Current Situation: Logan and Molly, transformed by the Medallion and transported to Middle Earth are fighting for their lives. Separated by the tides of war they each face new challenges. Molly is forced to draw upon the skills and memories she gained from Logan and the power of the masculine spirit of a Maiar Knight who now shares her body as she leads the survivors of Nevrast in a desperate struggle against the forces of Angband. Logan having helped get the refugees of Lindornëa and Ilcanalta into Tumladen now face a new challenge, Elven politics. Guided by the female Maiar spirit Melchiresa, he must help convince King Turukáno that the Elves that defied him and stayed in Nevrast need to be saved.

Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

The Orc scout paused to sniff the air, after a minute he looked back at his partner and nodded. The unspoken communication told the second Orc that everything was fine. The pair moved forward slowly, cautious, yet knowing that they had to keep pace with the rest of the skirmish line or their sergeant would have them whipped. Then out of the dark a pair of arrows darted. The accuracy was eerily perfect as both Orcs were shot through the throat and collapsed in separate pools of blood. From the shadows formed by the trees Tanna Greenleaf and her partner, another slender female Elven archer, silently moved.

They paused at by the Orc scouts bodies long enough to make sure they were dead before continuing their deadly hunt. All up and down this section of the skirmish line the best Elven scouts were at work. Tanna felt a sense of urgency because she knew that not far behind her the main Elfish Warband was on the move. They, the scouts, were the key to the whole operation. Lord Sornohen had tasked them with clearing a hole in the Orc line without alerting the host.

Again and again that night Tanna proved that she was the best archer in Nevrast. Silently she killed with enough skill to cause her partner to wonder if she ever missed. Her slender bow was made of a white wood and recurved in a way most had never seen. Many an Elf had tried to draw the bow and failed. Yet when Tanna used it, it appeared to be effortless. She had once explained that her father had made it for her before he’d left Valinor, before she’d been born, and that she and the bow were friends.

By midnight the hole Lord Sornohen needed was done and Tanna moved further into the wood. The great bog was on her right and the eastern host of Angband was on her left. The night was quiet and the low overcast of clouds prevented starlight from reaching through the trees. Then Tanna paused cocking her head to one side. Through the trees, carried upon the night breeze, she heard a faint melody. The music was instantly mesmerizing and without looking at her companion she followed it. The two of them stumbled into a clearing and for a moment Tanna couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing.

There in the middle of the open area an Elven woman with long golden hair sat upon a cloak. Her legs were folded to one side and she was gently strumming upon a harp. The music was so beautiful, and disturbing, that Tanna didn’t notice that she’d moved to the edge of the cloak until she stopped walking.

The woman kept on playing, but asked, “You are a very skilled archer, child, tell me your name?”

“Tanna Greenleaf,” Tanna was surprised to hear her own voice. She hadn’t tried to speak yet the words had tumbled out.

“Tanna Greenleaf,” the woman said, as if tasting the name. “What is your role within the Elfish Warband, Tanna?”

“I’m the chief of scouts and archers for my Lord Sornohen et Maiar.”

There was a shifting within the woman’s posture and she patted the ground next to her. “Come, Tanna, sit down, we have much to talk about.”

Tanna started to move forward and then her eyes met the woman’s and Tanna saw that instead of normal eyes the woman’s appeared to be windows into a furnace filled with fire. Then she dropped her eyes and settled to the ground next the harper. The woman then looked up at Tanna’s partner, “Sleep child, I need to have words with your leader.”

The second Elf without a word settled to the ground and closed her eyes, and was fast asleep within minutes. There was a part of Tanna that was alarmed at this and by the vision of the woman’s eyes she tried to stand up but her body refused to respond. She tried to speak but her lips remained closed.

“Now, child, I need to know everything you can remember about Sornohen et Maiar and everything about you and your role within the Warband.”

