#orc bank unforsaken

[ceescedasticity]

Unforsaken, 13a

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

(Note: I'm not sure whether there'll be another chapter split before the actual fight. If not, then a Warden interlude will go before this chapter. But I'm not sure yet.)

*****

The sustainable pace of oxen and the eyesight of elves being what they respectively are, they can see the surface exterior of the Crucible for two days before actually getting there.

—"They" being the elves in the group. Peredhel eyesight isn't so sharp; dwarven eyesight isn't calibrated for long distances; orc eyesight is at least better than peredhel except trying to look at Sunlit things doesn't work so well and there's not enough light at night.

—Though if Alphsîr and Alphlîn want a better look they can just turn into swans.

In all their palantír-viewing they never tried to take a look at the Crucible from ground level, only bird's-eye. It's… interesting.

It might look like buildings?

Risyind has seen a drawing of vaguely similar buildings — big featureless stone things. According to the Stonefoot dwarf architect who shared it, it's how Ironfist dwarves build when the ground is no good for delving. Gimli is dubious.

Maglor says it looks like Númenórean colony buildings from that one period where they'd just figured out concrete-based construction and hadn't yet decided it was ugly and probably beneath them. Celeborn is the only other person to have seen any of these buildings (most of those not destroyed by the locals succumbed to time); he is forced to agree with Maglor.

Glorfindel says that while the vibes and color are different it looks a little bit like the products of what he was told was a brief Vanyarin architectural fad. He didn't ask.

As they get even closer, the orcs besides Sharlinnu agree that they can also now feel the Crucible ahead of them.

The elves don't start feeling it for a little while after that. It's actually very impressive suppression of bad vibes. Not really a surprise, though — if it could be felt from far away someone would have found it before.

They set up camp near a spring several hours away at oxcart speed. It's significantly less than that for a running elf, and they're going to want the clean water.

****

It seems likely the wall (crust?) of the Crucible is not of uniform thickness, and logically they want to attack a thin point if possible. Investigating this requires getting a lot more up close and personal with the creepy Crucible rock than anyone is happy with — bare hands, ear-to-the-ground close.

The bad vibes are intense.

It's a long, tense afternoon and evening of climbing up and down rock walls, pressing ears to the creepy, creepy ground, and trying not to be too disturbed by withered plants, unscavenged animal skeletons, and other signs that the natural world is not welcome here.

Dyn gets so anxious she has to go back to the carts.

Celeborn starts to develop a rash where he's been touching the rocks. No one else is getting it. His only guess is that everyone who's more sensitive than him (Glorfindel, Maglor, both pairs of twins) also has stronger innate defenses, and everyone more vulnerable than him (everyone else) is more desensitized.

Legolas watches the sky so intensely he almost walks off a small cliff.

After about an hour in close proximity, Sharlinnu starts having trouble hearing anyone speak over the noise. She has to go out beyond the outermost circumference before it starts coming back.

Turgon doesn't realize he's started compulsively scratching his arms until he's drawn blood. He discreetly bandages them, but then scratches the bandages off.

Maglor is singing bits and pieces of things half-under his breath, in a distressed way. (Exactly what the differences between the distressed way and the pensive way or the nervous way or the creative way are no one can quite spell out, but no one argues with the description.)

Asfaloth, apparently, disapproves of Glorfindel venturing into this without him, and follows along as well as he's able at ground level. He starts neighing insistently if Glorfindel is out of his sight for too long. This is itself not a relaxing noise.

Khitwê asks Elladan how bad an idea it would be to take some of the chalk they brought and graffiti the exterior of the Crucible of the Souls with insults towards the Dark Lord(s). Elladan isn't sure.

They eventually decide their best bet is probably the circular plateau in the center of the shape. This is not ideal in terms of how far they're going to have to hand-carry the clay-crates, but they can do it.

Gimli cautions that he's not sure they're going to break through the crust in one round of detonations, even with Wizard's Clay rather than blasting powder. He's not sure they won't, either, but it's not a thin crust. It partly depends on how deep they can bore.

Dyn asks if there's any risk of boring too deep and breaking into the actual Crucible. Gimli thinks it's very unlikely.

The next two days are full of boring holes, carrying crates, and laying fuses. It is labor-intensive and very boring except for how they are crawling all over the bad vibe rock to do it, and are also now covered in bad-vibe-rock shards and gravel. Gimli, the orcs, and the Hirnedhrim are the only ones who don't need to sluice off at least twice a day. (No one else is getting a rash, but it feels bad enough they might as well be.)

[elronds-library]

The Unforsaken [WIP]

by Scedasticity (@ceescedasticity)

Part 2 of elves, once

Let's go destroy an Orc Bank.

Mature, No Archive Warnings

Words: 35,421

[ladysternchen]

End of Year Fic Recs

Thanks @polutrope for tagging me 😁!

