Current situation:

Molly distracted by Tanna Greenleaf and her new masculine urges is caught by surprise by Gothmog and Kâlraug. The ensuing battle turns desperate and when all hope of victory appears lost Logan makes his entrance.

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.

Logan fidgeted and then moved deeper into the shadows cast by the building. ‘God, I hate waiting,’ she thought. The Elves in the courtyard milled around in a sort of organized chaos that reminded Logan of his days in the military. Standing around waiting for the morning formation, no matter the race or culture it was all the same. Despite her impatience to be moving Logan had to admit that once the Elves started to take action they’d done so with great efficiency.

After King Turgon’s pronouncement the Elves had moved quickly. Logan thought back to the feast that the King had thrown and her lips twitched at the memory. They’d moved from the throne room through a set of tall sliver and glass doors that opened onto a garden. The sun was still high and set between the trees were small tables filled with things to eat and drink. The nobles immediately moved between the tables and Logan found Sir Ronir standing by her elbow.

“Does the King always act so spontaneously?”

Ronir’s grin was a quick flash of white teeth and then he shook his head. “I suppose that to one of the Maiar we might seem fickle. I can assure you that what the King just did was thoroughly planned.”

Logan felt puzzled and quirked an eyebrow waiting for the Knight to continue.

“Penlod and Narmartë have been betrothed for almost a hundred years. Narmartë’s obsession with taking vengeance upon the Orcs Morgoth has plagued Nevrast with has prevented their union. Now that Sir Helcëtôr is dead Narmartë is the Lord of House Ith Mindon. King Turgon acted brilliantly today, by joining them in marriage and giving Penlod the task of saving Nevrast Narmartë had no excuse to put off the wedding.”

Ronir paused to take a sip of wine and then continued his eyes sparkling. “This gives the King a perfect excuse to rescue the Elves of Nevrast without losing face over their failure to follow his orders. Second the battle will firmly establish Penlod as the Lord of both House Climbol and House Ith Mindon. Penlod has long held the King’s favor and this prevents a possible scramble for power between Narmartë and her cousins. That would have been a fight Narmartë would have lost because she would have undoubtedly left Tumladen for Nevrast.”

At this Ronir paused and scooped a fluted glass from an Elf carrying a tray of them and with a flourish offered the glass to Logan.

“Thank you.” Logan accepted the wine and after a sip gasped out, “I think this might be the best wine I’ve ever had!”

“It is said that the King brought the seeds with him from Valinor.”

“So, this wedding binds two Great Houses together and puts that power in the hands of Turgon’s ally.”

“Yes, and it does one other significant thing. With the destruction of the Orc invasion Narmartë’s desire for vengeance will have been satisfied. As the wife of a Great Lord, she will be duty bound to remain at Penlod’s side here in Tumladen. This will make Penlod happy because they are both truly in love.”

“So there were political reasons, strategic reasons, and personal reasons for the King to act.”

Ronir took a sip of wine and nodded. “Yes, the King is not cold or heartless."

“And did you or Penlod know about this before we walked into the throne room?”

At this Ronir looked away and Logan detected a faint flush. “You did! Why didn’t you tell me or Narmartë?

“There was no guarantee. We discussed it and it made sense. But we didn’t know until the King Turgon chose to act.”

“Did I hear my name?”

Ronir spun around in surprise and Logan had to suppress a giggle. She’d seen the King approach and hadn’t given Ronir any clue on purpose. It was a petty vengeance for him holding out on her, but it felt good.

“I was just explaining the implications of Lord Penlod and Lady Narmartë’s wedding to Lady Ilcaúrna.”

“Ah, how thoughtful of you Sir Ronir.”

Ronir flushed even further with embarrassment and the King turned to Logan.

“Do you think I am cold hearted for using them in this way?”

For a second Logan felt Melchiresa stir and suddenly her awareness of Turgon seemed to intensify and time stood still. Logan could feel the humor lurking beneath the King’s exterior at his helping Logan punish Ronir. Deeper still Logan felt a cold hard shield that the King used to keep others away. A wall he surrounded himself with so that he could make decisions out of logic instead of emotion. Under that shield was a deep well of sorrow and pain. Logan felt her breath catch and a tear formed at the edge of her eye. Something had hurt the King. Hurt him so deeply that every day was a fresh agony. Then below that Logan sensed a burning determination. The King would never give up. He would never give in once he’d set a task for himself. Then the odd extra sense seemed to die away and time started back up.

“My Lady would you care to walk with me? The feast will take a few hours to prepare.” He glanced over at Sir Ronir, “If that is okay with you, Sir Ronir. I know I’m stealing her away but I promise to return her safely.”

“I am my own person Turgon. And let me assure both of you I’m quite capable of looking after my own safety.”

With a laugh the King extended his arm, “Then will you accompany me for a few minutes?”