The Orc Warchief and Commander of the Warg-Riders, Xorag, stood on the ridge that gave him a good view of the host. Even though it was night, his vision was excellent and he could see that the host had slowly moved forward. It couldn’t afford to get too far behind the skirmish line, and if it got too close then it might not be able to move north or south fast enough to engage the enemy, depending on where Elfish force was hiding. Xorag had to maintain his position as well, relative to the main host. Once they engaged the Elves he would circle them and hit them from either flank. Of course a Warg-Rider could cover far more ground than an Orc, so he didn’t need to be as close to the host. For a moment he thought about giving the command to mount up and move forward but he know this was just his desire to be doing something, waiting went against his nature.

Suddenly the sound of hooves filled the air and Xorag spun around to see what was going on. From the tree line burst an Elven Knight followed by another and another. In a few seconds more than a hundred Knights appeared charging toward the Orc cavalry. Xorag knew that this was impossible. The Elven Warband had been trapped between Gothmog’s army in the west and Kâlraug’s force in the east. It was impossible for a Warband to be east of Xorag’s Warg cavalry, yet there was no denying what his eyes saw. Then the Knights were upon them.

Xorag leapt into the saddle of his Warg and blew the horn attached to his saddle by a thread of leather made from Elf-hide. The Warg cavalry might have lacked discipline but they made up for it in speed and a sense of self preservation. Before the Elfish Knights had gotten much beyond the outer line of riders, the Warg cavalry were in the saddle moving to engage the Elves. Xorag felt his pulse race, by his estimation there were about two hundred Knights facing his Riders, the odds were ten to one in his favor! He bellowed his war-cry and charged the leader of the knights. A She-Elf, in golden armor with a red tabard and she practically glowed with power and vitality.

The momentum of the charge had dissipated and before Xorag could reach her the leader of the Elves lifted a bugle to her lips and blew a loud clear blast. The cavalry wheeled about and disengaged from the numerically superior Warg-Riders with an enviable skill. The Orcs had been taken by surprise and had reeled back in fear, but that fear had quickly turned to rage and they’d rallied against the Elves. Now that the Elves were in retreat, that rage turned to glee and the shout went up to give chase. Xorag put his heels to his Warg and swung his long handled war-ax in a circle over his head before pointing it at the fleeing Elves and gave the order to pursue them.

Molly watched as the force of Knights approached. Sir Fallaistra led the way with her Knights following closely behind. Even with Elfish vision most of the Warband would have trouble seeing them at this distance, in the dark, but ever since Molly had learned how to embrace his Griffin nature his vision had improved and seeing in the dark had become simple. Sir Fallaistra was leading her knights up a dry streambed at a breakneck speed.

Running their horse through the forest was difficult and the Warg-Riders held a huge advantage. But the dry stream bed allowed Sir Fallaistra to take advantage of the full speed of her Elven-steeds and to open the gap between them and the Wargs. The streambed ran between a pair of low ridges. Obviously during the rainy season the stream had cut a path through the land to the bog at the center of Nevrast. Then from the forest behind Fallaistra the first of the Warg-Riders burst into view.

As the Knights followed the streambed the banks rose higher and became steeper until they’d formed a pair of steep cliff like ridges to either side. The stream got narrower as the sides got steeper and the Knights were forced into a tighter formation as they pulled away from the Warg-Riders.

Abruptly, Molly embraced Kratos spirit and felt his bones shift and grow. Armor appeared out of nowhere covering Molly in a layer of protection. The change took a few seconds and once done Molly drew his sword and pointed it to a spot over the draw where the Warg-Riders were still chasing the Elves and unleashed his power. A spark of light leapt from the tip of his Gladius and raced up into the night air above the Orcs. When it reached its apex over the Orcs it burst into a ball of white hot flame just over a foot in diameter. The light was bright enough to be seen for miles and the Elven Archers stationed along either side of the streambed, seeing the signal, let fly with a volley of white fletched arrows.

The Orcs were taken completely by surprise, blinded by the light, and in that moment they hesitated. The led riders died under a storm of arrows. Then horns sounded at the far end of the draw and Molly with his superior vision saw the Elfish infantry move into position to close off the Orcs line of retreat. The archers continued to ply their deadly craft upon the Orcs who were stalled, confused, and unsure what to do. The draw was so narrow at this point that the Warg Cavalry where pressed nearly shoulder to shoulder making them easy targets for the archers.

