The Court of Ardor by AliceNWonder000137  

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The Spread of Darkness - Part 2

Gorthaur has arrested Yavekamba for treason and means for Moran to sacrifice her to the Dark Lord.  Moran goes to beg his mother to help.  Fractures appear in the Court.

28)  The Spread of Darkness – Part 2 - Year of the Sun 311 Quellë (Fading)

Ardana

The Astrologer was deep in meditation in her bed chamber in the safety of the Citadel of Ardor.  In her mind, she was high atop Mount Taniquetil in the domed halls of Ilmarin.  She walked as if in a dream through the marble corridors and past the white pillars, veined with gold streaks.  She looked up through a clear glass dome and could see the brilliant stars, the creations of her mentor, Varda.  But, the glass distorted the image of the lights just enough to displease her.  Throughout her long life, Ardana had always demanded perfection.  She blew out a frustrated breath and continued down the hall, searching for the grand balcony where Manwë and Varda would gaze out into the dark sky, so full of twinkling lights.  For eons, she had studied under the Valie of Lights, learning of the great constellations and the composition of the heavens.  The Valië was ever patient, but Ardana not so much.  The Astrologer always wanted more, the vast knowledge that she was given, never enough.  “Such is the mind of the Noldor,” Varda would say, smiling, her face kind.  Ardana could bask in her unearthly beauty and wisdom for all eternity.

She searched for the passageway that would take her to the grand balcony, but she could not find it. Increasingly desperate, she began to run from corridor to corridor, but the familiar halls had changed somehow. She was lost.  She grabbed a Vanyar elf by the sleeve and he looked at her strangely, as if she didn’t belong.  She begged him for directions, but he looked at her as if he did not understand her words. She tugged harder at his sleeve, and he glared at her, speaking in what sounded like gibberish.  How could she not understand?  They all spoke Quenya.  He shrugged off her grip and walked quickly away, haughty as only a Vanya could be.  Where was the balcony though?  She had to see her beloved stars.  The Hunter. The Seven Sisters.  The Great Dipper.  She could recreate the entire heavens in her mind down to the smallest detail, but today, her mind was foggy.

She saw a corridor of marble walls with golden pillars.  Yes.  That was it. That was the way.  She turned at the junction and began to run, something frowned upon in sacred Ilmarin, but she didn’t care at this point.  The hope of seeing her beloved stars drove her.  She thought of the first time that she sat at Varda’s feet and the Valië lifted her hand up to the dark sky, so full of twinkling lights.

“That is the constellation Wilwarin,” Varda told her.  “I set it in the heavens to guide you when you awoke in Cuiviénen.  And the bright star there is Elemmírë that was placed there to give your people strength and wisdom.”  Ardana gasped.  She remembered awakening.  She remembered the pattern of stars and the wonder and majesty of the dark sky.  Varda moved her hand to another group of stars. “And this is Soronúmë, the Eagle of the West.  He guided you to us.”

Ardana shook off the memory.  It made her hunger for more.   The eons of learning were simply not enough. She had to have more.  It was the way of the Noldor.  She sprinted now, having caught a glimpse of the grand balcony. A cold wind took her breath for a moment, and she knew that she was near.  Then, Ardana saw her.  The golden hair and the crown of stars.  She rushed onto the balcony, which was formed of white granite with intricately crafted railings and pillars that held up golden lattice like the branches of Laurelin.  The howling winds of Taniquetil were always calm here in the sanctuary of the Valar.  She swiftly took a knee before her mentor and patron.  “Varda guide me.  I wish to learn of the stars.”

Varda made no movement and said no word.  Ardana looked up to see the Valië gazing upwards into the sky.  In place of the constellations sat a large, white sphere, shining brightly, drowning out the twinkling stars.  What travesty was this?  “Varda, what has happened?  Why can I not see your creations?”

Again, Varda did not stir. That mind of a goddess was a maze to someone as small as an elf.  “Please Varda!  Please!” She rose and dared to grasp the Valië by the arm.

Varda spun on her, her eyes blazing.  “You dare to question the sun and moon?  Did you not learn by my hand?  Did my words not bring you wisdom and comfort?  So short sighted and small are you now.”  The Valië’s body became pure light, and her intensity brightened to that of a thousand stars.  Ardana had to shield her eyes and look away.

“No!  Varda, please!  I would do anything for you.  Anything for your wisdom!”  She threw herself onto the ground and covered her head.  Then, the light was gone.  She looked up to see Varda again, reaching down with her hand.  The anger was gone, replaced by deep sadness.

“Then why did you leave? Why did you turn to darkness?” Varda gestured behind her and Ardana looked to see a dark figure with red eyes.  Melkor.  The elf tried to turn away, tried to scurry behind Varda’s legs to hide, but she could not move.  Without looking, she tried to reach up to take Varda’s hand, but it was no longer there. All that remained was the Dark Lord.