Feeling like she’d been tricked into agreeing Logan slid her small hand through his arm. The King guided them away from the nobles and Logan was a little surprised at the size of the garden. Within a few minutes it felt like they were all alone.

“I’ve not seen one of your kind since I left Valinor. Tell me Lady Ilcaúrna what brings you to Tumladen?”

Logan paused and spotted a small white flower growing from a bush next the path. She leaned down and inhaled the scent, light and sweat it almost made her head spin and she felt her nipples grown hard.

“What is this flower? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“It is known as Altavendë”

“Maiden’s glory?”

The King nodded, “It is also said that its scent can only be appreciated by a maiden. Once wed the fragrance will be different. To a man the flower has no aroma.”

“I see,” Logan took a half step back from the flower and looked at the King noting that he was very tall. For a moment she thought about using her power and adjusting her height so she could look him in the eye. Instead she placed a hand lightly over his heart.

“What has caused you to be so sad?”

The King’s face turned pale but before he could step back Logan caught his eye and she felt Melchiresa’s power surge again and the King froze.

“It was your wife. Wasn’t it?”

The King nodded, “Yes. She passed away during the crossing.”

Logan could feel the beating of the King’s heart under her fingers and she stepped closer. “You grieve for her yet.”

“For as long as I live, I will grieve.”

Logan kept their eyes locked and reached up with her free hand to run her fingers lightly over Turgon’s face. Smooth skin covered high cheek bones as Logan’s fingers just touching Turgon moved down to his strong chin.

“You are very handsome Turgon son of Fingolfin. The pain you carry inside of you is eating you, you must let it go and learn to live again. You have a daughter and a people to look after. This city will one day be the light that keeps the darkness of Morgoth at bay.”

The words came out of Logan’s mouth but it was like another person was speaking. “Let me start the healing process.”

“I . . . I don’t know if I can.”

“I’ll help.”

Logan watched as the hand that had been stroking the King’s face moved around behind his head and pulled him down. Slowly their lips touched and the spark of skin on skin sent an electric thrill directly to Logan’s nipples, groin, and stomach.

‘What are you doing?!’ Logan shouted silently at Melchiresa within her mind.

*What I was sent to do. Now be still and enjoy.*

Logan felt her tongue dart between the King’s lips and the hand that had been touching the King’s heart moved down to his groin. The organ between Turgon’s legs responded to Logan’s touch and she felt a thrill run through her.

“Aahhh . . . I . . . what if someone discovers us?”

Turgon had somehow pulled back enough to separate their lips and Logan made a little pouting face. Then she waved her hand and Logan felt power surge out.

“There, the wards will cause anyone coming this way to become confused and turn around. No one will find us now.”

Then Logan reached up and undid the clasps holding her dress. It fluttered to the ground and she stepped into the King’s arms.

Logan shook her head dismissing the memory. She hadn’t spoken to Melchiresa since that night. Later that night Turgon had escorted her to the banquet and seated her on his right and at some point during the feast Logan realized that she once again had control of her body. Logan had quickly explained that the wine was getting to her and she needed some fresh air. Turgon had wanted to follow her but as the host it was his duty to remain at the feast.

Logan had fled to her room where she promptly got sick. “You bitch! You used me.”

*Yes. I did, and in exchange you have access to my power. Logan, you are a good woman but you and Molly wouldn’t have survived if Manwë and Varda hadn’t directed Kratos and I to join with you.*

“Was this your plan all along?”

Logan could feel Melchiresa move inside her. *I was instructed to find Turgon and if possible heal him.*

“Seducing him is healing him?”

At this Melchiresa giggled, *In this case? Yes. We just got lucky. He is an excellent lover. You experienced five female climaxes.*

“I’m a man! I didn’t want to ‘experience’ even one female climax!”

*You were a man. Your body is fully female and you are more and more feminine every day. In time even your spirit will be a woman’s.*

Logan heard her name and looked up. Sir Ronir was approaching and she dismissed the memory of the conversation with Melchiresa.

“I will never be a woman,” Logan whispered softly. “We’ve got to get back to the gate and get through it before Melchiresa’s right.”

“Lady Ilcaúrna, we are ready to ride.” Sir Ronir said.

Logan moved quickly to the horse that the King had given her yesterday as a gift for the upcoming battle. It was a large grey stallion and Logan had been instantly taken by its beauty and power. As soon as she was mounted Sir Ronir moved his smaller mare over beside Logan’s.

“Do you think these will be enough to destroy the army from Angband?”

“This is but a small fraction of the force that will answer the call.” Ronir responded. “It will take us two days to get to the pass, at every cross road more will join.”

Just then Lord Penlod moved out of the palace with Narmartë at his side. They both wore armor in the colors of their houses. Penlod in red and gold while Narmartë moved along next to him in sliver and white. They took the head of the column and Ronir moved up behind then and Logan followed.

