Barad-Dur, March 7 3019

Lord we understand…..

…Gondor must be destroyed, Rohan broken and unable to help. All enemies of the Dark Tower must be defeated.

Lord we obey….

…attack from the East, attack from the south.  Kill the Dunedain in their white tower and destroy it. Trap the Rohirrim between Orc and axe. Kill the elves, drive the dwarves and northmen from their lands.

Lord we execute….

...your plans as required.  

Dead Unlucky

Dromond Serpent’s Fang, near the mouth of the river Anduin, March 8 3019

What’s that, Scythax? Not still going on about ill-luck and fate? Look, just because you couldn’t beat Gondor in your day doesn’t mean there’s a curse or anything. Of course I’ve heard of your Thorongil. But that was 40 years ago. And no-one’s heard of him since have they?

He’ll be long dead by now, or at least in his dotage. What’s he going to do, eh? Suddenly reappear? Will he attack us with his walking sticks? Or come back from the dead? No, I know, he’ll bring a whole army of ghosts down on us!

Just get on with it, you stupid old man. Do as you’re told, if you don’t want to end up dead sooner rather than later. Steer us to the shore and we’ll attack.

No Light in the Darkness    

Barad-Dur  March 9 3019

He dares. He dares! A Dunedain. Isildur’s spawn. The insolence. The Insolence!  And he has that sword, and he is strong.

Yet, I had his father killed, and his. Why should he be stronger than them? And let us see how he fares in dark places. Yes, let fumes, smoke, cover the lands. Cover the Lands! All will be dark, nothing shall shine or glimmer.

Know this, my troops, know this, my leaders. You fight under cover. Under my cover, my darkness: It will not break. It shall grasp the enemy in their despair, and it shall hold them there. Cover the sun, cover the stars, darkness is coming, my darkness. It shall not break while you fight. It shall not break now, ever.

Order and Discipline

The Road North in Anorien, near Druedain Forest. March 10 3019

That’s right, Pacorus, bring the palisades here. Anchor those spikes in the ground, but don’t put the caltrops down yet. I don’t want to spike myself, save it for the horses.  Get those spikes in line, Ascher, the rest of you wait. Order and discipline, that’s what we need.

Vologases, what did your men see to the south? Two enemy riders? What happened to them? I want them for questioning, I want to know that no-one else got past here before we blocked this road. If we fail then we’ll have failed the Great Leader. Lets show him we’re to be trusted. Order and discipline, that’s what I always say

What’s that Artabanus? Your men shot at two fat spies in the woods? I don’t care if you think you hit one, save your arrows for the enemy. We know what we are waiting for. Tall men with fair hair on great horses, not hairy shadows. Order and discipline, that’s what we’re going to need, and that’s what I’ll have.

Good, all the barricades are ready now. Arsaces, your men take the left flank, Orodes, yours on the right. I’ll keep the centre with the reserve. We’re on schedule, ordered and disciplined, and no riders are going to get past us without a fight.

Stay in the Woods

Crossing the Anduin, West of Mirkwood  March 11 3019

There! Even in my Lord’s darkness it is still a little luminous. And the smell! Elves and their trees. Well, these trees will shine a little less brightly after this day. I will breathe on and blacken their outer forest.

And then we will retreat. Let them call it a victory. The ‘first battle for Lorien’ or something. Let the elves think we care about their stories, their trivial battles. While they stay in their woods and sing songs we take over the world. They think they are important but the main battles will be south in Gondor. Let them stay in their woods. We distract them, confine them here, and slip past their watch an army headed for Rohan. We know the elves will not move. And now the Rohirrim will not move either.

So let them call it a victory. And there will be more, for we will attack again. The elves may drive us off, but each time there will be fewer of them. Meanwhile, we smash the Dunedain and their city, kill that last Numenorian brigand, regain my Master’s ring.

And then, not yet, but not far off, we will come to Lothlorien for the last time.

Famous Last Words

Osgiliath  March 12 3019

So, the Rohirrim cannot come. We have the river and the crossings. The Corsairs occupy the southern lands, my brother keeps the elves in their pitiful forest. My Lord’s darkness covers all.