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023)

Recommend up to 5 single fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies)

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read. (oooohhhh damn. I'm gonna SO fail at this, because I actually read so little myself- I tend to re-read the same stories over and over and over again, but I'll see what I can do)

Multi-Chapter

'Tis the Season (To Be Tea-la-la-lally) by polutropos (Teen And Up, WIP, AU) I'm not one for modern AUs normally, not at all, and I honestly didn't want to read it at the start, but then I did (here on Tumblr) and got sucked in LOL. It's just great, and I love the Holiday Spirit! (I won't tag you here again, as you're tagged in the entire post anyway 😄 brilliant story)

Rising as if Weightless by StarSpray (Gen) The story of Elwing suddenly becoming the big sister/foster mom of her older brothers. This is so tender and beautiful and has so much character growth and so many bitter-sweet reunions, and above all so much depth.

A Pair of Stars by Magicfeather205 (Teen And Up) Pre-historic Elves, and the birth of future kings. That was honestly the most interesting story I read this year, with wonderful and very accurate world-building and a beautiful story (and thank you, author, I now can't get the 'Elwë and Olwë were indeed the first set of twin-boys in that family' out of my head where it fights a raging battle with my own headcanon) Also, I want this fic to be read by every single midwife (and, more importantly, other obstetrician). THAT is how you treat a birthing mom. That's how you handle unforeseen events. I loved this so so so much. It would have felt perfectly natural to have Trixie and Nurse Crane walk in there- sorry about that fandom-mixup)

As Flowers From the Sky by Beleriand Death Trip (E) Fingolfin/Elu Thingol... this is honestly a ship I would never ever have thought of myself, or seen a way in which this could work, but this story DOES work within canon, and beautifully so. It has it all, from very interesting world-building ideas to mild- (and VERY funny) horror-elements, and from foreshadowing and tensions to being wonderfully wholesome. You'll feel better after reading this, I promise!

The Unforsaken by @ceescedasticity (M, WIP) Last but definitely not least. I'll again link the first part of the series in the before-2023-part, and probably say more about it there. But yeah, absolutely a must-read! Go! Go, destroy the Orc-bank! (But don't blow yourselves up!)

One-Shots

Bloodied by ohboromir (Gen) Just a little First-Battle-story. I love to see Elu and Beleg and Mablung together so so so much (who would have thought, ey?).

Unstoppable Winds by LadyBrooke (Teen And Up) The destruction of Númenor as viewed by a few of their ancestors. I really loved this because I have never actually seen a story about the Fall of Númenor written from that POV and it did (or rather does) inspire me quite a lot in my own WIP. (I have to apologise here for not having more, I read so many great one-shots here on Tumblr that I just failed to save in some way. I may add to this list if I find the time to scroll through my timeline and see which of those I reblogged)

Before 2023

elves, once (M) by @ceescedasticity The part one of the series The Unforsaken belongs to as well. And for me the most recommendable story there is (though I would guess most who see this post will know the story already). The name says it all, really, as it is the story of all those canon-characters who ended up as Orcs. This is the sort of fic I really enjoy because it actually gives an answer to a question canon rises. The Orc-bank has since so much passed into my own headcanon that I sometimes forget that it is not actually canon (which leads to very awkward situations sometimes at our monthly discussing-Tolkien-gatherings, I tell you that)

across so wide a sea (Gen, WIP) by Adwen Unfinished, but one of the most hilarious stories I've ever read. I hope so much that author continues writing it one day, but even if they don't, it's a great laugh to read what is written, and ah, the possibilities!

The Carriage held but just Ourselves (Teen and Up) by StarSpray The story of how Melian and her descendants deal with death when they finally come to face it. I don't know when I last cried so much when reading a fic. It's not just that it's so so so sad (because yeah, go kill us all even in the one chapter that should be somewhat 'happy' 😭), but also incredibly beautiful and written perfectly in-character. It's looking into those women's minds. One of my bed-time-stories. (hmpf. All the others are multi-chapters form this year. ah well...)

My own

Yet Were Its Making Good, For This (not rated, but mature:ish; WIP) Ah, my problematic WIP. I wanted that story so so so so so badly written that I forced it, and it cost me MANY nerves. Mablung of Doriath/Elu Thingol. (How is it that nobody ever wrote that ship before?????????????) Works within canon if one squints one's eyes a bit. I'm currently working on the Epilogue ind Valinor, which might, MIGHT, for once give one of my stories a truly happy ending.

Into Oblivion (M) The smut-part of Yet Were Its Making Good, For This. Elwë/Mablung/Beleg. (Well, what do you all think they got up to during the journey?) Doesn't interfere with later canon.

Why, It Asks (Gen) It's a very short read, but one that is super dear to me for some reason. Elmo's thoughts as he stands by and watches his brother's grave being dug.

Moving On-series (Gen) Is this cheating, now? As it's really three one-shots? If it is, pick the last one to read. I'm just so fond of what my imagination spat out there world-building-wise LOL. It's the story of the time Elwë was missing to his and Melian's coronation, as mostly told from Elmo's POV.