This time it was he who reached out to her.  She blinked and when she opened her eyes, he was the being of unearthly beauty again that she fell in love with, tall, wise, strong.  “We will make this right, child.  We will return the stars to their rightful place.  Varda was wrong and we will show her true beauty.  Come to me, child, and you will see.  I will be your North Star.”

She tried to resist, but her body felt weak.  She staggered a few steps and then found her footing.  She took his hand.  “Yes lord! I will help you to restore the heavens. I will help you to restore the beauty of Varda’s sky.  I am yours.” She closed her eyes and buried her head into his chest.  She felt comfort and warmth.  She could feel the just power of his being flowing into her.  Then, she heard a dark chuckle and looked up.  Her blood ran cold.  His eyes were red again and his face twisted in a snarl, teeth bared like a wolf’s.  Her eyes opened wide, and she tried to push away, but he held her fast.  His strength could level mountains and create seas. She was but an ant in his grasp.

He smiled down at her, his cold hands holding her in a vice grip to the point that she winced.  “You are mine.  Now and for all time.  I am the only god in your world.  I am the only star in your heaven.  Me.”

Terror filled Ardana’s heart, and she tried to scream, but no sound came out.  She was being shaken violently now and a voice filled her head. “Wake up!  Mother, wake up!”

As befitting an elf, Ardana roused quickly from her meditative state.  She blinked a couple of times and then focused on Moran.  His face showed fear and panic and sweat glistened on his brow and cheeks.  His black hair was a messy mop, and his silk robe rumpled.  Her heart skipped a beat.  “What Moran?  What is it?” Her son meant everything to her now. She would destroy the sun and moon for him.  She would show him the wonders of Varda’s creations.  She leapt up and quickly threw on her gown over her night shirt.

“He means to kill her, mother!  He wants me to kill her!” he shouted, barely making sense.

Ardana took him by the face with both hands.  “Who? Who wants you to kill whom?  Slow down and take a breath.”

He inhaled deeply like she had taught him and then blew out a long exhale.  “Gorthaur.  Gorthaur took Yavëkamba and Almarien!  He’s demanding that I sacrifice them!  You have to do something mother!”

Ardana narrowed her eyes. What was going on?  Was Gorthaur out of control?  She had given him wide latitude to conduct his investigations, but he was not to act without her approval.  He knew this.  Her eyes flashed like the light of a blazing star.  “Come Moran, I need to find out what it is going on.”  She sprinted down the stairs towards the courtyard.

“He thinks that she is the traitor!  That’s ridiculous,” he called as he ran down the steps behind her.  “I’ve known Yavë all my life.  This is ridiculous!”

The Astrologer knew that he was infatuated with the Healer.  It was something of small consequence, so she let it go.  Yavëkamba’s former paramour, the male Fëatur, was long dead and a stable, mature woman would do well for her son.  She paused for a moment to wonder if Gorthaur’s accusation could possibly be true.  No, the Healer had always been loyal.  Annoying at times with her altruism, but loyal.  It was the Priest who was out of control.  She looked back at Moran and nodded.  “We’re putting a stop to this.”

At the base of the Citadel, Ardana pulled a card, one showing the female Fëatur, petulant and scowling.  The card grew cold, and the figure began to move, looking at her.  “Come to the courtyard now.  There is a matter that I need your assistance on.”

Fëatur nodded. “Right away, my lady.”

The female lived for conflict and confrontation and her backing would be critical.  Ardana and her son strode out into the courtyard, and she could smell smoke and hear the crackling of flames.  For all of the horror that she had seen and done, what she saw chilled her.  These were friends, people that she knew.  Yavëkamba and Almarien were tied to stakes, stripped down to their waists with gags in their mouths.  Kindling was piled at their feet.  Gorthaur’s two priests, Taurion and Silion, stood next to them, holding lit torches, all wearing black robes.  The Silvan man and the Noldorin woman were steadfast in their devotion to Gorthaur. The High Priest strode from brazier to brazier, waving his hand to create raging fires in each.  He turned to see Ardana and Moran approach and he smiled broadly.

“You have come, my lady,” he said and then gestured to Moran.  “Come here, boy.  You must perform the sacrifice for the Dark Lord.  I will guide you.”  He held out the sacrificial dagger that had been used far too often in the recent years. “Take it, boy.  You need to cut their hearts out and then I will consign them to the flames.”

Ardana held up her hand. “He will do no such thing.  What is happening here?  We have an agreement that you will consult me before acting on any member.  Have you forgotten?”  She narrowed her eyes, letting him know of her displeasure.

The High Priest chuckled and ran his free hand through his bowl cut black hair.  “My lady,” he said in an almost condescending voice.  “I also answer directly to the Dark Lord. Like Morthrog, I carry his will.  I enforce his dogma.  I spread his word and his religion.  Now, obey the will of the Dark Lord and send your boy over.” Taurion and Silion moved to the High Priest’s side.