The Elfish cavalry had now passed Molly at the upper end of the draw and Molly moved forward bringing with him the rest of the infantry. The slope down to where the Orcs were trapped in the dry streambed was enough to add momentum to Molly’s charge. Then he was upon them and through their line. The Elfish infantry hurried to keep up, but Molly didn’t care. The Orcs couldn’t stand the pressure from the archers and Molly’s charge and Xorag sounded the retreat.

They started to fall back moving down the draw when the main force of Molly’s infantry hit them from behind. Now panic set in and the Orcs tried to climb the sides of the draw. The sides at this point were like cliffs and the archers along the top took full advantage of this fact. A few of the Orcs made it to the top but they were cut down ruthlessly by the defenders. In an act of brave desperation Xorag charged forward. His battle ax took the lives of a pair of Elves before he faced Molly.

Undaunted by the glowing power he faced Xorag swung an over hand strike at Molly’s head while Kîr, his Warg, lunged at Molly’s leg. Molly blocked the ax with his Gladius and stepped back quickly so that Kîr’s fangs snapped uselessly.

“Throw down your weapons spawn of Morgoth and I will let you live.”

Xorag’s snarl sounded almost identical to Kîr’s as they both attacked. This time Molly reversed his move, blocking the ax with his shield so that he could bring his Gladius down in a might sweeping cut. The blow passed through Kîr’s neck and sent Xorag tumbling to one side as the giant wolf died. Xorag stumbled to his feet just as Molly stomp-kicked him in the chest. The Orc War-Chief was thrown back and he lost his grip on his ax. He rolled onto all fours trying to get up and draw his scimitar and then the pommel of Molly’s sword made contact with his neck and he knew no more.

Molly looked out over the field of battle, ‘if you could call it that,’ he thought, ‘more like a slaughter house,’ and almost felt bad for the Orcs. The trap had worked to perfection and with the Warg Cavalry gone the army of Morgoth didn’t have a force that was capable of running the Elves down. Now Molly could out maneuver the enemy at will and choose the ground for each engagement. The strategic advantage he’d just won was something he wondered if his opponent would fully appreciate. ‘Well, no matter, before the summer is over he will!’ Molly thought.

“My Lord Sornohen?”

Molly continued to look out over the draw, he’d heard her approach and by now he was familiar with her scent and didn’t need to look. Boreas had improved all five of Molly’s senses and he was becoming more and more used to using them.

“Yes, Sir Fallaistra, what is it?”

“The cavalry cleared the draw and I’ve sent them forward to screen our movement. As you ordered.”

“Excellent.”

Molly looked over at Fallaistra. Her armor still glowed softly as she started to bank her power. Just then the light Molly had summoned failed and darkness descended upon them.

“What is it?”

“Forgive me, my lord, it’s just . . .” she paused to collect herself, “I’ve fought the forces of Morgoth before, but never have I seen such a slaughter. I doubt we lost a score yet, unless I’m mistaken, the entire Warg Cavalry has been annihilated.”

Molly turned to look down at the draw. Orc and Wag bodies had died in such close proximity that they lay, piled on top of each other and the dry streambed now ran with their black blood. Molly wondered briefly how far downstream the blood would flow before it dried up.

“That was the idea, Fallaistra.”

“I had assumed, due to your name that you are a disciple of Manwë for your eyesight is keen and you can take the shape of a mighty beast of the sky. But after seeing this, I now understand, you must be of the House of Tulkas. Only one who has studied with the Champion of the Valar could bring such ruin upon Morgoth’s forces.”

Molly let out a sigh and had to suppress the desire to tell Fallaistra that he had no idea what she was going on about. Instead he let go of Kratos and felt his body shift, shrinking as his armor disappeared. In a few seconds he was naked and was startled to realize that his manhood was engorged. At this Molly heard Kratos chuckle in the back of his mind.

*Nothing like a good fight to get the blood up!*

For a second Molly wanted to cover himself with his hands but his male pride wouldn’t allow it. Then Fallaistra handed him the cloak he’d discarded at the start of the battle. Their hands touched and Molly was suddenly very aware that Fallaistra was a beautiful female. He had a brief image in his mind’s eye to throw her to the ground and take her, here on the field of battle for all to see. Molly felt Kratos urging him to act, it was an ancient rite of victory to make a son on the field where you’d slain your enemies.

