Malphegor
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LOTR: TMCP Ch. 211
🕑 Added 2025-08-19 01:15:52 +0000 UTC"Let's go with this."
Garrett drew a circle on the map.
Since the matter they were about to discuss wasn't very suitable to bring up in a tavern, the three of them moved to a study after finishing their meal.
On the table, Ecthelion leaned forward, frowning as he looked at the spot Garrett had circled.
It was an open field north of Osgiliath, east of the Anduin River, lying between Mordor and Gondor.
Kane also glanced over.
"Huh?"
"Isn't that near Henneth Annûn?"
"That's where one of our ranger outposts is."
Seeing Garrett's puzzled look, he pointed at a spot beside the river on the map and explained, "There's a waterfall here, flowing from the cliffs into the Forbidden Pool. Our outpost is right there, in the cave behind that waterfall."
"Since it faces west, the setting sun always shines through the cascade and refracts into the cave. We call it the Window of the Sunset, or sometimes the Window on the West. Originally, there wasn't a waterfall covering the cave at all. Our engineers altered the river's course to make it this way."
"Who would ever think there'd be an outpost behind a waterfall?"
"Yeah, it's really hard to imagine."
Thanks to Kane's explanation, Garrett remembered the place.
Wasn't this the exact spot where Frodo, Sam, and Gollum would be captured by the rangers when passing through Ithilien?
Of course, that hadn't happened yet. Without outside interference, it would only take place decades later.
"Don't worry. My pickaxe is precise, I won't break into your outpost."
Garrett tapped the circle he'd drawn and said, "Besides, it's not that close. Look at this spot I chose, Osgiliath is to the left, and to the right is the crossroads leading into Mordor. Beyond the crossroads lies Minas Morgul. I won't be interfering with anyone."
To be fair, it was indeed a strategically sound location. If something came up, he could head left to Gondor's White City; if he grew restless, he could head right to Minas Morgul and pay the Witch-king a visit.
"Hmm... if a new hidden outpost could be established here, it would actually be quite good."
Kane nodded, clearly approving.
But he had obviously overlooked something.
Ecthelion turned his head and looked at the two men deep in discussion.
"Don't you think your priorities are a little... misplaced?"
"What, I can't use this spot?" Garrett looked back at him.
"You can, but... are you certain you want to choose this place?"
"I must remind you, swarms of orcs and Uruks pass through here daily. Wargs are everywhere, more common than rabbits. The garrison of Osgiliath and the rangers are in constant conflict with them, with bloodshed almost every night."
"And you say you want to build a 'home' here? Are you thinking clearly?"
"Our craftsmen would find it extremely difficult to reach the site. With so many enemies around, if you insist on building something here, you'd need not just craftsmen but also an army of several thousand to guard and maintain it constantly."
"No need. I'll handle it myself."
Garrett waved his hand and said, "Just tell me if you're granting me the place or not."
Ecthelion paused for a moment, then answered: "Strictly speaking, ever since Minas Morgul and Ithilien fell, that area has long since slipped out of Gondor's control. Right now, it's just contested wilderness. If you want to do something there, go ahead."
"Really?"
"Really."
"You don't need to report to your father first?"
"I'll tell him. He has no reason to refuse."
"Go tell him now. I'm in a bit of a hurry."
"...Very well."
Ecthelion wasn't gone long, about the time it takes to drink two cups of tea and exchange a few words. Soon he pushed the study door open again and walked back in.
"He agreed. He said you can do whatever you wish in that area, so long as you can actually make it work."
"Anyway, it's not like we have any control over it anymore," this was another line Turgon had said, though Ecthelion chose not to repeat it aloud.
"That's good."
With the last important matter settled, Garrett bid the two farewell. He didn't linger in the White City, but immediately headed east.
He crossed the plains outside the city, passed through the ruins of Gondor's abandoned fortress of Osgiliath, exchanged a few words with the garrison there, then crossed the bridge and made for the crossroads, toward the tangled, wild greenlands beyond.
The land was rugged and uneven, if anyone wanted to build something here, it would first take large-scale terraforming.
But then again...
Who said buildings had to be on the ground?
"Ah-ha, fresh man-flesh!"
As he was pondering this, a pack of Uruks in black armor sprang out from the roadside. Without giving him time to react, they raised their cleavers and rushed straight at him.
"Stupid man! Even Gondor's stinking rangers know to avoid us. Yet you walk openly under the moonlight, hmm?"
Garrett turned his head and calmly drew his sword.
Such a simple movement, yet it made the Uruks' hearts seize in terror.
But the first Uruk had already charged too far to stop himself. He could only watch as his own cursed cleaver, already swinging down, carried him forward.
Shing.
A flash of steel swept past. Clean, sharp. The Uruk's head dropped to the ground, and a moment later his body toppled with a heavy thud.
"Ahhh!!"
The Uruks behind cried out, not their usual battle roar, but a meaningless scream of terror. After that single shout, they fell silent, turned on their heels, and fled into the distance.
Roar!
From behind came another sound: the belated arrival of the warg pack fighting alongside the Uruks. With their pitch-black fur, they melted into the night, only the crimson gleam of their eyes betraying their presence.
When they reached the scene, the first thing the wargs did wasn't search for enemies. Instead, they fixed their gaze on the Uruks, sniffing as if to check whether their allies had taken all the kill, whether they'd left any meat for them.
Just as the wargs were about to growl a reminder to share the spoils, the Uruks suddenly bolted past them, retreating in panic.
Abruptly, the last Uruk stopped beside the warg leader, pointed toward the pitch-black fields behind them, so dark that you couldn't see your own hand, and said, "We're full. There's meat over there. Go take it."
Then he hurried after the others without looking back, as if something unseen were driving him on.
The warg leader didn't doubt him. Their masters often commanded them in much the same way, sending them charging in some direction with unnatural fervor, heedless of exhaustion, until they dropped.
Looked like today was their lucky day.
