast been condemned by thine own mouth and by the testimony of Artíre the Watcher. Thou hast admitted to the destruction of Rautanor, and to rebellion against my lawful rule of Rhûn by setting up a realm for thyself there with followers of thine own in the temple of Moko. This judgement I render: thou wilt be served as thou and thy followers served Rautanor, thine essence stripped from thee wisp by wisp until thou art no more than a memory. Sauron and I will do this, giving shares unto those we deem worthy. Take him away until I call for him again!"

The guards on either side of the Defiant One seized him and dragged the protesting Maia away, still bound to the body of the priest. The crowd in the room began to disperse until Morgoth, Sauron, Artíre and Morgoth's personal servants remained.

"Go," said Morgoth to Sauron and Artíre, "I give ye leave to depart."

The Watcher went, shedding his Elven-form, invisible to all but the Maiar and to Morgoth, who were aware of him.

Sauron watched him depart, then went to his chambers, mulling over his loss and the plans he could make to avenge himself. Taking part in the execution of Narcawë would be vengeance enough, but what of the Watcher? One thing was certain - he would have to be careful in his dealings with Artíre, for though he desired no lordship of any realm, he was a lord nonetheless, and not to be underestimated.

Sauron the Deceiver considered the matter for a while, then prepared to carry out the sentence on Narcawë, who was defiant to the last.

 

The End.