*Our sons will be fine and strong.*

Molly pushed back the compulsion and ignored Kratos, but when he looked down at Fallaistra Molly saw that some of what he’d been thinking must have shown on his face because the look she gave him said that such an act wasn’t unwelcome.

“Send someone to find the First-Spear. I want to have our forces moving within half an hour.”

Fallaistra saluted and as she turned to go Molly added, “Oh, and let Tanna Greenleaf know I need to speak with her.”

“Aye, M’Lord.”

As Fallaistra walked away Molly couldn’t resist watching her shapely figure and he wondered what it would feel like to run his hands over her smooth backside, to grip it with both hands and bury his cock to the hilt in her. He took a half step forward and felt Boreas come awake watching the eligible female. The Griffin’s thoughts weren’t sophisticated, he was male, Fallaistra was female, and mating was a natural and appropriate act. ‘Not you too!’ Molly thought and forced the male aspects into the back of his mind, he had work to do.

Dawn had come before Molly had allowed his army to set up camp. The Elves dropped gratefully to the ground but Alion, the first spear, and Molly had moved among them getting the tired warriors to set up camp before resting. The night had been long, first the forced march through the enemy lines. Then the battle with the Warg-Riders and finally the second march. Molly knew his Warband needed rest. But he also knew that they needed to get leagues between them and the enemy before he allowed it.

“Cap’n we’re settled in, you should rest.”

Molly glanced over at Alion. The old warrior had a fresh looking cut along one cheek and he looked tired.

“I’m not the only one.”

“Aye, once the watch is set I’ll settle down for a nap.”

“I suppose that your right.”

Molly moved to the center of the camp and his tent, he felt tired but not as tired as he should have. Somehow he knew that it was vitality that came from Kratos and Griffin. Even in his human form he could feel the power of the tattoos flowing into him. If he had to, Molly knew, he could continue for days without rest. Well, there were maps in his tent, he’d take a look at them and then maybe a quick flight to scout out the enemy’s position.

Already thinking about his next move Molly opened the flap to his tent and stepped into the dimly light interior. As he did he caught the scent of Tanna, just before she stood up.

“My lord, I understand you needed to speak with me?”

Molly let the tent flap drop and stepped in, “Yes, I need you to divide the scouts and archers into two groups. One will be my eyes and ears the other must start hunting Orc scouts.” Tanna moved closer to Molly he became very aware of how attractive she was and Molly felt his new appendage grow hard. Trying to ignore his body Molly continued, “Now that we can out maneuver the enemy our next task is to blind him.”

Tanna was now standing only a foot from Molly he realized that she’d taken off her armor. She still wore the green of a scout and archer but the thin fabric seemed like a fragile barrier. Tanna looked up at Molly had her eyes seemed to smolder with desire.

“Yes, my lord. Shall I lead the hunters and or would you prefer to . . . keep me close to you?”

Molly stepped closer and reached down to tilt Tanna’s chin up, “Cainir.” The name came out with a gravelly sort of sound and Molly tried to clear his voice of desire, “He can lead the hunters, he is a skilled ranger and is used to this sort of work. Hunting Orcs in the wild.”

Tanna lifted a hand up to touch Molly’s cheek and he felt a spark and then desire for this woman drove almost all thoughts from his mind. He leaned down and kissed her. The kiss seemed to go on and on and a part of Molly’s mind said this was wrong! He was a woman, not a man, but that part was drowned out by the raw power of the masculine need. The need to dominate, to control, to take this delectable female and thrust into her inner softness to dominate and own her. Molly leaned back and he could hear Tanna practically purring with pleasure. Again Molly’s mind rebelled he was a girl, this was wrong! There was an almost silent chuckle from Kratos, *Lad, you are no more female than a stallion, now take that woman!* the rampant member in Molly’s trousers was now impossible to ignore.

Then Tanna reached down to stroke his cock through his trousers, “What does my lord intend to do with me?”

