Act One: Prologue
THE THREAT OF THE WEST
Another day. Another human sacrifice.
The cries of men as they were dragged to the altar to be burnt alive were sweet music to Aldarion's ears as he walked up the golden steps of the palace. His eyes travelled to the huge domed temple beside the spired building. A massive golden statue stood in front of it, his hammer raised as a warning to those going any further. He was Morgoth, greatest of the Valar, now the primary deity of the land. Legend said that he had rebelled against the tyrannical creator Eru Iluvatar and sought to ensure freedom for the Elves and Men. Morgoth, also known as Melkor the Great, was defeated in the end, making the beings of Middle Earth once again subservient of the Valar.
Aldarion's gaze returned to the front as he entered the palace, ignoring the shivers of the guards standing by. He knew that his presence made people uneasy, even afraid. But fear was to him was simply another of the thousand emotions which stayed behind the locked doors in the intricate maze that was his mind.
Fear makes you weak. Fear gets you killed.
He passed through the chambers with golden roofs and silver walls, with grand chandeliers and windows with coloured panes. Every inch of this building spoke of royalty, wealth and power.
And why would it not? This was no place with thatched barns where brigands drank in the rink and rats rolled on the floor with dogs. No, this was Númenor, the greatest kingdom of mortals, the domain of the Kings among Men, loyal subjects of Melkor and Sauron.
Two guards pushed open a large, wooden door as he entered the massive throne room. Golden statues looked down upon him like the legends of old, each statue depicting a Numenorean king of the past, standing at either side of the scarlet red carpet that led to the iron throne, elevated above all else. Spikes of cruel steel and cold iron protruded from the top and sides, and a cloth of velvet was laid upon the seat. The two armed guards with either side stood like silent sentinels, ready to jump into action at a moment's notice.
Aldarion kneeled as he reached the foot of the throne, his eyes meeting with the golden ones of his master. The man who sat upon the throne was tall even by Numenorean standards, adorned in an exotic blend of black and gold. A crown of iron set with a bright pearl sat atop a head with slick, dark hair and a face that exhibited both power and fear. Feline eyes with a pupil which stood vertical with the golden schlera surveyed him with a dispassionate coldness.
"What news of the South, my faithful aide?"
Rich. Perhaps that was the only word fit to describe the voice that came out from between those thin, harsh lips. Rich, with an almost undetectable undertone of seduction, that would make anyone who heard it feel at peace.
"Good ones, my lord Sauron." Aldarion's voice was harsh, almost like the scrapping of sandpaper. "The tribes of the Haradrim are uniting under one banner. Many have accepted the terms you demanded of them, and their proximity to the realm of Gondor provides an advantage."
Was that amusement that flickered over Sauron's face? Aldarion had no idea.
"And what of those who refused to join?"
Sauron's lips curled into a cruel smile as Aldarion silently produced a bloodstained sack and opened it. He looked inside to see the heads of several Haradrim chieftains, their features contorted into expressions of fear and agony.
"I assure you my lord, rebel Haradrim tribes are the least of your worries." Aldarion's face was impassive, his mind replaying the scenes of the public display of his skills on the chieftains. Fear was a powerful motivator, it will push the Southrons to serve the Dark Lord, if only to avoid facing the Sword of Sauron again.
"Good, good."
Sauron had expected no differently. Men were weak; they desired power and feared death above all else. They had no qualms against betraying their own kin, for profit or for survival. They would be fools for not serving him. He had seen this when he served Melkor; his honeyed lies and cunning mind achieving success more than once.
"Rise, Aldarion. Guards, leave us." Sauron motioned with a flick of his hand, and the guards bowed and left the room. Aldarion rose, and Sauron descended from his dark throne.
"There is something that bothers you. Tell me of it."
It was said that nothing escaped the Eye of Sauron, and there was truth in those words. "My lord, we hold the East and the South. Númenor will follow you into battle. Why do we not strike now, before the West can unite?"
"Patience, my loyal friend." Sauron's voice was a little scolding, like a father to a disobedient child. Aladrion held back a sharp retort. We are not friends.
"It is the fate of Middle Earth to fall to my feet, to accept the second darkness. I cannot be stopped by a mindless rabble of dwarves, elves or men," Sauron mused, circling the Man in a way similar to the stalking of a prey by a predator. He let his golden eyes fall on the silver lined murals and tapestries that hung from the walls, depicting events from a bygone Age. The fall of Nargothrond and Gondolin. The sacking of Doriath. The short but tragic life of Túrin Turambar. "The Elven realms of old are gone, their heroes nothing more than mere myth. It is not them who concern me, but what lies hidden in their lands."
"My lord?"
Sauron paused. His eyes assessed the Man, wondering if he was up to it. Evidently the assessment was positive, for his lips were curled into a cold smile. "My master was humiliated after his defeat in the disgraceful War of Wrath."
Like every Númenorean, Aldarion had heard stories of the Elder Days and Morgoth's defeat by the Host of the West. Legend said that the land of Beleriand was destroyed in their wake, and they captured Morgoth in his stronghold of Angband. Morgoth had sued for pardon, but they bound him in mystical chains and reforged his iron crown into a collar for his neck. In the end, the Valar had beheaded him and thrust his spirit through the Doors of Night into the Timeless Void, and so ended the mightiest of the beings of Arda.
"Indeed, it is all true," Sauron replied when Aldarion told him what he knew. "The master of fates in Arda, and his spirit lingers on the wastes of the Void. It's ironic, actually." Pity flickered on his fair face. "He governed the fates of others, but not his own.
He awaits the call of his return, Aldarion. And we are to answer. He awaits that day." Sauron's voice was almost down to a whisper, like the hiss of a basilisk. "The day when the courage of Men fails, when they forsake their friends and break all bonds of fellowship. That day draws near. He is waiting. He is ready."
Some unknown feeling stirred inside Aldarion. For the first time, he felt, the presence of Sauron was more menacing, more sinister than his own. And he knew what Sauron was asking him to do.
"You want me to open the Doors of Night."
The Dark Lord nodded, placing his hand on the Man's shoulder. "First, you will have to find it. The Valar hid its location after they exiled him. My spies have reported that it no longer lies to the east of Aman. They hid it somewhere in Middle Earth, in the West." Sauron tightened his grip on the other's shoulder. "Are you capable enough to find it?"
"I believe I am."
Sauron perceived his hesitation. "You will not be alone. There are four who will be at your side. The demon, the human, the elves. They will aid you in your task. And my forces in Middle Earth will be under the command of the five of you. Find the Doors, Aldarion, and Melkor himself will reward you. Fail, however," his eyes bore into Aldarion's. "And death will be the least of your worries. Do not fail me."
Aldarion looked at him, his eyes set with resolution with a cold emotionless face.
"Have I ever?"
Well, it got slightly longer than what I had intended 😅. Personally I was hoping to edit it again but it's late here and I'm tired 😅. Hope you enjoyed reading it, and it wasn't bad enough to drive you all away! And comment, I live off those! If you have any suggestions or notice any mistakes, please feel free to point out. No OCs here, but you'll all see them in the upcoming chapters!
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