Eyes In The Dark (Gen) I just had to put it here, as it's quite sweet to read, but given the hardly-mentioned-in-canon-characters it's hardly read by anyone. Give it a try, though. I bet you like it. Little Denethor is frightened by eyes in the dark, and runs for Lenwë for help. And Lenwë is being just about the best Dad ever.

And now we come to the bit I always dread. I suck at tagging people, because I always forget who enjoys such things and who doesn't, and because everyone's probably been already tagged. So let's do this differently, then- all writers who read this and want to share their recs, please do! (Cheating again, I know)

[ceescedasticity]

So once all the orc-souls are freed, are the elven lands going to suddenly have several thousand re-embodied elves returning to them?

The Halls of Mandos will suddenly have thousands of former orc-souls; reembodiment will be spread out and not immediate because people heal differently and all of them have a lot of healing to do.

[ceescedasticity]

Realized yesterday that:

Saruman definitely knew/realized a maia had to be playing the Warden role

Saruman tried to contact this maia to make a side deal

The contact method involved torturing and killing an orc

It worked, Prism got his message, and she might have been interested, except—

Saruman confidently addressed his message to a particular servant of Oromë who went missing way back who he assumed became the Warden

Prism was offended

Like she wouldn't expect people to know it was her, it was hidden, but assuming it must be someone else is just not forgiveable

[ceescedasticity]

This is an Unforsaken sneak peak and not an update because (a) it's not done yet and (b) I'm planning on intercutting it with the fight, but here's the start of (probably most of?) the history of the Warden of the Crucible:

There was once a Maia whose name might translate, approximately, as Prism — it described the splitting and scattering of light. She was very bright, and very cold, and very sharp.

Prism delighted above all else in the disassembling and reassembling of things. Had she been in the following of Yavanna, perhaps she could have been well-employed in the cycle of decay and reclamation. Had she been in the following of Ulmo, perhaps she would have guided the waves that wear away at coasts. Had she been in the following of Oromë, perhaps she would in time have taught efficient butchery of quarry and the use of every scrap.

But she was very bright and very cold and spoke not of her dissatisfaction, and no one ever considered she might belong elsewhere than in Varda's train.

When the Valar withdrew to the west after the destruction of the Lamps, Prism did not follow; she cloaked her brightness and roamed away into the darkness of Middle-earth.

Wherever she went, she would take things apart and put them together in new shapes. Animals, plants, small landforms, lesser spirits — even some of Melkor's weakest servants were remade at her hands. A handful of her remakings or their descendants linger still, but only a handful: she seldom designed with long-term survival in mind.

In time she came upon the elves.

Prism bore no ill will or resentment towards the Children of Iluvatar. She was intrigued by them and pleased that they existed. She treated them like she treated every other interesting thing she came upon: she took them apart to see what she might make out of the pieces.

Prism was no Dark Hunter stalking the forests, but a bright lure and an inescapable trap. It was then that Melkor took notice of her.

It cannot be said that Melkor directly corrupted Prism. Prism came into Arda balanced on the blade of a knife and no one saw that she was there. Even without guidance, she might yet have stepped off it and learned benevolence. But in isolation and restlessness she stepped in the other direction, into heartlessness and cruelty, before ever she met Melkor face to face.

Melkor was intrigued by the effects of Prism's undirected meddling. Melkor relished the opportunity to win one of Varda's to his side. Melkor recognized Prism was powerful and capable of finesse in a way many of his umaiar were not.

Prism appreciated that Melkor saw her.

Melkor did not corrupt Prism. Melkor focused Prism. Melkor directed Prism.

Melkor was already engaged in capturing elves as the Dark Hunter, tormenting and breaking and killing them. He likely had the idea of orcs already.

Prism worked out all the details and made it happen.

The chains on the first orc souls were held by Prism directly. As their numbers swelled, though, they became too many for even an umaia of Prism's strength to pay attention to all at once. The Crucible of Souls was planned: A prison for the unhoused souls to keep them from wandering or fading without any specific attention needed, and an anchor point for the chains of the living orcs.

Prism agreed to be sealed inside the Crucible. She was promised an endless supply of newly enslaved souls to dissect and distort at her leisure.

All the Ages of Melkor's imprisonment Prism worked diligently at cultivating the orcs. Sauron fed the Crucible the fëar of thralls prevented from hearing the Call within Angband. Prism drew in vulnerable unhoused fëar from all over the northern half of Middle-earth.

Strictly speaking Prism didn't need to do anything to break them. The Crucible makes them suffer. The chains force them to obey. Prism only needed to wield the chains as directed by Melkor, or Sauron as proxy.

But Prism always did like to fiddle with things.

During the First Age of the Sun, Prism grew discontented. While her work was still fulfilling, there were things afoot elsewhere that she longed to see more closely. She did not understand why Fëanáro was so special, and wished to examine him herself. Some of the principles of her work were applied in crafting vampires and werewolves and dragons, but she never saw them in person. The younger Children of Iluvatar came to be, and she could not touch them.