Abruptly Molly gave in, the needs of his body were too much to ignore and Tanna’s brazen desire had turned the flame in Molly’s blood into a full blaze. Molly scooped Tanna up and carried her to the blankets set on the ground near the back of the tent.

“Oh, aye, I plan to keep you very close!”

Logan tried to brush her hair out of her eyes and couldn’t help staring. They’d been riding since an hour after sunrise and even though they were still in the pass the trail had just turned and now Logan for the first time could see the valley below. The Valley of Tumladen stretched out in front of her green and flat with small streams crisscrossing the verdant plain. Even at this height she couldn’t see the far side of the valley. At the edge of her vision, shining white upon the only hill in the valley, the morning sunlight fell upon a city with tall buildings made of a white stone.

“Ondolindë, the city of fountains,” Narmartë said, moving over next to Logan. “It is also called Gondobar or Gondothlimbar, the city of stone and the city of the Dwellers in Stone; some of have called it Gwarestrin, the Tower of the Guard, and Gar-Thurion, the Secret Place for the city is hidden from Morgoth. But these days it is commonly known in Sindarian as Gondolin the Stone of Song.” Narmartë’s voice had taken on a strange quality, filled with a raw emotion, and Logan looked over at her. But Narmartë was looking out at the city, “It is said that King Turgon fashioned it after Tirion the city of the Valar in Valinor itself.”

“King Turgon?”

At this Narmartë seemed to come back to herself and look over at Logan, “King Turukáno’s Sindarian name is Turgon.”

Logan nodded happy to have Narmartë talking again. Dinner last night had been awkward. Narmartë and Penlod had obviously wanted to be by themselves yet they’d refused both Logan and Ronir’s attempts to leave insisting that they share a meal. When dinner was over Sir Ronir had offered to escort Logan back to the Inn. Logan had quickly accepted and as they’d left she was keenly aware that neither Narmartë nor Penlod were really aware of their departure. Ronir, as it turned out, was an excellent companion. The night had been young enough to spend a few minutes walking around the town and Logan had learned a bit of its history and that of the guard, and the gates that protected the valley from Morgoth’s forces.

As they’d walked through the town Logan wondered if this was what it felt like for a girl to go on her first date. Her heart fluttered and raced and she found herself laughing, even when Ronir’s jokes weren’t all that funny. By the time they’d returned to the inn Sir Ronir was holding Logan’s hand and Logan could have sworn that her feet didn’t need to touch the ground. He’d left her with the promise to see her again before dawn. When Logan had asked why, Ronir had told her that they’d all been summoned to the palace.

Logan had met Narmartë the next morning in the common room for a quick breakfast of fruit, bread, and cheese and Narmartë had been very quiet up until now. Logan wasn’t sure what had happened but she was sure that whatever it was it had been a life changing moment for her. Seeing that Narmartë was talking Logan took advantage of the opportunity.

“What is King Turgon like? Will he provide forces to help in the defense of Nevrast?”

At this Narmartë looked over at Logan and then shook her head. “I don’t know. All of us, those who stayed in Nevrast, did so knowing that we were on our own. The King wanted all of his folk to take up residence in Tumladen and was upset with any who stayed.”

“But I thought you were presented at court?”

“Yes, my family came with the King into Tumladen, but many of my kin did not. We traveled from time to time out into Nevrast to visit. It was on one of those trips that my parents were ambushed and slain. After that I chose to revenge myself upon the Orc’s of Angband by serving as a Ranger in Nevrast under my kinsman Sir Helcëtôr’s command.”

Narmartë’s voice trailed off and for a time they continued in silence. The trail up into the pass had been very narrow at times and filled with switchbacks. Now that they were through the pass it widened out and was much easier going. By the time the sun had climbed to its peak they were out of it and upon the flat plain. Now Logan looked around in awe. The road was made of white stone and ran straight toward the city. The streams she’d spotted earlier crisscrossed the fields bringing water to the farmers before running into a large lake at the foot of the hill.

Logan didn’t have Molly’s eyesight but she was surprised at how large the valley was when Narmartë informed her that they’d be stopping at an Inn for the night and that they would be traveling all day tomorrow and not arrive until noon on the day after. The mountains had been cold and Logan had learned to draw upon her power over fire to heat herself but now that she was in the valley the air was warm and filled with the rich scents of growing things.

