NationStates Jolt Archive

The Mountain shook, the cave ceilings coughed dust. The Orcs shuddered.
Morvok and Ezog, two guardsmen on the Great Mountain Gate; the entrance into the subterreanean realm of Lord Feagor, stood talking while they watched the influx of materials gathered from the mountainside and the mines in the upper passes.

"I'm hungry, I hope the Elf-Lord gives us more Manflesh soon. This maggoty bread is dirt!"

Said Morvok, tallest of the two and imposing even to the tallest of Men and Elves. Morvok held his gun ready, he felt most angry; his division was being deprived of meats as punishment for some small and insignificant crime.
The ceiling shook and dust crumbled onto the helmet of Ezog, a small but keen-sighted Orc.

"The Elf-Lord is at it again, shaking the mountain with his Elf-mischief, troubles brewing."

The cave shook again.

"Damn that Big-Ears!"

Morvok growled with an anger that would seer the eyebrows off an adult man.

"Shhhh, one of the overseers might hear! Then we are for it!"

Deep within the very bowels of the Earth, in the lowest dungeon below the mountain; at least 1 mile deep from sea level downwards, vast labyrinthine palace lay carved of dark and igneous stone from an underground batholith. Within this great palace lay a small room, a room where no Orc servant goes, no one enters and lives except the Lord Feagor.

Lord Feagor was standing, his hand clenched over the spherical jewel that was the palantir, an ancient craft of Feanor, son of Finwe.

His mind was directed to his own mountain, his Orc slaves, his industrial base, his military strength.
Orcs were brewing more Orcs in large pits in the Earth, Orcs were slaughtering Human Clones to maintain food supplies, Orcs were busy at their alotted tasks.
And to think he had only started with one Orc that he had found in the mountains in the days of his exile...

Maybe Lady Sirithil is interested in that palatíri. ^_^

Lord Feagor now concentrated his thought, elsewhere.
Away from the endless pits and labyrinths under the mountain that lay atop an island hidden from the remainder of the world.
Instead, his thought focused across the sea to distant shores.

"Lady Sirithil, Lady Sirithil."

Whispered the Ethereal Voice of Feagor.

"Do you not recognize your old friend, Lord Feagor? I was once one of your kind. I am no longer one of your kind.
I am Feagor, Lord of the Earth, the New Master of the Fates of the World.
I just thought you should know.
Thankyou for taking the time listen to my words.
Farewell.

Lord Feagor removed his hand from the Palantir and sat down on the chair, exhausted. Those things can really take the strength out of even the most mighty...

Bump.

Bump.
(other Elves might have heard the voice unintentionally)