More than that, though, she was fascinated by what she learned of Melian and of Lúthien. She felt that Melian had definitively outdone her in the field of fully understanding and interfering with the Children, and Prism could not even study her results properly. It was vexing.

She was briefly hopeful on receiving the spirit of a son of Fëanáro which, she was informed, was lesser but strove to be like his father in every way. But Fëanáro's lesser son was too lesser for his fëa to give any insight into what made Fëanáro so interesting. He was at least good for some laughs, and the Oath was of some interest.

Of more interest was the fëa of an elf of unremarkable origins which nevertheless sought control and domination with singular focus and a curiously warped view of its fellow elves. Prism handled this orc with a delicate touch, modifying it as little as possible, to observe what it would do. (Though in an effort to leave it as it was she did somewhat calcify it as it was.)

The arrival of the Host of the West was a shock. Prism had truly believed the Valar would never emerge from Valinor again, and she greatly feared their retribution. She withdrew her attention and hunkered down in the Crucible, so deeply that she barely felt Melkor's expulsion from the world.

(The Valar did not know it was Prism they were searching for, when they searched for the prison of orc souls. It would not have helped if they did: Her nature was thoroughly masked by the fires of the Crucible.)

But in parallel with Sauron, Prism soon returned to her old ways.

—Nearly, at least. It turned out that with respect to the Shadow upon Middle-earth, Melkor expelled from Arda was not the same as Melkor imprisoned. Even with Prism and Sauron free and uninjured, the Shadow was less, and the chains on the orcs were weaker. Not so weak that any of them could escape, of course; not so weak that Prism or Sauron could not twist any of them to their will at any time.

But if neither of them was paying attention— There was a… loss of reverence. Orcs left alone no longer sought out orders but pursued their own interests.

Often those interests served the Shadow regardless and the orcs obeyed orders when they got them, so it didn't much impact operations. The orcs' masters adapted, and got used to it.

Prism was delighted when one of the unhoused fëar she captured was the mother of Melian's offspring's grandchildren, and that moreover those grandchildren might still be in Middle-earth. Prism investigated the soul thoroughly for any traces left behind by the hybrids, little though there was to be found.

Sauron also sought the hybrids with great interest for a time, but it was only one of his many projects, and in the end he became thoroughly distracted with the elven-smiths of Eregion and then with Númenor. Prism, frustrated, was left to keep scrutinizing the same soul over and over again whenever it passed through the Crucible.

Sauron was defeated at the end of the Second Age and lost access to everything he had poured into his Ring. It took centuries for him to recover. For that time, Prism was for all practical purposes left alone.

She contemplated leaving the Crucible.

She found she had poured too much of herself into it to do so without injury.

She decided she hadn't wanted to anyway.

She focused on tormenting the fëar within her reach and ignored how the absence of Sauron and his infrastructure left her nearly blind. Besides, Sauron was recovering.

[Edit: This breaks off at the START of the Third Age!]

[ceescedasticity]

Unforsaken, 13b

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

Shorter update this time, but you will see I did finally make one of the decisions I needed to make. (I think we probably are going to get to the battle in this chapter… must find & clean up the Warden's interlude.)

(Oh, also — if anyone actually knows something about dynamite and anything I'm writing sounds ridiculous, now's the time to mention it?)

Zuste proposes joining all the fuses together into one master fuse going halfway back to base camp, but Dyn says that basically guarantees the fuse going out before it sets anything off. Besides, if they may need a second round of blasting they should be conserving fuse.

They end up gathering the fuses into five bundles to be lit, and they aren't short by any means but after you light them you do want to withdraw quickly.

The fuse-lighters are Elladan, Elrohir, Khitwê, Risyind, and Legolas. After lighting the fuses they run back to rendezvous with everyone else, still within the radius of the Crucible's… arms? though away from the center plateau. They don't end up using the hand signals; ósanwë is enough.

Even with ears plugged, the sound is something else.

There is a rain of dust, gravel, and little fragments.

Estimated sticks of Wizard's Clay left behind to threaten the peace of Middle-earth (counting the 25 left in Emyn Arnen): 2500-ish (plus 25)

Before the explosion has finished echoing or all the debris has fallen, Sharlinnu staggers, hands going to her ears.

"The sound changed," she says as soon as someone else has their ears unplugged. "Not the blast, the noise sound. It changed. "

Legolas quickly scrambles up the nearest outcropping to get a view of the site. "We uncovered more of the same rock," he calls down. "I don't see an opening or… anything."

"No, yes, it's not open," Sharlinnu says. "It's not here. Not out. But it noticed. It reacted."

"We hear it, too," Alphsîr says.

"Only just," Alphlîn adds. "It's not talking to us."

No one likes the idea that the now-not-so-hypothetical Warden might have friends, but—

"It's talking to us," Turgon says. "To any orc, I think. Not words, I'm not hearing anything, but — it's a summons, I think."

Whiterot nods. "Not strong enough to be a compulsion but expectations are clear."