They made good time along the great road and as they passed small villages or individual houses the elves dwelling in the valley paused to wave and call out to them. The openness and expressions of contentment told Logan that these Elves were isolated from what was going on out in Nevrast. It made her wonder how they would react if they knew that their kin were being slaughtered. Somehow Logan doubted that the King was ignorant of events in the outer world. By the time they stopped for the night Logan felt her unease turn into a sense of foreboding. She didn’t know what was going on with Molly but she felt that he was in danger. Whatever he’d gotten up to she knew that Molly must be in the thick of the fighting and here she was, safe, playing at being the perfect little lady. Molly’s dad, Richard, had hired her to keep Molly safe and at the moment Logan was failing at that task.

Logan looked into the mirror still a bit surprised at the red-haired beauty that looked back. Molly was a beautiful woman and now that Logan wore her body she was as well. Logan figured that she’d have gotten used to the image by now if there had been more mirrors since she no longer noticed the movement of her breasts as she walked. In fact her body felt so normal and natural that she was having trouble remembering what it felt like to be a man.

Two and a half days in the saddle should have left her feeling tired but the vitality that Melchiresa poured into her had washed away the fatigue. Logan looked at the green silk dress and ran her hands over the gossamer material, a gift from Narmartë after they’d arrived at the palace. Attendants had shown Logan to a room with a large tub and even though she wasn’t tired the bath had been an almost decadent luxury.

Now, clean and dressed in silk the battle going on in Nevrast seemed like a world away. The King had to be convinced to help. Logan could tell that Narmartë was worried. During the trip to Gondolin Narmartë had explained that requests for aid had been denied in the past. Logan hadn’t told Narmartë what she planned to do, but she knew that she had to do everything she could to help Molly and the Elves in Nevrast. ‘Let’s see if the King can turn down one of the Maiar.’ she thought. Then Logan reached for Melchiresa’s power and felt it spread from the tattoo on her back flowing forward shifting Logan’s flesh. At the same time Logan managed to control the change so that she only gained a couple of inches although the front of the dress was now stretched tight across Logan’s much larger chest.

*Hmmmm . . . Green looks good on us.*

“Yes, it does.”

Logan turned to check out her profile the long black hair didn’t hid the small silver horns and Melchiresa’s magic had altered the outfit so that her wings now had a pair of holes in the back of the dress.

“Yes, let’s see the king ignore us now.”

Just then a bell tinkled and Logan knew that someone was at the door. She crossed the room her boots made a harsh click-clack but she knew this would only add to the Elves perception that she came from beyond this world. When Logan opened the door she saw Narmartë in a long blue dress and next to her stood Penlod and Ronir both wearing coats with tall collars looking very solider like in their dress uniforms.

Penlod’s indrawn breath was a sharp response to Logan’s unexpected appearance. Rather than wait for the question Logan spoke first. “I believe that you said it is important we make an impression on the King. Let him see me in my Maiar form and then decide if he won’t hear our plea.”

The two men seemed a little stunned by Logan’s comment but Narmartë giggled and slid an arm through Logan’s.

“Yes, let us see what the King will say.”

They swept past the two speechless males and Narmartë said over one shoulder, “Close your mouths my lords, one would think that you’d never seen a Lady of the Maiar before.”

The men helplessly exchanged a look before Penlod whispered, “I don’t know about you Ronir, but I’ve never seen a Maiar before.”

At this Ronir chuckled and turned to follow the ladies, “I have the advantage, sir, I saw Lady Ilcaúrna before. But it was on the field of battle as she slew a Balrog.” Ronir shook his head, “I had no idea what she looked like when not in battle. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”

Penlod clapped Ronir on the shoulder and the two men hurried to catch up. They were almost to the throne room by the time Penlod and Ronir took up positions to either side of the Ladies. By the doors was a pair of guards in silver armor with blue tabards. Their tall helms had white wings flowing to either side making them seem even taller than they already were.

The Kings Guard opened the tall silver doors and when the four stepped in a Herald announced in a loud voice.