The Dunedain retreat to their city and hope to defend it. Fools! It will be their tomb. Now they are in, they cannot escape, and we will smash down on it like a hammer. Already, their Steward despairs. They have nothing to withstand us. They fight with swords against war machines, mountain trolls, and mumakil. And where I go they will crawl and cry. They cannot hinder me.

For are they not merely living men?

Can't See the Wood for the Trees

The Wold of Rohan, March 12, 3019

‘Look, you heard what the Great Eye’s said: Kill the whiteskins, burn their city, scatter their horses, do not let them ride south - direct from the Mouth himself. So get going, you maggots, he wants us there tonight.

‘Lagbash, get your boys up together, keep ‘em running. What’s that, Snikrit? No, we don’t need your sneaking scouts. Let them off and we’ll never see them again. Back to Lugburz in a flash, they’d be.’

‘Right boys, straight through those trees, then a bit south and that’s the way to the Whiteskins city.’

‘No I don’t see nuffing moving there. They’re just trees, they don’t bite, even you, Gabdizh. Here, tell you what, hack some branches off, we’ll use ‘em to burn the city. Come on, last one through’s a Tark……..’

Hungry, Hungry, Hungry

The Forest of Mirkwood, March 13-15 3019

Hungry, hungry hungry. Nothing to eat, just darkness, here in the south. Flesh, he promised. Flesh, in the north. Hard to walk, hungry, hungry, hungry. Dense barked trees, dark the ground. So hungry, hungry, hungry.

Trees, trees, only trees, here in the central forest. Hungry, hungry, hungry. I hear my sisters mutter in time as we scuttle endlessly in the branches and bracken.

Its brighter here in the north. Every lens can see more. The forest is more open, all my legs can move freely. Faster, faster we move, my sisters and I, some on the ground, some weaving in the high branches. They cannot stop us! We are their ancient fears come to life. Our great-mother stole their light and they were afraid. We kill, we eat: we won’t be hungry, hungry, hungry.

Tinder and Spark

Near the Carrock, 18 March 3019

Krimp krump, tinder and spark, out of the mountains in the dark

Goblins march and Goblins run, dark the smoke that covers the sun

String the bow and sharp the blade, heavy the iron that goblins made

Slash their throats before the dawn, steal their meat and burn their corn

Scrit sckrat, split and spin, Goblins laugh and Goblins sing

Crinch crunch, munch the bones, save the eyes to feed the crows

Bundle and Burn, slash and maim, Beorn’s land is all aflame……

Ssssssh!

at the edge of the smoke!

something’s there?

what’s that shadow?

that looks like a bear…..

One Old White Dwarf

Erebor March 19 3019

Take the gates, Take the gates! We are too many for them. Their front rank is broken. We kill as they fly. Do not let them escape. Their doors, their gates to the mountain, gape open. These men are weak, and the dwarves are outflanked. They march back but we will get there first. To the gates, the gates. Look, the Dale King is down. Take the gates, the Gates! Before the dwarves close them.

Wait, reinforcements come from the Mountain. No, not reinforcements, one dwarf, alone, comes out to meet us. Just one stands in our way. Just one old dwarf. His mail gleams and his cloak is rich, but he is alone, white haired, with a worn axe. By himself, what does he think he can do against all of us? One old, white, dwarf.  We laugh, we charge.  There is nothing to stop us taking these gates. 

“You said you would not interfere – you would leave things to Olorin!”

“My Lady, I think a fresh sea wind does not constitute very much in the way of interference. The prevailing breeze on the coast of Ennor is westerly anyway. I may have strengthened it a little… Just enough for Olorin and the others to see what they were doing.”

“And? - the battles, the Paths of the Dead, the Ents, Eowyn and the Nazgul?”

“Not my doing, my love. Not really Olorin’s work either. Just the difference between the best laid plans and their going astray. Just the Men, Dwarves, Elves, Ents and others, finding their own courage, acting in their own right. Just enough to upset the greatest of plans, just enough to give our sister’s creations time to do their part.”