Ardana was shocked at his defiance.  No member of her court had dared to contradict her.  Would they be foolish enough to stand against her?  Still, Gorthaur was formidable.  He could channel power from the Dark Lord that she could not defeat.  She took a breath and analyzed her position.  A fracture in the court could be fatal.  Being defeated by Gorthaur, even more so.  It could be the end of all of her dreams.  Here, though, under no circumstances could she appear weak.  Her gown began to radiate the light of the stars as she stepped forward.  “You don’t want to do this, High Priest.  Stand down. I will vouch for their loyalty.” Negotiation through strength would be her way forward.

“With all due respect, my lady, the matter has already been judged.  The Dark Lord requires sacrifice to fuel his strength.  Their essence will power him, and we will make Middle Earth great. Morgoth is the chosen one and I will not allow you to defy him!”  He raised the Rod of Umarin, a yard-long staff of ebony with a gold skull as its head and his octagonal brooch glowed a sickly green.  “You are outmatched here, Ardana.  You need to stand down and allow me to complete the sacrifice.  Let the boy come to me.”

Then, a flash of silver flew by Ardana’s ear from behind and the tip of a kynac embedded itself into Gorthaur’s rod.  The High Priest’s eyes widened in fear and surprise, and he stepped back.  He pulled the kynac out and threw it to the ground with an angry grunt.  “Who did that?  Who is responsible?”

Fëatur seemed to appear out of nowhere, her golden hair worn short and her plain brown robes hastily thrown on.  “It was I, Gorthaur,” she said in a most haughty voice.  Now, I suggest that you do as our lady says or this may get ugly.” She drew a long kynac from a sheath, its curved blade shimmering green.  She licked the blade and grinned.  “The deadliest poison…to which I am immune.  Are you?”

Gorthaur sneered, baring his teeth.  “You dare to defy the Dark Lord?” he declared and puffed out his chest, but his two lesser priests seemed less confident now.  Fëatur had a reputation for savagery and cruelty.  The High Priest brandished the rod again.  “You are still outmatched.  It’s three to two,” he said, ignoring Moran.

Fëatur closed her free hand and then snapped it outwards towards Silion and the Noldorin woman screamed in agony.  She fell to the ground, slapping at her body.  “Get them out!  Get them out! They’re inside me!  Get them out!”  She writhed on the ground, shrieking.

Fëatur grinned broadly at the High Priest.  “You were saying?”  She walked calmly towards Gorthaur as Taurion rushed to Silion, searching for what was under her skin.  She drew a second kynac in her left hand, which also shimmered green.  “If you wish to fight, let it begin here.”  Ardana and Moran now stood beside her, Moran with his sword drawn.  “It’s still three to two, High Priest, but now you are outmatched.”

Gorthaur’s face twisted in both anger and fear.  He lowered the rod.  “This is not over, Ardana.  The Dark Lord will hear of this.  Now, release my priestess.”

Ardana nodded to Fëatur. “This is definitely over.  Release my healers and confine yourself to your hold at Aurax-Dȗr.  You will not come to the Citadel without my permission, but you are free to conduct your business within your realm.  You are to be gone by tomorrow.  Am I clear?”

Gorthaur cut the bindings on Yavëkamba and Almarien and removed their gags.  The healers fell to the ground, covering themselves with their hands as Moran ran to them.  Fëatur raised her hand and closed a fist and black, eel-like creatures erupted from Silion’s flesh, squealing and writhing and then evaporated into nothing as the woman shrieked in agony.  Fëatur strode over to Silion and pointed her poisoned kynac down at her.  “This was fun.  We should do it again some time,” she said with a smile that was full of menace.

Ardana could tell that Silion wanted to strike out.  Rage and pain were written on the priestess’ face.  But it would be suicide.  Silion wouldn’t last two seconds against Fëatur.  The Astrologer gestured to Gorthaur.  “Now, leave my sight.  You will send a report when you reach Aurax-Dȗr.”  The High Priest scurried off with his priests as Moran covered the healers with his cloak.  Ardana sighed in relief.  This was too close.  Everything that she had built could have ended here.  And what was to become of Moran?  He was utterly loyal, but he was useless in this.  Was she too overbearing?  Did that make him weak?  She wish she knew the answers.  She was never taught to be a mother.  Yavëkamba had always been the nurturing one.  All she knew was that she was the Astrologer to the Dark Lord and that he promised her that the skies would only hold the stars.  Maybe then, Varda would see the error of her ways and Ardana could return to learn at the feet of the Valië.  All would be as it was, and she and Moran could live in the eternal bliss of Aman. 

Chapter End Notes

We look more at the religious fanaticism of Gorthaur that now challenges Ardana.  We also look at the power and cruelty of the female Featur.  I want to explore how Ardana's mothering has affected Moran and what she thinks about it.

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