Malphegor
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LOTR: TMCP Ch. 373
🕑 Added 2025-12-03 03:09:26 +0000 UTC"The streets feel unusually quiet today."
Garrett stepped out of the castle, muttering to himself in mild confusion.
"There's no laughter or chatter along the road... even Weymir isn't around. They've probably all been sent to the Eastern Warfront."
The old man beside him, broad-shouldered and bent over a vegetable patch, answered without looking up.
"The Eastern Warfront? Yeah. Things have been a mess over there lately. Word is, from the South Undeep all the way to Carrock, the land's crawling with orcs. They're almost at the Sky Road by now."
"Is that so?"
"Heh, I can tell you've been away. Haven't heard the news."
The old man calmly dug up the last few potatoes, his voice slow and unhurried.
"Other than the essential garrison troops, nearly every young man capable of fighting has gone east. By now, the orcs are probably almost wiped out. If you hurry and prepare to leave, lad, you might just catch the end of it."
"I see... Could you tell me more? I'd like to know the current situation, and what comes next."
"The current situation? Well, even Weymir's flown off to join the battle. For all we know, they're already gathering to march on the Black Gate."
"The Black Gate? What for?"
"To find our lord, of course! Didn't you hear about that meeting some time ago? Oh, judging by all your questions, I guess you weren't around. Anyway, the conclusion was unanimous. The lord's disappearance must have something to do with the Lord of Mordor. If we can break into Mordor and seize that Dark Lord, we might finally learn the truth."
"That does make sense. I've thought the same, most likely Sauron's doing," Garrett nodded.
"Mm, seems you think like the rest of us. To breach Mordor's great iron Black Gate, we've sent out over twenty full regiments, forty thousand men gathering one after another in Rhovanion. Every Ranger still able to wield a sword, every champion of the legions, they've all gone. Who knows how far they've marched by now..."
Finishing the last patch of potatoes from his plot, the old man straightened up and stretched his back.
"Rumors from outside say our lord has left this world for good, never to return. But I don't believe that. Not for a second. Even if those words came from the mouths of Elves. Shame I'm too old now to go join the search myself. But if anyone thinks the old folk of Wayfort are easy to push around, they'd better think again. If I can still swing a hoe, I can still swing a sword."
Garrett glanced at the old man's sturdy frame. Clearly, he'd seen his share of battles in his younger days, a man hardened by experience.
"You're right. A lot's happened while I was gone... though it doesn't feel like I've been away that long. Perhaps it's time I take a look out there myself."
Hearing that the young man behind him planned to head east, the old man turned back with a chuckle.
"Just got back and already off again, huh? You young folks sure are full of energy. Then, I wish you..."
"Hic!"
The old man froze mid-sentence, his words catching in his throat.
"Wait... am I... am I seeing things?"
He took a hesitant step closer. Only when he felt the heat radiating from the armor did he realize it wasn't an illusion.
Tears welled up and traced the wrinkles down his cheeks.
"You've returned."
Behind him, a crowd was gathering, cheers rising around them.
A gentle, sacred light spread across the land, heralding the return of a legend. At last, the people's long-held hope was no longer hollow.
That day, Garrett came home. The gloom that had hung over the residents of Wayfort was swept away, replaced with soaring elation.
That feeling spread outward from the fortress, carried from one territory to the next.
Under his orders, messengers rode out along the Sky Road, bound for the east, to tell the assembled armies of his return.
This news would become an anchor, a promise of peace and reassurance.
However, even after the messengers delivered it, the great army did not disband or withdraw. Following Garrett's orders, they continued to wait, patiently, steadfastly, for him to finish his business elsewhere.
That stillness made Mordor uneasy. But Mordor did not remain idle either. Seizing the opportunity, they reinforced the defenses of the Black Gate, drawing vast forces from the Far East and from Harad.
The tides of attack and defense had reversed.
---
Meanwhile, after announcing his return and settling various recent disturbances, Garrett's first destination was the City of Waters. There, he intended to meet the Rangers stationed at the Eregion outpost and confirm the latest news about the Fellowship of the Ring.
"The Grey Wizard and eight others went toward the West Gate of Khazad-dûm. They haven't returned," reported one of the outpost Rangers.
Garrett thought for a moment.
From what he had seen himself, the Fellowship should have already passed safely through Khazad-dûm by now. But where had they gone afterward? And Gandalf, where was he now, and in what condition?
In that indescribable hall that seemed to lie beyond the edge of the world, Gandalf's spirit had been summoned away. It seemed he had returned to Arda before Garrett did.
Then where would he be now? Lothlórien? Fangorn Forest? Or somewhere else entirely?
Only by going there could Garrett find out.
"Alright, I understand. Has there been any other movement lately?"
After asking about the Fellowship, he threw in another question, and, unexpectedly, it turned out to be an important one.
"News from afar. At the Isen River crossing on Rohan's border, there's been unusual activity. The Dunlendings and orcs are gathering nearby with clear intent to attack."
"Oh?" Garrett's interest was piqued.
The Ranger continued his report. "A scouting party from Enedwaith spotted a dark shadow flying through the night sky, likely a Nazgûl. It's been patrolling the area between Dunland and Isengard."
"Based on our assessment, a large battle may soon erupt at the Isen River crossing."
Having delivered all available intelligence, the Ranger fell silent, waiting for Garrett's judgment, his decision on how to act.
The Isen River crossing... Isengard...
Gandalf had long warned that this place might no longer be on their side. Even with all precautions taken, Saruman still managed to stir up trouble, not entirely surprising, given the old wizard's boundless ambition.
Garrett had later gone there himself, confirming Gandalf's words, and had, incidentally, picked up a ring along the way.
But before he could act further, chaos had broken out in the Northern Waste. Now, at last, he could turn his attention back to this.
"Summon the legions. We march to reinforce the Isen River crossing."
If that crossing were to fall, the remaining forces would have no choice but to retreat into Helm's Deep, to make their stand at the Hornburg. And then, most likely, the Battle of Helm's Deep would begin.
In Garrett's memory, there hadn't been much time between these events, only a few short days.
Helm's Deep was crucial. If it too were lost, Rohan itself would face ruin. That could not be allowed to happen.
Fortunately, the garrison of the City of Waters had remained untouched, following Garrett's earlier orders not to join the eastern campaign, but instead to guard the western lands and the southwestern coast.
With his decision made, Garrett returned from the outpost to the City of Waters. There, the great city stirred to life.
One after another, fully equipped legions assembled on the wide plazas, waiting solemnly for their lord's next command.
"Move out."