Some instinct made Logan glance up and back over her shoulder and she saw King Turgon on an upper balcony of the palace. Their eyes met and the King flashed her a smile. Logan couldn’t help returning the smile and then looked away. The warmth in the King’s eyes suddenly made Logan feel tingly and it made a part of her wonder if Melchiresa hadn’t been right. The cold wall that the King had been using to shield off emotions was gone. Logan knew the sadness was still there but he was now reaching out to those he loved.

Logan felt Melchiresa stir but then she settled and Penlod stood tall in his saddle.

“Move out!”

At this command the warriors of Ondolindë moved forward a tide of bright steel.

The next two days passed in a blur for Logan. Just as Ronir had predicted at every cross road they were met by yet another band of warriors. By the time they reached the road that led up into the Hidden Way the host had swelled to over ten thousand warriors. Logan had worried at the slow pace and wanted to urge Penlod and Narmartë to hurry but had refrained. Gathering an army took time she just hoped that Molly was able to hold out until they reached Nevrast.

Moving up into the pass was torture for Logan since the pace slowed even more. Time and again she considered shifting into Melchiresa’s full form and flying up over the mountains and finding Molly. Somehow she knew that if she did that it would be a disaster.

The fifth day after leaving Gondolin dawned bright and clear and Logan, now riding next to Narmartë felt fear grip her heart. It was sudden and intense and she swayed in the saddle.

“Ilcaúrna, are you well?” The concern in Narmartë’s voice brought Logan back.

“I’m fine. But we must move if we are going to be of any use to Sornohen. I don’t understand it but I feel like we are now out of time.” Logan suddenly urged her horse forward to where Penlod was riding at the head of the column. Narmartë urged her horse to follow so both ladies arrived at the same time.

Penlod flashed a smile at Narmartë before turning to Logan. “My, lady?”

“Lord Penlod, now that we are clear of the Way, we must ride hard. I do not fully understand it, but the doom of Nevrast is with us. Abandon all caution, boldness is called for! If we don’t reach the battle field by this time tomorrow all will be lost.”

For a moment Penlod stared at Logan shocked and then without hesitation turned to Sir Ronir. “Ronir, sound the horns. We will abandon any that cannot keep up.” Then he turned to Logan. “Led the way Ilcaúrna et Maiar and if we have the strength, we will stay with you.”

The sounds of battle grew louder as they raced along through the forest. Logan glanced back over her shoulder impressed by the strength of the Elves. Penlod had been true to his word and he’d matched the pace that Logan set. The ride through the night had been exhausting and Logan knew better than to run the horses to death. Now daylight was full upon them and the sounds of battle echoed through the trees.

Suddenly Logan exited the tree line and had her first clear view of what was in front of them. The Orc army was being funneled between a ridge and a steep river bank. Logan couldn’t see the defenders but she knew that numbers were on the side of the Orcs. Penlod pulled his horse to a stop next to her and leaned forward scanning the host.

“They have not noticed us.”

His statement was full of confidence and Logan nodded. “No. They have not.”

More and more Elves began to appear from the woods and Penlod didn’t have to issue any orders as they spread out to the left and right. Rank upon rank the riders settled their steeds and prepared. It took longer than Logan would have wished for but now, at the end of the race they needed to make the attack count.

Narmartë moved up to take a spot to Logan’s left and Penlod was on her the right. He glanced at the line and nodded to Ronir. With a grin Ronir pulled a silver war horn from his saddle bag and raised it to his lips. The blast was clear and pure and it echoed over the open ground before them. At its first note the Elves moved forward. The horses were at a walk. In front, Orcs started to turn and stare. Now Logan urged her steed forward and the walk turned into a trot.

The Elves quickly dressed the line and more Orcs turned. More horns sounded as each Elven Knight drew out a horn and gave voice to their rage at the death and destruction wrought by Morgoth. Without looking Logan knew the sun was bright upon them and the colors of the host shone with the power of Elven arms. She urged her horse to a full gallop and the Elves once again moved to match the pace. Even at this range Logan could see terror upon the faces of the Orcs as they scrambled to set up some kind of defense. The distance between Logan and the Orcs closed with amazing speed yet it seemed slow motion to her.

Just before she reached the first Orc Logan raised a hand and a jet of fire flashed out blasting the first few Orcs from her path. Then her Kris materialized in her hand and with a small effort of will it grew in size becoming a long sword. Then Logan was among the Orcs.

Her body was filled with energy and Logan heard the sound of Eagles screaming overhead. A quick glance showed that the Giant Eagles who made their home in Echoriath and were the allies of Turgon had joined the battle.