A general orc-summons isn't a very nice prospect either, but fortunately it should take any other orcs a week or more to arrive even at a forced march, and that's if they don't resist. It's still unsettling.

They tie damp cloth across their faces before venturing into the blast crater they've created.

Boring and carrying and laying fuses is more tense this round, and it wasn't relaxed before.

They're not even half done when one of the Geese descends, and lands on the edge of the crater. Alphsîr and Alphlîn approach immediately. (They are bad at drilling and not at all good at carrying heavy things like clay-crates or water buckets. Probably they should be back supervising the oxen until the next blast gets set off, but they are way too anxious to stay that far from the action.)

After a very brief conversation, Alphsîr flies over to Glorfindel's team and sheds his feathers. "She has a message from Caraxitári," he says, eyes wide. "The Shadow's call has drawn wyrms out of the mountains, and the winged ones will be here in perhaps two days."

[ceescedasticity]

Next question, should the Warden background be in a chapter by itself or intercut with the fight to draw attention away from my hatred of writing fight scenes?

[ceescedasticity]

damn you, physical existence

why must things have appearances.

Okay. So. Take this shape. Refine it so it's actually perfectly symmetrical. —Maybe give it more arms, idk, so not exactly this shape.

The whole thing is a couple miles in diameter. It's not uniform in height. I'm not sure what the average height is, but there's not a huge variation within the snowflake footprint. The edges are steep, though probably not right-angle.

It was originally pure black or pure white smooth stone, but cosmetically it's taken some weathering. There are superficial cracks, pitting, dirt, a few really stubborn plants.

Okay — approaching it from the side it'll look like a giant and really weird complex of windowless, featureless buildings.

[ceescedasticity]

Unforsaken, 13c

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

Actually maybe we won't get to the battle in this chapter. It'll be kind of short, but I think it's a good place to stop?

They're not half done even with the smaller target area when one of the Geese descends, and lands on the edge of the crater. Alphsîr and Alphlîn approach immediately. (They are bad at drilling and not at all good at carrying heavy things like clay-crates or water buckets. Probably they should be back supervising the oxen until the next blast gets set off, but they are way too anxious to stay that far from the action.)

After a very brief conversation, Alphsîr flies over to Glorfindel's team and sheds his feathers. "She has a message from Caraxitári," he says, eyes wide. "The Shadow's call has drawn wyrms out of the mountains, and the winged ones will be here in perhaps two days."

…So not an orc-summons specifically, then.

The Geese do at least confirm they are small, non-fire-breathing dragons.

By "small" they mean up to about thirteen yards long nose to tail — less than twice as long as a Goose and considerably smaller than most Eagles.

A lot of that is snake-y length. Not counting the wings, the dragons aren't any wider than an ox or a boar.

Have hunted wild boar before: Most of them, actually, under various circumstances over the millennia.

Have not hunted wild boar because they were kids, and then they were swans: Alphsîr and Alphlîn.

Has not hunted wild boar because it just didn't sound like a good time: Risyind.

Have not hunted wild boar because it was impressed upon them by their older siblings that trying to hunt wild boar is a good way todie: Zena, Zuste, and Dyn.

"It was a good idea to avoid them altogether," Zena said. "Some of us got ambushed, a time or two. Swine just don't tolerate us. —Or didn't, I think it's a little better now."

Anyway.

The Geese say that they can't kill the dragons, but they can force them to land — dragons are relatively easy to unbalance in midair. Sadly the dragons have spread out so they can't all be mobbed at once, so it's not working as well to delay them as hoped.

"If they only come one or two at a time, on the ground, in between the arms of this thing where there's not a lot of space for them to take off…" Elladan says.

Elladan and Elrohir confer briefly.

"You get ready to fight the Warden," Elrohir tells Glorfindel and Celeborn. "We'll worry about the dragons."

Risyind yells from across the crater: "If we don't want to be here 'til winter we'd better all be worrying about the clay!"

While everyone agrees she has a point, that work still slows down. It takes several runs back to base camp to fetch all the dragon-grade polearms and arbalests. Elladan and Elrohir have to consult with the Geese on distances and locations.

Also consult with their prospective fellow dragon-fighters.

Legolas and Gimli: Both very nervous, but certainly not willing to falter. They will make their respective families and peoples proud! —And probably give their parents heartburn, but never mind that.

Khitwê: Not going to say he's ready for this by any means, but secretly a little glad he'll at least have something useful to do.

Risyind: Less ready for this than Khitwê, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

Zuste and Zena: Concerned.

Dyn: Just planning to hide in the back. Elrohir says she could go lie low back with the wagons? But the possibility of escaping while everyone else dies is much scarier.

Whiterot: Is volunteering to join the anti-dragon team, actually. She's not sure the Warden will care much about her crossbow, but dragons care plenty if you aim right.

—No, orcs aren't generally set to fight dragons, but Whiterot was in Angband during the Siege when dragon development was ongoing, and there were — some hiccups.

Khitwê asks if this means there were rogue proto-dragons rampaging through Angband.

