[CaptainofDespair]

Angoroth could feel the arrogance of the Elves bearing down on him. It weighed heavy and hot upon his shoulders, like a far-flung molten boulder spat from the mouth of Mount Doom itself. He could not help but think a most pleasurable thought; forcing the Elves into submission, and dissolving their haughty ways, much as the sea washes away the sand. He stood before the Lord of the City, the once proud Celebrimbor, with Ulrung held slightly back and to the right. The other counselors and various representatives still surrounded their Lord, both protecting him physically, and symbolically. They stood with him, at least on the surface. That much Angoroth surmised from their forlorn eyes.

“And so it is complete, Celebrimbor,” mused the dark one. “Your father and grandfather fell to a similar fate. Now, it is time for you to fulfill the Oath, and take your place alongside them.” The elf-lord’s face shot up, as his eyes pierced into Angoroth’s, looking for some deeply embedded seed of knowledge, a tome that might reveal where this man had gotten such information. But, the dark one felt this, and countered. “Delve into your mind, O’ Pathetic Lord. Then, you will know who I am. I am no servant of a false Dark Lord in Mordor, but of the True Master, Melkor.” A shockwave of devastating awe spread through the assembled party. Could it be that another Maiar, much like Sauron, had survived the War of Wrath? It had to be so. There was no other explanation that seemed to fit.

Continuing, the Maiar stacked more upon his prior threats. “It is time for business, Celebrimbor. You have been silent, but now is your place. Hand over the Rings and you own person, and I will consider showing some form of mercy to your sniveling people. Do not, and you will all die, in a most cruel and bitter manner.” The elf-lord looked sullen, and did not speak immediately, but hesitated a moment or two. Finally, he spread his lips, and spoke. “I…I…cannot.” The answer did not amuse Angoroth. Beneath the barbute helm that covered his face, a restless anger boiled over into an ecstasy of hatred. Remaining calm and diplomatic, however, he reiterated his prior statement. Celebrimbor knew something, but would not answer in fullness. But, at this time, he seemed to reacquire some lost sense of his dignity. “I…will not relinquish what is the right of the Elves to keep!” In some twisted way, this showing of pride amused the Maiar. “You speak of rights, when you have none. You are but tenants upon this earth. You have no rights, and nor can you deny what is sought by those above your station.”

He was beginning to feel a bit of irritation. Dealings with the Elves were destined to be drawn out affairs, with their arrogant auras about them, and always ended in irritation. Thinking that their status with the Valar and Illuvatar gave them some sort of special say over all matters, they had sunken into an entrenched, defensive manner of arrogant rebuttal. Gathering himself once more, Angoroth spoke, “If that is your choice, then so be it. You have sealed the fates of every last denizen of this City. But, perhaps your faithful companions might turn your faulty thinking into a reasonable conclusion. Until that point, you may see this as the preface to a quick and bloody war.”

Motioning for a silent Ulrung to follow, they descended from the palace under heavy guard to the main gate. As they came upon it, Maegisil, who continued to follow the escort, silently motioned for them to depart from the city. But, as they prepared to exit, Angoroth had a stroke of cruel amusement. Leaning towards the counselor, he reached under his cloak into a pouch strapped to his belt, and extended his clenched fist. “I can see in your eyes, that you have a wife. You worry for her safety, and wish for her deep love. Give this ring to her, my own signet. I will undoubtedly reclaim it anyhow, so you might as well make peace with her, elf.” A dumbstruck Maegisil could only feel the ring being pressed into his open palm, and his fingers clasping around it, as he watched the dark ones pass through the gate.

Once out of sight of the city’s walls, their horses already tiring from the long day, Ulrung turned to Angoroth and spoke, with new sense of fear instilled in him. “Milord, what is to happen next? I would think it best not to allow them to recover from our visit.” The Servant of Morgoth, already weary from the chatter of Eregion, could only reply unenthusiastically. “We will…wait, Ulrung. Let the fear of my coming bring despair upon them. But, soon we will lay siege to them.” Ulrung nodded. His lord was a bit above his station, and he knew well of Angoroth’s penchant for slaying captains whom he did not like. “Also, Captain, recall all the orc war parties. It will soon be time to give them my orders.”