Of Swords and Fire (Percy Jackson/LOTR)

Chapter 11: Dancin' with Ringwraiths

Aragorn frowned, deep within thought. The Palantir sat cold and clear on his table. He'd seen something in it before. The dark voice, the harsh croaks of orcs. He could still hear their voices. Why did the Palantir tell him that? An orc outpost being ravaged by 1 man? It might have been an Elven-warrior. Perhaps one of the great ones? He thought inside his head. That wouldn't make sense, since even the greatest do not travel alone.

But then how to explain the sharp pecks on the commander of the outpost? And the bird prints on the back? There were splinters of wood along side the wound. That doesn't make sense either. A bird killing a orc commander? Gwahir could manage. But the pecks are too small. Splinters on the wound? That would indicate that the orc would've been stabbed to death with a wooden weapon. But that isn't right either. There were a few orcs that had no obvious injuries done to them – the only explanation- drowned. The ground was wet and soggy, yet no rain had been brought to the region. The only water source nearby was a kilometre away. The person in question would've needed to carry 100 buckets of water, while fending off orcs from all directions and then pouring it on the ground to make it damp. Even then it sounded ridiculous. The person would've been Radagast the Brown, but Radagast would never commit such acts. He was all about peace. Then who? He thought. Who could've done this?

_______Percy______

He switched his sword, flicking the last of the foul monster blood off his blade. The owl cleaned it's beak onto the wooden beams, which glistened with fresh black blood. All around were decapitated monsters. "Looks like we're all done here?"" Percy said to the owl. The owl hooted in reply. "I agree, we should probably get moving." Percy shook his backpack, shaking the hay and dirt off it. They ran out of the barn. The sun was moving up, which indicated that he spent the whole night there. The situation at the doors were looking pretty desperate to Percy already at that point, but Percy had no idea how they could've survived overnight.

Have faith, Percy. A voice chided inside of his head. It was vaguely female. Magical fortresses aren't easily broken in. He raised his eyebrow. "Of course. Who might this be inside my head this time?" A gruff voice sounded his head. Go left. You'll find the command camp there. "2 gods are inside my head?" He said out loud. No. We are the Valar. We are the gods of this realm. The first voice spoke inside his head. We will say no more. Stay left and assassinate the leader.

The voice stood silent from then on. My head isn't a communication hub between gods, you know. You can't just pop in. He said Inside his head, but they were already gone. I should charge minutely rates for the time the next god that pops in here. He sighed. "Let's go left, shall we?" He told the owl.

He was right. About 500 metres in, there was a overhanging cliff edge. Beyond the cliff, there was a huge command tent, with a odd symbol scrawled untidily onto it. In the distance, hazy trenches and pointy sticks outlined a rough circle. About 300 of the creatures hung around the circle. No doubt there were more inside. Screams of pain came from inside the tent, but nothing else. "Let's go raid a tent." He said to himself.

________Girme______

He sat, bind with locks of crude metal to the cold chair. He struggled to hold back tears as his dear friend Orein was seared with yet another black symbol. "Tell me where the entrance is, or he gets another one." Rumbled the dark figure, standing in the centre of the room. He was cladded in a strange black garment. "Don't tell him Girme!" Orein shouted. Another symbol seared onto his back. "Tell ME, or the next one goes into his eye." The figure hissed. Girme trembled. Orein stayed silent, breathing raggedly. "Grashnuk. Put it into his eye." A hissing sound crackled, combined with dwarven screaming, and the cackle of laughter from the orc.