Whiterot wouldn't say 'rampaging'. If they'd been rampaging the dragon crafting umaiar might have gotten off their asses and cleaned up their own mess. Proto-dragons gone rogue that had to be killed before they ate something they weren't supposed to, yes.

…Or ate too many things they weren't supposed to, at least.

Consultations and weapons placement finished, they leave Legolas, Khitwê, and Risyind on sky watch and bring Gimli, the Hirnedhrim, and Whiterot back to the Clay-laying.

Elrohir surveys the progress made in their absence.

"…We're not going to get this done before the dragons arrive, are we."

"We might if we work through the night," Glorfindel says. "Is that preferable?"

(Another weapon placement that's been settled: Since Elladan and Elrohir will not be fighting the Warden, Glamdring will be with Glorfindel.)

"Since it sounds like there could be a lot of dragons if the Warden keeps summoning them… sooner the better, I think."

They work through the night with grim determination, but when the drilling part is done, they pause. They take turns laying fuses, and everyone else— Everyone takes it in turn to wash off the bad vibes rock dust. Everyone eats something. Everyone but the orcs takes a few swallows of miruvor. The half-elves and Gimli try to get a few hours of sleep. Maglor tunes his harp. Sharlinnu has brought a bucket back and is planning to use it as a drum.

Glorfindel gets out the Anor-stone and, first, tells Arwen everything they've observed about the site, the feel of the place, what their plans are, what the Geese have said about the dragons, what Alphsîr and Alphlîn think about the Warden — everything.

Then Celeborn talks to Arwen, and Zuste, and Legolas and Gimli talk to Aragorn, and Arwen and Elladan and Elrohir talk for a long time.

("If anything— Don't go against your inclinations. But if you're still unsure, and things go badly — go meet our parents, and give them my love?")

Then it's time to split up: Team Oh Great Dragons to the point near the edge of the Crucible where they hope to set up a dragon killbox, and Team Oh Great Umaia to the sheltered point nearest the central plateau before they set off the clay.

Glorfindel clears his throat as they start to disperse. "This, er, probably goes without saying under the circumstances, and isn't applicable to everyone, but for— Just — if you're killed—"

He's interrupted in chorus: "Follow the Call to Mandos."

[ceescedasticity]

Everything is terrible and I'm super stressed, have a preview:

Celeborn's arrows are hitting the Warden. Some of them are sticking. The Warden just doesn't seem to care much.

Okay fine. That's not doing enough physical damage? He'll deal more physical damage.

He's shot arrows with message tubes plenty of times, and fire arrows even more. An arrow with a lit stick of Wizard's Clay is basically just combining those.

His first shot gets a reaction from the Warden, a shriek of "What the //fuck\\, Celeborn!" from Glorfindel, and unfortunately a whoop of approval from Celegorm.

Oh, well. Damaging the Warden is probably worth getting Celegorm's approval.

[ceescedasticity]

Unforsaken, 12e

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

Major takeaways from this round of practice:

Yes, it's even more impressive in stone.

And even louder when not in a hole in the ground.

The ear protection they've come up with is probably good enough, at least for everyone besides the swan-twins.

Legolas somehow ends up trying to explain the history of explosives to the swan-twins. He has no idea what he's talking about.

A stick of Wizard's Clay will not explode if you drop it from thirty feet up. They aren't supposed to, but it was still nerve-wracking.

Nobody likes being under a rain of little rock fragments but there isn't really anything to be done about that.

They might want to leave the oxen farther away next time.

Estimated sticks of Wizard's Clay left behind to threaten the peace of Middle-earth (counting the 25 left in Emyn Arnen): 5495

Following Alphlîn and Alphsîr's continuing success in practice, Glorfindel is ready to sketch out a very rough battle strategy (which hopefully won't be needed since they still aren't 100% certain there's a Warden).

Alphlîn and Alphsîr will be attacking from the air, with power. (If they get grounded, they should change shape and run out of the way rather than try to take off where they are.)

Glorfindel, with Asfaloth, will be fighting with sword and power.

Maglor and Celeborn will also be ahorse. Maglor will be Singing and using the battle-harp. Celeborn has a bow of Lórien and a sword from Eregion.

Turgon and Celegorm will be on foot. (It would be possible to convince horses to bear them, probably, but the horses would be nervous and distracted and they aren't used to it anymore.) (Celegorm kind of wishes he had a warg for this.) Their weapons are dwarf-forged steel, and their own wills.

Whiterot has a crossbow and doesn't plan to get close. Sharlinnu isn't sure how well she'll be able to fight with the noise-generating Warden right there. She wants to, but she also doesn't want to get in the way — more discussion needed there.

That leaves the children Third-Age-born contingent, and here there is some disagreement.

Zuste, Zena, and Dyn readily agree that they are not up for demigod-fighting, either in capability or interest.

Khitwê and Risyind make it clear they are ready and willing to fight! Khitwê in particular would be happy to avenge his family's suffering on the Warden. (Risyind doesn't think it would make her feel any better than the Warden going down without her direct involvement.) But this isn't the kind of fight they're trained for, and even in areas they are trained for they are perfectly adequate, not outstanding. If Glorfindel says it's better for them to hang back they won't argue.

