The Ghost of the Shore by Independence1776

The Ghost of the Shore

Read The Ghost of the Shore

"Did he agree?”

Alatar looked up from perusing the map spread out on the table. He raised an eyebrow at Pallando. “He will be here in two days.”

Pallando laughed. “He has no idea who we are, does he?”

“I doubt it,” Alatar said. People tended not to tell news to creatures they were frightened of. 

Alatar looked back at the map and the marker pebbles on it. The Enemy’s positions had not changed, according to the latest report from his spymaster. She hadn’t sounded happy about it; something wasn’t right to her. There was always the chance that a spy had been suborned and was passing on bad information, but there was no easy way for them to check. The Enemy had long practice in deception.

They needed someone who slip through enemy lines unnoticed, someone skilled with magic and music— and who knew how to defend themself when need occurred. They needed the Ghost of the Shore.

 

*****

 

Maglor rolled his shoulders in careless ease. He’d been shown to a chamber overlooking a garden, given time and materials to clean up, as well as lamb-and-vegetable samosas and pomegranate wine for refreshment. Afterward, his guards had reappeared to lead the way through the crowded palace corridors. He received a few second glances, but he didn’t sense any hostility, mere curiosity. There were rarely Elves here, he’d been told, so he was a novelty.

A novelty he could handle. Captivity he could also handle… but it had been made quite clear that he was not a captive. He’d even tested it on the journey here, slipping away one night and hiding in a nearby tree. In the morning, the guards had simply packed up the camp and rode onwards, expressing disappointment he’d left but making no effort to track him down. They had been genuinely surprised when he strolled into the next evening’s camp.

His guards had also been tight-lipped about their employers. All he knew was that they were curious about him and might need his help.

Maglor snorted. He was of very little use to anyone. He’d left the northwest corner of Middle-earth long ago and made his way along the shore, very rarely heading inland. He’d met and lived briefly with Kwendi and Men, but never stayed in one place for longer than a dozen years. He’d gained plenty of nicknames, but the one that seemed to travel with him was “Ghost of the Shore.” Maglor had only himself to blame for that one, walking along the water at dusk and dawn while singing songs in languages no one for hundreds of thousands of miles knew.

They stopped in front of a set of carved wooden doors. Geometric patterns framed panels of elephants, parrots, peacocks, monkeys, tigers, twelve-tined deer, and more. A guard knocked and Maglor was quickly welcomed into the room, though the guards remained outside. One of the walls had a map done in mosaic; the rest were hung with tapestries of various animals. Scrolls were placed in holders along the lower halves of three of the walls; the fourth was dominated by a fireplace. In the middle of the room was a large table and the two people who had asked him to join them.

They were not human, despite their outward appearances as older men of two local ethnicities. Maglor put a hand on his sword hilt, hoping he wouldn’t need to fight his way out with either sword or song. One person against two Maiar and the numerous guards between here and the exit was not good odds.

“Please be welcome, Makalaurë,” the Maia in sea-blue salwar kurta said in Quenya. “I am Pallando and this is Alatar.”

Alatar bowed slightly to him and gestured at the table. “We need your assistance against Sauron. He has risen again and we fear that our information is no longer good.”

“Are there not other people you can ask for help?” He rather doubted a Kinslayer and Oathtaker was the Maiar’s first choice.

“The local Elves suggested we recruit you as you have actual experience fighting him and his ilk in an Age past. Alkil sends her regards.”

“Ah.” He released his grip on his sword and moved to the table. Alkil, one of the local Kinn-lai, had run into him on the coast two years ago and had not managed to convince him to leave off traveling to spend time with her people. Now she had a compelling reason why he needed to stop haunting the shore. He studied the map. “What precisely do you need me to do?”