“My Lords and Ladies, Your Majesty, my I present, my Lord Penlod, Thlim Climbol and his betrothed the Lady Narmartë Thlim Ith Mindon, and Sir Ronir Thlim Climbol, Captain of the Ilcanalta Guards.”

There was a low murmur among the small group of nobles in the throne room as the Herald paused for breath.

“It is my great honor to present the Lady Ilcaúrna et Maiar to your majesty.”

This time the voices were more than a low murmur and the Logan saw the Elf at the far end of the hall, sitting upon a tall chair of white wood and mithril silver, held up a hand. Silence swept down upon the nobles and as if on cue the four approached the throne. As they did Logan saw that he was tall, taller than her, unless she embraced Melchiresa’s full power. A silver crown rested on his long golden hair and Logan though this had to be the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Melchiresa stirred and hummed her agreement.

*Can we play with him?*

‘No, now be quiet.’

By this time they’d reached the Diaz and Sir Ronir took a knee pressing the knuckles of his right hand to the marble floor while bowing his head. Narmartë offered a deep curtsey while Penlod bowed deeply. Some instinct told Logan to meet King Turgon’s gaze and when she did she saw that they smoldered with a sapphire fire as clear and clean as the frozen north.

“My Lord’s and Lady’s please rise.” King Turgon’s voice was like music on a summer night. Even though he was speaking to Logan’s companions his gaze never left Logan. Then he stood up and slowly, gracefully, made his way down the steps stopping only a few feet from Logan. Then he bowed.

“My Lady Ilcaúrna, to long has it been since my eyes have been graced by the sight of one of the Maiar. Please be welcome in my humble hall.”

“My Lord, King Turgon, thank you. But it is with terrible tidings I come before you this day, for even as we speak the forces of the enemy are burning Nevrast and killing your kin.”

When Logan spoke she could tell that her news didn’t come as a surprise to the King but the sound of in-drawn breath from the nobles watching told him that most of them hadn’t known.

“Aye, my lady, ill tidings indeed. Yet, I am aware. To that end,” he paused looking at Penlod, “I command My Lord Penlod. Take House Climbol and House Ith Mindon and go forth and rescue our kin.”

“My Lord,” Penlod spoke a note of confusion in his voice, “I am the Lord of House Climbol, but Sir Helcëtôr Thlim Ith Mindon has fallen upon the field of honor. The rightful heir to Ith Mindon is my lady Narmartë.”

At this the King smiled, “And are you not betrothed to lady Narmartë?”

“Aye, my lord.”

As he said it Logan felt the atmosphere within the room changed. A surge of excitement filled the air as the gathered nobles watched their King. The King turned to Narmartë, “Lady Narmartë do you intend to honor your vows and wed Sir Penlod?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then I see no reason to wait. Penlod take Narmartë’s hand.”

Logan moved to one side as it dawned on her what was about to happen. Penlod turned to face Narmartë and took her hand in his and the King laid his hand upon their hands.

“My lady Narmartë, I have loved you since the first day we met. I vow to honor you, love you, and stand by you until death part’s us.”

Narmartë looked stunning in her blue gown as she looked up at Penlod, “My Lord, I too have loved you since the day you challenged me to a race. My horse may have won the contest but on that day you won my heart. I am yours now and forever until Arda is no more.”

The simple vows said in voices filled with love shook something inside of Logan. A part of her that had been hard as stone, locked away deep inside, kept safe during all her years of combat. That hard place sort of melted and she felt tears leak down her cheeks. The power of the couple was such that as they spoke they were illuminated by a soft radiance and then it was the King’s turn.

“I have heard your vows and all present bear witness. Under the light and by the grace of Manwë and Varda I declare that you are wed. Your Houses are joined. May you prosper under the light for all time.”

As the King finished speaking there was a sort of ripple and power flowed out from the three and when it passed over Logan she knew that she’d beheld something very special. Logan felt her own power flare up as if to say that she to bore witness to the oath.

King Turgon looked out at the nobles and smiled at them and Logan felt her heart leap at his beauty. “Let us prepare a feast in honor of our newlyweds. Tomorrow we send out the red arrow and gather the People for War, but tonight we celebrate!”