Legolas and Gimli — you don't want to make Legolas and Gimli think you're slighting their abilities, but they're not going to insist on pushing into a fight above their pay grade. They won't argue that this (hypothetical) fight isn't above their pay grade.

…So really the only disagreement is about Elladan and Elrohir.

This fight is above their pay grade, yes, but it's above all of their pay grades. It might have been within Glorfindel's right after he was sent back to Middle-earth, or Maglor's at the height of his power and skill before being ground down by time and grief for over six thousand years, and Turgon or Celegorm's before being ground down by being orcs for over six thousand years. It's not now.

Celeborn has over two Ages of experience more than his grandsons, and they have over two Ages of exhaustion less than him.

The best Glorfindel can extract from them is an agreement to hang back and stick to bows as much as possible.

******

Maglor finally gets up the nerve to approach Celegorm the day before they are expecting to arrive at the site of the Crucible.

"I know what I need to tell you," Celegorm says, before Maglor can ask. "It's just… Just don't interrupt, all right?"

What being an orc is, according to Celegorm:

Being bound by fetters on your soul.

Everything in you is warped to some purpose outside you.

Certainty that you are damned and there is nothing you can do about it.

Certainty that you can do as you're meant to willingly or you will be forced, and it will hurt.

Telling yourself it doesn't matter. Just do what you want — anything that brings a moment of relief —because nothing matters.

Hating yourself for everything you've done and every mistake you made to get into this situation.

Hating your fellow condemned for everything they do that's the same as you and everything they do differently.

Hating everyone not condemned for not being condemned.

Hating and hating and hating because it's warmer than despair alone.

It's all the worst days of living bound by the Oath of Fëanor, back to back, forever.

"I've said before it wasn't as different as it should have been," Celegorm concludes at last. "And that's true. But what I don't like to say is sometimes it wasn't different at all. Well, except elven hröar aren't as miserable, so being an orc is more physically painful unless something's gone really wrong, but— I know this has been easier on me because I've lived this already. At least this time I didn't do it to myself."

Maglor has to take some time to think about this.

It's coming together for him, though. He knows — he thinks he knows what he needs to say, now.

******

On a lighter note, Maglor has an idea about trying to get a better idea of Sharlinnu's noise — what if the orcs do some singing?

—This takes a while to explain as people are varying levels of informed about orcs' tone-deafness and well-established tradition of singing anyway. (Also the Hirnedhrim and the swan-twins have never heard of tone-deafness before.)

The orcs, meanwhile, are trying to pick a song.

Whiterot: "And then there were none", maybe?

[A ‘and then there were none’ backwards-counting song of elf-princes, some verses inspired by real events]

Celegorm: And then there was one!

Turgon: Two. And no, I don't think so.

Celegorm: I wish I was back in Goblin-town?

Turgon: If we must—

Sharlinnu: What about the Prince of Cats song?

[A prince of cats got his ass kicked by a girl and a dog, definitely not inspired by real events, honest, but also definitely not to be sung in Mordor]

Turgon: Definitely that one.

(Other noteworthy subjects of orc songs:

Fear Us We are doing a task [which isn’t very interesting and this at least livens it up] We are going to kill you and destroy everything you love and have fun doing it We’ve been marching a long time and it’s annoying The Sun is a bitch I Fear Nothing Except The Sea Which Is Fucking Terrifying My warg is the best warg, she’s eaten lots of babies Behold my gruesome trophies My body is the most fucked up and uncomfortable but I make it work There’s Something In These Caves (It’s A Dragon And Planning To Eat Us) These Orders Indicate Our Senior Leadership Has Shit For Brains Today Is A Terrible Day To Die But I Guess That’s What We’re Doing )

The orcs end up singing most of the day.

It does not sound very good, but it's nice to see them enthusiastic.

[ceescedasticity]

Unforsaken, 12c

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

After they stop for the night Glorfindel asks if Alphsîr and Alphlîn want to take the night off from training. They do not. They want to hit things.

Since none of them know how strong a blow from the swan-twins' power would be, Glorfindel isn't comfortable having them aim at anyone, and it's hard to strike so abstractly at nothing. He rigs up a target of a polearm stuck into the ground with a bucket on top; goal is to knock the bucket off the polearm.

(Inert objects with no real spirit of their own are not ideal targets for this kind of attack, but Glorfindel is guessing with their level of strength they should be able to manage it.)

There are a few false starts, but when Alphsîr manages to loose an actual strike the polearm gets ripped out of the ground and knocked flat in one blow, dirt flying. The polearm is also now slightly bent.

That's supposed to be a dragon-grade polearm.

Glorfindel sets up the same target again, but says they can't get another polearm for a target if this one gets too badly damaged.

(They still haven't seen any sign of dragons but wrecking all their dragon-grade polearms would surely summon some.)