The Eleven army pushed through the Orcs like a hot knife through butter and Logan caught sight for the first time of Gothmog. He stood out, a giant upon the battlefield and Logan felt Melchiresa stir. Rage washed through Logan. Rage at this being, a Maiar, a friend from before the world was formed, and a traitor to the music of Illúvatar now standing before her. Suddenly Logan knew that Melchiresa knew Gothmog by a different name and that her anger at his betrayal was personal. Without having to be told Logan leapt from her saddle her wings snapping down against the air speeding her flight by magic.

Gothmog turned and moved toward the river and Logan gave cry to Melchiresa’s challenge. At the sound of her rage Gothmog glanced back and even though they were more than a mile apart their eyes met. For the first time there was recognition upon Gothmog’s face and for an instant the shadows that surrounded him fled.

“Melchiresa!

Even though it was spoken softly the word flew through the air and Logan felt Melchiresa shudder.

“Long and long has it been my love. You should not have come!”

Logan felt a shock run through her and then Melchiresa responded.

“What does time matter to you and I? We stood together and sang in the void before the world was formed. And yet does your betrayal still sting. It is time, my husband, for you to leave this world for good.”

“No, my lord Morgoth still has use for me! Another time, my love.”

With that Gothmog turned and used his power to race away. Furious, Logan rushed after him. Suddenly pain exploded on her side and she tumbled to the right clawing at the air to stay aloft. The spear of darkness had been hurled at her by a Balrog Melchiresa recognized as Gôrlir. Abruptly Logan felt nothing but rage. Rage at being stopped from gaining vengeance on her husband for his betrayal. Rage that this Maiar would dare to challenge her. Rage at what had been done to the Elves by Morgoth. Fire and wind became her weapons as she tore into the Trolls and Orcs that surrounded Gôrlir. Logan lost track of time in a red haze of anger and power as she punished the creatures responsible for the corruption of the Song of Ainur.

Gôrlir stood against her power for a few minutes and then his sword twisted and stabbed him, his armor crumpled crushing his body, and Logan struck Kris flashing and in a fountain of blood she removed his head. Next Logan focused her anger on the Trolls and they died in waves as she moved forward. The Orcs were trying to run but Logan was now like a force of nature and wasn’t willing to let them escape. Having assumed the full mantel of Melchiresa’s power Logan towered over the Orcs and no one could stand before her. The rage died a little and Logan realized that a pair of Elven Knights faced her. She blinked and understood that one was Narmartë and the other was a female Knight who stood even taller than Narmartë.

“My Lady, Ilcaúrna et Maiar, the field is ours. The enemy has fled.”

It took a moment for Narmartë’s words to penetrate Logan’s mind and then she felt her body relax. With an effort Logan nodded and caused the flaming Kris to vanish.

“This is Sir Fallaistra, she had the command of the rear guard.”

Logan nodded at the Knight, “Hail, Fallaistra.”

“It is my honor to meet you Ilcaúrna. You’re arrival this day couldn’t have been more timely.”

Logan nodded, “Would that we had arrived sooner.”

“My Lady, your kinsman Lord Sornohen, I fear he needs your help. He fought and slew the Balrog Kâlraug and was grievously wounded. It is said that those of the Maiar can heal as well as slay.”

Logan felt Melchiresa agreeing and nodded to Fallaistra.

“Lead me to Sornohen.”

As they moved through the battlefield Logan slowly released the power she’d been holding and felt her form shrink to a normal human size. Worried for Molly Logan glanced at Fallaistra, “How grievous are Sornohen’s wounds?”

“In a moment you can see for yourself, the command tent is just up ahead.”

Logan nodded and had to resist using her wings to rush to his side. Now that the battle was won there was no reason to be jumpy and Logan suddenly felt certain that if Molly had died she would have known. The red gauntleted guards in front of the command tent snapped a quick salute to Fallaistra and then stepped aside. The tent was good sized but the number of Elves inside made it feel crowded. Logan could tell these were the leaders of the resistance because she could feel their power. Then one Elf, a beautiful female archer, caught her eye. There was something about this beauty that made Logan uneasy. Then she stepped back and Logan saw Molly. He was laying on a cot, naked, his wounds exposed and for a second shock ran through Logan because she was looking at her own body. At least her body before the medallion had done its work.

Then Logan saw Molly’s chiseled chest rise and fall and a feeling of relief replaced the surreal feeling of seeing her former body wounded. Logan moved forward and drew upon Melchiresa’s power and for the first time felt it respond sluggishly. She had pushed hard during the fighting and she was nearing Melchiresa’s limit. Then Logan knelt next to Molly and slowly placed her slender hand on his chest. Power pulsed out of her and Logan felt her body shift. Her wings and horns vanished and red hair replaced midnight tresses.

Then Molly coughed. Logan’s eyes focused on him and she watched as wounds closed and bruises vanished. After a second Molly’s eyes fluttered open and they focused on Logan.

“It took you long enough.”

“Better late than never.”

“Ah, just like a woman, always running late.”