(Celeborn does not, in fact, drink the rest of Legolas's Mirkwood moonshine. Celeborn stares blankly up at the stars missing Galadriel until Elladan and Elrohir bring the palantír over and make him talk to Arwen.)

*****

Turgon's reprieve is over the next day.

There is no reprieve for Celeborn, as he still insists on riding beside the wagon listening to all of it, even though Turgon tells him again he doesn't need to.

Did she talk about them?

"Not if she could avoid it I'm sure. She would have wanted to protect you."

But did she talk about them in the past, about back before she died?

"Not to me. We only ever discussed the kin we had in common, and very seldom the past. Mostly we avoided talking about our pasts at all. All orcs-who-know, not just me and L—Nimloth."

She didn't forget them, did she?

"No, no, everyone avoided— She alluded to you, sometimes — to what Celegorm's servants did to you."

What did she think about working with sons of Fëanor?

"She hated it but there weren't enough of us that we could afford to do anything about our grudges. —Except she did kick Reckless in the crotch hard enough to actually rupture something once, the first time they met when she remembered all the way."

Why do some orcs remember? How?

"There are a lot of different ways it happens. Any orc can get reminded, it's also — not falling apart, after you get reminded. I don't know why some people can handle it and some can't, and I don't know what things pushed Nimloth into remembering. It wasn't every lifetime. —That's not a bad thing. It's still awful, if you don't remember, but it's not — you don't fully understand how awful it is. Or feel as bad about how awful you are."

But if you remember can't you… be less awful?

"Well, when the Shadow was light we could just go to ground, but other orcs could do that too… You need to understand that when the Shadow is — was strong then an orc is an orc, and all of us did bad things. If we were lucky we could avoid doing bad things directly to people important to us, but all of us hurt innocents and served the Shadow's purpose. And if you were unlucky— If there was any doubt the Dark Lord could bend any of us to his will if he took the trouble, then after— There wasn't any doubt. We were weapons or we were dead. And it's hard to stay dead."

What's it like in the Crucible of Souls?

"…Hot. Close. Confusing. Bad. I'm not sure how to explain it better, just… it's very bad. It hurts. Everything always hurts, but the Crucible hurts worse."

Did she want us to come help her?

"Absolutely not, no. There's— Glorfindel recognized me once some centuries ago. He was a great warrior when I was alive and I could tell he'd gotten better, but I never once wanted him to come after me. He couldn't have done anything to help me, not truly. It would only have put both of us in danger. It might have put him in danger from me, if the Dark Lord noticed. He made an orc-who-knows torture his own son to death once, out of spite. None of us wanted our living family coming near us. She wanted you to stay away."

What happened to her, why isn't she alive now?

"I don't know what exactly happened to her, or to most of the other orcs-who-know. There were some very great battles, and landslides and other disasters — it's more surprising that we're alive than that they're dead."

…

Turgon sighs, and looks over at Celeborn for the first time in a while. "This is the thing I was hoping you wouldn't have to know. And I really don't know very much."

"Yes…?" Alphsîr prompts.

"She believed Saruman and went to Isengard. She's probably the same Leafblight that Zuste mentioned."

Celeborn goes gray.

Alphlîn asks, "What's Isengard?"

Oh, hell.

Alphlîn asks, "Are you all right, Uncle Celeborn?"

Celeborn's eyes are open, but he is starting to list sideways.

*****

Glorfindel and Elladan come take charge of Celeborn.

Elrohir herds the swan-twins up to Zena's wagon and asks her to give them a brief introduction to what was going on in Isengard. He figures they have a complete lack of relevant context that might make Zena's version appropriate.

After overhearing enough to understand what's happened, Legolas goes back and volunteers the rest of the Mirkwood moonshine. Glorfindel says to hold it in reserve but he's starting with miruvor.

[ceescedasticity]

Did the trapped souls in the Crucible sense the explosion?

Hadn't thought about that, but I think probably some of them? It was potentially sense-able, but not impossible to miss for those who are particularly worn down or hiding or whatnot.

[ceescedasticity]

The orc bank's surface appearance:

Option 1: As currently described, a raised symmetric branching pattern.

--Pros: Already described. Shaped like an ice crystal and the Warden is cold. They could pick an arm to destroy, meaning a smaller radius. Means the interior of the Crucible is filled with narrow dead ends.

--Cons: Maybe too pretty, too orderly for a Warden who likes destroying things. What does it mean that it's elevated precisely in the footprint of the Crucible? Does that mean that the top of the interior is above ground level?

Option 2: Instead of an ice crystal pattern, more like shattered glass.

--Pros: Sounds better as a shape.

--Cons: Should it be raised or lowered? Does lowered make sense? Also harder to imagine the interior shaped like that. Have to retcon description.

Option 3: Raised rock dome like a blister.

--Pros: Probably the easiest to… rationalize? the shape of. It makes sense it would seem like that. Nicely unpleasant-sounding.

--Cons: Would have to redo/retcon description. Very generic, not Warden-specific.

Hmmm.